“Ready?” she asked him.
Graham was the boyfriend. I’d been talking to his girlfriend. His very nice, Southern belle, model-like girlfriend. I was going to be sick.
He nodded. “Yeah.” His back was tense, and he stuffed a hand into his pocket. I wondered if she knew that meant he was uncomfortable. He would never show it, or admit it, but there were things Graham did that didn’t need to be said. That was one of them.
The girl smiled at me. “Nice to meet you. Hope you have a good visit.”
Graham stole a glance at me again when she said “visit.” I knew that look was me crushing his dreams again.
“Thanks,” I said. Then they were gone.
Graham had a girlfriend. A girl who probably wouldn’t leave him like I did or ruin him like I could. I pushed my fingers into the granite counter at the receptionist’s counter. He said he wouldn’t wait for me, but I guess deep down I never believed it. I pushed him away. I did this to us, and now he was with someone else. He’d done exactly what he’d promised, and exactly what I’d told him to do. He’d moved on.
I COULDN’T BRING Mom home until the next morning. She had a final therapy session and checkout procedures. Dr. Lambert was insistent that Mom understood and owned the importance of her meds and therapy—and I had a wall to fix.
Henderson’s Hardware was the only local hardware shop, and I wandered through the aisles, trying to figure out what the hell I needed. I didn’t know how to fix a wall. The insurance company wouldn’t cover it, so I needed to do this cheap.
James Henderson appeared beside me. “How can I help you miss—” James paused and his eyes widened with recognition. “Cassie Harlen?”
“It’s me,” I said.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” When I was a freshman in high school, James was fresh out of college then and came home to help out with the family store and to coach the girl’s track team. It was only for a season, because he supposedly hooked up with a senior. I guess, like everyone else, he never left either.
He wasn’t the hot stuff all the girls thought he was in high school. His belly was larger than a basketball. I crossed my arms over my chest, where he was staring intently. He was still creepy at least. “What can I do for you, Cassie?”
“I need to fix a wall.”
He nodded. “I heard about the fire.” There was pity in his voice when he said it.
Of course he’d heard. I was sure the whole town had. “I need to fix it. Can you do it?”
He shook his head. “Afraid I can’t. I got a new construction assignment and I’ll be at the Outer Banks for a month.” James drummed his fingers along the shelf next to me. “Have you asked Mikey Tucker?”
“Who?” James’s eyes widened. Wait... “Graham?”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. Mikey, yea.”
“Why would I ask Graham?”
“He’s been helping out with us for half a year now. Boy’s good with a hammer.”
I shifted and zipped my hoodie nervously. Graham was Mikey now? He worked with a hammer? I didn’t know anything anymore.
“Right,” I said. “I’ll ask Graham.”
James nodded. “I’m sure he’d do it for the extra cash. He’s saving up for that fancy architecture school.” The bell chimed on the door, and James left me. “Excuse me.”
Graham had been working construction. Architecture school. And he had a girlfriend. It seemed I didn’t know him anymore.
13.
Graham
CASSIE WAS SITTING on the steps outside the garage when I got home, and as soon as I saw her, my heart started pounding. How she still made me feel like an awkward lovesick kid I’d never know. She stood when I approached, and I had no idea what she was doing outside my house. I tossed the keys in my hand, and tried to appear calmer than I felt.
“Cass,” I said.
She smiled at me, and crossed her arms around her chest, and I noticed that it was a little low cut. Don’t look at her chest. Look at her eyes.
“Mom’s coming home in the morning. Thanks for going to sign that paper.”
“Good,” I said. “No problem.”
Her eyes were so blue, and I’d forgotten how there were these little flecks of green in them. No, eyes are bad. Look above her head. Anywhere else.
Cassie cleared her throat. “Your girlfriend seems nice.”
“She is,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about Molly with her. Why was she here? Say something to make her go away. “Did you need something?”
She nodded. “I went by the hardware store today.”
“You saw James?”
“Yeah, he got fat. And bald.”
I laughed, said, “He did,” and shoved my hands into my pockets. I saw her eyes focus on my hands tucked away in my pockets, and she stiffened.
“I need to get the wall fixed, and James couldn’t do it.”
Fuck.
“He said you’d been working with him and that I should ask you.” She studied me, like she was trying to figure me out. As if I was a puzzle with no solution, even though that was really her. “He said you applied to school?”
“Rice University in Texas,” I said.
She looked beyond me for a moment, then back at my face. “I know it’s weird if I ask you, and you don’t owe me anything.”
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“Really?”
I nodded. Apparently I was into self-mutilation and torture. That’s why I was saying yes to this. “Sure.”
“Thanks,” she said. She threw her arms around me, and the motion surprised me. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I didn’t pull away. I tried not to inhale her, but I had to know if she smelled the same. She did. I stayed in her hug, trying not feel anything I was feeling. Tried not to wonder about her, if she was happy, if she’d tell me why she left, if I’d ever stop wanting her. Because I wanted her.
I pulled away, and Cass and I stood in an awkward silence. What the hell was wrong with us? We could be adults and have a conversation. I started to speak, but there was nothing. I had no words for her, and the more I stared at her, the more I thought about how it used to be. It made me a little angry, because what used to be was all a lie.
