Learning to Live

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  “You will?” Mom says, clearly in shock.

  Caroline shrugs. “Sure. I like to cook.”

  “You do?”

  “Mom,” I say, trying to pull her from her shock-induced trance. “I think it’s a great idea. Let her help. Once she’s done with my stuff, of course.”

  “Of course!” Mom looks pleased as punch as she starts flitting around the kitchen. “Why don’t you call Brandon, then, Jess. Tell him to come here for dinner.”

  Right. Brandon. Of course. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just pop upstairs then, so you can…focus.”

  I take the stairs two at a time, so I’m not sure if I’m out of breath from that or just from the sheer idea of calling Brandon and seeing him again tonight. Part of me wants to see him, of course. But another part of me wants to distance myself from him as much as I possibly can.

  He picks up after the first ring.

  “Go for Brandon!” he says.

  “I know that’s not how you answer you phone,” I say, trying to keep the laughter out of my voice.

  “Hey, you can take the boy out of Nerdville…”

  “Right. Well, Mr. Mayor,” I say, and then add, “of Nerdville, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “It looks like your sister is going to be helping my mom cook dinner tonight, so Mom told me to invite you to eat with us.”

  “Hang on.” He sounds distracted, and there’s a lot of shuffling all of a sudden, like he’s put the phone against his shirt. I ignore the faint feeling of jealousy I’m feeling for his phone. That’s just stupid. How could I be jealous of a phone? “Sorry about that…so, let me get this straight. My sister, Caroline, is helping with dinner?”

  “She said she likes to cook,” I clarify.

  “She does?”

  I can just imagine Brandon scratching his head right now.

  “Are you coming or not?” I press. “I need to know how many places to set.”

  “Um, yeah. Of course. I’m not gonna miss this.”

  Why is my heart hammering so hard against my chest? “Okay, great,” I say, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible. “See you in a bit.”

  “See you.”

  When I return to the kitchen, Caroline is still clicking away at the keyboard and Mom is washing vegetables in the sink. I feel kind of useless now. What am I supposed to do with myself? It occurs to me, not for the first time, that I might consider getting a job. I don’t want to get one. The idea alone makes my stomach turn. What would I do anyway? I didn’t finish my degree—not that a degree in American Studies is terribly useful in the real world—so I know I can’t get anything high paying. My skills are limited—all I feel really qualified to do is retail or maybe a hostess job at a restaurant. Both those ideas give me hives.

  “Everything okay, Jess?” Mom asks, and I realize I’m standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring mindlessly at the back door.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, coming into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. “How’s everything going?” I ask of Caroline. “Can you read his writing?”

  Caroline never stops typing, but she looks at me. “Yeah. It’s fine. You know…” She pauses. “These recipes sound really good.”

  This elicits a little smile from me. Maybe a little pride. Kyle was really talented, and he was mine.

  “I’m sure they do. Kyle was amazing.”

  “Yeah, but, I don’t think you understand,” she presses. “These are, like, really good.”

  “Well, maybe we should try them sometime,” Mom chimes in, and for some reason a little hint of panic sets in. The idea of eating the food he created has me freaked out. It’s so surreal. Like watching videos of people after they’ve passed.

  “That’s a great idea, Mrs. B!”

  I’ve never seen Caroline so excited. Like a real teenager. And not the moody ones—the pep squad kind.

  “Sure,” I finally say. I have to set aside my own weird hang-ups to help Caroline. That’s the adult thing to do, isn’t it? “Sounds great.”

  “We can start with this one, Mrs. B.” Caroline waves my mom over and points to the screen. “What do you think?”

  “Ooooh! That sounds amazing. It won’t be easy, but I’m game.”

  “Me too!”

  Who knew Caroline was so passionate about cooking? I’m floored.

