“Goodnight,” she said. Her voice was low, and she bit the side of her cheek again. Part of me wanted to ask her what was wrong, but I knew the answer. I knew it was me, it was here, it was all the things she hated in one place. The sad part was I used to be the one thing that made her happy. Or so I’d thought.
“Graham,” she called. I inhaled and turned back to face her. Her hair was new, but she stood in that room like she fit there. Even though the paint was different and we were different and so much time had passed, she still belonged there. And it was damn annoying because it was the one place she didn’t want to belong. “Thank you.”
I waved her off. “The room was all Mom.”
She shook her head slightly. “For my mom. For being here to help. For the call.”
The only thing I could think of to say was “someone had to do it” but I didn’t want to see her face when I said it. So, I nodded and walked out the back door.
I WAS AFTER orange juice. It was a few minutes past 7 a.m. and I was going to go into the kitchen, get the juice, and get out. But Mom was already up and behind the stove. A stack of pancakes was forming beside her, and I thought twice about going inside. If she saw me, she would plan for me to stay, too. I couldn’t eat pancakes across from Cass and my mom and pretend everything was normal when it wasn’t. Mom probably wanted me to, especially since Dad left this morning for Japan, but I couldn’t. I’d have to tell her the truth eventually, I guessed, about why we weren’t together.
“Graham, you can come inside,” she yelled out the window.
“I only need orange juice,” I said, closing the door behind me.
Mom huffed. “I’m making pancakes.”
“I see that.”
“Blackberry—those were always Cassie’s favorite, remember?”
I’d never forget. Cass stayed over once when I was seventeen, and my parents were in New York City visiting my brother, Timothy; we woke up to a batch of blackberry pancakes and my parents sitting at the table. “I made your favorite, Cassie,” Mom had said. Cassie had on my clothes and hair all over the place. A whole weekend of teenage drinking and sex will do that. I thought for sure they would say something else, and I already had three escape routes planned in my head, but they didn’t. Instead, Cassie’d said, “Thank you,” and we all ate breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world. Later, I’d heard all about having her over here, and using protection, and pregnancy—the whole thing.
“I remember, Mom,” I said. She laughed a little, but didn’t turn around. I grabbed the orange juice out of the fridge. “I can’t stay though.”
“Why not?”
“Have to go to the site.”
“I thought they finished up the day of the fire?”
Crap. “About that fire—Cassie doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what?”
I took a sip of the juice but Mom stared me down. “That it was me who saved Mrs. H. I told her Mrs. Pearson called 911.”
Mom put her hand on her hip, looked at me like I was insane, and held her spatula in the air with the other hand. “You lied to her?”
“I didn’t want her to know it was me,” I said, sitting down.
Mom shook her head. She wouldn’t understand why, not if I didn’t tell her the truth. The skillet sizzled as she flipped the pancake over. “This is a small town, Graham—you can’t expect to keep something like that a secret. They wrote an article about it, for goodness sake.”
“She won’t read the paper, Ma. I don’t want her to know—promise me you won’t say anything. And that Dad won’t say anything if she’s here when he comes back.”
“What if Joyce does? Or Sheila? Or Dr. Lambert?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about them. Please promise me.”
“Whatever for?” She snapped around to me, and I lowered my forehead against the table. I didn’t want to explain all this right now. “Graham, you’ve got to give me more than that. Tell me why you’re lying—and why you want me to lie—to the girl who used to be a permanent fixture in this house and is now sleeping in the guest room after disappearing for almost a year without a single peep. You’re keeping something from me.”
“It’s complicated.”
Mom grew quiet. “You two didn’t get into some sort of trouble before she left did you? You were safe?”
“God, Mom,” I said, moving from the table. “It’s a little too late now for that kind of quest—”
“Answer me, Michael Graham Tucker.”
“Yes, ma’am, we were safe! This has nothing to do with that. I would rather you didn’t tell her.”
