What Happens Now

by Jennifer Castle

  “I guess it depends,” I said. “What did your letter say?”

  “I know it’s silly,” whispered Dani, her eyes following something on the ceiling. “But I asked her how to tell when people have stopped being in love with each other.”

  The Biggest Fight Ever must have been exactly that.

  “What were Mom and Richard fighting about?”

  Dani looked at me guiltily.

  “I need to know so I can apologize to them,” I lied.

  Danielle grabbed two items from her windowsill: a figurine of a fantasy wolf-creature with wings, and some miniature creepy Barbie that had come from a Happy Meal.

  She made the wolf speak in a low, deep voice that actually sounded nothing like her father’s: “‘Kate, what’s the big deal? She got a babysitter and prepaid her, for chrissake.’”

  “‘But honey,’” said Dani as my mom in a dead-on imitation, “‘she’s never gone against the rules before and it scares me.’”

  “‘You can’t control everything.’”

  “‘But I’m so busy with my great new job and I have to support us now and I’m so great and me me me! Mememememe!’”

  Danielle looked up at me. “Okay, she didn’t say that last part.” She put her toys down. “They have stopped loving each other, haven’t they?”

  Who knew. Not us. Probably not them, either.

  “I’ll be interested to see what Jasmine has to say on the topic,” I said by way of an answer. “Will you show me her letter, when it comes?”

  Danielle smiled. “Sure,” she said. “Are you confused about that stuff, too? Like with Camden?”

  I lay my head down on the pillow next to hers and looked into her clear, clear eyes.

  “Everyone’s confused about that stuff. Always.”

  “Except the fairies.”

  “Well, obviously.”

  Dani’s hand found my left wrist and she tried to circle it with her small fingers.

  “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

  “Sure,” I said, “but you know my rule. No talking.”

  She nodded, and we lay like that for a while, staring at each other until her eyelids or my eyelids shut first. It was probably a draw.

  When I woke up a little while later, the light had gone completely from the room. All I could see above me was the cracked ceiling of my sister’s room. If I unfocused my eyes, I could pretend it was the sky above Camden’s patio. But that exact sky during our exact moment would never happen again.

  Without it, it was easy to feel like the Possible had closed itself off to me. I hadn’t known what to do with it. I’d mishandled it somehow and lost my privileges.

  I sneaked out of Dani’s room and once I was back in my own room, I did the only thing that seemed like a solution anymore. I called the boy I loved. Who now knew I loved him but hadn’t said it back.

  It rang and rang and rang, until his voice mail picked up.

  I didn’t leave a message.

  When I walked into the family room the next morning, Mom was pulling a blanket off the couch. There were folded sheets and a pillow on an ottoman nearby.

  “Did Richard sleep in here?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, shaking out the blanket so it made a curt snapping noise. “I did.” She checked her watch. “Richard’s leaving for the store in about fifteen minutes, so you should get ready. With the Ribfest out at the fairgrounds, it could get busy today.”

  “Okay,” I said, then leaned against the wall. She was speaking to me. That was something. “And then what?”

  “Dinner at Moose’s,” she said. “Like always.”

  Except now with more awkward shittiness than ever.

  “I meant, like, punishment.”

  Mom dropped the folded blanket on top of the sheet. She didn’t scoop them up; I guessed she was going to leave them there for another night.

  “Oh, yes,” she said.

  “Grounded?”

  Now she looked at me and grabbed the pillow. “What do you think?”

  “Cool. I’ve never been grounded before. And it always felt like something was missing.”

  She threw the pillow onto the floor and put her hands on her hips.

  “This is no joke, Ari. What you did—”

  “Hurt nobody. I heard Dani had a super-fun day with her babysitter.”

  “Hurt nobody?” She took a step toward me, and I pressed myself against the wall. “What about me? You don’t think it hurt me that you lied and completely disregarded my judgment? That I feel like I can’t trust you anymore?”

  Her voice broke down at those last few words. She shrank back and sat on the arm of the couch. It made her seem less steady, not more.

  “When I said you couldn’t go . . . ,” she continued after taking a deep breath, “that wasn’t me being cruel for no reason. When I heard about the shoplifting and how they cajoled you into ditching your job for the day, I had a gut feeling. That feeling said, These aren’t people who are going to be good for you. Definitely not people you should go on a road trip to another state with.” She paused. “And do Silver Arrow dress-up with.”

  I suddenly remembered the pin I’d bought her. I’d never give it to her now, even if Camden was right that it didn’t matter if she wanted it or not. It would remain, forlorn and unappreciated, in its little box. Maybe I could sell it online.

  Mom must have mistaken my silence for me actually processing what she’d said, as if it were something that made sense.

  “Look,” she said, lifting herself off the arm of the couch now. “Camden seems nice. . . .”

  “Please don’t talk about Camden,” I said. “Don’t even say his name.”

