As I Am

by AnnaLisa Grant

  Miller stops and looks at me for a moment, like he’s trying to figure something out.

  “What?” I ask, completely aware of my rising nervousness. “I’m sorry. Am I talking too much? Sometimes I talk too much‒‒”

  “I understand,” Miller says, cutting me off. “… the connection you’re talking about. When you have that kind of connection with someone, other people just don’t understand it. That’s actually, kind of why I’m here,” he tells me.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah … um … My sister killed herself,” he says with just a bit of hesitancy.

  “Oh my God, Miller. I am so, so sorry!” Something comes over me and I have this intense need to hug him. So I do. I wrap my arms around him and hold him like our lives depend on it. I squeeze my eyes shut, somehow overwhelmed with his pain. Sadness fills me and my eyes fill with tears. I didn’t even know this girl, but her horrific death is making my heart hurt. I pull away and look at Miller, not exactly sure what I’m reading on his face. I hope I haven’t freaked him out by my emotional response.

  “Why are you crying?” he asks, wiping the tears from my face.

  “I’m just so sad for you. I’m so sorry that you had to experience that. It breaks my heart,” I tell him. This connection he keeps telling me we have … it feels so real right now, like I’ve known Miller forever, like we’re old souls, connecting again in this life. His pain is my pain and I can’t stand it.

  “If you don’t want me to go on …” he says.

  “You can share anything you want with me, Miller,” I tell him. His vulnerability is piercing. I’ve never experienced anything like it with anyone before. Part of me wants him to talk forever, to share every single detail of his life with me. The other part of me knows that I’m not worthy of hearing it.

  Miller nods his head to the side and invites me to continue walking with him. “She was a year younger than me. We both had the opportunity to come here on scholarship. I thought it would be lame, so I didn’t come. I wanted to spend the summer hanging out with my friends and getting into things I shouldn’t. She wanted to have a summer away from our crappy parents. I don’t know what happened, but she came back different. She was always quiet and reserved, really smart. Not like me.”

  “Did she leave a note or anything? I mean … was there ever any explanation?” I ask softly.

  “She left a note, although it wasn’t much of one. It was to me and all she said was for me to please not hate her. But I did. I hated her for leaving me in a house with a dad who could give a verbal tongue lashing that left deeper scars that if he had just knifed you, with a mom who was too busy juggling her full-time job as an alcoholic with her part-time job in real estate. Neither one of them ever knew what was going on with their own kids. I hated this place for changing her somehow. And I hated myself for being so selfish and not coming with her when I had the chance. I was used to defending her from other kids who saw her as an easy target. I could only assume that’s what happened here and I wasn’t there to protect her. She threw herself in front of a train a month after she came home … just a week before she was going to start eighth grade. I should have come with her. I should have been here to defend her. I failed her,” he explains, his voice full of regret, anger, and pain.

  “You didn’t fail her, Miller.”

  “It took a lot for me to understand that. I was really messed up for a long time, Kinley. I dropped out of school before my junior year. I was a walking zombie those first two years of high school … amazed that I actually passed my freshman and sophomore years. Everywhere I looked I saw what Kara should have been doing. I saw girls excited over trying out for cheerleading and show choir. Other girls leading the debate team to state championships. Kara should have been a part of all of that. I knew once Kara got to high school she would have broken out of her shell. She would have seen all the opportunities she had. I couldn’t take being in that town anymore and Kara not being there, too. So, when I was sixteen, I left.” Miller looks down, seemingly uncertain if he’s made the right decision to share all of this with me.

  “Are you sure you want to tell me all of this, Miller? It’s so personal,” I say.

  “Kinley, you have no idea how badly I want to tell you this. When I said that I felt connected with you, I meant it. I think we understand each other, and it’s … nice … to have someone to talk to.”

  I know exactly what he’s talking about. So many times I wished I had someone to talk to about things, like how sometimes I miss my mom so much I think I’m going to die, or the days I feel like I’m not good enough for anyone, especially Addy.

