Echoes Between Us

by Katie McGarry

  Movement over her shoulder, outside of the car, and my gaze snaps and narrows on the figures on the steps of the porch. Veronica turns her head to look, and she gasps. “No way.”

  A click of the door handle and she darts out of the car then shoots across the yard. My gut twists as I watch as Leo Wheeling lazily drops one foot then another down the steps of the porch. He wears a satisfied smirk as he wraps his arms around Veronica.

  He hugs her, she hugs him, and jealousy taints my soul. At a deliberate and methodical snail’s pace, I leave the car, walk up the yard and make direct eye contact with the two other guys on the porch. One is Jesse Lachlin, the other, Nazareth Kravitz. Jesse leans against the support beam, Nazareth sits on the top step. Neither of them are the type to glance away. Lucky me. Guess the three of us will have a nice staring contest for as long as it takes because I’m not giving in.

  “What are you doing here?” Veronica says as she pulls back from Wheeling, and I hate that she acts as if it’s Christmas.

  Lachlin disapprovingly looks to Veronica, and so does Kravitz. That makes me curious. Which one of us are they unhappy about? Me or Wheeling? And if it’s Wheeling, why? The four of them have been friends for nearly as long as I’ve lived in this town.

  “I was bored and thought about how much I missed hanging with you so I drove home.” Wheeling touches her, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair, and I want to sock the cocky bastard in the stomach. But I won’t because she’s glowing.

  Here’s the sad thing, I have no reason to hate him—other than he just interrupted the best night I’ve had in months. Can’t explain what I’m feeling right now because I don’t do relationships, but I do know that I like Veronica and this guy is getting in the way of my time with her.

  “I didn’t think I’d have to wait a few hours to see you, though,” Wheeling says.

  “We were working on our project, and I turned off my cell to make sure it didn’t interfere with anything.”

  “Good thing you did, too,” I speak for the first time. Wheeling glares in my direction, and he’s as happy to see me as I am to see him. “Otherwise you would have been pissed if your cell rang as you talked to the ghosts.”

  I get what I want, Veronica’s smile in my direction. “You’re right. That would have made me angry. By the way, Sawyer, this is Leo. Leo, this is—”

  “I know who he is.”

  Yeah, I’m sure he does. We know a few people in common. He even dated a few friends of mine. No one has a bad word to say about him other than he chooses to hang with this group over anyone else. I used to think that was a bad thing, but after spending time with Veronica, I’m understanding I need to reevaluate a few things about life.

  “Play nice, Leo,” Veronica mutters under her breath, and the ticked-off glare she gives him gives me a fantastic high.

  “Text me when you want to go over that recording, Veronica,” I say. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.” She didn’t kiss me tonight, maybe she’ll never kiss me, but unlike him, I’ll see her Monday and each day after that. And Wheeling? He’ll head back to college.

  From over Veronica’s head, Wheeling’s eyes flicker with rage and I can’t help the smirk as I jog up the stairs.

  I go inside, unlock the door to my apartment, flick on the living room light and my high takes a nosedive. A curse word leaves my mouth as I spot the television on, a corkscrew on the coffee table, two bottles of wine and a lipstick-stained glass that contains a backwash amount of red liquid. On the couch, Mom is a passed-out and snoring lump.

  She’s in her white silk dress shirt and black dress pants with high heels off. Hair falls out of her slicked-back bun and her mascara is smudged. I pick up one of the bottles, shake it and it’s empty. The other one is empty as well.

  “Great,” I say under my breath.

  Mom’s eyes open. They’re bloodshot and it takes a moment before there’s a glimmer of recognition. “Sawyer?”

  Her voice grates against the ashes of my good mood and a muscle in my jaw twitches. “Rough day?”

  Mom either doesn’t catch on or ignores my sarcasm as she struggles to sit up. Seeing her such a mess creates a sickening shame. She doesn’t look like the top salesperson in the state, but like a damn broken bobblehead.

  “Tell me if you’re going to get sick,” I snap, “because it will really piss me off if I have to clean the couch.”

