by Russo, Jessa
Oh geez. This was a huge mistake. All eyes were on me. The crafting halted to a standstill.
I had the floor.
“Oh, um…well, you know how Cam and I went to that party Friday night?”
“Yeah, at your friend’s house, right?”
She didn’t need to know I’d actually been at a warehouse. I wasn’t a total liar.
“Yeah, well, it’s her brother.”
“Oh! That’s great! What grade is he in?”
“He’s not.” I cringed.
“He’s a dropout? Holland, you know better than—”
“No, no Mom, he’s not a dropout. He’s already graduated.”
“Oh! That’s no big deal. Where does he go to college?” she asked, as she went back to the table and helped the crafters get back on task.
“Well, he works right now. He’s taking some time off before he goes to school.” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “He’s…um…he’s not sure what he wants to do yet.”
I’m not sure what he wants to do yet. I added that to the list of things I didn’t really know about him…yet.
“Well, as long as he doesn’t take too much time off, Holl. So, do you like him?”
“That’s the problem.”
My mom stopped what she was doing and looked up at me, her face no longer lit up. “Oh honey. You have to move on.” She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Not everyone is going to hurt you like they did, Hollie. It’s okay to let another guy in, you know?”
“It’s only been four months, Mom. I don’t think I’m even close to ready. It wouldn’t be fair. To him or to me. I shouldn’t have even talked to him. This is stupid.”
“No, baby, listen to me. I know it’s only been four months, but I also know you. We wouldn’t be talking about this if it were stupid. How does he make you feel?”
She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me back to arm’s length to look at me. I got that heavy feeling in my chest, that thickness in my lungs, and wondered if she could see it inside me. I’d avoided being this close with her, afraid she’d see the difference in my eyes. As she analyzed me, I tried to think of a reason to run out of the room, but nothing came to me. I looked down in order to avoid her eyes, hoping she’d think the uncomfortable topic of conversation made me glance away.
“Honey? How does he make you feel?”
“Good. Important. Like I exist again.”
“There you go. You don’t have to commit to marrying this guy, baby, but you can give yourself a break. If it feels good to be around him, then let yourself enjoy that. It’s been too long. It’s been too dark for you, Holland. It’s okay to see some light at the end of the tunnel, some reason to feel something.”
I smiled, trying to show her I was listening. Trying to agree with her even a small fraction. Mick did make me feel good. He made me want to talk and open up. He looked at me.
And I felt like he actually saw me.
“Did you change your eye makeup recently?”
I pulled out of her grasp and grabbed my purse, starting for the door.
“I gotta go, Mom! I should probably get started on my studying. I have a ton of work this week. See you at home soon?”
My mom’s eyes widened for only a slight second before she collected herself and smiled at me. “Sure thing! I think it’s Cam’s night to make dinner, right?”
Oh. Great. Hamburger Helper again. Cam’s specialty. Actually, it was all Cam could cook.
“Great. See you then. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, Hollie.”
“See ya, Mr. Greenburg!” I said, as I turned into the lobby. He sat by the door, watching the world go by outside. Wishing he could join in, I imagined.
“Not if I see you first, Hollandaise!”
As I passed him, he grabbed my wrist, and I turned to face him. His grip was tight and slightly painful at first, but when his eyes met mine, he eased up. Leaning forward, his expression suddenly somber, Mr. Greenburg nodded his head toward me, as if he wanted me to duck down for a secret. So I did.
“Tell me about this boy, Hollandaise. What’s his name?”
“Mick,” I answered.
“Mick, what?”
“Stevenson. Mick Stevenson.”
“And his age…how old is he?”
I tilted my head, wondering why Mr. Greenburg cared what Mick’s last name was. Then I chastised myself for being suspicious of a harmless old man I’d known and loved for all of my life. “He’s twenty-two.”
“Do you think this boy—Mick—will be the one, Hollandaise?”
“The one?”
