The Rules of You and Me

by Shana Norris

  “So why didn’t you join?” I asked.

  “Liam was older, and so he joined first,” Jude said. “I don’t know that he really wanted to, not like I did. But he said at least he’d get his college education paid for if he enlisted. So the plan was I’d enlist when he came back home to visit. We knew the odds of us ever being stationed in the same place were low, but we always did everything together. So Liam was going to go with me to cheer me on as I signed up. But then…” He rubbed at his chin. “Then just before he was scheduled to come home on leave, Liam died. Roadside bomb. Only one person in the truck survived.”

  I imagined Jude out there, somewhere halfway across the world, riding along in that truck with his brother. I imagined him not being here with me on this night. My throat tightened at the idea of it being Jude who was killed by that bomb and not his brother. I didn’t know Liam, so it was easier for me to live with his ghost than to think about the guy standing next to me no longer being there.

  Jude straightened, taking a deep breath. “Anyway, like everything else in my life, the army got put on hold. I still want to join sometimes, but other times I’m terrified. Sometimes I feel like it’s my fault he died, since it was my idea.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I told him. “He decided to join on his own.”

  Jude nodded. “I know. But now I don’t know what I’m really supposed to do anymore.”

  “Join the club,” I told him.

  He tilted his head. “You could do it, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Not be the person your parents want you to be,” Jude said. “Don’t go to Yale. Don’t be a lawyer.”

  I snorted. “Yes, and then my mother will disown me.”

  “Don’t you trust that if she really loves you, she’ll support whatever you want to do?”

  I had never thought of it in those terms, but now the question hung heavy in my mind as I considered it. “No,” I said. “She loves the person she wants me to be. I’m not sure that she really loves me as I am.”

  My chin quivered just the tiniest bit. If I didn’t pull myself back together, I would crumble right there.

  Maybe Jude knew. Without saying anything, he reached for me and pulled me into his arms, pressing my face against his shoulder. I breathed deep, inhaling the scent of him and closing my eyes at the comfort that spread through me.

  “I love you as you are,” he whispered in my ear. “I want to make sure you know at least one person does.”

  I lifted my head. His face hovered only the slightest space away from mine. I love you as you are, his voice echoed in my head. I love you…

  No one besides my family had ever said those words to me. I opened my mouth, my body trembling just a little—

  “Hannah?”

  I jumped at the sound of Aunt Lydia’s voice.

  “Yes?” I called back as I stepped away from Jude. I couldn’t keep doing this, letting myself lose control around him. I smoothed my hands over my skirt, as if smoothing that image of perfection back into place.

  “Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t run off,” Aunt Lydia called through the closed door. “Good night, Jude.”

  I could take a hint. I glanced at Jude and then quickly away. “I should go back inside for the debriefing,” I joked.

  “Don’t talk about me too much,” Jude said.

  “Only good things,” I promised as he bounded down the steps. I stood there until he climbed into his truck. He started the ignition, waving to me as he backed out of the driveway. I watched until he disappeared over the hill.

  #

  Aunt Lydia was silent as I closed and locked the door behind me. She sat on the arm of the couch, watching as I moved across the room. Finally, I crossed my arms and sighed.

  “Say it,” I said.

  She gave me an innocent look. “Say what?”

  “Whatever it is you’re dying to say.”

  Aunt Lydia pressed her lips together, then said, “I know you say that you and Jude are just friends—”

  “Because we are,” I interrupted.

  “I just want you to know that if you wanted something more with Jude, it wouldn’t be so terrible,” Aunt Lydia said.

  I raised my eyebrows. “I seem to recall you saying not too long ago that he might be a bad influence on me.”

  “Well,” Aunt Lydia said, “maybe I misjudged him. I don’t know Jude very well, I really only know what I’ve heard from other people. But sometimes the things people think they know about a person aren’t the whole truth.” She stood and walked toward me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Like you.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “People think they see this intelligent, driven girl. And you are those things. But while they might see someone who’s perfect and has it all together and too tough to let anything stop her, I know the truth.”

