I stared at him. How was he able to express himself like that when he was so jacked up? And was he making a play for me, really, or was that the alcohol talking?
“Well, little, tiny sister, I’d offer to drive you home, but I’m really not in any shape to get you there safely. I get the feeling most everybody here plans to stay the night. How would your folks feel about that? I could sleep next to you to make sure no one bothers you. Since it’s my cabin, I get an actual bed in the back.”
“Are you kidding? My dad will put out an Amber Alert on me any minute now. And if he knew that you used the word ‘sleep’ in the same sentence as me, he’d rearrange your pretty face.”
Luke grinned and laughed under his breath. “You think I’m pretty?” He attempted to stand, but it took him several tries. “Your dad’s right, by the way. Remind me to shake his hand one day. I’d give you the keys to my truck, but you’d get lost trying to get back to town. I know somebody that’d flog me like a mad rooster and it ain’t your daddy.”
Luke stumbled through the room, slapping guys on the back and hugging girls. He was a sloppy drunk, but at least he was nice. He disappeared outside, but ten minutes later he leaned through the open window, talking on his cell.
He caught my eye and held up his finger to tell me to wait a minute. He mouthed, “This is so worth it,” to me. Or to himself. Or to an alcohol-inspired vision behind me. Pointing at his cell, he said, “Thanet.” So Thanet’s “eyes” at the party were Luke’s.
I started flipping channels again and found a show to watch. I grabbed the blanket thrown over the back of the couch and covered up. I must have dozed off because I dreamed someone rubbed the back of my hand.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Henry whispered. “I heard you could use a ride home.” He spoke low in my ear and his warm breath sent a chill down that side of my body. Not a dream.
I sat up quickly, rubbing my eyes clear. Henry sat on the floor next to my chair. He laughed at my confusion, and probably at my hair, which I tried to smooth back out of my face.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“How in the heck can you sleep through this?”
“Through what?” I raised my eyebrows. “You mean Jim Morrison screaming ‘Light My Fire’?”
He smiled so I smiled.
“No, I mean the normal party mingling. Of course, I mean Morrison. And I mean the choking air and the…well, this…did this not wake you?” He pushed at the couple making out next to my chair with his boot. “And this… was this not a problem?”
He pointed to the small smoke alarm above me that was, at that moment, warning anyone who would listen about the hazardous air quality in the room. No one even heard it above the yelling and The Doors’ first album set to repeat.
“And this?” He motioned toward the crowd that had tripled since we’d arrived.
“I can sleep.” I shrugged. “It’s my gift.”
“Lucky girl.” He managed to stand up using the miniscule amount of space around his long frame.
“Have you been here long?” I said.
“Just arrived and now I’m ready to leave. Let’s get you some fresh air.”
I couldn’t even describe how relieved I was to see him. He took the blanket off, folded it up, and laid it on the back of the chair, then pulled me up. I followed him through the cabin. He paused to thank Luke before tugging me gently through the kitchen and out the door.
I took a huge breath of clean, pine-scented air. How many years had I cut from my life from inhaling smoke in that cabin? The lights of his truck were on and the engine rumbled, promising warmth and escape. He opened the passenger door for me and then walked around to get in the driver’s side.
He drove for five minutes without saying a word. I could see the muscle in his jaw tensing and releasing over and over. Wyatt always did that when he was worried about something. Finally, I broke the silence.
“Okay, I give up. How’d you know I needed a ride?”
He took his sweet time answering. “Thanet called me. Luke texted him wondering why you were there. They couldn’t find anyone who was in any shape to get behind the wheel and Thanet had a feeling I might be willing to help out.”
He glanced at me and laughed. “Luke told me you threatened to get your dad to hurt him if he touched you.”
“That’s totally out of context!”
“It’s okay, Meg.” He took his eyes off the road and looked at me. “So, a party girl from Pittsburgh, huh? I knew you were hiding something when we talked last night.”
“Me? No. It was supposed to be a nice quiet evening in with the girls. I’m an idiot.”
He suppressed a laugh. “You’re not an idiot, Meg. I warned you about Tennyson, didn’t I? She’s as stubborn as a lop-eared mule, and I can’t believe she took you to a party and then deserted you. Matt and his little frat boy friends…did they leave you alone?”
“It’s like I wasn’t even there.”
Henry’s face softened when I said that.
“I never go to those parties,” he said. “Too much work to do and I don’t have time to waste. Plus, there’re a million other ways to have a good time.”
I nodded at him, unable to stop this simple crush from turning into a full mind and body slam. I could keep it a secret, but I couldn’t stop it from ruling my thoughts anymore.
“Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Anytime.”
He messed with his CD player until some soft country played. “Better?”
“Yes. My eardrums were bleeding.”
We didn’t talk again until we hit the city limits, but it wasn’t awkward at all. It was the opposite of awkward. He even sang along to a song for a minute and I couldn’t look away.
“What’d you tell your parents about camping?” he said.
“That I loved the company and the stars and the campfire and the dog, but I could’ve used a bed.”
