Still Point

by Katie Kacvinsky

  I didn’t care.

  We got tired of standing, so we sank into a free couch in the back. I straddled Justin and my hair fell over my face and he had to move it away so he could find my lips. Music and people and time blurred. We were still sitting there, I guess. The room was still there, and walls, but it was all white noise. It all faded into the background, and I was alone with one person.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I used to see people acting this way in virtual clubs, or in movies—making out and groping each other in public—and I always thought it was disgusting and why couldn’t they do it in private. But now I wondered if they were just hanging in a fleeting moment, never sure if they would ever get another chance. Maybe they were just meeting or leaving or on the brink of separating and they were letting it all out. That’s what I needed to do tonight. To do more every day. Just let it all go. All the bad stuff. The grit. And let the love in.

  Even in public.

  Chapter Eight

  The black cement walls were cold against my bare arms. I stood in the hallway outside the club. Justin was leaning up against me, one hand pressed against the wall, the other one clasped hard on my waist. He rested his forehead against mine.

  “I missed you,” I breathed.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you too.”

  I missed this so much, this being alive, this waking up. Everyone else seemed to want me hypnotized and controlled, under some kind of sleep-induced spell.

  “You’re finally touching me again,” I said. Since I had escaped from the detention center two months earlier, Justin had been hesitant with me. Tonight he let go too.

  He nodded his forehead against mine and let out a long breath, like he was just as relieved. “I was afraid before,” he admitted. “I thought if I went too fast, you’d have a seizure or something.” He moved his mouth down my cheek until I could feel his lips against my neck.

  “Don’t be careful with me,” I said. “You’re the last person I want to give me space.”

  He leaned back a little so he could see me. “Then what are you doing?” he said. I could see in his eyes that this was torturing him. He still wanted me to go with him.

  “I have a plan,” I said.

  “Maddie—”

  Becky came around the corner and interrupted us. I blinked at her, confused for a second, like she’d stumbled into my fantasy.

  “There you two are,” she said. “My mom’s wondering where I am. We need to get going.”

  I nodded and looked back at Justin. His fingers still clung to my waist. He didn’t let up. I kissed him quickly before I slipped out of his hands and followed Becky to the door. I looked back before I walked out, and he was watching me, leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. His face was flushed and his hair was a mess and his eyes were on fire, and I could still feel the warmth of his skin. Walking out that door was one of the hardest things I had ever had to do.

  “You two had a romance marathon going on,” Becky noted, sitting across the aisle of the train.

  I chewed on the corner of my pinkie nail and blushed. I was floating. I looked out at the moon and admired how it painted everything metallic; even the wet leaves hung like silver ornaments.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m not usually like that. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” she said. “I think you two are awesome together. You’re going to have supersmart, superhot, superhero kids.”

  I laughed and stretched my feet across the aisle until they were nearly touching Becky’s sandals. My body felt loose, like someone had unglued all my tendons. “I think we’re a ways away from that.”

  “How is it ever going to work between you two? Considering who your father is?”

  My mind snapped out of its daydream. “I try not to think about it.”

  Her eyes were steady on mine. “Maybe you should. You guys are obviously in love. But it seems masochistic to me, falling for the one guy you can never have.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said, suddenly annoyed. It’s easy to think people have no business giving you advice when it isn’t the advice you want to hear. But she had a point. I laid my head against the train seat. My entire body was warm, my cheeks were pink, my skin was hot. Being with Justin was like taking a drug; it was a high my body crashed into with a scintillating rush. When I immersed myself in it, I could feel my whole body glow on the inside until it pushed out. I just wanted to focus on that. I didn’t want to think about the crash that always came later, because I was too addicted to the high.

  I took Justin’s advice—to stop thinking so much and to feel more. I wouldn’t let myself think tonight. I wouldn’t let myself doubt. I just wanted to soak in this perfect moment.

  The next morning I walked downstairs and stalled when I heard my father’s voice in the kitchen, echoing down the hall. At first I thought he was home, and my chest deflated, but I realized he was just face-chatting my mom.

  “She was with Becky,” I heard my mom say.

  I inched my way down the hall.

  “This isn’t what we agreed to,” my dad argued.

  “We never agreed on anything. I think Maddie should get out of the house. If you want to make rules, then you stay home to enforce them.”

  “I can’t be home right now, Jane.”

  “Well, I’m not playing cop in this house. If you want to tie Maddie down, then you come home and do it yourself. I’m just happy to have her home, Kevin. For whatever reason she came back, for however long, I’ll take what I can get. But I’m not forcing her to stay here. That never worked.”

  “I’ll be home in a few days,” my dad said. “We can talk about it then.”

  The call snapped off and the wall screen switched to a morning news program. My mom turned as I walked into the kitchen.

  “Hi,” she said. I wasn’t sure whether I should thank her or apologize, but she took care of the silence by listing breakfast options.

