Far From the Tree

by Robin Benway

  “Are you going to go to counseling?” Lauren asked. From the floor, she sounded very far away.

  “Fuck no,” Maya said. “Mom’s the one with the problem. She can use her own precious time to sort it out.”

  Lauren was quiet for another long minute before she said, “How come you’re always home right now?”

  “What?” Maya shut her textbook and went back to her workbook. Why couldn’t they put all the information in one book, instead of making you need at least three for each class?

  “Where’s Claire?”

  Maya ignored the dull pain that shot up her spine whenever someone mentioned Claire. “We broke up.”

  “What?” Lauren sounded scandalized. “Why? I thought you two were totally in love with each other.”

  “Were. Past tense. Love is fleeting, things change, et cetera.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we had a fight and we both said mean things to each other.” Maya left out the part where she was mostly the one who said mean things, and Claire was mostly the one who said the truth.

  “Well, that’s stupid,” Lauren said. “You two were really cute together.”

  “Yeah, Grace and Joaquin already told me that I’m being an idiot. You don’t need to tell me, too, okay?”

  There was a pause from the floor before Lauren said, “Grace and Joaquin? You told them?”

  “Of course I told them. When they were here the other day, after you left to go to your friend’s house.”

  “I thought you were only talking about Mom, though.”

  “We talked about a lot of things, okay? For example, the fact that Grace thinks that we should find our biological mom.”

  Maya had been trying to steer the conversation away from Claire, from how bad it felt to even say her name, the dullest grays and blacks that her mind could ever envision, plumes of choking smoke left over after a fireworks show. But judging from Lauren’s silence on the floor, she had sent the conversation down the wrong road entirely.

  “What, so you’re just going to abandon your family now?”

  “What?” Maya looked up from her physics homework. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mom goes to rehab and you decide to swap her out for a new model? Is that what you’re doing with Grace, too? We’re too much trouble, so you decide to find something better?”

  “Lauren, what the hell are you—”

  “Never mind.” Lauren stood up, gathering her computer and books in such a hurry that one of her notebooks fell to the floor. Maya started to reach for it, but Lauren stepped in front of her, blocking Maya with her back. “Leave it alone,” she said.

  “You’re in my room,” Maya pointed out. “I’d be happy to leave you alone, but you’re the one who needs to leave, not me.”

  Lauren had always been like this, explosive as a toddler, screaming tantrums when she didn’t get her way. “It’s that redheaded gene,” her parents had explained, dragging her out of restaurants, movie theaters, bookstores, leaving Maya, the one thing that was not like the others, with a smile on her face and as the unexpected recipient of double the popcorn, ice cream, and books.

  But when Lauren stormed out, Maya realized that she hadn’t left anything behind, and what used to feel like a victory now felt like a sad, hollow loss.

  It was Thursday before Claire finally cut Maya off on her way to history class.

  “Um, excuse me,” Maya said. “You’re making me late.”

  That’s not what she had been planning to say to Claire, of course. Maya had thought of a thousand different things to say to her: apologies and confessions, tears and mea culpas, detailed explanations of how stupid Maya could be, how stubborn she was.

  But then she saw Claire and the hurt bubbled over, taking over all the smart things she wanted to see in a jealous, green-fueled fury.

  “How come you didn’t tell me your mom was in rehab?”

  Maya went still. Nobody was supposed to know about that. Did everyone know? Was everyone at school watching her, judging her? “How—what? How did you—”

  Claire held up her phone. She was taller than Maya, but for the first time, her height felt intimidating instead of safe. “Because Lauren texted me, that’s why. Your little sister was the one who had to tell me.”

  Maya felt herself regroup, her insides steadying themselves against the nervous sloshing feeling in her stomach. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Maya tried to step around her, but Claire stepped in time with her, blocking her path. “You and me are going to talk. Right now.”

  “I have class.”

  “Oh, suddenly you’re a perfect student who never ditches? Nice try. Let’s go.”

