You Don't Live Here

by Robyn Schneider

  Before I could say anything, they’d gone inside.

  I stared at Cole, in my grandparents’ garage, standing amid all the clutter from someone else’s life. An old baseball glove dangled from a half-open storage bin, poised to catch a ball that was never coming.

  Was that my mother’s? Had she played softball as a kid? I’d never asked. It had never seemed important. And now it was just another conversation we’d never have.

  “So,” Cole said, stretching. “How’d I do on the Boy Scout part?”

  “Acceptable.” I hefted the bouquet of flowers, pink and orange roses from Trader Joe’s. “These were a nice touch.”

  “Those are for real. You only turn seventeen once,” he said.

  “Well, thanks,” I said. “All right, this is the part where you go home. I’ll, uh, walk you to your car.”

  “Such a gentleman,” Cole teased, and I rolled my eyes.

  At the curb, Cole leaned against the side of his Land Rover, smiling down at me.

  “Don’t I get a birthday kiss?” he asked.

  “It’s my birthday,” I protested.

  “Oh, right,” Cole said, his eyes glittering with mischief. “I guess that means I owe you a kiss.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warned, just as he was about to lean in.

  “That’s just making me think about it more,” he complained, but he held his hands up and backed away.

  I waited as he climbed into his car. He rolled down the passenger side window.

  “See you tomorrow, Freshman,” he called. And then he drove away so quickly that his tires squealed against the asphalt.

  I turned back to the house, and that’s when I saw Lily sitting on our front steps, a homemade birthday cake on her lap.

  Oh no.

  Oh no, oh no, oh no.

  This couldn’t be happening. Because I knew what it looked like, and it looked bad. Very bad.

  “Hi,” I said guiltily.

  “What the hell, Sasha?” she fumed.

  I’d never seen her so furious.

  “Can I just explain—”

  “—Explain what?” she retorted. “You said you were at dinner with your grandparents, so I baked a cake to surprise you. And then I saw the car and thought, huh, that’s weird, that looks like Cole’s car. And then I saw you. With him.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Did he give you flowers?”

  We both stared down at the bouquet I was holding.

  “Yes, but—” I started.

  “Which is it, Sasha?” she demanded. “Are you his girlfriend or mine?”

  “I’m not—it’s not.” I tried again. “There’s nothing between Cole and me.”

  “Which is why he was at your birthday dinner,” she said sarcastically. “A dinner you conveniently didn’t want me to know about. So thanks for that.” And then her eyes went wide. “Oh my god. That night at the concert. I had to drag you away from him.”

  “You did not,” I protested.

  “He was all over you,” Lily said. “And then you fed me that bullshit about keeping us a secret? I should have known! I thought you wanted to tiptoe around because you’re still in the closet, not because you’re a cheat and a liar.”

  Lily let out a cross between a sob and a gasp. Her shoulders were shaking, and her fists were clenched, and the cake sat forgotten behind her on the steps.

  I was close to tears myself. They were threatening to pour out, hot and angry, but I wasn’t going to cry. Not now. Not yet.

  “Cole’s just a friend,” I promised.

  “Does he know that?” Lily asked. And then, without waiting for an answer, she added, “Yeah. I didn’t think so.”

  “I just—I didn’t want anyone to get hurt,” I said, my voice small and watery.

  “Lie,” Lily accused. “Because you, Sasha Bloom, are a coward. You’re so terrified of people not liking you that you tell them whatever they want to hear. But you know what? Hurting the people you care about is worse than not being liked.”

  She was tearing me apart. I was in ribbons. Shreds. I was soggy confetti, stuck to the sidewalk. I was a spill, a stain, an absolutely terrible excuse for a human being.

  It was the worst thing anyone had ever said to me. I felt small and worthless and horrible. And I hated it. This time, when the tears bubbled up, I didn’t stop them.

  “No, it’s not like that,” I said.

