I finish my beer and set it down beside me. Caleb hands me another one. I don’t want to get drunk, but I want to get drunk. I want to pass out cold and wake up in some other universe. One where my dad is holding a huge mug of coffee and scrambling eggs on a Sunday morning, my mom is asking him for the millionth time if he’d please fix the stair that creaks, and Anna is at the kitchen table, completely lost in a new box of crayons, drawing pictures of dolphins.
“I don’t know, Laney, to be honest. I mean, sometimes I think I’m doing okay. And then suddenly I’m not. I mean, how am I supposed to do this, live the whole rest of my life without a dad? Without my dad? Last night I started counting up all the things he’ll never see. My graduation. Me dancing Siegfried. Anna playing in the soccer tournament next week. He’ll never terrify her first boyfriend or walk her down the aisle when she gets married. It’s like a hundred million nevers stretching out in a long line in front of me, so far that I can’t see where it ends.”
Delaney says quietly, “None of us can even imagine what you’re feeling, Lucas, but we’re all here for you. We love you.”
“Thanks, Laney. But the truth is, nobody can help me, not really. I don’t mean to be a jerk about it, but I’m the only one who can figure out a way to do normal stuff like go to school and dance and help Anna with her homework, when the whole time it feels like something with sharp claws has reached down my throat and yanked out all my guts.”
“That sucks,” says Luis. “If you want to lose it right now, there’s no one here to see but us. If I were you, I’d be curled up on the floor like a pill bug, crying my face off.”
“That’s the weird thing. I can’t. It’s like I’m all dried up and empty, you know, like those cicada husks you see in the grass every summer? Sometimes I think maybe I’m going to lose it, and then I just … don’t. You know what our dentist said to me after the funeral?” I say. “Dr. Burch?”
“Oh man, dentists scare me so bad,” says Sam. “What did he say?”
“He said now I’m the man of the house. What does that even mean? My dad was the man of the house. He played football for the Citadel. He fought in the Gulf War way before I was born. I was so lucky to be his son. I mean, sure, I want to be like him someday, but I can’t just take over where he left off; it’s probably the lamest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
My voice cracks and I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in my throat.
“Lucas,” Sparrow says. “Nobody expects you to be your dad. It’s like my father told you. Dr. Burch just couldn’t think of anything else to say. Forget about him. And you’re already like your dad. Look what you did for me in the parking lot last month. You were a hero.”
I can’t let her go on thinking that. It’s a lie. I’m nobody’s hero.
“So, can I tell you guys something? Promise you won’t think I’m disgusting or weird or seriously twisted?”
Relief blooms all over their faces. Finally, something they can do. They jump at the chance.
Sparrow says quietly, “Lucas, you can tell us anything. Nothing will change.”
“Besides, we already think you’re disgusting and weird and seriously twisted,” Delaney adds. “How can it possibly get worse?”
“I don’t know, guys. I think maybe this is kind of bad.”
“Spill it,” Delaney orders.
I take a couple of shaky breaths and crack my neck.
Sparrow says, “Gross, Lucas.”
“I haven’t told this to anyone, so keep it to yourselves. I haven’t even told my mom, and I don’t plan to. Like, ever.”
“Dude,” says Sam. “You know you can trust us. Just spit it out, for God’s sake.”
“Okay. The last day, the day he died, we were all with him. My mom and Granny Deirdre, and Anna and me. Y’all know he was in the hospital, because he’d gotten an infection, right? We kept talking to each other like he was going to wake up any minute, like he’d recognize us and say something, something big that we could hold on to after he was gone. Like he saw a bright light at the end of a long tunnel, or his dead father showed up to bring him the rest of the way, you know, that kind of woo-woo stuff.”
I still can’t get the smell out of my nose. Bleach and bandages and coffee and blood. As long as I live, I’ll never be able to walk into another hospital, even if I’m the one who’s sick. There’s no way I could get past the front doors. I’d rather lie out on the sidewalk and die all by myself, looking up at the mountains.
