As everyone was packing to leave, Ulysses asked me to stay. He told Veronica to go out onto the front porch and Ulysses and I had a talk. More like him staring at me for an uncomfortable twenty minutes before finally saying, “Don’t hurt her.”
I received the message loud and clear: the man is going to kill me if I do. He never said the words. He never had to. It was all right there written in his death glare.
Glad I survived that round, I step out onto the front porch and Veronica glances up at me. “Your mom’s home and she called Lucy in. I told her you were helping Dad with some boxes.”
“Thanks.” I settle onto the step beside her. “Did you have a good time?”
“The best. You know, I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’m assuming that’s what we are now—a chill boyfriend/girlfriend. As in we kiss with none of the clingy drama.”
“We’re definitely boyfriend/girlfriend. If it helps, I’ve never had a girlfriend.”
Her eyes widen in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. I’ve never wanted to be in any type of relationship. Taking care of Lucy and Mom is enough responsibility for a lifetime. But this”—I take her hand and love how her breath catches with my touch—“I can handle.”
“Whatever.” Her smile is tempting and teasing. “It’s well known you’ve dated. Plus your kiss screams experience.”
“Dated. Mainly to get Mom and my friends off my back. And how far down the who-I’ve-kissed rabbit hole do you want to go?”
“Not far,” she admits.
Since she brought it up. “What about Leo? There were rumors at school you two were an on-again, off-again thing. I meant what I said. I’m good with a chill relationship, but I’m not into sharing people I kiss.”
Veronica nudges the ground with her shoe. “I was in love with Leo, for a long time, but I fell out of it. I don’t know when I fell out of it, but it happened. But even during that time, while we flirted around a relationship, we mainly stayed in the friend zone. And before you ask about kissing and Leo, ask yourself how far down that rabbit hole you want to go yourself.”
“Not far at all.”
“Good, but here’s the truth.” She takes her hand from mine and places her fingers to the side of her head to point out the problem. “He didn’t know how to see past the tumor. It was always there with him. He saw it all the time. He saw it before he saw me.”
Fear forms in her eyes—am I like Leo?
Naw, I’m nothing like him, and the honesty of the situation is I’m not much different from Veronica. She has a tumor in her brain that’s waiting to grow out of control. I have this addiction in my blood that can set me off, cause me to go over that ledge and end up impaled by sharp rocks. If I don’t get this under control, my life span could be shorter than most. The miracle here is that she cares for me.
To calm her anxiety, I take her hand that’s pointed at her head, link her fingers with mine and lay them on our knees. I lean toward her and brush my lips to hers.
Her breathing hitches, and with the brief taste of her, my heart beats faster. Knowing that my mom could walk out, that her father could storm out, I pull back, yet rest my forehead against hers. “All I see is you.”
She exhales as if relieved. I kiss her forehead, and reluctantly pull away, but keep her fingers laced with mine. The happiness of being with her fades as my own fears fester in my gut. “I need to talk to you.”
Veronica studies my face. “You don’t need to. Not if you don’t want. I’m fine with how things are between us.”
I let go of her and scrub my face with my hands.
“You’re allowed to have your secrets,” she whispers. “Just like I’m allowed to have mine.”
She’s right, but Knox and I talked and I need to start being honest. With myself, with her, with so many areas of my life, and that’s not easy. I could start with Mom or Sylvia or Miguel, but it’s not them I want to be honest with. It’s her. It’s because she’s one of the few good things I like in my life. The one thing that purely belongs to my choices and not anyone else’s. If I tell her and it messes things up, then it does, but at least I was honest. At least this part of my life won’t be tainted with this need to jump. “I go to AA meetings.”
Veronica twitches beside me as if shocked by a lightning bolt. “You’re an alcoholic?”
“No, I jump from cliffs.”
Veronica blinks, and I release a long breath as I’m aware that made no sense.
“It’s the reason I took you to the quarry. I thought it would be easier to explain there. See, my sponsor said I needed to be honest with you in order to start being honest with myself. I … uh … have this problem. I love jumping. The more danger associated with the jump the more of a rush I feel. I like the adrenaline high, and I’ve chased it for years. I used to hitchhike rides from strangers when I was too young to drive. Sometimes, I broke into the Y at night to jump off the high dive when no one was around. Since I’ve been able to drive, it’s worse. I’ll search online for hours to find the biggest, scariest jump.”
I give her time, give her space to process. In reality, I’m giving her time to leave. When she stays put, I doggedly continue, “I started taking bigger risks because some of the jumps had become boring. I want the high, crave the high, and then I did a jump and it went bad.” I show her the scar on my leg. It’s two inches long, right below my knee and it stung like a bitch when I hit the rocks. “You’d think when I hit those rocks and saw blood gushing from my leg that would have been enough to get me to stop jumping, but it didn’t because I’m stupid.”
It’s strange how her blue eyes are inquisitive, as if what I’m saying isn’t shocking and instead curious. “Is jumping how you broke your arm?”