“Really, thanks. I know I don’t deserve this,” she said.
“It’s for Mrs. H,” I said. Cass nodded slightly. In the past, she would have said something snarky to me. She would have at least smacked me for saying something like that, but she wasn’t the same girl. She used to be full of life and energy; what happened to her? She changed when I proposed, and not in a good way. But now, this girl, she seemed even more lost than that one. “I’ll come over in the morning and start. It should take a week.”
“Great,” she said.
I nodded and went past her toward my door. Go inside, Tucker. Being around her with all these things I haven’t said was too hard. And now I would see her every day. I’m a smart one. The key clicked in the door and Cassie said my name. From the doorway, she stood in the middle of the space between our yards where half the fence laid in pieces, and pointed.
“What happened to the fence?”
I’d smashed the fence. Each time I was outside, I saw her there on that fence. Just like the day I’d met her when she was nine with a braid in her hair, red cowboy boots, asking why I’d moved here. That was where I’d kissed her for the first time, years later, mid-fight about her date with Jonas McCoy. She’d told me to stay on my side because I was immature, and I’d told her she was exhausting.
“My life isn’t yours to command, Michael!” she’d yelled.
“Oh, I’m Michael now, huh?”
“When you’re being an asshole—yes!”
And I’d kissed her. I’d hadn’t been thinking about, it wasn’t pre-planned—I’d just wanted her. After suffering through her date with Jonas McCoy, I couldn’t handle her being with someone else. She was annoying as hell, and always thought she was right, but Cassie Harlen had claimed me in that spot six years before. I’d been h
ers ever since and she’d been mine, and I wasn’t willing to lose her to Jonas McCoy.
When she left, I had to tear it down. I couldn’t sleep that week after I’d gone to Indiana. I hadn’t really slept well since. I kept seeing her face as she’d slid the ring back into my pocket. She was gone, but she’d still been all over Lumberton. Everyone knew her, knew us. Everything reminded me of her. The whole town was Cassie. Everyone asked me where she was, why I wasn’t with her, and I had to lie over and over. That fence was the only thing I could destroy. Piece by piece, because it had to feel my pain. I’d taken an axe to it in the middle of the night, and I’d chopped until one piece of it tumbled to the ground.
Every night for a week it was all I’d done.
Then one morning I’d woken up and half the fence was in shambles, and it didn’t hurt anymore.
“Big storm,” I said. She crossed her arms again, but I didn’t stay to let her ask any other questions.
14.
Cassie
MOM HUGGED ME again before we went inside the house and I patted her back. All this affection was different for us. Words weaved together in my head: Too many things // I can’t think to say // can’t help but feel // can’t understand // like why and how and if // and when // all of this will start to mend
“Is that Graham?” Mom asked, pushing past me. The sound of the saw echoed through the house. I took a deep breath, and walked inside.
Graham had on this white sleeveless undershirt and it lay across all the new muscles on his body. I stopped to watch him, because I had to. Even though it hurt. I needed the pain to remind myself that I let him go. Everything inside me wanted to touch him again, to apologize about what happened eleven months ago. To explain. But I didn’t want to ruin what he’d built. This was what I’d wanted for him all along—a life without my baggage. Now he had it, and he was better off. I’d made a mistake by hugging him yesterday—I wasn’t thinking—but it wouldn’t happen again.
“Hey,” Graham said over his shoulder. His eyes peered into me and I froze. How could he do that with only a look? Mom turned on the record player and blared some Elton John through the house. Graham and I both looked back toward the foyer, and Mom stood in the doorway with a smile.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Cassie,” she said. Then, she disappeared up the stairs leaving me standing with Graham. I couldn’t believe how unsure I was in front of this Graham. He was a new Graham, just like I was a new Cassie. He was stronger and surer of himself. He had a plan and dreams. The Graham I knew never had plans that didn’t include me, that didn’t have a future with us. Which was why you let him go.
Graham looked up at me suddenly, as if he’d felt me looking. We held each other’s gaze across the room, and I was afraid to breathe in case he broke our gazes. He didn’t until my phone rang.
“You haven’t disappeared,” June said when I answered.
“Not yet. I’m still intact. Mostly.”
I glanced back at Graham, who was busy at work now, and walked upstairs as June rambled on. It was better if I wasn’t near him.
“That’s good. Three days in and it would be sucky to know you’d already dissolved,” she exhaled. Probably smoking. “You aren’t missing shit here by the way. I wish I could skip finals like you.”
“I still have to take them,” I said.
June said hi to someone she passed on the sidewalk, and I sat on my bed, tracing the outline of the circles on my comforter.
“I ran into Rohan yesterday. The band will be on tour all summer, and I guess a label made an offer.”
Rohan’s life improved when I left too. “It’s been three days.”
“They really loved them.”
“Wow,” I said, playing with the embroidery on my bedspread. “Good for him.”
“Has he called you?” she asked, her voice low.
“No,” I lied. I hadn’t answered any of Rohan’s calls either. He’d left a lot of messages; his last one made it clear that we were over, and that I shouldn’t call.