  I sat down and we watched the news coverage in Portland and Washington, D.C., discussing interviews with politicians preparing for the national vote. Reporters talked about the vote as if it had already happened. No one even mentioned the words oppose, disagree, argue. We were ghosts.

  “I almost forgot to give you your books this year,” my mom said. Every year around my birthday, she handed down ten real, paper books to me. It had become our tradition. She got up and came back a minute later with a cloth bag. She took the books out one by one, carefully handling them as if they were rare artwork, and displayed them on the table.

  I looked at each one, running my hands over the colorful, smooth covers, as beautiful as pictures you could frame. There were two books of poetry. A mystery series. A memoir.

  “I love this one,” my mom said, and flipped over a book called The Missing Piece. “The message changes every time you read it depending on where you are in your life. I reread it every year. I have my own copy.”

  I looked at the simplistic line drawings inside. It was mostly white space, as if so much of the story was there for readers to interpret for themselves. I liked that. It made me think that so much of life is white space, waiting to be filled.

  “This one’s my favorite,” she said. It was a square hardcover book, large and heavy. “It’s local photography,” she said, and bent over me, flipping through the pages. “It captures pictures of Oregon today, contrasted with pictures of Oregon one hundred years ago. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

  I looked at my pile of new friends.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “How was the movie?” she asked, and sat down.

  “What movie?” I asked. Oh, crap. “Oh, the movie.” Double crap. “It was very . . . entertaining.”

  I started chewing my nails. I am a terrible sporadic liar, especially when I knew my mom deserved the truth. “It was just a sports club, Mom. We watched soccer games and then we danced. That’s it. No rioting, no police. Maybe
some boys.”

  My mom blew a long breath out of her nose.

  “Don’t tell Becky’s parents. Her dad would probably send her to a detention center for looking at a boy.”

  She took a sip of tea. “Was Justin there?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Mom. My boyfriend, Justin, was there.”

  For an instant a smile crossed her face, but she quickly swept it away.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Yes, and it’s getting pretty serious. And don’t say you’re disappointed in me because I know you’re not. You’ve always liked Justin. You can’t even keep a straight face when he’s around.”

  She didn’t say anything. She looked down at the table.

  “I’m being honest, so you should too,” I said.

  “I knew you weren’t going to a movie. I’ve had a rebellious teenager long enough to know better than Margaret Thompson.”

  I smiled. “Then why did you let me go?”

  “Because every day I wake up with one wish, Maddie. That someday I’ll have my family back. I lost Joe to the digital world. I lost your father to his career years ago. Now you’re practically running away because you can’t stand this lifestyle, and honestly, I don’t blame you. But I can’t run away, because I have commitments. And even though I don’t agree with your father on everything, I still love him. He’s a good man.”

  I thought about this. “What do you do when you don’t agree with the person you love?”

  She sighed. “You agree to disagree. But you need to respect each other. If you lose the respect, then you have problems. And that’s one thing I haven’t lost. I still respect your dad, for what he’s trying to do.”

  “Does Dad know where I went last night?”

  She nodded. “He knows you went out. He’s furious.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him that you went to a movie with Becky. I don’t know if he bought it, but I’m not going to play prison guard. You’re an adult. If he’s upset, he can come home and talk to you about it. I’m not tracking you, Maddie. As far as I’m concerned, when your father leaves, do what you want.”

  I stared at my mom with surprise. I had an ally.

  “You’re on my side.” It wasn’t a question.

  She looked at me with sad eyes. “Why did you come home, Maddie?” she asked. “To make your father look like a monster? To ruin him?”

  I shook my head. “Mom, I came home because I want the same thing you do. I want our family back together. What we’re doing isn’t working. Something is driving us all apart. I can sit around all day and whine about how I wish my family got along, and miss the way we used to be, or I can do something about it. Actively do something.”

  She nodded and her eyes filled with tears. Her chin started to tremble but she held herself together. “I’m afraid, Maddie,” she said. She spoke quietly, like she was confessing a secret. “I’m afraid your father might go to jail for what’s coming out about the detention centers. He’s hiding something. And he won’t open up to me. He’s been meeting with attorneys every week—that’s why he’s out of town so much. They’re already planning the defense for his case. He keeps saying he wants to protect me.” She shook her head. “But your father’s idea of protection has become secrets. And I’m not okay with that anymore.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said. “You haven’t lost any of us. Joe still loves you. We all love you.”

  Her voice came out flat. “I only talk to him a few times a year, through a screen. That’s not a relationship. I want to be in my kids’ lives, not a digital icon they have updates with when it’s convenient. That’s not enough for me. And with you I know I can have more. I need that.” My mom looked outside, through curtains that only seemed to be open when my dad was out of town. “I love that since you’ve been home the windows are open. I want to open our lives up again.”