“Yes, you know, the one the story foretold.” He looked around as if checking to see that the coast was clear. “Don’t want Grace to hear this, though I don’t know how your Mama can’t see it for herself…but you know, the one to break the spell.”
Briefly startled, I opened my mouth to question him, then realized he referred to the many stories he’d read to me as a child. He’d had a collection of original hardcover fairytales to rival any library’s. My shoulders dropped as I sighed, and my smile fell. I realized this was just a moment of dementia—confusing fairytales with reality. The coherent vibrancy I knew and loved in Mr. Greenburg was slowly slipping away before my eyes. I’d seen it plenty of times before, having grown up coming to see my mom here, but something about seeing Mr. Greenburg losing his sanity made me feel sadder than when any of the others had slipped into dementia.
“Yeah, Mr. Greenburg, maybe this will be the one.”
“Good girl, Hollie. Give the boy a chance. Maybe the darkness will leave your eyes.”
“What?” I snapped.
I dropped his hand as if it had shocked me. When in truth, his words were responsible for rocking me to my core.
My eyes. He could see it.
“Mr. Greenburg, I…I don’t…”
“Shhh, Hollandaise. I’ve known for a long time. I’ve seen it coming. But there’s still hope. Now, go be a good girl and get your schoolwork done before the old witch finds you and locks you away in a tower. Come visit me again soon, okay, dear?”
I nodded, then turned and headed to my car, unable to form words in my suddenly dry mouth. He’d been lucid when he mentioned my eyes, I could have sworn he had. But then he so quickly flipped the switch and began speaking of witches and fairytales again.
I climbed into Penny, dazed from the interaction with Mr. Greenburg.
The darkness in my eyes. He saw it.
If it feels good to be around him, then let yourself enjoy that.
My mom’s words floated through my mind, mixing with the haunting words I’d just heard from Mr. Greenburg. Do you think this boy will be the one? What did Mr. Greenburg even mean by that? Would it be possible for someone to fix what was coming? Could Mick somehow stop this change from happening to me?
Huh.
No. Oh my gosh, that is so stupid. Don’t listen to the ramblings of a crazy old man! Just last summer, one of the people in the senior care home had told me Michael Jackson was still alive and living in the room next to hers. Had I believed that nonsense? No. And I wouldn’t believe this nonsense either. Especially when followed up with a witch and tower reference, straight out of Rapunzel.
I was foolish to think anything could keep this from happening.
I was foolish to think I could see Mick again.
He wouldn’t want me if he knew the truth—that something foreign was moving around inside me.
Who would want to take on that kind of crazy?
Certainly not a nice guy like Mick.
I reached the house and noticed Rosemarie’s car parked out front. I held back a groan. I wasn’t really mad at them, but I still didn’t feel like being social. I slipped inside as quietly as I could, closing the door softly behind me, then stopped at the foot of the stairs. Cam’s voice carried from the kitchen, so I bolted up the stairs to my room.
Safely inside, I closed my bedroom door and sigh
ed.
From my desk, my laptop sat open, the screen staring blankly at me, and I wondered…
Powering it up, I sat down in front of it and waited. After a few long seconds, I opened Google Chrome and stared at the search bar.
What the hell was I going to search for?
I typed: graying eyes.
I watched as random links appeared on my screen, all of them health related. The majority of the links would have me believe that my eyes were aging, though at nearly-eighteen, that didn’t seem right. Aging eyes didn’t explain the strange feelings inside me either, but I figured I’d set up an eye appointment to rule out arcus senilis anyway.
After that search did nothing but make me feel like I was losing my sight or dying, I typed: foreign feeling inside. I knew that was a mistake—even as I typed the words—but I clicked enter anyway. Ironically, more eye-related stuff came up in the search results.
Now I had some ailing eye health for old people and a corneal foreign body. I sighed. Google was getting me nowhere, and frankly, thank God I wasn’t a hypochondriac.
I turned off the computer and decided I’d try again tomorrow. Right after I called the family eye doctor…just in case.