  I swallowed. “Which is?”

  Aunt Lydia kissed my forehead. “You’re softer than you let anyone see. And you bruise just as easily as the rest of us.”

  I blinked quickly through the blur in my eyes.

  “Anyway,” Aunt Lydia said, “I think I’ll go to bed early. I’m pretty tired. Jude is certainly a stimulating dinner guest.” She grinned and gave me a wink.

  “So let me get this straight,” I said as she started toward the hall. “You’ve changed your mind about him?”

  Aunt Lydia stopped and nodded. “I was wrong to judge him without knowing him. Maybe he’s made mistakes, but maybe he’s trying to make up for them now. He doesn’t seem as bad as I was led to believe.”

  “So you’re giving me permission to go out with him?”

  Aunt Lydia’s mouth curled into a half-smile. “Does that mean you want to go out with him?”

  “No!” Heat flushed up my neck. At the moment, I really had no idea what I wanted. “This is all hypothetical. We’re friends.”

  “Okay,” Aunt Lydia said with a small shrug. “If that’s what you say.”

  “Because it’s the truth!” I shouted as she disappeared down the hall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I opened my eyes and found myself nose-to-nose with a white horse.

  I blinked. No, not a horse. A unicorn. A very large, very white unicorn with a silver horn protruding from its head.

  “Happy birthday!” the unicorn shouted, in Aunt Lydia’s voice.

  Pushing my hair out of my face, I sat up and regarded the giant stuffed unicorn. “Please tell me you haven’t lost your mind,” I said.

  Aunt Lydia put the unicorn down between us and huffed in frustration. “Have you forgotten?”

  “Obviously,” I said as I rubbed sleep out of my eyes. A check of the clock told me it was ten minutes to eight.

  “Every year on your birthday, you used to tell me you wished for a unicorn,” Aunt Lydia said. “You always made up stories about the adventures you two would have.” She shook the stuffed animal at me. “So, I bought you a unicorn!”

  “That was when I was seven,” I said. How had she remembered that?

  Aunt Lydia shrugged. “Better late than never, right?” She reached for something on the bed behind her and then presented me with a cupcake, topped with pillowy yellow frosting and red sprinkles. “And a cupcake for the birthday girl,” she said.

  I smiled as I took the cupcake. “Thank you.”

  Aunt Lydia kissed my forehead. “No problem.” She sat back, looking at me with a soft smile on her face. “I’m really glad you came here this summer, Hannah. It’s been a long time since we had a chance to hang out like we used to.”

  I swirled a finger around the edge of the cupcake, scooping up some frosting. “I’m glad I came too.”

  Aunt Lydia patted my knee. “Go on and eat that, then get dressed. We’re going out for a big birthday breakfast.” She tugged on a strand of my hair. “Those streaks really do look good, by the way.”

  I grinned. “You already told me that.”

  “Just wanted to say it again.” A
unt Lydia bounced to her feet and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  It was too early for cake, but it was my birthday so I had the right to break all the rules. I ate the cupcake, brushing crumbs off the bed, and then got up to get dressed. I stopped in front of the mirror and studied my reflection. Seventeen. I still looked mostly like the same Hannah, except for the addition of two bright red stripes in my dark hair, framing each side of my face.

  But inside, I already felt like something had changed. I wasn’t the same Hannah that had come here a month ago. Mark was right. I could be anyone I wanted to be and not just the person I thought I should be. I had held myself back for too long.

  After I was dressed, I picked up my phone and checked the screen. No messages. No calls.

  I held the phone in my hand for a moment, staring at it until the screen went black from no activity. Then I pushed it into my pocket and went to find Aunt Lydia.

  We drove to Papa Gino’s and I gave Aunt Lydia a dubious look as she parked the car. We were the only ones in the parking lot.

  “Italian for breakfast?” I asked.

