“Hey, girl! Get in here and taste this. I’m sure I’m doing something wrong, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what it is. Too much cinnamon, maybe?”
I take in the state of the kitchen, my stomach turning to lead. My mother has, apparently, been baking. Dishes are stacked up in the sink and scattered around the counter, mingled with trays and trays of cookies and cakes. Every surface is covered. And in the middle of this mess, her hair tied up in a disheveled bun, flour streaked across her face, is my mother.
“This batch was better,” she goes on, ignoring the fact that I haven’t responded. “I think it’s because I used cardamom. I always say, cardamom is like magic in the right doses. Then again, it could be ginger…” She trails off, muttering softly to herself.
I’m afraid I’m going to throw up. There’s a frantic energy to her movements, to the way she’s talking. Just the fact that she’s awake right now, well after midnight, baking, is nearly enough to panic me.
She’s getting manic again.
I’ve been dreading this since she started getting out of bed every day, this other end of her mood swings, this aspect of her condition that scares me more than anything. It had been a long while since she’d displayed the symptoms, and stupidly I had hoped that we might stay lucky.
“It’s pretty late for baking, Mom,” I say, hoping with all my heart that maybe she just had a burst of energy tonight. “You should probably take a break until tomorrow.”
“Later, later,” she says, darting around the kitchen to grab first a bowl, then a measuring cup. “I need to get this right first.”
I sit down at the table, staring as she whispers to herself, adding and stirring and tasting. There’s no point in trying to get her to stop. She won’t sleep when she’s like this. I’ve seen her go days without sleeping during her manic episodes. Trying to make her go lie down would be fruitless. Of course, I can’t go to bed either, not when she’s like this.
I’m exhausted in this moment, watching her. I have no idea what’s going to come next, where she’ll go from here. Usually she’s just kind of frantic for a while, really hyper and active, and then she calms down. Other times, it gets bad. Sometimes really bad.
Suddenly I wish I could call Taylor back. Wish he could come and pick me up and take me far away. Not back to the party, not to his apartment—somewhere so far I wouldn’t be able to help her if I tried. I don’t want to know what happens tomorrow, don’t want to know what the ending of this particular story is. I just want to go. Just want it not to be my problem, my life, not anymore.
But, of course, I can’t do that. All I can do is sit at the table and watch as my mother adds ingredients to her batter, stirring and tasting, struggling to find the magic combination that will make everything come out right in the end.
Chapter Nineteen
Taylor
“This is the big emergency?” Fred looks at me, incredulous. “You called me over here in a panic because you need help with a car?”
We’re standing in the middle of the shop where I work, staring at the Jeep in the center of the floor. I wouldn’t say I called Fred in a panic, but I am stressing about this vehicle—stressing a lot.
“It’s not just a car,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair. “It’s for Zoe.”
“Shit, man.” Fred eyes the Jeep. “You got her a car? That’s a pretty big deal, isn’t it?”
“I bought it off Carl for a steal. Someone turned it in for parts, but he’s too slammed to get to it.”
“So you bought it.”
“Yeah, with the intention of fixing it up for her. She needs wheels, man. It’s not safe for her walking around all the time.”
He nods, though he’s still clearly trying to process it. It probably does seem like a pretty big deal. You don’t just buy a car for someone you’re not seriously into. But I hate how often Zoe walks the two miles to my house in the middle of the night. I know she would never accept anything outrageously expensive, but I really had gotten it cheap.
Turns out, there was a good reason for that.
“I’ve been working on all the restoration,” I say, as I walk around and open the hood. “I put a new engine in, new transmission.”
“Where are you getting the parts? Engines aren’t cheap, dude.”
“Around.” I shrug. “I’m refurbing a lot of the bigger things as I go.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I still have a shit ton of work left to do to make it drivable, and I just found out from Ellie her birthday is in a week.”
He frowns, confused. “Ellie’s birthday?”
“No, dumb ass. Zoe’s birthday.”
“Why didn’t you already know that?”
My frustration is building. I’m totally stressed about getting this done. I don’t need to play twenty questions on top of it. “According to Ellie, Zoe hates her birthday. Like, hates it. Refuses to celebrate, refuses presents.”
“So you’re responding to this information by giving her a car. Good move.”
“Dude,” I say, exasperated. “She needs a car. And Ellie tells me that she’s always trying to get Zoe to enjoy her birthday and that I should help her with that.”
He finally nods. “Well, if it was me, a car would sure help.”
“That’s the plan. And it just so happens that her birthday falls on Thursday.”
His face lights up. “You want to give it to her before Cedar Point.”
I nod. The four of us—me, Zoe, Ellie and Fred—are planning a trip to Cedar Point the next week. Fred and I had been to the roller coaster park down in Ohio a bunch of times, mostly as teenagers. We were shocked to find that neither Ellie or Zoe had been, and immediately started planning a trip to rectify that. Zoe was concerned about the cost, but I convinced her it is a necessary part of our B.A.N.S.P.
“I don’t think Cedar Point is what we would call boring ass,” she had said.