  “It’s definitely nice to have someone to talk to.” I smile, cuing him to continue sharing his story with me. “So, where did you go when you left? What did you do?”

  “I hooked up with my friend Mikey and we started working odd jobs so we could pay his sister some kind of rent. Things were going great for a while, but when we started using the money for tattoos, beer, and betting on pool games, she kicked us out. He had a friend who had moved to Georgia a year earlier so we took what little money we had left, filled up his car with gas, and drove. We barely stopped to sleep and survived on Red Bull and generic gas station corn chips the whole time.” He laughs now, recalling that time. It sounds terrible. I’m glad he can look back and laugh. There are so many things I look back on that still make me cry.

  “What did you do when you got to Georgia?” I ask.

  “We showed up at his buddy Carl’s place and asked if we could crash. His parents didn’t even bat an eye,” he answers.

  “Oh, I thought his friend was on his own like you two.”

  “So did Mikey. But it turned out Carl wasn’t the same guy Mikey used to know. He cleaned up his act … was finishing up his GED. Mikey tried to get him to go out with us. He did a couple of times, but drinking and playing pool until three in the morning wasn’t his thing anymore. Mikey and I never skipped a beat, though. Our first night there we didn’t come back until dawn. But the night we got arrested, everything changed.” The expression on his face tells me he’s waiting to see how I’m going to respond to this piece of Miller Conrad history.

  “What changed?” I ask as I stare unflinching at miller. I’m curious, but his story doesn’t change anything for me and how I feel about Miller.

  He gives a small, tight-lipped smile and continues. “Carl’s mom and dad bailed us out.”

  “Really?” This I am shocked to hear. Why would they do something like that for two messed up kids they just met?

  “Yeah. Kate, that’s Carl’s mom, his dad is Roger. Anyway, Kate picked us up at five in the morning and brought us home. She never said anything but to ask if we were okay. She didn’t even ask what we did. After we got back we just went upstairs to crash. I couldn’t sleep though. I felt bad that we had put them through that and then she never even said anything. She didn’t kick us out. She never even lectured us. My parents would have, and did on several occasions, torn me a new one.

  “I got up a couple of hours later and Kate was in the kitchen making a huge breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes. She even had actual fresh-squeezed orange juice,” he recalls with an astonished, breathy laugh. “I sat down and she filled a plate and set it down in front of me. I gotta tell you … that was a breaking point. It was the first time I’d ever seen a mom be a mom. I broke down and cried and she just sat there with me.”

  Miller pauses, collecting himself. His emotions are welling up and I can understand why. To be mothered in such a nurturing way is very emotional. It’s one of the main reasons why I miss my mom so much. Dad doesn’t know what to do with us girls and Christine only knows how to personally connect with Addison. Sometimes you just need a mom to sit with you while you cry.

  Another way that Miller and I connect.

  “So I’m guessing they’re the ones who got you to finish your GED. That’s awesome, Miller,” I tell him with a huge smile.

  “They were also the ones who look
ed at my artwork and told me they thought I could really make something of it. They helped me get some scholarships and financial aid that won’t leave me in financial ruin after I graduate.”

  “They sound like amazing people.”

  “You’re amazing.” Miller smiles and all of the sudden I don’t know what to do with my hands or where to look.

  “I’m not. I’m mediocre at best, and I went emotionally overboard back there.”

  “Hey,” he says stopping us and taking me by the shoulders. “You are amazing. I’ve never been friends with anyone who cared so deeply about me. It means a lot to me that you reacted so genuinely, so please don’t ruin this moment for me by making excuses or apologies. Don’t ever apologize for your feeling, especially if it has to do with me.” Miller pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. I hug him back and a rush of warmth washes over me. All of the sudden I feel like I could fall asleep. Not because I’m tired or sleepy, but because there’s something so soft and safe and warm about this place in Miller’s arms.

