“Where’d they go?” one of the boys shouted.
“They’re kissing,” the other said, disappointed.
“Ew!” said the first.
Gabe pulled back and kneeled. Corpse sat up, cheeks flushed, and glanced at the boys. Gabe rose and looked toward the river. He held out his hand and pulled Corpse to her feet. She wiped snow off her jeans.
“This way,” he said and started walking toward a bench on the riverbank that sat beneath a giant spruce’s skirt of sheltering branches.
Beyond the good, determined thing I’d felt was something else, and it spread through me like a drop of food coloring into a pool, so calming and comforting. I realized it was love.
They post-holed to their knees with each step, but it wasn’t far. Corpse was glad her jeans were tucked into her snow boots. Gabe had on just the sneakers we’d given him. Did he even own snow boots? Corpse glanced back. The boys were gone, but their parents’ shoulders and heads moved along the bank.
The river grew louder. Gabe and Corpse stepped out of the snow onto pine needles that cracked beneath their feet. The smell of sap and cold enveloped them. Corpse breathed deep, her nostrils freezing together for a second, and she scanned the landscape through the spruce’s bows. She thought how Ash would never see beauty like this again. I was basking in love.
“Poor Ash,” Corpse said.
“Enough sadness,” Gabe said. “Tell me something … ” I could tell “happy” didn’t seem like the right word. “Not sad,” he said. My effect, trapped in the pucker around his eyes, just about killed me.
“Remember that crown I wore at the winter formal?” Corpse said. “When I woke up in the hospital, it was gone. It was Ash’s crown. Remember? What do you suppose happened to it? Do you think I could still have been wearing it when I got to the hospital?”
Gabe’s eyes dulled. “Something not sad.”
“Well, I’m on the pill now.”
“That’s very not sad.” He slid his arms around her.
Corpse laughed. “You should have seen Mom. She insisted on driving me to and from her gynecologist, and she couldn’t stop smiling. It creeped me out.”
Gabe cracked up.
“Mom’s a big fan of you,” Corpse said, and her face fell. “She’s so unhappy, Gabe. I don’t know how she’s stayed with Dad all these years.” She paused, hearing how she’d just blamed Dad. “She’s starving for love.”
“Yes,” he said. “The first time I met her, it showed.”
“Really?”
“Really. Guys aren’t that dumb,” he said.
“Some guys,” Corpse said. “I was that dumb.” She kissed his neck. His hair had outgrown its cut, and she liked how it curled at the ends.
“So we could do it? Right here? Right now?” Gabe said.
Corpse surveyed the trail, where the two boys had peered over the bank, and she pulled a face. “Sometime at night, maybe.”
“Deal,” he said and led her to the bench.
They sat, and he wrapped his arm around her. She leaned her head against his letter jacket. “Here’s another not sad thing: Mom’s a fan of your dad too.”
Gabe laughed softly. “Last night Dad said your mom was nothing like he expected. He said it all reverent.”
“Reverent,” Corpse said.
She craned around to look Gabe full in the face. Their eyes had a conversation:
Corpse: Do you think?
Gabe: No way.
I tried to remember myself ever saying something not sad. Anything.
The rippling water caressed the ice. With each touch, did the liquid become ice or the ice become liquid? The water’s sound seemed to be millions of gentle conversions. Corpse let her mind ride that sound, and her consciousness drifted downstream.
“There’s no rush.” They’d been quiet so long, Gabe’s voice seemed foreign.
“It’s too cold today for runoff,” Corpse said.
“I meant us. To do it.”
“Oh.”
“I want it to be right. Perfect.”
“I’ll never be perfect,” Corpse said, and her smirk, I knew, was for me.
“Okay. But you know what I mean.”
“I’m nervous, Gabe.”
“Me too. Maybe it’ll turn out all I’m good at is soccer.”
Corpse sat back. “Or me at science.” Nine months we’d been dating. Roberta’s men crowding around that pole with dollar bills lifted in their fists formed in her vision. “Gabe, how have you put up with me all this time?”
