The two of us sat back against the seats. Will placed both hands on the steering wheel and kept them there, and I gripped the bottom of the seat, my fingers curling around the edge. Finally, after several deep breaths, we were on our way.
31
FALLING SLOWLY
By the beginning of March, Will and I were officially a couple and we finally started acting like one, too. Every day he picked me up for school and drove me home afterward, we walked down the hallways together holding hands, I visited him at his locker and he at mine. Krupa and Kecia got used to having him around, and his teammates got used to me, too. We ate out in big groups at the diner, went to the movies, hung out at each other’s houses.
Everything was perfect.
I began to believe there was life beyond my mother, beyond grief and sadness, and I almost forgot about the items that remained in my Survival Kit. The silver star, the box of crayons, the tiny, handmade kite. Will and I had yet to discuss the crystal heart, though I didn’t give it much thought.
One morning after another heavy snowfall, maybe the last one of winter, Will drove me to school as usual. Slowly, carefully, he turned into the parking lot and inched along the back row, the road covered in a sheet of ice. When we reached the farthest corner, I directed him toward a spot. ���Let’s park here,” I said.
He gave me a funny look. “Isn’t this kind of far away from the entrance?”
“Hmmm, maybe so.”
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Why would anything be wrong? Nothing is wrong. Trust me.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug and swung into the space. A forest of snow-covered trees met us through the windshield, beads of ice along the thinnest limbs, the branches so heavy they almost brushed the front end of the truck. Will’s hand went straight to the door handle.
“Wait,” I stopped him.
“What?”
“Where are you going?”
“Same place as you. I think.”
“Don’t you have first period free?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, so do I.”
Will’s hand retracted from the door handle. “What does that mean?”
“Let’s see, not a soul is around, we have a beautiful view.” I gestured outside at the branches, swaying in the wind, the occasional ray of sunlight dancing off the ice. “Neither one of us has to go to class at the moment.”
This got a smile out of him. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
He reached over and took my hand, playing with my fingers.
“Your cheeks are red,” I observed.
“Nah,” he said, glancing out the window.
“It’s extremely cute.”
“Cute? I’m not sure I want to be cute. People say my sisters are cute.”
“Hot then.”
“You think I’m hot?” A grin tugged at his lips as he stared out the front of the truck, but the red only deepened.
“Maybe,” I said. “Hey, where does forward-Will go when we get to school? It’s like, kissing me on school grounds is against the rules or something.”
He laughed. “I guess I feel different when we’re at my house. Or really, anywhere outside of here. School, I mean. I’m more, I don’t know … me when we’re alone or in other places.”
“You mean, you become Mr. I-don’t-care-who-sees-me-kissing-Rose-Madison?”
“Is that how I am?” He actually sounded surprised.
“Um, yes. I like that version of you.”
He laughed nervously. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I’m not very”—he paused, thinking—“public when I’m at school. I never have been. I keep a low profile.”
“Yes, I know. You kept such a low profile I barely knew you existed for two years.”
“Come on, I worked at your house.”
“But you never talked to me. Ever.”
“I’m not like you, the center of attention.”
I blinked, surprised he thought this about me. “To be honest, I’m not sure that was ever really me either. And I was never the center. I was only nearby.”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned,” he said, and paused as if to brace himself, “I don’t like to flaunt what’s going on in my personal life in front of everyone at Lewis. I hope that’s okay.” He glanced at me sideways.
“I think I’ll live. Besides, I also like shy Will.”
“Oh, great. Now I’m shy Will.”
“Yes, at this particular moment you are, but back to more pressing matters,” I said, checking the time. “We have exactly thirty-five minutes before we even need to enter the building.” I scooted across the seat, closer. “Tons of privacy, no one around to worry about. Just you, me, the truck, and some trees.”
“You’re not shy at all, are you?”
“Careful, or I might kiss you at your locker between classes today in front of everyone.”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be so horrible.”
I put my arms around his neck. “Let’s start with the school parking lot and go from there.”
“Sounds like a reasonable compromise.”
“I’m glad we could come to an agreement,” I said, and those were the last words spoken between us until we had to go inside.
The call came during sixth period. I was hanging around the library, searching the shelves for something to read. The photograph of a beautiful girl on the cover of a book caught my attention so I picked it up. Happiness hummed through me as I flipped through it, enjoying the promise of the day’s end and seeing Will again. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tall bookshelf, remembering this morning.
A sigh came from the end of the row.
“So you couldn’t wait,” I said without looking up, assuming it was Will. He knew I was here and I was hoping he would figure a way out of history so we could meet. I’d imagined a make-out session in some remote corner of the stacks.
There was another intake of breath. Then a woman’s voice, “Rose Madison?”
I opened my eyes. Suddenly I could feel what was coming next, ominous, like the whisper of a candle blown out. The school librarian approached me, already halfway down the aisle. “What’s wrong?” I whispered when I saw the look on her face.
