The Last Words We Said

by Leah Scheier

  “And you never will?”

  I shake my head. “I say the same prayer every Shabbat. And every holiday. I pray that they’ll find you and bring you home. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.”

  He doesn’t seem pleased. I step closer to him, but he begins to edge away; he ducks his head and his hair falls forward, blocking his eyes. “What if God never answers you?” he asks.

  “He will. God always answers our prayers.”

  “Does He?”

  I take another step toward him, but he scoots back, like he’s trying to escape me.

  “Rabbi Garner says that our prayers are always answered,” I explain. “We just can’t see the big picture, so we think God’s ignoring us. But He isn’t.”

  Danny leans forward. “What if this is the big picture? What if this is the closest I ever get to you?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’m serious. Haven’t you asked yourself how long this can go on? How long am I going to be Schrödinger’s cat?”

  “What?”

  “Remember that thought experiment we learned in physics? The cat in the poisoned box—the one whose fate no one knows. So, he’s both dead and alive at the same time.”

  “Stop it. We both know that you’re alive—”

  “You know,” he says. “You’re the only one who still believes.”

  I start to retreat, but he advances suddenly and backs me into a corner. His eyes flash, and his lips curl into a smile. I barely recognize him now; it’s like a demon has possessed the boy I love.

  “Maybe I’m just a tiny bit dead,” he muses. “In your mind. And this is what doubt looks like.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  He cuts my protest off with a cruel laugh. “Perfect faith, my ass.” His voice is biting, shrill and bitter. He’s never spoken to me like this before. “You don’t really believe I’m coming back.”

  “I do. I do—”

  “Then why aren’t you honest with your friends? If you really believe that I’m okay, why won’t you tell them what really happened that night?”

  “What do you mean?” I duck my head to avoid his eyes. “Everyone knows what happened. You left the party. It was sleeting, and your car skidded into the bridge railing.”

  “Not that part. Before. Why don’t you tell them what happened before? Why don’t you tell them why I left the party?”

  I’m struggling to catch my breath; his voice is like a hand to my throat. “I can’t. Danny, you know I can’t. I can’t tell them that.”

  His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. “Yeah? Well, I don’t want to keep your secret anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smirks at me. “Aren’t these the days of repentance? That’s what this holiday is about, right? So why aren’t you repenting? Why are you out here with me?”

  “You told me to come out—”

  “If it weren’t for you, I’d be sitting inside next to my father right now.”

  I flinch and shut my eyes. But no matter how hard I squeeze, I can’t block him out.

  “Have you ever thought about that, Ellie? Have you?”

  “Yes! I think about it every day—” Tears stream down my cheeks.

  “Tell my father what you did,” he whispers in my ear. “Tell Rae and Deenie what really happened.”

  “I can’t,” I sob. “Please, Danny.”

  “You have to believe, don’t you, Ellie?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I do come back, no one has to know, right? You’ll never need to tell anyone that story.”

  “Is that what you want from me? You think that if I just tell Rae and Deenie what happened—”

  There’s a clicking sound behind me, and my eyes fly open. Deenie is standing there, staring at me, with a shocked expression. I look around for Danny, but he’s disappeared; all I can hear is the moaning wind whining through the open windows.

  “Don’t say anything,” I warn her as I wipe my wet cheeks with my sleeve. “Please don’t.”

  She hesitates and takes a tentative step toward me. “I heard my name. What were you saying about me?”

  Oh God, how loud had I been? I wonder. “How much did you hear?”

  Deenie studies my face for a moment before answering. “Were you talking to Danny just now?”

  I nod, and she reaches out to take my hand. “Oh. It really didn’t sound like him.”

  I stare at her openmouthed. “You heard him? How? How could you hear—”

  “Ellie, I haven’t heard his voice since New Year’s. What I meant was you didn’t sound like you were talking to Danny. He always used to make you happy.”

