This is Not the End

by Chandler Baker

  “‘Go to the place that welcomes tramps,’” Matt recites. “Personally I think it’s a brothel. Seems like the most logical place for Will.”

  I sit up long enough to glare at him through the rearview mirror. I’ve run into a problem, though. Will planned for me to complete the scavenger hunt with him, meaning if I got stuck, he could serve as a backstop. Okay, so he’d probably have made me suffer before showing mercy, but I would have made it to the end. I’d have gotten the prize.

  But now what?

  Think, Lake, think. I had been so sure that this would be the answer. My methodology. My way back. Everything. But if I couldn’t use this, what would I do?

  I feel the telltale signs of tears tickling behind my nose and in my eye sockets. I don’t want to cry in front of my brother, but I’m not sure I can help it. I keep my head on the steering wheel and try to keep my shoulders from shaking.

  Matt sighs loudly, then says, “Italy.”

  “What?” I push my fists into my eyes and swipe away the tears.

  “Italy. Italian food.” Matt is mumbling so that I have to strain to hear. “‘Shaped like a shoe,’” he quotes. “He means a boot. Italy is shaped like a boot.”

  I twist to face him. The seatbelt cuts into my chest.

  “Any Italian restaurants significant to you?” he says.

  A lump rises in my throat. “Yes.” Barely above a whisper. “Yes, we…had our first real date at Taterelli’s.”

  Matt presses his lips into a line. “Well, there you go. Guess you have your answer.”

  I watch my brother carefully before finally turning and moving the gear into drive. “Thank you,” I say, and I find that I actually mean it.

  I see now that the ball from the clue is a meatball—like the one the two main characters, a cocker spaniel and a mutt, share in this animated movie, Lady and the Tramp. Will bought a remastered version of it to show his little sister, Maddie, who we had actually come to like despite the fact that her mother was Linda, and Will and I brought popcorn and sour candies and stuffed our faces with Maddie while watching the movie with her, which I think we enjoyed probably twice as much as she did.

  A happy memory expands my heart, testing the strength of the arteries and veins that hold it to my chest. We drive downtown to Taterelli’s, where I circle the block three times, looking for handicap parking. “You have to be kidding me,” I say, leaning over and searching the spots. “Where do they expect us to go?”

  Matt scoffs. “Are you surprised by this?”

  “Um, yeah.” I flick the blue permit hanging from the mirror. “This is supposed to mean something. There are supposed to be designated spots.”

  Matt sighs, like I am so naïve it physically exhausts him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the world’s not exactly designed for people like me.”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek until it becomes raw, barely listening. By the fifth time that we pass the restaurant’s green awning I make a decision to stop in the middle of my lane and turn on the flashers.

  “What are you doing?” Matt asks indignantly.

  I push the minivan’s gearshift into park. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I say. “Getting you out.” I wait until a few cars pass and then jump down from the van. Matt’s ramp unfortunately unloads from the driver’s side and already there are two cars stopped behind us. The first one puts on its blinker and waits for the chance to swerve over into the next lane, which it does at an entirely unnecessarily high rate of speed. I put my hand up as a human stop sign right outside the front of Taterelli’s and try my best to look authoritative.

  I press the button and Matt’s ramp begins to unfurl. “Lake.” His face comes into view, contorted into an irritated look, bordering just this side of angry. “Stop, this is—this is—we’re in the middle of the road.” I’m not used to seeing my brother flustered.

  I put my hands on my hips. “They’ll wait.”

  “I don’t want to do this,” he says.

  “Too bad, we already are.” I glance over my shoulder. Cars farther back in the line with drivers who can’t see what’s happening ahead of them begin to honk. “You wanted to come.”

  “Just park and leave me in the car.”

  “Uh-uh, no way.” I stoop and march up the ramp, swivel his chair, and begin backing him down into the street.

  The street has erupted into a cacophony of honking horns by now, and even my cheeks are going red at being the cause of the holdup. Still, I manage to get Matt’s wheelchair onto the blacktop, but then run into an additional hang-up when I have to bump his wheels up onto the curb. I watch the back of Matt sway clumsily in the chair as I hoist the apparatus onto the sidewalk.