  “I promise to stay close, Mom,” I said, and I meant it. I hated seeing all the sadness in her eyes, and maybe I couldn’t fix it, but I could at least support her. She supported everyone. But who supported my mom?

  It was such a gift, to be here, sitting with her. I used to count the days when I could put space between us, but now I basked in her company. There are so many things and people we don’t notice until we are forced to live away from them. Why does closeness make us so blind?

  “You grew up,” my mom said. She reached across the table and ran her fingers over my cheek, down to my jaw. “It’s a hard thing for parents to grasp. One day you blink and your children are adults.”

  I smiled. I wondered if my father accepted that yet. My mom seemed to be reading my thoughts.

  “Your dad loves you. He’s more stressed out right now than you know. Give him a little time.”

  “Do you think his job will ever settle down?” I asked.

  “I hope so. I fell in love with him for how passionate he was. He wanted to make the world a better place. Not very many people are that ambitious. But this is the reality,” she said, and pointed around our huge, perfect, perfectly empty house. “He’s never here.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Somebody has a boyfriend,” I said as I jumped onto the train next to Clare. I had asked her to meet me when I saw her at the club the night before. I needed her help.

  Her entire face lit up. “I’ve had a crush on Gabe all year.”

  I sat down next to her, so close our legs were touching. The rainy mist and fog turned everything outside a shade of gray. We could hardly see out the train windows.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

  “It started happening at the detention center. I didn’t want to tell you, under the circumstances.”

  “It’s not the most romantic setting,” I agreed. “Unless you’re into storage basements and eroding tunnels.”

  She nodded. “I thought it would be a little selfish to tell you I was falling madly in love while you were being psychologically tortured.”

  “That’s sweet of you,” I said.

  “He’s moving up to Portland this summer,” she added easily.

  My mouth fell open. Clare and I had been talking about moving to Portland together after the national vote. We wanted to be roommates.

  “That happened fast.” I was surprised to feel jealous. Clare deserved to be happy.

  She nodded. “When it’s right, I think it should happen fast. Relationships should be easy. It’s the ones that take too much work that aren’t worth the time.” She caught herself as she was saying this and noticed my expression change. “No offense,” she said, and pointed at me. “I’m not trying to date Mr. Real World Avenger.”

  “Got it,” I said, and pushed my lips into a smile. But her advice sank in, under the surface, and rolled inside my head. I wondered what it would be like to meet someone you connected with and fall into a relationship. Go on dates, watch movies, make dinner. The timing is right. Your feelings are mutual. Your goals fall into place. Your parents actually like him. Must be nice.

  “Anyway, it’s not like he’s moving in with us. He met some guys who live up there.”

  She wrapped her arm around mine and started to talk about how fun it would be with all of us together in the city—me, Gabe, and Justin. I tried to envision it, but I couldn’t picture it as clearly as she could.

  “Justin’s going to move there, right?” she asked. “Isn’t that the plan?”

  “We haven’t talked about it. It took him a year just to admit he liked me,” I reminded her. “Justin’s more of a live-in-the-moment kind of person. I don’t think he plans more than a week into the future.”

  Come to think of it, Justin and I had never actually been on a real date.

  “People are worth some planning,” Clare said.

  “I think he gets that,” I said in his defense. “We talk about things when they happen, when they’re in the present. Besides, why talk about an invisible point in the future? You’re just making predictions. Justin says that people can
waste their lives planning and never actually do anything. He claims nothing happens the way you plan it, so why bother?”

  The more I heard myself rambling, the more I realized I was filling silence with words because I really didn’t know the answer.

  “He’s pretty impulsive,” Clare agreed. “You might need to drop anchor on that kid one of these days.”

  I felt an irritation tickle through my chest, down to my stomach. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you two might need to sit down and discuss that big, scary word.”

  I scrunched my face together. “Marriage? Ech. Please.”

  She laughed. “Not marriage. The future. Planning is like emotional insurance. If circumstances suddenly change, you can handle them better because at least you have some blueprints to work off of.”

  “Emotional insurance—I like that,” I said. That’s what best friends were for. They encouraged you to take giant leaps, but they were always there to be your parachute.

  The train wheezed to a stop, and Clare and I jumped down to the street.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked, and tried to match my fast stride.

  “A house visit,” I said, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Clare stopped in midstep. I looked back at her, over my shoulder. “You’ve done these before,” I said. “I thought you’d be up for it.”

  “Have you ever done a house visit?” she asked. The fear in her eyes made me stop walking.

  “No,” I said.

  “Does this person know you’re coming?”

  I shook my head. “It’s just a drop-by.”

  She looked at me like I was nuts. “Maddie, that’s crazy. You don’t randomly drop by people’s houses these days. They arrest you.”

  I waved my hand in the air like I was batting away her comment. “You guys do it all the time.”

  She shook her head. “We always contact people first. We feel it out. We do background checks. Then we meet them in person, just like we did with you.”