No one spoke. No one moved. I didn’t really care what his answer would be. Mom and I both knew the truth, and so did he.
“Scott?” Mom’s voice shook.
“Fuck you,” he hissed and stood. “Fuck all of you.”
He stormed out, slamming the door. A second later, he was back in.
“So now what, Deb,” he yelled. “You’re just abandoning me like my mother? Huh?”
Mom was clearly prepared for this attack.
“It’s no one’s fault Judy left—she couldn’t raise you and we could. And I’ve never invalidated your feelings of abandonment. But don’t even think about using it as an excuse for what you did to Macy.”
He shook his head.
“So, you still have nothing to say to me?” I asked him. I needed to be sure. To be sure he was as bad as I thought. Because a tiny piece of me got pulled along on the abandonment thing. I’d always felt sorry that Aunt Judy left him.
“I’ve got something. You’re a fucking liar,” he said.
“Scott,” Mom said. “Being an adult means owning up to your mistakes, asking forgiveness when you’ve hurt someone. Maybe I haven’t let you grow up. We’ve supported you long after we should have. But it stops here, right now. You have to accept the responsibilities of being an adult. When you’re ready to tell the truth, let me know.”
He looked at her once more with disbelief, and then he left.
I heard the car start up and the whirr, whirr of him reversing out of the driveway.
Mom got up and started making coffee.
“Mom,” I said.
She held up one finger, a “hold on a minute.” Then she whispered, “I just need a—I’ll be right back.”
She ran out of the kitchen. The sobbing started halfway up the stairs. Body-shaking, my-son-has-just-died sobs that only a mother can really feel. Finally I heard the door to her room close and the sobbing was muffled.
I sat for a few minutes staring straight ahead and then I pulled out my phone to answer Rebecca’s insistent worried texts.
ME: Scott was here. Will fill u in latr.
REBECCA: Shit. Call when u can.
I took a travel mug of coffee to my car. I figured I should at least pick Gavin up since he’d been turned out like a dog. Just as I pulled into Eliza’s driveway, my phone rang. Dad. I considered not answering it, but in the end, I guess I wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, letting all the bitterness come through in those two words.
I could hear muffled noise and airline announcements in the background.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry. You never—I mean, you didn’t—I don’t even know what to say. This had been going on since you were seven?” His voice cracked. “I had no idea. I—”
“Why didn’t you ever tell Mom?” I asked.
“I didn’t think she would be able to handle it.”
“Bullshit,” I said, tears stinging my eyes.
Dad sighed and it made a whooshing sound into the phone.
“That day after the pool,” he said. “I was ready to skewer Scott. I wanted to kick him out of the house. But he said it was a one-time incident, that he was messing around and took it too far. And he seemed so remorseful.”
“And you believed him?”
“I guess I did. He swore it would never happen again. I was protecting Mom by not telling her. I thought I could take care of the situation myself. As long as I made sure it didn’t happen again, everything would be okay. I told Scott I’d tell Mom or even the police if he ever came near you again. I thought you’d tell me if you needed to talk; you and I were so close. But you’ve always been so strong, and then as time went on, I really thought you’d moved past it, so every time I considered bringing it up, I didn’t want to reopen a wound for you.”
“It wasn’t just a ‘one-time incident,’” I said, barely able to stomach the phrase.
“I know that now.” I could hear all the regret, the defeat—everything he was feeling in his words. But I didn’t feel them.
“Do you know that I’ve hated Mom ever since then?” I asked. “I assumed she was ashamed of me, of what I did.”
“She has never been ashamed of you. I thought you were just a teenage girl being tough on her mom.”
He didn’t get me at all.
“I know sorry isn’t good enough,” he said. “I failed you. I should have done more. I was a coward. I’m so sorry, Macy.”
He may have meant it, but his apology felt empty to me. Like a quick game of catch in the backyard to make up for all he’d missed.
“Okay, Dad,” I said, mostly just because I wanted to get off the phone.
“I’ll be home tonight,” he said. “I love you, sweetie.”
“Okay,” I said again and hung up.
I turned the ignition off and got out of the car. As I started on the path to Eliza’s front door, I saw a shadow of something in the backyard. I squinted and realized it was two figures, connected at the head. Gavin and Eliza sat on a bench, kissing with just their lips touching, nothing else. I saw the pure joy of this kiss and its innocent beauty, and I was relieved that it still existed in my world. I got back in the car and headed home.
I pulled into the garage, but I wasn’t ready to go inside. I went around the house to my oak tree, which was always there for me—wide, solid, consistent. I put my hand on the rough bark and looked up at its bright green summer leaves. In a few months, the leaves would change—red, orange, yellow. And then they’d let go, fluttering, free.
My colors had changed. And now I wanted to let go.