  “Italians eat breakfast too,” she said.

  “I don’t think I can handle lasagna at eight A.M.”

  “It won’t be lasagna,” she promised as she got out of the car.

  Mama Rita met us at the door. “Welcome!” she shouted, throwing her arms wide. She hugged Aunt Lydia and then me, nearly squeezing the breath out of me. “Happy birthday, Coccolona!”

  Coccolona? I raised my eyebrows at Aunt Lydia over Mama Rita’s shoulder.

  “This way, this way,” Mama Rita said when she let me go. “We have breakfast all ready for you.”

  As we followed Mama Rita to the table already set and decorated with bright red balloons and streamers, Aunt Lydia leaned toward me and whispered, “You should feel honored. Mama Rita gave you a pet name.”

  “Coccolona?” I asked.

  “It means cuddly one,” Aunt Lydia said. “That’s better than the one she gave me. Capretta means little goat.”

  We sat down and Mama Rita poured us both cups of coffee and glasses of orange juice. “Breakfast will be right out,” she told us. She beamed down at me. “Seventeen! How I remember those days. Enjoy it, Coccolona, it passes too quickly. One day, you look in the mirror and you see an old woman staring back at you.” She patted her gray hair, frowning. “Anyway, breakfast! I’ll be back.”

  Mama Rita disappeared into the kitchen and I reached for the creamer to stir into my coffee.

  “Has your mom or dad called yet?” Aunt Lydia asked.

  I shook my head, not looking up from my coffee cup. “Not yet.”

  “I’m sure they will,” she said.

  I shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

  Aunt Lydia cleared her throat. “Well, while we have a moment to ourselves, I wanted to give you your birthday gift.”

  “The unicorn wasn’t my gift?” I asked.

  Aunt Lydia laughed. “That was just a silly joke.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small red box. “This is your real gift.”

  I took the box. “Thank you,” I said. “You didn’t have to—”

  “I wanted to,” Aunt Lydia interrupted me. “Go ahead. Open it.” She looked as eager as a child on Christmas, but her smile showed nervousness.

  The box creaked a little when I opened it. Inside, nestled on a white satin pillow, was a tiny gold wishbone charm attached to a delicate chain.

  “It’s not much,” Aunt Lydia said. “I know you probably have all kinds of nice jewelry at home—”

  “It’s perfect,” I told her. “Thank you.”

  I took the necklace from the box and hooked it around my neck. The wishbone caught the light where it rested against my skin.

  “I wanted to give you a reminder,” Aunt Lydia said, “to never stop wishing. Your parents have their wishes for you, and I have mine, but what matters most is what you wish for yourself.”

  I smiled at her across the table. I felt like I had the old Aunt Lydia back, the one who used to play games with me and tell me silly stories and who never once laughed at any of my ideas or told me it wasn’t something I should do.

  The kitchen door burst open and Mama Rita returned, with Papa Gino following behind. He carried a big plate piled high with pancakes. Candles perched crookedly in the pancakes, their lights fluttering as Papa Gino and Mama Rita sang “Happy birthday” at the top of their lungs.

  #

  I closed the door to my room at Aunt Lydia’s house and checked my phone again. Natalie hadn’t texted me, but we hadn’t spoken since our argument. And there had still been nothing from Mom or Dad.

  Dad, I could understand. Maybe he was busy doing therapy or whatever it was he did in rehab. Whenever I tried to imagine life inside Keller-Burns Rehabilitation Center, I imagined strung out people rocking back and forth in corners or spasming from withdrawal. It was probably easy to lose track of time in a place like that.

  But Mom had no excuse. She was on vacation in Paris. She had her phone, she never went anywhere without it. She couldn’t take two seconds out of her busy day of spa trips and French food to remember the child she gave birth to?

  I wouldn’t let it bother me. Not today. My friends were throwing a birthday party for me later that day. I was already worried enough about having Jude and Carter together in the same room again. I didn’t need to stress myself out over my mother’s carelessness.

