13 | It's Not Weird to Say I Love You
I didn’t like the idea of talking to Merrick while he was wet and naked. Or maybe I did like the idea. And I didn’t want to.
It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.
New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.
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Chapter Thirteen
My parents were a little too excited about my inviting Merrick over for Sunday breakfast. My mom panic-cleaned the house and my dad repainted the basketball court lines in our driveway.
“I don’t think he even plays basketball,” I said to him.
“It’s not about basketball,” he said. “It’s about male bonding. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Yeah,” Freddie said. “You wouldn’t understand, ‘cause you’re not a man.”
“Neither are you, dork brain.”
“Be nice to dork brain, please,” Dad said. “He’s a man in training.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t engage in some pre-visit preparations of my own. I cleaned my room, I did all of my homework, and I put clean sheets on my bed. That one was weird. I don’t know why I did that.
When the phone rang on Saturday afternoon, I was certain it was Merrick calling to find out when he should show up and all that. But it was Danielle. And she had a lot to say.
“Oh my god, I’m so tired,” she sighed. “We went to a party at this junior’s house last night and I was up crazy late. I had half a beer when I was there. It wasn’t awful, but I might try a screwdriver next time. That’s what most of the girls were drinking. Drake was doing shots. I think that’s gross. It’s like pure alcohol and nothing else. If I’m going to drink, I’d rather not be able to taste it, right? Anyway, you should come with me next time. I’ve really missed hanging out with you.”
She went silent and I put the phone back to my ear.
“Are you still there?” she asked.
“Yeah. I thought you weren’t done,” I said, rolling my eyes and praying for a call waiting click to give me an excuse to leave the conversation.
“Oh, well, that’s not even the reason I called. I wanted to tell you that I talked to Drake, like you asked.”
I sat bolt upright, ready to listen.
“You did? What did you say?”
“I told him he should probably leave Merrick alone.”
Probably?
“That he had a really crappy life, and it was probably making it worse to have Drake teasing him all the time.”
Teasing him? More like torturing him. Danielle was so off the mark, it was ridiculous.
“Drake shouldn’t stop harassing Merrick because he has a crappy life,” I said. “He should stop because it’s a totally shitty thing to do.”
She paused. “Well, yeah. That’s what I said.”
I sighed loudly.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“No. I just don’t know that it’s going to make a difference.”
“Well, Drake promised he would stop once I told him I wouldn’t make out with him anymore if he didn’t.”
She laughed a little. I almost threw up.
“Great. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The phone went silent.
“Do you have plans tonight?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“Do you want to come sleepover?”
I don’t know why I got excited by the offer. Maybe because it felt familiar and it used to be something that made me happy. But I knew it wouldn’t make me happy to spend the night at Danielle’s. Not when I’d have to hear about her binge drinking with upperclassmen and French-kissing the devil.
“I can’t,” I said, honestly. “I have plans in the morning and I want to get a good night sleep.”
“What plans?”
“Hey, Danielle, I have to go,” I lied. “My mom needs my help with something.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll see you at school on Monday then.”
“Yeah,” I said. “See you then.”
She hung up first and I was glad. Of course, I missed Danielle. We’d been friends since we were babies. But she was doing weird stuff with weird people that I just wasn’t comfortable with. And I couldn’t get over how blind she was to her own boyfriend’s cruelty. That she could have seen that awful drawing of Merrick one minute and then turn around and make out with the asshole who drew it the next.
I picked the phone up again and dialed Merrick’s number. One of his cousins answered and told me he was in the shower. It made my face hot. She offered to bring him the phone but I said ‘no’, because I didn’t like the idea of talking to Merrick while he was wet and naked. Or maybe I did like the idea and I didn’t want to. I asked her to have him call me back after he got dressed. She giggled and hung up the phone.
I tried (and then regretted trying) to imagine what phase of showering Merrick was in to determine precisely when he would be clothed and able to call me. When he finally did, I couldn’t shake off the neck tingles brought on by the idea of him fully dressed, cheeks rosy, hair damp, smelling like a peppermint milkshake while he was talking to me.
I kept the conversation brief.
At dinner I called a family meeting to discuss what my expectations for them were during Merrick’s visit.
No asking him about his parents
No asking him why he doesn’t take his long sleeve shirt off
No forcing him to play basketball if he doesn’t want to
No making us feel weird by suggesting we get married or otherwise engage in behavior that lives outside of the realm of friendship
Everyone nodded their acceptance and I went upstairs to get ready for bed. I washed my face, and for the third day in a row, I didn’t cry when I looked at myself in the mirror. I’d also secretly stopped using my overpriced medical grade skincare products and started washing my face with Merrick’s magic soap. It didn’t make my acne any better, but it didn’t make it any worse either. And it made me feel good when I used it.
I crawled into my clean sheets and lay awake for a long time.
When someone is on your mind, it’s hard not to imagine where they are and what they’re doing while you’re so busy thinking about them. And you wonder if they’re thinking back about you.
I was thinking of Merrick in his room, lying in his bed, looking through photos of his mom before turning out the light and laying back on his pillows and closing his eyes. And his mind wandering. Maybe he’s nervous about coming over tomorrow. Or excited. Or both. Maybe he’s anxious about school on Monday. I was. Or maybe he’s just sleepy, and his thoughts are going fuzzy, and his muscles are letting go and his breathing is slowing down. Deepening.
And he’s dreaming. And he’s safe.
And I felt safe. Knowing that.
I WROTE ANOTHER YA BOOK AND IT’S DEBUTING THIS FALL!
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"...and I put clean sheets on my bed. That one was weird. I don’t know why I did that." I believe it is what we call "hedging our bets", Annie. Like shaving our legs, wanting to be ready, just in case. It is admirable that Annie is backing away from Danielle. Girls most often hold on to old "friends" even when they are toxic.
Good on Annie giving her skin a break. One thing that definitely helped me after years of prescription acne stuff was to stop using acne wash and stop wearing any kind of all over face makeup.