Wherever You Go

by Heather Davis

  It'd been a little bit of a rest for me, not worrying quite so much about him. Burned eggs aside, I almost felt like we'd had a good weekend. Yesterday, when Lena had gone to her friend's house after we'd visited the garden, Grandpa had taken a nap and I'd caught up on homework. Mom had had the night off for a change, so she made us all some teriyaki chicken for dinner. Earlier today, Jason had called to say hi, which was cool. Seeing his number flash on the display of the house phone had actually made me smile.

  Carrying a plate and the grater, Lena took her spot at the kitchen table next to Grandpa. For every half a cup of cheese she shredded, she ate a quarter cup. It was a good thing it was the cheaper mozzarella I liked to use for the lasagna topping and not the yummier fresh mozzarella that we could almost never afford to buy. The fresh mozzarella, if we ever did get it on sale, I layered with tomato slices and basil for salad. This was just baked pasta, so it didn't matter as much about the cheese. The secret of lasagna is all in the filling, anyway.

  "I'm starving," Lena said. "When do we eat?"

  "Soon." I gave the sauce a last stir and pulled the noodles from the ice-water bath, layering them in the buttered casserole dish with the ricotta mixture. After covering the topped noodles with the marinara and dollops of the ricotta filling, I called over to Lena for the mozzarella.

  "Can I sprinkle it?" she asked, ready with a handful.

  "Sure."

  A few layers later, we had a nice-looking lasagna. I was just sliding it into the hot oven to bake when I heard the front door open and close.

  "Hello, hello?" Mom called out, clanking her keys into the bowl near the door. "Something smells amazing." She walked into the kitchen, a bag in her arms.

  "What did you get?" I asked.

  "Just a treat for later," Mom said, pulling a carton of strawberry swirl ice cream from the bag and nestling it into the freezer. "It was on sale." She folded the bag and put it in a drawer.

  "Yummy!" Lena said, hugging Mom around the waist. "We're making lasagna."

  Mom patted Lena on the back and came over and sat down in the chair nearest Grandpa. "How are you feeling today, Papa?" "Good," he said.

  She untucked the hem of her polo shirt from her work khakis and leaned back in the chair. "I'm going to get us a glass of wine." She got up, went over to the cabinet, and took down a bottle.

  "Mom, are you sure that—"

  "It's fine," she said, rummaging through the utensil drawer for the opener.

  "It's not going to mess with his meds?"

  "I wouldn't offer it to him if it was going to mess up his medication, Holiday."

  "He's doing really well today. I don't think we should make any changes," I said in a soft voice.

  "I just want to share a glass of wine with him. It won't do any harm. What is with you?" She finally found the opener and slammed the drawer shut, startling all of us.

  "Okay, do what you want." I left the kitchen and headed straight for the room Lena and I shared.

  No sooner had I shut the door than Mom knocked quickly and came in without waiting for an answer. "Don't you walk away from me like that," she said, steadying herself by placing a hand on the frame of the bunk beds.

  "There is no point to arguing in front of Grandpa—or Lena, for that matter. It's just going to upset them, and I really don't need him upset. Especially when we're all calm."

  She sat down on the end of my bed. "But there's nothing to argue about," she said, her voice softening. "If I decide something, it's final. There's nothing else to say."

  "Seriously?"

  "Don't be smart with me," she said, an edge back in her tone.

  "Mom. You leave all of this to me—Lena, Grandpa, the apartment—and then you sweep in here and want to be in charge? That's insane."

  "Oh, give me a break. It's not like you're all alone in this! I am working so we can afford this place, so you have food to eat. I'm providing for this family. I am the mom."

  "I know that. I don't want to be the mom! You think I wouldn't rather be out doing something with a friend? No, instead I'm stuck here, taking care of these guys."

  "I thought you liked helping," Mom said. "Since the accident, you've spent more time with us than ever. I thought you liked being with your family."

  Tears burned down my cheeks. "You're twisting it. I love my family. But if you put me in charge of them, then let me be in charge."

