If Only I Had Told Her(61)

Which I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about today. All week, people have been handing me flyers for various official and unofficial welcome parties that took place last night. Brett woke me up when he stumbled home close to dawn. It seems likely he went rather than fell asleep watching TV in the common room.

Would Finn and I have gone out together last night?

Only if Autumn was coming too, and I have no idea what she would have wanted to do.

I’m halfway down a long straight path that might be a third of a mile. It ends in a plaza in front of the newest building and loops around from the other side for foot traffic. If the other side is as smooth as this side, this will definitely be my route.

Would Finn run with me, or would he be sleeping in Autumn’s room?

I don’t know the answer to that either. I can’t really know what it would be like if Finn were here, no matter how certain I am that he and Autumn would be annoyingly attached at the hip.

My stride is long and even, and with each footfall, I recognize I need to try to stop thinking about what it would be like if Finn were here. I’m torturing myself, obsessing like this.

Part of me doesn’t want to get better though.

What will I have left of Finn when the hurt is gone?

Second lap.

I’m not breathing deeply enough. I need to correct that before I get a stitch in my side.

I need to stop thinking about what it would be like if Finn were here with me.

It feels like I can almost touch that reality where he is alive and we’re rooming together.

Breathe, Murphy!

It feels like, if I think hard enough, I’ll cross over to that world.

Too late.

There’s that pain in my side, just above the hip, the dreaded stitch.

I grit my teeth and keep running.

That’s what you get for not breathing, Murphy.

I still know Finn so well. Someday I won’t know him like this. I’m losing a bit of him each and every moment.

Time is changing me.

Nothing is changing Finn.

Keep breathing through the pain.

Will I someday dismiss the depth of our friendship as kid stuff? Will I someday remember Finn and realize it’s been years since I thought of him?

Breathe.

No.

I could never go years without thinking about Finn. No matter how long I live, he’s always going to be one of the best guys I’ve ever known.

Keep breathing. You got this.

It hurts to think that I’d go a day without thinking about him, but I surely won’t hurt like this forever, which means I’ll have to stop thinking about Finn.

Breathe.

Or I could find a way of thinking about Finn that doesn’t hurt.

I don’t know how to do that. Everything about Finn being gone is so wrong.

Keep breathing.

Then I remember the morning of the funeral, telling myself that I had to do it because I was doing it for Finn. Of Angelina, saying she’d like to think of his clothes and belongings being useful out in the world, of Finn wanting that.

It had almost felt good, thinking about Finn like that.

Breathe.

Finn would want me to have a good time in college, whatever that means.

What else would Finn want?

The stitch in my side is easing. I’m on my third lap. I’ve got a good rhythm going, and I need to maintain it. I try to stop my thoughts and focus on my body.

Keep breathing.

I don’t know what it means, to have a good time in college. Some mythical combination of youthful hijinks and studiousness I suppose. Maybe it’s different for everyone.

Except I won’t figure out what it means for me if I keep thinking about Finn being here. Because he’s not.

And that hurts.

But it’s true.

Breathe.

So.

For Finn’s sake.

Because he would want me to.

I need to let myself accept his death.

Breathe.

And that hurts.

But the truth hurts.

I’ll just have to breathe through it.





fifteen





I’ve thrown myself into my classes these past two weeks.

Finn would have wanted me to go to college, so I’m going to college, damn it.

In high school, I managed to squeak onto the honor roll every semester, and that was good enough for me. I didn’t worry about moving up the rank or whatever. Sylvie was determined to be in the top ten, and Finn joined her in that goal while privately sharing his relief that she wasn’t determined to be valedictorian.

In college, I’ve set myself a strict schedule. I’m up early (before Brett), and I eat a balanced-ass breakfast. I go to my classes and take thorough notes, and my mind never wanders from the lecture. After my last class, I head to the library. I type up my notes. I highlight my textbooks. I read ahead.

Between classes, it’s more difficult not to think about Finn. I try to concentrate on the lectures I’ve heard, but when I can’t do that, I read flyers as I walk. There’re unending flyers posted on campus. Flyers for parties, flyers for student films, flyers for political events. I’ve become knowledgeable about all that’s happening on campus, even if I never attend anything.

Sometimes I see Brett the boring on campus at the Frisbee golf games or outdoor painting workshops, so I guess he’s branched out from dorm activities. He has remained a mystery I do not want to solve, though it still bothers me that he feels the same about me, since he never gave me a chance.