by Avery Sawyer
“I don’t think they will,” I said. It sounded lame, even to me.
“I think it’s better if we just stay friends. I’ll text you later.” He began climbing down the tree. I saw him pick up the crumpled can and sandal and walk back to his house. Just before he got to the door, he turned around. “You want a ride home?”
Leave it to Reno Weisman to make sure a girl’s ride situation is taken care of while he’s breaking her heart.
“No, I'm good,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear.
CHAPTER 37
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT
When I got home after what felt like the longest walk ever, I went straight to the bathroom. Whenever I was really upset, my mom always poured me a bubble bath and that’s what I did now. I turned the water on as hot as it would go and dumped almost half a bottle of shampoo in. I wanted to disappear in the bubbles. I peeled off my clothes and got in, even though the tub wasn’t half full yet. The water was so hot it made me gasp, but I didn’t turn the handle back. Instead, I sunk down, getting used to it.
Of course I was supposed to be with Reno. I’d always known I’d be with Reno. One after another, all the nice and special things he’d done for me popped into my brain. The time he’d tried to teach me to skateboard. Giving me his old iPod when he got a new one. Making me laugh when I was having a bad day at school. Quizzing me for the geography bee, even though it meant I’d beat him. Visiting me every day after I got out of the hospital, when no one else did. Suddenly I loved everything about him, from the hair hanging in his face to his hipster glasses to his fan-boy obsession with Joss Whedon. I was such an idiot not to realize sooner how important he was to me. Instead, he was always just Reno, the way the sun’s the sun or your mom’s your mom.
I noticed the water in the bathtub was getting too high, so I turned off the faucet and boiled in there, my skin pink. The bubbles—the mountainous globs of bubbles—failed to make me feel better. All I wanted was a text or a call from Reno, letting me know it was all okay, that he was sorry he had freaked out, that he’d be over right away and wouldn’t leave until I told him to. Instead, I heard nothing. My phone was so silent it was hostile.
I seriously wished I’d never walked over there last night.
“Honey, I need the bathroom. Are you almost done?” Mom knocked on the door. We had only one bathroom, which was a nightmare.
“I’m in the tub, Mom. Can you give me a minute?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from wobbling.
“One minute.” I heard her go back to her bedroom and I sighed and stood up. So much for that plan. I toweled off, put pajama pants and a t-shirt on, and went to curl up on the couch, pouting. I heard her go into the bathroom and come out a couple minutes later. “Are you sick?”
I considered the question. No, technically, I was not sick. But I wasn’t well either. “No.”
“What’s wrong? You never take baths.” She put her hands on her hips. Her hair was in a ponytail near the top of her head and her college glasses were shoved up there too. Study time.
“I’m fine.” I pulled the throw off the back of the couch and wrapped myself up in it. “Can we get a cat? Don’t say no.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom pulled her glasses off of her head and set them on the kitchen table. “Is it Reno?”
“A cat? Please?” I figured since I was a failure with humans I might as well try my luck with the animal world. Zelda was great and all, but you can’t cuddle a fish.
“Honey, I don’t know. We can talk about that later. Did you have a fight with him?” She sat next to me on the couch and rubbed my back. I glared at her. She should mind her own freaking business. She wasn’t exactly a genius when it came to guy problems.
“I have no friends,” I admitted, skirting her question. “Why can’t something good happen for a change?”
“Good things happen, sweetie. Listen, let’s make this a Larson Lady Day.” She grinned at me, and I looked at her like she was a lunatic. For one, I have Dad’s last name, not hers, so I’m not a Larson; and two, a “Lady Day” sounded like something you’d need a tampon for. “I promise you’ll like it. I invented them when I was just a little older than you. First, we give ourselves facials and drink tea. Second, we put on a Madonna album and sing along at the top of our lungs while having a dance contest. Third, we watch terrible romantic comedies and eat cookie dough until we’re about ready to puke. Sound good?”
“Not really.”
“I’ll heat some water for tea. Go find my mint clay mask stuff in the medicine cabinet.” She pulled out two mugs and some good-smelling chamomile tea from the cupboard. It wasn’t coffee, but I was willing to give it a try.
She daubed the mint stuff on my nose and for some reason, I let her.
“What if Emily doesn’t wake up?” I wanted Mom to tell me that everything would get easier. Her plan to fix things with cookie dough sounded silly, like throwing tomatoes at an army invading with tanks. I knew for a fact she didn’t believe in the power of Madonna and tea, because I’d seen her depressed. I knew what that looked like. She folded up into herself, into her bed, and told life to shove it. Sometimes, you’ve got to feel bad for adults, really. They don’t have parents around anymore, demanding to know what’s wrong.
Even though I was old enough to know my mom couldn’t fix anything, not really, having her there to get in my face and drop what she was doing to make me feel better was kind of…better than nothing. I guess if all you’ve got is tomatoes, you throw the tomatoes.