  "You'll never be in charge, Holly," my mom said.

  "Then why am I?"

  She dragged a hand through her bangs, smoothing them. I saw the weariness in her eyes, the sheer exhaustion. "You want me to quit my jobs and take care of everyone? We'll be living in a shelter. How much fun would that be?"

  "I just..." I wiped my cheeks with the arms of my hoodie. "I just need you to stay out of things. I'm handling them."

  "Like the burned eggs yesterday? Lena told me about them."

  "Yes, like the burned eggs. Grandpa is not well, and thanks to Jason taking us on a field trip to a garden yesterday, he's doing better. Can't you tell the difference? He's actually in there helping make the salad."

  "Yes," Mom admitted, "he does seem better this weekend, what little I've seen of him." "Exactly. You're never here. This is like me doing this all on my own," I said.

  "That's not true. I am here sometimes. Give me some credit."

  "I get it. You are contributing, and I'm really grateful for that. But Grandpa's getting worse, not better. I'm sure that's what the doctor is going to say tomorrow."

  Mom pressed her lips together. "Whatever he says, we'll cope."

  "Are you coming to the appointment?"

  She shook her head slowly. "It's during my shift at the dealership. It's the only time slo sonl0em" widtt they had open at the last minute. I can't get anyone to cover."

  "Mom," I said, trying to say what I needed her to hear, "I don't know if I can handle this."

  "I'm counting on you," she said, giving me an exasperated look.

  "You always just assume I'm going to take care of everything. You never ask me."

  "Right now, that's the way it has to be."

  I folded my arms across my chest, thinking of how things should be different. How she should wrap me in a hug and tell me that she was getting a new job with better hours. That it was no problem for me to start thinking about college. That she could start taking care of everything a parent is supposed to.

  It didn't happen, of course.

  "What?" she said, studying my face. "You don't like all of this? Well, you'll be out of the house soon, and then you can do whatever the hell you want." Her voice was angry, raw, but still quiet.

  "But what will you do then? That's the part you never think about."

  Mom sighed. "Actually, Holly, I think about that every day."

  She left me sitting there on the bed, my arms wrapped around myself, feeling like things were getting so much worse.

  Mark helped himself to another serving of leftover barbecue chicken. "So good," he said around a smoky bite. "Sunday and baseball, what more do you need?"

  "Yeah," Jason said. He set down the biscuit he was slathering with butter and took another bite of the potato salad on his plate.

  "You are so lucky. My mom never cooks this good," Mark said. "She makes this goulash with peas and taco meat that no one likes. I swear when my dad smells it cooking, he calls for takeout."

  "My mom can't cook. This is Rosie's dinner from the other night."

  Mark leaned back on the cream couch, his red, sticky fingers dangerously close to the leather. "I wish our housekeeper cooked. Seriously..."

  "Yeah." Jason handed him a dinner napkin.

  Mark stared down at it, confused at first, and then started wiping his barbecue-sauced fingers. "I'm glad you called me. It's good to hang out." He put his feet up on the coffee table and turned his attention toward the Mariners game on TV.

  "Well, I felt bad about the other day. In the car."

  "Don't worry about it," Mark said, giving him a s
ideways smile. "I knew you wouldn't let a chick ruin our friendship. sr fman"

  "C'mon. She's not going to ruin any friendship," he said.

  "You know what I mean."

  "Hello?" Jason's mom called from the foyer. She paused in the doorway of the living room. "Wow, Mark, I haven't seen you in ages." She gave him a smile and smoothed down her hair. "Sorry, it's raining again out there."

  Mark waved at her with the crumpled napkin still in his hand. "Hi, Mrs. Markham."

  "Just call me Mom, silly." She set her giant purse down on one of the barstools in the kitchen and click-clacked her way to the refrigerator. "You know you boys have always been family."

  You boys. No, there was only one boy now without Rob, Jason wanted to say, but he let the remark pass.

  "Sure, thanks, Mom," Mark said, trying it out.