  Mom successfully sits, but when she goes to stand, she tumbles like a tree that’s been chainsawed at the base—headfirst and aiming for the corner of the coffee table. I snatch her before her skull collides with the wood, and as she goes limp, I swing her up in my arms.

  She mumbles incoherently as I carry her to her room. Something about how she loves me, loves Lucy and she’s not that tired. But the only words I listen for when she single-handedly finishes multiple bottles of wine are “bathroom” and “vomit.”

  Mom holds on to my shirt as I lay her on her bed, and for someone who barely has control of her body, she has one hell of a grip.

  “Are you going to get sick?” I ask. “If so, you need to tell me now.”

  “Don’t be angry at me,” Mom slurs. “You’re like your dad that way. So angry.”

  “I’m not angry.” That’s a lie, but it’s easier than the truth.

  “You’re angry.”

  There’s no point in responding. It’s not like she’ll remember this conversation anyway. I spread a blanket over her, go to the bathroom and grab a couple of towels. I return to the room and lay them out for Mom.

  “Sawyer,” she croaks. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

  I hate being around her when she’s drunk. I hate the stench of alcohol breath, hate how she breathes out of her mouth, hate how her hands are clammy when she touches me, and hate the sound of her gags as she dry heaves.

  “Please,” she begs, and her voice breaks as she’s close to tears.

  I hate my life. I hate it when she cries, and I hate more that I love her.

  I slump to the floor, lean my back against the bed and Mom touches my head to confirm I’m there. It’s a light touch, but the weight of taking care of her suffocates me. I often wonder if this is why Dad left or if she’s like this because he did. I never ask because it doesn’t matter. This is my life, and knowing the answer won’t change my situation.

  I’m never falling in love. Besides Lucy, after I’m out of this house, I’m never taking care of anyone in my life ever again.

  VERONICA

  It’s two in the morning, and I’m sitting on the bottom branch of a tree on Jesse’s land. I point at Jesse as Nazareth, Leo and Jesse’s girlfriend, Scarlett, all clap and cheer at my success of making it six feet off the ground on my own. “You owe me twenty dollars, Lachlin.”

  Jesse shakes his head, but he’s smiling. We’re all smiling. That’s what happens when our family is all together again.

  “Forty dollars I can go higher than you,” Jesse says as he slips his arms around Scarlett from behind her. She leans back into him as if being that close to him is like returning home.

  “Sixty that Scarlett can beat us all,” I counter, and from the light of the bonfire that’s a safe distance from the tree I can see Jesse hang his head in defeat.

  “I’m game.” Scarlett kisses Jesse’s cheek then sprints for the trunk of the tree and jumps up, grabbing on to branches and climbing as if she were immune to gravity.

  “I didn’t take the bet,” Jesse calls, yet he chases after her, taking branches at such a speed that I’m in awe. It took me ten hard-earned minutes to make it to this branch, and they’re passing me like I’m a narcoleptic turtle on the interstate.

  Soon, Nazareth is making his way up. Leo, too, but I’m done tree climbing. I’d love to join them, but there’s a nasty spike of pain that’s been bothering me for the past hour and the most recent one caused a bout of double vision. Last thing I need is to be twenty feet in the air and get dizzy.

  I slip over the side of the b
ranch and fall to the ground, landing in a crouch. As I stand, I’m startled when Leo jumps from the branch I was on to land beside me.

  “You’re not going up?” he asks.

  I wink at him. “All the cool kids are on the ground.”

  “True.” Leo doesn’t say anything else, just stares at me as if he’s waiting on a witty response from me to keep our conversation going, but I don’t have one.

  I fiddle with my bracelet as I’m riddled with nerves. It’s not the good kind of nerves—the type that’s created by butterflies. No, it’s the sickening type. Leo left, he promised he’d keep in touch and then he practically dropped off the face of the planet.