  “It’s exactly like that,” Lily corrected. “You didn’t want to hurt anyone? Bullshit. You lied because it was easier. Because the truth is always hard. Because being queer is hard, and coming out is hard, and it never stops being hard. The world keeps shoving into you. But you stand tall anyway. You take up space anyway. At least, I’ve tried to. And I thought you were with me. But then you shoved into me, too.”

  “Lily, I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “I know you are,” she said. “But you hurt me. So right now, I don’t really care about your feelings.”

  She stormed out of there, leaving me on my lawn with the sickening aftertaste of what I’d done.

  And I deserved it. Oh god, I deserved it. I’d ruined everything.

  I started up the front steps, tremendously upset, shaking, feeling the bile rise in my throat. My birthday cake was still sitting on the steps. Chocolate frosting, with white candles arranged in a grid, like the lamppost forest.

  I crouched down to rescue it, but in a grand stroke of irony, I couldn’t carry both the cake and the flowers. So I left the flowers on the porch.

  They’d live. Although I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  What I wanted was to scramble onto Lily’s backyard trampoline with my birthday cake and cup my hands around hers as a shield while she struck a match. I wanted to blow out the lamppost forest of candles. When she told me to make a wish, I wanted to lean forward and kiss her instead, because that was better than making a wish that would never come true.

  I wanted us to eat as many slices as we wanted, or maybe just stick our forks straight into the cake. And I wanted us to lie back and stare up at the terrible stars and the blinking lights of the airplanes trying to make their curfew.

  I wanted us to talk for hours. About what it was like to celebrate a birthday without a parent, and how hard it felt to lose your traditions, and how grateful I was for the way she’d decorated her car, because I’d never had a friend, or a boyfriend—or a girlfriend—who would go to that kind of trouble for me before. I wanted us to talk about silly things, like which Hogwarts houses we’d sort the contestants on this season of Great British Bake Off into, and what was the deal with that fish-shaped ice cream cone on her Instagram, and did she think I’d look good with bangs?

  But I’d messed up, and I couldn’t do any of that. I couldn’t have any of that. All I could do was march inside, holding her beautiful cake, which was tainted beyond repair.

  My grandmother was waiting in the foyer. So desperate to hear how it had gone with her precious friend’s perfect grandson. To know everything about me without actually knowing anything about me.

  “Sasha, what’s going on?” she asked, frowning. “I heard yelling.”

  “We broke up,” I blubbered. “We broke up, and it’s all my fault.”

  I was talking about Lily, not Cole, but she didn’t know that.

  “What happened? What did you do? Sasha, talk to me.”

  “I just want to be alone,” I said. “Please throw this away.”

  I handed her the cake, and then I bolted for the stairs. Pearl followed worriedly at my heels, whining.

  “You can come,” I told her.

  I scooped her into my arms, hugging her tight.

  And then I slammed the door to my dead mother’s room and lay on the bed with someone else’s dog, my eyes heavy with tears.

  School the next day was predictably terrible. I wondered if Lily would wait at the curb for our carpool, or if that was over.

  And then I realized that I didn’t want to find out. So I left early,
walking to school with my headphones on, listening to gloomy breakup music, figuring that if anyone ever made a movie of my life, I might as well help them out by choosing the soundtrack.

  Even with my headphones, I still felt Lily’s car drive up behind me, as if by magic. I knew it was her even before she sped past, windows down, Tegan and Sara blasting. I caught a glimpse of Adam’s face in the passenger seat, staring out at me with concern.

  And then it was gone, and I was left alone with my sad music and my impractical shoes that would almost certainly give me blisters.

  “What’s going on?” Adam asked at the lockers. “Are you guys fighting? Lily won’t talk to me about it.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sad smile. “We’re fighting.”

  “So apologize,” Adam said.

  I sighed.

  “I wish I knew how.”

  But I barely knew how to get through the day, much less repair the damage I’d caused. I saw Lily between classes, just for a moment. She glared at me in the crowded humanities courtyard, angling to march straight past, with her chin jutting stubbornly.

