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Beck closes the door of the RV and stands still for a moment, still staring at it. It looks the same as always, smudged steel with a clouded circular window that never let any light in. The distorted silhouette of the fence separating the driveway from his neighbour’s stares back at him. He released his grip on the handle and exhales and turns around.
They aren’t supposed to be dating anymore. They aren’t dating anymore. This is not dating. This is not like before, Beck is sure of it. Before was intentional. Unstructured, but uniform. Before had rules, even if unspoken, that they could follow. Before, they were dating. Beck was Jade’s boyfriend. Jade was Beck’s girlfriend. Everything made sense. Everything had reason. No, this is not like before.
Now—after?—is alien. Quick text and glances from across the room. Silent treatment in public. Punishing each other for crimes that weren’t crimes. Asking years-old questions because now there aren’t the same boundaries. They owe each other nothing, really. Now, they are acquaintances with more history than they can bear. And Beck doesn’t know what to do about it.
Jade sits on the end of his bed, like she always does. This is unfamiliar, but they have a routine. Jade has been coming over since the RV was purchased. Like clockwork, she beelines for the spot with the best view of the TV. It’s inherent in her now, relationship status be damned.
Still, Beck stands at the door, though facing her now. He looks at her like it’s the first time. Maybe a part of time hopes it will be the last. He can’t keep living like this.
He’d let her in without asking why she’d come over. Not that she ever needed one, or ever gave notice. She knocked now. A new habit that singleness granted her. Gone are the days of Jade barging in, with no regard for his privacy. At one point, it had been endearing. Then, it got irritating. Beck doesn’t miss it, but maybe he misses the circumstances.
“You got new bedsheets,” Jade says, smoothing a wrinkle out. They were light blue. His mom bought them last week. She said his old ones were a disgrace.
Beck shrugs. “Yeah.”
Jade crosses her legs under herself and pats the spot on the bed next to her. An invitation. He takes it, crossing the living area of the RV in three strides. His bed is a twin, but still he manages to put some space between them.
This isn’t dating. It doesn’t even resemble dating. They aren’t even hooking up, fooling around. What’s most confusing to Beck is that he had sort of expected them to. He and Jade aren’t exactly good at being broken up. Last time, they’d barely lasted forty-eight hours. So, he’d thought that something this long-term, permanent, would come with a transition period. How is a person supposed to just stop dating someone? Surely, the shock to the system could kill you.
But this, whatever it is, is not a transition period, either. Simply, Jade knocks on the RV and Beck lets her inside and they sit on his bed and they talk. Sometimes, they watch a movie. They do not kiss, they do not touch one another. Really, they are friends. Beck doesn’t know if he can deal with only being friends with Jade. She is a cold-turkey habit. It has to be all or nothing, or he isn’t quitting at all.
“Do you want to watch something?” Beck asks, reaching onto the side table, cluttered with things he doesn’t remember acquiring, for the remote. His thumb circles the power button for a moment, waiting for an answer.
“No, uh, I want to talk to you about something, actually,” Jade says, and it’s uncharacteristically soft. Like she’s about to break bad news. It has always amazed him how she can speak to him like this, and offer nothing but animosity to everyone else. Even still. What had he done to deserve it?
“Oh.”
No one says anything for a moment. The fish swim around in the own filth, one taps its nose on the glass in a fruitless attempt at an escape. Beck keeps his focus there. Plans to clean the tank, replace the water. Talk to his dad about possibly looking at the water filter. It needs to be on something that isn’t Jade.
“I have a date next week,” Jade says. It’s meant to hurt him, and it does. Not really in the way intended. It's more a reminder of what he doesn’t have than a betrayal. Jade is allowed to have a date next week. So is Beck. And he’s gone on a few. Sat in front of girls who like his hair, and told him often. Attempted conversation, but they wanted to date him because they thought he was hot, not because they liked him . They didn’t want to talk about movies or the winter play. They didn’t talk about anything. Jade used to talk to him about things.
