The Rules of You and Me

by Shana Norris

  “I should have brought flowers or something,” Jude said at last, laughing. He reached up with his free hand and swiped at his cheek, sniffling a little.

  White wildflowers grew under a nearby tree and I hurried over to grab a handful. Then I placed the makeshift bouquet at the foot of the marker.

  “There,” I said. “Now he’ll know we were here.”

  A smile spread across Jude’s face. “Thank you.”

  We didn’t talk much, but we stayed at Liam’s grave for a long time. The sun inched toward the mountains along the horizon, turning the sky orange-gold before we finally left.

  Back at Aunt Lydia’s house, I didn’t know how to let Jude go. What would happen once he drove away? Would I ever see him again? This summer was about me learning to let go and find myself, but it had to be about Jude too. He was too much a part of the summer for this to be nothing.

  But I didn’t want to make promises that we might not be able to keep. It wasn’t the right way to say good-bye.

  “I’ve never been anywhere else, you know,” Jude said as he looked out at the mountains rising in the distance behind the homes across the street. “I’ve spent my whole life here.”

  “There’s a lot to see out there,” I said. “It’s easy to get lost if you’re not careful.”

  He grinned. “I’m always careful.”

  I laughed. “Yes, I’ve noticed that.” I couldn’t look at him as I scuffed my foot along the ground. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

  He leaned toward me, pressing his forehead against mine. “Do you trust me?”

  I looked up into gray eyes I knew so well. “Yes.”

  A moment passed between us, but neither of us moved. Moving would make things complicated.

  “Are you afraid?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “But when something scares you the most, that’s when you should do it.”

  I smiled. “Rule number two.”

  His mouth stretched into a grin and I felt something stir inside me, something big and scary and complicated. I opened my mouth, but I was too afraid to voice the truth I had just realized. I didn’t want to say it now when we were saying good-bye. If I said it, I wanted it to be real, to be something we could both be sure of and not something that came out just because I didn’t want him to go.

  Jude straightened, his jaw twitching as he swallowed. “I should go. I need to pack.”

  I nodded.

  He moved first, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tight against him. I clung to him, wanting desperately to never let go. I wanted to feel the solidness of him forever.

  “Bye, Hannah,” he said as he pulled back.

  I couldn’t speak, so I just waved. I stood on the front porch, watching as he got into his truck, which was now painted cherry red—the same color as the streaks in my hair. He beeped the horn once as he drove off.

  I watched until he disappeared behind the dip in the road. And then I whispered the words to myself, the ones I had always been too afraid to say to anyone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Is that everything?” Aunt Lydia asked as I closed the trunk.

  I nodded. “That’s everything I brought with me.”

  The summer sun was already high in the sky overhead, still vibrant, but I could feel the change beginning in the air as August stretched toward September. Summer was ending, and I was headed back home to Willowbrook. It was hard to believe I’d been in Asheville for two full months.

  “Wait,” Aunt Lydia said. She held up her finger and then dashed back into the house.

  I looked at Ashton and Kate. “What’s that about?”

  Kate shrugged, but Ashton looked like she knew something. Before I could press her for details, she threw her arms around me.

  “I’ll miss you!” she exclaimed.

  Kate wrapped herself around me from the other side and we stood there in a big group hug until I laughed.

  “I can’t breathe!” I joked.

  My friends released me and stepped back. My friends. It made me smile to think that.

  “Text us every day,” Ashton said.

  “About everything,” Kate added.

  “I will,” I promised.

  Aunt Lydia returned, carrying a square canvas that she held pressed against her chest. “A good-bye present,” she said as she handed it toward me.

  I sucked in a deep breath as I looked at the painting. It was Asheville, but it was also Willowbrook. The two towns were combined into one picture in a way that made them seem like one city, but I could still see the defining qualities about each.

  “When did you paint this?” I asked.

  Aunt Lydia beamed. “These last few weeks,” she said. “When we came back from Paris, I didn’t feel stuck anymore. I just had to paint.”

  I hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I love it.”

  Aunt Lydia’s eyes looked glassy as she smiled at me. “Remember you can come back any time you want, and you can call me. Even in the middle of the night. I’ll always answer.”

  I laid the painting carefully on the passenger seat of my car. Five hours was a long drive and I didn’t want anything to happen to it.

  I hugged everyone one last time and then climbed in, shutting the door behind me. The ignition started with a soft rumble and I backed out of the driveway.

  Aunt Lydia, Ashton, and Kate stood on the lawn waving at me as I pulled away. I looked up in my rearview mirror to see them one last time, then focused on the road ahead.

  I was ready to go home.

  #

  The first stop I made in Willowbrook was to the house next door to mine. Mrs. Wolinski smiled wide at me when she opened the door, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening.

  “Hannah, so good to see you,” she said. “How was your summer?”

  “It was good,” I said, smiling back at the elderly woman. I liked Mrs. Wolinski. She lived alone in a big house. Her husband had died a few years ago and her kids all lived out of state. They tried every year to get her to move closer to them, but she insisted on staying in the house she and her husband had bought with the money they worked hard for.

