Rebecca nodded, shrugged.
“I know it doesn’t, believe me—I know.”
Someone called to Rebecca from the other end of the hall. She put a hand on Erika’s shoulder before she walked away.
And that was it. It was done.
Erika thought about screaming. Instead, she kicked the bench and hurt her foot, which was clad in a pair of cheap Target flats to go with this cheap Target dress that was supposed to look respectable.
Next to her, Salma was fuming, mumbling things that Erika couldn’t quite hear. She tried to reach for Erika, but Erika shrugged her away and faced the wall, looking at a portrait of who-the-hell-cared, some old white dude. She covered her mouth with her hand.
She was thinking of the tangle of Makenzie’s hair, when she had found her. She would never forget that.
She was thinking of her own hair, too. The fluorescent shine that used to frame her face. The bright lipstick that she liked to wear to match it.
She hadn’t worn lipstick for a year, after everything. She didn’t like calling attention to her mouth. And her hair—these days, Erika liked how her short, brown hair looked. But when she’d first changed it after high school graduation, it was because she never wanted to look like that person again. She never wanted to be that person again.
But it was impossible, of course, to really leave things behind. To be somebody different. Erika knew that.
Lots of girls knew that.
“I’m going to sit,” Erika said. “Just for a second.”
She lowered herself onto the hard bench. Salma settled beside her and put an arm around her, murmuring nothing words. Then she gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“I think somebody’s here to see you.”
Erika’s head snapped up, and she sucked in her breath.
“My car died, and I needed a ride,” Marissa said. “Marco’s busy with his stupid internship.”
“Are we too late?” Nina asked. “Oh my god, we got here as fast as we could.”
Erika stood up and hugged them both tightly. The four girls stood in a circle, while Erika began to explain what had happened. She’d only gotten a few words out, though, when Salma grabbed her arm and turned her slightly, directing her gaze down the hallway.
Makenzie was there, behind two people that Erika assumed to be her parents. Her father was holding the door open, and they were about to leave, while Erika stood frozen, watching them.
Maybe Makenzie could feel their eyes because she looked in their direction, paused there on the threshold.
She was wearing black dress pants and a white button-down, a low ponytail.
In a moment, she will turn and run this way. Her hair will unfurl, go flying behind her. My arms will be open and she’ll fall into them.
All that happened, though, was Makenzie put her hand in the air, the smallest wave, her face neutral.
Erika swallowed hard and then she waved back. As soon as she did, Makenzie slipped out the door and was gone. The door slammed behind them, echoing loudly.
“Are you okay?” Salma whispered.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
Erika sat down again, waiting for her heart to calm, sorting through all of the emotions that were knotted in her chest.
She hated what had happened here, she hated it down in her soul. But all the bravery she’d been gathering in the long months leading up to today, all the strength—she would hold on to that. There would be times, she knew, when she was going to need it. When the women around her would need it. And on the days when she struggled the most, she would think of Makenzie and what it must have taken for her to be in this building today.
Erika looked up at her friends, gave them a shaky smile.
“I’m so glad that all of you are here.”
37
Tucker
The race was ending in the park he used to come to when he was a kid—a big swath of green that had seemed vast and tinged with magic back then. It had a fountain, an iron gate that led down to a flower garden. There was a building on the property, too, an old estate where people liked to get married. He remembered once when he was little, he’d been dashing down the path and almost run right into a bride and groom in the middle of a photo shoot. His mom had gotten teary, and when he’d asked why, he didn’t understand her answer.
At the time, he didn’t know why someone would cry because they saw something beautiful.
Today, there was no wedding, of course. Instead, it was tables of water and Gatorade. Free T-shirts. Paramedics standing by just in case. He could see it all as he crested over the hill for that last quarter mile, and it was the kind of Saturday morning that made you glad to be alive—blue sky, gentle breeze. He was still too far away to pick out his mom and Frank, but he knew they were there waiting for him.
The race had in fact been Frank’s idea, a way for Tucker to raise money for cancer research. Frank had done a triathlon, the year after his first wife, Ann, had died, and he’d said it had helped, having some way to channel his feelings. That made sense to Tucker, so he’d started a page and promoted it online, and that meant everybody he knew—not just the few people he had told at first. He’d made some money and gotten a lot of unrequested sympathy, and now here he was, running faster than he’d ever run in his life.
Tucker had been quick enough all those years of playing baseball, but he’d been training hard now for two months. He’d made mixes that were all bass and speed, and he’d pounded his way through the neighborhood, sweating and straining until he was almost too tired to think.
Erika did pop into his mind sometimes when he ran; he knew she’d done track and that she could still crush a mile pretty good. He always shut that down as quickly as he could, because it was better for him to not think about her.
The morning after his dad died, he’d returned early to collect Bobby, then texted Erika to tell her that they were gone, that he was sorry, that he wouldn’t bother her again.
He didn’t tell her about his dad, and she’d never responded. They hadn’t spoken since, not one word.
Almost to the end. Go, go, go.
Someone was screaming through a bullhorn. A guy in a tiger suit was jumping up and down, cheering everyone down the last stretch. The air was warm and Tucker had run hard, maybe a little too hard; his breath was coming ragged now, his side stitching up as he took those final steps across the finish line and then found a space where he could collapse.
