by Shana Norris
Aunt Lydia looked as if I had slapped her. She froze, one hand hovering in the space between us. Her face had paled so white her skin looked papery.
A part of me regretted my words, but another part of me surged with anger toward my aunt that I had hidden away for the last four years. We had been so close at one time. She had been the only person who understood me. And she had just left. She never visited, never called. She probably didn’t even want me there this summer at all.
“Jude isn’t the one who hurt me,” I said as I pushed past her out of the tiny bathroom.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My phone rang as I looked over the clothes scattered across my bed for the hundredth time. I had all of my most casual clothes spread on the mattress to examine but now I faced a problem I had never really had before: I couldn’t decide what to wear.
Usually, Mom kept all of my clothes organized into outfits in my closet, so dressing was easy. I hated to think of it as my mom picking out my clothes for me, so I always called it simply a time-saver.
But it was true. My mother picked out my clothes. And now without her approval, I was a mess.
I should have checked the caller I.D. before I answered the phone, but I tapped the screen without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Hannah!” Natalie’s voice squealed in my ear so loud that I had to hold the phone away from my head to keep my eardrum from exploding.
“Hi, Natalie,” I said.
“I have awesome news,” Natalie said, sounding extra bubbly today. “You know how my parents were having trouble deciding where to go for summer vacation this year?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking over the clothes again. Maybe the white eyelet top with the straight jeans? Or was the top still too dressy for climbing Chimney Rock and then going to the fireworks show tonight?
“Well, it turns out that my dad has some sort of business trip he has to go on,” Natalie went on. “It’s like a last minute thing. The company wants him to talk to some investors at another branch. You’ll never guess where.”
“Hawaii?” I said, barely listening to the conversation. Maybe I should go with the red T-shirt and denim shorts. Simple, casual, good for hiking and picnicking.
“No! Paris! Can you believe it? So my parents have decided that we’ll all go there for our vacation. My dad can do his thing while the rest of us enjoy the trip.”
I felt as if ice water had been poured down the back of my shirt. I gripped the phone in one hand, my fingernails digging into the hard plastic.
“Isn’t this awesome?” Natalie went on, oblivious to the panic attack starting to take hold of me. “I thought we could get together once I’m there. You can show me all the places you’ve been hanging out and introduce me to those hot French guys.”
This was not happening. Natalie could not be going to Paris, the place where she thought I was spending my summer. I had planned everything out so perfectly. I had managed to disappear from Willowbrook without anyone suspecting anything. Now it was all crumbling to pieces. I couldn’t tell Natalie where I really was. I couldn’t tell her why I had lied and left Willowbrook the way I did. No one knew yet about my dad, and I wanted to keep that secret for as long as possible.
“I’ve never been to Paris,” Natalie said. “What kind of clothes should I bring? What do you think about my blue lace dress? The one I got last summer? I don’t want to stick out like an American tourist. I’ve been practicing my French so I can blend in—”
“You can’t come to Paris,” I blurted out.
Natalie laughed. “Of course I can. My parents are planning everything out now. We’ll be there for a week, but I’m trying to talk my parents into letting me stay longer. I figured I could stay with you and fly back when you did. What hotel are you in?”
“No,” I said firmly as I plopped down on the bed, landing on top of the perfectly ironed red T-shirt. “You can’t come.”
Natalie was silent for a moment, then she said, “So what are you saying? You don’t want me to come visit you?”
I swallowed, my dry tongue scraping across the roof of my mouth. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. I don’t want you here.”
“Well,” Natalie said, “if that’s how you feel, then I won’t bother.” I knew I had hurt her feelings. I could tell in the strained tone in her voice.
“I’m just really busy,” I said, sighing. “My parents and I are spending some quality time together. My mom insists that I stay with them most of the time. You know how she is.”
“Yeah,” Natalie said in a monotone voice. “Whatever.”
“Natalie, I’m really sorry—”
“Save it. You know what, Hannah? I don’t believe anything you’re saying. You’ve been acting really weird for months. I don’t think it’s your parents, I think it’s you. You think you’re better than everyone else. If you think you’re too good to be friends with me, you could have said so long ago instead of making things up.”
“Natalie—”
The line went dead.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jude waited under the tree outside his house. Above him a bright orange shirt that said “Chicks dig me” flapped in the breeze.
“We’re going to the top today,” Jude said as he settled into the passenger seat of my car. “I can feel it. Today is the day.”
“Keep dreaming,” I told him.
He wagged his finger at me. “I’ll get you up there eventually.”
We rode in silence during the drive to Chimney Rock. I kept thinking about the phone call with Natalie. I didn’t mean to make her angry, but I couldn’t let her go to Paris assuming she was going to meet up with me when I wasn’t even there. Yet, I couldn’t tell her the truth. I had spent too much time building the lies and the cover ups. If Natalie saw weakness, she would pounce on it and take advantage just for the fun of it. I had seen her tear down other people in school because of things about themselves or their families that they couldn’t control.
