Ugh. I roll out of bed and go to the window. It’s bright and sunny and the opposite of my mood.
What I need right now is Gigi.
All my life, she’s helped me see past the terrible things and focus on the big picture. I just hope she remembers me.
Mom is at her plaque scraper’s study group today, so I get in the car by myself for the first time. I’m surprisingly relaxed, or maybe I’m completely lying to myself. I forbid myself to turn my head toward the Costases’s house as I back down the driveway. I don’t want him to think I care what’s going on over there.
Every time I think of what happened, it’s like being hit by a steamroller. Flattened, all the life gone out of me.
The drive goes well. I only miss the entrance once, and I don’t almost hit any cats. The center is buzzing with activity, and the smell isn’t too bad today. I think it’s being masked a little by the strong odor of maple syrup, probably from breakfast.
Claudia opens Gigi’s door when I knock. “Well, hello there,” she says. “It’s good to see you.”
I feel somewhere else, not on the planet. I force myself to land and smile at her. “You, too.”
She peeks out the door before she closes it. “No Eli today?”
I stiffen hearing his name. “No. Just me.”
“Well okay, that’s fine by us, right, Maggie? Look who’s here.”
Gigi is in her chair, knitting. She looks up and her eyes brighten. “Nora.” She waves me in.
Thank God. She knows me.
Claudia winks. “It’s a pretty good day today.”
I go straight to my grandmother. She lifts her arms and gives me a tight squeeze. It feels so good and I let it sink in, the feel of her love surrounding me, one of my favorite things in the world. I need it so badly right now.
She points to the chair beside her. “Have a seat and tell me what’s wrong. You look like someone just kicked your dog.”
She sounds strong today, so much like her old self. I wrap that around me, too.
“If you ladies don’t mind,” Claudia interrupts, “I think I’ll take a little break. All right with you, Maggie?”
Gigi huffs. “Of course it is. I don’t need a babysitter!”
Claudia chuckles and makes her way to the door. “No, you most certainly do not.”
“So tell me what’s wrong.” Gigi waits.
I swallow hard. I didn’t come here to ruin Gigi’s day, but if I could get some of her advice, that would be amazing. But where do I start? I lean forward on the table, and prop my chin in my hand. “Everything?”
“Oh my. That’s a lot of things.”
My mind is overrun with things to say. I inhale, ready to let it all out. “Everything. Everyone. I don’t know.” I flip the pages of a magazine on the table, not even looking at it.
“Where’s the boy today?”
“Eli?” It hurts to say his name.
Her eyes dim for a second. “Yes, of course, Eli.” She scans my face, knowing that she forgot something she should have remembered.
I swallow. “Not coming today. Or ever again, probably, at least with me.”
“Ahhh. So he’s the problem.”
I don’t confirm or deny.
“What happened?”
Flipping pages manically, I blow out a breath. “He did something terrible.”
Gigi reaches out and touches my arm, stilling me instantly. “How terrible?”
Somewhere in my chest, I can feel my heart crumble just a little more. “So bad we can’t be friends anymore.”
Both her eyebrows lift. “That doesn’t sound like him.” She tsks. “He must have changed. He’s always seemed like such a nice boy.” She wrinkles up her nose. “Didn’t he make you a pie?”
My mind goes back to the Costases’s kitchen, and the surprise pie Eli made. “What?”
She pauses. “Yes. I remember he came here. He asked me how to make pie. Didn’t he?”
It’s hard, seeing her confused. “I think he must have.”
It’s like a memory is dancing around her and she’s trying to catch it. “Yes, he did,” she says, stronger. “He said he was going to make a pie for you. Because there was some other boy trying to woo you.”
I blink. “He said ‘woo’?”
“I don’t remember.” She moves her hand off my arm and sits back. “I told him to make sure his butter was cold, you know, because that’s the key to a perfect crust.”
“Really?”
She smiles. “Oh yes, I gave him my recipes. He didn’t give you a pie?”
