Happenstance 2

by Jamie McGuire

  Sam got out and walked around to my side of the Range Rover.

  "This isn't happening," I whispered before he opened the door.

  I stepped out. Sam and Julianne were both beaming.

  "We've missed a few birthdays and Christmases," Sam said.

  "Graduation is coming up too," Julianne said.

  I pointed to the shiny red paint. "Is this for me?"

  Sam held up a small, black remote with a few silver buttons. "It's not the same as holding up keys, but this goes to your new car. We hope you like red."

  I choked on my own spit. "Do I like--? You're joking."

  They both shook their heads, and I did the same.

  Their smiles fell away, and Julianne held out her hands, walking toward me.

  "Please let us do this. I'm not even sure who came up with the idea. Both of us, I think."

  Sam nodded in agreement.

  Julianne continued, her voice shaking. "And you need a car, honey. You're eighteen, and you work hard, and...you should have a vehicle."

  Their faces and then the car began to blur. Before I could stop the tears from pouring over and spilling out, my cheeks were already wet.

  Julianne's lips trembled, and she began to cry too, quickly covering her mouth.

  Sam wrapped his arms around me. "Please let us do this for you."

  "I don't know how to even accept something like this. This just gets crazier every day, but in the best possible way. Not because of the things. It's not the things." The words came out funny and muffled, and I wasn't sure if they could even understand me.

  Sam put the remote in my hand and then hugged me to his side. "It's a year old, excellent condition, and it has a nine point one safety rating. The keys are inside that remote. It's a push-button start. I filled up the tank and checked the fluids myself. Will you drive us to dinner? I can show you what all the buttons do."

  I shook my head again. "I don't think I should. I don't have a lot of experience driving, and--"

  "You drive Weston's truck sometimes, don't you?" Julianne asked.

  I nodded.

  "I need a ride to dinner before I starve to death." Sam was trying to tease me as gently as he could, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

  I wiped my eyes and looked to Julianne. "Have you had dinner?"

  She nodded. "Go spend some time with your..."

  "My Sam," I said.

  Sam liked it too.

  My face fell. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful. This...Thank you. Thank you so much. This is amazing. It just feels too amazing. It's kind of scaring me a little. I feel the better things get, the worse it's going to feel when it all goes away. Not the things. I don't mean the things."

  Julianne held my cheeks with both hands. "You're our daughter, and we bought our daughter a car. That's all. It's not wrong. It's not to set you up for disappointment. It's just a car."

  "It's not just a car." I looked back at the candy-red BMW sitting in the drive and then down at the remote in my hand. I really had a car. I could drive myself to school. To work. To college. To the grocery store. To the Laundromat, if I still had to go there. I didn't, but I could drive there if I did. "You don't know what this means to me. I don't think I could explain it to you."

  "You don't know what you mean to us," Julianne said.

  I pressed my lips together. "I'm really nervous about driving it."

  They laughed, and Julianne snapped dozens of pictures while Sam went over the basics, and then she waved as I very slowly backed out of the drive.

  "You're doing great," Sam said as I pulled up on the signal lever and turned right.

  "I'm going to wake up any minute," I said, shaking my head. "This is just too wonderful to be real."

  Sam chuckled. "I'm glad you like it. It's a relief. We were afraid you wouldn't like it and be upset."

  I thought about what it must have been like for them to see disappointment in Alder's eyes when they gave her a car on her sixteenth birthday. At the next stop sign, I made sure to look Sam directly in the eyes.

  "You didn't have to get me anything. The way you've been so accepting and understanding is more than I could ever ask for. But this is absolutely incredible. I love it. I can't thank you enough."

  Sam's smile stretched wide, and he settled back into his seat. "I can't wait to tell Julianne you said that. She'll be so happy."

  I pressed my foot on the gas, and the car that wasn't just a car responded immediately, taking us to the restaurant.

  When we arrived, it took nearly ten minutes for me to park, and then Sam instructed me how to turn off the ignition and lock up. He walked me across the parking lot and reached to open the door, but it swung open before he could.