  I stopped, realizing I was pacing the room. I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget it until I talked to her.

  The phone rang as I waited for her to pick up. It was still mid-afternoon in Paris, so she should be awake.

  Finally, the ringing stopped. “Hello?” Mom’s voice trilled into the phone.

  I clenched my fist. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh, Hannah!” She giggled. “I was jus’ telling Jean and Pierre abouchoo. How you’re goin’ to Yale in a year. Yesss, that’s right!” she said to someone else. A distinctly male voice spoke in the background. “A lawyer. My daughter’ll be the best damn lawyer in the country!”

  “Who is that?” I asked. “Who’s with you?”

  “Tess,” Mom said. She giggled. “And Jean and Pierre.”

  “And who exactly are Jean and Pierre?”

  Mom laughed. “Friends, Hannah. We go way back.”

  How far back, exactly? I thought about the trips I’d taken with Mom to Paris, and the number of times we’d each ended up doing our own thing. Had she been spending that time meeting with French men?

  “Are you having an affair?” I shrieked. I remembered Aunt Lydia was just upstairs in the attic and tried to keep my voice down.

  “What do you think I am?” Mom asked. Her words slurred and tumbled into each other. “What kind of woman do you take me for?”

  “You’re drunk,” I said. “With strange men. Where are you, in your hotel room?”

  “We’re in my suite, yes,” Mom snapped. “Having croissants and wine.”

  “More wine!” I heard Tess shout in the background.

  “More wine!” Mom echoed, then exploded into her usual high-pitched, drunken laughter.

  A lump formed in my throat. “Great, Mom.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Have fun with your affair and your drinks and whatever the hell you’re doing over there.”

  “Don’t you speak to me in that language, Hannah,” Mom snapped. “I am on vacation and after what I’ve been through, I deserve the chance to relax and have some fun.”

  “What you’ve been through?” My voice was growing louder, but I couldn’t hold it back. “What about what I’ve been through? What about the fact that it’s my birthday and my own mother doesn’t care enough to call?”

  “I’ll call when you can speak to me with respect,” Mom said.

  I laughed. “Don’t hold your—”

  There was a beep and then the noise on the other end went s
ilent. I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it.

  I could tell myself that there was a bad connection. That the mountains interfered with calls and made them drop easily. I could tell myself that Mom’s connection was never reliable overseas.

  But what was the point? I knew the truth.

  My mom had hung up on me. Happy freaking birthday, Hannah.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “I’m not climbing to the top,” I said as Jude and I made our way up the trail of steps.

  “It’s your birthday,” Jude said.

  “Right, and I’d prefer not to fall to my death until at least tomorrow.”

  Other people passed us, some huffing and puffing with exhaustion, others bouncing up the stairs with big smiles. I focused on moving one foot at a time while my stomach gurgled with apprehension.

  As we made our way up the steps, I looked up at the bridge across the gap and gulped. “Um,” I said, “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “You can,” Jude said.

  “No, really. I can’t.”

  We reached the bottom of the bridge and I froze in place. Sweat beaded along my lip and down the back of my neck. My stomach churned and a sick feeling welled up inside me.

  Then Jude’s face was all I could see, right in front of me. His hands closed around mine.

  “Do you trust me?”

  He said it so simply, like it wasn’t a question full of implications and complications. Like the only thing that mattered at that moment was what I would say.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Then walk with me. One step at a time. Just look at me, nothing else.”

  I did as he said, keeping my gaze locked on his. I took a step forward, lifting my foot to the bridge.

  “Good,” Jude said. “We’ll go slowly. Keep your eyes on mine.”

  He spoke to me in that soothing voice as we made our way across. Whenever I tightened my grip on his hands, he would remind me to look at him and not think about anything else.

  “Good,” he said. “You’re doing great, Hannah.”

  He looked at me as if he would protect me from everything. As if he could keep me from falling just because he said I wouldn’t.