  I wipe my forehead, which is slick with sweat, and rest for just a moment with my hands on the rear handles of his wheelchair. The honking escalates. “Okay, God, I hear you!” I shout at them. The air outside the restaurant smells like cooking oil and marinara sauce. “Wait here,” I tell him.

  “Lake, wait—” But I’m already sprinting back to the van. “Okay,” he calls after me. “But if you can’t find me, I’m having a beer at the bar down the street.”

  Very funny.

  I retract the ramp and throw the car into drive, this time heading a few blocks over, and find a parking spot about a five-minute walk away.

  I hustle back to my brother with the sun burning my skin. Downtown shoppers and beach tourists step around where I’ve left him on the sidewalk, most with sour looks on their faces. A woman pulls her young child’s wrist closer to her and I catch her saying, “Watch out for the nice man.” And see Matt roll his eyes in response. I stare after her, wanting to yell at her that my brother isn’t the bogeyman for goodness’ sake, he’s just a boy in a wheelchair, but find myself thinking twice because sometimes he is sort of scary. At least to me.

  “Gee, Lake,” he greets me. “Thanks for leaving me in the center of a busy sidewalk. Super swell of you.”

  I grit my teeth, feeling disproportionately exhausted from the day already. “I’m doing my best, Matt.” But then I see it. The stairs up to Taterelli’s and no ramp. I am positive that on my date with Will a fact like that wouldn’t have registered. Taterelli’s sits in an old historic district of downtown. I scan the storefront and find no suitable way up.

  “Shit,” I say.

  “Shit,” Matt agrees.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m going for help.”

  It takes me no effort at all to climb the six steps. A blast of cool air greets me in Taterelli’s, where the inside of the restaurant feels three shades too dark.

  “Can I help you?” A hostess comes into grainy focus.

  I’m looking around at the restaurant. I haven’t been here since…since Will. It looks exactly the same. Dark-red curtains. Tiny candles on each of the tables. Fresh long-stemmed roses sitting in a vase atop a grand piano that’s being played by a guy in a gray suit and cufflinks.

  “Would you like to see a menu?” asks the hostess, politely.

  She holds out a laminated booklet. I know that if I open it, there will be a list of entrées way too expensive for any high school kid.

  “No.” I hold out my palm and push the menu back in her direction. “My brother. He’s in a wheelchair. See, we were trying to come in, but there’s no ramp. I need help getting him up. Please, can you find someone? Preferably someone big and strong,” I say, eyeing her silky blouse and waif arms.

  Her mouth forms a dainty O of surprise. “Of course, of course. One moment.” And she disappears down a dimly lit hallway.

  After what feels like an eternity, the flimsy-armed hostess returns with two young men in grease-stained T-shirts and rolled-up sleeves. They introduce themselves as Antonio and Teddy.

  Frustrated by the wait, I usher Antonio and Teddy outside, where my brother sits with his head bowed over his lap. “Matt?” I venture.

  Matt lifts his head. Sweat is dribbling down his nose and from the hair plastere
d to his temples. There are droplets in his eyelashes and he’s squinting and blinking and can’t seem to open them all the way to look at me. His hands rest uselessly on the armrests of his chair.

  “I brought help.”

  Matt’s mouth turns into a sneer and I feel more than see him harden. “And they’re supposed to what? Snap their fingers and magic me into the restaurant?”

  “No.” I take a deep breath. I can’t help being embarrassed by the way Matt acts in front of other people. “They’re supposed to carry you.”

  Antonio and Teddy hustle to either side of the wheelchair and position their hands on the handlebars and through the spokes of the wheel.

  “Not a problem, buddy,” says Teddy.

  Matt’s eyes snap into focus. “No. Lake. No. This is humiliating. I’m not a—Whoa.” The wheelchair teeters into the air. “Stop manhandling me, buddy. Put me down. Right now.”

  Teddy and Antonio share a look. Teddy nods and they lower Matt to the ground again.

