by Meg Leder
“And still living in our house!” Dad snaps.
“Listen,” Charlie starts.
“No, you listen. If you can’t take care of your new health, the health we have all worked so hard for—”
Mom cuts them both off. “Charlie, we just don’t understand why you’d be so irresponsible. I really thought that with remission and the strides you were making with therapy, things were better. But I’m with Dad on this. If you can’t act like an adult, we can’t treat you like one.”
“But how will I see Ruby?” he asks, desperation making his voice break.
I can’t listen to this anymore.
Guilt moves over me in a cold sweat, and I stand, hugging myself hard, and go to my room, carefully shutting the door.
Oblivious to the family drama, Mustard hops down from the window, letting out a sassy chirp, and jumps up on my lap. I grab my laptop and reread the e-mail sitting in my in-box, the one I’ve left unanswered for the past five days.
Park, where are you? I miss you and I’m so sorry again.
oxo, em
I wonder how this summer would have unfolded if Em were in town, if I hadn’t quit the internship, if I’d never discovered Carla’s, if I hadn’t become friends with Ruby, if I hadn’t let myself trust Finn, if Charlie hadn’t just sacrificed his new happiness to keep my secret for me.
I wonder what would happen if I let the secret free.
I don’t know what to do.
I miss Em so much right now, it’s a physical ache. I wish she were sitting next to me on the bed, a bag of M&M’s between us, and I could tell her everything. She’d know what to do.
But then I hear a voice: You have to tell them.
I swallow hard, digging my nails into my palms.
It’s not Em’s voice. It’s mine.
Yeah, Em and Ruby have been telling me it the whole summer. But I realize, sitting there, that in light of Charlie’s sacrifice, of Finn’s secrets, I’m finally discovering a voice of my own, the words I want to say.
I need to tell my parents.
And I’m going to have to tell them everything.
The realization makes me feel a little nauseated, and I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do it just yet, so instead I pick up my phone and text my best friend.
Remember when you told me to call if I needed you? I need you. Can I call you? I’ll get the charges.
Immediately, the three dots appear.
Yes, sitting by the Seine, so timing is perfect. But even if the timing wasn’t perfect, you can call me anytime, Park.
“Em?” I ask tentatively as she picks up.
“Park.” I can hear the sound of laughter behind her, the gentle lilt of French accents. “Oh, I have missed you so much. You have no idea,” she says.
Relief floods through me at hearing her voice, and I stretch back on my bed, letting my feet dangle over the edge. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend she’s right there next to me, her curls spread wild on the bedspread, both of us talking so much we forget to stop.
“Me too. How’s Paris?”
“I could talk about the cheese sandwich I had this morning for about five hours. It’s beautiful here, and I’m probably going to gain at least ten pounds before I leave. But that’s not why you called. Park, what’s going on?”
I close my eyes. “You were right.”
“Right about what?”
“About being a doctor. I don’t want to be a doctor. I don’t want to go to Harvard.”
She lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s no joke, Park.”
“And, Em, I was mad at you. But only because you were right. I just wasn’t ready to hear it. I’m really sorry.”
“You were going through a lot. I get it,” she says.
“You always get it before I do,” I say. “How do you do that?”
She laughs.
“I’m serious. For all these years, you’ve gotten me better than I’ve gotten myself. It’s like you translate me to the world, you know?”
“It sounds like you have a pretty good sense of yourself right now all on your own, Park.”
“I need to thank you,” I say. “You did a hard, hard thing by calling me on the internship and the doctor stuff. You said something I didn’t want to hear because you love me, and then you gave me the space to listen, to finally get it on my own. Thank you.”
I’m pretty sure I hear Em sniff on the other end.
“Also, I have to apologize. I was being a total . . .” I scramble for the right Ruby-esque phrase. “I was being a total, full-fledged, one hundred percent certified asshat.”
She sniffs and giggles again. “Wow. That’s one way to put it.”
“Are we okay?”
“We’re always okay, no matter how much of a certified asshat you’re being.”
I want to hug her so badly right then.
“Just a second. Matty is hollering at me that we’re going to miss our nighttime Paris canal tour. Let me tell him I’ll skip it.”
“No, it’s okay. We can catch up on e-mail.”
“You promise to tell me everything?”
“I do.”
“I mean it. Everything.”
“I promise. Love you, Em. Tell Matty I say hi.”
“Love you too, Park.”
I hang up but keep the phone in my hands.
I realize what a gift Em’s given me, telling me I shouldn’t keep my internship decision a secret, but also letting me make my own way through it, nudging me to the edge but never pushing me over, letting me figure out myself when I was ready to test my wings.
And weirdly enough, even though it seemed like blackmail at the time, Charlie did too: He never told.
I don’t know how I can ever pay them back, but with Charlie, at least, I have an idea.
There’s still time to make things right.
For a second I wonder if I should do that with Finn, too, if I should keep his secrets about his brother like he asked.
