by Kaela Coble
“Thanks,” he says. He steps into the living room but stays close to the door, unsure what to do next.
“Let’s sit,” I say.
“Take your shoes off,” Emmett says sternly to Danny, who obeys.
Emmett and I sit on our couch, and Danny takes a chair on the opposite side of the room. He fidgets a lot, rubbing the scruff that lines his jaw, running his hands through hair that hasn’t been washed in at least a few days, scratching at his arm through his long-sleeved thermal T-shirt. Early summer has been unexpectedly brutal, the humidity suffocating. We’ve run our window AC unit twice already, and it’s only the second week of June. But Danny wears a long-sleeved shirt because he has a lot to cover up.
I sit in silence, still so groggy I wonder for a moment if this might just be a dream.
“So…what’s up, Dan?” Emmett prompts Danny.
“Listen, man,” Danny says. “I’ve been thinkin’. I think it’s time I get clean.”
“That’s great, man,” Emmett says, but his tone is cautious. “What brought this on?”
“Steve’s dead, and Chris is in the hospital,” Danny says. He sniffs and wipes at his nose.
I look at Emmett, asking Who are Steve and Chris? with my eyes.
“Who are Steve and Chris?” Emmett asks.
“Customers,” Dan says. “I think that last batch I sold them… There’s something wrong with it.”
My hand flies to my chest. Emmett’s mouth opens and closes. We look at each other. The last “batch” Danny sold must have been the last batch Emmett brought in. Just a few days ago.
“How many people did you sell to already?” Emmett asks, his voice panicked.
“I don’t know, man. A lot.” Danny leans forward in the chair, both hands running back and forth through his hair.
I feel like I might vomit. I don’t know any details about this arrangement Emmett has with Danny. Emmett doesn’t even know how much “product” he brings in each week. There could be dozens or hundreds or even thousands of doses stuffed in the bowels of those cars he brings back.
“Do you need my help to…you know…get it all back?”
Danny looks at Emmett in surprise. I may even see a hint of a smile in his eyes. He shakes his head. “No, Emmett. I’ve started to spread the word, but that’s not exactly how this works.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Junkies don’t generally make a habit of giving their drugs back,” he says. “All I can do is tell them it’s a dangerous batch and hope they’re smart enough to tide themselves over some other way.”
I shudder, thinking about what other ways these people will find to “tide themselves over.”
“So what do you want from me?” Emmett asks. His face is red to the tips of his ears again, and I squeeze his arm.
“I was hoping I could crash here for a few days.”
“Here?” Emmett asks.
“Yeah, um, I know it’s a lot to ask, but everyone knows where to find me at Mom’s. If I’m going to get off this stuff, I can’t be around…customers.”
“But…here?” Emmett repeats. “What about Murphy’s?”
“You know he and I haven’t talked in years, Emmett. You practically threw a parade for it when we had our falling-out.”
“But I’m sure if he knew you needed help…”
“No,” Danny says.
“What about Ally and Aaron’s? They live up on the hill, farther away from the tracks than us even and have all that extra room.”
Danny starts laughing. He laughs until tears come out of his eyes. Emmett and I exchange a look. What kind of drugs is this kid on? It takes a long time for Danny to catch his breath. “Trust me, man, that’s not an option,” he finally says.
“What about—”
“Listen, we’ve never been best buds. I know what you think of me. Do you think I would be here if I had anywhere else to go?”
Emmett and Danny look at each other for a really long time. I want to interrupt, to say that Danny is welcome to stay with us for a few days. But that’s not what I really want. This kid scares me. It doesn’t feel safe even having him sitting in this living room, for more reasons than one.
“Do you need a place to hide from your junkie buddies, or do you need a place to hide from the cops?” Emmett finally asks.
In the three seconds that Danny hesitates, we get our answer.
“Get out of here,” Emmett says, standing up.
Danny stands up too. “It’s both!” he says, but too late.
“Yeah, right,” Emmett says. He grabs Danny by the arm, leads him to the door, and opens it. “You manipulative piece of shit.”
Danny reaches out to clutch Emmett’s T-shirt. “You’ve gotta believe me, Emmett. Yeah, I need to lay low, but I also really want to get clean, man. I swear to God. I don’t want to end up like Steve!”
“Don’t come back here,” Emmett says, giving him one last push outside and slamming the door in Danny’s face.
“I helped you when you needed it!” Danny shouts through the door. “You fucking prick!”
24
ALLY
NOW
I should have said no when Steph first asked me about red satin for the bridesmaid’s dresses. She probably would have listened to me. But no, I kept my trap shut so Steph could have everything she wanted. Now I’m standing here seven months pregnant, my belly looking like a giant tomato with a button at the center. Spanx engineered by NASA couldn’t cover up this belly button in satin—the bitchiest of fabrics, if you ask me. I can only imagine how many times it will be pressed at the reception.
At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t look her best. I finally wrestled Ruby into my chair to give her some highlights, insisting the dress would clash with her hair and make her look sick, which it does because she wouldn’t let me do more than a partial, always so cautious ever since I made that one tiny mistake in high school. You couldn’t even see the parts that turned black; I don’t know why she had to be so dramatic about it. Anyway, her hair is still too strawberry. I did my best to give her a good updo and makeup, but it just doesn’t look right together.