Everyone is quiet, waiting for me to go on.
“It’s so strange, what I remember. My mom was wearing the diamond earrings Dad gave her for Christmas. They sparkled, even in those awful hospital lights, and I couldn’t stop looking at them. Anna had just announced she wasn’t going to talk to anyone ever again, and Granny Deirdre was humming ‘Danny Boy’ real softly, under her breath.”
Luis hands me another beer, and I take a long swallow. I feel dried out, like I’d crumble into little pieces and blow away if the wind rose.
“Anyway, my dad had been asleep for three days. He hadn’t opened his eyes once, in all that time. Don’t know if you ever noticed, but they’re green, the way the mountains look in the summer. My mom was holding one of his hands. Granny Deirdre was holding the other.” My voice cracks again. Another swig of beer.
“This next part is hard,” I whisper.
Sparrow says, “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Nobody tells you how quiet it is at the end. I thought he’d breathe out real noisy and his head would fall to the side. You know, the way people die in the movies. But it wasn’t like that. He breathed out once, and we waited and waited for him to breathe in, but there was nothing. He was gone. We’d never see them again, those eyes that always seemed to be laughing at something, remember? I got so scared, terrified that I’d already started forgetting things about him, things that were important.
“Anyway, his doctor came in and was real sweet to us. She said to take our time, to stay as long as we wanted. My mom thought it would be a good idea if we each said our goodbyes privately. When it was my turn, I walked over to the bed and took down the railing. I put my hand on his head; he’d lost every single bit of his hair, even his eyebrows and eyelashes. His skin was warm, and it felt like he was still there, still with us. I kissed him on the forehead, and I said, ‘Dad, come back. Please come back.’ But of course he didn’t.”
I feel sick, like I have a fever, like everything in the world is upside down.
“Then—then—damn. Hang on. This is the bad part.”
Another lump in my throat, another long swallow of beer.
“I know how awful this sounds. I—I lifted up one of his eyelids. Because I couldn’t stand to think I’d forget the color of my father’s eyes. That’s totally sick, right?”
Delaney is crying so hard she sounds like she’s choking. Sparrow’s shoulders are heaving. Caleb and Luis wipe their eyes. Israel and Sam are looking down at their shoes.
“No, Lucas,” Delaney says, her voice thick with tears. “It’s not sick, not at all. It’s actually kind of beautiful. Now you’ll always remember. You were right to do it.”
Just then my granny Deirdre opens the porch door and stands on the top step. She’s holding a nearly empty glass of white wine.
“Do you young people mind if I come out and sit with you?” she says in her Irish brogue.
“No, no, Granny,” I say. “We don’t mind at all. Come on out here.”
Israel, who’s closest to the door, leaps up and offers her his arm, escorting her gently down the stairs, like she’s made of glass. Caleb pulls up another chair, and Delaney and I move to make room between us. When Granny is settled in, she says, “I’d much rather be here with you than in there trying to talk to people I don’t know. They all want to tell me stories about Liam, and I couldn’t listen for another minute.”
“That’s why we’re all out here. Where’s Anna?” I ask.
“She’s on your moth
er’s lap, asleep. She won’t let anyone carry her up to bed.”
She swallows the last sip of her wine. Delaney takes the glass from her and puts it on the picnic table behind us.
Inside, my dad’s Marine buddies have started singing “The Parting Glass.” They do it at every funeral, but there’s no way I can go inside. That song destroys me on a good day.
My granny reaches out to me and says, “Hold my hand, Lucas? Otherwise I think I might float right off this earth.” Delaney takes her other hand, then wordlessly reaches out to Sparrow, who reaches out to Sam, who grabs Israel’s hand, until we’re all linked together. If anybody had ever told me that I’d be sitting in a circle one day, holding hands with my friends and my grandmother, I would have laughed. But it’s not funny. Or stupid. It’s actually the only thing that’s felt right all day.
When the song is finished, Delaney looks up and says softly, “‘And, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night.’”