Another chunk of my heart falls off. I’m like a melting glacier. “No, he made a pie. But he didn’t give it to me. He was tricking me because he thinks my ideas are stupid. Because he doesn’t think I should wait to find what you had with Harold.”
Again, confusion spreads across her face. “Harold?”
“Yes. Harold? Grandpa. You had that magic first kiss with him, and you knew he was the one.”
She holds her hand up to her lips, like she can still feel it. “Yes, I did.”
“Yes!” I say, so loud it startles her. “I mean, yes, that’s exactly what I’m waiting for, what you always said—it’s like a chemical reaction, it either happens or it doesn’t, and it happened for you. You were meant to be. That’s all I want—that kiss, like you had with Grandpa, the kiss that will tell me I’m with the right person. So that I’ll never…”
“Never what, sweetheart?”
I lift a shoulder. “Get my heart broken? End up like Mom and Dad? Divorced, depressed, lonely? If Mom had waited for that reaction…or Dad had…”
She sits up taller in her recliner. “Oh, pooh! If they had waited for some silly reaction, you wouldn’t be here!”
Silly reaction?
“I’m sorry, dear. It doesn’t work that way. Love isn’t a reaction. Reactions fizzle out.”
She pokes at my arm to make sure she has my attention.
“Well don’t they? I don’t think that love is ‘there’ or ‘not there’—it’s not that simple. The first time I kissed my Harold, yes, it was full of passion, and magic, yes it was. And then we got married after two weeks! How stupid was that?”
She chuckles, remembering.
This conversation is not going according to plan. I feel low-key nauseated. “You always said you were happy.”
“Well of course we were happy, and then we weren’t, and then we were again. Don’t think just because we were married for forty years he didn’t ever break my heart. He did, and I broke his.” She pauses, remembering. “There were a few times I wasn’t even sure we’d make it.”
My own breaking heart is pounding fast. She must be remembering wrong. I need her to tell me I’m right, that there is a science to finding true love. I need her to tell me that the first kiss is everything. “But you did make it,” I say. “Because he was the right person for you. You knew it from the beginning, because of the kiss. You said it was like a lightning strike. Or an earthquake. You knew.”
My grandmother watches me, full of love, no sign of a glitchy memory, and takes my hand. “The kiss, the kiss, the kiss, Nora, Nora, my dearest. I do think that some people are meant to be together, and maybe you can know it. For me, it was like an earthquake, for you it could be different. Your ‘earthquake’ might be a touch, or a glance. It might be a terrible first kiss, followed by a magnificent second kiss. It might be a friend who makes you pie.”
Her eyes light up and she winks at me.
My mouth goes dry. She knows. What did he say to her?
“Well I was ready, Gigi,” I blurt out and try to control my quivering bottom lip. “I was going to give him another chance. Then…” I can’t help it. I start crying.
“Oh no, oh dear, oh no. Come here,” Gigi says.
I don’t want to cry. Crying is a waste of time, but I can’t seem to stop, so I go to her. I kneel in front of her recliner and she puts her arms around me.
“Oh, oh, come now.”
&nb
sp; I lay my head in her lap, sobbing.
She smoothes my hair with her small, frail hand. “You know the best thing about love?”
I sniff. “No.”
She seems lost in a memory, somewhere far away. “It’s unpredictable. That’s what makes it such a miracle. So wonderful. It can’t be defined, or proven. It’s too big for that. Don’t try to make it small. And don’t you dare let it pass you by.” She keeps brushing back my hair, humming a song I’ve never heard. “I’ve always liked your hair down like this,” she says. “It suits you.”
I let myself absorb her words. I feel her touch, and soon, I’m not crying anymore.
When Claudia comes back, Gigi is asleep and I’m still at her feet. She helps me up, and Gigi doesn’t stir.
I cover her with a blanket from her bed and bend down to her ear. “I’ll see you next time,” I whisper, then kiss her gently on the top of her head.
I love her so much, and even though I’m not sure I can get past what Eli’s done, I think I see her point.
