After

by Kristin Harmel

  “You told him about the meeting?” Mindy asked in a soft voice.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I left him a message. He hasn’t called back.”

  I looked up, expecting to see judgment or pity on their faces. After all, they knew Sam and I were going out, and now he wasn’t even replying to me. But they only looked concerned. “Well, it’s not really the same without all of us here,” Kelsi said. “When you talk to him, tell him we missed him today, okay?”

  Kelsi and Mindy partnered up after a few minutes, and, holding each other’s hands and giggling, they picked their way around the rink. I stopped and just watched them. Before I’d put this group together, they’d hardly known each other. And here they were, laughing on a Tuesday afternoon, just weeks after Kelsi’s mom had died, when she might otherwise have been at home, wallowing in grief.

  Logan and Sydney made their way a little more quickly. It looked like Sydney was leading Logan, who was a bit slower, dragging him by the hand and chiding him when he couldn’t keep up. Still, he appeared content.

  Cody was off in his own world, whizzing across the ice like he was on the Olympic speed skating team. Each time he passed, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were focused straight ahead. I wondered if he was doing more than exercising; it looked like he might have been getting something out of his system.

  I skated alone, and it gave me time to think about Sam—and about my dad. The anniversary of the accident was fast approaching, and it seemed like I should be in a different place. I knew that what I had done with setting up this club was good; it seemed to be helping. And I knew that was something I had to do: help other people come to terms with a parent’s death, like I had. But still, the emptiness loomed inside of me, big and cold. I’d never felt so lonely.

  While the rink was cleared temporarily for the ice to be Zambonied, I sat down and closed my eyes. No one was paying attention to me. Kelsi and Mindy were talking about some sophomore guy Mindy liked. Logan and Sydney were cooing at each other in the corner—I was afraid they were going to start making out any minute. Cody had disappeared to the other side of the rink, where he apparently knew three girls in skating outfits.

  And for the first time in ages, I heard Tanner’s voice loud and clear for more than a few words at a stretch as he talked to Sarah.

  “What happened?” I heard him ask. I strained to hear, feeling a little bad that I was eavesdropping.

  “My dad was in the military, in Iraq, you know, which is really far away, and we couldn’t see him very often because his job was dangerous and he had to be gone for a long time,” Sarah was saying, speaking at the speed of light. I glanced over and was surprised to see my little brother staring at her with rapt interest. “I was always scared that something would happen to my dad, because I heard about Army guys getting hurt, and he always told me not to worry because he’d be here forever, so I tried not to worry. But he was supposed to come home on March sixteenth, and it was March ninth, and I was really excited and I was making him a big picture of our house so he could see what everything looked like while he was gone, and I was outside doing the drawing, and two military men pulled up in the driveway.”

  “Military men?” Tanner repeated.

  “Yeah, they were wearing really fancy uniforms with lots of ribbons and stuff, and I think they were really important,” Sarah babbled on. “And they called me ‘little girl,’ even though I’m not that little, and they looked really serious, and they asked if my mom was home, and I said yeah, and I asked what they wanted, and they wouldn’t tell me, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I ran and got my mom, and they whispered something to her and then she just started crying. I didn’t know what to do because I’d never seen her cry before, and she fell down on the driveway, and they didn’t know what to do either; they just stood there looking down at her and saying it would be okay, and they could help her.”

  “Oh,” Tanner said softly.

  Sarah went on. “I went and got Cody, I don’t even remember what I said, but I think I was screaming really loud, and he came out of the house and bent over and hugged my mom, and he asked the military men what was wrong, and they told him that my dad had died, I heard them tell him that, and then he started crying too, and I started screaming again, because I didn’t know what else to do, and I wanted to ask them if my dad was in heaven, and I wanted to ask my mom that too, but she was crying, and the military men looked mean, and I didn’t know what they’d say, and besides, they were treating me like a baby.”

  Tanner was quiet for a minute, and my heart sank for Sarah. She had opened up to him the way I had to Sam, and my brother wasn’t going to answer her, simply because he couldn’t.

  But then, my brother spoke, which surprised me so much that I nearly fell over. “I believe in heaven,” he said quietly. “I know your dad has to be there. Because he was doing the right thing when he died.”

  I heard Sarah sniffle a little. “You think?” she ventured.

  I was afraid Tanner wouldn’t answer. Then he said,

  “Yeah.”

  They sat there in silence for a moment, and when I was pretty sure that the conversation was finally over, I peeked my head around a chair to take a look at them. Perhaps Tanner, having spoken his entire word quota for the past three months, had gotten up and left, or spontaneously combusted from the mental exertion.

  Instead, they were sitting side by side in companionable silence, staring out at the Zamboni making its slow loops around the rink, smoothing the surface of the roughed-up ice. I waited for Sarah to say something more—affter all, she seemed to be overflowing with words—but she didn’t seem to have anything else to say. After a minute, she put her head on my brother’s shoulder. He paused and then put an arm around her shoulders. From the back, they looked like miniature adults. I could hardly believe it was my little brother, the one who hid in his room, watching TV and obsessing over animals.