My grandmother looks up at the darkening sky. A few stars are sprinkled among the clouds. “Yes, he will,” she says. Tears are streaming down her soft, wrinkled cheeks. “Oh, Liam, my darling boy,” she whispers. “My sweet, sweet child.”
And there in the growing dark, holding my granny’s hand, with all my friends around me, I bow my head and cry.
12
Party, Fourth of July
I mean it, Savannah. You stay the hell away from him!
Standing on Delaney’s back deck, my hand on the doorknob, I can hear him, his voice low, the words slurred and running together. He’s completely hammered. And Sparrow is sobbing.
I slam the door open.
As long as I live, I’ll never get this picture out of my head. Sparrow on the floor, crying, pressed into a corner, trying to make herself invisible. Tristan standing over her with his fists clenched.
“You should have told me he’d be here,” he snarls. “First the necklace, then all that crap I saw in the studio, and now this? Acting like a slut as soon as my back is turned? You were all over him! You let him put his hands on you! Are you trying to piss me off? What do I have to do to get you to take me seriously, Savannah?”
Everything inside my eyes turns red, and my face gets hot. It’s official. I will destroy him.
I reach out and yank him off his feet, pulling him away from her. He stumbles and catches himself on the counter.
“Get away from her!”
Tristan straightens up, instantly sober, his face dark with rage. He jabs his finger into my chest. “Turn yourself around right now and get the hell out of here.” I smack his hand away.
“Back off, jackass,” I say, trying to get to Sparrow. He blocks me.
“You do not want to get in my face right now,” he hisses through clenched teeth. He shoves me toward the door. I shove him back.
“Get your hands off me, Tristan. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sparrow tries to get up. She holds her hand out, like she’s trying to ward me off. “I slipped, Lucas. That’s all. Somebody spilled a beer, and I hit the stove. I’m okay. Please go back to the party. Please.”
Tristan grins. “She’s right. For a ballerina, this is one clumsy chick! Must have hurt like hell. But she’s okay now. Right, honey? Right, baby?”
She doesn’t look up.
“That’s crap, and you know it,” I say, elbowing my way past him. I kneel down in front of Sparrow. She shakes her head at me, telling me to play it cool. But I can’t.
I put my arms around her shoulders and help her stand. “Come on, Birdy,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”
She hangs on to me for the smallest second, then pushes me away.
“Lucas, don’t. I’m fine.”
“Did you hear what she said?” Tristan says. “She’s fine. So get your damn hands off my girlfriend.” He takes Sparrow’s hand and pulls her to him. Outside, the music has stopped, and the sound of Israel’s laughter drifts in through the open window over the sink. Charlotte is crying. Delaney’s telling her to go home, that she’s tired of hosing puke out of the bushes.
Sparrow tears off a paper towel from the roll on the counter, then wipes her eyes and blows her nose.
“Tristan’s right, Lucas. I’m fine; I just slipped. I banged my leg, but it’s okay now. It doesn’t even hurt.”
She’s lying. I cannot take this for one more second.
“Birdy, are you freaking kidding me right now?”
Sparrow stares at me, her face suddenly scoured clean of any emotion. Like a blank canvas, waiting for her to paint on a feeling that looks real.
“I told you, I slipped. Somebody spilled a beer. I’m fine. Let it go.”
“Really? You slipped in some beer? Then how come your skirt is dry? How come I don’t smell any beer? How come the floor isn’t wet? He hurt you. You know it, I know it, and he knows it. You’re really going to stand there and lie to my face?”
“I told you already, he didn’t hurt me.” she says evenly.
“Sorry. I’m not buying it.”
Tristan pushes her out of the way. “You know, I’ve been wanting to ask you something. What’s it like being the man of the house, without, you know, actually being a man?”
Sparrow’s face blanches. “Tristan, don’t. That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“Shut up, Savannah,” he says. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
My dad. My stomach flips, and my eyes burn. There’s the essence of Tristan King right there, going straight for the jugular, savoring the kill shot. I miss my dad so much right now that I can’t breathe.
