From What I Remember

“I love you so much, Max. I don’t want to ever lose you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say. As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I know I don’t mean it. Maybe I did at one time. But not anymore. The problem is, I don’t know what else I can say. I’m losing my grip on things. It’s harder and harder for me to see what’s real. Maybe when the hangover lets up. Maybe when I’ve had some time to think and put it all in perspective. Or maybe it is what it is—one awesome night in Mexico with a girl I barely know. Maybe life is full of moments like this—fleeting, genius moments that don’t bleed into real life. And don’t mean much when they’re over.

can’t believe they didn’t take any of my music. That’s just insulting.” Will and Juan and I are standing in front of Will’s Mini Cooper, staring at the driver’s-side window, which has been smashed to smithereens. “That’s what you’re worried about?” Usually Will’s humor is charming, but right now I want to rip his scalp off. Not only have the windows of his car been decimated by thieves, but all four tires are gone. Gone. His car looks like a toy that’s been mangled by a toddler. We’re not going anywhere. “You have to admit, it’s offensive. How could they not have wanted any of my CDs? I have great taste in music.” Will looks at me, dead serious.

I want to throttle him. I am so not in the mood.

“Who gives a shit about your music, Will? We have such bigger issues. How the hell are we going to get to graduation now?” I’m going to lose it on Will. He’s hardly earned it, but he’s the only likely candidate for my rage.

Juan has the good sense not to get involved. He looks out at the ocean, waiting, I assume, for us to resolve this nightmare somehow or seek his counsel.

“Kylie, this is not my fault, darling. How could I have known my car would get vandalized? Damn. The border cop actually told me to get insurance, and I thought he was just trying to scam me. Who knew? I should have listened to him. My dad is going to kill me. He just bought the Mini a few months ago.”

I can feel myself losing it. “Listen, Will, I feel bad about the car, but you can deal with it later. I’m sure your dad can figure this out. Right now, we’ve got to focus on finding a way back to school. Shit. Shit. Shit. What are we going to do? This is so typical. You know what, Will? You attract trouble.”

I know it’s not Will’s fault, but somehow, somehow…I feel like it is.

“What? Let me remind you that you’re the one who got kidnapped and taken to Mexico, not me. I’m the one who hauled ass and came down here to rescue you. So I think you better just lose the ’tude.”

Will’s righteous anger tugs me back to reality. Why am I treating my best friend like shit? Because I let some guy treat me like shit, that’s why. It’s not fair. I’m better than this. Will deserves better than this.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I just don’t know what to do.”

“It’s all right, chica, I know you’re stressing. We’re going to get back; we’ll figure this out.” Will puts his arm around my shoulder. “‘Make anyone cry today?’”

“‘Sadly, no. But it’s only four thirty,’” I say. 10 Things I Hate About You always brings a smile to my face. I love that movie. And Heath Ledger in it. And Will for bringing it up.

I have to stop acting like such a tool. And feeling sorry for myself. Yes I got my heart broken, but at least I put it out there. Maybe next time I’ll pick a better contender, like Will did. Right now, I’ve got to throw everything I’ve got into Plan B.

I turn to Juan. “I don’t suppose you have a car, Juan?”

Juan smiles weakly. “No. I’ve got a bike.”

I’m sure Max, Lily, and Charlie have already hightailed it out of town. Max seemed eager to be far, far away from me.

“We’ve got to see when the next bus leaves. It’s our best option,” I say. “Let’s go back to Manuel’s. He can help us figure out the schedule.”

We turn and trudge back toward Manuel’s. It’s hard to buck up. The self-pity is creeping back in like roaches at a seedy motel.

At this point, I know it doesn’t even matter, but I must look like such a train wreck. My hair is frizzing out and the ends are coated with dried vomit. I’m still wearing this goddamn wedding dress, but the lace hangs off the hem, shredded. My white espadrilles are gray at this point, and my skin has a greenish hue. It’s certainly an original look for the Freiburg valedictorian.

I dig into my backpack, pull out a tube of lip balm, and swipe it across my lips. I may look like hell, but at least my lips will be moist. It’s not much, but it’s something. As I’m putting the lip balm back, I catch sight of my key chain from Jake, attached to the zipper. It’s a plastic palm tree with the words san diego written up the trunk. I have no idea why he thought I’d like it so much, but I do. I treasure it. The thought of Jake pulls at my stomach. I’ve been so busy making a mess of my life, I haven’t thought about him in a while. I wonder how he’s doing without me. What did Mom tell him? Jesus. I can’t go there, not now.

I feel the ring on my hand and glance down at it briefly. I’m not even sure what it means. I search the recesses of my brain and find, deeply hidden, a vague recollection from the pier last night. There was a priest, couples, a wedding ceremony. Is it even possible? We couldn’t have gotten married. Could we? And even if we did something that stupid and reckless, doesn’t it take a lot more than some priest on a pier for an American to get legally married in Mexico? It was probably just a joke. An idiotic, foolhardy, drunken joke. Whatever it was, I’m sure it’s fixable. The rest of the mess is less easily mended.

I stare down at the ring. I should hurl it across the street. It’s a potent symbol of my folly. And yet I don’t want to take it off. Stupid, stupid girl. Are you waiting on a miracle? Get over him. It’s not happening.

I head back into Manuel’s house, Will and Juan right behind me. They’re holding hands like they’ve been together for years, an old married couple. It’s surreal.

“What time is it, Will?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“Uh…seven thirty-five.”

A little more than four hours to get to graduation. Our chances are shrinking by the minute.

“Hello?” I walk through the front door of the house to find Manuel and Manu watching TV on the couch.

“You’re back?”

The sight of Manuel with his arm around his son, somehow pierces at my heart, and I erupt in tears. Oh my God. I’m turning into a character from a Mexican telenovela. I ca

“Whoa there, mamacita, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be fine. Just tired. I feel like I didn’t properly apologize for the craziness this morning, Manuel. I’m so sorry.”

“Is that why you came back, to apologize. Again? Because you already did. Several times.” Manuel is chuckling. He must think I am a complete lunatic. Which I am. “You really don’t have time to waste. The border could be crowded. You need to get going.”

“Will’s car was vandalized. We need to get a bus.”

“I bet you can catch your…friends. Can I call them that?”

“Not really,” I say.

“Well, whatever they are, I bet they’re still in town. They went to buy food. Max told me on his way out.”