  A ping in my chest sends Cal’s name running through my mind and I immediately think that my enjoying Miller’s embrace so much is somehow wrong. I pull away from Miller as naturally as I can and refocus the conversation back to him.

  “So, um … you came to Lake Hollis because Kara was here?” I ask.

  “Uh … yes. If you can’t tell, I spent some time in therapy. Kate and Roger insisted. I kept having nightmares. I would see her standing on the tracks and I’d be running toward her. No matter how fast I ran or how loudly I called her name, telling her to move, I could never get there in time. So, yeah. My head was in need of some head shrinkage,” he laughs.

  “Did it help?” I ask him.

  “It did. And, me coming here, is all part of it. I got to a certain place where I had reconciled what happened. I had forgiven Kara for choosing to quit like that. I had forgiven myself for not being there for her like I should have. Once I was there I was able to really grieve. It left me missing her like crazy. She was the only person in my life who ever really saw me. All the stupid stuff I used to do didn’t matter. She knew me. She knew my heart. The empty feeling left in your gut when the only person who never judged you is gone is devastating. So, my therapist thought it would be a good idea for me to try to connect with Kara by revisiting places she had been.”

  “Did you go home? See you parents?” I can’t imagine what that was like. How did they treat him after all this time? Were they happy to see him? Did they miss him? They should have. They should have missed him and been so happy to see him that they couldn’t stand it. Their son was gone and they should have been devastated when he left, especially on the heels of Kara’s death.

  “It wasn’t the warmest of welcomes. They didn’t believe me when I told them I had my act together. The tattoos didn’t help. All I wanted was to lay on Kara’s bed and dream of the days when she was here, when we had each other, but my parents had packed all of her stuff up. They got rid of most of it and sent what was left to storage. Anything I had left was gone, too – not that I wanted it. There was no trace of me or Kara left in that house. When I got to the storage unit all that was there of Kara’s were two boxes. Honestly, I was surprised it was that much.” Miller shakes his head, still not able to understand how parents could so willingly erase the existence of a child from their home.

  “Part of me coming out here in the mornings is because of her. She was a serious morning person. Up with or before the sun most of the time. She had this internal alarm clock …” Miller stops and smiles a little before letting it turn into an almost face-splitting grin.

  “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “How do you look back and laugh or even smile at any of this? It all just seems so … painful,” I say. I can’t wrap my brain around the freedom it would require.

  “Well, that’s probably part of the story that’s better saved for when we have more time.” He points to The Lodge and I realize that my amazing morning with Miller has come to an end.

  “I guess so.” I twist my mouth in a disappointed smile. We walk the rest of the way to the cabin in silence, me mulling over everything that Miller has unraveled from the depths of his soul. Vulnerability flowed so easily from him. His story rolled off his tongue like silk and he didn’t flinch once.

  “I’m glad I met you, Kinley Carmichael,” Miller says with a smile as we stop at the porch of The Lodge. “You’ve got two really great … ears.” We both laugh at his fake-out on inappropriateness. I take the first step on the porch when Miller stops me. “Seriously, though … if I find nothing else this summer, I found you.”

  I bite my lip and then smile insufficiently at Miller. What he just looked me in the eye and said are the sweetest words anyone has ever spoken to me. My heart races a little at the enormity of it and I find myself just a little braver in this moment than I’ve ever been. I lean in and kiss Miller on the cheek. “Right back at ya.”

  We part ways, me heading straight up stairs and Miller going to the kitchen for coffee. I creak open my bedroom door, doing my best not to wake Amy, and then crawl back into bed. I close my eyes and wait until I absolutely have to get up. I lay there and think about Miller, and his sister. A well of emotions springs up in me again and my eyes sting with tears. Sadness for Miller’s pain fills me again, followed by anger. Anger? Why am I angry? I’m angry at Kara! How could she do that to Miller? Screw her eff’d up parents. It’s easy to see why she couldn’t tell them what was troubling her. But why wouldn’t she tell Miller she was hurting so badly? He would have been there for her in a heartbeat!