  And then some hulking football dudes started fake shoving into each other, and everyone skirted around, and for one moment, Lily and I were so close, our shoulders inches apart. But the energy radiating off her was so hostile.

  Weirdly, while Lily wanted nothing to do with me, Cole was the exact opposite. He was waiting by my locker at lunch to ask me why I’d never told him about the earthquake.

  “Why do you even care?” I asked.

  “Because we’re friends,” he insisted, frowning.

  Were we friends? I wasn’t sure. I knew Lily couldn’t stand him, because of what he’d done when they were fourteen. And even though I was still upset with him over the photos he’d taken, and his lackluster apology, I couldn’t bring myself to write him off completely.

  The forlorn way he looked, sitting at his lunch table sandwiched between two couples. His comment about eating delivery dinner by himself, and his allusions to everything at home being complicated. How his drinking and smoking seemed to be an escape from something. His soccer injuries that Ethan never seemed to have, even though they were both on the team. His flashes of insight, and the way, when he teased me about being a weirdo, it was never mean, only delighted.

  He’d had my back at my birthday dinner, defending me to my grandmother about the pizza and lying for me about Mock Trial. There was more beneath the surface than I’d initially thought. And I wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed. Which had to be hard, being so obviously someone else than the person everyone else saw.

  “Yeah, I guess we’re friends,” I agreed.

  “For now,” Cole added cockily, making me wince.

  I was about to correct him, but then some soccer bro came past, shouting “Colon!” and jumping all over him, and Cole laughed, transforming into a deep-voiced jock, and I slipped away while he was distracted.

  I pretended to have a migraine to get out of Phys Ed. I hadn’t been to the nurse’s office since Lily had taken me with my sprained ankle, the day she’d first offered to drive me home, and it felt fitting to be back here again now that that was over.

  I didn’t know what to do. How I was supposed to face her at lunch or in class, or pretty much ever, especially since our friends had no idea what was wrong. Dating in secret had seemed like a good plan at first, but now it meant having to carry around this enormous amount of pain and to lie about it.

  Now I’d broken Lily’s heart, and she couldn’t tell anyone, which was like hurting her all over again.

  It was a mess. My mess.

  And I hated it so much. I wanted to hide from it forever. To crawl under the covers and wait for it to pass.

  I didn’t know how to talk to Adam or Ryland or Mabel. Or anyone. Lily got to keep everything she’d loaned me, while I lost almost everything that made life in Bayport bearable.

  I had the house to myself that afternoon. My grandmother was putting the finishing touches on a pet adoption fund-raiser, and Pearl was at the groomer’s, and my grandfather was at the office.

  The emptiness felt bigger without the dog. Or maybe the sum of my own emptiness and the huge, echoing house that was empty in a different way was just too much to bear. It was Friday, and the weekend stretched in front of me, long and lonely.

  I didn’t know what to do about Lily. How to make her listen. How to explain. Because it wasn’t what she thought, and because I was sorry, and because I didn’t know what else to do.

  I picked up my phone.

  Can we please, please talk? I texted.

  But she didn’t reply. And I didn’t blame her.

  I knew what it had looked like. How hurtful it must have been for her to see that. To see me with him, of all people.

  Cole was just a friend. Nothing more.

  Does he know that? Lily had asked.

  I wasn’t sure.

  I went into the kitchen and got myself a snack. Unlike after my mom died, when I’d lost my appetite entirely, this disaster with Lily had left me starving. I ate a bagel, which I was surprised we even had in the house, and then some of my grandfather’s stash of chocolate-covered almonds, which he kept at the very top of the pantry.

  Lily still hadn’t texted me back. I wondered what she was doing, and if she was thinking about me.

  The seconds trickled by in agony.

  Was it really only three o’clock?

  I couldn’t concentrate on anything. It was hot outside, the sun blazing stubbornly, despite it being halfway through November. So I changed into my bathing suit and grabbed a book I’d read a dozen times, taking it into the backyard.

