The Memory Book

by Lara Avery

  Please don’t yell, I said

  Take it out on me, Coop said, come on, bring it again

  Don’t do that! Don’t do that, I said and stepped between them

  We can talk, I said, when the details began to hit me

  Stuart was breathing heavy

  Why? he asked

  I didn’t answer

  What were you thinking?

  Why?

  Why did you do this?

  Because we have feelings for each other, Cooper answered

  I asked Sammie, Stuart said

  I don’t know, I said

  And of all the people to do this with, it’s the guy who you called a dumbshit? Stuart asked and pointed at Coop

  What? Coop said looking at me, wiping blood from his face in a long red smear

  Yeah, the pothead who you told me got kicked off the baseball team

  Coop narrowed his eyes at me and asked me if I’d told Stuart about freshman year

  Yes, but not on purpose, I told him

  You told HIM something I told you not to tell anyone

  And the way Coop was hunched over and looking at me, I’ll never forget

  Like I had broken his neck

  Like he had put his heart out for me and I had smashed it

  He didn’t need to say it, we were both remembering that day he told me he got kicked off the team, and how hard I had tried to keep it out of my eyes, but he could sense it, and he had said, please don’t judge me

  But I did, and he could feel it

  So it wasn’t the day he asked me out on the date, and it wasn’t the day Coop didn’t show up to help me babysit

  The day we stopped being friends was the day he made a mistake, and the day I had looked down on him for it

  And now he was looking at me like he was about to return the favor

  What the hell is this, Stuart asked nobody

  Fuck you man, Coop said

  I tried to take Cooper’s hand but he pulled it away, slick as a fish, and walked away

  I think you’re better than this, Stuart said to me

  He sat down on the ground and said, You’re selfish, I know that now

  Maybe it’s not your fault

  But you are selfish

  You kept your sickness from me because it was easier for you, you decided to break up with me because it was easier for you, and you slept with this asshole because it was easier for you

  It’s hard for me to know you this way, the way you are now

  I was never anyone but myself, I said, I’m sorry for what I did, but it’s true

  Then I didn’t really know you, he said, and I don’t want to know you

  Stuart stayed where he was until Mom picked me up

  Coop left without saying good-bye

  Now Coop hasn’t responded to my messages in four days

  Except to say “maybe you should be with your family and your boyfriend and think about things”

  Stuart needs some space, he told me

  I don’t need any space from anyone

  I just need Coop to say something to me

  Anything to me

  Even if it’s just good-bye

  BIG WORLD

  Had a couple of blank days. Just wandering around, muttering. I don’t know how to tell the difference between NPC and just pure sadness. The lack of getting out of bed is the same. The heavy white space of my brain is the same. So is waking up in the middle of the night, wondering what’s happening, what went wrong.

  Mom and Dad tell me I should forget about Coop and Stuart for now, both of them, and be positive. Coop would be back, they tell me. They also said that neither of them, nor anyone for that matter, could have “fully realized what I was going through.” I did, though. I knew what I was doing and wanted to do and felt all those things. Maybe I knew all along that I was trying to speed up before I slowed down.

  I just didn’t know that slowing down would feel so good. I also didn’t know how much it would hurt. Or maybe I did know and I just did it anyway.

  Now Mom and Dad stay home from work.

  I recorded them talking at dinner the other night, after everyone else had gone to sleep. They were telling me about how they met.

  MARK MCCOY, 45, AND GIA TURLOTTE MCCOY, 42, TRANSCRIBED AUDIO RECORDING:

  Mom: We were working at the ski resort after high school graduation. Dad went to West Leb, I went to Hanover.

  Dad: And there was this five-star cutie running the coffee stand.

  Mom: And you didn’t even drink coffee!

  Dad: I started that summer just to have an excuse to talk to (makes rainbow hand motion) Gia.

  Mom: Anyway…

  Dad: So. We’re crazy about each other. Can’t get enough. We move to New York City after six months. Guess what I wanted to be? Sammie will never guess.

  Mom: I’m actually curious if you’ll guess this, Sammie. Not a city maintenance guy.

  Sammie: A clown?

  Mom: What? Ew.

  Sammie: Just tell me.

  Dad: I wanted to be (makes air guitar strum) a punk rocker. I even lived in Brooklyn, back when it was cheap and dirty.

  Mom: So I moved there with him shortly after but the city is cruel and we could never stay long in one borough, let alone one apartment, for one reason or another. We didn’t have real jobs and we weren’t sure we wanted them.

  Sammie: But living in New York together must have been fun.

  Mom: Mmm. We were always so sad. And when we got sad we were too dependent on each other.

  Dad: And then that cat ran away.

  Mom: Our buffer cat.

  Sammie: What?

  Mom: We found a sweet little cat and gave it milk and whenever one of us was mad at the other we would find the cat and give it to the other as a peace offering.

  Dad: It was an ugly feral cat. Let’s be real.

  Mom: But it always worked to calm either of us down.

  Dad: That buffer cat was our only friend. We couldn’t find a real community. We ended up hating it there because we hated the selves we had turned into.

