“The whole neighborhood talks about me. I know your father wanted to talk to me when I was in high school but I never went, so I can’t even imagine what you’ve heard.”
“You’re the only other person near my age on this block, plus you’re pretty.”
“Pretty?”
He nodded. “Yes. Is that weird for me to say?”
“Are you trying to get in my pants?”
“No. I mean. No. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay, I was just making sure. Do you want another beer?”
I had never talked so much to someone who wasn’t family. Once I started, it seemed I couldn’t stop. There was so much relief. I loved talking to my dad. This was something different. Piper would have been so proud of me. I wanted her to be there to scream and ask me a million questions until I would tell her to calm down.
Seven Years Ago
“Portia! Portia!” It was eleven on a Saturday night. Dad was out at a bar with his friends. Mom was away on a business trip. I had been sleeping. Piper had been out with her friends. I woke up in a panic.
“Are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong?”
“I kissed a boy!” She had been twelve years old.
My first kiss wouldn’t be until I was nineteen.
“What?”
“It was amazing. I did it and then he stuck his tongue down my throat.” She started laughing.
“Gross,” I said.
“It was, kind of, but when he did it, I thought I was going to choke so I told him to stop.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know…he’s in the eighth grade.”
“And he shoved his tongue in like on TV?” My eyes widened.
“Yeah, I told him I didn’t like that. So we kept kissing but without the tongue.”
Disgusted, I couldn’t hear any more. “Mom and Dad are going to kill you.”
“They’ll never know. It was so much fun.”
“Piper, you’re twelve, you’re just a baby.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a woman now. I feel so much older and more experienced. I can’t wait to tell everyone at school.”
“You’ll be really popular.”
“I know! I’m going to text everyone, you can go back to sleep.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She giggled and walked out of the room.
After that, I started to look up to her. She was younger than me. She was a sassy little thing, but I wanted so badly to be her. She inspired me. I tried to get out there. I tried to change for her. When I couldn’t, she never said anything, but I saw how it affected her, and it hurt. She never knew the guilt I felt for not being the sister she’d always wanted.
Three Years Ago
“Who’s your new friend?”
“Ethan. He lives across the street. We only had a few beers.”
“It’s good you’re making friends, but I swear, Portia, if you’re making more runs to the store than usual, he’s going to have to chip in. Beer is not cheap.”
“Dad. Relax. It was one time. I’ll probably never see him again.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m too busy taking care of you…speaking of, what’s for dinner?”
“Spaghetti. I don’t think I did it right, though.”
I went into the kitchen and froze: the sink piled high with dirty dishes. A box of pasta was half-spilled onto the table. Dried sauce stuck to the stovetop. Empty beer cans scattered haphazardly around a stack of unopened mail. Somehow, there was red sauce on my shirt.
“Dad—”
“Yeah, I gave up. There are some TV dinners in the freezer; just pop one of those in the microwave and bam, four minutes later, dinner.”
“Cool…but pasta is not as cheap as it used to be.” I winked at him.
“We should clean the house tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Dad and I lived a pretty boring life. Fall television season was starting, my favorite time of year. We had something new to watch every single night. On Saturdays, we would watch a movie. During the day, he watched sports and I watched Lifetime movies. That was it.
Between the two of us, we smoked a pack and drank six beers a day.
I missed my sister and my mother, but this became a comfortable, familiar routine. I felt no pressure to go out and meet people. I was going to school, which I loved—online classes Monday through Wednesday, from one to six. I could understand why outsiders might be worried, but at the end of the day, it was none of their business.
Still, I was struggling. I needed to get the book for a class I was barely passing; I thought I would be able to get through the class without it. But getting it meant going to UCLA in person. I was dreading it. But I had an idea.
I invited Ethan over.
“I need your help with something,” I said, grabbing him a beer.
“What is it?”
“I go to school online…”
“SMC?”
“No. I thought about it, but my mom had a trust fund for me and then when she died, my dad wanted me to use most of the money on school, so I go to UCLA”
“What? No way. You got in?”
“I got in a few places. Piper wanted me to pick UCLA mainly because she heard the guys were hot.” I giggled. “Anyway, I always knew I was going to do online classes.”
“So, you only do online classes?”
“Yes.”
“That’s cool. Now I know you’ll always be home.”
“Or at the liquor store.” I giggled.
“How can I help? I only go to community college. You are obviously way smarter than me.”
“Don’t say that. I just need a book from school. In situations like this…before, Piper would help me.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I can’t go to campus. There’s no way. I can barely go to the convenience store. I can walk a block but I can’t…” I started to choke up. I had to stop talking because I didn’t know how to explain my problem. I’d never had to before. My family just knew. My family did the explaining for me. I hated this. Embarrassed, I chugged the beer.