“Yeah, but it is normal shit. Normal, boring couples go there all the time.”
She had laughed and agreed and we’d been looking forward to it. But now that I knew it was also her birthday, I was determined to get the car ready in time.
“So now I have a deadline,” I tell Fred. “My original plan was to just be done when I got done. But now that I know about her birthday, I’m a little under the gun.”
To my eternal gratitude, Fred leans over the open hood. “Okay. So what do you need me to start on?”
We work for several hours straight. My boss, Carl, is letting me use the garage to store the Jeep and work on it when we’re closed. In return, I’ve agreed to take some extra shifts when he’s short. It beats the hell out of trying to do it at home where Zoe might see—or my mom might find some way to interfere. It’s cutting into my time with Zoe, but she’s been acting weird about her mom anyhow—weirder than normal. She hasn’t been spending the night much, saying her mom needs her right now. I’m trying not to let it worry me. I have enough to worry about, what with the half-finished Jeep sitting in front of me.
“Want a beer?” I ask Fred, ready for a breather.
He agrees and we go sit in the break room. I grab a beer from the mini-fridge and hand it to him.
“Thanks, man.”
We’re quiet for a moment as we both take our first sips.
“So,” he says, breaking the silence. “How’s it going with you two?”
“Good.”
He seems to be appraising me. “She doing okay with that whole Preston thing?”
I tense up. “Yeah. She was relieved nothing more happened, I think.”
He’s still watching me carefully. “You were pretty worked up that night. Haven’t seen you like that in a while.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Preston got what he deserved,” he says. “I’m with you on that. But it was surprising, that’s all. To see you so worked up over someone.”
I take another sip of beer. I think I know what he’s getting at.
/> “In fact, the only other person I’ve ever seen get such a response out of you was your brother. Watching you beat the hell out of Preston kind of felt like watching you beat the hell out of that kid in the bar.”
“Do you have a point here, Fred?”
“You like this girl. You like her a lot.”
I rub my neck, uncomfortable. “It’s supposed to be low key. For the summer, you know. Just some fun.”
He laughs loudly. “Okay, buddy. You keep telling yourself that.”
“What?”
“Oh, come on, Taylor. You are head over heels. Are you really not aware of this?”
“Shut up, dude. Who the hell talks like that, anyhow?”
“The friend of a guy who is clearly falling for a chick.”
“You sound like a girl.” I shove his arm and feel a surge of satisfaction when he has to catch himself from falling out of his chair. “I have fun with her, okay? She’s not fake, and she likes to party. And she’s totally hot. It doesn’t have to be a bigger deal than that.”
He shakes his head. “Uh huh. Like I said, keep telling yourself that.”
It’s weird; there’s a part of me that wants to tell him the truth. That I think about Zoe from the time I wake up till the time I go to bed. I want to tell him all the things that make her special, different from the other girls we know. I want to tell him how she gets me, how she doesn’t judge. And how that makes me feel better about myself than I have in years.
But dudes don’t talk about shit like that.
“Jeremy,” he says, his voice taking on an edge of seriousness. Aside from my parents, he’s the only person who still calls me by my real name. “It’s okay, man. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
I look at him and realize that I don’t have to tell him any of it. He knows. I’m not sure how, but he knows.
“I think I’m in love with her.” It comes out in a rush. I hadn’t intended to say it, hadn’t even ever said it to myself, not straight up like that, but somehow I’m so relieved that it’s out there.
“I know you are, man.”
We’re both quiet for a minute, staring at the break room table. “You think Jim would have liked her?” I wince when I say it. I make it a practice never to say his name, not if I can help it. The sound of it always slices through me like a knife. But, somehow, saying it to Fred right now is okay.
He laughs a little, the sound sad. “I think he would have been over the moon to see you with her. To know someone made you this happy. He would have been fucking tickled pink.”
He’s right. Jim was always comfortable with the emotional stuff, way more than me. When he fell for Sarah, he was never embarrassed about it, never too cool to tell everyone just how he felt.
Thinking about Sarah makes me sick. I should have done a better job helping her. My brother would kick my ass if he could see her. I shake my head, trying to dispel the image of his face mired in disappointment. Suddenly, I yearn for whiskey, for vodka, for pot—anything I can take to turn numb.
“Jeremy,” Fred says. “You okay?”
I rub my damp palms across my knees. I promised Zoe I’d cool it with that stuff. But how am I supposed to get the image of his face out of my head without it? Especially without her here.
“Tell me about Zoe,” Fred says. I get the feeling he knows exactly what’s happening in my fucked up head and is trying to pull me out of it. I take a deep breath. Maybe it will help.
“She has this tough-girl thing going, you know? Like she doesn’t need anyone or anything. But with me she’s…she’s different.”
Just like that, I feel better. My heart slows down, my breathing returns to normal. I picture Zoe’s face and do my best to hold on to the image. “She’s funny, and she’s really damn smart. And she always tells me what she means. No fucking games.”
“Have you shown her your stuff?” he asks.
“Yeah. She’s really into it, especially the 3-D stuff. She wants to go with us if we go back to Clarksville this year.”