  Maya stumbled after her, following Claire past the gymnasium and the theater that everyone referred to as Little Theater, even though it was the only one on campus and pretty sizable. Finally they were back on the same spot of grass that Maya had always thought of as theirs. It seemed strange that the grass still looked so green and lush, even though they had broken up.

  “Okay,” Claire said. The late bell had already rung and the school felt strangely empty, like they were the only two people left on campus. If this were a TV show, Maya thought to herself, this would be when the zombie invasion started. “Spill it.”

  “Spill what?” Maya asked, deliberately not looking at Claire. “You already know everything.”

  “I know one basic fact, that’s it.” Claire’s face suddenly softened, and she put her hands on Maya’s shoulders. “My,” she said, and her voice was so quiet that it hurt Maya more than if she had been shouting. “What happened? Lauren said she was in the hospital. She said that you rode in the ambulance.”

  Maya gnawed on her lower lip, looking everywhere but at Claire. “She hit her head, that’s all. She had a concussion. And then my dad took her to rehab in Palm Springs and moved back in with us.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Claire’s hands were moving her hair back from her shoulders now, and Maya couldn’t tell if she wanted to step closer to her or run away and never look back. She felt so exposed, and they weren’t even her secrets. They were her mother’s, for fuck’s sake.

  “Because we broke up,” Maya said, trying her best to put the perfect “duh” tone in her voice.

  Claire sighed in a way that made her sound like a disappointed parent. “Maya, seriously? You think everything has to just stop? We had a fight. Why does that mean it has to be over?”

  Maya found herself thinking about Joaquin and Birdie, how Joaquin had said that he and Maya had the same dysfunction. For all the times that Maya had thought about her biological family, she had wondered whether or not they looked alike, if they had the same laugh or smile or double-jointed thumbs. She never thought they’d share the same stupid breakup stories.

  “I don’t want to talk about this,” Maya said, trying to step around Claire again. “I’m serious, Claire. I need to go to class.”

  “Lauren also said that you were going to look for your biological mom.”

  “She what?” Maya had been a step away, but she whirled around, red like a wound exploding, sending blood straight into the sky. “Look,” she said, “let’s get one thing straight. I don’t need you and my little sister gossiping about me, okay? If you want to know something, you can ask me—”

  “No, I can’t, Maya!” Claire shouted back. “That’s the problem! You keep everything from me! You didn’t tell me about your mom, you never talked to me about finding your brother and sister, and now you want to find your bio mom and you don’t even bring it up, not even once?”

  “If I wanted to talk about it, I would!”

  “I don’t believe you! I think you’ve been keeping your mom’s secrets and now her secrets are starting to ruin your life.”

  Maya was shaking, literally trembling with the force of her anger. But was it anger? Was this what it felt like to be truly angry, or was it something bigger, more comp
licated? Was this what it felt like to be exposed, for all of her private thoughts to be laid bare in front of the one person who she had wanted to be perfect for?

  “Stop texting with my sister,” Maya said instead, her teeth gritted so tight that her jaw pulsed a little. “I mean it!”

  And then she turned and started walking toward her class. “Maya!” Claire yelled after her, but Maya hugged her bag tighter and started to run. It felt good to move, to have her lungs ache and her chest heave. She wanted the pain to match how she felt.

  She wanted it to hurt.

  The next Sunday, when Maya met with Grace and Joaquin, everybody was cranky.

  One look at Grace’s straw pretty much told Maya that she was not in a good way. Maya had no idea how she could drink out of it without cutting up her mouth. “Have you thought about maybe just sipping straight from the cup?” Maya asked at one point.

  Grace glared at her, then glanced over her shoulder. They were at a Starbucks at the outdoor mall near Grace’s house, sitting out on the patio, and Grace looked like she was waiting for a sniper to take her out. Just watching her made Maya feel edgy. “God, Grace,” she said at one point. “No one’s out to get you.”

  Grace huffed out a laugh that made Maya wonder if her sister perhaps had Mob ties.

