by Shana Norris
“So how are you really?” Zac asked. “I saw the paper. I’m so sorry, Hannah. I never even knew your dad had a problem.”
“No one did. No one was supposed to know.” I sighed. “But it’ll be okay. Eventually.”
“It will,” Zac assured me. “You’re strong, Hannah. You’ll get through this and people will move on to new gossip in a few days. They always do. That’s the thing about gossip—one day, you’re the center of attention and the next, they’ve forgotten your name.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Zac. I needed to hear that.”
“No problem. And I meant what I said, about us being friends.”
“I’d like that,” I said honestly. “Tell Avery I’m fine and I know she didn’t tell anyone. It was bound to come out eventually. My time just ran out.”
I said good-bye to Zac and then pushed myself out of bed. I walked over to the mirror and looked at my reflection.
I was Hannah Cohen. I wasn’t perfect, but I was strong. I could handle this. I could handle anything.
That was one of the best lessons my parents had taught me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The only person who didn’t call or text, besides my mom, was Jude.
He was bent over the open hood of his truck when I stopped my car in his driveway. A blue T-shirt with “Normal is Boring” written across the front hung from the tree limb on the other side of the yard, swaying back and forth in the breeze.
“Hey,” I said as I approached.
Jude didn’t look up. He continued twisting at something on the engine with a greasy wrench, his forehead curled into a scowl.
“So,” I said, hugging my arms around myself. “Hope you’re having a better day than I am.”
Jude grunted, but still didn’t look away from the engine.
“Because I’m having the worst day in the history of the world,” I said. “Or at least, the worst day of my life.”
Jude straightened up and wiped his hands on the greasy rag hanging from his pocket. He walked over to the driver’s side and reached in, turning the ignition. The truck rumbled, but didn’t start.
“Anything I can help with?” I asked. “I don’t know much about trucks, but I can hold the tools.” I laughed, but Jude’s expression didn’t change as he passed by me.
I frowned and stepped next to the truck, leaning against the side as he bent over the engine again. “Hey. Is anything wrong?”
“My truck won’t start,” he grunted.
“Yeah, I got that,” I said. “You okay?”
“Fine.” His scowl deepened as he worked at the engine again. “I need to get the truck to start so I can go out and find a job.”
“You’re getting a job?” I asked.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he growled. “Some of us actually have to work for a living.”
I stepped back, my mouth dropping open a bit. “Jude? Did something happen?”
Now he looked at me. His eyes were dark and narrowed, his nostrils flared.
“Why didn’t you tell me who your dad was?” he asked.
I gripped the side of the truck to hold myself steady. “You know who my dad is. You met him.”
“But you left out the little detail about your father being the president and CEO of Willowbrook Bank and Trust,” Jude snapped. “The bank that owns the mortgage on my house.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t want anyone to know who my dad is. It doesn’t matter.”
Jude pointed at me with the wrench. “Do you realize that your father is threatening to foreclose on my house? I’ll have no place to live because my brother died, I lost my job, and my mom is too drunk to keep a job longer than three hours! And that doesn’t matter?”
He spun around, hurling the wrench at the side of the house. It hit the brick and then clattered to the driveway, bouncing off the pavement into the grass.
I couldn’t move. “I—I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t know—”
“Of course you didn’t,” he growled. “Because it doesn’t matter. That’s what your rules are all about, aren’t they? They keep you safe and secure so that you don’t have to deal with the real world that the rest of us live in. Tell me, Hannah, why should I bother getting a job just so I can keep a roof over my mom’s head when your father is blowing it all on those pills to get himself high? Why don’t I just save him the trouble and pay him in pills directly?”
Jude’s words felt like a slap. This wasn’t the guy I knew. This was someone else. This was the guy everyone had warned me to stay away from.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked him as tears stung my eyes. “Pay your mortgage for you?” I dug into my purse. “I’ll give you the money if that’ll make you happy.”
I could tell right away that I’d said the wrong thing. Jude slammed the hood shut, leaning over it and glaring at me.
“You can’t fix this,” he seethed. “You can’t just whip out your checkbook and make everything better. When are you going to figure that out?”
I held my hands out to him, palms up. “What then? I said I was sorry. My dad has problems, I know. Why do you think I came here? I told you I was messed up. I told you my family wasn’t perfect.”
“Grow up, Hannah,” Jude said. “Rule number one: Be honest. You never were. Now I know why you didn’t want anything to happen between us. You think you’re too good for me. You’re above me because your dad owns some big bank and I’m just some guy without a job or a fancy education. What your mom thinks isn’t the problem. It’s what you think.”
Tears blurred my vision, but I wouldn’t let them fall.
“You blame all of your problems on your parents,” he went on, “but the truth is you don’t want to own up to anything. You lie to everyone, even yourself. Stop pretending to be the victim and take responsibility for your own mistakes.”
I wanted to hurt him the way he was hurting me. My parents’ rules of self-preservation had taught me to always have the upper hand. I was going to have the last word.
