Like Never and Always

by Ann Aguirre

  “Morgan, no. Liv would want us to take care of you. I’ll leave you to get settled. In case you forgot, dinner is at six, and I’ll need you to set the table.”

  “No problem. But … what should I call you?”

  “Jeannie is fine,” she says with a tentative smile.

  I wave as she heads down the hall toward the kitchen. Closing the door, I take in the changes to my old room. They’ve repainted so it’s pale cream and there are new curtains, new bedding in abstract silver-and-gray patterns. Jeannie left all the mementos of my friendship with Liv, though really it’s a monument to the time before—before two became one. As for the décor, Morgan would’ve liked it, I think. Since the gun went off, I haven’t sensed her at all or smelled her mother’s perfume. The unopened bottle of Clinique Happy is on my dresser like a reminder.

  Was it enough? I finished what you started.

  More or less.

  I plug in my laptop, marveling at small freedoms I took for granted before Riverglen. Now I can waste as much time as I want on the Internet. My phone is back in my possession, too, but I’ve gotten used to the silence. Online, there are more updates on Creepy Jack’s prison sentence and other officials he may have implicated. The charges are piling up.

  Clicking another link, I find updates on another mystery. They’re finding bodies now, the girls who went missing, the ones who look like me or maybe more accurately, my mother. No new disappearances have been registered since my father died. I remember the bloody friendship bracelet in Morgan’s room and try not to imagine where and how she found it. There are questions unanswered and I wonder now how much time he spent with his girlfriend and what might have happened to her if she eventually disappointed him?

  I’m better off without these answers. Morgan only meant to find out what happened to her mother; she couldn’t have imagined how deep the secret river ran. As for me, I’m done poking around in dark corners. Any debt between Morgan and me, it’s discharged.

  The world is wide open with the sun shining overhead. It’s time for me to stretch, look around, and appreciate the fact that I’m still alive. I completed the mission, and I’m still here. My second shot at life is a gift, not a glitch.

  For long moments, I stare at my phone before deciding to turn it on. I’m inundated with missed calls, voice-mail messages, and old texts. No, I’m not interested in selling my story. No, I don’t want to be featured on that daytime talk show or help a ghostwriter put together a screenplay. Most of it is awful, so I delete the rest without reading or listening. But this is starting to feel like a gauntlet that will eventually end. I’ve seen the shelf life of other scandals, and it’s not like Creepy Jack was a presidential candidate.

  This, too, shall pass.

  Once I’ve cleaned out the junk, I can focus on messages from people I know. There are a few from Oscar and company; the science club doesn’t have my number. My heart turns over when I see how many I have from Clay. He must’ve known I couldn’t reply, and yet as I scroll back, I see he’s sent me a message for every single day I was away.

  I’m thinking of you.

  I miss you.

  I’m waiting for you.

  There are eighteen of these texts and I read them like they’re Pulitzer Prize material. By the time I get to the end, today’s message, my hands are shaking. I’m crying, and I don’t know why. This is what I couldn’t do with Dr. Lasky.

  Despite tear-blurred eyes, I send back, I’m home.

  He’s probably at work, so I won’t hear back for a while. I plug my phone in and go set the table. That night I spend enough time with the family in the living room that they won’t think I’m isolating myself in a worrisome way, but inwardly I’m dying to get back to my cell.

  “Are you going to school tomorrow?” Jeannie asks.

  “Unless you’re planning to homeschool me.” It’s a joke, but she’s not sure until I smile.

  She laughs nervously. “You’ll do fine. I think the storm has passed. There’s a state senator who’s been caught with a prostitute, so most of the reporters are on that story now.”

  “Really? That’s both awful and reassuring.”

  At nine, I shower, then head for my bedroom. Jason comes out to take his turn in the bathroom, and he’s not wearing headphones. He looks at me for a minute and says, “I don’t hate that you’re here, but don’t touch my stuff,” before shutting the door in my face.

  I’ll take it.

