“Forging frog bodies. Maybe show Jess here how to do some enameling. Then I’m going to let her see which of my scrap metal pieces speak to her so she can start working on a creation of her own.”
“What?” I feel the same panic that started in therapy with the kids. “I don’t want to make anything of my own.” My voice is too sharp.
“Oh my god, this is insanely delicious.” Eliza licks filling off her fingers, oblivious to the panic on my face or the rattled look on Greer’s.
“Yeah, okay.” Greer’s voice has a kind of “Chill, kid” sound to it and she watches me as she leans in and takes a bite of the donut in question. “Mmmm.” She motions for me to take one and I grab the chocolate cayenne with vanilla glaze.
Eliza wipes her hands on one of the cloth napkins piled on the table. “Greer told me about your girlfriend, Jess. Such a terrible thing. How are you holding up? Are you okay?”
I hate these moments, but something about Eliza makes me open a crack. “Some minutes. Some days. I don’t cry as much.”
Eliza nods. “I lost my mom suddenly, I know it’s not the same, but I understand the spiral.” She leans forward and grabs my hand. “Listen, you’re safe here, when the waterworks come, just let them fall. We get it, we won’t ask questions, and we’d love to hear all about her. She must have been special to pick you.”
I feel the prickle on my cheeks that precipitates tears and do a quick inhale, exhale before I respond. “Thanks. She was. I mean, not because she picked me, though that was pretty awesome, she was just so, I don’t know, herself. Always herself.”
“Good quality.” Greer grabs another donut from the box. “How long did y’all date?”
“A little over two years. An intense two plus years.”
Eliza laughs. “Guess you couldn’t U-Haul since you were both still in high school.”
“U-Haul?”
Greer puts her donut down. “Seriously?” Then she looks at Eliza. “Honey, we got old.”
“Speak for yourself, Over Thirty. Twenty-eight is not old.”
Greer turns to me. “U-Hauling is when two lesbians meet and immediately move in with each other.”
I nod. “Oh . . . right.”
Eliza laughs again. “She has no clue. Man, things have changed since we graduated from high school.”
I scramble to let them know I’m not clueless. “No, I’ve heard that, I think. And we sort of did. We were always together. School, after school, weekends. We were lucky because our parents were cool and everybody really liked each other.” I sigh. “It’s why it’s so hard. I miss having that one person who totally gets me.” The prickle intensifies.
Rufus sits up and rests his head on my thigh like he senses my uneasiness.
“What happened?” Eliza asks. “If you’re okay rehashing it, that is.”
I rub the dog’s ears. “It’s okay.” Inhale. Exhale. Talk. “She had asthma and it got aggravated by the fall pollen, or something. Then she caught a flu sort of thing . . .” My voice catches remembering how I didn’t get to say goodbye to Vivi at school that last day.
“Eliza, damnit.” Greer grabs a box of tissues from the counter and puts them on the table. “Look what you’ve done.”
I clear my throat. “It’s okay. She just got really sick and stopped breathing.” What’s weird is how comfortable I am talking to them about it. Way more comfortable than talking to Levi, Cheyanne, or even my mom. Maybe it has to do with Greer and Liza being in a same-sex relationship. They get it. Maybe not the grief part, but they can understand how much I loved Vivi. Sometimes I wonder if straight people think gay relationships are as valid as theirs. I know it’s a paranoid thought, especially when it comes to those who were closest to me and Vivi, but it doesn’t change the connection and solidarity I feel to Greer and Eliza.
Eliza comes and hugs me. “You poor kid. And her parents, too. What a tragedy. Do you see them?”
“They left for France to see Vivi’s grandparents for a while.”
Eliza lets me go. “Well,” Greer says. “We’ll give you both of our cell numbers and if you need to midnight text or chat or whatever, you’ve got yourself some understanding big sisters.” She takes my phone and adds Eliza’s number to her contact info then hands it back.