I crossed my arms. “You’re telling me about owning up? Look at you, Jude.” I pointed to the tree where the shirt still fluttered. “You’re too afraid to move on from your brother’s death! You won’t take his shirt down, you won’t even paint your truck. He’s not coming home. It’s time for you to stop pretending and own your life.”
All color drained from Jude’s face. We stood there, staring at each other across the hood of the truck. We were only a few feet apart, but it felt like we were on opposite sides of the world. Something had opened between us, something too big and too deep to cross.
At last, Jude broke eye contact. He turned and stomped across the yard, disappearing into the house.
#
The door slammed with a satisfying crack behind me as I entered Aunt Lydia’s house. I threw my purse at the table, where it slid across the polished wood and knocked over a couple of framed pictures of me as a child.
In the kitchen, I opened cabinets at random and then slammed them shut. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, I just needed something to do with all of the frustration that was bubbling inside me, threatening to boil over at any moment. Energy raced through my limbs and I couldn’t stay still. I buzzed with electricity that needed a release.
“What’s all the noise down here?”
I spun around to face Aunt Lydia, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen. She wore her painting clothes and had a smudge of red paint across her cheek. She still held her paintbrush in one hand.
“I thought maybe I was being robbed by some very noisy burglars,” Aunt Lydia said with a laugh.
I didn’t laugh. I leaned against the counter, tapping my fingers on the countertop. My teeth clenched so hard that my jaw ached.
“You okay?” Aunt Lydia took a step toward me, the line of concern crinkling between her eyebrows.
“Fine,” I snapped. “Just fine. So what if my entire life is falling apart in a single day, and my mom doesn’t even care enough to come
home, and everyone blames me for what my parents do? Everything is fine.”
Aunt Lydia’s mouth fell open and she blinked at me. Then she recovered, snapped her jaw shut, and stepped toward me again. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
I snorted. “Talk? Now you want to talk to me and act like you actually care? You walked out of my life, Aunt Lydia. You ran away and rarely called, never came to visit. I had to come to you. When I needed you, you weren’t there.”
Aunt Lydia’s face paled as she looked at me. She gripped the back of a chair.
“Hannah,” she said in a soft voice, “I never meant to hurt you or leave you—”
“But you did!” I shouted, blinking furiously to keep back the tears that stung my eyes. “You’re just like everyone else! Every single person I have ever known has always let me down. They don’t stick around to make things work. They don’t even try. Everyone is only concerned about themselves, and you’re just like them.”
Aunt Lydia shook her head. “No, Hannah—”
I backed away when she took a step toward me, holding up my hands as a barrier between us. “Don’t make excuses now. I should have learned my lesson long ago. Maybe my mom had it right after all. Pretend reality is what you want it to be, because the real world sucks.”
I grabbed my purse from the table in the living room and then walked out the door, letting it slam shut behind me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
By the time I reached the first of the exit signs for Raleigh, my cheeks had dried and I felt empty.
My little car sped down I-40 along with the rest of the traffic. While everyone else weaved in and out of lanes around me, I stayed where I was in one of the middle lanes. I tried to focus on driving, but I felt numb. I had nothing left in me.
I hadn’t even bothered to pack my things when I’d left Aunt Lydia’s. I’d just gotten into my car and drove. Another two hours and I’d be home, back in Willowbrook. I wasn’t nervous or happy to be going home. I was nothing.
Mark was wrong. I couldn’t be the Hannah I wanted to be, because I didn’t even know who that was. I thought I did for a while. The Hannah I wanted to be was the one who had friends like Ashton and Kate. Who dyed red streaks in her hair. Who climbed to the top of Chimney Rock with Jude and screamed her lungs out.
But the actual Hannah I had tried to run away from had always still been there. She was the one who didn’t tell the truth. The one who knew that not following the rules always led to bad things happening. It had happened with Avery back in seventh grade. It had happened with Aunt Lydia when she moved away. It had happened with Zac when I let him get too close. It would keep happening as long as I thought I could live without the rules.
Mom was always right. Reality was too difficult to deal with.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. No, I wouldn’t be like her. I didn’t want to check out of my life because it was too hard. I didn’t want to miss all those little moments I’d had this summer that had made it good.
But I didn’t know what I was supposed to do or where I was supposed to go from here.
The green sign hanging over the interstate grew larger as I sped toward it. RDU Intl Airport Exit 2 Miles.
Rule #4: Don’t be afraid to face reality.
I bit my lip, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. Then I took a deep breath and veered my car into the exit lane.
#
I pounded on the door again, but I knew it was useless. The room inside was quiet. The whole hall was still, as if everyone staying on that floor were out at the same time. Which was likely. It was almost nine o’clock at night, and most people were probably still out to dinner or else enjoying the nightlife in Paris. Through the window at the end of the hall, I could see the glittering lights of the city spread out in the darkness below.
I rode the elevator back down to the lobby. A man in a nice black suit stood at the concierge desk, but I didn’t bother talking to him. I had to do this myself and I wouldn’t leave until I had.