Seconds later, his mom was hovering over him, face scrunched and concerned.
“My god, how are you done already? Are you okay?”
He smiled and told her he was fine, sitting up as she was sitting down, the two of them next to each other in the grass.
“Where’s Frank?”
“He told me it’s annoying, when people try to talk to you right away.”
“And yet here you are,” Tucker said, unable to keep the smartass smile off his face.
She acted like she was going to hit him on the head with the water bottle, then handed it to him instead.
“Well?” she said. “Are you glad you did it?”
“I am. For sure.”
“Good, good. So do they sell last-minute tickets to prom?”
He rolled his eyes, and she put her hands up, conceding the point, keeping her mouth shut.
“It’s just prom,” he said. “It’s not a big deal. I’d rather go to the farm.”
His mom was watching him carefully.
“I’m happy that you want to do that. I really am. But listen, I called Maggie this morning, to say hi and make sure she knew that you were coming. Tucker—she told me this is the last time everyone will be together there. Grandma Ruth is moving into an assisted-living place in September. And then they’re selling the land.”
The news made Tucker’s chest go tight. He was going to lose one of the only places that he could remember ever spending time with Ray, one of their only connections.
Then Tucker looked up sharply at his mom. “What about Rile
y?”
She sighed. “Nate’s getting transferred to New Jersey next month, and his wife hasn’t found a job there yet, so things are complicated with them. Maggie’s planning to move Riley in with her family as soon as she can, but she has to get a new schedule first, to make it work. Plus they need a bigger place.”
Tucker stared at his shoes. “Maggie has five kids.”
“I know, hon, I know.”
Tucker thought of Riley and Grandma Ruth, alone on the farm all summer, counting the days until it was gone. He untied and then retied his laces for no good reason, then cleared his throat.
“What if, um, what if Riley came and stayed with us for the weekend?”
“You mean this weekend?”
“I could watch him the whole time—you wouldn’t have to do anything. He can sleep in the guest room, and we can take the Metro to the zoo or something. He likes monkeys, and I thought . . .”
“Tucker, relax. I think that’s a great idea, I just . . . let me call Maggie, okay? I’ll call her and let you know what she says.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Tucker said. “This is going to be awesome.”
Ignoring her protests, he gave her a very sweaty hug.
38
Erika
“Nina, I can’t believe prom is tonight, and you’re here. Shouldn’t you be at the spa or something?”
Nina rolled her eyes.
“Erika, I told you. I broke up with Theo weeks ago, and I’m just going with Kara. I’m going to get ready in about five minutes.”
“It’s kind of too bad,” Marissa whispered. “Because Theo was a total smokeshow.”
Salma giggled at that while Nina mumbled oh my god and went back to her breakfast.
After the courthouse, Marissa and Nina had come back to the dorms with Erika and Salma and had ended up crashing there, eating pizza and watching terrible movies. Now the four of them were at the Daily Grind, and with most of the St. B’s students gone, they had it almost entirely to themselves. They sat together at a big table, finishing their bagels and clutching giant plastic cups that were more whipped cream than coffee.
Erika sighed. “I’m still so bummed to hear about Kara and Yrma.”
“Tell me about it,” Nina said. “This is what my mom always warned me about. They’re your best friends, and someday they’ll break up, and then what are you going to do?”
“So it really is that bad?” Erika asked.
“Kind of. It’s just fresh, I guess. I think everything will be okay.”
They were all quiet after that, drinking their coffee, lost in their own thoughts.
“They’re dropping like flies,” Erika finally said. “I guess it’s that time of year, but c’mon. How’s a girl supposed to believe in love anymore?”
“Um, by basking in the glow of me and Marco? By imagining the insanely beautiful children we’ll be making someday?”
“Ew,” Nina said. “Can you at least say having instead of making?”
Salma leaned closer to Marissa. “Hey, I still haven’t seen a picture of him. I want to imagine the beautiful babies.”
Marissa happily took out her phone, and Erika waited until she and Salma were fully distracted. Then she reached out and touched Nina’s arm.
“I don’t think I ever said thank you for yesterday, for coming to the courthouse. And skipping school! I know I didn’t actually have to do anything, but I’m really glad that you guys were there, and I’m glad you hung around. I think I needed the company this weekend.”
Nina gave her a little smile, but it was a pained one. “Are you kidding? This was important. Even my mom was cool with it. But Erika . . . when I was driving Marissa up here, I mentioned something that I assumed she knew, and that I assumed you knew, but apparently neither of you did know about this kind of big thing?”
Marissa stopped chatting with Salma then. Meanwhile, Erika went still, waiting to hear more.
“We were trying to figure out the right time to tell you, and yesterday just didn’t seem . . . anyway. I guess we should tell you now,” Nina said.
Marissa gave a little cough. “So, E, I know we agreed never to speak his name again, but do you think enough time has passed?”
Tucker.
Erika had been trying her best not to think about him these past few months, and she’d certainly had plenty to distract her. Last night, she kept wondering if Nina was going to bring him up, some part of her hoping that she would. . . .