Holland
I awoke in the dark hours of morning, long before sunrise, fully dressed, though not wearing what I’d worn yesterday. I scooted to sit on the edge of the bed, then reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on, illuminating the room with a soft amber glow. I quickly scanned my surroundings, hoping for a trigger of recollection, a spark that would bring forth the memory of getting dressed in the night.
My car keys weren’t in their usual spot on the key holder in the kitchen, the eyesore I’d created in Girl Scouts during the fourth grade. Instead, they sat atop my nightstand.
I swallowed the thickness in my throat, confusion clouding my mind and fear gripping my chest. I looked at the calendar hanging above my dresser, though I still couldn’t be sure of the date, so I powered up my computer. Yesterday was Monday. I knew that much. Today should be Tuesday, but why was I in clothes I had no recollection of putting on?
Had I missed a day? Had I sleepwalked?
The thought troubled me. I’d only ever woken up fully clothed once before. And that night had resulted in accusations and rumors that haunted me still.
A chunk of time I didn’t remember.
I kicked off my shoes, then stripped out of my jeans and sweatshirt, noticing that I still wore my pajama tank-top beneath my clothes, though the flannel pants rested in a pile on the floor at the foot of my bed. I chewed on my bottom lip as I stepped into them, then sat down at the computer and checked the date.
It was, in fact, Tuesday morning. Just as I’d expected. But that didn’t explain why I’d gone to sleep in pajamas last night, but awoke in street clothes today.
Tennis shoes and all.
“Oh my God. Is she wearing your letterman’s jacket?” Sana’s disgust dripped from each word. Flanked by two of my former friends, Witni and Aja, Sana stopped a few feet from us, a bright pink-tipped finger pointed accusingly at Rosemarie.
Never mind that Cam and Rosemarie were now the cutest—albeit, oddly-matched—couple at school; Sana Michaels wouldn’t tolerate their relationship a second longer.
Sana’s little attack proved that Wednesday afternoon was as far as I’d get to go without any dramatic incidents. I’d pushed the odd Tuesday morning episode from my mind, chalking it up to sleepwalking or the odd behavior of someone half asleep. I’d felt better about the strange conversation with Mr. Greenburg, and I’d managed to avoid any more surprise phone calls from Mick. Rosemarie wasn’t pressuring me to date her brother, so I considered the subject dropped. And aside from the occasional dream about Mick stretched out on my bed, his snug shirt pulled up just enough to expose the inch of hard stomach above his pants, I was doing just fine not thinking about him.
Yup.
“There is no way you can actually be seeing her, Cameron Briggs.”
Sana’s grating voice pulled me out of my musings.
“I mean, are you serious? That girl?” Sana spoke as if Rosemarie wasn’t standing right there. As if Cam’s arm wasn’t currently draped over that girl’s shoulders, right in front of Sana’s scowling face.
“Well, Sana,” Cam began. “I am seeing Rosemarie. As I’m sure you can tell.” He pulled Rosemarie closer to him and winked at her, then turned a hard stare back at Sana. “Now, I can understand why you’d be bitter, and you don’t have to be okay with it—”
“Bitter? O-kay with it? It’s a disgrace, Cam! You are a disgrace! How can you go from dating me, to dating someone like her? It’s…it’s just not normal. What are you thinking?”
Witni whispered something into Sana’s ear, and a smile crept over her face in response.
“Oh my God, Wit, you’re right.” She turned back to Cam. “Are you trying to get back at me or something?”
Cam laughed, then glanced to where I stood behind him at the driver’s side of the car. I recognized that glint in his eyes—half amusement and half annoyance—and I wondered if he was about to flip Sana. Now that would be something I’d like to see.
“Yes, Sana, I’m trying to get back at you. I’ve been so heartbroken since our break-up, and I figured the best way to move on with my life would be to date someone who wasn’t such a frigid, Ice Queen bitch. So, how am I doing? Is it working? Are you sufficiently gotten back at?”
Sana’s mouth fell open before she promptly slammed it shut.