  The Mastersons stepped out, and Carolyn audibly gasped. Her platinum hair, thin and sparse from years of bleaching, was pulled loosely back into a low bun, her white, crisp collar popped up in the back and folded down in the front. When her mouth opened, her entire face shifted with it, as if the skin were so tight, it all had to move as a unit. She was nearly skeletal, but her husband, Harry, was round and breathed heavy, just from the walk from their table to the door. Unlike Carolyn, Harry couldn't trouble himself to make any expression at all. Only his eyes moved to see whom she was reacting to.

  Sam cupped my shoulders, and the air between us was immediately tense. "Hi, Harry. Carolyn."

  Carolyn collected herself and then arched one brow, looking me over like Sam had plucked me straight from the city dump and into the privilege of her presence.

  "So she's living with you now?" Carolyn asked, her voice breathy and full of disdain.

  "Not now, Carolyn," Sam said, encouraging me into the glass double doors.

  Just as I took a step forward, Carolyn took a step to stand in front of the door.

  "Do you have any idea what we've been through, Sam?" she seethed.

  "I'm really not comfortable discussing this in front of Erin, Carolyn. Please," he said, gesturing for her to step aside.

  She didn't. "I am devastated. Julianne is my best friend, and I treated Alder like a daughter. Do you know how sick and twisted this all is? I can't even talk to Julianne about it because you have your new family now, and she doesn't want negativity. Is she kidding me?"

  My brow furrowed.

  Harry stood there, stoic.

  Sam glanced down to me and then back to her. "Julianne's right. Our priority is Erin, and it's not a good idea for you to be around her, considering..." He hugged me to his side. "I'm truly sorry, Carolyn. But I won't discuss this now. We've all been through a lot, and now just isn't the time."

  We went through a second set of doors and were greeted by the host. The walls were covered in bright paint and detailed murals, and the speakers played a Spanish tune just loud enough to be heard over the low murmuring of the patrons. Dozens of heads turned to see Sam and I walking down the aisle to the end booth.

  Sam shifted nervously as the waiter took our drink orders and then leaned in to speak. "I'm so sorry about Carolyn. I didn't know they would be here. They've been fairly private since the girls passed away."

  "Understandable."

  "Julianne and Carolyn disagree about our choices."

  "That must be very hard for Carolyn," I said.

  Sam paused, surprised at my comment, and then chuckled. "Yes, well, I'm sure it is. Julianne is usually very...amicable. Carolyn isn't used to being ignored. As I'm sure you could sense, it's a bit tense between us."

  "They don't believe I'm your daughter?" I asked.

  He pushed up his round glasses. "It doesn't matter to me or to your...Julianne. We are only interested in a smooth transition for you at this point, and...Oh, Erin. I'm sorry. That sounds pretty clinical."

  "You don't have to dumb it down for me, Sam. You're a surgeon. I expect you to speak intelligently."

  Sam laughed once. "Well, I'm not speaking to you as your surgeon. I'm speaking to you as your Sam."

  I grinned. The term was definitely growing on me.r />
  My phone buzzed. "It's Weston," I said. I read the message, silently first, and then read it aloud to Sam. "Julianne showed me pics of the car. Badass."

  Sam seemed pleased and gestured for me to respond.

  Can I pick you up for school in the morning?

  He didn't respond right away. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

  Wow.

  What?

  I was afraid that was going to get cut out too.

  What do you mean?

  Our morning ride to school together. Call me before u go to bed. Love the car.

  Okay. Thanks! Me too!

  He sent me a yellow face kissing a tiny heart, but I had no idea how to do it back and didn't want to spend my dinner with Sam texting, so I just sent back the same typed-out wink face I'd sent before.

  "Things going well with you two?" Sam asked as I put my phone in my pocket.

  I nodded. "He's been kind of weird since I moved in."

  "Yeah, I think he misses you a little bit."

  "Is it weird for you? That I'm spending time with him, and he was Alder's boyfriend?"

  Sam thought about it for a moment, but I knew he already knew the answer. He was just deciding how to word it.

  "I want you to be happy. Weston is a good guy."