The door creaked open from across the hall, and we both stopped talking. Cassie appeared in the doorway, and Mom smiled as big as she could. I turned away and pretended to pour myself some orange juice, even though my glass was full. I hoped she didn’t hear any of that.
“Morning, honey. Want some coffee?”
Cassie smiled back. “Morning, Mrs. Tucker. That would be great.”
“I’m making breakfast,” Mom said. “Get yourself cleaned up and it should be ready.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said. I didn’t turn around until I heard the door click into place.
Mom leaned against the counter so I could see her face. “So complicated that you don’t even want to look at her?”
I nodded. “Promise me.”
“Fine,” she said. She stepped back to the stove, but I knew this conversation was far from over. “At least take a couple pancakes with you before you go.”
I kissed her cheek and bolted out the door before she could change her mind.
10.
Cassie
I’D ALWAYS HOPED I would never have to re-enter the doors of St. Joseph’s Memorial Hospital. It was a silly thing to dream, because there I was. Again. None of it had changed. Not the paint or the noise or the smell that really had no smell at all.
Evidence that life moved on // was everywhere but here // written in the stars // on your face // in my heart
“There’s our girl,” Sheila said as she wrapped me into a hug and pulled me from my thoughts. “Graham said yesterday you would be here.”
“Graham was here?”
“He came every day.” Every day? She pushed me away and studied me up and down. “Look at you! College must be good for you!”
I smiled. “Sometimes. Can you let Dr. Lambert know I’m here?”
“Can do. You want to see your mom? She’s okay today, but I think you’ll be a good fix.”
I nodded, but no. I didn’t want to see my mom. What would I say after eleven months? “Sorry I abandoned you but I couldn’t handle it anymore. I’m like the man who swore to love you and then left you. Left us.”
MOM RESTED IN the poor excuse for the rec room in this old floral armchair. I froze at the end of the hallway, trying to find the nerve to move toward her. She looked fragile and pale under the harsh lighting. Her hair was long again, a dusty shade of dark brown, instead of the purple streaks she had the last time I saw her. She dyed it on one of her bad days—the same day that Graham proposed to me. I went to talk to her and dye was all over her clothes; she must have spilled it before she broke down on the floor. That day was bad. I had to pretend that I wasn’t Cassie. I was someone else, and I’d told her Cassie was asleep, so she didn’t freak out; I had to listen when she cried for me to bring my father back to her, to help her keep him.
Mom turned, and I watched as her face changed from boredom to happiness as she saw me. The smile spread across her face, bringing out the lines around her eyes. Mom was out of her chair before I could blink. She flung herself into my arms and squeezed. Even in the staleness of the hospital, I could smell the faint scent of honey soap, and with her arms wrapped around me, I was like a kid again with a mom who wasn’t sick. A kid who scraped her knee or got a bee-sting and had a mom to cling to. Before I became the one she clung to instead. I almost didn’t want her to let go.
“Cassidee,” she w
hispered in my ear. “You’re really here? I’m not dreaming.”
I swallowed. “Not a dream.”
She ran her hand across my face. “You hair is short, and dark.”
“You like it?”
Mom dragged me toward a seat on the other side of the room, telling some of the other patients that I was her daughter, and lowered us both down onto a couch. “I love it! I think this is the style you’ve been missing all your life,” she said. She seemed happy to see me. This was more than the meds and more than a pretty day and more than being gone for so long. This was genuine. She started rambling about how she should do her hair the same way, and I grabbed her arm.
“You’re okay now?”
She waved me off. “Of course I am. You didn’t have to leave school for me. You should be there. I’m sure you have a lot of classes.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m almost done. I’ll finish everything from home. I’m here now.”
Mom nodded. “Good. Can we go home? I’m ready for some real food.”
“I have to meet Dr. Lambert. It’s up to her when you can go.”