She wasn’t bad all the time. If she liked you, she was loyal as long as everything was perfect. She was Mom-approved: a good family, good status in the community, good connections. After my fall-out with Avery and Elliott in seventh grade, I was lonely and Natalie happened to be the first person who let me into her circle. I would be eternally grateful to her for not letting me spend the next few years friendless.
But I still couldn’t tell her everything. I had protect myself and my family.
I pushed aside thoughts of Natalie, determined to enjoy the day. It was a nice day, a little cloudy so not too hot. Shadows of clouds slipped over the sides of the mountains as I sped along the already familiar road to the state park. It was beautiful here, like the mountains were a barrier that kept the outside world from intruding on us. I could almost imagine not going back to Willowbrook, hiding out here in Asheville for the rest of my life and never having to deal with my parents again.
Was that why Aunt Lydia had come here? Had she wanted to hide from everyone else?
Chimney Rock was busy, as usual, full of families and hikers. I stared up at the rock towering overhead as we started up the trail. It was kind of magnificent, in its own terrifying way. I could see why Jude liked it. The rock structure was fascinating, something only nature could have thought to create.
But I couldn’t see how the people walked across that little bridge that spanned the gap to the top of the rock as if it were solid ground.
I squeezed my eyes shut as dizziness passed over me.
“Let’s sit down,” Jude suggested.
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Let’s keep going.”
We went as far as I could go, all the way to the bridge of stairs that stopped me every time. Jude raised his eyebrows at me, waiting.
I took a deep breath, one hand on the rail. I craned my head back to look up. It was too high, too far above the ground. Too easy for something to go horribly wrong.
I shook my head and stepped away. “I can’t.”
> Jude slipped an arm over my shoulder. “Okay, that’s enough for today. Let’s go back down.”
We made our way down the rock in silence, Jude’s hand on my shoulder as we walked. Having his constant touch on me made me feel secure and stopped the tremble in my legs.
“You know you’re already above sea level,” Jude said once we were in his truck and on the road back to his neighborhood. “Just being here in Asheville.”
“I know,” I said. “But this still feels like solid ground. Going on that bridge is different.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Jude said as he turned a corner.
I looked at him across the small gap between us on the bench seat, but the flush creeping up my neck made it impossible to maintain eye contact when he glanced my way. I turned and watched the world pass by outside the window. A family walked down the street together, each parent holding the hand of a small child.
I tried to think of a time my parents and I might have been like that—smiling and happy, relaxed and enjoying each other’s company. I had a vague memory of a trip to the beach. It must have been long, long ago. Back when my dad had started his first bank branch, back when extra money for trips was hard to come by. I could remember my mom sitting on a beach towel, laughing at my dad, who had gotten pinched on the toe by a crab that he wouldn’t leave alone. The sun shimmered in Mom’s hair, making her look so pretty and young. Dad had tried to look mad, but even he ended up laughing.
It was probably one of the last family trips we’d had. After that, Dad became so involved in his work that he rarely took time off. Mom and I would go on vacations without him, and as I got older, Mom would spend her time at the spa in whatever vacation spot we happened to be and I would be on my own to explore the sights.
I couldn’t tell Natalie my secrets, but I wanted to tell someone. Everything I’d been keeping in felt so suffocating and I needed to get it out to someone who wouldn’t judge me.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I didn’t look at Jude as I spoke. I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I’d lose the small amount of courage I had to say the words.
“Sure,” he said.
I squeezed my hands together between my knees as the truck bounced down the road. “My dad is in rehab.”
It was the first time I’d spoken the words out loud. I had never told anyone before, not even Mark. He had found out from Mom, and I assumed Aunt Lydia had found out the same way.
“He’s addicted to these pills,” I said. “Vicodin, mostly. It’s been going on for a while, but I’m not sure exactly how long. I found the bottles in my parents’ room. They didn’t even have his name on them, so I knew they weren’t his.”
Jude didn’t talk when I fell silent. He reached over and put his hand over mine. For a moment, the only sound was the soft squeaking of the truck’s shocks as it bumped down the road.
“One day, at a party we were hosting, I found him passed out on his bedroom floor. We couldn’t wake him up. I thought…” I swallowed as tears stung my eyes. “I thought he was dead. Mom was so afraid the neighbors would see and ask questions, so she made the ambulance come in the back way, to the back door. Like we had to sneak him out of the house to hide our shame. We got him into a rehab center in Greenville. Mom wanted to send him across the country, but Dad wouldn’t go that far. He said he couldn’t be that far from his office.” I laughed. “Even in rehab, all he cares about is his work.”
Jude ran a hand through his hair. “Is that why you’re here this summer?”
I shrugged. “Part of it. I was supposed to be in Paris, with my mom. She still went, even after what happened with Dad. But I couldn’t stand the thought of spending the summer with her, pretending everything was fine. I had to go somewhere else, so I came here.”