“I’ll be right back.” I went to get another. I opened the fridge and stuck my head in, taking deep breaths. I got down on my knees.
“Are you okay?” He startled me.
“Yeah, sorry.” I popped up and shut the fridge.
“I can get the book for you if you want. I can even pick up some beer and smokes for you guys—you know, make an errand out of it?”
“Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know…I thought that’s what you were getting at.”
“I just need help. I can’t explain why I can’t do it on my own.”
“You mean like a ride?”
“Sure, yeah, that’s what I mean.”
“You want to go right now?”
“After this beer…” I wanted to down two more before we left, but my dad would notice.
Chapter 3
The last time I’d been in a car, it had been my mother’s and Piper’s funeral. I just remember clinging to my dad. He’d made sure no one talked to me, made sure everyone stayed away. It must have been so hard for him to take care of me when he was going through so much pain himself.
“I know it’s not the fanciest car in the world but—”
“It’s fine. I don’t care what kind of car you have. I just appreciate you taking me.”
“It’s okay. I like your company.” He put his hand lightly on my thigh. “Seriously, I’m happy to help.”
I smiled as we drove off.
We lived about thirty minutes away from the school. If I had been a normal girl, I thought, I would be making this drive every day. I would go to class. I would get called on. It was impossible, though. I was just thankful I could take online classes.
“What are you thinking about?”
I ha
dn’t said a word since we’d gotten in the car. He hadn’t either. He played music—country. It was soothing.
“My dad likes country.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded.
“Who does he like?”
“Randy Travis. George Strait. I don’t know. Kenny Rogers. Just the other day, we were listening to ‘Alice’s Restaurant’ by Arlo Guthrie. That’s our favorite song. It’s always on. You would think I would get tired of it but it’s just background music to me now.”
He laughed. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you listen to?”
“I listen to newer stuff like Luke Bryan, Blake Shelton, and Hunter Hayes.”
“Okay, so pop country.”
“But I like my indie electronic, too—The Knife.”
“Hmm. What do you do for fun?”
I had never been asked that. I would have never ever thought I would be in a situation where someone would ask me that.
“What? Is that a stupid question?”
“I hate talking about myself and I don’t want you to get angry and not take me to get the book.”
“I’m pretty sure whatever you have to tell me won’t stop me from taking you. Come on, we already talked a lot about me, and I know everything about Piper. Tell me something about you, Portia.”
I looked out the window and lit a cigarette. “Do you mind?”
“Nah, I smoke in the car all the time. But don’t change the subject.”
“I have a social anxiety disorder. I was ten when I got diagnosed. But my family didn’t know how to deal with it. My sister was the only one who tried to get me help. It felt nice to know there were other people out there like me, but it also sucked to know that I would never get to meet them.”
He stared blankly into my eyes and then onto the road. It felt like a whole two minutes before he began to speak.
“That’s what you meant when you said you needed help?”
nodded.
“I thought you just needed a ride. Wow. Okay. That’s cool.”
“It’s not.”
“A chick that smokes Marlboro Reds and can down a six-pack in thirty minutes.” He looked over at me. “That’s fucking cool.”
“You think so?”
“Doesn’t matter what disorder you have, I like you.”
We were pulling into the parking lot of the university. This one was bigger than the one at the high school, and it was full of people. I hadn’t been at a school in two years. The last day of high school had been the best day of my life. I thought I would never have to do that again, but here I was, at UCLA. I braced myself for a panic attack.
He parked. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move. I just sat there staring. There were so many people. My body reacted like I was about to get attacked by each one of them. Any minute, all those people were going to surround the car.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
He should not have said that.
I didn’t think I’d ever be ready. I shook my head and started looking for my phone. There had to be a way he could just get the book for me.
“I have to call…I have to…” I was rocking in the passenger seat. It was so hot. I started to roll down the window but then I heard everyone outside and quickly rolled it back up. I turned away from him, not wanting him to see me like this. I would have never asked him if I knew it was going to be this bad.
“Let me find where the bookstore is. I can try and get closer.” He pulled away. I started to relax.
“I’ll just drop this class. I don’t really need it. It’s the only class that requires a book. Just take me home.”
He ignored me and kept driving around the school.
“Just take me home!” I screamed.
“Okay, okay…”
“Wait. I’m sorry. I’m going to call the bookstore and see if you can just go get the book for me.” I needed to relax. I made this guy drive all the way over here. He was being so nice to me. I could do this.
“I can go in with you, Portia. I can talk for you. I can do everything for you. I won’t leave you.” He put his hand on my thigh again. “Just breathe, let’s take a minute. Let’s just find the closer parking lot. Sit in the car. Smoke another cigarette. Talk, relax, and if you want to go home, then I’ll take you home.”