Mom squeezed my hand, and I patted the top of hers with my other one. Mom nearly burned the house down and now she acted like I held the key to all her happiness. Once again her life was wrapped up in mine, and I wondered what else me leaving did to her. I wondered what it’d done to Graham.
DR. LAMBERT FOCUSED her stern gaze on me. “You’re sure that you are up for this?”
I nodded. “I’ve been dealing with her bipolar disorder all my life.”
“I’m aware. I’m also aware of our last conversation nearly a year ago,” she said, looking at me over a pair of glasses. The last time I was in her office I’d been worried that I was bipolar. I’d felt like I’d been slipping, like I’d lost some of my own sensibility. She said it was anxiety. She’d said that sometimes, when people are dealing with someone who’s sick, they feel like they have those same qualities, and that I should do something for myself. I said I had to stay—for Mom and for Graham—and she helped me see I was wrong. Then he proposed, and Mom had an episode, and I left.
“You left school to be here?” she asked.
I shifted in the chair. It was strange talking to her behind a desk. “I only have finals. They arranged for me to do them remotely. I can help out here and then go back to school or whatever I need to do.”
She didn’t seem to believe me. I didn’t even know if I believed me. I didn’t even know what I needed to do or wanted to do.
“What are you pursuing in school?” Dr. Lambert asked.
I didn’t have an answer. Something, nothing, no idea. I didn’t want to get into all of that with Dr. Lambert. I wanted to get Mom and go. “I’m undeclared. When can we go?”
“Come back tomorrow, and I’ll draw up the papers. Graham will need to come in, since he admitted her. We’ll call him,” she said. I nodded. “She has to be here twice a week for a session with me. She has to take her meds. If she doesn’t commit to helping herself, then we’ll have to re-evaluate.”
“Thanks,” I said. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
11.
Graham
I LOGGED INTO my account at Rice University’s website. Any day now I could be taken off the wait-list for the undergrad program for architecture. After two years of general education courses at home, it was time to move on, and Rice was my number one. If I got in. I applied to five of the country’s top ten schools, and so far, I’d only received a response from two. I was accepted into Iowa State, but not to the University of Texas. I scrolled down the site on my phone—no news yet.
“Your shake,” Molly said as she handed me a protein shake and took a seat next to me. She reached a hand over the table to rest on mine, a smile on her face. She pushed a piece of blonde hair behind her ear and in a flash it wasn’t her I was staring at. It was Cass.
Cass before she left, when her hair was long and her face was still bright and hopeful. We sat here, like this, me with an orange juice and her with a cup of tea. She held my hand over the table, and the ring I had just given her sparkled under the sun.
“We should tell your mom,” I’d said.
She’d nodded. “I’d like to do it by myself. If that’s okay? Tell her and then your parents.”
And I said yes because I didn’t know she would leave me to go there and never come back.
“You okay?” Molly asked. Her nose got this crinkled spot at the top of it when she was worried, and it was there now. “Is it your neighbor who’s in the hospital?”
I shook my head. “My neighbor” was all I’d told Molly that Mrs. H was. I don’t know if she knew Mrs. H was Cassie’s mom—she knew about Cassie, but I’d never connected the dots or filled in the pieces. I didn’t know how. The truth of everything was too complicated. “I was checking in on Rice. Nothing yet.”
Molly leaned up on the table on her elbows. Her face was happy, and there was something about this girl that was so completely free and motivated. I hadn’t met anyone like her in a long time. Cassie was like that once. “You’ll get in, and you’ll take the world by storm with your buildings.”
“If I don’t?”
Molly shrugged. “There’s always Iowa State. You’ve been talking about this since I met you, and I think when people want something bad enough, they make it happen.”
“That’s a good way to view life.”
“It’s too short to do it any other way,” she said. Something sad flashed across her face, but it was gone. I knew she had something in her past that haunted her, but she never brought it up. Molly moved toward me. She was so pretty, generous and positive. I was lucky to have her. She was solid. I needed solid.