“City living makes you soft, doesn’t it, Pittsburgh?”
“You’re funny, Buffalo Bill.”
When we neared my street, I pointed and told him my address. He parked in my drive, cut the engine, and sat hunched over, fiddling with his keychain. “Don’t forget about coming to the stables for a ride. Maybe next Saturday?”
“I want to. I’ll check with my parents.”
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I mean…of the horses. Okay? Tell your folks they’re all gentle trail horses. We put kids on them all the time.”
“I’ll tell them.” I messed with my bag to keep from reaching for Henry. “I really appreciate your help tonight. And last night. I’m sorry Tennyson keeps doing things that wind up involving you. That must be annoying.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Nobody forced my hand, Meg. Either night. I’m glad I could spend some time with you. You can call me anytime you find yourself stranded at a drunken soiree. Or, better yet, call me if you’ve been invited to one, and I’ll come over and take you out instead.” He reached toward me and I thought he wanted to hold my hand. Instead, he tugged my phone out of my palm and keyed in his number. Then he hit send and let it ring through to his phone. “You’re whistle bait, so I’d rather you be with me than around a bunch of drunk punks.”
“What’s that?” I took my phone back and added Henry’s name to his number.
“Whistle bait or drunk punks?” He smiled knowingly. “You’re beautiful so you attract a lot of whistles.”
“Okay, flatterer. Does that work on all the Chapin girls?”
“Don’t know.” He chuckled. “Never tried.”
But then, the best thing that had ever happened to me, happened. Henry Whitmire walked me to the door and kissed me on the forehead before he said goodnight.
And instead of feeling confused or weird, I felt new and light. Old Meg would’ve worried about what everyone thought. Was I helping him cheat on Brooke? New Meg didn’t really care.
I’d been a straight-A student since kindergarten,
but darn if I could figure out why I couldn’t form an intelligent thought at that moment. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that I would definitely be going to Henry’s stable on Saturday.
THIRTEEN
Closing the door with my back, I leaned against it and listened to Henry’s truck crunching over gravel as he backed out of my drive. The only light in the house came from my parents’ bedroom, where I could just make out my mom’s voice. It rose and crashed again and again in the cadence that meant she’d lost it. My dad was losing it, too. When Mom stopped to breathe, he let her have it.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said. “But if you do, you aren’t taking Meg. She’s finally acting like a normal teenage girl. You’re not ruining that for her.”
Something glass crashed against the wall, the shattering so loud that I grabbed my ears and cringed.
“You can’t expect me to leave her here. I am her mother, Jack.”
“Really?” Dad said. “Then act like it, Adele.”
The door opened, slamming against the bedroom wall. My dad walked out, pinching the bridge of his nose, and trying hard to maintain control. He stopped when he saw me frozen in the living room. He tried to hide the misery on his face by rubbing his cheeks with his palms.
“Where have you been?” he said, on a released breath. “You didn’t leave me a note or anything.”
“I told Mom I would be with Tennyson.” I swallowed against the rising bile in my throat. “She said it was fine.”
A sound escaped his throat that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. “I need to know where you are. You have to tell me directly from now on.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
He nodded and walked past me out the front door, slamming it behind him. The headlights from his truck bounced over me and around the walls of the room as he sped away from the house.
I tiptoed to the bathroom for a shower, feeling trapped in smoky clothes that would prove where I’d been. I washed the evidence out of my hair and used half a bottle of shower gel on my skin. By the time I turned the water off, I was red like a lobster from head to toe, but still filled with dread.
My mom was on my bed when I walked into my room. She raised her head and tried to smile. I stepped into my closet and shut the door so I could dress for bed in private.
“I’m sorry you heard all that, Meg,” she called. “But it’s probably for the best because I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Hidden in my closet, I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and steadied myself for whatever came next. As soon as I opened the door, she made room for me and patted the mattress next to her.
“Come on,” she said. “Just like when you were little and I’d lie down with you until you fell asleep. Remember?”
“I remember.” I lay down on the other twin bed, and pulled the quilt up to my neck. That was close enough.
The smile she’d been trying to maintain faltered and then the look came back—the one that had settled on her face so many months ago and rarely left.
“I’m going back to Pittsburgh, Meg.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’ve already packed what I need. The house is there…Wyatt is there…it wasn’t right for us to leave him and go so far.” She rolled to her back and covered her face with her forearms. Her body shook gently. She was crying. I had one of those moments where I floated just above the scene and none of it affected me. I would feel it later. Right now, I just felt numb.
“And I want you to go with me,” she continued. “I need you, Meg, and I know you miss your friends and your school. This would fix everything. We’d be close to Catherine and David and the girls and we’d have support again. We have no support here. We don’t know these people.”
In a way, she was right. We had left our family—the ones who had been there for us. Catherine, Mom’s sister, and her husband David and their little girls lived in Canning Mills. They’d begged us not to leave. I missed my cousins, Audrey and Ana Kate. I missed my friends and my old school and I felt a tug to go back. But not on these terms.