  Mom (in a fake punk rocker voice): Smokin’, drinkin’, stealin’ records.

  Dad: Your mom worked in a movie theater and we used to steal popcorn from the concession stand for dinner.

  Mom: I stole the popcorn.

  Dad: Yes, yes, Gia stole the popcorn.

  Mom: Anyway, we had this huge fight. Like a massive, massive fight. I still can’t believe it.

  Sammie: What was it about?

  Dad: Hmmm, nothing.

  Mom: I can’t remember, either.

  Dad: And the cat was nowhere to be found.

  Mom: Oh god, Sammie, your dad looked everywhere for that thing. He was gone for three days straight, only coming home for some food, and then he’d be back out again.

  Dad: And the worst part about it was the cat had no name. So I was just yelling, “Kitty! Kitty!” hoping it would come out.

  Sammie: Why didn’t you name it?

  Mom: You know what I think?

  Dad: What? I’d actually be curious to hear that.

  Mom: I think we secretly didn’t name it because we knew it wasn’t ours. Like we didn’t want it to be ours, because that meant we were there permanently.

  Dad: All I know is… (eyes well up)

  Sammie: Aw, Dad!

  Dad: That stupid cat made me realize that I wanted to marry Mom. And that I wanted to have children with her. You know, out on the streets of Brooklyn for three days, and you ask yourself, what are you doing here? And you realize… (sniffs)

  Mom: He just wanted someone to love. People to care for.

  Sammie: So you came back?

  Mom: He wrote a lot of songs about that cat.

  Sammie: I want to hear Dad’s punk rock songs.

  Dad (composing himself): So anyway, we came back and settled here, among familiar faces.

  Sammie: Wait, wait, going back. Is that why you named Puppy just Puppy?

  Dad (buries h
is face in Puppy’s fur): Yuuuusss.

  Mom: Let’s see… when we got back and moved into this place, Cooper’s mom and dad were here, and Father Frank was just Frank, he hadn’t gone to seminary school yet, and Mrs. T was working at a preschool actually…

  Sammie: Mrs. T?!

  Mom: Beverly, yeah.

  Dad: It was strange at first, so tight with people we knew but so much space at the same time.

  Mom: But your dad got a job right away because he knew a guy working for the City of Lebanon, and that gave me time to get my associate’s degree, and then you came along! I mean, I wonder, Sammie, with all of your talk about getting out… You think we only stay in the Upper Valley because we don’t have enough money to leave?

  Sammie: I don’t know. I guess so.

  Mom: We’re lucky to be here. Maybe it’s because the mountains are bigger than everyone, they give people perspective. Listen, you can go anywhere you want, you can conquer the world, you could have gone to New York and been incredibly successful, and I know you would have been. (breaks in voice, sniffing) But the more you win, the more people you might have to beat out, or have to leave behind, the smaller your world becomes.

  Dad: That’s absolutely right.

  Mom (points out to the yard, to the mountain): We’ve got a big world here, Sammie.

  Sammie: I know. I know now.

  A LETTER I HAVEN’T SENT

  Dear Coop,

  I might forget some words so just read as you go and try to make sense. First I’m sorry Stuart punched you. I hope your nose and mouth are okay. I haven’t been able to think of much else since the other morning. I mean, more than just your nose and mouth, but you do have a very handsome nose and mouth and I hope they are not destroyed.

  Most of all I hope our friendship isn’t destroyed. Remember the day we became friends? It was probably when we were five or four. I saw you a lot and I remember staring at your hair because you had the loudest color hair I had ever seen and you were always naked running around in your yard. Maybe not the right moment but there was a time when you had run all the way from your house to see how far the garden hose could go. You ran all the way yanking the green hose and right when you got to our yard you stopped. I think I was probably catching those little yellow butterflies between two cups like I often did. Anyway I looked up and there you were holding the hose, pulling it, trying to get it to go farther but it wouldn’t budge. So you set it down and ran away back to your house. You left the hose and I just stared at it and all of a sudden water started trickling out of the end. It was magic. I had no idea how you did it or if it was you that even did it. I walked up closer to the hose and watched the water flow out, harder and harder, and then you came running back. You were laughing because it was amazing. You picked up the hose and waved it around and I went and jumped in the water with you and I think we played together ever since.

  I’ve been wondering where that person was for the last four years when we could have been friends. The person who noticed little things like that and thought they were special. I was so busy thinking about how I could be better than everyone that I stopped seeing anyone else at all. I thought I knew what I needed and perhaps I did need some of it. I am happy I worked so hard in school. I am happy I got to be in debate and give a speech. But now what does that mean? What about the space between the things I checked off my list? What about when the list has to get thrown out?

  What I mean is we could have had four thousand and sixty days instead of just fourteen or seven or the six hours we had by the Potholes. I will be sorry for the rest of my life if we can’t have any more days together.

  I’m sorry I told your secret. I don’t judge you, and I don’t think I’m better than you, and anyone who thinks they are can suck it. I was trying to be a better version of myself but didn’t care who I was stepping on to get there. I was trying to pretend I had a future that would never exist, and never will. But I would have rather gone back and had you with me, no matter what my future was.