“Frigid bitch? Ice queen? How dare you, Cameron Briggs? You have some nerve. You’re lucky I dated you in the first place. I shouldn’t have even given you the time of day.”
“Yeah. That’s how I remember it, too, Sana. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Sana shook her head, inhaling deeply and looking about ready to explode. Her eyes widened, and her jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in her cheek. Her two friends stood behind her with matching expressions on their faces.
I snorted, causing Sana and her drones to turn their attention to me.
“What? You have something to say to me, you little fire-starting psycho?”
Rosemarie stepped forward before I could retort, pushing Sana back so hard she almost fell on her ass.
“Oh my God!” Sana whined as she caught herself on the rearview mirror of a nearby car.
“I think that’s just about enough out of you,” Rosemarie said with a smile. “Now, run along before I show you what kind of psycho I can be.”
In a flash, Sana was in Rosemarie’s face, close enough to kiss her.
“You will regret touching me, freak.”
“Yeah. I bet. Run along now. You too, sheep. Baaaa.”
I looked over at Cam, who beamed like a little kid who’d just been given his first Red Rider BB gun, and I couldn’t help but smile along with him. These girls needed to get knocked down a couple rungs of the bitch ladder, and it seemed like our new friend, Rosemarie, would be the one to do it. God knows I hadn’t been able to, and up until just a few months ago, I’d been one of them.
Ugh. I shuddered at the thought. As lonely as life had been since the whole Rod and Leslie fall out, and as much as I hated being shunned, I’d really been shocked at the way all of my former friends behaved.
I’d been embarrassed.
“And you,” Sana brought her icy gaze back to me one more time before leaving. She pointed a pink-nailed finger at me, and her face scowled in anger. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I know you made Leslie sick.”
I couldn’t help the snort that escaped my mouth. I would have hoped she was kidding, if for even a second I thought Sana was capable of such humor.
“Sana,” Cam said, the edge to his voice a good indication he’d had enough. “Are you hearing yourself? You should probably just walk away now before you say something else that indicates your incredibly lacking intelligence.”
“Whatever, Cam. Like I care what you think anymore, anyway. Look at
the losers you hang out with now. I came over here to try to help you, but it’s obvious you’re too far gone. But don’t think we don’t know why Leslie has been out sick since yesterday. Everyone knows. Your head case sister, here, has guilt written all over her face.” Sana spun her extended pointer finger, circling my face, emphasizing her words.
“Leave, Sana. Now,” Cam growled.
“Whatevs.” With a flip of her cropped black hair, Sana Michaels, followed by her two BFFs, turned on her heels and headed to her shiny silver Audi on the other side of the senior lot.
“Oh my God,” I said, my mouth hanging open in shock. “You guys. Do you really think…do they really think…there’s no way, right? They can’t possibly think I made someone sick. This is…”
“This is effing ridiculous is what it is, Holl. Let’s go home before all the stupidity in the air seeps into our brains. I’ll drive us home, okay?”
I nodded.
Cam opened his side of the car and waited for me to walk around Penny. I climbed into the back seat in a daze. Rosemarie hopped into the front, then Cam slid into the driver’s side.
People couldn’t really think I made Leslie sick, could they?
“I just . . .” I stammered, as I buckled my seatbelt. “I have no words.”
“That’s because there aren’t any words, Holl. Forget about it. You know these people are moronic. Forget about what Sana said.” He shook his head in disgust. “How did you ever let me date her, Holl?”
“She was one of my friends then, Cam. It didn’t seem strange at the time.”
After dropping Rosemarie off in the lower parking lot, Cam drove us home in silence. He was probably trying to figure out how he’d dated Sana for so long. I was trying to figure out how anyone could possibly think I made Leslie sick.
And wondering if I had.
Mick
Three days had passed since I’d talked to Holland. My surprise phone call on Sunday took her aback, but she hadn’t tried to hang up until dinner time, and even then, I felt she’d been reluctant to go. The funny thing was, I couldn’t even remember what we talked about, just that I listened to her voice all Sunday afternoon.