“I want to stay,” I said under my breath. “I’m staying.”
Mom looked up, shock her only expression. “Why would you stay, Meg? Why would you choose a town in Wyoming over your home and your mother and your brother?”
I stared at the ceiling because it was safer than staring into her eyes. “My brother isn’t there. He’s here with me where he’ll always stay. And you…” I forced myself to calm down before I said something that would crush her more. “You’re already in Pittsburgh, Mom. You never left. I’ve needed you for months, but you haven’t noticed. You chose Wyatt.”
“That’s it?” she said. “All you want to say to me?”
“There’s more.” Warm tears tracked down my cheeks. “I want you to stay. I can help you get better. I could quit my job and spend all my free time with you.”
Desperation warbled my voice. I needed my mother to take this hand I was offering her. But she wasn’t reaching for me.
I turned and searched her eyes. She was calm, but closed down. She’d made a decision and I was suddenly terrified for her—for us.
“I planted some crocus bulbs next to my studio today. They should add a lot of color there when they bloom.”
“Maybe you can paint them,” I said. “Mom, are you still taking your medicine? Is it helping you feel better at all?”
Her anger was quick and burning. “I don’t want to feel better.” She said it like it was perfectly normal for hate and love to keep company in her relationship with me. “Why would I want to feel better when my son is lying in a grave two thousand miles from here, and the world is forgetting him? For God’s sake, even his own father is forgetting him.”
She threw the quilts off and sat up. Her anger turned to weeping. “I’m so tired of everyone thinking it’s time to get on with life. You’re no better than your dad, Meg. Don’t you see? God, you’ve moved on. Can’t we all just be silent about this? Don’t you see that words mess it up?”
Her words cut me so deeply that I couldn’t breathe for a full minute. Finally, I sucked air in loudly and shook with the violence of that act. I sat up, too, and faced her.
“You don’t own this grief, Mom. It’s mine, too. And it’s Dad’s. We struggle every day just to make it through without him. You’ve never considered what I went through. I was there.” Those words sent a ripping pain through me. “I know you wish it had been me! And you don’t even give Dad any credit for trying to be strong. You’re being ridiculous and selfish!”
We were both crying now. I refused to walk away, though. As much as this hurt, it was a relief to finally hear her say the words that have simmered under the surface for months. Maybe we’d turned a corner.
Her body relaxed slightly and she held one hand in the air toward me…like she wanted to comfort me, but she was unable to close the distance between us.
“I have never wished that it had been you. I’m sorry you’ve believed that for even one second. I don’t know how to do this. I’m just so cold here. You have to forgive me.” She stood and moved toward the door, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist like she felt sick and one arm cradling her head. “I can’t listen to your dad’s voice anymore, talking about everything except Wyatt. And, you, you have to be allowed to live and I’m just making that impossible. You need to stay here.”
She walked past me into her room and closed the door.
I moved to my bed, knowing there’d be no sleeping tonight. I had to listen for my dad to get home and for my mom to drive away. I’d never been more scared for her and a devastating thought was trying to work its way through my mind. If I stay here, she might hurt herself and it would be on me. And the even more disturbing one—Wyatt had it easier.
I held my phone in my hand. Was there even one person I could call? One person who would listen and not judge me or tell me it would get better. I wanted to tell a f
riend that I’d had the most perfect night of my life with Henry and then tell her that my life was imploding.
My phone buzzed in my hand and I nearly came out of my skin.
Pittsburgh… I’m glad I got to see you tonight. Are you working tomorrow while school’s out?
I stared at Henry’s message, marveling at how simple it was. He had no idea how dark the world had gone. His sweet words made me imagine his world of possibility.
Henry!! Thx again for your help. I had a great time with you. I’m not scheduled to work. Why?
Haha… because I really want to see you again and I thought we could ride horses???
Every moment of our lives we make choices. Most we don’t even know we’re making, they’re so dull or routine or automatic. Some are beyond explanation—like my mom choosing Wyatt’s memory over Dad and me. This moment called me to choose between moving back to Pittsburgh with her to make sure she survived or riding horses with Henry in Wyoming. Seemed straightforward on the surface. But what lurked under the surface could trip me up.
I closed my eyes and focused on breathing for a moment. In that moment, I heard two important things. My dad came in the front door, closed it softly behind him, and called to my mom, “I talked to Catherine and she said she’ll help out while you’re there, so if you need this time, I’ll support you.” And my mom answered, “Would you load my suitcases?” Their voices were calm but resigned. Dad had made his choice. Mom had made hers. It was past time that I made one, too.
I’d love to ride horses with you, Buffalo Bill. What time?
FOURTEEN
Dear Wyatt—
Mom is going home. She’ll drive straight through until she’s falling asleep on the shoulder of I70. Stay with her. I’ll stay with Dad.
I’m tucking some paper around in the hole you left. The wind still whistles in, but I’m not as cold. And I’m going to spend the day with Henry. He makes me feel safe.
Love,
Meg
Glass Girl (A Young Adult Novel) Page 9