  Joaquin just looked sullen, his eyes heavy. Not that he was the most talkative person, of course, but Maya was used to a little more, especially after last weekend, when they had talked about things that were actually important. “So,” she said after nearly a minute of complete silence. “My mom went to rehab.”

  “That’s great,” Grace said.

  “Really good,” Joaquin agreed.

  “And my dad moved back in with us,” Maya continued.

  “Really great,” Joaquin said.

  “That’s good you have him,” Grace added. “Really good.”

  Maya narrowed her eyes a bit. “And my sister, Lauren? She finally got approval for the surgery to remove those horns from her forehead.”

  “Awesome,” Grace said, glancing past Joaquin’s shoulder.

  “Wait, what?” Joaquin said. “Your sister’s having surgery?”

  “Finally,” Maya sighed. “You two are zombies, you know that? You’re both being so weird.”

  “Sorry,” Grace said. “I just . . . I really hate this mall, that’s all.”

  “And I’m actually a zombie,” Joaquin replied. “My secret is out, I guess. God, I feel so much lighter.” He took a deep breath and sighed it out, which made both Grace and Maya laugh despite themselves.

  “You’re so bizarre,” Maya said.

  Joaquin just pointed at himself. “I told you. Zombie.”

  “That explains the rotting flesh smell,” Maya replied, then ducked when Joaquin threw a napkin at her.

  Grace, however, had just gone still next to them. “The zombie’s definitely going to eat you first,” Maya said to her, giving her a nudge.

  “Shut up,” Grace just whispered in response, looking past Joaquin’s shoulder, and Joaquin turned to see what had her attention.

  There were two boys coming into the Starbucks, and from the looks of it, they knew who Grace was. They were snickering between them, and then one of them said something to the other and they both burst into laughter before fist-bumping each other.

  “Do you know those frat-boy wannabes?” Maya said. She herself had zero patience for dudes who wore their baseball caps backward and always talked about “getting girls,” even though Maya was pretty sure that they had never even touched one.

  “I think we should go,” Grace said.

  “Wait, Grace,” Joaquin said, sitting up a little. “Are you shaking?”

  “Hey, Grace.”

  Now the boys were standing next to their table. It was almost empty on the patio outside, just a few older people sipping teas in the far corner, and their voices sounded loud. “New boyfriend?” one of them asked. He was tall and skinny and made Maya very glad that she had been born a lesbian.

  “Just go away, Adam, okay?”

  “What’s up? You just hanging out?” Adam looked like the cat that had caught the canary.

  “You move pretty fast,” the other guy said. “You and Max just broke up, right?”

  “Grace,” Maya said slowly. “Let’s just go, okay?”

  Across from them, Joaquin was sitting up very straight. Maya had never seen him look so alert before, and it didn’t make her feel any better about the situation.

  “So you tell your new guy about what you were up to in the last year?” Adam said, and his smile reminded Maya of the Cheshire Cat’s, too big to be sincere, a crescent moon too sharp at the edges. “All your big . . . changes?”

  Grace started to stand up, shoving her chair back so hard that it crashed into the table behind them. That just seemed to make the boys laugh, though, and before Maya or Joaquin could do anything, Adam leaned forward and said, “Does he know what a slut you are? Or is that what he likes best about you?”

  Maya was about to do something, say something, anything to release the pressure that she felt exploding in her chest, when suddenly Joaquin was up and moving so fast that no one saw him coming. In one smooth motion, he had Adam up against the wall, his forearm pressed across his chest, and Adam looked wide-eyed and scared, a fish out of water.

  “Listen, you asshole,” Joaquin hissed, and now Maya was standing up next to Grace, hanging on to her arm. “That’s my sister, okay! You think it’s cool to talk to my sister like that? Do you?!” Adam didn’t say anything. Maya felt the pressure in her chest go straight into her heart, bursting with a sudden, vicious love for him.