  Caroline finishes up her pages for the day and then moves on to helping Mom make dinner. It’s a pasta primavera with fresh vegetables and garlic bread on the side. Nothing terribly fancy, but I can tell Caroline is having a blast as she chops the veggies and helps Mom put the dish together. While they’re doing that, I scroll through the recipes Caroline has typed up today. The one it’s queued to—the one she wants to try first—is some kind of apple bacon pork chops on a bed of sautéed spinach and mashed potatoes. I have to admit, it does sound amazing. Combined with the smell of garlic and baking bread in the kitchen, my mouth is watering for what feels like the first time in months.

  By the time Brandon arrives, I’m starving, and the sensation is distracting. Although, not distracting enough to make me tear my eyes away from Brandon. I still can’t believe he’s the same dorky guy that I used to pretend I didn’t know in high school. I mean, look at him. He’s fit, he’s got a head of thick, dark hair, a great smile, shimmering hazel eyes. I guess he just had to grow into himself. But it still kind of floors me. And now I can’t help but wonder what he thinks of me now compared to a few years ago.

  But does that really even matter? Part of me wants to think about moving on, but the guilt that rips through my chest says otherwise. I don’t ever want to move on.

  “Hey,” he says when he sees me standing awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen.

  Dad answered the door and then disappeared to his den again. And since Mom and Caroline are hard at work in the kitchen, I’m left to entertain Brandon until dinner.

  “Hey,” I reply. “Dinner’s not quite ready yet.”

  “Ok.” He shoves his hands in his pants pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. “So, what do we do in the meantime?”

  “Oh, Brandon, you’re here!” Mom has snuck up behind me and scared the bejeezus out of me. I step out of the doorway, toward Brandon, as I try to calm my jumping heart. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, but Caroline doesn’t want you to see the process. Jess, why don’t you take Brandon into the family room to watch TV?”

  I tuck my hair behind my ear and nod. “Mm-hm. Okay.” It’s not okay, though. I’m feeling really uncomfortable. After what happened when he brought me home last night, I’m not sure how to act. I know I was super obvious about how awkward I felt, not letting him walk me to the door and all. Oh, God. He’s staring at me. “Um. Follow me.”

  He follows me into the family room. It’s cozy in here. Dad lit a fire in the fireplace, even though it was almost sixty degrees today. I click on the TV and flip to TBS, where they’re showing reruns of Seinfeld.

  “You like Seinfeld?” I ask as I plop down on the couch.

  He sits on the other end, putting a safe amount of distance between us. It’s what I want. To keep my distance. So why do I feel so disappointed?

  “Who doesn’t?”

  We watch in silence as the show plays out before us, but to be honest, I don’t even know what episode we’re watching. I can’t focus. My mind is a whirl with guilt and longing; despair mixed with the flutters that come along with a crush. This isn’t good. I have to pull it together. I can’t slip back into my bed-ridden habits just because I’m scared. Just because I miss Kyle. Just because I don’t miss him as much as I did before.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  It’s not until Brandon says this, his hand reaching across the couch to take my hand, that I realize I’m crying.

  I snatch my hand back and swipe at my eyes. “Yeah, fine,” I say, trying to laugh it off. “I…it’s my contacts. I must have gotten dust in them or something.”

  I run off to the bathroom feeling stupid. Wha
t is wrong with me?

  I’m standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror, trying to catch my breath over the sobs, when there’s a light rapping on the door.

  “Jess?”

  Oh, God. He followed me. Damnit.

  “Jess, I want to come in.”

  “No,” I reply weakly. “I promise you don’t want to see me like this.”

  “Just open the door, okay?”

  I don’t have any fight in me, so I unlock the door. He opens it, and slips into the tiny half bathroom, locking the door behind him. There’s hardly any room in here for one, let alone two. We’re so close. His eyes are so tender, so full of concern. And then, before I know it, I’m in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.

  I haven’t been hugged in a long time. Not like this, anyway. Not held, the way Kyle used to hold me. It feels as if I’m being ripped in two and put back together at the same time. It’s everything that is frightening, yet everything that is wonderful. I’m lost; I’m found. I’m broken; I’m whole. I want to run, but I don’t want this to ever end.