I slide it in my pocket. “Thanks, y’all.” And I realize I mean it. As hard as it is to dredge up Vivi thoughts, Vivi pain, Vivi memory, at least with Greer and Eliza there’s none of the baggage of my angry years. And they get it. As long as I can stay clear of the making of art that I associate so fully with Vivi, I might be okay. I can use my hands to help someone else and that will be good enough.
Greer stands. “You bet. Now, Eliza, if you’re quite done with making our Jess cry, we’re going out back to get some work done.”
Eliza closes the box of donuts and waves us out the door. “Make pretty.”
“Always do,” Greer replies.
I give Rufus a final hug and follow Greer to the forge.
28
Now: Three Weeks, Four Days After
It’s Thursday, which means afternoon therapy with Mr. A and the littles. I’m having to catch a ride on the bus from school to connect with the city bus. Too much time to think.
As I watch suburbia give way to city streets, my mind wanders to Vivi. I wonder if she’ll always appear so readily to me. Out of habit, I look at my phone, hoping to see that she’s texted or dm’ed me but, of course, there’s nothing. I lean my forehead against the window and feel my hollowness bounce against the glass. There’s a shush, shush sound filling me that is reminiscent of shell against ear and the sound of the ocean. I try to put a name to the sound. Loneliness. Shush, shush. My heartbeat pulsing. Shush, shush. Nobody.
My fingers open my texts and I see the unanswered one from Deuces’s cousin and habit or impulse takes over. My fingers type on automatic pilot. Nothing much, a simple hello. Then, regret. Then even more regret when I see the bubble and dots pop up to indicate she’s responding. They disappear and no text comes. Then they appear again and suddenly I’m invested in this moment and I know it means nothing and that it’s only to stop the loud echoes of my heart and my loneliness. Still, I will a text into being. Just someone, anyone, communicating with me.
Hi, she says.
Then, more dots and bubbles.
Then they disappear.
It hits me she’s nervous or something and now I feel really shitty because I don’t want to lead anyone on and I’m not even in the zone of thinking about dating, but I promised Deuces I’d respond and now I have. And I don’t even fully know why or how this has happened.
Another text appears. Sorry I missed the fight the other night.
This feels safe. I can talk about the asshole at the community center. I text back, You didn’t miss much. My friend hauled me out of there before we got our asses kicked.
—So . . . he’s just your friend?
This doesn’t feel as safe. I hesitate. Yes, of course Levi is just my friend and I don’t want to pretend I’m straight, but man, it’d be a convenient way to extricate myself from this situation. But I don’t want to lie.
—Yeah.
Cool, she responds. Then, You want to maybe hang out sometime? I was looking to find somebody to go with me to this new club I heard about.
Club scene is definitely not in my cards right now. But then I remember I’m grounded, kind of, and that is not a lie.
—Kind of grounded. Definitely can’t pull off late night right now.
The bus takes the final turn toward the VA building so I add another message. Gotta run, at my appointment. Nice to “meet” you.
She texts back a thumbs-up emoji and I don’t know why I feel bad, but I do. Like I shouldn’t be blowing her off so easily. She is Deuces’s cousin and I could at least tell her my story, or get Deuces to, so she understands it’s not about her. And then there’s the shush, shush of my heart that makes me want to reach through the phone and pull any friendly voice close to fill
the cavernous spaces carved out by loss. So I text her back.
—Maybe once I’m not grounded.
As soon as my finger sends it off into space, I want to reach through the phone and pull it back. What the hell was that? Why did I feel the need to leave the door open? I don’t want to go to a club and I definitely don’t want to go with some girl who called me a stud. What does that even mean anyway? I close my eyes and pull Vivi up so she inhabits my senses. I picture every lash, the freckle at the top of her left earlobe, the strong line of her clavicle bone and the way it tied into the softness of her chest. I listen to her laugh and her ugly tears and think of the way her nose was always slightly running in cold weather and how I’d get so grossed out when we kissed. I’d kiss her winter nose a million times if it would bring her back.