“Not sad.”
They watched the river again.
“There’s one more not sad thing,” Corpse said.
“What?”
A blue jay landed on the creek’s bank and hopped along the snow, leaving tiny Vs. It pecked at something Corpse couldn’t see. “Dad and I are going to Portugal for spring break.”
“Portugal?”
“It’s where he’s from. When he was ten, his parents died, and he was sent here to live with his uncle. Gabe, I think this is what’s killing my family. The key to what killed me.”
Gabe pursed his lips and stared ahead, seeming to calculate things far down a chain and then back up. “He agreed to this?”
“He didn’t say no.”
“So you’re making him return to the scene of the crime? Face his fears?”
She shrugged.
“How are you going to do that? Take him to where his parents died? Make him stand on the spot and relive the agony?”
“I don’t know.” She slouched. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Maybe this is a big mistake.”
Gabe pulled her closer. “I just don’t want you getting hurt any more than you already have been. My mom … for the longest time, I kept thinking she’d come back. Back here to Crystal Village. That her love for me would draw her home.”
“Gabe—”
“It’s fine now. Maybe your dad can change, but … ”
“But what?”
“That night of your … suicide. His face. It wasn’t right.”
“I was dead, Gabe.”
“I know, but … ” He rubbed his eyes and she could see words crowding to flow out of him. “Never mind. We were all whacked out.”
“What, Gabe? What did you see?”
“I’m not sure. He was … well … not normal. He started speaking a foreign language. Which is fine, except his face was all weird. He was … having an argument … with himself. He shouted. And his eyes. I don’t know, Oona. He lost it, I think.”
Corpse eyed the frozen river. She couldn’t picture Dad shouting, yet heard his fist rattle the silverware. Saw his strange nodding.
“Sometimes,” Gabe said, “I think it couldn’t have happened. But when I see him, it’s there, between us, and he seems embarrassed. No, not embarrassed. Confused.”
“Maybe this trip will be a disaster.”
Gabe opened his mouth to speak, but Corpse put her finger over it and kissed his dimple.
“He’s my dad. He loves me.”
“Your mom’s not going?”
“Something not sad,” she said.
Gabe pulled his arm from around her, took her hand in his warm grip, and slid both their hands into his pocket. The river’s muted rush took over the air.
“There’s great soccer in Portugal. You should go to a game.”
“Okay. Dad watches soccer all the time, you know.”
“The man’s a mystery.”
“That’s for sure.”
“I love you,” Gabe said.
I heard Ash’s accusations, but Corpse leaned her head on his shoulder. She glanced at me like Come along and said, “Blimey!”
“What?” Gabe said.
“I love you too.”
Gabe turned to her. �
��Really?”
“Really.” She spun and took his face in her hands. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“Wow!” His grin was priceless.
Twice, those words. Now, and to Dad. Not the end of the world. In fact, it was nice. Corpse seemed to hear me. She kissed Gabe. “That’s for all the times I didn’t say it before. And so you’ll know it across an ocean.”
The river’s murmur took over again. He touched her coat in the place where her heart necklace rested against her chest. He put his arm around her, she returned her head to his shoulder, and he rested his cheek against her hat.
“Gabe, I’ve never really asked you what you want to be. When you graduate, I mean.” She hated the gaps in her knowledge of him.
“A doctor maybe. Or a physical therapist, like with a professional soccer team. But professional soccer first, if I’m good enough.”
“I can’t even think about college till I fix my family.”
“Fix?” Gabe said. He pressed his lips, and I felt rotten for the piece of me I saw in his eyes. I’d always considered myself smarter, better than Corpse. Lately, I doubted that.
Twenty-Seven
From Oona’s journal:
A healthful daily intake of liquid for men is about
3 liters (13 cups) a day. For women, it’s 2.2 liters
(9 cups) a day.