Emmett and Steph say their vows, the traditional churchy ones. Aaron is straight across from me, where the groomsmen stand. He catches my eye and winks. I swear, when he does that, it gets to me just like it did when we were kids. And here we are about to have a kid of our own. Someday she will get winked at and feel that skip in her heart that makes you stupid. What a scary thought.
Of course, I don’t know for sure it’s a girl. My sister-in-law told me not knowing the sex gave her that extra motivation to push no matter how tired she was, and I thought that sounded as sensible as anything so we decided to be surprised too. But I think it’s a girl. I just have a feeling. Ruby said she had a dream it was a boy, but I think that’s just wishful thinking on her part. She’s always been more comfortable around boys.
I try to pay attention to the service, but they’re doing a full mass, and honestly, it’s enough to concentrate just on keeping upright. Finally, they get to the part where the bridesmaids and groomsmen get to sit down, and I collapse into the front pew and fan myself with the program that was on my seat. They really crank up the heat in churches (on account of all the old people), so it’s hot as Halley’s Comet in here. Ruby sits next to me. She notices a trickle of sweat on my forehead and wipes it away. Every time she does something tender like that, something I picture her mother doing when Ruby was little, I worry about Ruby inheriting Nancy’s dark side too.
I remember researching bipolar in the Chatwick High library, wanting to understand why Ruby’s mom was the way she was, and I read that it can be passed down to your kids but sometimes it doesn’t show up until your midtwenties. Aaron tells me I’m just a worrywart. Well, he better get used to it. As much as I love Ruby, can you imagi
ne what I’ll be like with my own kid?
I watch Emmett closely, looking for signs he’s not taking it seriously, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Steph for even one second. Good. I don’t blame him; Steph does look beautiful, angelic almost. Her dress… Well, I won’t get into it because her family kept going on about how unique it is, but let’s just say she could have saved herself the money by taking mine out of storage and tying a sash around the middle. It could have been her something borrowed!
But besides the dress and the hair and the makeup—all beautiful on their own—she has that look to her. I’ve been to a lot of weddings over the years, and you can tell the brides that just want to get married from the brides that are truly in love with their husbands, and she is one of the second kind.
She’ll need it, being married to Emmett McDowell. I do not envy her. I love Emmett the same way Ruby does, in that we both want to kill him most of the time. He’s become a little more thoughtful though, a little softer, since his secret came out. Seems to me his heart condition is making him more aware he has a heart. Or maybe I’m just not taking everything he says as hard.
I hate to say it, but I’m glad we’re at the finish line, that tomorrow this wedding business will be over. And it’s fitting they’re getting married on New Year’s Eve. Today will be the last day of this insane year, and tomorrow we get to start fresh. The last few months have been exhausting, what with the wedding planning and the bridesmaid bickering and the pregnancy. And then there’s the fact that this all started with Danny in a coffin, which I haven’t really even had time to process because I’ve spent so much of my energy being mad at him.
I tell myself I’m only mad because he’s calling us all out on our private business, because he lied about my secret, because he caused so much trouble between Aaron and me and wouldn’t let it fucking drop, having someone leave that creepy note in my mailbox. Danny didn’t know I was pregnant, but I wonder if he did know if he would have given any thought to what that kind of stress could do to the baby.
All that is enough reason to be mad, but that’s not really what pisses me off. I’m mad because he killed himself in the first place. I’m mad he became a heroin addict. I’m mad he never told me he was abused. You better believe I would have done something about it. I know people think of me as a big mouth, but don’t you think that might have been a good thing in this situation? Really, what good did keeping secrets do him in the end?
And maybe that’s the point he was trying to make with his little suicide project. Maybe. I’m still too mad at him to think like that, and the hormones don’t help. Plus, it’s hard to forgive someone when you’re looking over your shoulder all the time, waiting for whatever booby trap he’s set up to reveal what you’ve really been hiding.
I know what you’re thinking. I’m a hypocrite. I’m the one who made us promise we would always be honest with each other. That stupid pact is what started all this in the first place. But hey, give me a break! When we made that pact, the worst thing we could think of to share once I had told about my parents’ divorce was our middle names. (Mine is Dorothy. Emmett’s is Herbert, if you can believe it.) Besides, obviously I’m not the only one who broke it. So back off!
Charlene gets up to do her reading, and Ruby and I clasp hands and wait for Danny’s words to hit us. My heart stops when I see her walk to the podium with an envelope in her hand. Ruby must see it too, because she tenses beside me, her grip on my hand getting so tight my fingers turn red. Was Charlene the one Danny pegged to do his evil deeds? Is this the moment he chose for all our secrets to be revealed? I assumed it was some junkie friend of his, but seeing that envelope…
She pulls two sheets of paper out of the envelope and looks at each of them, like Alice in Wonderland when she’s trying to decide whether to eat the mushroom that makes her giant or the one that makes her small.