“I’m glad you’re alive. No disappearing, Harlen.”
“Promise,” I said. But I wasn’t sure I could keep that. Talking to June reminded me of what I wasted. Again.
“I have to go to biology. I can’t wait for fucking summer.” Then she hung up, and I was left standing around in my room, the sound of a saw humming between notes of “Tiny Dancer.”
“Time for your meds,” I said to Mom as I put lunch in the oven. Graham was still in the living room working on the wall. Mom groaned.
“I hate this stuff,” she said.
“You tried to burn the house down,” I said.
“I didn’t do that on purpose! Why does everyone keep saying that?” she yelled, and Graham stop hammering. I didn’t want us to put on a show for him. Or for him to worry. This wasn’t his problem.
“It’s what happened; whatever your intentions. You have to take your meds, you know that.”
Mom reached out and stroked my hair. “Remember when you were little, Cassie? We used to drive to the beach and spend the whole day there, you and me. Remember?”
I clenched my jaw. “I remember.”
“We should do it again. Let’s go the beach, Cassie.”
I shook my head. “Mom, take your medicine.”
She ignored me, and looked past me into the distance. I could still see it all, and I knew she could too. “There was a little shop we used to go to and we’d have ice cream. I bet it’s still there—”
“Mom—” I started to walk away, because I could feel a bunch of stuff flashing through my head. All the moments I clung to from the pretty days, and all the ones I didn’t want to remember on the ugly ones.
Mom held on to my hand and kept me in place. “We should go again, Cassie, have one of those great days.”
I snapped. “You know what I remember about those days? I remember we’d come home and I’d wake up in the morning because you were bawling or too depressed to get out of bed. And I remember missing school for days because I had to take care of you.” Mom didn’t move, but I couldn’t stop all the wounds from bleeding out now that I’d opened them.
I was six when she’d lost me at the circus; eight at my school play she didn’t come to; twelve at the movies where she forgot me; fifteen when I found her in the middle of the night in the bathtub, nearly drowning in her own bloody water and I called Graham at three in the morning, barely able to form words. He’d held me while his dad drove us to the hospital, and sat with me while we waited to see if she would live or die. He waited all through the night, and into the next morning, and missed school to be with me when we found out my mom was bipolar. He’d never let go of my hand.
“And all the times I didn’t know if you were going to live. That’s what I remember about those days.” Mom looked horrified and dropped my hand. I pushed the pills toward her again. “So, take your pill.”
There were no sounds from the living room. Which meant he was listening. He knew a lot of this, he was here for it, but we’d never really talked about it. I’d never wanted to. Mom took the pill and kissed my cheek, and when she walked away, I glanced at Graham. He leaned against the beam he’d fixed and looked in my direction. He seemed sad, and I wondered if he remembered it, too. I would’ve never made it through those times without him.
15.
Graham
THREE DAYS LATER and the wall had new support beams. All that was left was insulation, dry wall, and paint. Maybe two days of work and then I wouldn’t have to be in this house with them all day. It wasn’t bad, but I was living a fantasy, and I knew it was only a matter of time before all the walls came crashing down again. Walls that I didn’t want to have to fix.
I hadn’t really spoken to Cass much. I came in, did my work, and left. She had never told me about all the episodes with her mom. I remembered things, too. Sometimes she wouldn’t show up for class, and when I’d get home from school, I’d watch her house from my window to make sure lights were on. The
car would be gone, and they’d come home in the middle of the night or the next day. She never talked to me about any of it, but I’d known things were happening with her mom. She hadn’t wanted me to tell, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Or lose her.
My phone dinged. A text from Molly about dinner tonight. I responded and glanced back up when Joyce squealed. “I love this song!” She yelled as she turned up Dean Martin.
Cass smiled too from her place in the kitchen, and they both started singing along. I was intruding. Then Mrs. H called my name and said, “You do the chorus.”
“I’m working,” I said, but the smile was on my face anyway. Cass smiled, too. Probably the first real smile that I’d seen in days. I’d missed her smile, that smile, the one that lit up a room.
“Come on, Graham Cracker—you know this one! I know you do,” Mrs. H said.
They were both quiet as the notes before the chorus grew stronger. “Get ready!” Mrs. H yelled.
I shook my head, but what the hell? I sang the chorus as loud as I could, like we used to do when life with them was normal for me. Joyce clapped when I started, and by the end we were all singing it as if nothing had changed. And maybe it was wrong of me, but I pretended along with them.
The music swept us away and I danced around the room with Joyce. I didn’t think, just moved, and Joyce passed me off to Cass. Somewhere in the laughter and the dancing and the beat, the song changed. No more swing, and instead the soft swoon of Sinatra.
Cass didn’t try to leave my arms, and her being there was so right, so perfect, that I didn’t make her. I stayed. She stayed, and she was pressed against my chest so that I could feel her heart beating next to mine. Her breath was on my neck as she hummed the song close to my ear. It sent shivers down my spine, and I should’ve stopped it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I knew what would happen when Cass got comfortable: she’d let her guard down.
Days Like This Page 6