  I realize that she’s right, but I can’t admit that—not out loud. I’m still shaking from his awful words, and it’s hard to keep my voice steady when I speak. “He does make me happy. I was just missing him, that’s all.”

  She doesn’t appear to believe me, but at least she doesn’t argue. “If you want, I can stay with you out here until you’re ready to go back inside.”

  I take a deep breath. “I’m ready now.”

  “Really?” She pulls a tissue from her pocket. “You sure?”

  I nod and turn toward the sanctuary. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  I’m really not. But I don’t want to stay back in the empty foyer alone. I’m terrified that Danny’s going to come back.

  THE BOY BEHIND THE BLANKET (OR, MY FIRST KISS)

  There were a few ground rules that Danny and I established at the beginning of our relationship. Besides the shomer thing, I was determined to follow Rae’s example and not do anything to mess up the dynamic of our happy quartet. “We’re not going to be that couple that drops their friends the moment they start dating,” I told him. “I don’t want Deenie and Rae to feel that anything has changed.”

  At first it was the easiest thing in the world. Danny and I didn’t touch, so there was no annoying PDA to irritate our friends. In front of them, we were pretty much the same as always.

  Except… there were only so many hours in the day. And since most of them were split between school, friends, and sleep, something had to give.

  School was not negotiable, and as far as we were concerned, neither were our friends. So sleep became optional.

  Danny would leave my house with Deenie and Rae when it was time for bed. And after they parted ways, he’d double back and scale the tree outside my window. And our late-night dates would begin.

  Nobody suspected at first. We kept our voices low and turned out the lights so my parents would think I’d gone to bed. And we never told anyone that Danny was sneaking home at two a.m. every night. We managed to fool even Deenie, who complimented me on our healthy relationship.

  “It’s so easy to get carried away,” she told me. “I’m so glad you guys are keeping things casual.”

  I smiled at the compliment, but I couldn’t help the pang of guilt that followed. Because I knew that half an hour later Danny and I were going to be alone together. And there would be nothing casual about my dark bedroom, the flashlight under my blanket, and the whispered promises of the boy I was falling in love with.

  “I’m not even tired,” Danny declared one night. We’d been surviving on four hours of sleep for days. “What about you?”

  “I’m a little tired,” I admitted. “But it’s worth it.”

  He smiled. “Do your parents suspect?”

  I laughed, and the blanket over our heads shivered like a tent in a storm. “They don’t even know that we’re dating,” I said. “So they have no reason to be suspicious.”

  He wrinkled his brow and leaned closer to me. “But I want them to know. I want everyone to know.”

  I punched him playfully. It was our only loophole—one that we’d made up for ourselves, based loosely on actual rules. I was allowed to touch him if it wasn’t a romantic gesture. There weren’t many ways to touch someone non-romantically, so I ended up punching him a lot. He
seemed to like it, but then, it was the only action he was getting.

  “Come on. You haven’t told your dad.”

  “Sure I did,” he protested. “And he’s known for weeks that I wanted to ask you out.”

  I was about to ask him what his dad thought when I was distracted by a gentle weight on my knee.

  We both looked down at the same time. His hand had come to rest on top of the blanket, which was covering my leg. I jumped, and he pulled back, an apology on his lips.

  “It’s okay,” I assured him. “It doesn’t really count, right? Your hand was on the blanket.”

  He paused, and a mischievous little smile dawned. “Wait. It doesn’t count?”

  I hesitated. I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my knee. It was making me giddy, plucking at my convictions, begging me to bend the rules and embrace the desire coursing through me.

  “I—I don’t think so. We weren’t actually touching, right?”

  His eyes sparkled as he lifted my blanket and held it up between us. “Interesting,” he said, examining the threadbare edges. “So many possibilities. I wonder what I can do with this.” He shook it out and placed it carefully around my shoulders. “There,” he said, pulling me close. “So I can actually hug you now?” he asked. “That’s okay, right? As long as I only touch the blanket?” I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t intended to open Pandora’s box. But there was no going back now.