  NINE

  It feels like an eternity before Brandon slides his hands up my arms and sets me gently back from him. I can feel him staring at me. I feel the light pressure from his hands on my arms. I hear the steady in-and-out of his breath. But I can’t look at him. I won’t. I don’t know how to face him.

  And then one hand leaves my arm and his fingers brush against my forehead as he pushes my hair away.

  “I’m not strong enough for this,” I finally say, my voice choked and barely above a whisper.

  “You don’t have to be.”

  At this, I look up at him, floored that he didn’t respond the way I thought he would. I expected him to say, “Of course you are,” or “Time heals all wounds.” Any number of things that wouldn’t have been the right things to say in this moment.

  I want to reply with “I don’t?” but that feels juvenile and stupid. Because I know I don’t. At least, now I know. Or maybe I always knew and now I just believe. Either way, it was exactly the right thing to say, and I wonder how he knew that. And I wonder what he did after his parents died to get through this Hell.

  I swallow hard over my raw throat and meet his tender hazel eyes. “Will…will you help me?” My voice is small, like a child, and he gives a little laugh in response.

  “Have I not been doing that all along?” he says.

  I think for a moment, recalling our interactions thus far. Realizing he’s been the only one able to bring me out of hiding. He’s also been the one to send me back into it, but that’s not his fault. That’s my fault for feeling something for him that scares the shit out of me.

  “Jess? Brandon?”

  Shit. Mom’s in the hallway calling for us. We can’t come out of the bathroom now—she’ll wonder why the Hell we’ve been in here together.

  Without a word, Brandon winks at me and then exits the bathroom, clicking off the light as he does, leaving me in darkness.

  “Hi, Mrs. B!” he says cheerily as he steps into the hallway. “Dinner ready?”

  “It is,” Mom replies. “Where’s Jess?”

  “She just ran upstairs for a minute. She’ll be right down, I’m sure.”

  Their voices fade, and I give it another few seconds to make sure they’re in the kitchen, so I can make my escape. I dart upstairs as quietly as I can and run to the mirror in my bathroom. Shit. My eyes are red and puffy. I look like a nightmare, but I think of Carly, and I giggle as I think, What would Carly do?

  I splash cold water on my face and pat it dry. A little eye cream, a little powder, mascara, blush, lip-gloss. I stare back at myself, surprised and pleased by my work. My eyes are still a little puffy but I’m hoping it’s not as obvious to everyone else as it is to me.

  “Jess!” Mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Are you coming? It’s getting cold!”

  I barrel out of my room and down the stairs. She’s standing at the bottom, staring up at me, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape.

  “Everything okay, sweetheart?” she asks as I descend the final step.

  “Fine,” I say, a little too cheerily. “Smells good.”

  She puts her arm around me and we start to walk slowly toward the kitchen. “That Caroline is quite the little chef.”

  “Who knew?” I whisper back.

  “She’s been keeping her talents hidden under moodiness and chains.”

  I hold back a giggle as we enter the kitchen. Everyone’s already sitting around the table, and I take the open seat between Brandon and Dad as Mom starts to dish up the pasta.

  Small talk ensues through the duration of the meal, and I’m pleased to see Caroline engaging all of us. Much the same way Mom and Dad are probably pleased to see me engaging everyone. It does feel good to laugh and chat about the mundane things in life.

  “Well, it’s getting late,” Brandon says. It’s long after we’ve finished our meals, and we’ve just been sitting here at the kitchen table talking about everything and nothing.

  I look at the clock. 9:15. Where did the time go?

  My gaze wanders to Brandon. He’s looking at me, and our eyes lock. I want to talk to him alone; I want to thank him for being so cool and understanding in the bathroom earlier. Which sounds really strange when put that way.

  I look away as I bite back a smile.