  “I just came by to get Stewie,” I said. “I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.”

  Stewie was my pet bird, a white cockatiel. Mrs. Wolinski had a few birds of her own and so I always left Stewie with her when I was gone, since I knew he’d be in good hands.

  “Oh, he was no trouble at all, dear,” Mrs. Wolinski told me. She looked confused. “But he isn’t here.”

  I blinked at her. “What? Where is he?”

  “At your house,” she said. “Your mother came by and picked him up two days ago.”

  I stood frozen on her front step as her words sank in. “My mom?” I asked.

  Mrs. Wolinski nodded. “She came back from Paris, and she told me you were still visiting your aunt. A few of those reporters were still hanging around the neighborhood when your mom got back, but she told them off.” She laughed, but then sobered quickly, giving me a sympathetic smile. “I’m really sorry to hear about your father, Hannah. If you ever need anything, be sure and let me know.”

  I thanked her and then dashed across the lawn between our houses. I had parked in the driveway and hadn’t opened the garage, so I didn’t see Mom’s car. My hands trembled so much I almost couldn’t get my key in the front lock.

  “Mom?” I called as I stepped into the house. It was quiet and my voice echoed in the large foyer.

  I walked up the stairs to my room. There was Stewie in his cage. He cawed when he spotted me in the door and I walked over to rub the feathers on his head.

  “He’s happy to be home,” said a voice behind me.

  Mom stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She clasped her hands behind her back and bit her lip.

  We hadn’t spoken since I’d left Paris. All of my communication with her had been through Dad these last few weeks.

  “I thought you w
eren’t coming home for another week,” I said.

  Mom shrugged as she stepped into the room and sat on my bed. “I’ve seen everything there is to see in Paris. I was getting a little bored.”

  She had the same casual Marilyn Cohen tone, the one she used whenever she wanted to brush something aside. I turned back to Stewie.

  “Thanks for getting him for me,” I said.

  Mom was quiet, but she didn’t make any movement to leave. I stroked Stewie’s feathers for a few minutes, keeping my back to her.

  When I turned back around, I saw a tear slip down Mom’s cheek.

  “Hannah,” she said softly, “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to angry with me or disappointed in me. I’ve tried so hard to give you everything I never had.”

  “I just want a mom,” I told her. “That’s all I want.”

  Mom pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’ve been talking with your dad. He says the…the center has really helped.” It was the first time she hadn’t called it the resort. She was making progress. “I think…We think it would be a good idea if I started some sessions with one of the therapists there.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You’re going to rehab?” I asked.

  Mom cringed. “Not like your father is. I’m going to do an outpatient program. I still have too much to tend to and you to look after…” Her voice trailed off and then she bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I guess you need much looking after anymore, do you?”

  I sat down next to her and slipped my arm through hers. “Not so much, but a little.”

  Mom smiled as she ran a hand over my hair. The streaks had started to fade, but I was thinking about dyeing them again. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re almost grown up. Other times, it seems like you’ve been grown for a while. Just one more year and then you’ll be all on your own.”

  I looked at her, holding my shoulders back. “I meant what I said in Paris. I’m not applying to Yale.”

  Mom nodded. “I know. Your father and I talked about that.”

  “And you’re okay with it?” I asked.

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll get used to it.”

  I leaned against her shoulder and she rested her chin on my head. “I really am sorry for this summer,” she said.

  “You already apologized to me,” I said. “But I think you owe an apology to Aunt Lydia.”

  Mom stiffened. “For what?”

  “For the baby,” I told her. “Aunt Lydia told me everything.”

  Stewie let out a few tweets from his cage as he picked at the bars. Mom let out a long breath. “Did she tell you that I miscarried three times before you were born?” she asked.

  I sat up, staring wide-eyed at her. “You did?”

  “I didn’t want Lydia to have to go through what I did,” Mom said. “It’s still painful for me to think about. And when Lydia miscarried, I…I hated to see my sister crying like that. She didn’t have a partner to lean on, like I did. She was on her own and I couldn’t make it better. I didn’t want her to hurt.”

  “But you hurt her by what you said,” I insisted. “You owe her an apology.”

  Mom looked down at her lap. “I know. I’ll call her. I promise.”

  “Don’t be afraid to face reality,” I said, smiling. “That’s rule number four.”

  Mom smirked at me. “And whose rule is that?”

  “Mine,” I said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “What do you think about this?” Avery James held up a bright yellow posterboard for my inspection. She’d scrawled “STUDENT COUNCIL BAKE SALE: BUY GOODIES TO SUPPORT YOUR SCHOOL!” on it in big letters.

  “If it looks good to you, it looks good to me,” I said.

  Avery put the posterboard down and sighed. “I just don’t know if anyone will actually pay attention to it. I bought the brightest color posterboard I could find.” She made a face. “Being president is a lot more work than I thought it would be.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “I tried to warn you.”

  Avery shot me a quick scowl. “Don’t gloat just because you have the easy job this year. All you have to do is keep track of the money.”