I hate thinking of her in the past tense.
The bus stops and as I wind my way into the building toward the meeting room, I’ve worked myself up into a state. My chest feels like crowbars are working from the inside trying to spring my rib cage open and someone has poured wet cement into each of my limbs. My face must look wild because when I walk into the room toward last week’s seat, little Darla flinches.
I turn and hoof it to the bathroom again so I can get my shit together. This time I do something I haven’t done in over a year. I panic dial Samantha. I know my mom had emailed to fill her in on what was going on with me, just in case this moment came, and lucky for me, she answers.
“Jess.” Her voice is warm and familiar and I’m able to release my death grip on Darla’s rock.
“Hey,” I say, not totally sure why I even called her but glad to hear her voice all the same.
“You need me to walk you through the steps?”
I look at myself in the mirror and notice that my biceps have gotten more defined in my little bit of time working the forge. “No,” I say. “I’m not spiraling up. I’m spiraling down.”
“Ah, okay. Tell me about that.”
My voice cracks a little but I hold it together. “I know Mom told you about Vivi. It’s just I miss her so much and I’m messing up. At school, with my friends, life.”
“Jess. You’re old enough now for me to tell you this is normal. What you are feeling, the pain, confusion, even anger. All normal stages of grief. And you’ve got compounded grief. Which challenges your coping mechanisms. Tell me how you’re coping.”
I blurt it out. “I just texted a strange girl who told a mutual friend that she thinks I’m cute. I don’t know why I did that. It’s making me hyperventilate that I did that. I can’t start talking to another girl already, it hasn’t even been a month since Vivi died.”
“I think that’s a positive thing.”
“You do?” I stare at my face in the mirror, my surprised expression stuck in wide-eyed mode.
“Yes,” Samantha says. “It’s important for you to continue to live. There is no timeline for grief. And there’s nothing wrong with talking to a strange girl. I think people come into our lives at moments when we need them. Don’t attach values to this new friendship. Just take it for whatever it is. Whatever it may have to teach you. Nothing you do now has any bearing on the very real love you felt for Vivi.”
There’s a silent pause that’s not uncomfortable. I’m thinking, she’s waiting.
“Do you believe in heaven?” I ask.
“What do you believe?” Samantha volleys in classic therapist turn-it-back-on-the-patient mode.
“I hope it’s real. I mean, I don’t really think there’s some dude and pearly gates and angels with harps riding around on fluffy clouds. But maybe it’s more like our essence, soul, whatever, is energy and when we die it gets released into a bigger world. Has to be some other dimension, right? Otherwise this life would be pointless.”
“Tell me more about life being pointless.”
I sigh. “I’m not thinking my life is pointless if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just happier with the thought that Vivi is out there somewhere. That she’s guiding me. Like the way I feel about my dad. I even like to think maybe they’re hanging out together sometimes. That there’s more beyond our physical beings.”
I hear Samantha’s smile in her voice. “That’s a beautiful image, Jess. One you should hang on to. And hey . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It probably is too soon for any kind of lasting relationship, but there’s nothing wrong with new friendships. And this is a very cliché thing for me to say, but Vivi would want you to keep living all of life’s complexities. Speaking of which, how’s the artwork going?”
Talking to Samantha about my artwork is complicated. How do you tell the person who suggested you draw in the first place that your pens drip poison? Especially when they’re your former therapist. Especially when they might try to reason you back into something that you’re nowhere near ready to be reasoned into. I bow out. “Um, listen, thanks for taking my call, but they’re calling for me to come to the room. I’m at my VA therapy. Have to go.”
She buys it and when I hang up, I take a last look at myself in the mirror. The face is calmer, probably won’t scare children, but I still think about ditching. I wish I could go to the lake. Maybe there I’d be able to talk to Vivi, feel her presence, know how the heck I’m supposed to live life in all of its complexities.
There’s a knock on the door and a tiny voice. “Jess?”
