Love, Life, and the List

by Kasie West

“No. That one isn’t for sale, actually.” I’d planned to give it to Cooper, and if this was just someone my dad had told to come in, I wasn’t about to let it go. Where was Cooper? I was worried about him. His parents were still out of town, and his sister had gone to a friend’s today. Was he at home burning up with a fever?

  “Oh. Okay. Someone beat me to it I guess,” the man said. He handed me his card. “If you ever paint another one featuring a quad, give me a call.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  He left and I paced, regardless of the blisters I now had on both feet. I paced and looked at the door. Before, I’d been begging time to slow down, and now I just wanted tonight to be over. My phone was buzzing. It rattled my bag on the chair behind the screen. At this point, I didn’t care what Mr. Wallace said. I pulled it out. Elliot’s name flashed across the screen and I furrowed my brow in confusion.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” It was Grandpa, and now I really was confused. “Thanks for sending Elliot, but she can’t do it. Take lots of pictures for us.”

  “Elliot’s there?” I whispered back.

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t talk Mom into coming?”

  “I’ve tried and it’s not working.”

  “Then you come.”

  “Abby, I can’t leave your mom like this. She’s a mess now.”

  “What?” I asked in disbelief. “She doesn’t want you to come either?”

  “It’s not that she doesn’t want me to come—”

  “Is she telling you to come?”

  “I don’t think I should leave her like this.”

  “Okay,” I snapped and hung up the phone, angry tears stinging my eyes.

  I didn’t take pictures. They could see all the paintings when I got home. They would all still be mine.

  Cooper, are you okay? I tried one last time.

  My phone said five minutes left. Five minutes. I counted to one hundred, then one hundred again and again, until Mr. Wallace stood by the door, saying good-bye to the last guest. Then as quickly as possible, I cleaned up my station, making several trips out to the car to store my paintings.

  “Abby,” Mr. Wallace called as I passed him with my last armload.

  “I can’t talk right now!” I answered over my shoulder. “I have to go. Emergency.” I didn’t look to see his face. I knew it would register disappointment.

  At the car I took off my heels and threw them behind the driver’s seat. My paintings were tucked away in the back. I started the car, my hands shaking. I made it to Cooper’s in record time. His house was dark. I parked across the street.

  First I rang the doorbell. I didn’t wait long before I was at his window though. “Cooper! Are you okay?”

  I pried it open like I had before and climbed in. His room was pitch-black. I clicked on his desk lamp to see his bed was empty. I tore through the rest of his house, even checking his parents’ room. There was nobody there. The worry that had driven me to his house melted first into relief and then into anger. If he wasn’t here, where was he?

  I could wait. I sat on his bed. It smelled like him, so I moved to the floor by the window. Ten thirty came and went. Then eleven. My phone buzzed.

  The text was from Grandpa: Are you still at the museum?

  No. Out. I’ll be home late.

  Avoiding them right now felt like the best way to punish them. I knew I shouldn’t have been mad at my mom. She had an illness. One I realized now that she obviously needed help for. But my brain and my emotions weren’t playing well together. Because I was mad. I was mad at everyone really. Cooper, obviously. Grandpa, for not being able to talk Mom into coming and then not coming himself when he couldn’t. Dad, for forcing it to happen at all when I hadn’t earned it. I leaned my head back, letting it hit the wall. That sent a painful jolt through my already aching head. I rubbed my temples and thought about getting some aspirin from the medicine cabinet in Cooper’s bathroom but couldn’t find the energy to stand.

  I hadn’t shut the window all the way, and a slight breeze played with my hair. I wondered if I should call the police. Had Cooper gotten in an accident? My mind wanted him to have a really good excuse for tonight. He would have a really good excuse.

  My mind was also conjuring up something I had tried my hardest not to think about. But all that hurt I had pushed deep down inside me was rising to the surface as this new hurt filled me up.