  Okay, Kinley. Calm down. Miller is at peace. You don’t need to take this on for him. Refocus. Remember the sunrise.

  The sunrise. The sunrise was amazing. I’m so happy that Miller came and got me for it. I know I got some incredible shots, and I would never have them if it weren’t for Miller. I don’t think I’ll show them to Mr. Fellows, though. I want to keep them for myself. They’ll always be a reminder of this time with Miller. They’ll always remind me of how he bore his soul to me, and how my soul soaked it in. I didn’t realize it was so thirsty, but I’m sure my soul has ever been given so much. Miller Conrad just quenched a drought in me that I didn’t realize was there. To say that I’m eternally grateful for his friendship will forever be an understatement. By sharing his life with me, he’s changed mine.

  Chapter 8

  At breakfast, the division between our friends is clear. I sit down at an empty table and am quickly joined by Carrie, Bridget, Amy, and Matthew. Dave and Pete follow close behind, but Cal takes his regular seat with Brandon and Ted and the rest of Addison’s group. He looks at me and smiles, but doesn’t seem bothered by me not sitting with him. Not even a quizzical look.

  “So, who’s going to fill us in on why we’re avoiding the others? I mean, not that I mind all that much. And will there be any ass-kicking involved?” Pete says.

  “Addison rammed the insensitive bitch train into Kinley’s heart last night,” Amy tells him. I give her a stern look and she shrugs. “What? She did!”

  “Cool. Well, not cool. But I’m all for presenting a united front against bitchery,” Pete answers with a smile.

  “Hey, everybody … Kinley,” Miller says, approaching our table. He grins at me and it feels like I just relived the joy of our morning all over again. “What’s going on?”

  “Miller! I’m over here! I saved you a seat!” Addy calls before anyone can answer Miller. Addy bats her eyes and leans forward on the table, her arms folded and pushing her boobs up in her low cut T-shirt. Classic Addy.

  “She saved you a seat,” I say to him.

  “I heard her,” Miller says as he sets his tray on the table and sits down next to me. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” he whispers to me.

  “No,” I tell him. Explaining Addison’s cruelty to me is all Miller needs to solidify the assessment of Addison I’d been so strongly arguing against. He nee
ds to make his decision about Addy based on his own experience. Miller nods and we all move on in random conversation. Dave gives us a little too much information on his womanizing, causing all of us to jokingly chastise him for preying on unsuspecting newbie counselors, and Bridget and Carrie begin to shoo us all out so they can get a head start on pulling out craft supplies. They’re building the obligatory camp birdhouse today and it’s apparently much more involved than the tongue depressor frames they made the other day.

  “Do you need any help?” I ask them as the rest of my friends make their way to their assigned activities.

  “No, we’re good,” Carrie says.

  “Yeah, we strategized the other day about how to get it all out and set up without going insane. Now we’re just crossing our fingers that no one loses theirs during this project!” Bridget continues.

  “As long as you’re sure! Let me at least get some shots of you two before I head out.” I pull out my camera take some pictures of the girls sorting supplies, and then a few nice ones of my two friends who didn’t hesitate to come to my side last night.

  I leave them to their duties and begin my walk across the camp to the hiking trail when I see Margaret sitting on the steps to her cabin. She’s hugging her knees and looks pretty sad. I don’t want to immediately intrude, but think that maybe all she needs is someone to interact with her and cheer her up.

  “Hey, Margaret! What’s the word of the day?” I ask. She’s been giving me a new, interesting word every day that I see her.

  “Hi. Kinley. Um … how about metanoia? It means the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life,” she says with not as much enthusiasm as she has on previous days.

  “You have no idea how timely that word is for me,” I tell her as I sit next to her on the steps. “I had a bit of a falling out with someone and I think I’m in the midst of this metanoia.” She makes a tightlipped smile and nods only slightly. “Are you alright, Margaret? You seem a little out of sorts today? Is it the girls in your cabin? Are they giving you any trouble?”