Love—family, or romantic, or whatever—is big. Maybe too big to be quantified by an experiment, or explained by science.
Maybe it was wrong to even try.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eli
I’m on some heavy painkillers. Trippy. Knee surgery was a success. Woo-hoo! I think that’s what they said, anyway. I was so out of it I can’t remember. Something about me having bionic knees. Something about being cleared to play by the time I get to college. No problem.
Damn. I’m going to college. I lie in my bed, high as a kite, thinking about what that means. First, no more Edinburgh High School. Which is fine. I had an okay time there, but I won’t miss it much as long as I get to keep playing lacrosse. Second, I don’t have a clue what I’m gonna do with my life. Going pro sounds fun, unless I’m not good enough. If I’m not, then what am I gonna do? I have no idea. What’s wrong with me that I have zero plans for the future? Probably ’cause I wet the bed until I was six.
Heh. It’s like I’m in therapy and the therapist is me!
I laugh and laugh.
I gotta pee.
“Don’t wet the bed, Costas,” I say. Out loud. I think I said it out loud, anyway.
The worst thing about going to college, to State, anyway, is this: no Nora. Because she’s going to Emory. I know she is. You know she is. We all know she is. After what I said to her, who can blame her? Not to imply that’s why she’s going. The real reason is: she’s so fucking smart. She’ll probably discover a cure for cancer first semester. Find the cure for—what? Something else really bad—second semester. What the hell am I gonna do without her?
These pills, they numb all sorts of pain. Not all of it, though. Not even close. I need some Nora-quil. That’s what I need.
I laugh about that for a really long time.
I should have kissed her. I should have taken her in my arms, leaned in, and said, fuck it, I don’t care if this is the worst kiss in the history of kissing, you can dump me again and again and again and I’ll kiss you again and again. It would be worth it!
Mom comes into my room without knocking, Ari at her side. “Honey, we brought a snack,” she says. She’s got a glass of water, and Ari’s holding a plate of something. I can’t tell what. They’re both kind of swaying in the doorway. I close my eyes.
“You ready to eat something?” Mom asks.
“Uhhh.” I groan. “No.”
My stomach’s been a wreck since I woke up from the surgery.
“I gotta pee.”
“Okay, honey.” Mom sounds worried. “Let’s get you up.”
Between the three of us, I get into the bathroom and do my business without passing out. I’m starting to come back to earth a little bit.
Mom props the pillows behind my head. “You want to watch some TV?”
“What do ya say, Ari?” Mom won’t let him sit on my bed, just in case my knee gets knocked around. He stiffens up, on the verge of getting upset. “SpongeBob?” I ask.
He relaxes some. “Yes.” He sounds relieved and grabs the remote while pulling up the desk chair. Mom leaves us alone while he finds the boating school episode, of course. It’s his favorite.
It’s also ironic because it makes me think of driving school, and Nora. Really, though, on these drugs, what doesn’t make me think of Nora?
“You doin’ okay?” I ask my brother.
He’s mesmerized by SpongeBob and doesn’t respond.
“Yo! Ari?”
He turns to me. “You’re gonna die, Eli.”
“No way, dude, not ever.”
He tilts his head, considering what I’ve said for a whole ten seconds. “Okay.” He still holds the plate in his hand, it’s a slice of pie and he’s eating it. “Where’d that come from?”
“Nora.”
“She brought it?” It’s black bottom, from the Tick Tock, I can tell.
He takes another bite, and chocolate smears on his upper lip. “No, her mom.”
I’m confused and scratch my chin. “So her mom brought it.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I check my phone, even though I’m still not exactly seeing straight. Texts from most of the team, wanting to know if I’ll live. Koviak, who’s still begging me to come to the bonfire on Thursday. Nothing from Nora.
Even if her mom brought it over, she probably suggested it, so it’s from her. Right? “Hey, yo.” I focus on Ari again. “That was supposed to be for me. Give me some.”