Suddenly, I knew what to do. I kicked off my flip-flops and ran. When I got to the edge of the pool, I watched the evening sunlight make sparkles on the water’s neon blue surface. I bent my knees, stretched out my arms, and dove. The force pushed me toward the bottom. I blew tiny bubbles out of my nose and felt the water swish around me. I touched the scratchy bottom and then kicked myself back up to the surface. I took a breath and swam the length of the pool. It had been five years, but I remembered how. With the help of muscle memory, I swam laps—freestyle, breaststroke, backstroke—letting the cool water gurgle in my ears and flow through my fingers.
I stood in water up to my chest and twirled, leaning my head back, sweeping my hair along the water’s surface. With outstretched arms, I swirled and spun.
And suddenly I was laughing and crying and smiling. In a way, I had drowned that day five years ago. Since then, I’d gone through the motions and hadn’t felt much. But now, I felt everything I’d missed. I felt the years of innocence I’d lost, the pain of my broken family. I ached for Chris, my oldest friend in the world, and Dad, who wasn’t really who I thought he was. I burst with love for Rebecca and for Mom, who’d taken care of me when I most needed them, and for Gavin, who’d just had his first kiss.
I felt everything. Now I was ready to start over, ready for the new leaves to grow.
“You’re swimming.”
His voice startled me. I rubbed the chlorine from my eyes. The sun was lower, but I still had to shade my eyes with my hand to see Sebastian standing at the edge of the pool.
“Yeah. I—” But I didn’t know what to say.
“In your clothes?” He smiled.
I looked down. I was still wearing Rebecca’s shorts and tank. I shrugged.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’ve been trying to reach you.”
He crouched down so I didn’t have to squint and crane my neck to see him. He looked so good, and his dark eyes were bright. But then I remembered the look on his face when he saw Jacqueline.
“I wasn’t ready to talk,” I said.
“I want to explain about Jacqueline,” he said quietly. “Can I stay for a minute?”
I shrugged again, but it turned into a shiver. I was getting chilly standing still in the cool water with the sun going down. I swished my arms back and forth to warm up.
Sebastian sat at th
e edge of the pool and took off his shoes and socks. He put his feet in the water.
“I’m working through the steps,” he said. “I asked her to meet me so I could apologize, make amends.”
“Well, how did it go?” I asked, but my tone said I didn’t care. His reason for meeting her didn’t explain the look on his face when he saw her.
“I said what I needed to say. And then I had to be alone to process everything.”
I nodded. I got that. As much as I thought I’d needed Sebastian to get through everything with Scott, with Mom, I’d needed to be alone to process everything too. At my oak tree. In the pool.
“But I should have told you that I needed time,” he said. “I should’ve called you right away.”
I stayed silent, waiting for the “friends” talk. I just wanted it to be over with.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“If you want.”
He pushed up on his arms and lowered himself into the water, then quickly dunked his whole body under before popping back up, the water streaming down his face. His wet shirt clung to his chest as he moved toward me.
“So, you’re swimming? That’s a big deal, right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Some major shit just went down.”
He stood still, waiting for me to tell him. I realized that even if I’d lost him to his ex-girlfriend, even if we were going to be just friends, he was still the first person I’d ever told about Scott, and I wanted him to know everything that had happened since.
“My dad never told my mom what happened that day,” I said. Sebastian’s mouth opened but he didn’t say anything. “So today, it all blew up. I told my mom, she freaked, but then she kind of turned into a real mom. Scott was here and he denied everything, and now he’s gone. I don’t know if he’ll ever be back. And my dad called and said he’s sorry, but I don’t really care.”
“Shit,” he said. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
I looked at my oak tree and then into Sebastian’s eyes. “I feel,” I said. “I feel everything.”
He nodded.
“That’s a good thing,” he said. He understood.
He came closer, his body right in front of me so I had to tilt my head to look at him. He wrapped his arms around me. We stood leaning against each other in our soaking wet clothes, and his flat torso pressed against my chest. I laid my head against his neck and felt his pulse beating its fast rhythm. A small, stubborn part of me didn’t want to give up the fight so easily, but the rest of me just wanted to be close to him, even if I couldn’t have him for good. I put my arms around him and held on tight.
“So you still love her,” I said into his neck.
“No. I don’t.”
“It looked like maybe you did.”
“I don’t.” He pulled away and looked at me. “You were right about how I’d never gotten closure. She left town and it never really ended for me, not really. Not until you. So when I saw her yesterday, I wasn’t just making amends, I also needed to make a clean break, so I could be free.”
I put my head back on his chest and smiled into his shirt.
“Did you really break up with Chris?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“You are?”
“Mmmhmmm,” he said, possibly the sexiest two syllables I’d ever heard. “I want this. I want you.”
“Me too.” The words barely made it out past the swelling of my heart.
“When I couldn’t reach you,” he said. “When you wouldn’t answer me, I was so tempted to just get high to deal with it. I thought about calling my old connection to score.”
I pulled back and looked at him.
