by Lizzy Mason
She was somehow perfectly pulled together and appropriately dressed—if there was an appropriate outfit for visiting your comatose daughter in the hospital. For Mom, it was white linen shorts, a sleeveless button-down shirt in pale pink, and dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail. She could have been going to play tennis later. Except I could see that her mascara was smudged from tears. She had no doubt cried privately in the car before coming inside.
Mom hadn’t let her careful veneer crack in front of Dad or me since the first night at the hospital. Not that it really mattered when it came to Dad. He had basically disappeared since the accident. He would stop by Audrey’s room because he was at the hospital, of course—but never for longer than five minutes at a time. He had always worked long hours—now he worked late every night. Though we weren’t gathering at the table for dinner anyway.
“Have you showered lately?” Mom asked.
I shook my head. I could feel the weight of my greasy ponytail. She had a point.
“Or eaten?”
My stomach rumbled at the suggestion, even though I’d been steadily clearing out the vending machine down the hall all day. I stood up.
“You’ll be here for a while?” I asked.
Mom nodded.
“Okay. Don’t leave until I come back.”
I took her silence as a complicit “yes.” She was already propping Audrey up so she could brush her hair. The ministrations would take a while.
“Drive carefully,” she said, her eyes focused on her task. An afterthought.
My chest tightened. I couldn’t help walking over to Mom and wrapping my arms around her.
“Oh, baby duck,” she said into my dirty hair. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom,” I said. And then, after a moment I added, “She’ll be okay.”
Mom nodded and withdrew, gently steering me toward the door. I got the hint. I was a mess. And smelly. But I wanted to leave, anyway. I was looking forward to smoking a cigarette on the drive home with the windows rolled down.
As I turned down our street, I wondered if Raf was home. If he’d want to join me. I never would have imagined the two of us would become smokers.
He was so much the same kid as he was ten years ago—he had the same mischievous glint to his eye and the same smile that tilted a little lower on the right side—but he was so much more mature. I mean, of course he was, he was eighteen not eight, but he was kind of sexy now.
As soon as the thought occurred to me, I hated myself for it.
I hadn’t even broken up with Mike yet. And he hadn’t stopped trying to reach me, even going so far as to call the house phone. But Mom always screened his calls. She hadn’t even had to ask.
The next morning—showered and changed, if not well-rested—I was parked in my usual spot in the chair next to Audrey’s bed when Cassidy pushed the door open. Her eyes were searching and wide with hope. But I shook my head and her face fell. Audrey was the same as she’d been the day before. The only change was that the swelling in her eyes had subsided and she was starting to look like herself again.
Cassidy sat down in the chair across the bed and kicked off her flip-flops, putting her feet up on the bed next to Audrey’s legs. She tucked a stray blonde curl into her messy bun.
“How are you, Harley?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Same,” I said. “You?”
She looked surprised that I remembered to ask. “I’m okay,” she said. But her lips were pulled into a tight frown.
Cassidy, who had been the junior class vice president, got chewed out by the school administration for hosting a party with alcohol and without chaperones. She told me that the school was embarrassed by the “incident.” The headmaster even left a message at our house. Mom erased it before I could listen, but she said he sounded upset. At least he and the rest of the faculty sent flowers to Audrey’s hospital room. If this had happened during the school year, they would have been obligated to hold an assembly about drunk driving and offer counseling to students. They got off light, I think. And so had Cassidy. She might have been suspended—or worse—if school was in session. Unfortunately for Cassidy, her parents had taken over, and she was grounded for the foreseeable future. I knew she was allowed to drive to work, though. She must have left a little early to come here and see me . . . to see us.
I was surprised that I hadn’t been grounded myself. I’d lied to Mom and Dad, a lie of omission anyway, since they weren’t aware that Cassidy’s parents weren’t home during the party. But I guess they had bigger things to worry about. I had basically grounded myself anyway, tying myself to Audrey’s bedside.
“Does anyone know about Mike and Audrey?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No one knows why he was driving her home. They just assume you asked him to.”
I nodded, relieved. I would much prefer that my friends and classmates blamed me than Audrey.
“So, um, speaking of Mike,” Cassidy said, “he stopped by the coffee shop yesterday.”
My eyes snapped up to her face. If he’d somehow found a way to hurt her or get between us, I would make him regret it. I’d march to his house and confront him at last. In front of his mom. Maybe steal his issue of The New Mutants #98. That would really piss him off.
“It’s okay,” Cassidy said, assuring me, “he just wanted me to ask you to call him. I didn’t make him any promises.”
“He shouldn’t be asking favors from you,” I said.
“The police charged him,” she said, as if that were an explanation. “With a DUI and reckless driving to start with, so he’ll lose his license.”
Good. He deserved worse.
“What else did he say?” I asked.
Her lips were tight, as if she were keeping a secret.
“He’s sorry,” she said. “He just wanted you to know that.”
“Why are you even relaying his messages?” I demanded, trying to shake off the flare of anger at Mike’s apology. “You hate Mike. You wanted me to dump him over a year ago.”