  The pool is calming because our bodies are seventy percent water.

  Actually, they’re seventy percent dinosaur pee.

  I tried to concentrate on my book, but it was no use. Lily was everywhere. In the blank space between the paragraphs, I found myself thinking about the smell of her perfume. In the margins of the page, the way it felt to press my lips against hers. My broken heart was a bookmark, marking the place where she was supposed to text me back, and where I checked my phone again to see that she hadn’t.

  I closed my eyes, feeling the pressure of uncried tears against my eyelids. Even with the sun warm against my face, even with the pool and my bathing suit and a book, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t numb myself to the world and lose track of time the way I had over the summer.

  Instead, I was all too aware of each painful moment. I wondered if Lily was home, if she was standing at some window staring out at my yard, at me. If she missed me the way I missed her.

  And then I worried she didn’t. That, without me, she was fine. With Adam and Ryland and Mabel, with Art Club and her awesome accepting family and her fancy house and fancy car.

  Without her, I was nothing. A sketch of a person I didn’t want to be, all shadows and imperfections. I wanted to crumple it up and start again, the way Mr. Saldana let us in class.

  I left my book on the chair, closed my eyes, and started walking.

  It only took a few steps before there was nothing beneath my feet except air. Before I plunged into the freezing water.

  I let myself sink to the bottom of my grandparents’ pool, and then I stared up at the wavy surface, far above my head. At the pale, anemic sunlight. At the world that kept fracturing around me, no matter what I did.

  Maybe I was a fault line, and that’s why no one around me was safe. I was made of broken pieces, and it was only a matter of time before they shifted and everyone I loved got hurt.

  The pool hadn’t been heated, and the cold was almost unbearable. But I deserved it, I told myself. I hurt her. I ruined it. I screwed up.

  I needed air. Needed to breathe. My lungs screamed, but I forced myself to stay under, to endure it for a few seconds longer, because at least the pain of frigid water and empty lungs was a pain that didn’t have to do with my mother dying, or Lily hating me.

  I crashed to the surface, gulping for ai
r.

  Wanting to live. Needing to keep going. But the worst part was, no matter where I went or what I did, I still felt so alone. I was shedding the people I cared about like ballast, no matter how much I tried to hold on.

  Chapter 27

  “SO TODAY’S THE DAY,” MY GRANDFATHER said at breakfast the next morning. I had no idea what he was talking about. Or why we were eating bagels, instead of something healthier.

  I nodded, my mouth full, and mumbled an approximation of “yep.”

  Lily still hadn’t texted me back, and I was miserable. I’d wanted to wallow in bed forever, but my grandmother had insisted I wake up so we could all have breakfast and “get going.”

  “Are you all ready?” she asked, reaching for the cream cheese.

  “Ready?” I echoed.

  “For the big event,” my grandmother said.

  I stared at her, confused.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “The Mock Trial match against St. Stephens,” my grandmother said. “I saw it on the school Facebook page.”

  My chest clenched as I tried not to panic. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Really, Sasha, you should have said something,” my grandmother went on. “If I hadn’t looked . . . well.”

  “I had to cancel a round of golf at the last minute, so I didn’t miss it,” my grandfather put in.

  I wanted to die.

  I wanted the ground to open up beneath me, for an earthquake to happen right at that moment, for any disaster, natural or man-made, to divert their attention so I could make my escape.

  “Oh, um, you guys don’t need to come to that,” I said. “I don’t even think it’s allowed, actually.”

  “Nonsense,” my grandmother said. “It was right there on the event, friends and family welcome.”

  She took out her iPad and showed me the Facebook page, the font blown up huge.

  Mock Trial head-to-head: Baycrest vs. St. Stephens, friends and family welcome! the event read.

  “How early do you need to be there, sweetheart?” my grandfather asked me.

  Shit. I was going to have to tell them.

  I took a deep breath, my heart hammering.

  “Um, Grandma? Grandpa?” I said. “I actually quit Mock Trial. I’m really sorry.”