  Maybe, I thought, he was better off than I’d given him credit for. Maybe he’d get better with or without my help and concern. Maybe I was wasting my time fearing for his mental health.

  Maybe he didn’t need me at all.

  chapter 18

  By Friday, Sam still hadn’t shown up at school. He wasn’t calling me back either, and I was really worried. There was still a part of me that was scared it had to do with me, but I reassured myself that no one in his right mind would skip school for five days because of a girl. I’d e-mailed him twice more, but I’d gotten no reply. I was starting to feel like a stalker.

  After school, I caught a ride with Jennica and asked if she’d mind dropping me off at Lucky Strikes. “Sure, but I can’t stay and drive you home,” she said. “Anne has dance practice, and I have to take her. My mom’s having a spa day, so I’m stuck babysitting.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis. “Why are you going there anyhow?”

  “Just meeting the group,” I lied. I knew I should tell her that I was looking for Sam, but I didn’t want to feel any more pathetic than I already did.

  Five minutes later, I was standing in front of Lucky Strikes, staring at the door and wondering if this was stupid. I took a deep breath and walked in.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the alley, but when they did, I spotted Donna seated behind the cash register, reading a paperback James Patterson novel. She was so absorbed in the book that she didn’t even look up until I was standing right in front of her. I had to clear my throat to get her attention.

  “Oh, Lacey!” she exclaimed. She peered at me. “Hi! How are you?”

  I shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed to be there.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “Um, I was just wondering if Sam is around.”

  I felt stupid the moment the words were out of my mouth.

  Donna looked confused. “Sam?” she said. “No, Lacey. He’s at the hospital.”

  My heart caught in my throat. “The hospital?” I croaked. “What happened? Is he okay?”

  Guilt
flooded through me.

  Donna was looking at me more closely now. “You don’t know?” she asked.

  “Know what?” I demanded. I felt like I was on the verge of panicking.

  She studied me while my heart pounded double time. It looked like she was trying to decide whether to tell me or not.

  “Please, just tell me if Sam’s okay,” I pleaded. I didn’t think I could handle it if something happened to someone else I cared about. In an instant, all the awful things that could have happened to Sam flashed through my head. And for some reason, my mind got immediately stuck on Sam in a car crash. A cold chill ran through me.

  “Sam’s fine,” she said.

  Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by conffusion. “Why’s he at the hospital, then?”

  She put down her book. “It’s his dad, Lacey.”

  “His dad?” I repeated. What was she talking about? Hadn’t he died months ago?

  “He woke up,” Donna said softly.

  My jaw dropped. “Woke up? But … he’s dead.”

  Now it was Donna’s turn to look confused. “Dead?” she repeated. “Where did you get that idea?”

  A feeling began to creep through my veins like ice. Every conversation I’d ever had with Sam began to replay itself in my mind. Is this what he had wanted to tell me? But even if it was, how could he let me go on believing something so huge when it had been a lie all along?

  “He’s not dead?” I whispered. Donna shook her head. “But Sam said he had a stroke.”

  Donna nodded. “He did. He’s been in a coma since July. They moved him to Plymouth Regional Hospital in September. That’s why Sam and his mom moved here.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. She must have thought I was totally crazy, but I couldn’t help repeating, “You’re telling me he’s alive?”

  “Yes. And he woke up on Sunday night. The doctors are calling it a miracle. Sam and Joey and their mom have been at his bedside since then.”

  I stared at her. I couldn’t form words. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Lacey?” she asked. Her face radiated concern. “Are you all right, honey?”

  “Um” was all I could manage. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

  I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I slowly backed away from her and out of the bowling alley. It wasn’t until I was outside, in the crisp fall afternoon air, that I realized I didn’t have a ride home. Numbly, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me and I couldn’t quite catch my breath, I began walking toward my house.

  • • •

  By the time I walked up my own driveway I didn’t feel any better. I knew I should be happy for Sam that he’d gotten his father back. Wouldn’t I have given anything in the world to hear the same kind of news about my dad? But the fact was, I never would hear that news; my father was gone for good.

  I’d believed the same about Sam’s dad. Sam had made me believe the same about his dad. And that’s why I’d trusted him with my feelings, my secrets. That’s why I’d believed, in the very depth of my soul, that he understood me. But the truth was, he didn’t know any more about how I felt than Jennica or Dr. Schiff or any of the kids at school who lived in their perfect homes with their perfectly complete families.

  I began to replay in my head every conversation I’d ever had with Sam. He’d never directly lied, I couldn’t actually remember the words “My dad died” coming out of his mouth. But from the day he showed up at our first meeting, saying that he’d lost his dad, I had trusted him and had assumed that he’d meant his dad was no longer alive. Why would I think anything different? But just because he hadn’t blatantly lied didn’t make the betrayal any less serious. He knew what he’d led us to believe. He knew what he’d led me to believe. And it hadn’t mattered.