“I don’t know, Robin. Keep expecting goodness.” She hugged me close. “It’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it will. I really believe it. Someday soon you’re going to be so deliriously happy that you’ll feel like you’re going to explode. And you’ll be glad you toughed out crappy days—weeks—like this. Not that we’re going to let today be crappy.” She put on the Wicked soundtrack and started singing “Defying Gravity.” Mom is completely tone deaf, so it sounded horrible. But kind of funny too. I sang along with her, and even though I felt like a dumbass bellowing Broadway with my mom in a green face mask on a Saturday morning, I did feel the tiniest bit better.
“Wow. Your voice…I never noticed before how pretty your singing voice is, honey.” I immediately stopped singing. “No, don’t stop. It sounded lovely.”
“Um, thanks.” I stayed quiet. For a moment or two I felt happy, even cozy, with my mom in our kitchen, with green stuff on my nose. And being happy wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t allowed while Em slept, hovering between life and death. “Emily would have been better off if she’d never met me,” I mumbled. Mom stared at me, hard. She immediately turned off the music.
“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk,” she said. Her voice was hard. It surprised me. I figured the general consensus was Emily would have been better off without me. Without our stupid climb to the top of the Sling Shot. I mean, right?
“Huh?” I wiped my nose, which was moist as I hovered near tears.
“Your dad always used to say that. ‘You’d be better off if you’d never met me.’ It used to make me so angry, because it’s like he thought he was so awful he was off the hook from having to try to do better, from having to try to be happy. We did meet. And I was glad we did. Just like Emily was glad she met you.” Mom gripped the back of the kitchen chair opposite me, as if it was trying to escape from the room.
“Oh.” I watched her face, chastened.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? We all make mistakes. We all mess up. The trick is to wake up the next day and keep trying, keep showing up, keep jumping into the deep end even when it’s scary. When you ran away from home that time, I thought to myself, ‘she’s her father’s daughter.’ But please don’t be…you’ll miss so much. Participate, Robin. You have so many gifts.” She relaxed her grip on the chair and turned the music back on, quieter than it was before.
“I think I get it.” I whispered. I wouldn’t have minded having a long talk about what she
thought these “gifts” might be, but I left it alone. We started signing again, Mom in her off-key warble and me in my tentative soprano.
When she went to the Publix to get us some movies out of the vending machine thingy, I made it Notes official:
I like to sing. Maybe I’ll do it in front of other people someday.
CHAPTER 38
DONUTS
We didn’t adopt a cat. My mom was lukewarm on having a litter box in our small apartment, but the real reason was that I couldn’t choose just one. So many sweet cats at the humane society needed homes. I asked the lady working there if I could come in to play with them and give out cuddles once or twice a week, and she said yes.
While we were there, looking at all the pretty calicos and tabbies and Maine coons, I went almost two whole minutes not thinking about Reno. It was a slight improvement over the morning.
After that, we went to the hospital. I brought a box of donuts. There was so much to say, though, that I forgot to tell Emily they were all for her.
I don’t believe everything happens for a reason. But I still search for reasons anyway. It’s like I don’t want to admit that maybe everything really is totally random…that people are just molecules in the air, bumping into each other and floating away again.
“I kissed Reno. Or he kissed me. Both, I think. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because he thinks it only happened ‘cause my feelings are all effed up because of my head injury. I finally realize I’ve been in love with Reen this whole time and get up the guts to do something about it, and bazinga: rejected. And the worst part is, I totally deserved it. I don’t know what to do, Em. Ever since it happened this morning, he’s all I can think about. I used to go weeks without thinking about Reno, and now I can’t even go ten minutes. If you can hear me you must be laughing your ass off somewhere in there. Did you ever think this would happen? I didn’t.”
I stopped. I sounded kind of giddy. I took a few deep breaths. Emily was lying ever-so-slightly on her side, as if she wanted to curl up into herself. “Sorry. You probably have better things to think about than my truly pathetic love life, but I just had to tell you. The kiss was…well, it was kind of amazing. It happened—oh this is the best part. It happened in his magnolia tree, up high on the platform with Spanish moss hanging all around us. If he hadn’t left right after, I think I would have stayed up there with him forever…” I trailed off, thinking about how nice it would be to still be in Reno’s tree, far away from everything else, protected by him and by the moss. “Anyway, but the thing is, he did leave and I kind of want to lie down next to you and sleep for a week. At least I don’t have to face him at school on Monday.”
I thought about how when Emily and I used to find each other every morning before homeroom, I always let her talk first. She usually had more to say, and it was just easier to let her get it all out before trying to tell her anything. It was one of her tiny little faults, that she only remembered to say “and how was your night?” after twenty straight minutes of recapping hers. Now, I missed it. It felt so unnatural to be the only one yammering on and on.
The door to her room, which was ajar, opened fully and a young man with red hair and freckles poked his head in. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “I’ll come back.”
“No, it’s okay,” I called out. I didn’t recognize him, but I didn’t want to hog Emily’s precious visiting hours all to myself if there was someone else who needed to speak to her.
He came fully into the room and I saw that he was wearing a paramedic’s uniform. He had a single flower in his hand, in a tiny bud vase. The smallness of it made it more touching, somehow, than if it had been a whole huge bouquet. “I wanted to see how she’s doing,” he said, setting the flower down on the table next to the bed. “I don’t mean to stay.”