But for the first time in my life, I can see the difference. I should have tried to have an honest conversation with Charlie after the party this summer instead of just going straight to our parents. I shouldn’t have taken that choice away from him so quickly, not when he’s already had so many choices taken from him. But now I know that there are times to nudge and trust and hope, and then there are times when someone’s holding so many heavy things inside them—bruised skin and splintered ribs and broken wings—they can’t fly on their own yet.
They need someone else to be brave for them.
I swallow hard, scrolling through my contacts, then hit dial.
Carla picks up right away, the sound of the art fair still buzzing in the background.
“Parker, what’s going on? How’s Charlie?” she asks.
“He’s good. He’s safe. But, Carla, it wasn’t Charlie who was hurt.”
I pause, knowing not only that what I say next will scare Carla, but that it will make Finn furious, that even though I kept his superhero secret, this secret is one I can’t keep.
I’m pretty sure I will lose him for good after this.
But if losing him means saving him, I’ll do it. I’ll do it a thousand times over.
I take a deep breath. “Finn’s in trouble. He needs help, Carla. More than I can give him. I should have known. I should have figured it out.”
I hear her suck in her breath, then a worried exhale.
“Tell me everything.”
Fifty-Five
AFTER THE CALL WITH Carla, I find my family in the kitchen.
Dad’s got his arms folded across his chest, looking like he’s doing everything he can not to combust.
Mom’s got streaks on her face, like she’s been crying.
Charlie’s getting up from the table. He looks sadder than I’ve seen him in ages. But he also looks resigned. And it’s the resignation that breaks my heart, that lets me know I’m doing the right thing.
I don’t want him giving up his new life, the one he’s wo
rking so hard to earn, not when it’s time to start finally owning my own.
“I have to talk to you guys,” I say.
All three of them look at me.
For a second I falter, and the bad feelings start: my heart speeding up, heavy and intense, the sound around me becoming extra keen, my palms sweating, my head dizzy.
This is the last second my parents will look at me with absolute trust, the last second I can be the daughter who’s going to be a doctor, the girl who makes everything right.
But then, just like the roller coaster, the moment before the drop, Charlie’s hand on mine, I hear the words again.
I got you.
They make me brave.
He looks at me, understanding dawning on his face. “Parker, you don’t have to do this.”
I give him a small smile, shaking my head slowly. “I got you, Charlie.” And then I turn toward our parents. “Charlie wasn’t drinking and driving or any of that.”
“What?” Mom says, looking quickly between the two of us. Dad frowns.
“He just said that to cover for me.”
“Why would he need to cover for you?” Dad asks.
“Because that girl at the hospital, that girl who stopped by? She was close to telling you guys my secret. Which is . . .” I take a deep breath. “I quit my internship.”
Mom looks confused. “What did you say?”
“I quit the internship. At the hospital. I’m not doing it.”
“That can’t be right. I’m sure you can go back. You can call them on Monday.”
“I quit at the beginning of the summer,” I say. “I didn’t like it.”
“Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?” Dad asks.
“No,” I say.
“What are you going to tell Harvard?” he demands. “Are you going to tell them you ‘didn’t like it’? This isn’t how the adult world works, Parker.”
“I know.”
Charlie moves closer to me, standing next to me, and just having him there makes me stronger.
“This is because of that Casper boy, right?”
“Phil,” Mom says, trying to cut him off.
“No. It’s not because of Finn,” I insist.
“Well, then why are you throwing this away? Do you know how many people would kill to be given the opportunities in life that you’ve been given? Your brother’s one of them.”
I suck in my breath. “I’m not throwing it away.”
Dad turns to Mom like he can’t even bear to look at me one second longer. “It was nice for a while, not having to worry about the future of one kid, you know? But I guess that’s too much to ask for.”
“Now, Phil,” Mom starts. “Maybe we can fix this. I can call Dr. Travis’s office and see if they know of any internships or office jobs for Parker.”
I tune her words out, thinking about the last time Dad was this mad at me, that day all those years ago when I told him I wished Charlie was dead.
He had just given up the writing career he loved to better take care of his family.
He was exhausted from the traffic.
He was probably really, really worried about Charlie.
Meanwhile, I was only a kid.
A selfish, bratty kid.
A hungry and tired and confused kid.
A kid whose heart was breaking for her brother.
Charlie didn’t ask for cancer, but neither did I.
I shake my head. “No,” I say.
“What’d you say, Parker?” Dad asks, turning to me, furious.
When I said sorry all those years ago, Dad said: That’s not enough!
He was blinking back tears. I remember that, too.
“No,” I say more loudly.
I can’t save Charlie. I never could. None of us can. All we can do is try to be there for one another, loving each other the best we can in the process.
“I don’t want to be a doctor.”
“Jesus,” Dad mutters, and Mom blanches. She leans forward, touching his arm. “There are a lot of other majors at Harvard—maybe Parker could try a few other things out.”
“I don’t want to go to Harvard. I don’t want to be a doctor, and I don’t want to go to Harvard,” I say.