  I’ve lived with you right now and those right nows are everywhere, every time, in my house, in your house, on the mountain.

  I love you. Home is where love is. You’re my home.

  Sammie

  PS And I don’t think you’re a dumbshit

  PPS At least not all the time

  STUART SHAH, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

  Stuart and I met in the early morning before he caught a bus back to New York. He came over and we sat on the plastic lawn chairs. He was wearing all gray again, a stuffed backpack strapped to his back. The echolocation between us was gone, replaced with a sort of pillow that seemed to muffle everything. I took tea, he took coffee, and we looked at each other with puffy eyes. He came on a good day.

  “You look nice,” Stuart said.

  “Don’t lie,” I said, and smiled at him with a mouth that didn’t go all the way up on one side.

  “I’m not,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

  I did not expect him to be so civil. But I guess he had gotten all his anger out. “I’m okay. How are you?”

  “Back to the city life.”

  “I’m happy for you,” I said.

  “You shouldn’t be,” Stuart said, almost bitter.

  There it was, the anger. “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I said it before and I still mean it: I’m sorry for what I did.”

  “It still baffles me,” Stuart said. “How far I was willing to go for you, and you threw it away.”

  “I never…” I searched for this word, I remember, and was embarrassed. “I never understood why you were willing to give me yourself so fully without knowing me that well.”

  “I like you! I was trying to do the right thing!”

  “I know. And I like you, too. That was always true.”

  “Maybe you liked the idea of me.” He did the thing in the air, where he pointed at nothing. “You liked the idea that you had always wanted me, and now you had me, and you liked that I was going to be a powerful writer.”

  “Mm…” I said.

  “Admit it.”

  “That was part of it. But there’s more, too. The part of you that reads poetry out loud when you’re drunk and pets every dog. And then another part of you I just straight up wanted… to…”

  He waved his hand. “I get it.”

  “So prudish these days!”

  He burst into a laugh, but it didn’t last long. “These days! It’s been a week.”

  I had to keep joking or else I would lose it. I had hurt this person beside me, I could feel it in the air, just as I used to feel his connection to me. And I had hurt myself. I wished I could take it all back, but I had wished that so many times in the last few months the words meant nothing to me anymore. I had no tears left.

  “It feels like forever.”

  “Because you want me back?” Stuart said. I couldn’t tell if he meant it. He was still looking down the mountain.

  “Why, do you want me back?” I teased.

  “I don’t know about that. Not that you aren’t… I just…” he said.

  “I was joking. I wasn’t easy. Even before NPC.”

  “You will be the first and last girl that I will ever let drag me into a boyfriend/girlfriend conversation over goddamn text message. You have the patience of a goldfish.”

  I spit back, “Yeah, no duh.”

  “Oh! Well!”

  Mom walked out in her clogs, threw a towel over one of the empty chairs, and walked back in.

  Stuart put his chin in his hands. “It was just… terrible timing.”

  “Ha!” I let out. “Preaching to the… the, uh…”

  “Choir.”

  “Choir,” I echoed.

  He exhaled. “I guess I’ll just say it. My agent dropped me. That’s why I was in New York.” He stared at the ground.

  “Oh.”

  “I hadn’t done a single page of writing while I was here.”

  “I’m so sorry.” So that’s why he
never wanted to talk about what he was working on. His future didn’t exist as he thought it did, either. “What about the piece you wrote for Mariana Oliva?”

  “That was old. Already published in a tiny journal in Portland.”

  I looked at him, his head lowered. Stuart continued. Apparently, he only went to New York to beg his publisher not to cancel his contract. He was so ashamed.

  And he shouldn’t have lied to me, he said.

  “It’s okay, Stu,” I told him. “Are you writing again?”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I remember the story you read with Mari’s piece, and the ones that had gotten picked up before this. I even reread a few recently, even after you and I fought, and the stories still struck me. You’re talented.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Stuart muttered.

  I almost laughed. “Remember how young you are? There’s a reason you’re doing what you’re doing. You’ve got to keep going.”

  Finally, a smile. A real smile. The first one I had seen on him in a long time that lit up his dark eyes.

  “You can argue with me all you want, you can give me excuses, but you know I’ll win,” I told him, smiling back.

  “I know,” he said.

  The words hardly came from my mouth, more from my chest, exploding. “I wanted to give more to you, to everyone, I just didn’t know how,” I said. Stuart’s eyes filled up, and so did mine. “I am learning how to be less selfish now, I really am. I just want you to know that, even if it’s too late.”

  “You don’t have to be anything right now except yourself.”

  “Sometimes myself is too much to handle.” My lower lip was shaking. “I wanted everything all at once.”

  Stuart reached for my hand, like he always used to. I felt the sobs subside a bit. “You have a terrible disease. Smaller things have turned people into ego monsters.”

  I let out a laugh.

  He added, “Being born turns people into ego monsters.”

  We laughed together, in between sniffs.

  He stood up, helped me stand, and we faced each other. We hugged for a long time, ribs shaking against each other as we wet each other’s shoulders, and I moved my fingers to his spine.

  He looked at the time.