Now and Forever Page 15

  Even more unreal? Girls are dressing and accessorizing like me. They’re making custom tees that look like the MY BOYFRIEND IS A ROCK STAR tee Ethan gave me, which is sold out. I saw a few links to knockoff tees on Ethan’s fan page. Girls are rocking my floaty dress/four-inch heels signature look and posting pics with captions like STERLING STYLE.

  This isn’t the first picture of me alone to show up in a magazine. Pictures of me with Ethan are everywhere. Sometimes I don’t even recognize us anymore. Ethan bought a black Ferrari 250 California Spyder on a whim. It’s an extremely rare car that’s crazy expensive. He got a tattoo. It’s on the inside of his left forearm, right above the bend of his elbow. It says Forever in black script. Ethan told me he was thinking of me when he got it. About how I’m his forever.

  Except it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Right now, I’m planning to be in Vermont for the next four years and trying to accept that Ethan and I will probably see each other even less next year and dealing with the complete absence of privacy in my life. I’m totally stressed out. But for Ethan, it’s another night in another city. Another show bringing him one step closer to world domination.

  I put the magazine on top of the pile with all the others we’ve been in. Then I check Ethan’s fan page for some major news he told me would probably drop today. There it is. The release date of his second album. With an announcement of his upcoming international tour. There’s a new topic being hotly debated by the fans. Ethan was on The View yesterday. The hosts were asking him about me. They asked him if it was true that he wrote “Now and Forever” for me. When they asked if Ethan thought we’d be together forever, here’s what he said:

  “Forever is a long time. I love Sterling. But none of us can guarantee anything forever. Look at the divorce rate. Over half of all marriages end in divorce. No one gets married thinking their marriage will end. But look how frequently it happens.”

  I’m trying to forget what he said. I’m trying not to think about what it means for our future.

  Of course the media is all over this. Rumors that we’re breaking up are spreading. Everyone keeps repeating this blurb from the interview:

  “Forever is a long time. . . . None of us can guarantee anything forever.”

  After a few rumors spreading like wildfire and an edited blurb taken out of context being posted everywhere, Ethan’s image has gone from beloved sweetheart to reprehensible womanizer. As any dedicated army would, Ethan’s fans are defending him en masse. They won’t stand for a weak public opinion of their idol. I scroll through the comments on Ethan’s fan page. They’re also defending his baller slip.

  None of them know Ethan. All they’ve heard are a few twisted blurbs from the media. Did they even watch the entire interview?

  What he said was totally taken out of context. They’re basing their judgments of him on lies. They don’t know.

  This is just like when people got all uptight about the baller thing. A person can’t be perfect all the time. People make mistakes. Why isn’t Ethan allowed to make one mistake? It’s so stupid.

  I don’t know what impresses me more: the fans’ fierce loyalty or the lack of typos in their comments. Almost all of them are bringing their grammatical A-game to defend Ethan.

  Ethan’s calling me. He called me twice yesterday, plus this morning. Nothing like a snarky media frenzy to get your boyfriend to blow up your phone. Right after the interview aired, Ethan called to tell me he was caught off guard by the question. He didn’t know they were going to word it like that. But he swore he meant everything he’s told me in private.

  “How are you holding up?” he asks when I answer.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry this has gotten so absurd. It’ll die down soon.”

  “I know.”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” How ironic is it that Ethan’s being more available right when I don’t feel like talking to him? Ever since talking to Damien last week when I realized how Ethan-centric my solar system had become, I haven’t been as obsessed with staying updated on every little piece of Ethan Cross news. This is the first time I’ve checked his fan page in a while. I’m not sure how healthy it is to be orbiting Ethan’s star anymore.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  “Good. I’ve been working on this idea. For a video series.”

  “Cool! Zeke will love it.”

  “No, it’s not . . . it’s about me.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know how I’m into cooking.”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I was thinking it might be fun to do a video series on cooking. Like where I can share my favorite recipes and tips and techniques and stuff. It would probably be mainly geared toward college students. Do you know how hard it is to cook at college? No one cooks unless they live off campus and have their own kitchen. Which I’ll focus on, like how to cook on a college-student budget. And I can do some videos on how to cook gourmet meals on a tight budget with only a toaster oven or microwave. I’m not exactly sure yet. I’m still working out the details.”

  Silence from Ethan’s end.

  “Hello?” I say. “Are you still there?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way. But . . . why would you want to do that?”

  My heart sinks. I was really hoping Ethan would be as excited about my idea as I am.

  “For fun,” I say.

  “It sounds more like work.”

  “But fun work.”

  “You’d have to plan each video. Film them. Stress over building an audience. Why would you want to put yourself through all that hassle?”

  “That’s what people do. You of all people should understand the process of building something from nothing.”

  “Why would you want to put so much time and energy into something that would only have a few hundred followers? If that?”

  If that? Ethan doesn’t even think I could get a few hundred followers? “It’s not about how many followers I’d have. It’s about creating something. Making a contribution. Connecting with people in a meaningful way. No matter how many people are watching.” Doesn’t Ethan get that? Where did he go?