  Somehow I make myself get dressed and towel off my hair without touching my phone. That fast, I’m thinking of Clay again, and how he took care of me. I’m not as alone as I was back then, but I still want him. Eventually compulsion wins out and I check messages.

  To my surprise, I’ve got five from him.

  Text 1: Can I see you?

  Text 2: Where are you?

  Text 3: Mrs. Rhodes said you’re not home, is she screwing with me?

  Text 4: At least tell me if you’re okay.

  The last one just reads, Please, and it’s time-stamped forty-three minutes ago. Holy shit, seems like he’s frantic. Hurriedly, I type a reply. Sorry, I’m fine. Really. I’m staying at Liv’s house. It’s too late tonight, but I’ll be in school tomorrow.

  Checking the calendar, I see that it will be Monday. To be honest, I didn’t even realize what day it was. Riverglen had basically the same routine, regardless. But that means Clay will be off work.

  He sends, I’ll pick you up in the morning.

  Jeannie and Grant may not approve of this, but they’re aware Morgan has been dating Clay for a while. They don’t know him as well as Nathan, but they’ll have to get used to him if he wants to be with me. There’s no way to be sure until we talk, of course, but I’m hopeful.

  In bed I close my eyes and imagine family dinners with Clay at the table. He’s starved of such warmth, more than anyone would believe. In time, maybe we can invite both Clay and Nathan, though I don’t want to push since I’m finding my place all over again.

  This new beginning doesn’t terrify me at all. Rather, it’s like a walk down a familiar lane after a long absence, admiring how well the trees have grown.

  58

  In the morning, I pay more attention than usual to my style. Not original Morgan levels of gorgeous, but more than Liv. And I suppose that basically represents the median I’ve reached in my new life as a whole. Breakfast is loud and cheerful, just like it was before. Morgan was here enough before that they’re not awkward like I feared.

  In time, I hope to fill the hole in their hearts. Maybe subconsciously they’ll realize that Liv’s not entirely gone. My purpose isn’t to crack old wounds open. I just want to hollow out a space of my own. True family doesn’t need blood ties; at the end of the day, they are the people who love you best, who laugh and cry with you, and who are always watching out the window when you come home.

  Jason leaves first to catch the bus and Grant asks me, “Do you need a ride?”

  I shake my head. “Clay is picking me up. If it’s okay, I’ll stop by the estate to get my car after school.”

  “We don’t mind,” Jeannie says. “It’s not like you can’t afford gas and insurance.”

  I smile. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  Her answering smile melts into a concerned frown. “Are you sure you want to stay in Renton? Though things have quieted, I can’t imagine it’ll be easy. There are some great boarding school options. Mrs. Rhodes sent over a packet that your father had put together, before.”

  There is some charm to the prospect of a fresh start. But I fought so long and so hard to get back here, I can’t pack my things straight off. “Let’s see how it goes. Maybe, if it’s awful, as a last resort…”

  Jeannie nods, obviously reassured. “That’s all we can do, take it one day at a time. But let me know if it’s too much and I’ll help you with the paperwork.”

  “Deal. See you this afternoon.”

  To my surprise, she hugs me and kisses my cheek. Bittersweet delight floods me
as I step out the front door to find Clay already waiting. He doesn’t wait for me to reach him; instead he closes the distance between us at a run and hauls me into his arms, so tight I can hardly breathe. But I don’t mind the intensity. His heartbeat hammers into mine like a promise.

  “I was wrong,” he whispers into my hair. “I don’t care who you are. When you left and everything went quiet between us, it felt like dying.”

  “I’m glad you got your priorities straight. And all I had to do was spend a few weeks in a mental-health facility,” I joke.

  His grim look says he doesn’t find this amusing. “I’m sorry for what I put you through. It’s just that … giving things up for Nathan is kind of second nature at this point. I’m not doing that anymore.”

  “Glad to hear it.” But a flicker of curtain tells me that Jeannie is watching us; it’s kind of nice to have that worry again. It means somebody cares what I’m doing. “But we should find a better place to continue this conversation.”