  “Honey . . . I’ve been where you are. There are some things I’d undo from that time, if I could.” She paused, a shadow of something flickering across her face. “And I was older than you are now. Please trust me that I know what’s best.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let me see if I understand how this works. You want to be gone fifty-five hours a week. You trust me enough to work in the store and take care of Danielle because . . . well, you have to. But you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”

  I stopped, not sure how to continue. Mom was silent, probably unsure how to respond. Strangely, I liked it that way. But then there it was again: that expression on her face. That naked pain.

  She dabbed something from her eye with the back of one wrist and, after a moment, yelled to the ceiling, “Dani! Get your shoes on! We’re going to Target!” Then she leveled her glance at me. “I’m not talking about this anymore right now.”

  She marched down the hall and I heard her wrangling Dani out the door. After they left, I stood at the window and gave the car the finger.

  I turned to see Richard, seeing me.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, slipping on my boots. “You know you’ve done it, too.”

  As Richard drove us to the store, I called Camden again. This time, his voice mail picked up instantly, a sign that he didn’t have his phone turned on. I sent a text message.

  Call me when you can. xo Ari.

  Then I deleted the xo Ari. When did I start scattering xo’s in front of my name?

  When we got to Millie’s, Richard asked me to go into the back room and open some packages that had been delivered the day before. When I heard a customer come in, someone Richard knew, I retreated to the farthest corner of the room and called Kendall.

  “Hey,” she said stiffly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m at work. What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to see how you are.”

  “How I am.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m embarrassed,” she said, her voice low and breathy now. I wondered if she had wedged herself into a similar corner at Scoop-N-Putt. “Also, horrified,” she continued.

  “Oh, good. That makes two of us.”

  “I’ve never had anything with anyone and then, bam. Two
weird experiences with guys in one day. I must be on some accelerated catch-up program.”

  “And I’ve never . . . you know . . .”

  “Been on the verge of beating someone up?”

  “That,” I said, laughing, hoping she would, too. She didn’t.

  “Ah, so we’re both on this accelerated plan.”

  Another thought popped into my head. “I’m still confused. Did you ever get the sense Max was into you?”

  “Ari, I can’t talk about this while I’m consumed with regret. The specifics of what happened are still too weird.”

  We were quiet for a moment. I could still hear Richard talking to the customer, but I knew we didn’t have much time. I wanted to tell her about the way James had looked when he watched her last night, what happened at the Barn with Camden. Where would I even start?

  Suddenly, Kendall said, “Hey, I have to go, a van just parked and a ton of people are climbing out. It’s like a clown car.”

  We hung up, then I started unloading the packages and breaking down the boxes. There was something really satisfying in making them flat again, removing a whole dimension.

  I poked my head out into the store. “I’m taking some boxes to the dumpster,” I said.

  Richard flashed me a thumbs-up. Was there something different about his thumbs-up now? Less affectionate, more formal? Could be. Dammit.

  I grabbed the stack of boxes and opened the door to the alley. Somehow I made my way through, my cheek against this wall of cardboard that blocked half my field of vision.

  “Hey,” said a voice that made me jump. I lowered the boxes and there was Camden’s face.

  “Are you lurking?” I asked.

  “I knew you were at the store. I figured you’d come out eventually.”

  “How long were you prepared to wait?”

  Camden leaned his forearms on the cardboard, each hand touching one of my elbows.

  “A while,” he said, with an intensity I’d never seen in him before.

  I stared at him, drinking him in. I felt an ache.

  “I’m grounded,” I said. “I’m not supposed to see any of you until further notice. Or forever. Whichever comes first, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I found myself tearing up. “Things are really messed up right now, at home. But we’ll have to find a way to see each other, until the dust settles.”

  He stared at me, then said, “Let me help you with these,” taking the boxes and walking over to the dumpster.

  “I leave them leaning against the inside wall, so people can take them. People always take them.”

  Camden nodded. After he put the boxes away, more slowly and delicately than seemed necessary, he walked back to me. I noticed he was not meeting my glance.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, swallowing hard.

  Now he looked at me. “I’m going up to my mom’s.”

  “Your mom’s.”

  “In Vermont.”

  “Vermont? The Vermont that’s like, four hours away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. But, like I told you. Lonely. I don’t want her to be lonely.”

  Okay. Maybe a few days apart would be a good thing. A breather.

  “How long are you staying?”

  Camden simply shrugged. It was the most horrible shrug I’d ever seen.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Eliza came to see me this morning,” he said, as if that was remotely close to an answer. “She’s really upset. As bad as I’ve ever seen her. She wants me to break up with you.”

  “I see.”

  “Everything’s messed up. Who am I supposed to be loyal to here?” Camden drew in a sharp breath. “I’m terrified, Ari. I haven’t seen this kind of thing ever work out.”

  He didn’t have to explain further. This kind of thing. It didn’t need a name, but it had one anyway: love.

  “So you’re just going to run away?”

  “Why not? I’ve seen my mother do this over and over again. When a relationship gets tough, she takes off.” He paused. “Well, first she makes a tapestry about it. Then she takes off.”

  We were quiet and the reality of what he was saying hit me.