  But he’s here now, looking at me as if there hasn’t been stone-cold silence between us for weeks. I’m angry, I’m hurt and, oddly enough, I’m thrilled to see him again. But more I’m scared. Yeah, tonight has been fun … as a group, but where he and I used to be inseparable, we’re now like magnets that repel, and I don’t like the feeling. It’s confusing and maddening.

  Leo surveys me and he doesn’t bother hiding his concern. “You okay?”

  “It’s been a long day, and I’m pretty beat.” Fantastic. Relying upon physical weakness to distract from the fact that being alone with him is creating pressure—that will help chill things between us.

  “Then let’s sit.” Leo inclines his head toward the bonfire and we walk back to it. Once there, I drop onto the blanket and sitting doesn’t help as Leo stands there watching me. Nope, this isn’t uncomfortable at all. Talk, V. Just talk.

  “I had homework, a shift at the Save Mart and then Sawyer and I went and investigated this haunted bridge north of Lexington.” I’m rambling now and can’t stop because this silence is awful. Dear God, send a lightning bolt and kill me. “I sat at the cliff of the river, the dirt gave way, I fell, but then Sawyer caught me and got us safely on this ledge, but then we couldn’t climb back up so we had to jump and—”

  “Wait.” Leo throws his hands in the air as he sits beside me. Not right beside me like the last time we were on a blanket together, but a safe foot away. “You don’t swim.”

  I don’t know why, but I smile. One that lights me up like I’m a firefly. “I know, but as I said, we couldn’t climb back up because the ground was unstable so Sawyer said it was safer to jump. At first, I was like, no way, but then Sawyer talked me through how we would jump and how he would help me in the water and he did. It was terrifying, yet pretty cool. Then we investigated the bridge. Do you think I’m too old for swim lessons?” I frown. “I’ve only seen little kids do it at the Y, but I think I’d like to try it. I mean, I totally kicked ass at floating.”

  Leo watches the bonfire, and I can’t quite decipher his expression. He picks up a stick then tosses it into the fire. “What’s up with you and Sutherland?”

  “I needed a senior thesis partner.” It’s the truth, but there’s a strange fluttering in my chest at the thought of seeing him again. Yeah, he’s hot and he’s super fun to hang out with, but what I wasn’t expecting was the sweetness … or the urge to kiss him.

  Leo draws up his knees and rests his arms on them. There’s that heavy silence again, and it’s smothering. Finally, Leo is the one to talk. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

  “What?” Even though I’m in full agreement.

  “Being gone. It’s weird.”

  “Weird good or weird bad?”

  “Both. I’m meeting tons of new people, and they make me different, and I have to be honest, I like it. But then I come home and see you and I want everything back to how it was. As I said, it’s weird.”

  Sludge enters my veins and my insides become gross and disgusting from the filth. “Oh.”

  “You know what I like about you, V?” Leo asks.

  Does he even notice how emotionally sick I sound? “What?” As if I’m distant—far away.

  “You never get down. I meet all these girls at school and after you talk to them for longer than five minutes they start into whatever problems they have. It’s like they have no idea how to have fun. I mean, you have this tumor in your head that causes you to be sick and could possibly kill you and you never get down.”

  Because that’s what I am to Leo—fun. Sometimes being fun all the time is exhausting.

  “Then the girls who aren’t all drama want to be serious after a few dates. Saying stuff like if I really like them, then I shouldn’t be talking to other girls. I wish more people were like you—I wish they lived in the moment instead of always worrying about the future.”

  The blood drains from my face. Dates. With an s. Multiple. Girls. Leo’s dating other girls. Not that he shouldn’t, but before he left he said maybe we could try, even if that maybe was for next year. I briefly close my eyes to hide the wince at how stupid I was to think maybe meant anything.

  “You and Sawyer looked like you were having fun when you pulled up,” he says.

  My face contorts as I have no idea how he could change the subject so fast. “What?”

  “When you and Sawyer pulled up in front of the house. You looked like you were having fun and then you guys looked … serious.” His voice dips with the word “serious.” Like it was a curse.