We reached Jude’s house and he pulled the truck to a stop in his driveway. I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands. Part of me couldn’t believe I had actually told Jude all of that. He could tell everyone my secret if he wanted. But the other part of me was relieved that someone else finally knew.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m pretty messed up. The rules, the dad in rehab, the delusional mother. It’s pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic,” Jude said, rubbing his hand over my head. “You’re a normal human being. We all have our little things we try to hide.”
I sat up and looked at him. “What’s yours then?”
He stared at the house through the windshield for a long time. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he swallowed.
“I can’t move on from my brother’s death,” he said, “even though I know it’s time.”
“Maybe it’s not time,” I said. “Maybe you’re not ready.”
He shook his head. “It’s been ten months. It’s time, and I know it’s time. But I just can’t…” He took a deep breath. “You still want to know what’s up with the shirt in the tree?”
I nodded.
“It’s Liam’s shirt,” Jude said. “Before he left, he hung his favorite shirt in the tree. He said every time I came outside, I could look at it and it would be like he was standing there. Like he was here, watching out for us. He made me promise that I would keep a shirt hanging there until he came home and could take it down himself.”
Jude swiped at his eyes with his palms. “And I’ve kept it there,” he said, his voice growing husky. “For a year and a half, I’ve hung a shirt in that tree every day. Even after the guys in uniforms showed up at our door to tell us he was dead, I still kept my promise and hung a shirt in that damn tree. But he didn’t keep his promise.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling him shudder next to me. His hand was warm when I slipped mine into it, my fingers filling the spaces between his.
“I know I shouldn’t be mad with him. But sometimes, I’m so angry all I want to do is climb that rock and scream at him. He promised to come home and take that shirt down. And now, even when I know he’s never coming home, I can’t take it down myself. I had planned to enlist like he did and get money for college, but I don’t know what to do anymore without him. He always made the plans and I followed. I can’t even paint my own truck because we were going to do it when he came back. I’m stuck in the exact same place I’ve been ever since he left, and I don’t know how to make myself move on. All of the things we planned, everything we said we would do together, it’s all gone. What does it all matter anymore?”
Cars passed by on the street behind us. It was what life did, it kept moving on even you couldn’t.
“Someone told me that the way you get yourself unstuck is to be the person you want to be, not the person you think you should be,” I said. “It’s okay to mourn your brother. It’s okay to be angry. But you’re still here and you still matter.”
He turned his head toward me. Our noses were only a breath apart.
“You’re the only person besides my brother who has ever said that,” Jude told me.
I smiled. “I don’t think anyone has ever said it to me.”
He reached up, trailing a finger over my chin. “You are not your parents, and you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. What they’ve done is not your problem.”
“Sometimes it feels like my whole life is a lie. Everything that people think they know about me isn’t true. And sometimes, I’m not even sure what I know about myself.”
“I know this person sitting right here,” Jude said. “And she matters.”
His lips were warm and soft, just the slightest brush across my nose that sent a tingle sparking through me. Then over my cheek, my jaw, my chin. And finally his lips met mine in a kiss that made my body explode in sensation. My arms moved around his neck and his slipped around my waist, pulling me into him.
I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. I had never felt this much longing for someone, had never felt this need to be as close as possible. I wanted to stay right there forever. Jude and I were the only two people in the entire world in that moment. Everything else had
faded into nothing. It didn’t matter, only what was happening between the two of us was real.
Jude pulled back slightly, his breathing heavy as he looked at me. “Do you want to come inside?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Is your mom home?” I asked.
Jude shook his head. “She’s out,” was all he said, his voice tight.
The house had the stale odor of old cigarettes and newspapers. A thick layer of dust coated the table in the front entryway and the shade on the lamp was crooked. My mom would have had a fit to see this. Jude led me into a kitchen, where dirty dishes littered the countertops. An ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts sat in the middle of the table and the trash can in the corner was stuffed with beer cans.
“Sorry,” Jude said. “I haven’t had a chance to clean today.”
I tried not to notice the cracked linoleum floor or the stained curtain that hung over the window. “It’s okay,” I said.
Jude walked with his head down, as if he couldn’t bear to look at the state of his own home. I wanted to tell him that it didn’t bother me, but the truth was, it did. Despite my efforts, I felt my nose crinkling up at the sight of a half-eaten slice of pizza on a plate that someone had left on a table in the hall. Big, dark splotches stained the beige carpet. The smell of cigarettes permeated every room we walked through, making my nose burn. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head. “Filthy. Disgusting. Low class. Not our kind of people, Hannah.”
I wanted to scream at my mother to get out of my head. This was Jude, the exact same person I’d been spending time with for weeks now. So what if his house didn’t look like mine? At least he never had to worry about whether his fingerprints showed on everything he touched. No one freaked out when a magazine was out of place.