  “Look,” he said after a few moments. “I’m coming back. At some point. But I need time to figure stuff out.”

  “Everything’s messed up for me, too, Camden. Here. I can’t face it without you.”

  He drew in a quick breath.

  “Sure you can. You don’t need some fuck-up like me. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

  “Okay, maybe I can. But I’d rather not. Camden . . . I love you.”

  Another sharp intake of breath, like I kept jabbing him.

  “Don’t,” was all he said.

  “Too late.”

  “I’m not the guy from last summer. I’m not Azor Ray. Hell, I’m not even a youth hotline volunteer anymore. I quit that because clearly I can’t handle a real crisis. I’m not any of these people you think I am.”

  “I only see who you are. Not who you’re not.”

  He was quiet. “I see that, too. In you, I mean.”

  Say you love me. Say you love me, and it’ll all be okay. You’ll see.

  Instead, he said: “Maybe things will be different in a few weeks.”

  No. No, no, no. “Summer will be over by then. And then, with school . . .”

  Even saying the word school, even thinking about it, made me feel cold. Was he even going to come back to Dashwood?

  I felt anger rise up in my chest. “I don’t understand you. All summer you’ve talked about breaking away from your mother’s way of life, and now you’re jumping into it when you don’t even have to.”

  Camden’s eyes met mine. “But it feels like I have to.”

  “Then fight that feeling! And while you’re at it, grow up. If you want to belong to something, you have to commit to it. You have to let it belong to you, too.”

  He stood there, completely still, and there it was again: the anger. My anger, I should call it, because I was ready to own it then. But I had to keep it tamed this time.

  “I’m sorry, Ari,” he said, moving forward and reaching out. I stepped away from him.

  The alley door to Millie’s opened. “Ari?” called Richard. When he saw the two of us, he looked alarmed, but I couldn’t worry about his worry.

  I turned back to Camden.

  This boy. This boy who had been everything in one way last summer, then everything in another way this summer. Who had shown me so many foreign things that had been right there, knowable all along.

  This boy was shaking his head again. “Don’t hate me,” he gasped.

  Then he turned and ran.

  21

  Over the next three days, I did the chores and errands my family asked of me. I didn’t complain or cry or pout. I did them while smiling, talking, and joking.

  Every minute of it was a big, fat fake.

  If I faltered for a moment, Mom would see the signs. I knew she was watching for them. I couldn’t let her know that underneath the pulse of these days I was back in the place of everything hurts. Perhaps I’d always been. Maybe this was where I lived for good, and all that appeared to be normal life and happiness was only a fleeting illusion, a mirage when you’re desperate in the desert.

  Richard was watching, too. I could tell he wanted to ask about what he’d seen in the alley but also respected my privacy. It was such a fine line, being concerned without being invasive. It bought me some time.

  The thing that hurt the most was this: I didn’t know who to be more angry at. Camden, for not being the person I thought he was? Or me, for not protecting myself?

  My therapist, Cynthia, had often urged me not to push away memories of what the depression itself felt like but rather, get inside them. That way, she said, I could begin to understand and, eventually, begin to win.

  I knew I should call her now. But she’d want m
y doctor to increase my dosage or switch drugs completely, and that would mean I’d lost again. I wasn’t ready to concede, so in the solitary safety underneath my bedcovers early each morning and late each night, I answered the question she’d asked so many times.

  What does it feel like, Ari?

  Well, it felt like this:

  Like there was always something incredibly awful that I needed to try and forget about.

  Like some of my cells were somehow dead, injected with a serum that made them heavy and numb.

  Like I had no idea what I wanted to do when I wasn’t being told what to do or following the paved paths of my day. Work at the store, go somewhere with Dani, come home, help with dinner. Work, go, come, help. Those were the only things that made my body move.

  On the morning of the fourth day after Camden left, the images returned. They popped like flashbulbs behind my eyes and I let them come, fast and forceful. They were the images of my bare arms, a razor opening the skin and relieving some of the pressure. Letting it out. Letting it hurt. Letting it bleed.

  Then, images of the contents of the shoe box in my closet: a three-pack of cheap razors with two razors left, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a pack of cotton balls.

  I started running the logistics through my mind. I couldn’t get any ice or frozen peas this time, not with Richard and Dani eating breakfast out there. But it would just be a small cut. Tiny, up high, so nobody would know. And I would still feel the release of it.

  It wouldn’t count, not really, but it would help.

  I went into my closet, then poked around in the back until I felt the corner of a shoe box lid sharp against my fingers. The comforting whisper-rustle as I pulled it out through my hanging clothes. I sat on the floor of my room and drew the box into my lap. Broke the tape on either side of the lid and popped it open, my hands shaking.

  But the razors and alcohol and cotton balls were gone. In their place was a white envelope that simply said Arianna on the front.

  I stared at it for a few moments, trying to process what it meant.

  Then I tore the seal on the envelope.

  The letter was handwritten on yellow legal paper, cursive swirls in blue ink.

  Dear Arianna,