We Are Inevitable by Gayle Forman (read aloud txt) 📕

all muddied up with memories of Sandy. “You got in the accident. You got addicted to painkillers.”

“That’s it?”

“No. No. Your parents didn’t want to face up to your addiction. They wanted to think you were perfect.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know what else. What else is there? Oh, I forgot the most important part. You’ve been sober almost a year.”

“Why is that the most important part?”

“A year. It’s a big accomplishment.”

“You make it sound like I’ve crossed some finish line.”

“Well, maybe not that. But getting closer. And a lot of people don’t make it that far. My brother sure as shit didn’t.”

At the mention of my brother, Hannah quietly curses, shaking her head.

“What?” I ask.

“Pull over, please.”

“Where?” We’re in the middle of nowhere. Just miles of dry, dusty road.

“Anywhere. I’m getting out.”

“Why?”

“Stop the car, Aaron.”

“Hannah, if I said something wrong . . .”

“Stop the fucking car, Aaron.” Her voice is a quiet growl.

I pull over. “Look,” I begin. “I clearly did something wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have come down, so soon into our relationship, and without asking. I see that it seems a little nuts—”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” she interrupts.

“I told you. I came to see you. To know you.”

“If you really came to see me, if you knew me, even a little bit, you’d have understood that this is my first visit with my family since I left. How hard that is for me. And you wouldn’t have made it harder.”

“No! That’s the last thing I want to do.” I reach for her hands. In spite of the heat, they feel cold.

“Then why are you here?” she repeats.

“I came to see you.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I’m in love with . . .”

She silences me with a slice of her hand in the air. “You don’t know me well enough to be in love with me.”

“Don’t say that! I’ve been in love with you since the minute I saw you. And you felt it too. Our connection. You said so.”

She shakes her head.

“You can’t deny it. We just had the most amazing two days together. You found me my perfect song.”

She takes off her seat belt and turns to me. “Tell. Me. Why. You’re. Here.”

“Because I love you.”

But Hannah knows something can be true and still not be the truth. She says, “You know, I’ve been around addicts long enough to know when someone’s hustling me.”

“I’m not hustling you. And I’m not an addict. My fucking brother was the goddamn addict!”

I see the words come out of my mouth, like a poison vapor. I can see them enter Hannah’s bloodstream.

“Like I am a goddamn addict.”

“No! You’re nothing like him. You didn’t choose to become an addict. You didn’t ruin your family’s life.”

“No one chooses to become an addict.”

“Sandy did! Over and over again! He chose drugs over us. You want to know why I’m here? I’m here because you’re the first good thing that’s happened to me since my brother got sick. Since our family business went under. Since my mom was so broken she had to leave and my father came apart. You’re the one good thing, Hannah. And I’m so tired of bad things. I know they’re inevitable but I want a good inevitable thing. And that’s you.”

And then the dam breaks and all the years of anger and fear and sadness and loneliness and guilt come pouring out of me in a torrent of tears and snot.

Hannah gathers me in her arms. “Oh, baby,” she croons as she rocks me back and forth. All I want is to stay in this embrace. Never go back to the store, to Ira, the Lumberjacks, Chad.

We stay that way for a while and then I guess the relief of it, and the exhaustion of the past few days, catches up with me because I fall asleep.

When I wake up, the light’s different. Softer. The air in the car feels warm, intimate, the two of us enclosed in a bubble. If we could stay here forever, I would.

“Hey,” I say, wiping some drool from my cheek. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple hours,” she says.

There’s a crick in my neck that I try to massage out.

“Here,” Hannah says, reaching over to rub it for me.

I close my eyes. “That feels good.” Hannah massages a bit more. “I’m sorry about losing it before. Laying all that on you. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

“I can see that. And I’m glad you were honest with me. It clarified some things.” She stops rubbing and I open my eyes.

“Like the guy you got involved with is clueless when it comes to romance and relationships?”

“Oh, that was clear from the jump,” she says with a rueful smile.

I lean in closer, wanting to bridge any distance between us. I kiss her. Her lips are warm and soft, but after a second she pulls away. “I have to tell you something.”

I might be new to the girlfriend thing, unpracticed in relationships, but I know I have to tell you something is a precursor to an asteroid. I have to tell you something is what Ira told me when they put Sandy in rehab the first time. What Mom told me when she had to leave.

“Please, don’t say it.”

She says it: “I can’t be involved with you.”

“No. NO! You’re the one thing in my life that makes me feel good.”

She reaches out to touch my face. “Funny. That’s how I used to feel about heroin.”

“It’s not the same. You’re not a drug.”

“Aren’t I? You’re using me to run away. And you’re keeping so many secrets. The fact that I didn’t see it, or chose not to see it, proves I’m not ready for a relationship.” She looks at me. “And neither are you.”

“We’ll get ready together. To be ready for each other.”

“That’s not how recovery works.”

“Don’t do this! Don’t throw this away. We’re meant for each other.”

“Why? Because I was reading some book?”

“Not some book! You were reading The Magician’s Nephew. You had ‘This Must Be the Place’ on your perfect-song mix.”

“What’s