I found a plush chair situated so that I could easily keep an eye on the front doors. My eyelids felt heavy and my legs ached from the long flight. Flying always made me sleepy and stiff, but I couldn’t afford to think about that right now.
It was after eleven when she finally came staggering through the front door. She leaned against Tess, both of them giggling like little kids. She didn’t even see me as they passed. She threw her arms wide as she talked too loud, her voice echoing around the room.
“Mom.”
I had to say it twice before she heard me. She froze in her steps, turning around to face me. She swayed a moment, leaning back against Tess, who also stared at me as if I were a hallucination.
“Hannah?” Mom asked. Then she recovered her poise and threw her arms open as she stumbled toward me, wrapping me in a tight hug. She hated to be surprised, so of course she would play this off as if she were waiting for me to show up. “You’re here! How wonderful! I’ve missed you so much.”
I pulled myself out of her grasp and scowled. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“What did you do to your hair?” Mom reached for one of the red streaks, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, Hannah. Really? Red is for—”
“You’re drunk,” I said, pushing her hand away. Her breath reeked of the smell of different cocktails. There was no telling what she’d had or how many.
“Just a few drinks with dinner,” Mom said, waving her hand. She put her arm around my shoulder and grinned at Tess. “Isn’t this fun? Now it’s a real girls’ vacation.”
“You need to come home, Mom.”
Mom’s smile faltered, but she didn’t pull away from me. She cleared her throat and then smiled at Tess. “Go on upstairs,” she said. “We’ll be along soon. I want to show Hannah the hotel.”
Tess pushed her blonde curls out of her face and smiled at us. “Of course. Have fun, you two.”
I watched Tess wobble on her heels as she made her way to the elevators. Once the golden doors had closed behind her, Mom steered me over to a far corner of the lobby.
“You have a lot of nerve, talking to me like that in front of my friend,” Mom hissed. She collapsed into a chair, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to bring you home,” I said, crossing my arms.
“I can’t go home right now,” Mom said. “Do you realize how many reporters will be camped outside our house? And what will everyone say? They’ll look at us with contempt, Hannah. They think your father spent their money on those damned pills.” She shook her head. “I’m staying here until this dies down.”
“Dad needs you,” I said. “He needs both of us.”
Sadness passed across Mom’s face and her eyes became glassy. She blinked quickly, taking a deep breath to compose herself.
“Hannah, I’m on vacation. I’m not leaving early just because you say so.”
“This isn’t a game, Mom!” I shouted. “This is real life! You can’t hide here and pretend everything is fine, when you know it isn’t.”
Mom’s gaze darted around the room and she grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to her chair. “Stop making a scene. You’re acting like a spoiled child.”
I laughed, a short staccato laugh that bounced off the high ceiling above us. “I’m the child? You’re the one living in an imaginary world. If you don’t like something, you just pretend it doesn’t exist. You drink until you forget. Who cares what the rest of us are dealing with? As long as you can check out any time you want, everything is fine, right?”
Mom pushed herself to her feet, swaying as she looked at me. “I’m going to bed, Hannah. We’ll discuss this later when you can behave like the lady I raised you to be.”
I followed as she stalked across the room toward the elevators. “And what kind of lady is that, Mom? One who pretends she doesn’t have a drinking problem? One who runs around Paris with men who aren’t her husband?”
Mom whirled around, gl
aring as she pointed a finger at me. “You watch what you say. I’m still your mother.”
“Do you even care about Dad at all?” I asked. “Or do you only care when things are perfect? That’s the only way you know how to love anyone, isn’t it? If they don’t behave the way you want them to, you turn your back on them and pretend things are great.”
Mom’s lip trembled. “I love your father. I have always loved him. Don’t tell me about love, Hannah. You don’t know the sacrifices I’ve made for your father so he can have the things he wanted in life. Do you know how exhausting it is being Daniel Cohen’s wife, making sure everything about our lives is perfect so he looks good among his colleagues? You want to know why I pretend? It’s all for him.”
I clenched my fists. I wouldn’t feel sorry for my mom. She had a part in this whole mess. “I’m done pretending. I’m done living by your rules. I’m not going to Yale. I’m not even applying there. I won’t be the person you think I should be.”
Mom’s nostrils flared and her face turned red. “We’ll talk about this in the fall.”
I nodded. “We will. We’ll talk about a lot of things that will be changing.” I took a step back, widening the distance between us. “Have fun on your vacation, Mom.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
My teeth chattered, though I wasn’t cold. It was a warm July night in Paris and the city sparkled around me. People passed with barely a glance my way. Happy couples on romantic walks. Families exploring the city while consulting maps. The last time I was here, I had let myself get lost in the magic of the city and forget everything else.
But the magic wasn’t there this time. It was just a city somewhere in the world. Nothing special.
Exhaustion took over. I was emotionally and physically drained and felt completely hollow. I sat on a park bench and pulled my cell phone from my pocket.