  “Listen. I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just looking at this on a much larger scale.”

  So Ethan is basically saying my idea sucks. The first idea I’ve had in forever that doesn’t involve him and he hates it. I can’t believe he’s not supporting me. I’ve been his number one fan for so long. Why can’t he be the same for me?

  I try to remember New Year’s Eve. I remember what Ethan said to me. How he said to remember that night when we’re apart. To remember how much he loves me.

  But that night is from another era when forever meant something. That night is distant. Muted.

  Almost like it happened in a dream.

  41

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  “What a squat on you,” Gram says.

  That’s what Gramp used to say when I was little. He taught me how to play cards. Including the game Gram and I always play, Rummy 500. If you have a squat, it means you hold spreads until you can go out. Then you put everything down on the table at once and everyone else has to eat the cards they’re holding. I’m not sure how the term “squat” was coined. “Stealth like a ninja” would probably be a better description.

  Gram shakes her head at the spreads I just threw down: three queens; the five, six, seven, and eight of hearts; three tens; and four, not three, aces.

  “Merciless,” she complains. “Just merciless.”

  “I was taught by the best.”

  “No argument there.” Gram adds up her points and writes down her score. “How’d you do?”

  “One forty.”

  “The squat on her,” Gram mumbles. Her pencil reluctantly scratches my 140 on the score sheet next to the 30 points she managed to scrape by with.

  “You still have a chance to catch up. Sort of.”

  Gram looks at me.

  “What?�
�� I ask.

  “I’m proud of you. You’re growing into a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. It’s remarkable.”

  “Thanks, Gram.” I wonder where that came from. I’m not that good at cards.

  Gram collects the cards and shuffles. I notice she’s not wearing her wedding ring.

  “What happened to your wedding ring?”

  “It’s being cleaned. So how’s Ethan? Where is he tonight?”

  “Boston. He’s good.”

  “Such a wonderful boy.”

  Out of nowhere, I burst into tears.

  “My goodness.” Gram comes around from her chair on the other side of the coffee table and sits next to me on the couch. “What is it?”

  This whole time I’ve been telling Gram all about the glamorous parts of being Ethan’s girlfriend. About the gloss and shine. About designers sending me fabulous clothes. About how amazing it is to travel with Ethan on tour and watch shows from backstage. I keep the fear and anxiety hidden. Partially because I don’t want to bother Gram with the negative side. Partially because I keep hoping the negative side will disappear.

  Now I see that it never will.

  I tell Gram everything. The nasty fan comments about me. The ways Ethan is changing. How he isn’t supporting my goals. How he said he couldn’t guarantee that we’ll be together forever. I still want to believe him when he promises forever. But it’s getting harder every day.

  It’s so hard being apart from him all the time. Much harder than I thought it would be. Even when I get to see him on the road, it’s not the same. It almost feels like what we have isn’t real anymore. Somehow our relationship has turned into a spectacle. We’re a target for haters. The subject of rumors. A pop-culture debate topic. Will they stay together? Or will Ethan Cross take advantage of his superstar status to trade his high school sweetheart in for an upgrade?

  “If you’re meant to be together, it will all work out,” Gram says. “But if you’re unhappy more than you’re happy . . . that doesn’t sound like much fun, does it?”

  “Relationships aren’t always fun,” I protest.

  “No, they’re not. They can be downright hard sometimes.” Gram rubs my back. “You’ll get through this. Just promise me that you’ll always be true to yourself. Promise that you’ll always follow your heart.”

  “I promise.” I want to follow my heart. I really do. But what if your heart is leading you back to a boy who might not be your forever? What are you supposed to do then?

  42

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  Ethan breaks this news to me on the phone: “I can’t go to the prom.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t go. I’m really sorry, Sterling. I know how much the prom means to you. I hate disappointing you like this.”

  There’s no way I’m hearing him right. We talked about this. Zeke was going to keep that night free so Ethan could take me to our senior prom. We were supposed to have that final classic high school experience together before it’s all over.

  “But Zeke said you could go. He knew about the prom before your tour started.”

  “Yeah, but he kind of forgot about the prom when he booked the Oprah interview. Oprah only does a few select interviews. It was complicated to schedule.”

  Well. I can’t argue with Oprah.

  “You’re mad,” Ethan says. “I totally understand. I suck.”

  “No, I’m not mad. I’m sad. I was really looking forward to the prom.”

  “I know. But this interview is important. It’ll bring a lot of crossover exposure. Zeke’s been working on expanding my twenty-five-to-thirty-four audience.”

  “I miss you,” I say desperately.

  “I miss you, too. We’ll see each other next week. Then the tour will be over and I’ll come home.”

  “For how long?”

  “We don’t know yet. I’ll be working on the second album all summer. I might have to stay in New York for a while.”

  My stomach twists. Ethan’s been talking about getting an apartment in downtown Manhattan. The thought of him in his fancy New York apartment while I’m three hundred miles away at the University of Vermont is too depressing for words.