  "You can be straight with me, Sam. I did ask."

  Sam's mouth pulled to the side. "You're...refreshing, Erin. But I stand by my original statement."

  I nodded. "Fair enough."

  THE PRISTINE, WHITE CEILING FAN WAS ON, ROTATING quietly. It didn't wobble and nearly blended in with the smooth, white paint on the ceiling, which wasn't cracked or peeling. There were no moisture spots where the roof leaked.

  The closets and bathrooms of the Alderman home still smelled like fresh paint. Nothing like Gina's rundown, moldy two-bedroom. It felt weird not to have seen her since I learned the news, but I conceded that she wanted it that way. Gina's car was still parked at the grocery store where she worked, in the same parking lot, during the same hours she used to work, but I hadn't gone in. Mostly because I wouldn't know what to say, but also because Julianne kept the pantry full with everything I could possibly need. It was almost as if anticipating and fulfilling my every need was a full-time job for Julianne.

  I ran my thumb over the black keyless-entry remote still in my hand. I hadn't put it on my nightstand or left it on the kitchen counter next to Sam's keys because I had an irrational fear that if I put that remote down, it would disappear. Everything that had happened to me in the last month was so surreal, so opposite of the way my life had gone so far, it was almost too perfect to believe. So I held on to the remote like I held on to the hope that I would open my eyes in the morning under the same pretty ceiling fan, down the hallway from the door missing the pastel letters.

  I looked over at the digital clock on the table and sighed. It was two in the morning. After dinner I'd called Weston, and we'd chatted for an hour about the car. He wanted to drive around with me, but I was tired at the time. Now, lying on a mattress so soft, I sank into it, and sheets so soft, they felt a bit greasy (in the best possibly way). I couldn't sleep.

  I padded across the room in my bare feet and opened the door. It creaked, so I froze and peeked down the hall. It was dark and quiet. Sam and Julianne had been in bed for quite a while.

  I stepped out onto the tightly woven carpet and took a few silent steps, until I was standing in front of Alder's door. My heartbeat reacted as I reached for the handle, wondering if her room would be locked. I was afraid of what was on the other side, as if she would be standing there, screaming at me to get out.

  I pushed down on the gold lever, and it gave way. The door opened, creaking a bit like mine, and I pushed it open.

  The room was dark, but the moonlight pouring in through the windows offered enough light that I could see the pictures poked into the crisscrossed ribbon on a corkboard on the wall. Photos of the Erins at cheer practice and football games, hanging with Brady and Brendan and Chrissy, and of course, Weston. I swallowed. He looked happy, and that made my stomach turn, even though I remembered seeing him with Alder all the time with the same expression. The bright eyes that were only for her. I thought about how he looked at me.

  It's different, I told myself.

  Her room was clean, and everything was in its place. It had been dusted recently, and the bed was made. I sat down on her black-and-white comforter and looked around at the various decorations on the wall. It felt wrong, but also exhilarating, a thousand times more than texting during class. Alder would have died all over again if she knew I was in her room--if she knew I was living there, and Weston was coming to see me. I wondered how Sam and Julianne rationalized all of this to themselves, balancing making me happy with not feeling like they were crapping all over her memory.

  I walked over to her closet and opened the door. It was a walk-in like mine. Her clothes were pressed and hanging from dozens of identical plastic hangers like mine. But she had several cheer uniforms in her closet, and a lot of dresses and high heels. A plastic bag poked out from the rest of the clothes, and I switched on the closet light to get a better look. It was a prom dress.

  I tried to get a good look without touching it, but I finally resorted to pulling it out of its spot and holding it before me. The remote that I still held made it difficult to maneuver my hand, but I managed to pull it out with clumsy effort. It was breathtaking. The neckline was one-shouldered, and it was practically backless, sheer from the waist up, with a few silver rhinestones crowding certain areas. She would have looked like a Greek goddess, and I imagined her wearing her hair up, slicked back from her face, in a high bun. Then I imagined her with Weston, and I put the dress away.