“I still do,” she said defensively. “I’m not protecting him or advocating for him. I’m just the messenger.” Her eyes were wide, innocent. And tired. The shadows under her eyes had only grown darker over the last few days. “And maybe I feel like you should just talk to him. Just once, to break up with him for good, and then I can stop deleting messages from your phone for you.”
I sighed. “Fine.” I pulled my phone from my bag and opened the string of unanswered text messages he’d sent since I last had Cassidy do a purge. I didn’t read them; I simply wrote: I’m coming over.
I fumed all the way to Mike’s house. My knuckles were stiff from squeezing the steering wheel. How dare he use Cassidy to get to me? My rage was at fever pitch when I pulled up in front of the town house, parking in the visitor’s spot that I had always thought of as mine. Not anymore. A moment later, I was banging on the door.
Mike’s mom opened it.
I hadn’t been expecting her. Her nose and eyes were red, and her hair, normally cut into a tidy bob, was frizzy and mussed, as if she’d been running her fingers through it. Ms. Baker reached out for me, and I flinched away instinctively.
“Hi, Ms. Baker,” I said.
“Oh, honey,” she said. Her face crumpled.
I felt a little guilty that I couldn’t be more sympathetic toward her. She worked hard and raised her son by herself, deliberately. She had gone to a sperm bank after breaking up with her girlfriend of ten years who hadn’t wanted children. She told me it wasn’t revenge; it was that she had finally decided she would rather have a child than a partner, if that was the choice she had to make. And as a result, she had doted on Mike, indulging his every desire. And maybe expecting a little too much from him, pinning her happiness on his.
“I’m so sorry,” Ms. Baker said. Her voice tre
mbled.
I stepped closer and let her pat my arm. That was the best I could do.
“Thank you,” I managed to say. “It’s been a tough few days.”
“It hasn’t been easy for Michael, either,” she said.
Now I wanted to scream. He couldn’t even begin to know what I was feeling. But she was already crying again, so I bit my tongue.
“Is he here?” I asked, even though I knew he was.
Ms. Baker stepped back into the hallway to allow me to enter. “He’s in his room. I’ve barely let him out except to use the bathroom and meet with our lawyer since Sunday.”
I took a deep breath before climbing the stairs. Mike must have heard us because he was waiting for me in his bedroom doorway. His round face was in shadow, but I could see the dark bruise under his left eye. His hair was matted.
I stopped a few feet from him.
“Come inside,” he whispered. “Please? I don’t want to do this in the hallway with my mom listening downstairs.”
I didn’t especially care what he wanted, but I relented. I didn’t want his mom listening in, either.
His bedroom was cleaner than I’d ever seen it. I guess he’d had time on his hands.
Mike sat on his bed while I hovered near the dresser across the room. I could see now that the shadows under his eyes weren’t all bruises; his skin was dotted with acne. He was wearing a wrinkled lacrosse tournament T-shirt and mesh shorts. His socks were nearly falling off his feet.
“Just in case it’s not clear,” I said, “we’re done. We’re broken up.”
“This wasn’t—”
My glare stopped him.
He shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
“I heard.”
“Harley, I never wanted to hurt you.” His voice was weak. His eyes were red-rimmed.
“I don’t really care,” I said, before he could go on. “You could have killed my sister. She might never wake up and—” My voice caught in my throat. I put my hands up. “Stop calling me, stop texting me, stop reaching out to my friends. Just stop.”
I turned to walk away.
“I’m going to rehab,” he called after me. “For thirty days.”
That stopped me.
“Good,” I said, my eyes on the hallway carpet. “I hope it helps you realize what an ass you are.”
I paused. I hated that I still felt sympathy for him. But I had lived my life around him, about him, for him, for so long. Seeing him so miserable was jarring.
“How much trouble are you in?” I asked.
“A lot,” he said. “The rehab is court-mandated. It was that or thirty days in juvie. And I have to do community service. And my license is suspended.”
And there it was: the familiar disappointment. I spun to face him. “I was hoping you’d actually made the choice to go to rehab on your own,” I said.
“I’m not an alcoholic,” he said. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. “I’m seventeen. How could I be?”
I shrugged. “I’m not saying you are, but I don’t think there’s an age restriction on being an alcoholic,” I said. Audrey once told me that Drew Barrymore believes she was an alcoholic and an addict by the time she was twelve. She’s been sober since she was a teenager. So clearly it’s possible. “And I hope you quit drinking anyway, since you could have killed yourself and two other people.”
“Do you think I don’t hate myself for that?” Mike said. His voice was suddenly loud.
I took a step back.
“Not enough,” I said.
He scowled. “My life is over, Harley,” he said, quieter. “I lost my spot on the basketball and lacrosse teams, my friends aren’t allowed to talk to me, and now my girlfriend is dumping me. That’s not enough for you?”
“No,” I said. “You deserve to be where Audrey is.”
I left before he could reply. I ran down the hall, past his mom, who was listening at the bottom of the stairs, and out the door to my car. I had planned how I’d break up with Mike so many times, even before he’d cheated on me with Audrey. I hadn’t ever imagined it would be like this. I should have expected that Mike would once again make everything about Mike.
But at least it was over.