“Yeah. I went to this place about an hour from here. Another abandoned quarry, but higher than the place I took you. The rocks there are spawns of Satan. It’s so dangerous that even other adrenaline junkies online warn people to stay clear. But I went and it was the best damn jump of my life. The rush I felt as I was in the air…”
Just the memory brings on a rush in my blood, but then I attempt to breathe away the sensation. I don’t want the high anymore. I don’t want to die.
“Even though I knew it was dangerous, I kept returning. The time between visits shortened and shortened until one day, the jump went wrong. I clipped an outcropping—a rock ledge about halfway down—and it changed my trajectory. I hit water, but slammed my arm against a sharp rock under the surface. My bones cracked and my arm became jelly. The pain disoriented me and I ended up losing air and taking in water. I panicked and was sinking and I should be dead right now.”
I choke on the last words and have to clear my throat.
“It’s okay,” Veronica whispers. “You aren’t there now.”
But I am. That’s what she doesn’t understand. When I’m not jumping, I often feel like I’m still stuck under that water. “But I got it together, fought the fear and kicked my way to the surface. I landed far from flat land, and it was the longest, hardest swim of my life. The drive to the Y was worse.”
“The Y?” Veronica exclaims, and I wince with how her tone calls out my stupidity.
“Besides having an arm dangle in a way that wasn’t natural, that’s how I knew I had a problem—I was more interested in lying to get myself out of the situation than taking care of my arm. I didn’t want anyone to know what I did so I went to the Y and faked a fall on the pool deck. It was a crap thing to do. I know it. I’m trying to stop so I started going to AA meetings.”
She tilts her head in disbelief, and I bitterly chuckle at her incredulous expression.
“There’s this guy a few years older than me, and he knows my problem. Even though I’m not an alcoholic and don’t drink, he’s taken me on. He’s my sponsor, I’m going to weekly meetings and I’m going to kick this. I’m going to stop jumping off of cliffs because if I don’t, I’ll die.”
Veronica’s eyes flicker about my fa
ce, searching for something, and I hope to hell she finds it. “Is it really that hard to stop?”
Her question digs into my soul. “Yeah. I’d love to go now. I’m wound as tight as I can get. Every part of me hurts. But when I jump…” Just thinking of the high makes me hungry … thirsty, as Knox would say. A deep breath in and then another out.
“I get it if this is too much for you,” I say. “You’re the only person who knows about my need to jump besides my sponsor. I haven’t even had the courage to talk at the AA meetings yet.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asks.
“Because you need to know I’m a real bastard. On that night, even though the ground was loose, we may have been able to climb back up the cliff. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to jump, and I wanted the added complication of jumping with you.” Anger at myself pummels my muscles and it’s chased by a shot of shame.
“I was stupid,” I say. “Careless and wrong. I could have hurt you and that pisses me off. I get it if you think I’m crazy and want to walk away.”
“Sawyer,” Veronica says slowly.
I glance over at her and she’s not looking at me like I expect—as if I’m the world’s biggest jerk, but instead with gentle understanding. This girl continuously trips me up.
“You don’t think I’m already aware you like a good rush?”
My mouth drops open to respond, but confused, I snap it shut again.
“How do people not see that about you?” She speaks in a slow way, as if testing out the words, like she might offend me. “If anyone bothers to take a good look at you, it’s obvious you like situations that get your heart pumping. I saw it that day at the TB hospital when the cops showed. You were willing to go toe to toe with me for as long as it took.”
My forehead creases as her words churn in my stomach. Do other people see it and say nothing or do other people in my life not see me at all?
“I don’t think liking extreme sports is a particularly bad thing, but I do think it crosses a line if you’re knowingly putting yourself into danger for the rush. Jumping out of planes with a parachute—not a problem. Jumping off of dangerous cliffs and into rocks because you can’t stop yourself—that’s a bit much. But I also give you credit for getting the help you need. Bonus points for the creative use of an AA meeting in your pursuit to make it right.”
“You should be bothered that I put you in danger.”
“First off, you didn’t put me in danger. I’m the idiot who tried to reach down for a barrette. I fell and you came after me to help. If you had wanted the jump to begin with, you wouldn’t have grabbed for me like you did. I felt the tug as you tried to drag me back up, but the pull of the landslide was too great.”
True.
“Two, I’m a smart girl and if I’m going to be offended by anything it’s going to be that you thought I hadn’t taken the climb into consideration before choosing the jump. I don’t let anyone talk me into anything. I saw the loose ground, and I also thought we could make the climb, but then I also considered the fact that if the climb did prove unsuccessful and the ground beneath us gave, we would have fallen into the water anyhow. Then you wouldn’t have been in the position to help me swim.”
I’m dumbfounded. So much so that I can do nothing more than stare at her.
“I don’t have room to judge you, Sawyer, if that’s what you’re waiting for. You’ve been doing something incredibly stupid, but you realize that you have an addiction and you’re getting help. For me to come down on you would be the same as someone getting mad and disappointed in me for having a tumor.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is,” she says. “There’s something in your genetic makeup that makes this a struggle for you. Same as there was something in my genetic makeup that made me sensitive to whatever chemicals that company poured into the ground near our home. That doesn’t mean you give in to the cravings, but it does mean that it’s a fight that you have that not many people will ever understand.”