  “I guess so,” I told him. “If it’s through a blanket—you can hug me.”

  I was already wrapped in his arms. It was the thinnest of covers, and I could feel everything through it, the rise and fall of his chest, the sinews of his thin arms, the tickle of his hair on my neck.

  Wait—I wasn’t supposed to be feeling that, I realized with a start. I glanced down and saw that the cover had slipped off my shoulders and his cheek was resting on its edge. I wriggled one arm out and lifted the blanket to my lips. His eyes widened, and he took a deep breath. “Really? That’s okay too?” he whispered.

  My smile answered him. And then his lips were pressed against mine, with only a thin piece of cloth between.

  My first kiss was through fabric. It was just a tease. My second was just on the edge, as I tugged at the barrier between us. It was close to perfect.

  The third one was the real thing. His lips met mine.

  It was like an answered prayer.

  Danny murmured, “Just one more, okay? Just one.” And kissed me again. And again. “One more?” he repeated. “Last one. And then we’ll pick up the blanket. I promise.” But the blanket had vanished along with my inhibitions. I smoothed his tousled hair away from his face and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “Just one more,” I echoed. “Just one.” And then we stopped counting.

  Chapter 17

  We go back to school a couple of days after Rosh Hashanah, and I’m worried that Danny will suddenly appear in the middle of class and freak me out again. But I don’t see him until my appointment at Nina’s, and he’s perfectly respectful and pleasant as he accompanies me into her garage office. He doesn’t even speak as she greets me, just perches cross-legged on the ottoman and quietly studies the weird bric-a-brac on her desk.

  “It’s okay if you want to cut our hours,” I tell her evenly. “I think I’m ready.”

  You can do whatever you want with Danny’s curfew, I think, as she beams at me proudly. He’s not going to listen to you anyway. And neither am I.

  To my surprise, she doesn’t take me up on it, doesn’t even mention the rules. Instead, she asks me about the project I’m doing.

  “I feel like I’m connecting to other people through their stories about Danny,” I tell her. That, at least, is true. Word has gotten around, and now people are seeking me out to add to my collection. One girl even stopped me on the street to submit her entry. Many of the tales are whimsical and silly, and some are clearly exaggerated for effect, but each gives me a shade more information about the boy I love.

  She nods thoughtfully. “And who have you interviewed so far?”

  “Rae and Deenie. Ms. Baker. A few classmates. That’s it. The holidays got in the way.”

  “I see. And what about Mr. Edelstein?”

  I steal a glance at Danny to see his reaction. He doesn’t even appear to be listening. He’s pulled out his phone and is scrolling through my Instagram page. “I’m not in any of these pictures,” he mutters under his breath.

  How did he get his phone back? I wonder. Last thing I heard, the police still had it in an evidence locker.

  I’m so distracted that I forget that Nina has just asked me a question. “Ellie? You with me?”

  “Sorry.” I shake my head and focus on her worried face. “No, I haven’t asked Danny’s father yet. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  I haven’t asked him because awakening those thoughts seems like a selfish thing to do, especially when I know how vulnerable he is. Anxious as I am to hear them, I’m scared that retelling those stories will only make his depression worse. He hasn’t mentioned the ECT treatment since we first talked about it, and I’m hoping that he’s put that idea behind him. But I’m afraid to say anything that will send him back to that clinic.

  “Because—” I hesitate again and look at Danny. He holds up the phone and points to a pic of me in my scarlet Shabbat dress. “Nice,” he murmurs. “Who says redheads can’t wear red?”

  I smother a smile. Cut it out, I tell him with my mind. Not here. He doesn’t seem to hear me. “Can you put that on later?” he asks with a flirty smile. “I’ve never seen you in it.”

  “Ellie?” Nina’s voice distracts me again. “You were saying?”