  My curiosity still wasn't satiated, but the closet was the only place I felt I could look around with the light on. I fingered through her clothes and then her shoes. I found a rectangular toy box behind her hanging clothes. It was white with pink ballet slippers, no lid. There were baby dolls and Barbie dolls, some old McDonald's toys and notebooks, all empty or mostly empty, with the occasional random, juvenile drawing of a dog or unicorn, and one drawing of three stick figures. Little girls, all with the name ERIN hanging over their differently styled hair. I knew which one was supposed to be me right away. The one with the tangled mess of hair. They were holding hands, smiling. My breath faltered. I remembered when that had happened in real life: the giggles and hand holding. We were best friends back then.

  A clear, plastic storage tub full of three-ring binders caught my attention, and I pulled off the lid as quietly as I could, pulling out the first binder. It was green, with JOURNAL written on the cover in black Sharpie marker in Alder's handwriting.

  I put it down and then picked it back up. I did this several times, each time talking myself out of opening it.

  "These are her thoughts, Erin. Don't you dare," I hissed, snapping the lid back onto the tub. I had to get up early anyway so I could navigate my way over to Weston's and drive carefully to school for the first time. Reading her thoughts would be wrong. Very wrong, and there were so many moral and ethical principles I valued in myself that would be violated on ten different levels if I opened that binder.

  I did it anyway.

  I closed the binder, not wanting to know if it was me she was talking about. The journals were dated all the way back to grade school. My eyebrows pushed up. She had filled all of these binders. All of Erin Alderman's private thoughts were right there for me to know and learn if I wanted. There was a single plastic-covered diary with a silver, broken lock that read MY FIRST DIARY.

  I closed the lid and stood up, turning out the light. Alder's privacy had already been violated, and Sam and Julianne's trust. Guilt pushed me out of her room, back down the hall, and into my bedroom, all the way under my covers.

  After twenty minutes of not being able to settle my thoughts, I looked up at the ceiling fan. Was Alder talking about me? What had I done? Did she mean that Weston was looking at me? Sure
ly not. He'd said once that he'd always liked me, but it didn't occur to me that he actually did. The questions were there, and I wasn't sure if I wanted the answers. There were so many within those pages. I might even find out why the Erins had stopped talking to me.

  I turned over on my side, holding the remote in my hand, wondering if Julianne knew about the journals. They weren't particularly hidden. Maybe Julianne respected Alder's privacy enough that Alder didn't feel like she needed to hide them.

  I closed my eyes, wondering if I was the one Weston was looking at. I had to know. The next time I was alone in the house, I would keep reading until I found out why--why Alder hated me. Why she acted the way she did. And why she hated Blackwell so much when she had it all. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she didn't want it. It was none of my business. I shouldn't read those journals. But my should and want were so polarized, I knew curiosity would win in the end, especially since those answers were something I'd wanted for so long.

  It wasn't until I hit the bottom step that the fatigue hit. Sleep hadn't come easy the night before, and even after I drifted to sleep, I couldn't stay asleep.

  Sam breezed past me toward the kitchen, patting my shoulder.

  "Morning, kiddo. Watch that gas gauge. Oh!" he said, turning on his heels and digging into the front pocket of his slacks, pulling out his wallet. "Use this when you get gas. And if you need anything else. Well...within reason."

  I gently pushed it back. "I have money."

  He held the small silver card out again, insistent. "Your paycheck is spending money. We'll get the rest. Just take it, sweetheart, I'm late."

  After a small pause, I took the card and tried to stick it in the back pocket of my jeans, but they were the new ones Julianne had bought, and the pockets were flapped and buttoned shut. I couldn't figure out which was the button with all the bling covering the fabric, so I shoved it into my front pocket. It would go into my backpack later. Having it at all made me nervous.

  "Thank you," I said.

  Sam winked and rushed to the back door that led to the garage. "Gotta go, honey!"

  "Have a good day!" Julianne called.

  I joined her in the kitchen. "I'm heading out."

  "No breakfast?" she asked, trying not to let the disappointment show. A beautiful omelet was folded perfectly on a white floral plate. A fork on a cloth napkin and a half glass of orange juice sat nearby.