“But my fight and your fight are different. You didn’t choose the tumor.”
“And you didn’t choose the addiction.”
My throat’s tight and I can’t look at her, only at the cracks along the sidewalk. She’s too nice, too forgiving, and she’s wrong. She has to be. I’m the one who’s weak, and I’m confused how she doesn’t see it. “I promise you, no more cliff jumping.” For her, I’ll do it.
“What if you do?” she asks. “Will you tell me?”
I don’t like her question, it eats at me wrong, but it’s an honest one that deserves an honest answer. It’ll suck if I let her down, but … “I’ll tell you.”
Veronica holds out her pinkie. “Swear?”
I chuckle yet link my pinkie with hers. “I swear.” Then roll my neck because while she’s been understanding about this, I’m not sure she’s going to be on the board for the following. “I have more bad news.”
“You’re a vampire?”
She’d probably like that better. “No, Sylvia and Miguel asked to join our group and I told them they could.”
And that’s when Veronica gets pissed.
* * *
“You kissed her,” Mom says the moment I close the door to our apartment. She says it as a statement, a fact, but the look she gives me from the couch is full of accusation. “I saw it myself, from Lucy’s window, so please don’t deny it.”
“
It’s late—ten at night. Veronica finally stopped being angry over the additions to our group by me pointing out I’d accept Kravitz and Lachlin if the situation was reversed. I get why she doesn’t like it, and I’ll admit to being hesitant, too.
Then, after a few minutes of kissing on the porch, the two of us went to her apartment and sorted through the photos I had taken of the bridge. We then went through the audio until I had to head to the Y for an evening staff meeting. To top it off, after the meeting, I did a few laps.
During our research, I’ll admit I heard, “He’s hurting,” and I’ll also admit that there was a strange ball of light in some of the photos, but I’m still not convinced about ghosts. Not like Veronica clings to the hope. To me, there’s probably some scientific reason. Some logic that I’m not smart enough to know.
“Yes, I kissed her,” I answer.
Mom has weekend-bloodshot eyes. She had more than a few too many last night at Sylvia’s and she’s been drinking by herself again tonight. Thank God tomorrow’s Monday and I’ll get at least four evenings where our conversations aren’t alcohol induced.
I walk past her and check on Lucy. She’s sound asleep in bed. I head to my room, dump my clean clothes from my basket onto my bed then pull the wet stuff out of my duffel bag and place that in my basket to wash later.
My hair is wet, it seems like my hair is always wet now. Since meeting with Knox, I swim. All the time. Before and after practice in the morning, after my shifts as a swim coach and lifeguard at the Y. In the evenings, I bring Lucy with me and do more laps. Knox calls it trading one addiction for another. A new addiction that’s less likely to get me killed.
Knox’s preferred addiction over drinking is long-distance running and painting. He laughed when he told me he sucks at painting. Knox’s theory is if we stay busy, we’re less apt to do the thing that brings us down.
“Are you dating her?” Mom stands in the doorway of my room, and I start folding clothes and placing them in my dresser.
Mom not saying Veronica’s name works under my skin. “Did Sylvia tell you that?”
“She doesn’t need to when I see you two kissing.”
“Yeah, I’m dating Veronica.”
“Is that wise?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because she’s … a distraction.”
That causes me to pause in mid-fold of a T-shirt. “What’s that mean?”
“It means you already have enough going on between swim and school and this project.”
“I thought you wanted me
to date.”
“Yes, but you should be with someone who is less … complicated.”
My spine straightens. “Does ‘complicated’ mean brain tumor?”
“Yes, no, I mean … I don’t understand … there are so many other girls in your group who would be better suited for you. Girls who are more like … you. This girl is just so…”
“Different,” I finish for Mom. “Yeah, she is, and I like it. So you know, I think it’d be wise if we drop this topic of conversation.”
“I’m concerned about this. I think she’s a bad influence.”
I cock an eyebrow but keep any comment to myself as I return to folding laundry.
“Since you’ve been spending time with her you’ve been so moody.” When she enters my room, she’s unbalanced on her feet.
“That’s not because of Veronica.”
“You’ve been letting down your friends and not hanging out with them as much and yelling at me, and you’ve been missing practices.”
“I won every race I had at last Saturday’s meet, so don’t worry about practices.”
“That’s not the point,” Mom pushes. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be friends with her. I’m proud that you are, that you are good enough of a boy to take on someone like her for a project when no one else would, but dating her seems—”
“I set a date to see Dad.” I cut her off, changing the subject to another one that sucks because if she keeps up on her problems with Veronica, we might have a screaming match so loud that Veronica might hear and that’s the last thing I’d want.
“He won’t stop texting me,” I continue, “as he thinks my doing this is me wanting some sort of relationship with him. And you should know, because he seems intent to stick around for this one, his girlfriend’s pregnant.”
Mom’s posture crumples as if I’d hit her. “How far along is she?”
“Dad said she’s due before Christmas.” I pick up my jeans and fold them in half.
Her entire body flinches and her cheeks go red. “How long have you known?”
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