  Why had he done it? Had he been that desperate to fit in with us? Sam didn’t seem to care about being popular, and it wasn’t even like we were a popular group. Besides, who in their right minds would fake a parental death to become part of a clique? No, it went deeper than that. I had no doubt that losing your dad to a coma was really hard. And I was sure that to some extent, Sam had understood us and identified with us. But the fundamental difference was that his dad had woken up. Mindy, Kelsi, Cody, Logan, and I would never have that experience. We couldn’t. And for Sam to think it was okay to trick us in this way made me feel sick.

  The sky darkened as I walked home, and as I reached my front door, the first fat raindrops of an approaching storm began to fall, splashing on the driveway and pinging off the roof of the house. I put my key in the lock and closed my eyes before turning it, steadying myself.

  I would never let anyone in again. I couldn’t trust anyone. The world around me had crumbled, and once again, it was still me, only me, standing there on my own.

  I should have known better.

  • • •

  Mom was home from work early again, standing in the kitchen and absentmindedly beating something in a big bowl, when I walked in.

  She smiled. “Hi, honey.”

  I raised a hand to wave without a word. I didn’t feel like talking to her. Or anyone else. Sam’s betrayal had been the final straw.

  “Sam called,” Mom said. She wiped her hands on her apron and crossed over to the notepad that we kept by the kitchen phone. “He left a number and an extension and asked that you call him back as soon as possible. He said he tried your cell, but it went straight to voice mail.”

  I gazed at her in disbelief. Now he had called? After I’d been trying to reach him all week? Donna had probably called him and told him what had happened.

  “Lacey?” Mom asked. “Don’t you want the number?”

  I glanced at the pad of paper and then back at her. “No.”

  She shrugged. “Well. I’m just about to put a soufflé in the oven,” she said, turning away from me and returning to the hand beater. “I thought I’d try something new for dinner.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. Mom used to love to cook—she subscribed to Bon Appétit and Food & Wine and a few other cooking magazines—and before the accident, she would try something new and exotic at least once a week.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I think I need to stop.”

  “Stop what?” I asked.

  She looked down at the bowl. “Stop wallowing. Logan was right the other day.”

  The rain had started to fall harder now, and the fat droplets had given way to an insistent waterfall that made it look fuzzy and almost dreamlike outside.

  “I’ve been awful,” she added, gazing out the kitchen window. “I’ve really failed you kids.”

  “No, you haven’t,” I said. It felt like the right thing to say, but I realized, after the words were out of my mouth, that I meant it.

  “Yes, I have,” she said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s been almost a year, Lacey. A year of our lives that I’ve lost. Your father wouldn’t have wanted it this way.”

  “I think he would have understood, Mom.”

  “Understood what?”

  “Understood that we all needed to figure out things in our own time.”

  Mom blinked a few times. “Maybe it’s time to start living again.”

  As I walked slowly out of the kitchen, I thought about the last thing she had said. At least we had the luxury to start living again. Logan and Tanner and Mom and I, Sam and his mom, even Sam’s dad, could start over at any time. It made me even sadder to think about it in those terms. Because it seemed unfair, like a betrayal of Dad, to be able to just reinvent ourselves any day, didn’t it? We’d all have a thousand—a million—second chances. Dad wouldn’t even have one.

  • • •

  When I checked my e-mail before going to bed that night, there was one new message waiting for me in my in-box. It was from Sam.

  Lacey,

  I don’t even know how to begin. I know you feel like I lied to you. And I don’t blame you. But I didn’t do it on purpose.
I heard about the group you were starting, and I didn’t know until the end of the first meeting that it was only for people whose parents had actually died. But by that time, I felt so much better just being there. I know you might not understand, but it felt like my dad had died, just like yours. He wasn’t supposed to wake up, ever, and in a way, I felt sometimes like it would have been better if he did just die, because then we could at least have a funeral and say a real goodbye and everything.

  I was with my dad when he had the stroke. The doctors said he would never regain consciousness. And then, Sunday night, we got a call from the hospital. The nurse on duty had noticed the call light from his room was on. She went in to check on him, figuring it was a mistake, and he was sitting up in bed, looking confused. He didn’t know where he was. They called the doc and then they called us. My mom hasn’t wanted to leave his side since then. We’ve been sleeping at the hospital. She keeps saying it’s our second chance.

  I know you’re mad at me. I tried to tell you, but I guess I didn’t try hard enough. I was scared about how you’d react. I thought you wouldn’t believe anymore that I knew how you felt. But I do. I’m sorry. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. But I never meant to hurt you. And it doesn’t take away the fact that I do understand you. Please call me.

  Sam

  I read the e-mail three times before closing the screen. My finger hovered over the Delete key, but finally, I hit Save instead.

  I understood what he was saying. But that didn’t make his actions easier to understand. Or to forgive.

  chapter 19

  I tried to talk to Dr. Schiff about Sam on Saturday during my half-hour session with her. She told me I needed to stop holding other people to an unrealistic standard. I’d asked her what was so unrealistic about expecting someone to be honest. I called Jennica and filled her in on everything, and she was totally sympathetic. “I’m beginning to think that all guys are more trouble than they’re worth,” she told me. I wasn’t sure I agreed with her, though. No matter how mad I was at Sam.