He grudgingly passes the plate, where there’s only about a third of the slice left. I don’t care. She brought me pie again. Somewhere in my painkiller-numb brain, knowing this makes me feel a whole lot better.
I wake up after a night of drug-induced, weird-ass dreams. The weirdest? Me, in full lacrosse gear, swimming in the ocean. I hear Nora calling out for me, and I can’t find her. I frantically flap through the water, trying to save her. When I find her, she’s already on shore, all like “I don’t need your help.” Tex is standing beside her, in hockey gear and a cowboy hat, which he tips to me.
I’m pissed the whole morning, and then I have to go to rehab, so things don’t get better. I still work hard for the physical therapist. It hurts bad, but I gotta get used to it. This injury was worse than the last time. Recovery’s going to take longer, and I gotta push hard. If I don’t, I won’t get to play for State, or maybe ever again. Intramurals maybe, or when I’m old and fat on some amateur league trying to relive my youth.
That afternoon, someone knocks on my bedroom door. Dad doesn’t wait for an answer, though—he just plows into my room.
“Eli!” he shouts, and I wait for him to yell at me for something. I haven’t done anything lately, but he’s a cop, so he could dig stuff up if he really tried.
I’m baffled right now, though, because he’s smiling.
“What?” I’m still waiting, wonder if he’s finally lost it, and this is his Jack Nicholson “Here’s Johnny,” The Shining moment. I sit up taller, ready for the ax to fall, thinking I must have done something really bad.
His grin widens. “You’ve been getting some calls from a Jacksonville number?”
“I don’t know.” I dig through my blankets for my phone that I tossed in here somewhere. I’ve been getting tons of texts, still none from Nora. There are also a few missed calls. “Yeah.” I hand him the phone. “I don’t know anyone in Jacksonville.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Well start picking up! I just got a call from one of the North Florida lacrosse coaches. He’s been trying to get in touch with you!”
“What? Why?”
Dad is hopping—legit hopping—up and down so hard he can’t speak.
I’m not getting any of this. Must be the drugs. “What? Dad? What did he say?”
“He said he wants to talk to you. He wants to talk about next year.” Dad’s trying to catch his breath, which makes him sorta sound like a really excited Darth Vader. “They need an attackman on the team. They want you!”
> I shake my head and try to understand. “No. That’s impossible. I’m injured.”
Dad won’t stop hopping. “He doesn’t care. He had a scout at the Lake Mary game, and he’s seen films. He saw you play after you recovered last time. He knows you can come back. He’s willing to put you on the roster. I told him the doc said you should be good to go by the time the preseason starts. He’s interested, E, he’s interested! WHOOOOP!”
My Dad, most low-key guy on earth, is screaming like a middle school cheerleader. Mom comes running, Ari on her heels. “What’s wrong? What is it?” Her voice is high-pitched and panicked.
“Nothing!” Dad says, still jumping. “Your son! Is going! To the University of North Florida! The coach wants him!”
“Wait,” I say. Even though Mr. Chaffee told me to go ahead and get my hopes up, my hopes have spent the last week or so dashed to the ground. I think it’s smart to proceed with caution. “How could this happen? What about my grades?”
Dad keeps his feet on the ground, still smiling. “He said as long as you don’t blow this last semester—which you won’t—and retake the ACT—which you will—and improve your score, you can get in. He even said there might be some scholarship money if we jump right on it.”
“No!” Mom yells. Now she’s jumping up with him and also crying. Ari has his hands on his ears. Loud noises freak him out, but I can tell he knows this is a happy thing.
I can’t jump up and down. Plus I’m in shock. I think back to my hallway conversation with Mr. Chaffee, him telling me about his friend at UNF. Did he make this happen?
“Eli?” Mom stops and hits me with her worried face. “Honey, aren’t you happy? Is this what you want?”
Dad doesn’t give me a second to answer. “Hell yeah, this is what he wants!” He leans over me and messes up my hair.
I don’t know what to say. “Yeah, I’m happy. I just…”
The First Kiss Hypothesis Page 17