Hero-Type Part 29

I know exactly what he means.

Chapter 38.

Revelation (Again-Lucky me!).

So here I am, sitting in my car at the end of Leah Muldoon's driveway. My stomach's a mess of acid and grinding. It's like I've swallowed rocks and my gut is doing its best to digest them, but they won't break down, so they just keep colliding against each other and churning and rolling.

The picture of Leah is like a hot coal in my pocket.

I close my eyes and try to make it better. I try to imagine a happy ending.

I give her the picture and she says, I don't understand. You ... Of all people, you could have had this. All you had to do was ask me.

And then...

And then she rushes into my arms ...

Throws herself at me ...

Peppers my face with kisses ...

But probably not.

That's what I'd like to have happen. What I fantasize, what I dream. But let's face it, the world just doesn't work that way. And it has nothing to do with anything. It just is.

So I'm going to walk up the driveway. I'm going to ring the doorbell. I know Leah's home because her car's in the driveway. But if she doesn't answer the door I'm going to ask her mom or her dad or whoever does answer to get her for me. And then I'm going to hand her the picture and I'm going to say nothing. I could spout out stuff about how I've been watching her for years and how I've adored her from afar, but what would be the point? Nothing would change. Nothing would improve. Not for either of us. I've confessed to G.o.d and that's cool. I'll give back the picture, which is a confession all its own. But she doesn't need to know the details. They would just disturb her. Hurt her. And I don't want to do that.

Father McKane just said I had to make amends with Leah. He didn't say I had to be an idiot about it.

So.

I walk up the driveway. Before I can even ring the bell, though, the door opens and there's Leah, her head tilted, looking at me like a dog that isn't sure if you've got a treat or not.

"Hi, Kevin." Since she's clueless, she's happy to see me.

I can't speak. My lips won't move.

"Kevin?"

There's a million things to say, but I can't think of a single one right now. I pull the picture out of my pocket.

I hand it over to her. Her eyes go wide and she says nothing at all. She certainly doesn't throw herself into my arms and cover my ugly mug with a ma.s.s of kisses. Which is fine and is exactly what I expected, so...

I worried about what to say at this moment, but you know what? There's nothing to say. So I just walk back down the driveway to my car.

Leah comes running behind me, much to my surprise.

"Kevin, wait!"

I turn to take my medicine, but she's just holding out the picture to me. "Here. I want you to have it."

Say what? I've been stressing over this thing for days and now she's just gonna give it back to me?

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me to have it?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Because you want it, I guess."

"Leah, I..." I struggle with the words. "I stole it."

"Yeah, I know. But ... I don't know. I guess it's not a big deal. I was wondering where it went. I figured it blew off the mirror and got lost somewhere. Look," she says, "if you'd asked me for it, I would have been fine with it. It's OK for you to have it. Just don't, y'know, put it up on the 'net or anything."

Like I would. I reach out to take the picture, because suddenly I do want it. I don't have my tapes anymore and I have no shot with Leah, but at least I can have the picture, right? And guilt-free this time because she's offering it to me...

And how pathetic is that? We haven't said the obvious yet. We haven't said that I'm clearly, sadly in love with her and that she's not in love with me.

There, I said it: in love. Sounds really stupid, too.

"Hey," she says suddenly. "I like your b.u.mper stickers."

I've covered up the mayor's stickers with the two I special-ordered: One is red, white, and blue and says, Support Free Speech. The other is yellow and says, Think for Yourself.

"Thanks." I mumble it. I wonder what her boyfriend would think of them and I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying it.

She drops her hand to her side. "Kevin, is something wrong?"

Yeah, everything's pretty much wrong. But I'm not going to tell her that.

"Are you angry at me?" She says it with such concern and such worry that there are two things that bubble up inside me. One is How could I ever be angry at you? but the other one is- "Why are you dating him?" And oh s.h.i.+t I said it out loud! What the h.e.l.l?

She blinks. "I don't get it."

"You keep telling me you're on my side on this whole free speech thing, but then you go off with John and-"

"The two don't have anything to do with each other."

"How can you say that? He's like a ... a...Neanderthal." Oh, smooth, Kross-impress the girl you're crus.h.i.+ng on by insulting her boyfriend.

"G.o.d, Kevin! I'm not marrying him. It's just high school."

"Yeah, well ... I'm not gonna stop. The free speech stuff, I mean. Crazy J sort of made people forget, but I'm not going to let them keep forgetting. I'm going to make more noise."

"That's fine. I think it's great. I really do."

"But you won't stand up to John. You won't tell him he's full of it."

"I respect you. I'm dating John. I like him. We have fun together. I'm not looking for a political ally."

Well, what do I say to that?

"I didn't know how you felt," she goes on. "You never told me, and now you come here and get all p.i.s.sed at me because I never acted on something I didn't know about? Is that it? Did you think I would somehow magically know how you felt about me?"

The worst part? Yeah. Yeah, I did. G.o.d, that's pathetic.

"Did you think you could just come here and tell me how ... h.e.l.l, you never even told me anything-you just came here with the picture."

OK, now that's the worst part.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"What do you want, Kevin?"

"To be friends?" I blurt out before I'm even aware I'm going to say it.

She laughs. "Of course we're friends. You saved my life. And I think you should go on talking about what you believe in because it means a lot to you. And I believe it, too, but I guess I don't care as much as you do. I wish I did, but I don't. And that really, really makes me honored that you still want to be my friend." She smiles at me, smiles like the picture, and it's a smile for me and to me and that's just amazing.

"Now take your d.a.m.n picture." She holds it up again.

I reach out for it. And I can't help myself-I'm smiling at her, matching her grin with my own, smiling even though I hate my smile, my lips peeled back, and I don't care what I look like in this moment and she doesn't care; we're just two friends.

I take the picture from her.

And something occurs to me.

"Hey, Leah?"

"What?"

"Who did you vote for?"

She freezes up. "I don't ... What do you mean?"

"After the debate. Who did you vote for?"

"What does that matter?"

"It was a secret ballot. No one would know who you voted for. So tell me."

But she doesn't need to. I know. Because if it was me, she would have told me right away. She voted for Riordon. Not even because she believes him, but just ... because. Because whatever. Because it doesn't matter to her.

And it does matter to me. A lot.

It's like a switch is flipped inside my head and my stomach. And all that obsession just ... goes away.

Fam was right.

I'm suddenly seeing Leah for the first time. As a person. Not an ideal. Not some un.o.btainable thing. And you know what? Leah's not perfect. She's not a G.o.ddess. I mean, duh, right? But she's just sort of ... OK.

She's even-G.o.d, I can't believe it!-sort of shallow.

Why would I want that for a girlfriend or an obsession or whatever?

It all hits me in that moment. I used to think-like, two minutes ago!-I was in love with Leah, but obsession isn't love. I know the truth now. I was just using her. Using some idea of her as a distraction from Mom and Jesse.

Yeah, I know her favorite color and where she lives and what she does for Christmas, but I didn't know her. Until now.

So, this picture ... I don't need it or want it anymore.

"You know what, Leah? It's OK. You keep it."

I hand it back to her.

"But ... But..." She looks down at it. "Just because of the debate. Is that all? Just because..."

And I smile.

I smile my real, honest smile.

"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. Thanks for everything," I say. "Really. I had a good time at your party. I'm sorry again about the picture. That was stupid. Bye."

And then I get into my car, and I don't look back.

Tell the truth, it's the most heroic thing I've ever done.

Safety Valve.

Epilogue.

"Call me from each layover," Dad says, handing me the prepaid cell phone. "And call your mother, too."

"I know, Dad."