I open it and Darla looks first at my hand holding her rock, then up at me. “It’s time for us to start.” She holds out her hand. I take a deep breath, grab it, and let her walk me down the hall.
29
Then: Eagles Mate for Life
It wasn’t hard to convince Vivi to ditch school for our anniversary. I’d simply taken her hand as we’d walked toward the school and whispered, “Come on, I have an idea” before leading her away for the day. But it was way harder to convince Nina to give us a ride out to the lake house.
“You’re where?”
“At the Circle K four blocks from school. Come on, Nina. It’s a special day. Please.”
Vivi looked around. Her eyes darted toward every car that pulled in and she flinched at every door chime. She whispered, “Maybe we should go back. We’re going to get in trouble.”
I held up one finger and kept begging Nina. “I swear, I’ll totally cover for you if you want to sneak out with Enrique.”
“I’m dating Javier now. But fine, I’ll pocket this favor.”
My sister showed up about six minutes later, which gave me enough time to buy an anniversary feast of beef jerky, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Sour Patch gummies, a package of powdered sugar mini-donuts, bottled water, and two convenience store cappuccinos. Vivi threw a package of spearmint gum onto the pile. She nudged me. “A feast.”
“For a queen.” I glanced sideways at her and tried to hide the hopeful smirk but she saw it all the same.
When we’d stepped away from the cashier she whispered, “We talked about this, remember?”
“I know. I know.” But a girl, who was wildly attracted to her girlfriend of a year, couldn’t help but wishing.
I let Vivi ride up front with Nina so she could give directions. When we pulled down the long gravel drive to the lake house, Nina whistled. “Damn, this is awesome. Maybe I could hang out with you guys and go swimming?”
My no was instantaneous. Vivi’s was guiltier but there all the same. “Maybe another time?” she said. “Or when you come to pick us up?”
Nina turned around and stared at me. “Do we need to have ‘the talk’? Is that what this skipping school is about?”
“Oh my god. Would you stop?” But even though the last thing in the world I wanted was my straight sister to give me any kind of sex talk, there was a part of me that hoped maybe Vivi would change her mind. Of course, I wouldn’t pressure, but if she gave me the green light . . . I was all in.
When Nina drove away, Vivi smiled at me, the plastic convenience store bag swinging against her t
highs as she rocked back and forth. “So . . .”
“Our anniversary,” I said.
“A whole year.”
“Amazing.”
“You want to swim?”
It was a blazing hot, Indian summer day and I hoped before it was over we’d jump in the lake. I also kind of hoped maybe nobody would be around and we could do it sans suits. But I had something else on the agenda first. I’d learned about a pair of bald eagles building a nest along the lake and wanted to find them to show Vivi.
“Eventually.”
“I’m melting.”
“What if I told you there was a report of a pair of nesting bald eagles on the lake?”
“Shut up.”
“It’s true. I saw it on the news and I think they’re only a few coves over. Are you up for a hike?”
Vivi closed in for a hug. “Here I was thinking you were going to try to convince me to have sex with you and instead you brought me out here for eagles. Now I know you love me.”
Okay, so this made me feel the tiniest bit guilty, but I’d grab on to the glory if she was giving it to me.
She pulled the spare key out from a crevice between two rocks. “Let’s put our feast inside. We just have to be sure to put everything back exactly like we found it so my sweet Henri and Abigail don’t suspect we’ve been out here without their permission.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
Twenty minutes later, we were chugging the water and I was questioning the sanity of looking for an eagle’s nest that could be anywhere. My internal GPS was not so great, and traipsing across people’s properties and traversing the woods was getting kind of old. Plus, it had to be one hundred degrees in the shade.
“Maybe we should go back. It’s ridiculous out here.”
Vivi scowled. “Quit complaining. I swear they have to be over in the next cove. It’s quiet and there are really tall trees and you will be as excited as I am when we find them. Besides you’re the one who came up with this idea.”
The Meaning of Birds Page 14