  “Joaquin,” Grace started to say, but it sounded like her voice had died in her throat.

  “No!” Adam yelped. His hat had tumbled off in the fracas, and now he just looked like a little kid. “No, man! I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t even know she had a brother!”

  “You talk to her again, you even think of looking at her again”—Joaquin pressed his arm harder across Adam’s chest, sliding it up toward his throat—“and you’re going to have to talk to me. You got that?”

  Adam nodded nervously, his pupils dilated. Next to him, his friend was standing silent.

  So was Grace.

  “Now get the fuck out of here,” Joaquin said, and Maya thought it was more of a growl, a bear on the attack. “If I see you again, you and me, we’re going to have problems.”

  Adam nodded again, and Joaquin gave him one final press before locking eyes with him, then letting him go. He and his friend scurried away as Joaquin seemed to slump, all his bravado slinking away and leaving him like a shell.

  “Joaquin,” Grace said. She was panting now. So was Joaquin.

  “Joaquin,” Maya said when he didn’t answer.

  “I—I’m sorry,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps, and then suddenly he was leaving the patio, running down the street, sprinting away from them, trying to escape.

  JOAQUIN

  Joaquin thought that he was going to be sick.

  He wasn’t quite sure what had happened. One minute, he had been sitting with Maya and Grace, thinking about Mark and Linda, and then that fucking weasel had come up to Grace, had make her shake in her shoes, had called her a slut, and Joaquin felt himself slip into that white-hot space that he had spent years trying to avoid.

  He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to feel that kid’s pulse beating fast against his arm, his breath short, his eyes blown wide open. It was a powerful thing to literally hold someone’s fate in your hand, and Joaquin hadn’t had that sort of power in a long time.

  The problem with power, though, is that having it doesn’t always make you a good person. Sometimes, it makes you the bad guy.

  Joaquin ran until he hit the edge of the park that bordered the mall, one that was usually used only by toddlers and their attentive parents, and it wasn’t until he stopped that he realized his sisters were hot on his trail. “Joaquin!” they were shouti
ng, dashing after him. “Joaquin, wait!”

  Joaquin turned, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He hadn’t run like that in a long time. He felt as if he could keep running forever. “Just—go away, okay?” he said to his sisters, holding out his hand as if to keep them at bay. “I’m sorry, I ruined our day.”

  “You’re shaking,” Grace told him. She was still trembling, too. Maya was the only one who seemed steady, her eyes wild and alive. “You should sit down.”

  “I’m fine,” Joaquin spat out. “I just got upset, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

  Grace just shook her head at him. “I’m not,” she said. “He deserved it.”

  “Joaquin.” Now Maya was stepping toward him. “Let’s go sit down at least, okay? You don’t look good.”

  Joaquin didn’t feel that great, either. “Okay,” he said.

  “Okay,” Maya said, holding out her hand to him. “Let’s sit. Sitting is great. Everyone likes sitting, even active people. Do you run competitively or something? Because you were hauling ass across the parking lot. I think you outran a Tesla at one point.”

  Somewhere in the back of his brain, where it was fuzzy with memories, Joaquin remembered Maya saying that she talked a lot when she was nervous. He had made her nervous, Joaquin realized, and that only made him feel worse.

  By the time the three of them sat down on a bench, Joaquin bookended by his two sisters, his breath was starting to come back a little. Grace still looked pretty shaky, though, and Joaquin noticed that she kept her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

  “Okay,” Maya said as soon as they were settled. “What the hell was that?”

  “He called Grace a slut,” Joaquin said. He could barely get his voice above a murmur. “He shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, I don’t mean that,” Maya said. “I mean the sprint across the parking lot, Joaq. You ran like a scared rabbit.”

  That wasn’t exactly the image that Joaquin had of himself, but maybe Maya was right. He had never seen himself run, after all.

  When he didn’t say anything, Grace unclenched her hands and reached over to take one of Joaquin’s. “Joaquin,” she said quietly. “What happened?”