“The principal is looking for you. Have you checked your cell phone?” She hesitated a moment. “The hospital has been trying to reach you. It’s your father.”
The blood drained from my body, starting at the top of my head straight down through my face and torso to my legs and feet, everything gone cold. I reached out to grip the edge of the hard metal shelf and tried to steady myself, my fingers slamming against the coarse spines of old books. Thoughts raced through my mind like a ticker at the bottom of a news channel. Is my father dead? Dying? How did it happen? Was he drinking? I lost Mom and now I’m going to lose Dad, too. I’m going to lose my dad, my father.
I pushed past the librarian but she stopped me. Her hand felt warm and reassuring through my shirt and I wished she could make that feeling radiate all the way to my fingertips. “I should go,” I said.
“Do you need a ride? Is there someone I can call?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got to go,” I repeated, and began to walk, then run toward the exit. I had to find Will. He would know what to do, how to handle this. The library door was heavy, resisting my body like it didn’t want to let me out. I pushed through and immediately bent in half, both hands gripping my knees, my lungs heaving, everything a blur, like the world spun out of control. I had to pull myself together, so I forced myself up and began to stumble through the corridors, winding my way around the halls until I was outside Will’s classroom. Hands cupped against the window, I peered in, needing him to see me, my breaths short and ragged. It felt like forever before Will noticed I was there. When he came out I stepped to the side, gripping the nearby wall of lockers for support. He shut the door softly behind him, the short click of the latch the only noise.
&
nbsp; “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a hush in the empty corridor.
I started to cry, I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. “Something happened,” I said between sobs. “Something bad. My father is in the hospital and I’m so scared.” I buried my face in my hands and waited for him to put his arms around me, to move my body in the direction it needed to go, to be strong for me, to take me to see my father and tell me everything would be all right, that we would handle this. But his hands never reached for me and the reassurance never came, so I wiped my eyes with my palms and looked up. Will watched me from a distance, his arms glued to his sides, with an expression on his face that I couldn’t read.
“Will? Can you—”
“Rose, I’m sorry,” he said before I could finish.
“But, I need—can you take me? To the hospital?” I stuttered, wondering why I even needed to ask.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, and I began to panic.
What was he sorry for, exactly? And why wasn’t he doing anything, just standing there, frozen? Before I could pose any of these questions, I heard another voice in the hall, loud and deep.
“Rose,” it said. “Rose,” I heard, closer now.
I turned and saw Chris Williams standing there.
“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” These words fell from his lips and suddenly it was nine months ago and he was asking these same questions but because of my mother. Chris was suddenly at my side, someone that I could grab hold of, cling to, and all I had to do was reach out.
But I wanted it to be Will.
“It’s my dad,” I whispered.
That was all it took. There was a flurry of talk from Chris to me but I heard it as if underwater, his words distorted and blurred, the ground beginning to spin again, to ebb and flow, closer then farther away. There was an arm, big and strong, across my back, not Will’s, and for some reason I noticed how the white blond of Chris’s hair was so bright it stood out even against the fluorescent lighting on the ceiling. This was all so familiar, like I’d lived it before.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said, the very words I’d expected from Will. “We’ll be at the hospital in no time.” Just before we reached the doors to the parking lot, I heard my name one last time.
“Rose?”
Chris tried to draw me forward but my feet planted solid, and I wondered if I might just tear in half. I turned to see Will standing there, seeming lost, this boy who usually made me feel safe and taken care of and loved and listened to. I waited for him to explain, to take over, to tell me he’d just needed a moment and now he was ready. But Will didn’t move or say anything else, and that’s when I knew he wasn’t going to be there for me like I’d imagined. Those big blue eyes of his that had invited me inside these last wonderful months, in an instant they closed off, went blank, and became the eyes of the Will I’d known for years before, the one who was far away and stoic, like a locked door.
“I’ve got it from here,” Chris said eventually, his voice loud and sharp, a puncture in the quiet. “I’ve done this before,” he added with confidence, lobbing these words in Will’s direction.
I heard the faded sound of my own breathing and felt as though every single cell in my body that had turned back on during the winter, one by one, an endless string of tiny lights sparkling awake after a long sleep, had shut down again. All at once, my body went dark.
“Rose, we should go,” Chris urged. “You don’t want to waste any more time.”
I heard Will’s boots padding against the school corridor, the wheezing sound of a heavy door opening and closing, and I knew he was gone.
Then I did what I had to do. I let go of Will, for now.
It was time to deal with my father.
I let Chris steer me outside to face whatever came next.
MARCH
A Box of Crayons
32
BEEN A LONG DAY
That familiar hospital smell hit me like a wave and I staggered back a few steps, but I knew I had to keep going, to face whatever waited inside. “Rose,” someone said as the force lessened, and I made myself step into the hall. The voice beckoned again. “Honey, come here.”