  Last year. The fateful night on the beach. Cooper and I had been hanging out after celebrating his one millionth win. Justin and Rachel hadn’t been able to make it to the after-party for one reason or another. But it didn’t matter. Cooper was high on life and his smile felt like the center of mine. I had realized, quite suddenly in that moment, that I lived for his smile. That every time I saw it, my own smile couldn’t help but appear. And I knew then and there that I’d do anything to see it. Happiness bubbled in my chest all fizzy and intoxicating. “We’re good together,” I’d said.

  He’d met my stare, and his smile slowly fell away. I thought it had been because he was recognizing the seriousness of the moment, of what I was about to say, so I’d barreled forward. “I think I love you.”

  His expression went darker, and then I knew. He didn’t feel the same way.

  He’d punched my shoulder playfully and said, “You too, you’re a great friend.”

  I hoped the dark night hid my red cheeks. I managed to keep the sting in my eyes from turning into tears and I forced myself to laugh. “You should see your face right now. Did you think I meant as more than a friend?”

  His face went from horror to levity faster than I’d finished the sentence. He laughed too and let it go as easy as that.

  I was pulled out of last year’s memory by a car door shutting out front, followed by laughter. It was crystal clear through the open window.

  “I had fun today,” Cooper said. “Thanks for the surprise.”

  “Of course.” That was Iris. “Thanks for coming so last-minute. I’m sorry about your phone.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll try the rice thing.”

  Cooper must’ve started walking away because Iris said, “Hey! Don’t I get a hug or anything?” There was a pause and then a squeal. Obviously Cooper had picked her up in a hug. I forced myself not to cry. I was too mad. I couldn’t let hurt take over.

  When her car drove away, I stood up and tugged down the bottom of my dress. Why was I still here? I could just climb back out the window and confront him the next day, when my emotions were more reined in. I didn’t.

  Cooper walked into his room and flipped on the overhead light. Then he let out a startled yell followed by a laugh. “You scared me.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Did you miss me?” He took in my dress. “Wow. You look hot. Did you have a date tonight?”

  Was he really asking that? He forgot? “No. I had that whole art show thing. Nothing big.”

  His smile slid off his face and his brows went down. “No, that’s tomorrow.”

  “Really? Huh. I guess nobody told all the artists and guests who showed up tonight.” My voice was like ice.

  “You said it was on the twenty-first.”

  “Today is the twenty-first, Cooper.”

  “No, it’s the twentieth, right? Saturday?”

  I snorted out an insincere laugh. I wanted to rip down all the pictures from his wall and shred them to pieces because the anger throbbing in my chest was so intense.

  He shook his head. “Is it really Sunday? I’m a total jerk. My phone fell into a tide pool today. It’s completely busted. You haven’t been texting me at all this week. I’m not used to zero reminders about things.”

  He was blaming this on me? Something washed over me. It started at my scalp and poured down my body in a numbing wave. It wasn’t exactly peace, but it was acceptance. Resolution, maybe. “I’m done,” I said, and I found that I truly meant it.

  “I must’ve lost a day when I was sick,” he continued, without acknowledging wha
t I’d said. “It’s summer. The days all blend together. Plus, I think Iris said it was Saturday this morning. She must’ve been confused too.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she was so confused.”

  “Why was that dripping sarcasm?”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “No reason, Cooper. I’m done.”

  “What does that mean? Why do you keep saying that?”

  “This one-sided thing isn’t working. I can’t do it anymore. Have a good life.” I either had to climb out the window and look like a major buffoon with my short dress riding up to my waist or walk by him out the door he was still blocking and maintain my resolve.

  I sensed it deep in my chest. I could walk by him.

  He didn’t move when I reached the door. I looked up at him. His eyes were pained. It cracked my heart a little more.

  “I’m sorry, Abby. Please don’t walk away like this. Let me make it up to you.” This was the Cooper that could normally get me to do anything. His pleading eyes, his charming smile, his persuasive voice. It didn’t work this time.

  “Cooper. Move.”

  “Abby, please don’t leave like this. How was the show? Does your mom hate me for not picking her up?”

  “She didn’t come.”