Molly lowered herself into my lap, one leg on each side of me, and wrapped her hands around my neck. Her fingers trailed at the ends of my hair. I wondered if this was a weird place to make out. Right outside The Good Drip seemed a little out there. But then, she smiled and I kissed her and it didn’t matter anymore.
MOLLY HELD MY hand as we walked from the car toward the doors of St. Joseph’s. I didn’t want her to come, not really, but I couldn’t tell her that. She was being supportive, and even though I was only coming to sign a paper, it was good that she wanted to be here. That she seemed to care about me and what I needed.
“You’ve really been to sixteen countries?” I asked Molly as the hospital doors opened. I’d never left the country. We moved here as a kid and I was content to stay, mostly because Cass was here.
She nodded. “I started junior year of high school. The Model UN Club took a trip to Paris. I’d never been out of Atlanta before and I loved it.”
“Model UN, huh?”
She laughed. “I went to South Africa that summer with an organization that let teens travel to help the underprivileged. Senior year I went to China, and saved all my money to backpack across Europe after graduation. Twelve weeks in Europe. I go every semester during school, too—anywhere I can. My sister loved to travel, so I wanted to go to her favorite places, and it helps me build my resume for Doctors Without Borders.”
Molly was amazing. I knew how passionate she was about medicine. She wanted to do Doctors Without Borders as a nurse. She had a path, too, and I knew she would make it happen. I kissed her forehead right before the elevator doors opened. Dr. Lambert’s office was directly across from the elevator, and the waiting room was empty. Molly took a seat as I approached the receptionist.
“I’m here to sign a release,” I said. After a few minutes of trying, the receptionist found it and escorted me in through the door to the back of the office. I glanced at Molly, who only smiled back at me, and I felt a huge weight on me when I left the room.
12.
Cassie
I CAME OUT of Dr. Lambert’s office and the receptionist wasn’t sitting at her desk. The only person in the office was a pretty blonde girl on the other side of the room. I waited at the counter and looked at the clock. I wanted to get Mo
m and get out of there.
“She should be back soon,” the girl said. She had a sweet, Southern accent. It’d been a while since I’d heard one that silky.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“I love your hair,” she said.
I smiled at her. Today was the June specialty. After I chopped it off, June showed me how to put gel it in it to make the back stick out like a porcupine. The front laid straight down my cheek where it was longer, and it took forever to do, but it always looked good. I lowered myself into a seat across from the girl. We waited in awkward silence for a few minutes. The only noise around us a ringing phone, the hum of the air conditioner and a ticking clock.
“Do you live here? I’ve never seen you before,” she asked.
I shrugged. “I used to. I’m visiting now. You?”
“I go to Francis Marion.”
“Why are you in Lumberton? There’s nothing here.”
She smiled. “My aunt lives here so I visit a lot. The rest of my family’s in Georgia, so she’s the closest person. My boyfriend is here, too…”
The girl trailed off, like that last sentence explained everything. I still didn’t get why someone would choose to spend time here. I’d never liked this boring town that much. That was the first thing I’d told Graham when he moved in, that this place was full of old, boring people.
“Where are you visiting from?” she asked.
“I go to Butler University in Indianapolis.”
“Wow. That’s quite a change,” she said. “Do you like it?”
I studied the space above her. “I love it,” I said. But the words didn’t feel real. I wanted to love it, I thought I would, but really, it was nothing that I wanted. What I wanted was here, but even that I wasn’t sure about anymore. I think I’d hurt Graham more than I could’ve imagined. Some things that were broken couldn’t be fixed.
The receptionist appeared back at her desk, and when the side door opened, Graham appeared. My breath hitched, and words crept their way up through my throat. His eyes steadied in on me and he seemed surprised, and then his gaze drifted toward the girl across the room—who stood up—and back at me. He didn’t move, but she did. Toward him.
Days Like This Page 5