  When did my boyfriend become just a voice on the phone?

  I remember when Georgia and I were talking about how she broke up with Andy back in Oregon before she moved here. She totally did the right thing. Long-distance relationships don’t work. Unless you know you’ll be together again in the near future. But if it looks like that will never happen, then what’s the point?

  I want to stay with Ethan. I can’t imagine not being with him. He makes me so happy. And I know I make him happy. Finding someone you not only love, but love being with isn’t easy.

  There has to be a way to make this work.

  “Did you see that fan video for ‘Night on Fire’?” Ethan asks.

  “No.”

  “She’s actually really good. You should check it out.”

  After we get off the phone, I go to Ethan’s fan page. The fan video was retitled as “Burning with Desire.” The still shot of the video shows a pretty blonde girl sitting on a couch with a guitar. I click PLAY.

  The fact that this girl wants Ethan isn’t surprising. What’s surprising is how blatant she is about it.

  You’re with another girl now

  but things change over time.

  I can’t wait for how

  one day you’ll be mine.

  Watching this pretty blonde girl try to seduce my boyfriend makes me want to call Ethan again. But I’ve met my allotments of Whiny and Clingy for the day. For the year, actually. I need to stop being that pathetic planet orbiting the Ethan star. I need to focus on my own stuff. Planning the cooking videos. Doing more yoga. Cleaning out my closet. Shifting into college mode.

  What I need is an attitude adjustment. I can’t let the fear of losing Ethan throw me into a panic. Desperation will only make me less attractive to him. I have to calm down. Be confident. Remember how much he loves me. And hope that he remembers, too.

  43

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  Alone in my room.

  On my bed.

  Trying to process what Mom just told me.

  Gram died.

  There was an aneurysm in her brain. It ruptured early this morning in her sleep. She died instantly.

  But that doesn’t make sense. Gram was fine. She recovered from her surgery. She was back to her normal routine. She felt good.

  She was fine.

  I hate myself for not visiting her enough. I should have visited her more. What excuse do I have? She freaking lives down the street.

  Lived.

  I can’t believe it’s true. I can’t believe she’s gone. The only way this will remotely sink in is to see Gram’s empty house for myself.

  Normally I’d go in through the back door that opens into the kitchen. Gram would see me out the window over the sink and wave. Then I’d go right in. Gram didn’t lock the back door during the day. But there’s nothing normal about this visit. This time, the door is locked.

  I let myself in with my key. The house is eerily quiet. I want to call out, “Gram?” like I normally would. I want things to be the way they used to be.

  I want my gram back.

  Everything looks the same. Glasses upside down in the rubber dish drying rack next to the sink. Pillows cheerfully arranged on the couch in the living room. Her desk neat and organized in the den. I sit at her desk. I watched Gram sitting here so many times before. Writing letters. Paying bills. Making to-do lists of tasks that kept repeating themselves over and over, a cycle that would never end.

  Until now.

  I open the top left drawer. Stationery, envelopes, and stamps used to be in here. Now there’s just some kind of legal document, a ring box, and a note.

  The note has my name on it.

  I take everything out. The legal document turns out to be a copy of Gram’s will. Why would she empty out this drawer
and . . .

  Oh my god.

  She knew. She knew about the aneurysm. She knew it could rupture at any second.

  Gram knew she was going to die.

  My hand shakes as I open the note.

  Dear Sterling,

  You’ll find my wedding ring in the box. The ring is for you. I hope you’ll cherish it as I’ve cherished you these past eighteen years.

  By now you’ve probably figured out that I was ready to go. You might be angry that I didn’t tell you. But I wanted us to enjoy the remaining time we had together. I didn’t want to worry you. Not knowing when it would happen was the hardest part. There’s no way we could have prevented or postponed the inevitable. Please forgive me for wanting us to spend our last days together in peace.

  Don’t forget your promise to me.

  Love,

  Gram

  A tear drops on Gram’s signature, making the ink bleed. I should have been there for her. I should have been over here every day. How could I have let all that Ethan drama get in the way of seeing Gram more?

  I call Ethan when I get home. It goes straight to voice mail. I text him to call me as soon as he gets this. My brain is so scrambled I can’t even remember if he has a show tonight. If not, he’s probably at some important event or photo shoot or doing a meet-and-greet with contest winners. He probably can’t get away. Or even look at his phone.

  So I call Damien.

  “Hey,” Damien answers. “How are you?”

  “Horrible. My gram died.”

  “No. I’m so sorry.”

  I’m trying not to burst out crying. That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.

  Her house was empty. She left me her wedding ring. I said it out loud.

  This is real.

  “I thought she was doing better,” Damien says.

  “She was. It happened suddenly.”

  “I wish I could be there for you.”

  Damien is not the type of boy I would normally be interested in. The boy who never went to college. The free spirit doing his own thing. No long-term commitments. Not worrying about tomorrow. But he’s easy to talk to. We can talk for hours and it feels like a few minutes. He really cares about me. You can hear it in his voice. You can see it in his eyes. And he’s always there for me. Which means everything right now.