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She’s pretty sure he’s a ghost, the first time she sees him in the quad. She moved across the country to get away from what they’d done and seen back at Westerberg; so of course she began to see him in random places.
This is not the way she thought she would crack up. Only she would have a crack-up after the action, out of place, like a credit roll arriving at the beginning of the movie.
And it appeared that her mind is determined to keep on cracking. She saw JD at a coffee shop where she’d come to write some (bullshit) poetry. At the black box theatre where Martha’s performing in a small play. When she was at the mall trying to buy a Halloween costume. But she ignored him until he happened to appear on her doorstep, clutching his own bloody hand.
Before he could get a word out, she maced him.
“Shit,” he said eloquently, and pulled his hand back, wincing as blood trickled forth from his fist.
“I thought I killed you, you piece of shit!” she replied.
He held his hand out, the other covering his streaming eyes. “I know. We have a lot to talk about, but could we solve my massive hand wound first?”
Veronica rolled her own. “It doesn’t look massive to me.”
“It’s bleeding on your doorstep.”
It – and he - was. She sighed and let him stagger blindly behind her into her dorm room, first taking off her Curtis College sweatshirt. He raised an eyebrow as she used it to temporarily staunch the wound. “Why didn’t you go to the ER?”
“Because I did this to myself trying to break into a candy machine. I’m hungry, and technically dead.” She grabbed his other hand and dragged him to the bathroom, which she locked closed behind her. She didn’t want to explain to Heather why her allegedly-dead former boyfriend was now bleeding into their sink.
Veronica knew enough about first aid to run hot water over the cut before applying alcohol. He winced and hissed. “It can’t hurt worse than exploding,” she said. Now she applied a paper towel to the cut.
“I’m going to have to explain myself,” he said.
“Yeah, do that,” she said, while squirting antibiotic cream on the cut. It was starting to clot up, she wouldn’t have to worry about him actually bleeding out.
“I knew I couldn't let you die again, once I knew you were among the living,” he explained. “And I also didn’t want you to be tied back to our mauvais,” he said. “So I took the easy way out and pretended to die.”
She stared at his hand, carefully, slowly wrapping it up. “And then what?”
“And then I started running around the country. Trying to change it for the better.” He shrugged. “It’s easy because everyone thinks I’m dead. I don’t have to worry about college, or what my father wanted me to do. So I’ve just been out there trying to do the right thing. I’ve been doing fairly well on that front, but I’ll be damned if I don’t miss you.”
“And why did you come back to me? Just because you missed me? Not because you need someone to pin the blame on?” She slapped a big bandage on the back of his hand, but then she caressed it. She remembered well what his hands could do, how it felt even to hold them in her own.
“No. I’m trying to do what you asked me to do before.”
He shook his head, then leaned down to peck her on the lips. And how that simple brush of his mouth on hers caused a million feelings to rise up! Veronica stared up at him, feeling out of sorts. She wanted a better explanation or a better excuse. Anything that would make her feel like she could find forgiveness with him.
“Well. Thanks,” she muttered. Then she made way at the sink so he could flush the mace out of his eyes. That took a surprisingly long time; she cupped some warm water in her hands after awhile, flushing his irritated eyes. When they were done, he blew his nose on some toilet paper, wiped his face dry, and put on a pair of sunglasses to hide the redness of his eyeballs. She reached out and patted the side of his face – to make sure he wasn’t crying, could see her coming. He took her attention with smirking, patient good humor.
“That kiss was to thank you for the band-aid. And I didn’t mean to stalk you,” he said. “It just kind of happened that way. Look, I don’t know what to do with my life now that high school’s over. My goal was to destroy the social hierarchy of a high school because someone was finally doing something about the emotional rot everyone was going through! I didn’t think it would go that far. Well, I hoped it would, for awhile…”
She did remember his zeal for killing, his enthusiasm for it. In certain cases, she couldn’t blame him for it. “None of us did. It’s not like we meant to kill Kurt and Ram, it’s just that…”
“…The world felt like it would be better off without them,” he said.
“And I’m not sure if that’s true anymore. I don’t even think it was true when we were seventeen and stupid,” she said.
“Well, now that we’re nineteen and wise we don’t need to commit mass murder to make a point,” he said. “Heather lived, and Martha lived - and they’re still alive – because you jumped in on the side of righteousness.”
She snorted. “No, I just made sure that they didn’t kill themselves. No one’s lucky all the time.”
“We’ve been lucky enough.”
She ran her palm up the flat of the back of his hand. “Well, you should be all fixed up. Guess you can go on doing your Highway to Heaven thing.”
“I think I can do a little bit of good in Boston,” he said. “Unless I’m in your way.”
She stared up at him. “You have to know I’ve changed a bit,” she said. “College isn’t high school”
“Secret identities and therapy,” he said, explaining it all without having to explain it all. “I’ve got those stripes in myself.”
“How did you do therapy when everyone thinks you’re dead?”
“It’s amazing what can be accomplished with a burner phone.” Then J.D. sat down on the edge of the sink. She sighed. She placed a hand on his knee.
“So can I buy you a slush-flavored drink?” he asked. The idea appealed.
Veronica’s nose wrinkles at the statement. It’s as if nothing has changed and everything has changed. “The next time you want to make a big political statement,” she said, “don’t drag anyone who’s not a total prick I into it.”
“Your word is law,” he said. His lips skated her shoulder blade, and she melted a little more, quietly planning what their first real date would look like.