  “Are we going to try that recipe tomorrow, Caroline?”

  Caroline blinks her thick, black lashes at Mom. “Really? Tomorrow?”

  “Sure! Come on by around four thirty. That’ll give us plenty of time.”

  “Actually, she’s got more transcribing to do for me,” I pipe up. “So come right after school, okay?”

  Brandon flashes me a smile leaden with gratitude. Getting Caroline over here right after school means she won’t have time to get into any trouble with her so-called friends.

  “All right, I guess,” Caroline says, trying to play it cool, but I see how pleased she is under all that makeup.

  “Well, I guess we’ll see you both again tomorrow for dinner,” Dad says in his soft-spoken voice. “Get home safe.”

  I walk Brandon and Caroline to the door while Dad and Mom start to clean up dinner. Caroline definitely has more pep in her step than usual, and that’s saying something, since she’s still wearing those clunky boots. She throws on her coat, and then whirls around. Before I know what’s happening, she’s got her arms around me.

  “See you tomorrow, Jess,” she says, giving me a tight squeeze.

  “Um, yeah,” I reply, trying to process this sudden change in Brandon’s little sister. “See you tomorrow. Thanks for everything. Oh, and dinner was delicious.”

  She beams with pride. “Thanks.”

  Brandon hands her the keys to the car. “Start her up for us, okay?”

  “You drove?” She stares at him incredulously and the obstinate Goth-girl is back for a moment.

  “It was windy. I didn’t want to mess up my hair.”

  Caroline rolls her eyes and Brandon winks at me as she stomps out the door. Once she’s shut it behind her, Brandon turns a bit more serious.

  “I really can’t thank you enough,” he says. “She’s like a different person. Or maybe like the person she used to be, I guess.”

  “It’s nothing.” I shrug. “I’m happy to keep her off the streets.”

  “Listen, I was gonna go shopping tomorrow for some new clothes. Any chance you’d like to come along and be a second pair of eyes? I really can’t be trusted in a department store.”

  “Oh, no?” I raise my eyebrows, curious to know what he means by that.

  “I’ll have to show you my closet sometime. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “Am I to believe you spend uncontrollably on things you don’t need, then?”

  He shrugs, and one corner of his mouth turns up into a wry smile. “Don’t need…should never, ever in a million years put on my body…you know. Just an all-around disaster.”

  I laugh
. “I’ll help you,” I say, “but on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That when we get back, you have to try on every hideous piece for me.”

  “And then we’ll bag them up and take them to Goodwill.”

  I hold out my hand and he shakes it. “Deal.”

  We hold hands a little longer than I’m comfortable with, and I jerk mine away.

  There’s a moment of awkward silence. I wish there wasn’t. There shouldn’t be. We’re friends. Good friends. That’s all. The fact that he’s really cute has nothing to do with anything.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then,” he finally says.

  I step back, worried that he’s going to try to hug me. If he does, I have no idea what will happen. I could break down into tears again. I could throw my legs around his middle and beg him to take me to bed. Either one is a risk I’m not willing to take.

  “Have a good night.”

  He nods, understanding, and then heads out the front door.

  TEN

  Brandon shows up at nine thirty the next morning. The weather is a bit warmer today, so we’re both in long-sleeved t-shirts and jeans. We look like the Bopsy Twins, except I’m in green and he’s in navy blue.

  “Nice outfit,” he says as I climb into the passenger seat of his car.

  “You too,” I reply, but that’s all we say on the matter.

  We head for the mall, making a quick stop at Starbucks—an iced latte for me and a green tea for him, which totally makes me look bad. I wish he had ordered first.

  We finally arrive at the mall, and it’s practically deserted, being ten o’clock on a weekday. It’s nice. And it’s nice being here with him.

  I glance sideways at him as he leads us toward the men’s department of Macy’s. I hate that I find him so attractive. Who knew I’d be developing a crush on geeky Brandon from high school?