  “Right,” he says, sheepish, glancing over my shoulder.

  Waving in the general direction of the kitchen window, I get in the car and wait for Clay to decide where we’re going. He drives to the park near Renton High, an excellent choice as there aren’t many people at this hour, just the occasional jogger or dog walker. We park beneath the spreading branches of a stately live oak, the shadows granting considerable privacy.

  “You were saying…?” I prompt.

  “No more yielding to Nathan, disregarding what I want. Plus, it is up to you. And if I’m the lucky bastard, it’d be dumb as hell to walk away.” He takes my hand and flattens it on his heart, like he did before. “I can’t promise you a lot, except that I’ll be around until you don’t want me anymore. And I know full well that you’ll be leaving this town before me.”

  No question I’m going to university. Johns Hopkins is still an attainable dream, if I play my cards right this year. Yet I can’t resist messing with him a little. “Well, yeah. There’s a boarding school in Austria with my name on it.”

  His breath hitches, and he closes his eyes as if it hurts to look at me. “When … when are you going?”

  “I’m not sure yet. A few things are still up in the air.”

  “Like what?” he asks hoarsely.

  “Whether my boyfriend asks me to stay.”

  “Huh?” From his expression, he might’ve just been punched in the gut. “I’ll never be an anchor tying you here when you don’t want to be. I won’t ever be the reason your life is small.”

  I sigh. “You can be such an idiot sometimes.”

  Comprehension dawns, and he starts to smile when he realizes I’m teasing him. “Oh. Can I change my answer?”

  “Please do.”

  “Then stay. I want to wear that gray suit and dance with you under a dumb disco ball. I’ll see you off to college with a smile and visit as often as I can. Once Nathan graduates, he’s on his own, and I’ll be hot on your heels. No matter where you go, I’ll follow … and I’ll find a way to chase my dreams wherever you are.”

  That may not be realistic but I don’t care. Right now it’s exactly what I want to hear. “Remember, your girlfriend is absurdly well-off. I’m sure I can grease the wheels.”

  As I knew he would, Clay makes a face at this offer. “It’s enough to be with you.”

  “I love you,” I whisper, forcing him to lean in to catch the words.

  When he does, I kiss him because I’m not the sort of girl who waits around. This morning he tastes of mint and his lips are so hot on mine. His tongue does things that make me squirm, and we kiss for ages, like I don’t have to be at school. I run my lips over his jaw, across to his ear, and muss his hair wildly. Nipping gently, I can’t control the desire to put my mark on him, this beautiful misunderstood boy with such a strong, lovely heart.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” he finally pants, breathing hard.

  “For now.” I grin at his lack of composure, reveling in it. For me this is both familiar and brand new.

  “Let’s get you to school or I’ll be tempted to take you home with me. I have the day off and some dirty inclinations.”

  “Any other day, I might go for that. But I can’t get away with skipping. Jeannie will be watching me like a hawk for a while.”

  “Is that what you call your mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t plan to tell them … and prove it like you did with me?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet. I’ll play it by ear, see if they notice. Even if they don’t, it’s all right. I’m in a good place now.”

  At Riverglen, they would say that I have an undiagnosed mental illness—that I am not Liv and never was. They would say that I’ve always been Morgan Frost, and I built this elaborate self-delusion to cushion myself from an awful reality and layers of trauma.

  But I know who I am and who I used to be. I can’t explain it, but this is what I know to be true: For the first sixteen years, I was Liv Burnham, and she is dead. I will live the remainder of my life as Morgan Frost. Maybe there will come a time when I don’t remember with such clarity. Years will blur my recollections until even I think I must’ve been mistaken … or ill.

  That doesn’t matter either. They say perception is reality, and reality is whatever we can bring ourselves to accept at the time. So reality is relative, just like Einstein’s theory.

  Clay kisses me once more and starts the car. “You’ll be cutting it close.”

  “I always do.”