But I will be damned if I will let this douchebag see. “You’re so freaking predictable, Tristan, going straight for the dead dad. That the best you got? At least my dad was a normal guy. He didn’t show up everywhere with his wallet out, buying his kid out of all the messes he made, paying his way into places he couldn’t get into by himself. Is that how college is going to work, too? No one will even need to read your applications? I guess they’re just for peasants like the rest of us. Everybody knows rich Daddy King will just make a big, fat donation to the Ivy of your choice.”
His face goes purple. “I will kill you for that. I will beat you so hard even your mama won’t recognize you.”
“You really want to do this, bro?” I say, planting my feet. “You want to bring it right now? Right here? Go ahead. Give me a reason. I’ve been dying to kick your ass for years.”
“You don’t have the stones.”
“Try me.”
Sparrow ducks between us, arms outstretched, pulled up, trying to make herself look tall. “Lucas, walk away. Tristan, baby, come on. Let’s go.”
Tristan smiles at her, a real smile, like whatever nasty wind just blew through here is all gone now, and everything is all kittens and unicorns again. He wraps his arms around her, kisses her on the cheek, runs his fingers through her curls.
“I’m sorry I yelled just now. Your dancer friend here just pissed me off.” He kisses her on the mouth.
She looks up at him with a mixture of love and relief and fear. I can’t watch them; it makes me sick.
“You okay now, babe? Your leg hurt?”
“I’m fine, really,” she says, smiling shakily. “Let’s just go, okay?”
Tristan actually has the balls to wink at me. “Well, it’s been a kick chatting with a real prince, but we’re going to make like a baby and head out. You go on back to the party, have a juice box or something. We got us some window fogging to do. Fourth of July, right? We’re going to make our own fireworks, if you know what I mean.”
Neither one of them looks back, and in a few seconds I hear the deafening roar of his muscle car, the shrieking sound of industrial metal pounding from the oversized speakers, shaking the ground beneath my feet.
* * *
Hours later, when the only people left are passed out on the back lawn, I stand at the kitch
en sink, helping Delaney clean up. The cicadas are loud tonight, singing the theme music of summer in Virginia. Usually I love the sound, but tonight everything feels itchy, like the world is one big, scratchy wool sweater. I can’t stop thinking about how she’s in that shiny black car, how his hands are probably all over her. She’s alone. With him.
Delaney passes me a platter to dry, and I stand there, looking out the window, holding it in my hands.
“Lucas! Dry the plate. I’m exhausted, and you need to go home.”
She scoots me out of the way and opens the cabinet door under the sink to tie up the trash. “What in the world?”
Someone has thrown her mother’s favorite blue bowl in the garbage. There are lemons everywhere, under the disposal, in the totes holding the cleaning supplies.
“Laney?”
She’s on her knees, head under the sink, gathering up the lemons and cursing while she shoves them into the trash bag. “What?”
“So there was a thing. With Sparrow. Earlier.”
She backs out so quickly she bangs her head on the cupboard door and releases a string of profanity deeply impressive in its scope and creativity. I tell her what happened, leaving out the stuff Tristan said about my dad. She leans against the sink next to me while I dry the plate and put it away.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “I thought I heard yelling. Do you think she was lying? About how she slipped?”
“They were both lying. There was no beer on the floor, and her skirt was dry. I didn’t see it, but I think he pushed her, or hit her. He did something. She was terrified.”
“But you don’t know. Not for sure.”
“Laney, I need you to be on my side here.”
“I am on your side, Lucas! I’m not arguing. I’m just saying, you can’t be sure. We all know Tristan can be a monumental jerk. He actually flipped me off when they got here. He was all pissy because Sparrow forgot to wear that necklace. I don’t trust him. But he really has been sweet to her. Even though you don’t want to hear it, it’s true. Besides, you can’t just go around accusing a person of something you think might have happened. If you do, you can bet Tristan’s father will sue you for slander.”
Sparrow Page 11