  “I didn’t think you got humiliated,” I say.

  His jaw clenches. “Leave me here. I don’t care.”

  Teddy’s eyebrows swoop up, questioning.

  “Come on, Matt.” I groan and tilt my chin to the sky.

  I watch as a familiar darkness spreads over Matt’s face, slowly, like a building storm. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, a sign that I recognize to mean he’s shifted from uncomfortable to in pain. Because despite not being able to move from the chest down, his whole body can still wrack him with agony any time it damn well pleases.

  I shouldn’t have brought him out here. I don’t know how to care for Matt. I don’t even know how to talk to him. “Please, Matt.” His gaze is stony. “There’s air-conditioning in there.”

  He stares up at me through his lashes. After a long moment, he nods. “Fine.”

  Teddy and Antonio make soft grunting noises as they spirit him off the ground and carry him into the restaurant like he’s royalty. By the time his wheels touch down, Matt’s using some very creative curse words.

  Antonio disappears back into the kitchen the first chance he gets, shaking his head. “May I show you to a table?” Teddy asks, though.

  “Christ, Lake.” Matt’s chin is squished against his chest. “My goddamn eyes.”

  “Right.” I glance around and spot a napkin on a place setting at the first table in the fancy dining area. I quickly grab it. The silverware clatters noisily to the table. “Here.” I come back and gently lift his chin with my fingertips. I then dab the corners of his eyes, his lashes, and his eyebrows, where the sweat is still trickling, until it stops.

  When Matt is able to fully open his eyes again, I’m caught, level with his gaze, staring into the gold-flecked irises.

  “Thanks.” Matt’s voice is soft.

  “Yeah, um, no problem.”

  “So,” Teddy interjects.

  “Right, yeah.” I stand up straight and press the napkin to my own damp forehead. “No table. We’re not ordering any food. I don’t think, anyway.” When Teddy looks confused, I soldier on. It was just like Will not to care how completely embarrassing and out of my comfort zone this whole interaction might be. “My boyfriend came up with this scavenger-hunt thingy.” I think I see Teddy’s smile falter for a split second. “For my birthday. I think this is one of the spots, but I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do here.”

  “You’re supposed to bring back a ball,” Matt says. “Her name is Lake. Lake Devereaux.”

  Teddy raises an eyebrow. “So, you must be the famous Lake, then.”

  “That’s me. Well, except for the famous bit. I’m the nonfamous Lake Devereaux. Hope that’s okay.”

  “She’s just being modest. This little lady has completed the eleventh grade,” Matt says in the slowest and most condescending tone possible.

  “Boyfriend, you said?” Teddy tilts his chin away from me and studies me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Um, yeah, that’s what I said.” There’s a pause. “Why? Is something wrong?”

  Teddy blinks and shakes his head. “No. Sorry. He just came in with someone.”

  “Hippie looking? Lots of jewelry? Offbeat clothes?” I say.

  He cocks his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he says. “I think I would have remembered that. Anyway, I just thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.” My heartbeat quickens because it doesn’t sound like Penny, which means it might have been someone else. Another girl. But we didn’t hang out with any other girls. Teddy nods abruptly and spins on his heel. “Right. I’ll, uh, be right back.” And he vanishes in the same direction that Antonio has.

  I tap my foot on the carpeted floor, and since I don’t want to think about the someone that Will came in with, I decide to snap at Matt instead. “Do you have to be such an ass to everyone?”

  “Oh, the eleventh-grade comment? I’m sorry. I just thought the twentysomething bus boy should slurp up his drool given that, I don’t know, you’re still in high school.”

  “He wasn’t drooling.”

  “Please, Lake. You know what effect you have on people,” Matt mutters and glances away. “Your friends. School. Everything’s so easy for you. I mean, I’m your brother and all and trust me, the whole thing makes me want to vomit, then aspirate my vomit so that I can vomit again, but even I know, the pretty thing…it works for you.”

  I grind my teeth together and cross my arms. “You’re an idiot” is all I can muster.