Dad’s face falls, and I see the disappointment. It’s palpable, what I’m taking from him right now. But I can’t. I shake my head. “I need to figure out who I’m going to be. And I can’t do that at Harvard.”
Charlie squeezes my shoulder then, quickly.
“Parker,” Dad says, trying to regain control. “Let’s talk about this. You’ve always wanted to be a doctor.”
I muster up all the bravery and honesty inside me, and I feel it then, helium moving through my veins, as light as eyelashes you wish on, as light as relief, even as my feet are on the ground, gravity steadying me, balancing me. “No. I just didn’t want you guys to worry when Charlie was sick. My body’s been telling me this for the past three months, and I need to listen. I can’t do it. I won’t. And I’m sorry if you won’t support me in that, but it doesn’t change anything.”
“Oh, Parker. I wish you could have told us all this before now.” Mom sounds so disappointed in me; my eyes start to water. But then she stands, pulling me into a hug, and my arms go slack with the relief of it. “But I’m glad you finally did. We’ll get through this.”
When she lets go, I look over at Dad, but he won’t meet my eyes. Mom sees, and loops her arm around Charlie’s waist. “Let’s go outside, you and me, and talk some more, okay?”
“You going to be okay?” Charlie asks me.
“Yeah, as much as I can be,” I say.
He nods, following Mom, leaving Dad and me alone.
I pull up the chair next to him, sit down. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I just don’t understand why you’re insisting on throwing away everything,” he says, shaking his head.
I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to say what I want to say next. “Dad, a few weeks ago, Ruby asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, before I wanted to be a doctor.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“I told her I wanted to be you when I grew up.”
He stills.
“I remember you coming home with new music, I guess from bands you were writing about? You’d get out your old record player and put on the vinyl album and turn up the volume so loud, the entire living room would vibrate. And Charlie and I would dance, and Mom would tell you to turn it down, but she never really meant it.”
Dad’s whole body sighs.
“I didn’t know exactly what you did back then. I think I was too little to totally get it. But I could tell you were happy. And I just figured that’s who I wanted to be when I grew up—someone who was happy. But, Dad, being a doctor? That’s not it.”
He closes his eyes for a second, then rests his head in his hands. I angle myself closer, put my arm around his shoulder.
“I know you gave up your writing to take care of Charlie and me and Mom. I can’t imagine how hard that was. That was such a brave thing to do. But, Dad, Charlie doesn’t need me to take care of him anymore. He doesn’t need saving. Right now it’s time for me to save myself.”
I realize that I’m crying, but then Dad looks over at me and hugs me hard.
I let myself rest in his arms, not knowing if I’ve finally said the right words, but realizing it doesn’t matter, because I’ve finally said the true ones.
Fifty-Six
“THE HOWRYS ARE HOSTING the euchre tournament tonight,” Dad says. “But we should be home by ten.”
“What are you guys up to tonight?” Mom asks.
“Game of Thrones marathon with Ruby,” I say.
“Tell her we say hi,” Dad adds.
“Will do,” Charlie replies, grabbing another slice of pizza.
“Have fun,” I call out as they leave.
As soon as the garage door shuts, Charlie turns to me, chewing while he talks. “It’s still weird, right?”<
br />
I nod.
It’s been three and a half weeks since all hell broke loose.
In an effort to move forward, we’re all trying out what our family therapist calls “radical transparency” and what Charlie calls “telling everyone everything all the time.” This translates into a lot of detailed updates from all of us on what we’re doing and thinking at pretty much every hour of the day.
But even though we complain about it, the results haven’t been terrible.
For the first time ever, Mom’s talking about teaching. Right now her current batch of students is making her wish she’d “never gone into education.” I don’t think she’s quite used to unloading about her day on us, but the second time she did, Charlie offered for him and me to make dinner so she could relax for a little bit, and Mom was so happy, she teared up.
Dad’s still disappointed about Harvard, but he’s stopped calling me Dr. McCullough, and he made a point of getting down some of his old clips the other day, showing me his first published music review from his high school newspaper. And earlier this week, he mentioned how he’s been waiting for a new album by the National to come out, which resulted in the two of us taking a trip together to Shake It Records to meet the band at the release party last night. I can’t think of the last time just Dad and I hung out together in the world. It felt good.
As for me, I’m working on not lying. It seems strange to tell my parents that I’m spending the afternoon with Carla composing a grant application, even stranger to tell them that sometimes I worry too much about snakes and cult compounds, that after talking with my own new therapist, I’m trying to stop making so many bargains with fate, that what happened to me over the past year wasn’t just nerves, but panic attacks, like Henry said.
But even though it feels uncomfortable to talk—like breaking in a new pair of shoes—it’s not impossible.
And every time I do it, I’m convinced it will just keep getting easier, until it’s as second nature as breathing.
Charlie, of course, is taking the transparency business to the extreme, his answers to what he’s doing later ranging from “making out with my girl” or “wondering about the jerk who invented the SATs” to “taking out the garbage because Mustard’s cat barf is stinking up the kitchen.”