One Week Ago
I was hiding from Cassidy’s party, or I had been when I first escaped outside. Because I couldn’t feel out of place if I wasn’t in the place at all. But then I got caught up in an argument with a stranger on Twitter about what should happen in the next Marvel movie, and I finally started enjoying myself.
I didn’t even notice Mike—not until he eased down behind me, wrapping his arms around my middle and kissing the side of my neck.
“Ugh, gross,” he said, backhanding my sweat from his lips.
I leaned against him and rubbed my neck against his face. He scooted out of reach.
“Serves you right,” I said. “Who tries to cuddle in a heat wave?”
“Can you blame me?” he said. “This party is boring and you’re my favorite distraction.”
“You’re cute,” I said. “But it’s too hot. And I want to go home, where my air-conditioned bedroom is waiting.” I sighed heavily. Dramatically. “But I’m here for Cassidy, so I’m going to stay. For a while at least.”
“You wouldn’t stay for me?” Mike said and pushed his full lips into a pout.
I shook my head. “Nope. But when I’ve known you for ten years, you can take precedence every now and then.”
Mike rolled his eyes as he pushed up to his knees. He took a few extra seconds to steady himself, which is how I knew how many drinks he’d had. Somewhere around four. Wobbly, but not wasted.
He scoffed as he walked away, as if surprised that I wasn’t stopping him. Or joining him. He should have been used to it by now, but he always seemed to hold on to the hope that I would suddenly transform into the type of person who’d join him when he played beer pong or flip cup. And he always expected me to jump at the chance to apologize when I didn’t.
I picked up the plastic cup of beer he’d left behind for me and poured its contents over the side into the grass below. I was already planning my escape from the party, which meant driving and seeing my parents, neither of which I wanted to do drunk.
Unlike Mike, I actually cared about things like that.
I just hadn’t realized I was steering him into the arms of my little sister. I wished I’d known to enjoy those last few minutes of ignorance.
Chapter Five
That evening I went back to the hospital and put on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Partly because I couldn’t seem to keep my mind off Mike and wanted to fantasize about removing him from my memory entirely. But also because I kept imagining Audrey lying there with her eyes closed, unable to move, but able to hear every single word that anyone said. Or didn’t say.
It was so quiet most of the time. She’d be so bored. And Audrey hated being bored. She was always asking me to do stuff with her, watch TV or a movie, play video games, go shopping. I snapped at her constantly, especially when she interrupted me while I was reading or hanging out with Cassidy.
By the end of the movie, I was crying. Again. Which Audrey would have loved. Well, mostly she would have been shocked that I was able to sit through it. But the fact that it had moved me to tears would have made her howl with delight.
I’d gotten myself together by the time Dad stopped by the room. I had moved on to Breakfast at Tiffany’s, one of Audrey’s favorites. She loved Audrey Hepburn even more than she loved Drew Barrymore. She’d even dressed as Holly Golightly for Halloween last fall. With her dark hair, pale skin, and lithe body, it was impossible not to see the resemblance.
“You should watch The African Queen,” Dad said after watching over my shoulder for a minute. “Katharine Hepburn had something Audrey never did:
range. I’ve been telling Audrey that for years.”
I reached over my shoulder to grab his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll watch it with her when she wakes up,” I said.
He squeezed my hand back and then silently left the room, closing the door behind him.
I sat on the driveway that night, the pavement still warm from the heat of the day. I’d finished a cigarette a few minutes before, but I couldn’t go back inside yet. I smelled like smoke and Mom was still awake.
I looked up as Raf’s Jeep Wrangler pulled around the cul-de-sac. He waved through the window. I didn’t get up, but he walked toward me instead of going inside. Floyd’s tail thumped loudly on the ground and he let out a little whine of anticipation.
“Well, get up and go to him, if you’re that excited,” I said, shoving Floyd in the side. He stood slowly, giving Raf an open-mouthed doggy grin. Raf reached out for Floyd’s ears.
“You’re a good boy,” Raf cooed.
Floyd could stand it no longer. He stood on his hind legs, pressing against Raf’s chest, until Raf collapsed on the grass next to him. Floyd stuck his nose in Raf’s face, licking his chin and neck, his ears and eyes. Raf cracked up, loving every second of it.
“Would you two like some privacy?” I said after a minute.
Raf gave Floyd’s ears one more rub, then stood, brushing grass from the back of his jeans.
“Give me a break,” he said. “Floyd and I haven’t seen each other for a while. We had some catching up to do.”
This was true. When we were younger, before Audrey took over dog-walking duties, I used to take Floyd out after school. When Raf was outside playing basketball in his driveway, Floyd would start barking the minute he heard the ball bouncing. I’d get him outside, and he and Raf would run to each other like long-lost lovers. It would take me five minutes to break them up.
“Well, I hope you got it out of your system,” I said, “because he’s coming home with me.” Raf’s mom was allergic to dogs, so Floyd wasn’t even allowed on the front porch.
“So, nice night to sit on hot asphalt and sweat,” Raf said, easing down beside me and crossing his legs at the ankles. He leaned back on his elbows and gazed up at the sprinkling of stars in the sky. Floyd nudged his way between us and lay down with a heavy sigh.