“Let’s do that,” he says. “We should definitely do that.”
“We should.” I’ve been sort of hoping he’d bully me into it again this year like he had last summer. How stupid is that? I’m a grown-ass man and I need my best friend to give me the okay to do the shit I want to do anyhow. I shake my head. I’m so fucked up.
Not to her, I remind myself. Not to Zoe. And it’s true; I might have screwed up just about every other relationship in my life, basically ruined my parents’ lives, let my brother down, even hurt Fred by not being able to save Jim. But Zoe was the one person I’d never let down. The one person I had never hurt.
I was going to make damn sure to keep it that way.
***
The day we’re set to go to Cedar Point, I get to Zoe’s house ten minutes early. I was way too keyed up to stay in my apartment for another minute. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I give her the birthday present.
I know she won’t appreciate me knocking at eight a.m., so I send her a text instead, letting her know I’m outside but she doesn’t need to hurry. The front door opens about thirty seconds later, and she waves at me before running down the lawn.
“Were you waiting for me?” I ask after she leans over to give me a kiss hello.
“Just ready to get on the road.”
“So, here’s the thing about that.” I look at her, trying to gauge how she’ll react. “We need to make a stop first.”
“A stop? I thought Fred was all anal about getting down there by the time the park opens.”
“Yeah, but he said it’s okay. Because I have something for you and you might want it before we leave.”
She looks immediately suspicious. “What kind of thing?”
“First of all, I want you to remember that Ellie loves you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “She told you what day it is, didn’t she?”
I grin at her. “Come on, she just wants to make sure you have a nice day.” Her scowl is absolutely adorable, but her eyes narrow at the first sign I’m about to laugh so I try to hold it in.
“I hope you didn’t get me a present. I hate birthday presents.”
“She may have mentioned that, too. But it’s okay, because I was actually planning on giving you this anyhow. The birthday thing was just an excuse to get it ready faster.”
“Get what ready faster?”
“Will you come somewhere with me?”
She looks at me for a long moment. Just when I think she’s going to refuse, she relents. “Fine. I’ll come with you.”
As I start up the car, I’m really freaking excited about my surprise. I’ve been working on it almost nonstop ever since I had the idea, sometimes skipping my lunch hours and enlisting both Fred and Everett to help. I hope she likes it. More than that, I hope she accepts it without getting weird about it. It’s a big present, and I know how she can get about things she deems a big deal.
By the time we get to the shop, I’m almost more nervous than excited. My hands are actually shaking as I unbuckle my seat belt, and my palms are slick with sweat.
“The surprise is at your shop?” she asks, looking at me with curiosity. Her eyes suddenly gleam. “Are we about to fulfill your fantasy of having sex on the hood of a car? Sorry, babe. Axle grease really doesn’t do it for me.”
I laugh weakly and motion for her to get out. She follows me to the door of the shop, and I focus on taking deep breaths.
“Seriously, Taylor. What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”
I get the door open and turn to face her. “I just…I really want you to like this. I don’t want you to freak out or anything. Can you just remember that I did this because I want to?”
Great, now she’s starting to look nervous. I take a deep breath, grab her hand, and turn on the lights. The Jeep is sitting in the middle of the shop floor, all polished and gleaming the way I left it. As her eyes scan the room, passing right over her actual present, I realiz
e I should have put one of those huge bows on it, like you see in commercials. Not that I would know where to get a bow like that. But Zoe definitely deserves a bow.
“What is it?” she asks.
Unable to speak, I point at the Jeep, watching as her eyes follow my finger.
She stares at it for a minute, not speaking, then turns to look at me instead. “What?”
“I, uh, restored that for you. The Jeep, I mean.”
Her mouth drops open in a perfect little “O.” “Wait. Are you telling me you got me a car? Like, you bought me a car?”
I can’t get a read on her reaction. Is she mad? Overwhelmed? Confused? I decide it’s time for damage control. “Not really. I mean, yeah, I bought it off Carl. But someone had turned it in for parts. It’s not like it was a lot of money or anything. Then I did all the labor. So it’s not really a huge deal—”
“You did the labor? You rebuilt it?”
I scratch the back of my neck, regretting the way I had presented this to her. She’s definitely going to freak out.
“Yeah. Honestly, though, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
Suddenly she jumps into my arms, and I’m stumbling backwards with the force of her enthusiasm. “Taylor,” she gasps, and I hug her back, caught off guard. “Thank you.”
A wave of relief rushes through me. “You like it?”
Her mouth against my ear, she whispers, “Are you kidding me? This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. Seriously.”
I tighten my hold around her and rest my cheek on the top of her head. “I was afraid you were going to freak out.”
She pulls back to look at me. “I am freaking out. This is incredible.”
I know I have the goofiest grin on my face, but I can’t really make myself care about that. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Like I said, I did the labor myself—”
“That’s the incredible part,” she says, and I realize her eyes are wet. “This must have been hours of work for you.”
“I just don’t want you walking around by yourself in the dark anymore. I want you safe.”
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