—Mr. Bonstuber
Tanesha followed Corpse, but this time she was silent. This time she didn’t stop in the Student Union. Ahead, Clark stood beside the door to AP Bio. He raised his hand in a wave and went inside.
Tanesha tapped Corpse’s shoulder. Corpse turned and Tanesha’s fist passed through me and caught Corpse’s ear, sent her careening against the wall.
Tanesha’s eyes dulled. The hate in her fist scorched me.
She tilted her head, gave Corpse a glazed look, and her eyes turned vicious again. A crowd formed around them. DEAD GIRL SLUGGED. Brandy sneered at Corpse from Tanesha’s side.
“How many people are you going to fuck up?” Tanesha hissed.
Corpse stepped back. Tanesha cocked her arm, and Corpse lifted hers to block it, but the punch connected with her eye. Pain bloomed in her temple. Stars sprayed across her vision. She slid down a locker to the floor.
Tanesha pulled back her foot to kick. Brandy laughed, but Corpse wheeled out her leg, sweeping Tanesha’s standing leg from beneath her. Tanesha hit the floor, her breath billowing out her lips. They were eye-to-eye.
Corpse, palm against the locker, wobbled to her knees.
Sneakers appeared. We knew those sneakers. Loved those sneakers.
Gabe kneeled next to Tanesha and said, low, slow, “Listen, there never was and never will be anything between you and me. I will date who I want, you racist. If your life is screwed up, it’s your own fault.”
Tanesha’s mouth became a slash. One of her front teeth was chipped. Corpse wondered at its history. Faces in the crowd smirked at Tanesha. A couple snickers drifted down. Tanesha glared at Gabe, and her eyes lurched to Corpse. Gabe stepped between them, and Corpse studied his jeans’ creases at the backs of the knees.
“Don’t even look at her.” The flatness of his words scared Corpse more than Tanesha’s fist.
Tanesha drew her legs beneath her and rose, never taking her glare off Gabe. I had to admire her moxie. The tardy bell rang. Brandy took a backward step toward the Student Union.
“You shame us,” Tanesha said. Brandy nodded.
“Do I?” Gabe said. “Who’s shaming who?”
Something clicked behind Tanesha’s eyes. Mr. Bonstuber and Mr. Handler arrived. They took Tanesha by the arms and escorted her down the hall.
Mr. Rhoades, the assistant principal, hustled up. His hair was always pushed up in the front, and he looked like he’d just eaten something that didn’t agree with him.
“Oh, Oona!” He blew out his breath. “Come on. Let’s get to the nurse’s office for that eye.”
Gabe put his arm around Corpse’s waist. She saw Manny watching with narrowed eyes.
“I’m okay,” she said, stepping out of Gabe’s embrace, and we followed Mr. Rhoades.
In Corpse’s throbbing vision, the hallways and the stairs wavered. Mr. Rhoades opened the main office door and led us past Ms. Martinez, the secretary, and down a short hall. Dr. Bell’s door was shut, with Tanesha inside. The nurse’s office was across the hall, two doors down. The nurse only worked Tuesdays and Thursdays, so Mr. Rhoades sat Corpse on the cot, and Gabe leaned against the doorframe as Mr. Rhoades opened the mini-fridge, pulled out an ice pack, wrapped it in a thin towel from a stack on the fridge’s top, and handed it to Corpse. The room smelled like burlap sacks and rubbing alcohol.
A knock sounded. Gabe craned around. Mr. Rhoades leaned into the doorway, partially blocking our view of two police officers waiting outside Dr. Bell’s door. Their black gun belts lured Corpse’s eyes. Crystal Village’s police force was small, and I wondered if Ash had punched one of these officers. If these same officers had been at our suicide. The door opened, they entered, and the door closed behind them. Mr. Rhoades sighed and shook his head.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said and walked down the hall. He knocked and entered Dr. Bell’s office.
Tanesha was eighteen. Tanesha would be treated as an adult. We were all eighteen: Gabe, Tanesha, Roberta, us. Ash never made it.
“How did you know it was happening?” Corpse said.
