Will Grayson, Will Grayson(56)
Author: John Green

finally, at the end of the day, i can’t deal with it on my own anymore, and gideon’s the one i want to turn to. part of me is hoping that he’ll tell me i have nothing to be ashamed of, that i’ve done nothing wrong. i find him at his locker and say

me: can you believe it? my mom said i should crash tiny’s show and talk to maura.

gideon: you should.

me: did your sister use your mouth as a crack pipe last night? are you insane?

gideon: i don’t have a sister.

me: whatever. you know what i’m saying.

gideon: i’ll go with you.

me: what?

gideon: i’ll borrow my mom’s car. do you know where tiny’s school is?

me: you’re joking.

and that’s when it happens. it’s almost astonishing, really. gideon becomes a little – just a little – more like me.

gideon: can we just say ‘fuck you’ to the ‘you’re joking’ part? all right? i’m not saying you and tiny should be together forever and have huge, depressed babies that have periods of manic thinness, but i do think the way the two of you left it is pretty unhelpful, and i’d bet twenty dollars if i had twenty dollars that he is suffering from the same waves of crappiness that you’re suffering from. or he’s found a new boyfriend. maybe also named will grayson. whatever the case, you are going to be this walking, talking splinter unless someone takes your ass to wherever he is, and in this particular case, and in any other particular case where you need me, i am that someone. i am the knight with a shining jetta. i am your f**king steed.

me: gideon, i had no idea . . .

gideon: shut the f**k up.

me: say it again!

gideon (laughing): shut the f**k up!

me: but why?

gideon: why should you shut the f**k up?

me: no – why are you my f**king steed?

gideon: because you’re my friend, wingnut. because underneath all that denial, you’re someone who’s deeply, deeply nice. and because ever since you first mentioned it to me, i’ve been dying to see this musical.

me: okay, okay, okay.

gideon: and the second part?

me: what second part?

gideon: talking to maura.

me: you’re kidding.

gideon: not one bit. you have fifteen minutes while i get the car.

me: i don’t want to.

gideon gives me a hard look.

gideon: what are you, three years old?

me: but why should i?

gideon: i bet you can answer that one yourself.

I tell him he’s totally out of line. he waves me off and says i need to do it, and that he’ll honk when he gets here to pick me up.

the sick thing is, i know he’s right. this whole time, i’ve thought the silent treatment was working. because it’s not like i miss her. then i realize that missing her or not missing her isn’t the point. the point is that i’m still carrying around what happened as much as she is. and i need to get rid of it. because both of us poured the toxins into our toxic friendship. and while i didn’t exactly invent an imaginary boyfriend trap, i certainly contributed enough errors to our trials. there’s no way we’re ever going to find an ideal state of it. but i guess i’m seeing that we have to at least make it to an it we can bear.

I walk outside and she’s right there in the same place at the end of the day that she is at the start of the day. perching on a wall, notebook out. staring at the other kids as they walk by, no doubt looking down at each and every one of them, including me.

I feel like i should’ve prepared a speech. but that would require me to know what i’m going to say. i have no idea, really. the best i can come up with is

me: hey

to which she says

maura: hey

she gives me that blank stare. i look at my shoes.

maura: to what do i owe this pleasure?

this is the way we talked to each other. always. and i don’t have the energy for it anymore. that’s not how i want to talk with friends. not always.

me: maura, stop.

maura: stop? you’re kidding, right? you don’t talk to me for a month, and when you do, it’s to tell me to stop?

me: that’s not why i came over here. . . .

maura: then why did you come over here?

me: i don’t know, okay?

maura: what does that mean? of course you know.

me: look. i just want you to know that while i still think what you did was completely shitty, i realize that i was shitty to you, too. not in the elaborately shitty way that you were to me, but still pretty shitty. i should have just been honest with you and told you i didn’t want to talk to you or be your boyfriend or be your best friend or anything like that. i tried – i swear i tried. but you didn’t want to hear what i was saying, and i used that as an excuse to let it go on.

maura: you didn’t mind me when i was isaac. when we would chat every night.

me: but that was a lie! a complete lie!

now maura looked me right in the eye.

maura: c’mon, will – you know there’s no such thing as a complete lie. there’s always some truth in there.

I don’t know how to react to that. i just say the next thing that comes to my mind.

me: it wasn’t you i liked. it was isaac. i liked isaac.

the blankness has disappeared now. there’s sadness instead.

maura: . . . and isaac liked you.

I want to say to her: i just want to be myself. and i want to be with someone who’s just himself. that’s all. i want to see through all the performance and all the pretending and get right to the truth. and maybe this is the most truth that maura and i will ever find – an acknowledgment of the lie, and of the feelings that fell behind it.

me: i’m sorry, maura.

maura: i’m sorry, too.

this is why we call people exes, i guess – because the paths that cross in the middle end up separating at the end. it’s too easy to see an X as a cross-out. it’s not, because there’s no way to cross out something like that. the X is a diagram of two paths.

I hear a honk and turn to see gideon pulling up in his mom’s car.

me: i gotta go.

maura: so go.

I leave her and get in the car with gideon and tell him everything that just happened. he says he’s proud of me, and i don’t know what to do with that. i ask him

me: why?

and he says

gideon: for saying you were sorry. i wasn’t sure if you’d be able to do that.

I tell him i wasn’t sure, either. but it’s how i felt. and i wanted to be honest.

suddenly – it’s like the next thing i know – we’re on the road. i’m not even sure if we’re going to make it to tiny’s show on time. i’m not even sure i should be there. i’m not even sure that i want to see tiny. i just want to see how the play turned out.