  Because I know I’m pretty. I have known since the first moment I walked into St. Theresa’s and met Harrison and Peng. But to imply that I have friends because of the way I look is ridiculous. Hurtful, even.

  Unbidden, though, and despite my best efforts to ignore every sign pointing me back to it, Will’s secret posts echo through my mind: Well, when you said it, did the ugly parts show through? And it’s as though someone has socked me in the stomach with a baseball bat. Again.

  Maybe that’s why I’m confused when Teddy reappears holding out a Styrofoam takeout container. “What’s this?” I ask. Or it could just be the fact that Teddy is holding out a Styrofoam takeout container, since that in itself is pretty weird, considering I didn’t order anything.

  “A meatball for the lady.” Teddy grins, but his grin folds when he notices Matt staring hard at him again. Teddy shifts his weight on his feet. Lady and the Tramp. I was right. The two dogs have a fancy dinner and nudge the meatball to each other between their noses. It’s oddly touching, even for someone like me who doesn’t like dogs.

  Will, of course, adored dogs. Then again, he didn’t have a scar on his hand from where one had bit him, so that made it easier.

  “And this.” He hands me an envelope. On it, Will’s handwriting spells out my name, and then underneath it: Clue 2. Seeing Will’s writing after his death feels eerie. I can’t stop staring at it. I consider asking for more information about the someone with whom Teddy saw Will. Could it still have been Penny, just in less free-spirited clothes? But instead I gingerly pick up the envelope and press it to me.

  Teddy offers us a close-lipped grin and then takes his leave.

  “Right, well.” I suck in a breath. “I guess I’ll pull the car around so that we can cause another traffic jam.”

  “You’re not going to read it?” Matt asks.

  “Not right here.” I stuff the envelope in my back pocket. I feel too exposed here. Maybe it’s the idea that perhaps Teddy had been checking me out after all that makes me uneasy. I don’t know. Will hasn’t been gone a week.

  God, this is all so confusing.

  I notice that Matt’s stare could burn an ant alive.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not backing out of my promise. I’ll read you the clue and you can come with me on the next one. I didn’t leave you out on the sidewalk or in the car, did I?”

  “So you haven’t escalated to the level of abusing cripples. Whoop-dee-doo.” But even with his head tilted down, I can see the faintest smile threatening to p
eel open the seams on his perpetual scowl. “Hurry back.”

  I do. I speed walk to the van, my hands trembling slightly as I work to jab the key into the ignition. The clue in my pocket feels like a bomb waiting to go off. Another stop. Another memory. The same Will? I don’t want everything to change. But since the accident it’s as though I can feel the ground gradually shifting underneath me. One way or another, things are going to.

  I pull the van around the corner close to the curb and turn on the hazards. To my surprise, when I return, Matt is actually talking to the hostess.

  “A total shoo-in.” His eyes twinkle up at her. “You know, I don’t get out much, but as far as I’m concerned, I bet they’d put your face on the cover.”

  “There’s a cover?” She kneels down so that she can be on the same level as Matt.

  “Of course. Hair, makeup, wardrobe, the whole works. I bet they even let you keep the clothes. Is that a thing girls care about?”

  “Um, yeah!” She claps her hands. “Are you kidding me?”

  “A-hem.” I scoot closer. I raise my eyebrows at Matt, who swallows a grin and slides his glance sideways toward the door. I smile and thank the hostess, and I get the sense that she feels very proud for having entertained the boy in the wheelchair while he waited.

  I lean close to his ear as I push the chair out of the restaurant. “What, is there some kind of moratorium on relentlessly mocking that you’re observing, or were you just that enamored with Miss Taterelli’s over there?”

  “Oh no,” Matt whispers back. “No moratorium. It’s not my fault she actually believes that there’s a contest for the most interesting food service employee and that she should enter it. She asked where to find an application.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh.

  Teddy and Antonio reappear to carry Matt down the stairs, and the loading of Matt into the van goes much more smoothly than the unloading. We ride in silence past the empty tourist shops that sell beach towels and sand buckets while the envelope containing the second clue rests conspicuously on the center console, waiting to be opened.