“Anna,” I said, turning toward the desk where she stood, her arms out, waiting for me—Anna had been my mother’s nurse. “Hi,” I choked out. She hugged me and the hospital smell disappeared, replaced by the sweet scent of her perfume and the feel of her soft curls against my cheek. During the two months Mom was here, Anna had witnessed everything, the highs and the unbelievable lows, until the very end when my mother’s pulse dropped all the way to zero and stopped forever.
She let me go after a while. “I’m going to put you somewhere private while you wait for the doctor.”
“But my dad. Can’t I? Shouldn’t I go see him? Now. You know?” I stuttered.
The springy rubber soles of Anna’s shoes squeaked as she pivoted me around until I was facing an office I knew well, the one reserved for discussions the doctors didn’t want to have in front of the other people in the waiting room, the same office where I’d learned the news about Mom.
Anna guided me inside and shut the door behind me.
I slouched into the armchair where I’d sat less than a year ago, tilting my head back against the smooth, cool leather. Memories I’d tried so hard to erase crept back into my consciousness, first in dribs and drabs—the last day I saw my mother truly alive, standing on the front porch, where she waved at me as I left for school and called out that she loved me. The final few minutes of her life when I’d held her hand, how my fingers clasped hers, how I felt their warmth, and took in the sound of her heart on the machine, ever slower, watching her face until I kissed her on the cheek, her skin so thin and tired, my fingers slipping from hers, one by one, never forgetting for a second that I would never touch or see her again. The sadness that I’d mistakenly believed had receded for good was like a tide at the beach, gone out for a few hours, till at the turn of the day it rushed back, reminding me it was still there.
The beginning of the end for my mother came on her favorite kind of day, on a bright, sunny afternoon in April, the kind that gives you spring fever, where you want to throw on a tank top and skirt and expose as much skin as possible to the warmth and the light. I was down on the track that circled the football field at cheer practice, and in between dances and stunts, basket tosses and plain old cheers, my teammates and I spread out sweatshirts on the springy burnt orange surface so we could lie in the sun. We stretched our arms out, trying to soak up as much vitamin D as our bodies had lost over the dark, wintry months. How happy I felt that day, so much energy pulsing through me, my blood racing, everything inside me rejoicing because the warm weather was here and summer was around the corner.
During one of these breaks my dad called. “Your mother isn’t feeling well,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “I think I’m going to take her to the hospital.”
“Well, what does she say?” I asked, unconcerned, peeling off yet another layer, loving the feel of the heat on my body. “Is she even willing to go?” My mother had always called the shots when it came to her cancer and I could just imagine her protests against Dad making a decision on her behalf.
“I’m not sure I care what she wants,” he said. “She’s in pain.”
Even this didn’t faze me much. She had endured all kinds of agony last time around, proving she could handle anything. She’d beaten a type and stage of cancer almost nobody lived through and everybody called her a walking miracle, even her doctors.
“I’m going to take her,” Dad said, desperation creeping into his voice.
Rebecca, our captain at the time, waved me over because practice was going to start again. “Sure,” I said to my father, distracted. “Whatever you want. Just call to let me know what happens.”
“I will,” he said, and I heard the sound of car doors opening and slamming through the phone.
“Tell Mom I love her.”
�
�Okay,” I heard my father say, and then there was a click.
The cheerleaders were already setting up to run through our most difficult pyramid, three tiers of girls with one at the top—me.
“Rose, are you ready to join us or what?” Rebecca wanted to know.
“I’m coming,” I said, and pushed away thoughts of my parents on the way to the hospital as we practiced the formation again and again. Kecia, Tamika, and Mary were responsible for popping me high in the air so I could land on the second tier of teammates.
“Ready?” they said as usual, on maybe our eighth try that day.
“Ready!” I responded, preparing myself to fly.
“Down-up!” Kecia commanded.
I can hear it now, clear as day.
I remember traveling up, up, up, my muscles tight, my toes pointed, my body straight like a shot, riding the momentum until the very last second, when I started to come back down and landed square on the shoulders of two girls, who grabbed my legs immediately, anchoring me. Once I was steady, I punched my arm straight toward the hot sun and smiled at the imaginary crowd in the stands. This time when I looked out, my eyes met Jim’s and I laughed with surprise. For almost two years I’d pestered my brother to visit me at practice. “Hey, Jimmy!” I called out, my voice echoing through the empty stadium. I waved but he didn’t smile, and that’s when I knew something was wrong.
“Kecia!” I yelled. “I need to come down. Now.” Anxiety rolled through my already tense muscles. After a few moments of organizing on the ground that stretched on forever, I heard her voice.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” I called back, everything about me becoming unsteady.
“Down-up!” the girls directly under me shouted, and again I felt the momentum of traveling up in the air until my body began its descent, Kecia, Mary, and Tamika cradling my back and legs before I could reach the ground and popping me back onto the track. The second I landed I ran over to Jim.
“Rose,” he croaked, his eyes pooling with tears.
I suddenly felt desperate. “What? What! Tell me.”
SURVIVAL KIT Page 18