“Oh,” he says again. Nonchalance should come easier to him, but it doesn’t. “Do I know them?”
“No. I don’t think so. He’s from Santa Monica,” Jade says, as casually as this conversation allows. As casually as she can, sitting in his room, telling her ex-boyfriend about her date next week. Beck has never told Jade about his dates. Maybe he should have. He just couldn’t bring himself too.
Beck doesn’t comment on how far away Santa Monica is from Hollywood. It’s not very, he knows that, but he can’t fathom living so far away from the person he’s dating. A thirty-minute drive away from Jade, without traffic, was too far. Impractical.
They are already broken up. This is not another breakup. Yet, still, it feels like one. The same dread, sick relief. A sense of permanence that Beck can’t quite get his head around. There’s something final about this conversation and he hates it. He wishes it didn’t feel necessary, like they’ve been waiting for this longer than they’ve been broken up.
Maybe moving on is worse than being broken up. They’re different, he decides. At least, when they’re just broken up there’s a game they can play. Playful insults that might be flirting, resting on plausible deniability. She can show up at his house unannounced and they can watch Donnie Darko again and nothing about it is taboo. Unorthodox, sure, but when have they ever done what they were supposed to?
“Okay,” Beck says because oh feels so pathetic. Okay is an acceptance, even if reluctant. False. Oh is a wounded animal. This is okay.
Jade readjusts herself, uncomfortable. Trying to shift away from him, no room to move.
“I can cancel,” she says. It might be the worst thing she’s ever said. Rarely does Beck wish Jade kept her mouth shut, but never more than right now.
“No. You don’t have to do that.” Don’t give him hope. They can just be friends.
It’s better that way, as friends. Yes, it’s strange and a little awkward but it’s better. Miles better. Now, they don’t owe each other anything. They’re allowed to take breaks and not speak to each other for days at a time. No one expects anything from them because they aren’t together anymore. They aren’t together anymore so they don’t fight anymore. Their friends like them more now that they’ve broken up.
Beck never expected to ever just be Jade’s friend. On their first day at Hollywood Arts, when they met, Beck sort of knew that they’d never just be friends. Even during the weird transition period before they officially started dating, friends didn’t suit them. Still, it doesn’t. It’s something they’ll have to get used to.
“Do you want me to cancel?” Jade asks. She picks at her nail polish. Eyes on the curve of the ceiling. A sigh traps itself in Beck’s chest.
He shrugs. He doesn’t know.
“This isn’t about me.” But it is. It’s always about Beck. And for him, it’s always about Jade. They revolve around one another. Beck needs a new point of orbit.
“Do you want me to go on the date, or do you not want to be the reason I don’t go?” She looks at him again, curious. He wonders if she knows the answer she wants. Beck sure as hell doesn’t.
Of course, he doesn’t want her to go. In the same way she didn’t want him to go on that date with the girl in his French class. Jade, at least, had the decency to tell Beck about her date.
Beck repeats himself, then pauses. The right thing to say is beyond him. Is there a right way to have this conversation? What are they doing here?
“If I had a date next week, would you ask me to cancel?” Beck asks. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to take the answer.
“Yes,” Jade says. The answer comes to her quickly. Plain, confident. Her weight is on her left arm, leaning behind her.
For once, she isn’t jealous. This has nothing to do with jealousy. Jade wants him to intervene.
Beck clears his throat and stands from his bed. He paces the small space of the RV for a moment, bowing his head as if he’s too tall. His throat is tight.
“Yeah, cancel the date.” It’s almost wrong to say. Beck shouldn’t have any input in this. He feels like he’s just failed a test.
Jade nods and joins him in the middle of the floor. She stands too close to him, looking up at him and pretending this is a normal thing that they do.
“I have to go. We should watch Hard Candy next.” Jade steps back from him and leaves the RV. Maybe Beck is supposed to follow her. He doesn’t.