Why was he being so nice? What was in it for him? We had talked about his life. We had talked about everything. He didn’t have any problems. He was a normal guy. I didn’t understand why he was being so nice to me.
I wanted to get this over with. He pulled over. He was looking at the map on his phone. I was trying to call the bookstore.
“Hi,” I began, “my name is Portia Willows. I’m a student. I was wondering if I gave a friend my student ID if he could buy the book for me.”
“Hang up. Hang up,” Ethan said.
“Uh, never mind, I guess.” I hung up and looked up at him, puzzled.
“Look, we can see the bookstore from here. It is a little bit of a walk but there’s not a lot of people around, see?”
“Uh-huh, but what if class lets out or something?”
“We’ll be in and out in five minutes. You know the book?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go.”
He got out. Holy shit. Is this really happening? He opened the door for me. I looked around. I took one foot out of the car. He reached out his hand to me.
“Grab it, it’s okay.” I took his hand. “Do you think you would feel more comfortable if my arm is around you?”
“Nice one. Let’s go.” I jokingly pushed him away and walked ahead of him. I was confident for all of two seconds. The quad didn’t seem too terrifying. It was extremely quiet. I heard the birds in the trees. I felt fine. I could do this. Where we had been before, though, was intense, a bunch of kids with backpacks walking the streets. It was near the hospital too, so there were crowds and crowds of people. I looked down and kept walking, all the way to the bookstore.
“How long have you been going here?”
“For about a year in a half. I came once with my grandma and I never looked back.” I opened the door. The noise almost knocked me down. No wonder no one was out there. Everyone was in this bookstore. I immediately turned around, but Ethan blocked me. He put a hand on each shoulder and turned me back around.
“Don’t leave me,” I cried. He put his arm around me, which I needed. I put my face into his chest. It was warm and comforting. I knew I would have a panic attack if he let go of me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered in my ear. “Do you know where the book is?”
“I think so.”
“Just focus on where you have to go, get it, walk to the cashier, and then out.” I felt his beard on my ear as he spoke.
“Okay.”
“Don’t make eye contact with anyone. Don’t look at anyone. Don’t worry about what anyone else is doing. I’m right here. We’re good.”
I found the aisle. I got the book, I stepped away from him. He looked at me and smiled.
“There’s a long line to check out,” he said.
“Can we stay in this empty aisle until the line goes down?”
He laughed. “I wish that was how lines worked.”
“I don’t do lines.”
“No one does lines. You don’t need a disorder to hate lines. If you want a couple minutes, that’s fine, but the line is not going to get shorter the longer you wait; it will only get longer.” He was right. I was the one who went to UCLA and he went to SMC.
I was acting like an idiot.
“Let’s just go. I wish we could steal this book. We should just make a run for it.”
He put his hands on my shoulder and massaged them gently. “You’re doing great,” he whispered.
Standing in line, my heart was pounding. I was just looking at everyone. Everyone was in this line—Asians, Caucasians, bla
ck people, Latinos. There was so much diversity in this one line. The whole world was like this. I’d been stuck in my room my entire life. This was what other people were used to. I saw my sister everywhere. Every girl who would talk to another girl reminded me of her.
“All these girls…Piper would have loved this school.”
“Can you imagine what Piper would say right now?”
“Let’s say she was at home and I was here and I called her, she would be screaming and jumping around the entire room. She had enough energy for the entire family. She sucked up all of our energy. She was so small and so free.” He was smiling. “Sorry, you’re probably so tired of hearing about Piper.”
“Never. I’m just glad I got you talking.”
“You got me waiting in line.”
He hugged me. I was scared at first. Then I was comfortable. For the first time I felt completely okay. I didn’t want him to let go—until it felt like everyone’s eyes were on us, like I was doing something wrong. I wiggled my arms, so he let go. I was looking down but I felt his eyes on me.
He was trying to figure me out.
As soon as we paid, I made a beeline for the car.
“Race ya?”
He started to run. I was pretty sure he let me win.
“You know how many people are staring at us right now?” He laughed.
“Because you’re so slow. Hurry, slowpoke. Get in the car.” We hopped in the car, laughing.
“Drive. Drive. Get the hell out of here. Oh my God,” I said, smiling. I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy. I couldn’t wait to tell my dad, but I also couldn’t wait to be back in my comfort zone. This was the craziest thing I’d ever done.
“Breathe. We did it.” He smiled at me.
“We did it. Thank you, I have no idea how to thank you, like, no idea.”
“Hang out with me again.”
I would have—should have—said no. He was too nice. He was too into me. There had to be something wrong, but I thought back to that hug while we were in line.
“Piper would have loved you. My dad is going to love you. What you did for me today is a really big deal. I hope you know that. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Remember Page 2