“I didn’t. I won’t,” he said. “I have to do it the hard way now. Like coming here, even though you didn’t want to see me. I won’t run off and get high when things get tough anymore. I’ll confront them, work through them. But I’m still scared.”
“We can wait,” I said. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
“I don’t want to wait,” he said.
“Me neither.”
He wove his fingers through my dreadlocks and looked at me, his brown eyes darker than ever. He bent his head closer, his breath warming my lips. We stayed like that—staring, breathing—making the moment last. He came closer, slowly, and his soft lips pressed against mine. Our first real kiss. Heat, electricity, love. Real love. I was me, really and truly me. And he was Sebastian. And, holy shit, were we in love. I grabbed the back of his head, breathing harder as our kiss deepened.
After what felt like forever, we stopped kissing and stared at each other.
Before that night at Rebecca’s, I hadn’t really realized that I’d been broken. But since then, I’d figured it out and then fit the jagged pieces back together. And, at the same time, Sebastian had done his own discovery and repair.
Now I put my arms around him and tried to combine with him.
“Don’t let go,” I said.
“I won’t.”
I imagined that glue was seeping into the tiny cracks between our reassembled pieces and we would just keep holding each other tight while the glue dried.
This moment—standing in the pool with my body pressed against Sebastian while the sun set—this moment was my choice. And all the moments that would come after—those would be my choice too.
RESOURCES FOR HELP
Sexual Abuse
RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network)
www.RAINN.org
National Sexual Assault Hotline
800-656-HOPE (4673)
Pandora’s Project
www.pandys.org
Depression/Mental Illness
National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI)
www.NAMI.org
800-950-NAMI (6264)
Substance Abuse
Narcotics Anonymous
www.NA.org
Alcoholics Anonymous
www.AA.org
SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration)
www.SAMHSA.gov
800-662-HELP (4357)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve always wanted to be an author, but I didn’t realize how many people I’d need for the dream to become a reality. Thank you to all of these dream-makers:
Linda Epstein, my agent and friend—your honest advice, contagious laugh, and beautiful soul are more than anyone could ask for in a business partner.
Nicole Frail, my thoughtful, smart, hardworking editor who saw something special in Macy and wanted to share her story with readers.
Julie Matysik, Adrienne Szpyrka, Sarah Brody, Sara Winkelman, and the Sky Pony/Skyhorse team for turning my manuscript into a book that people can read and put on their shelves.
Jennifer Shulman, my go-to reader, receiver of emails both joyful and heartbreaking, and my trusted conference-attending partner. We’ve been through so much together already and there is so much more to go … onward.
Kendall Kulper, my brilliant and honest critique partner—your writing and even-keeled attitude inspire me to write better.
My insightful and encouraging beta readers: I.W. Gregorio, Laura Hughes, Kristin Brandt.
The GWKA writers group—especially Laura Hughes, Kristin Brandt, Karen Dowicz Haas, and Orla Collins—without our weekly brainstorming chats, I would have no plot and no pages.
My newer author friends including my Sky Pony pub-siblings, Fearless Fifteeners, Fall Fifteeners, Team Rogue YA, and YA Outside the Lines.
ML, DK, Dr. R, DM, CC, ME, AA for your inspiration and for answering my (often difficult) questions about sexual abuse, addiction, depression, and psychiatric hospitals. Regarding these issues, The Fix is one story, but it’s not everyone’s story. I hope I got it right. Or at least not terribly wrong.
Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) for helping me find my tribe.
Every blogger and reader of young a
dult fiction—thank you for loving YA and making it a thing.
My go-to friends—your genuine interest and pride give me strength. In order of appearance: Claudia Kandel—friend who is family from four to forty-four and forever. Mara Bralove—compassionate, unstoppable, and every positive superlative that ever existed. Lucy Roberts—you know how much. Erin Sheehy and the rest of my Sidwell gang—you are as special to me now as you were in high school (and before). Nancy Lewand and Tifany Pedersen—my sister-friends with hearts of gold. Laura Hollenberg—your open and generous spirit. Amy Oringel—tg 4 u. every. single. day. And so many friends, old and new, who have enriched my life. (Yes, I mean you.)
My babysitting teammates over the years who have helped keep my boys happy and well.
My extended family—the Sinels, Cohens, Greens, Lewands, Pedersens, Winnicks, Hersches, Duchanos, Offenbergers, Pyners—and especially my parents-in-law, Norene and Laurence Green, and Suzanne and David Cohen. There are no words for the extent of my love and gratitude.
Ellen and Norman Sinel, my mom and dad, to whom this book is dedicated. Your influence and love are at the root of everything I do. Thank you.
Andy Cohen, my everyday companion for 150,000 hours and counting. You are everything that is good—my husband, partner, supporter, and the most magnificent father to our boys.
Finally, Nathan, Zachary, and Justin—my miraculous, unique snowflakes. Each of you takes my breath away with your kindness, warmth, and intelligence. I love you.
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