  He pushed his fingers against his closed eyes. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. I’m a huge jerk. The biggest one in existence.”

  “Move,” I growled.

  He reached out for my hand and I yanked it away violently. He wasn’t used to that from me, I could see it in his surprised expression. I didn’t ask him to move again. I pushed him aside and fled.

  I made it to my car and drove down the block before I let the tears come. And they came.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Mom and Grandpa were waiting up for me when I got home. Mom was a mess. Her eyes were puffy, her makeup washed away. I didn’t want to hear another round of apologies. It didn’t seem to matter what I wanted tonight, because apologies were what I got.

  She collapsed on me, her hands around my shoulders, her face in my neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this tonight.” I pushed her off. I never pushed her away, and now anger and guilt pressed against my chest so hard that I couldn’t breathe.

  Mom let out a sob.

  “You need help,” I spit out.

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “I need to go to bed.” I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. I really just needed to get out of this room before I said more things that I could never take back. I whirled around and stormed down the hall.

  Grandpa, who hadn’t said a word, followed after me.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Do you need to talk about it?” His voice was calm, like that would make this all okay.

  “I need to be left alone.”

  “You’re mad.”

  “Yes, I’m mad!”

  “You should be. I would be.”

  “Good. Because I am.”

  “I’m sorry she couldn’t make it.”

  “I’m mad at you, Grandpa! You!”

  “I couldn’t leave her.”

  “Really? Really? That’s the excuse you’re going with? You. The one who’s always trying to push her to do more. This time it was too much?”

  “I’d never seen her quite this bad, Abby.”

  “Then maybe you could’ve asked Elliot to stay with her. Maybe you could’ve left her for just thirty minutes and come and shown me some support! This was an important night, and it’s like you didn’t even care about me.”

  “I care about you. You know that.”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t show it! Now please get out of my room.” I knew half of this tirade was for Cooper, but at least half of it was for my grandpa too, so I didn’t call him back when he lowered his head and left.

  Somehow yelling at him didn’t make me feel any better. My head was pounding, and my eyes felt like they were on fire.

  I should’ve waited until I had calmed down to send an email to my dad. But he deserved some of this anger too. The email was short, but true to how I felt.

  Dad, never ever lie or bully someone into including your daughter in anything again. Let her earn her own achievements.

  I hit Send and closed my laptop. Then I went to my bathroom, downed two aspirin, and crawled into bed.

  My phone woke me the next morning with lots of buzzing. I sat up. I’d slept in my clothes and makeup. My eyelashes felt clumpy. I looked at my phone. There were exactly thirty-two texts from Cooper. Guess he’d fixed his phone somehow. Most of them were just the words I’m sorry over and over and over again. I had a text from Lacey as well: You didn’t send me a report. That must mean it went exceptionally well.

  I groaned and got out of bed. I took a long and very hot shower. My skin was red and splotchy when I climbed out. In the twenty minutes I’d been in the bathroom Cooper had sent five more texts. I ignored those as well.

  There was no reply to the email I’d written my dad. It wasn’t like he had time to just sit around checking his email. I knew it might take a few days. I hoped I didn’t regret sending it by then.

  I steeled myself and went out to the kitchen. Grandpa sat at the table. I looked around but didn’t see my mom anywhere.

  “She’s still sleeping. She had an emotional night.”

  “Didn’t we all,” I mumbled.

  “Can we talk about it?”

  “Not yet, Grandpa, please not yet.” I felt dizzy and leaned against the counter.

  “Can you at least tell me if Cooper is okay? I was worried last night when he didn’t show up.”

  “I never want to talk about Cooper again.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “No. Really. I’m done with Cooper. Forever.” I knew this was my emotions speaking. If it had been Rachel or Justin, I would’ve been mad at them for a few days and moved on. But it wasn’t Rachel or Justin. It was Cooper. The guy I loved. And that love was now making forgiveness feel impossible.

  “That’s . . . um . . . forever?” Grandpa asked.