I take a deep breath, like the doctor taught me to when I’m feeling stressed, and try to talk myself out of my panic. It wouldn’t make sense for Charlene to be the one, or for this to be the time. When she read us Danny’s letter, it was the first time she’d read it herself, and she was upset by it. No one is that good of an actor. Not on the day they bury their son. And Steph and Emmett weren’t engaged when Danny died, so he couldn’t have asked her to do it today. I must just be traumatized by those goddamn envelopes.
Charlene abandons one of the sheets of paper to the podium and holds the other in her shaking hands, looking at it for a long time as if she’s trying to decide whether to really read it. Sensible or not, I hold my breath until she starts to read:
“Near to you,
I am safe and full.
My brain allows itself to slow,
and I fall into your comfort.
I sleep and dream of your face.
I wake and trace it with my fingertips.
How lucky I am
to feel this love.
This warmth.
If only for a moment.
To know this home
that exists where you are.
No words.
No need.
Just an effortless reach
for my hand,
and I know I am loved by you.
Wherever you are,
I am home
Near to you.”
I hear Ruby sniff beside me, and I bite my lip to stop myself from bursting into tears. It’s a beautiful poem. One I’ve heard before. And it’s about me.
When Charlene finishes, she looks directly into my eyes.
• • •
At the reception, I look around for Charlene but don’t see her. I want to catch her before the speeches are made, just in case she has some other kind of speech planned. Aaron notices the panicked look on my face and asks if I’m feeling okay. I tell him yes, that I’m just a little worn out from being on my feet all morning doing all our hair and makeup. It’s not exactly a lie; I am exhausted.
Steph’s mom hurries us to our seats at the head table. I look around again and still don’t see Charlene. I allow myself to think she went home after the ceremony, and breathe a little easier. I was just being paranoid. She probably had two poems that she wanted to read and was deciding at the last minute which one felt right. She probably looked at me because I was a familiar face, the easiest one in the crowd to spot because I look like a giant tomato.
“Josh, do you think you could move down a seat? I would like to sit next to Murphy. You know, my date,” Krystal says to Emmett’s brother, louder than seems necessary.
I roll my eyes at Aaron. Honestly, I don’t see why Krystal goes to the trouble of embarrassing herself over Murphy. He certainly wouldn’t do it for her. After her bizarro behavior on the NYC trip, she went right back to swearing up and down that she and Murphy are not in a relationship and she’s fine with that. She’s still getting over What’s-His-Name who she dated since high school, and she’s not ready for anything real and blah, blah, blah. But then there’s times like these when it’s obvious she wants everyone to treat her like she’s part of a legitimate couple. Weddings make people a little desperate, I think.
I’m glad I’ve never had to go to one of these things alone, with everyone else coupled off. Poor Ruby, the only one in the wedding party without a date. She’s always been the independent one, trying to make it seem like it doesn’t bother her that she’s always single. Aaron thinks maybe it doesn’t, but how could it not? I mean there’s gotta be a reason she still keeps Jamie on her hook. Everyone gets lonely.
Ruby’s parents are here, and so are my mom and Murphy’s parents. Ruby hugs Murphy’s mom, and Murphy hugs Ruby’s in opposite corners of the reception hall, both mothers shouting about how the kids are so grown up and how they turned out so well. In high school, a lot of people thought that Ruby and Danny would make a perfect couple—both of them were so dark and brooding and intellectual—but
I wasn’t that surprised when I found out something went on between her and Murphy instead.
It was always Murphy I thought she belonged with back then. Murphy was funny and easy, and he never let her take herself too seriously. He shone some light into her darkness. And somehow, even though you would think she would bring him down, she lit him up too. Still does. I mean, just look at the way he’s looking at her now! I think it’s because she challenges him in a way the other girls he dates never have. He always opts for easy, but it’s the hard that brings out the best in him.
I allow myself to get carried away and pretend for a minute that this is Ruby and Murphy’s wedding and they’re mingling with their own guests. Then I shudder. What a disaster that would be. Murphy’s a Chatwick boy through and through, and if the last few years have taught us anything, he would sooner jump off a bridge than settle down. And Ruby. Well, now that I’ve seen her in New York, I can’t help but notice how jittery and unsure of herself she is here, in the place where she grew up. Ruby’s not comfortable in Chatwick, and Murphy’s not comfortable a mile outside it. They would have to be married over Skype. Plus, in my experience, dark and light might be drawn to each other (as Paula Abdul herself says, opposites attract), but that doesn’t mean they’ll work out in the long term.
Still though, it’s my fantasy, and if I want to picture her bucking her big-city life and settling down in Chatwick, I’m going to go right on ahead. I know Ruby did the right thing by not having that baby at eighteen, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t pop out a brood of Murphy’s hellion babies now that could be friends with my kids. It would be like the crew 2.0!
Ruby sits next to me and Aaron at the head table, and I notice her refilling her champagne twice over dinner. Either she’s loosened up over the years, realizing that just because her mother’s an alcoholic doesn’t mean she is, or else she is starting to show signs… When I make eyes at Aaron, he mouths “worrywart” at me.