  My spine goes rigid. How is that his concern? Especially for a boy who is dating girls—with the emphasis on the s. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that looked a lot deeper and more intense than a senior thesis partner.”

  “What’s your problem with him?” My tone comes out fast and sharp.

  “I’ve told you my problem with him. He’s the type of guy who will be nice to your face and then talk crap about you behind your back.”

  “Maybe, but that’s my choice.”

  His eyes narrow on me like he’s mad. “And your choice is wrong.”

  “I never asked your opinion.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Is this how he wants to play this out? “Then that would require you to talk to me. Last text you sent was over a month ago.”

  “I could have gone to a party with friends tonight and I didn’t. I came home to see you, and when I do, you’re not even home.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry I’m not sitting at home waiting on you to show.”

  “You’re changing.”

  I blink. Multiple times. “I’m changing?”

  “Last year, you would have never hung out with someone like Sutherland and now you’re all about him. Throwing yourself at him across the seat.”

  “Excuse me?” Somehow, in that split second, something does change. I don’t know what it is exactly that changes, but it happens. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s one that feels a lot like that morbid feeling when you realize you forgot something important.

  Me. I forgot me, but it’s okay because now I’m remembering. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up.” But he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds like someone who opened up Pandora’s box and then got irritated that Pandora didn’t smile and nod like a good little girl when he didn’t like the contents of the box.

  “You did bring it up, so I guess you’re out of luck. I’m pretty sure that this is how our conversation has been going—you’re mad that last year I had three friends to hang out with at school and this year I have no one and that I took on an English thesis partner who, for some messed-up reason, you don’t like. What do you want me to do, Leo? Fail English? Be a hermit? Wait for you on the porch? And as for throwing myself at him, I hugged him. I didn’t have sex with him in the front seat. And as if it’s your business who I hug or screw because last I checked, I don’t have a boyfriend. And even if I did, I would never answer to him or to anyone!”

  “But you don’t have to be hanging out with Sutherland.” His voice drips pure venom.

  “What difference does it make if it’s him and why do you think you have a say? You left and dropped off the face of the earth except to pop back in at random to criticize my choice of project partner for
the year!”

  “So you chose him to get back at me for being busy?”

  “I chose him because he lives downstairs from me and he has a car. I’m going to ask again, what is your problem with him?”

  “Why do you keep defending him?” he shouts.

  “Because I like him!” I yell so loudly that my voice echoes across the open field.

  “Exactly,” he shouts. “And that’s why you’re changing!”

  We’re staring at each other, both of us breathing hard as if we’ve run a marathon. My exhaustion takes on a whole new level and consumes me. I rub my eyes and then my temples as I try to fight off the pounding now overtaking my brain. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  Leo’s posture deflates. “I don’t want to fight with you, either. That’s not why I came to see you.”

  There’s a few more beats of silence as I continue to rub my head.

  “I’m sorry, V,” Leo says like he’s torn up. But here’s the thing—I’m torn up, too. So much so that I swear bruises are forming all over my body. “I don’t know why I’m so angry.”

  “Then can you cool off about Sawyer?” I say. “He’s my partner for the year. That’s not going to change. I hear everything you’re saying about him. I’m not stupid. I know who he is and who his friends are and I’m well aware of the risks I’m taking. But I’m also telling you I’m a smart girl who can handle this situation. How about a little trust?”

  “I know what I saw,” Leo says. “You were going to kiss him, and he’s not the kind of guy you need to be kissing.”

  Sawyer was warm and solid and with him I felt good and I felt happy. Sawyer’s easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, making it easy to forget that there’s a ticking time bomb in my head. His hands were hot on my skin and I welcomed each and every touch, and I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to be kissed. I wanted to bask in the feeling I have with him—feeling alive.

  But then I saw Leo and I remembered … I’m supposed to be in love with him.

  “He doesn’t care for you,” Leo says.

  How many times did I wish Leo would be here beside me? But instead of making me feel alive and happy, he’s making me feel guilty and unlovable. “Maybe he does care for me.”