  My headache was back and my head throbbed. Grandpa narrowed his eyes at me, then reached forward and felt my head.

  “You’re burning up.”

  “Cooper,” I growled.

  “I don’t think heartbreak causes fevers,” Grandpa said.

  “No. He was sick.” On top of everything he gave me his bug. Grandpa dug some medicine out of the cupboard, and I took it and went back to bed.

  Cooper called and texted all day long. I had to turn off my phone at one point.

  Mom hovered in my doorway later that day. “How are you feeling?” She stared at me with a pained expression that I knew had nothing to do with my illness and everything to do with her guilt.

  “Not great.”

  “Can you give me a play-by-play of the night?” she asked.

  “No. I can’t. I feel like I’ve enabled you for a long time,” I said. This was something I’d been thinking about since the night before too. “And I’m not up for talking right now.”

  “Grandpa told me about Cooper.”

  “Of course he did.”

  She pretended not to hear me. “You have a big heart, Abby. I know you’ll get through this.”

  I felt like I had no heart at the moment. Like a certain someone had ripped it out and eaten it. Okay, maybe he hadn’t eaten it, but he fed it to some rabid dogs or something. Last night, I had been prepared to hand him my heart. I was going to put myself out there again. And this time, he didn’t even show up at all, not even as a friend. He was supposed to be my best friend, but a best friend wouldn’t have dropped the ball on such an important night for me. I wasn’t sure what hurt more—realizing I really lost the guy I loved or realizing I lost my best friend. Probably the second.

  Mom left me alone, and I stared at the walls of my room. My phone lay on the nightstand next to me, full of unanswered texts from Cooper. I needed a distraction. I texted Lacey: Worst night ever.


  My phone rang and I thought I was going to have to avoid another Cooper call, but it was Lacey. I picked it up. “When do you get back?” was how I answered.

  “In two days.”

  “I hope I last until then.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  And I did.

  The next day and fifty-four more unanswered texts from Cooper, I was sitting on the floor in my room wielding a pair of unruly knitting needles I had bought, when Grandpa knocked on my open door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened wider with a squeak. “Hey, you feeling better?”

  “Physically? Yes.” I could tell my fever was gone and the headache I’d had for the last couple of days was gone with it. But anger still glowed in my chest like an evil that needed to be exorcised.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m working on the last four items on my list.” I held up the yarn and needles. Lance had made this look so easy, but it wasn’t. “Well, three, technically, since the reciprocated-love thing isn’t happening anytime soon.”

  “The heart list? I thought that was only for the art show.”

  “No. It was to improve my painting, and that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Of course it did. You got into the show.”

  “Dad wrote Mr. Wallace. It’s why he let me display my paintings.”

  He cringed. “Sorry, kid.”

  If I never heard the word sorry again it would be too soon.

  Grandpa moved to where my list hung on my wall. “Is there something on the list about lopsided knitting?”

  My phone buzzed from the ground next to me. I looked at the screen.

  Abby, please. Talk to me.

  I growled and flipped it over.

  “Did you need anything else?” I asked Grandpa curtly.

  “Nope.” And with that, he left my room.

  Yes, I definitely needed a good exorcism.

  THIRTY-THREE

  It was Saturday and officially the longest I’d ever gone without seeing Cooper in over a year. Six days. That number bounced around in my head as I ate breakfast. As I brushed my teeth. As I powered on my computer. Other numbers were in my head too. Like ten. That was how many voice mails Cooper had left me in six days. I’d listened to the first two, but when I realized they were just repeats of the night in his room—I’m sorry I mixed up my days, I’m a jerk, please forgive me—I started deleting them right when I saw them. Two hundred and eleven . . . and counting. That was the number of texts he’d sent. Three. The number of times he’d shown up at my door and my grandpa sent him away. Twenty-three. The number of days it had been since I’d painted anything. And I still didn’t feel like picking up a brush or going into the museum. Four. The number of times I’d called in sick this week to work. I didn’t want to face Mr. Wallace. What was I going to tell him about my horrible behavior that night?