  I waved the official senior class student council treasurer’s notebook at her. “And that’s a lot more work than you think, especially when all of you keep asking for money to buy posterboard.”

  “Who’s giving out money?” My ex-boyfriend, Zac Greeley, asked as he bounded into the room. He stopped long enough to greet Avery with a kiss before hopping onto a desk and swinging his legs back and forth.

  “No one,” I told him sternly.

  “I distinctly heard something about money,” Zac said. He tapped his ears. “I have excellent hearing when it comes to monetary concerns.”

  I laughed as the rest of the student council trickled into the room. The school year was already nearly a month in, and so far, senior year was the best year I’d had in a long time. I’d cut a lot of extracurriculars out of my schedule and eased up on my workload with others. I had decided not to continue my reign as class student council president and instead took the treasurer job. I was happy to let Avery take over for once.

  Strangely enough, Avery and I had started to become friends again. We were still competing against each other for valedictorian of our class, but it was a friendlier rivalry than it had been in the past. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I was named salutatorian anyway.

  Mom was not happy about my cutting back on school activities, but Dad was on my side. He’d come home from rehab a few weeks ago and he wasn’t working quite as much as he had been. We were both learning to slow down and enjoy life. Dad was still continuing his rehab, but on an outpatient basis.

  Mom had also started rehab for her alcohol problem. Sometimes we went to therapy sessions as a family, sometimes my parents went on their own.

  “So are you excited about this weekend?” Avery asked.

  The fluttering sensation in the bottom of my stomach grew stronger at her words. “Yes,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face. “I can’t wait.”

  “Your parents still riding down with you?” she asked. “Because my offer stands. Molly and I will go if you need extra support.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but no. Mom and Dad have completely cleared their schedules for the weekend and told everyone not to call them.” My parents and I were leaving early to head down to Georgia. The plan was to check out a few small colleges along the way before we reached our real destination. I had already submitted an early application to UNC-Asheville, but I was keeping my options open. “It’ll give us some badly needed family time anyway.”

  “Until you get there,” Avery said, winking at me. “Then I imagine you’ll be a bit too distracted.”

  Heat crept up my neck and I ducked my head over my notebook as I scribbled a bunch of squiggles.

  “Well, I’m glad,” Avery said. “I know it’ll all work out.” She turned to face the student council and cleared her throat. “All right, everyone, listen up! We’ve got a lot of work to do and not much time to do it.”

  I settled back in my seat, happy to let someone else run the show.

  #

  “Hi, Hannah.” Mark greeted me with his usual wide smile and firm handshake. “Come on back.”

  I followed him into his office. It hit me that I had spent so much time in that room over the last year, but I had never really taken a close look at anything in it. Now my gaze roamed over the framed diplomas and certificates on the walls, the painting of sailboats, the bookcases stuffed full of thick books. Pictures of Mark’s family sat on the corner of the desk, next to a perpetual motion machine that steadily swayed back and forth.

  My gaze fell on one picture in particular. It was Mark, all suited up in a green bodysuit, with straps around his shoulders attached to a colorful parachute dragging along the ground behind him. He smiled at the camera, his eyes wide and his face pale.

  “You went parachuting?” I asked.


  “Six years ago,” Mark said, smiling as he sat down in his usual plush blue chair across from me. “That’s the first time you’ve noticed that picture?”

  Had it always been there? “I guess I’ve never taken a good look around here,” I said. My gaze scanned the room again, looking for other things I may have missed.

  “That’s okay,” Mark said. “A lot of my clients don’t notice it for a long time. It’s come to be a sort of guide for me. When the client finally takes the time to look closely at the picture, I know they’ve moved outside of their own head and are ready to face life on their own.”

  My gaze snapped back to Mark as his words sank in. “I don’t think I’m ready—”

  Mark held up one hand to silence me. “Did you push yourself outside of your comfort zone this summer?”

  “Yes,” I said, smiling as I remembered my time in Asheville.

  “You’ve told your parents your plans for your future?”

  I nodded.

  “And you live by your own rules, not the ones someone else decides for you?”

  “I try.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask of you, Hannah,” Mark told me. “Be the person you want to be. Don’t box yourself into an idea of perfection. Take charge of your life.” He held out his hands and shrugged. “I don’t think there is anything more I can teach you.”

  I knew Mark was right, but the idea of making decisions on my own for the rest of my life without someone’s guidance still terrified me. “What if I mess up? What if soon I go right back to the same old Hannah?”

  “How did you feel when you stood on top of Chimney Rock?” Mark asked.

  I thought back to the night I’d finally made it to the top of the rock and stood there as the wind whipped around me. “Free,” I said. “I felt like I could do anything.”

  “Keep remembering that moment,” Mark said. “These rules you had yourself stuck in were your rock that needed to be climbed. You’ve done it. Remember how it felt to be free, and don’t let yourself fall down again.” He pointed at the picture on the desk. “Jumping out of that plane was my rock. I was a lot like you once, but I figured out how to set myself free.” He beamed at me. “I think we’re done here.”