  Rolling his eyes, Jason picked up the plate of chicken bones and the empty soda cans. He threw the cans into the recycling bin under the sink and the bones into the compost bucket. He left the plate on the counter. "We ate almost all the leftovers from the other night. Sorry. I think there's a little potato salad left in the fridge, maybe."

  "Oh, no worries, I had an early dinner after the open house," his mom said, opening up a diet soda with the back of a spoon so she wouldn't chip her pink polished nails. "So, aren't you going to ask me how the showing went?" she said.

  "Sure, Mom. How did it go?" He leaned on his elbows on the granite countertop of the island.

  "How kind of you to ask," she said with a smile. "As a matter of fact, I may get an offer tomorrow."

  "Nice work."

  "I had a buyer who's in love with the garden and was delighted with the fresh look of the kitchen. See? Staging goes a long way. Can't thank you enough for your help."

  "I only carried in your pillows and bowls of lemons."

  "It was much appreciated," she said. "It's been hard for me to get back into the swing of things. I haven't shown houses since before you were born. Your help meant a lot." She patted him on the shoulder.

  "Well, you're welcome, then." Jason turned to go.

  "Wait, honey—I did have one question—the old man and the girls at the house yesterday? I saw you in the greenhouse when I went to give the gardeners their check."

  "Those were the friends I told you I was bringing by," he said.

  She took a seat on one of the free barstools. "But that was the Mullen girl, wasn't it?"

  "The Mullen girl? You mean Holly? Yeah," he said quietly after a quick glance toward Mark, who was busy yelling at the runner stealing third base on TV.

  His mom frowned. "Why on earth would you be hanging around her?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, she was Rob's girlfriend, right?"

  "Yeah," Jason said in a calm voice.

  "It seems a little strange," she said. "Even with the history with Rob, she isn't exactly your normal type of girl."

  "I know. That's why I like her," he said, brushing some crumbs from the counter in front of him.

  She wiped down her sweating diet soda can with a paper towel. "So, is this serious?"

  "I like her," he said.

  His mom shook her head. "I just don't know if this is the right thing for you, sweetheart. You need to be focusing ahead on college, not looking back at what you lost."

  "It's not about Rob," he said. "I just like her."

  "I don't think this is a good idea at all," she said. "There are so many other girls at your school. This just spells disaster."

  "Mom."

  "I'm sorry, that's just the way I feel."

  "That's too bad," Jason said.

  His mom cocked her head. "Excuse me?"

  "Sorry. It's just that I've got plans to have her and her family over next weekend. You can meet her." Actually, he hadn't made any plans yet, but now he wanted to.

  "I suppose that's the right thing to do," his mom said with a sigh. "I still don't like it."

  "You don't have to like it," Jason said.

  "Honey, I just don't want you to get hurt."

  Of course she would say that, Jason thought. Mom was so down on love at the moment, it would be hard for her to see how happy Holly made him. Hard for her to encourage him to pursue something while she'd lost her faith. It really was over. His dad had come by today for another load of stuff to take to his new condo. He wouldn't let Jason help unload the truck, so Jason didn't know where the apartment was exactly—just that his dad wasn't coming back to live at the house. His mom had known his dad would be by—she'd made sure to be away just so she wouldn't have to deal.

  "I think you're going to like Holly," he said.

  "Okay, well, let me know if I can help with anything," she said.

  "I'm going to ask Rosie to help."

  "Oh."

  "It's just that I thought you'd be busy with your houses," Jason said, seeing the crestfallen look in his mom's eyes.

  "I'm not terribly busy," she replied. "I could help you set up for dinner at least."

  "Good." Jason smiled. "Then it's a plan."

  "Yes." Jason saw a little sparkle come back into her eyes. "Hey, Mom, you got any chips?" Mark yelled from the living room.

  "Sure," Jason's mom said, getting a bag down. "Maybe some nachos?" he added.

  Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed the corn chips from his mom. "I'll do it," he said.

  "Nice to have your friends around again," his mom said with a gentle smile. "Yeah. Nice."