“I…I think she’s the same,” I said. “She just won’t wake up. Were you…were you there that night?” I couldn’t remember Em saying she had any EMTs for relatives.
“I was. I’m Warren,” He stuck out his hand and I shook it, mystified. This person standing before me had saved my life. I saw the recognition bloom in his eyes. “Are you…were you there that night? You have short hair now.” He looked a little uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure if he should be talking to me or not.
“Yes. I’m Robin. Thank you for, um, being there. Saving me.” I touched my hair self-consciously and I saw him bite his lower lip. He’d just figured it out that I’d pretty much had to cut my hair because of the whole brain injury thing. “Please stay a minute and talk to me.” I sat up. Maybe Warren could help me figure a few things out. “Please.”
“How are you? That was a bad fall,” Warren said. He sat on the one other chair in the room, but I noticed that he didn’t exactly lean back and make himself comfortable. “The worst I’ve ever seen, really, but I’m pretty new at this.”
“Yeah. Well. Um, I’m doing better than I was,” I said. “I feel pretty good. But I miss her.” I squeezed Em’s hand and took a few deep breaths so I wouldn’t cry. “I wish she was the one sitting here talking instead of me. She was a lot more interesting,” I added.
Warren smiled. “I’m sure she misses you, too. I bet she’s glad you’re okay.”
“Maybe. I wish there was something more I could do to help her. Right after I woke up, I was sure there was something I had to remember about that night. Something really important. But now I don’t know. Maybe I was just confused. Maybe I felt guilty because I landed on her and that’s why I’m okay and she’s not. Did I land on her?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Warren said quickly. You could tell he didn’t want to say anything to upset me. It was frustrating. I could take it; I just wanted the truth.
“Dr. Kline said I was awake during the ride over here that night, but I don’t remember any of that,” I tried. I searched his honey-colored eyes with mine, but I didn’t remember anything new.
“That’s very normal,” Warren nodded.
“What was I saying?” I asked. I leaned toward him. “Do you remember anything?”
“You weren’t making any sense. I’m so sorry. I wish I could help you more.” Warren stood up. “I’m glad to see you’re okay. I always try to check on her when I have time, but I should go.”
“Thank you. I…thank you.” I put my hands in my lap and watched him, wanting more information than he had to give me.
Warren left, shutting the door gently behind him.
CHAPTER 39
SECRETS
Aunt Susan was supposed to arrive at the Marriott just off of International Drive at six p.m. Mom was seriously anxious as we waited for her in the ginormous lobby. She checked her watch every thirty seconds, and she kept redoing her low ponytail. If she didn’t knock it off, I was going to have to tell her to go wait in Max’s car.
“Mom, why are you so nervous?” I asked. “She’s your sister. I wish I had a sister,” I added in a lower voice.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she replied. I glared at her. Is there anything on earth more irritating than an adult telling a teenager they wouldn’t understand? “Sorry. We just have a lot of history that I don’t want to go into right now. We can talk about it later.”
“Fine. But I’m glad I invited her. She was probably lonely on her houseboat all of those years, did you ever think of that?” I said. I admit it: I was being a little asshole-ish. But seriously, if you have a sister you should make an effort to get along with her. Emily’s mom had four sisters, and there was always at least one of them at the Sampson’s kitchen counter, drinking coffee or wine and complaining about the traffic on I-4.
Speaking of coffee, Mom was sucking on a venti coffee from Starbucks, which she never does because she thinks it’s too expensive, and pacing around me. I really, really hoped that Susan wasn’t late. I couldn’t take this much longer. Thank God we’d arranged to meet her at the hotel and not at home. I’d have to lock my mother in my room or tell her to run around the block. “How does she make money?” I asked.
“Money?”
“Yeah. Like for food.” I loved the idea of living on a boat so much I wanted to start planning for it now. What sort of job could you do if you refused to go hang out on dry land?
“I have no idea. She probably paints or sculpts or something ridiculous. The last time I checked, she was a dreamer just like your father.” Mom seemed to think it was fine to appreciate art, just not make any of it.
We lapsed into silence, but then, thank Christ, I saw someone who had to be her come in the large sliding doors. She had one small suitcase and one big one, and wore a nice-looking pair of shorts with a jean jacket. Even though her hair was totally gray, Susan looked a lot like Mom. They had the same small build and blue eyes. She made a beeline for us. I watched Mom’s face, surprised that it was possible to see anger and love there at the same time. People baffle me; I’m not kidding. Susan dropped everything she was holding and hugged Mom so hard I wondered if either of them could breathe.
“Grace,” she gasped, finally pulling back after several long seconds. Her eyes glistened with tears and emotion. “Thank you for letting me…”
“Thank you for coming!” I finished for her. I gave Susan a hug—a gentle one—and grinned at her, determined not to let this reunion be weird. I gave Mom a stern look. She readjusted her hair yet again.
“Robin! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, holding me out for an inspection. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”
“Thanks,” Mom said, as if the compliment was for her. “It’s…nice to see you, Susan.”
The two sisters hugged again, and I saw them both relax a little bit. They busied themselves with finding my aunt’s room as I explained about falling off the Sling Shot.
“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be out running around like this?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”