  I don’t remember. I have no idea what I’d been talking about before Danny interrupted. She seems to realize that I’m totally lost and prompts me with a hint. “You don’t want to ask Mr. Edelstein because—”

  “It’s not healthy for him,” Danny says.

  “It’s not healthy for him,” I echo.

  She doesn’t answer for a moment, and when she finally does, her voice is cold. “Ellie, is that your answer, or Danny’s?”

  I just smile innocently at her. What is she going to do about it? Her rules only have power over me if I let them.

  * * *

  When we get home, I instruct Danny to wait in the basement for me and then run upstairs to change into the red dress.

  Before heading out the door, I check my reflection in the mirror. He was right; the dress looks like it was made for me, despite the color. It’s tight at the waist with a flowing, floor-length skirt, a daring dip at the collar, and scalloped lace sleeves. I’d loved it when I’d tried it on at the store, but it was a bit too fancy for a regular Shabbat. So, I’d posted a pic and then put it away, and it had stayed tucked in the back of my closet until—

  Well, until Danny could see it. Deep down, I guess that’s what I’d been saving it for.

  My mother calls out to me as I’m heading down the stairs. “Deenie and Rae are here,” she says, and then stops short as I come into view. “Why are you all dressed up?”

  I realize how weird I must look, dancing around the house in evening wear on a Monday afternoon. “Deenie and Rae want to see my new dress,” I tell her, and rush down to the basement before she can ask me anything else.

  My friends’ expressions mirror my mother’s when they see me. “Wow,” Rae says. “Where’s the party?”

  I glance around the room, and my face falls. Danny isn’t there, and I feel like an idiot. I look like a girl who’s been stood up by her prom date. “I was just trying it on.”

  Deenie clears her throat and nudges Rae in the ribs. “What?” Rae snaps. “You’re the one with the stupid sign.”

  Deenie chucks a piece of white cloth behind her and shakes her head. “I don’t want to use the sign. You’re right. It’s stupid.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” I walk over and poke the crumpled sheet with my fo
ot. “What is that?”

  “We have to talk to you,” Rae declares. “Alone.”

  Her voice has an edge to it, and I’m immediately on my guard. “Okay.” This feels like the beginning of an attack, not a conversation. “What’s going on?”

  She glances around the room. “Are we alone?”

  “He isn’t here,” Deenie says softly. “Go ahead.”

  Rae appears confused. “How do you know that?”

  “I thought it was obvious.”

  “It isn’t obvious to me!” Rae retorts. “Am I the only one who hasn’t joined the Danny Dream Club?”

  “Rae, you promised you wouldn’t make jokes like that!”

  I pick up the crumpled ball of cloth on the ground and unroll it. The word “Intervention” is scrawled across it in red ink. “Are you serious, guys? Like from How I Met Your Mother?”

  “I told you it was stupid,” Rae mutters.

  “I already agreed with you!” Deenie snaps back. “I just thought it was better to start off funny—”

  “Well, there’s nothing funny about this.” Rae turns back to me. “This is the first time we’ve been alone with you in weeks, Ellie! Do you realize that?”

  I want to argue, but my mind is blank. She must be exaggerating, I think. I just can’t prove it at the moment….

  “Listen, it’s okay if you talk to him occasionally,” Deenie puts in. “Lots of people do that when they’re mourning—”

  “I’m not mourning,” I mumble.

  “But it’s become an obsession,” she continues without acknowledging my interruption. “He goes everywhere with you now.”

  “Not everywhere,” I protest. “We have a curfew.”

  “Real boyfriends should have curfews,” Rae says. “Daydreams—or hallucinations—or whatever he is—”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell her. “I’m fine. I’m still going to school, aren’t I? Getting decent grades? Hanging out with you guys?”

  “What about college applications?” Rae points out. “You haven’t even started looking.”

  I don’t want to think about college; how can I make plans like that without Danny? We’d talked about applying together before he left, but that was all on hold now. “You haven’t filled any out either,” I say.