  In a way I wish we’d arrived earlier, but maybe it’s better to run the gauntlet from the jump. People will stare and talk; this is inescapable. But I won’t be the most interesting aspect of school forever. Everything passes; this is both a comfort and a subtle threat. Spring blossoms turn into ripe fruit that hang heavy and drop, half-rotten, for the birds to eat. Life is an endless cycle, and I am only a small player on a gigantic stage.

  Being philosophical helps a little.

  “I’ll pick you up after school,” Clay says, smiling. “I have a surprise planned.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Bracing myself, I square my shoulders and climb out of Clay’s car. This is my first public appearance since my father killed himself.

  59

  No question people are watching me, whispering, but nobody approaches. The bubble created by Liv’s death has widened, like I’m walking in a sphere of mortality.

  “Can’t believe she came back,” someone says, loud enough for me to hear.

  “I missed you.” Oscar strides toward me, completely magnificent in black. His hair is coifed to perfection, and he’s proving that he doesn’t give a shit about the rumors. When he gets close, he gives me an actual hug, which is awesome since he’s not like that.

  But this is theater; he’s proving a point.

  Soon I’m surrounded by the rest of the group: Emma, Tish, Sarah, Ben, and Eric. They all hug me and form a perimeter. And we’re not friends because I have a huge house. That was unfair, and I was an asshole for thinking it. As we get closer to the school, I can hardly speak for the gratitude choking me. None of them asks any awkward questions, though I’ll talk later, as much as I can.

  It seems like the worst is over, when reporters surge at us. A man’s holding a video camera and a woman shoves a microphone at me. But before she can get going, more people appear, women who wouldn’t be out of place at a church social. They’re holding signs in support of poor Jack Patterson and condemning my lack of Christian morals.

  The oldest protester screams, “You knew he was married, you knew!” and she hauls her arm back. Eric moves faster than I’ve ever seen him, putting himself between us, and he’s the one who gets splattered with whatever she has in that bucket. It smells disgusting, like a combination of mulch and compost.

  It’s true, I did know. But he knew, too.

  From the commentary, I figure the camera is rolling, catching the drama, but I don’t feed it. Emma pauses long enough to say, �
�You people are disgusting,” and then she herds me into the school. Security has been notified and they sweep the fundamentalists and the media off the property. They might be waiting when class is over, but I already knew this wouldn’t be easy. I might not be the top Internet search anymore, but the world is full of crazy people who have nothing but time and plenty of hate.

  After I apologize to Eric, he takes off to use the showers and change into sweats that he keeps for gym. Oscar is watching me like a hawk, as if he expects me to break down. But I’m stronger than that. While I might be scarred, I’m not broken. I’m not ruined. And there’s no shame in knowing I made bad choices. Everyone does. There’s no such thing as “perfect” in this world, only people who are pretending.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him. And it’s mostly true.

  The day isn’t easy. There are cruel words and whispers. Some people act like I have a contagious disease, and one guy calls me a slut when I refuse to acknowledge him.

  On the bright side, this is the first time I’ve gotten to attend my new classes, and they’re fascinating. I’m really behind, though, thanks to my mental health break. I leave at the end of the day with a huge pile of assignments and a long reading list. I’m looking forward to the normalcy of studying, dates with my boyfriend, and having a curfew. These are small wonders that I will never take for granted again.

  After school, I hunt for Isaiah Emerson and apologize for taking so long with his notes.

  “It’s cool,” he says. “You were … busy.”

  Understatement. I don’t ask for my bracelet back since I broke our agreement.

  Oscar sends Eric out to check the parking lot and he reports that the coast is clear. I promise to invite them over soon. “But I’m at the Burnham house now, so our options are a little more limited.”

  “It was never your house we liked,” Ben tells me.

  “I know,” I say, smiling.

  Though it’s completely unnecessary, they walk me out to Clay’s car like a guard detachment. Only once Oscar’s sure I’m safe does he jog off to catch a ride with Emma’s brother. For the small effort I’ve put in, I have better friends than I deserve. And maybe that’s all you need to go on, even when it’s tough—that for every asshole who calls you names, there’s someone willing to take a slop bucket for you.