But now Nina and Marissa both had troubled looks on their faces, and Erika raised her eyebrows, silently asking them to go on.
“Let’s start with the kind of smaller thing?” Marissa said. “Just as an FYI, he’s kind of around the corner.”
The back of Erika’s neck tingled.
“What do you mean, he’s around the corner?”
“He’s not going to prom because there’s some party this afternoon, for his dad’s family,” Nina said. “I guess he goes every year, and he didn’t want to miss it?”
Tucker was going to the farm today. Erika took a moment to consider that. He hadn’t been since the accident, had he? The thought of him being there again set off an ache in her heart.
“Okay,” she said. “That’s fine. It’s, whatever. What’s the rest?”
Nina and Marissa exchanged a glance, and then Nina sucked in her breath.
“Erika, Tucker’s dad died.”
The bell on the front door jingled. The espresso machine screamed. Erika almost insisted that Nina was wrong. The words were on the tip of her tongue.
I’m sorry, you must be mistaken. That asshole was supposed to be around until the end of the year.
Erika willed herself not to chew on her nail and tried her best to make her voice steady.
“Did it just happen?”
Nina shook her head, her face crumpling.
“No, it was months ago. Bobby told me it happened that weekend they were visiting you.”
After a couple of minutes alone in the bathroom, Erika returned to the table, where her three friends were all staring at her in concern.
“I’m okay, seriously. Or sort of okay. I guess I’m worried about him.”
Nina sighed. “He definitely hasn’t been himself, but he seems better than he was at first. I think he’s hanging in there.”
Erika nodded, then changed the subject, asking what Nina was wearing tonight. They looked at dressing room pictures on Nina’s phone, and then Salma and Marissa were reliving their prom night antics while Nina laughed.
Erika was distracted through it all, too many thoughts churning in her head. Then she felt Marissa’s foot poking hers.
“So are you packed?” Marissa asked. “You ready to meet the baby?”
“Yes to the first part. I guess to the second.”
Marissa’s lips were pressed tightly together, and she was watching Erika carefully. “So you’re going to go grab your stuff from the dorm, then head out?”
Erika drank the last of her coffee and set the empty cup delicately on the table.
“That’s the plan. I’ve got a party to go to, right?”
39
Tucker
If I lived here, I would never forget to look up.
That’s what Tucker thought after he’d parked his car next to the others and stepped out into the bright day, the clouds overhead grand and slowly moving, moving. The grass was high as he walked through it. He remembered that this was a point of discussion, the year before—that the land was going wild. His grandmother hadn’t had the means or the money to control it, and so everything had grown unchecked. The creek flooded; trees fell.
Did that matter? Tucker had no idea. He didn’t know much about this place, how it worked, what it was worth.
He did think it was beautiful. The tragedy of losing it—he felt that in his heart.
As he walked into the party, Maggie spotted him right away and came to smother him in a hug.
“Your mom called me. Riley is so excited, tha
nk you. I have a booster seat to put in your car. And don’t be surprised if he crawls into bed with you around three a.m. There’s more, but I’m going to put it in an email and send it to you and your mom, okay?”
“Okay, cool. Yes. Thank you, for letting me do this. I really wanted to do this.”
Maggie was about to say more, but then Tucker was almost knocked down when Riley crashed into his legs. Tucker made a big show of falling to the ground, letting Riley crawl all over him, letting the grass tickle his skin as he stared at the sky.
He wanted to commit the feeling of this place, this day, perfectly to his memory.
Tucker hugged his grandmother, then Nate and his wife, then Maggie’s husband. He shook hands with some of his dad’s cousins. Everyone was saying how nice the weather was, but of course there was a shadow over the day because Ray was gone, and soon the farm would be, too.
Tucker had seen everyone at the official service, but that had been such a strange, terrible day. The funeral home was so cold and impersonal, and Tucker had stuck close to his mom, finding it hard to talk to anyone else, his relatives looking unfamiliar in their dark clothes. Now everyone was back in their T-shirts, his cousins joking and laughing, talking about their summer jobs, their swim meets. Bill was holding up a bat and a Wiffle ball, asking Tucker if he wanted to start a game.
Riley appeared again, clinging to Tucker’s leg.
“Will you take me to Chuck E. Cheese this weekend? I love Chuck E. Cheese.”
“Maybe. You know I used to work at a place a lot like Chuck E. Cheese. But it was even better.”
“TAKE ME THERE! Let’s go there.”
Tucker felt an ache then, in his chest, and found it almost hard to answer.
“I wish I could. It’s closed for good.”
Riley put on a cartoon-like pout, and Tucker laughed, releasing him. He was about to offer to pitch, but then he saw that Bill had dropped the ball and bat and was heading over to his grandmother’s porch. Everybody was. Tucker walked over, too.
Nate was standing with a beer in his hands, his eyes tearing up a bit as he said that they should do a quick toast. He came up with a few vague but heartfelt words—how it had been a long couple months without Ray, that he would be missed. People bowed their heads, and the quiet seconds stretched out. Tucker thought that was going to be it, but then Maggie stepped forward and said she had a story.
Our Year in Love and Parties Page 18