  ***

  The grass on the hillside is probably damp, but you can't feel it anyway. You lean back against the guardrail, watching McCallister Road fill with a steady stream of Monday morning traffic, commuters making their way down the hillside community in their shiny luxury cars, their SUVs. The spring rain patters softly across windshields. You hear the swish-swish of wipers, the staccato splash of all-season tires through shallow puddles. A school bus puffs by in a cloud of diesel fumes.

  Everything is normal. Everything but you.

  The time on the hill had seemed endless last night. You expected some kind of monumental revelation, maybe that tunnel of light to descend now that the universe has you down on your knees, but nothing came. Just dark trees clinging to the hillside, crows that stopped by to search the ravine for treasure, the sound of insects busy in the grass. And all the while, your mind had no respite. No gentle thoughts came to rescue you from the anger that filled your head for the dark hours. And in the light, you turned over and over what Aldo said.

  Now, after a night of solitude, you've come to a few conclusions:

  At least Aldo is alive.

  Though it's a little limited, he can still communicate with his family.

  He can still experience the world.

  Everyone can see him.

  What the hell does he know about what you're going through? And for him to get mad about you being frustrated was so unfair. What you wouldn't give to be able to talk to your family, your friends, Holly. What you wouldn't give to have a bite of fresh tomato, the juice running down your chin. What you wouldn't give to sleep and dream...

  All of those things suddenly seem so important to you. So vital to any kind of meaningful existence. So what if maybe you didn't appreciate them when you were swhehat alive. Does that mean you can't want them now? You guess it's jealousy, but still.

  As you look up to watch the traffic again, a big truck rushes the hill's curve, crashing through the puddle nearest you. A wall of water drops falls over you. But there's nothing to shake off. You don't even need to mutter a curse word at the driver. It's almost funny.

  "Being a ghost is overrated," you say aloud, "but at least you don't get wet." The sound of your laughter is lonely, hollow.

  If Aldo was there, he would think it was hilarious. He does have a good sense of humor. He's actually fun to talk to. You have to admit you miss the old guy, but where did he get off judging you, sending you away? That's some bullshit.

  You're the one haunting him. You're the one who shoul
d de-cide if you stay or go. Yes. You'll go back to see Aldo today, and he'll be grateful for the visit. Maybe he'll be the one to apologize first for the whole thing. When you only have one true friend, you have to forgive and forget.

  Even if that guy is dead like you.

  ***

  I barely made it through school on Monday. Marisa was out sick, so the day seemed to drag on endlessly in a swirl of forgotten homework, a lunch of a peanut butter sandwich that felt like glue in my mouth, and strange acknowledging nods I was getting when I walked down the hall with Jason. It seemed like everyone knew we were a couple suddenly.

  When the last bell rang, I headed for home so that Grandpa and I could go downtown to his appointment. Worried about being late, I hustled him from the bench in front of our building down to the city bus stop two blocks away. With Lena away at a friend's house for a play date, it was just the two of us. We'd take an express downtown and then a local up to First Hill, the mecca for medical offices in Seattle.

  The bus stop's bench was painted a light gray, exactly like the sidewalk below it. Grandpa Aldo reached backwards for a seat, swayed, and almost fell down onto the concrete.

  "Here," I said, reaching out and helping him over onto the actual bench.

  Aldo kept looking down at the spot on the concrete where he'd almost fallen, staring as if to see the seat he'd imagined there. It was like he couldn't see where the bench ended and the sidewalk began. His face constricted with worry.

  "It's okay," I said, sliding onto the seat next to him. "Now we just wait here until the bus comes."

  There was uncertainty in his eyes. I felt the fear growing inside him, and suddenly I was scared too. A freak-out could be coming next. I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.

  "Gloria?" Grandpa Aldo said softly.

  His asking for my late grandmother was not a good sign.

  I reached out my hand and took one of his. "Grandpa, it's me, Holly. We're waiting for the bus to go see your doctor. It's going to be fine."

  He pressed his wrinkled lips together and didn't say anything. A few seconds later I heard soft humming under his breath, like he was trying to soothe himself or something.