“Manny,” Gabe said.
“Manny?”
“He saw Tanesha following you and got me.” Gabe studied his hands, still in fists. He sprayed out his fingers and blew out his breath. “He doesn’t hate you.” He closed his eyes and slumped against the wall like he’d walked a thousand miles.
Corpse led Mom by the hand into the living room, holding a blue ice pack against her eye. Even though she knew about Mom wanting to be an anthropologist, had knocked the peace pipe down from above the mantel, and had humped with Gabe here, the room still felt like a museum.
Mom sat on the couch, Corpse in the armchair. The last person she’d seen sit in that chair was Ash as she’d played LIFE. Reality seemed to sway, so Corpse closed her eyes. When she opened them, Mom was looking at her intently. She touched Corpse’s blackening eye and bit her lip.
“It’s fine,” Corpse said, taking Mom’s hand. “Mom, you’re not going to like this. You’re not going to like it at all, but we have to do it.”
“We?”
“Dad and me.”
“What?”
Corpse took a breath and said, too fast, “I’m making him go back to Portugal for spring break.”
Mom seemed to look through Corpse, and one of her eyes squinted.
“Mom?”
Her gaze veered to the window, toward Chateau Antunes’s front wall and our trail beyond.
“I think the reason Dad is such a … is so disconnected … is because he hasn’t gotten over his parents dying. I think he needs to face it somehow. Then maybe he can … well … love people.”
Mom was a statue.
“Mom?”
She kept staring out the window.
“Mom!” Corpse shook her arm.
Mom collapsed back against the couch and ran her fingers through her hair. “There’s that saying: If you love something, set it free … ”
“I love you too, Mom.”
She smiled, then lifted her chin. “What will you do once you get there?”
“I’m not sure. I just know I need to get him home.”
She pursed her lips till they turned a different color. “I tried to get your father to go, years back, just after you were born.” She laughed sadly. “He’d always been distant, but after you were born, he withdrew much more, grew defensive and mean-tempered. He was dead-set against kids, was furious when I told him I was p
regnant. I couldn’t understand it. At work, he’s suave, charming. For so long, I thought it was my fault. You wouldn’t think a beautiful baby would bring about a change like that. I guess he’s just a shrewd businessman. He must be.”
She threw up her hand and cast her eyes around the room. “Look at all this.” She laughed. Not the good kind of laugh. “It took me three years to figure out he’d married me for my money. The start he needed. I kept thinking there was something wrong with me. He’s masterful at that.”
Their eyes had a conversation:
Mom: I’ve been lonely so long.
Corpse: I understand. It’s almost over.
Mom: You think?
Corpse: I know.
Mom: I’m worried for you.
Corpse: I’ll be okay.
I remembered what Gabe had told me the day before. “He wouldn’t hurt me, would he?” Corpse said.
Mom sighed. “I don’t think so. But he’s masterful at damage inflicted with words. Sometimes I wish he’d just hit me.” Her eyes traveled to Corpse’s swelling one.
“Mom!” Corpse shuddered at the hate I remembered in Tanesha’s fist. Heard Dad’s fist bang that table.
Mom held up her palm like a traffic cop. “He’s too smart for bruises. It might damage his reputation, his career. It’s strange, the law. It protects you from bruises, but allows the murder of your spirit.”
“Murder? Mom!” That little girl voice. Only this time, I didn’t mind it.
“Work is his false front. He prefers the company of strangers and acquaintances. But if you try to get close to him, Oona—”
“I never knew things were so bad.”
“No?” Mom said. “You tried to kill yourself.”
I shuddered at the thought of Dad down in his office. Could he sense our words?
“Why have you stayed with him?”
Mom looked Corpse straight in the eye. “You.”
Corpse studied the ice pack in her hands, scraped a contrail with her thumbnail through its rime of ice. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
“No,” she said, “go if that’s what your instincts tell you. He’s agreed to it. That’s something. But I’ll be worried the whole time.”
The View From Who I Was Page 18
