by Danika Stone
The weighted blanket was in Sarah’s room. She needed it. Madi headed for the door, but Sarah grabbed hold of her shirt before she got through.
“B-but, Madi, I th-thought—”
“I never left. I was tired and fell asleep. I forgot you were at the library.”
“But I waited!”
“And I was in my room the whole time. You could have just texted or called me like I told you!”
Madi’s phone buzzed, but with her sister’s fingers tight on her arm, she couldn’t get it from her pocket.
“B-but you never came! And when I got home, you didn’t answer.” Her voice sharpened. “You’re usually in the kitchen before dinner! I didn’t know!”
“I don’t always have to be in the kitchen. You should have called.”
“But I thought you left me!”
“Sometimes I need time on my own.” Madi’s voice rose. “You always—”
“Girls?” their father called up the stairs. “Why all the commotion?”
The phone in her pocket buzzed again. Laurent. Madi jerked away from her sister. Sarah followed, hands outstretched, the way she’d done as a child.
“Don’t go! Don’t GO!”
“Just STOP IT, Sarah!” Madi ran her hands into her hair. “I’m not going anywhere!”
“Girls, please!” their father shouted. “The neighbors will hear.”
With a roar of frustration, Madi dodged past her sister, pounding down the stairs as fast as her legs could go. Sarah’s screams rose behind her as she rounded the corner. Intent on getting away, she barely avoided a head-on collision with her father, who was standing at the bottom.
“What’s going on up there?” he asked.
“Sarah couldn’t find me and she got upset.”
“Madi!” her sister wailed. “MADIIII!”
Her father’s gaze darted up and back. “You need to deal with her.” Above them, Sarah’s wails grew deafening. “Your sister’s upset. You need to go back and calm her down.”
“I don’t need to do anything!”
“But you can’t leave her like that. You know how Sarah gets when her schedule’s thrown off.”
“But I—”
“Your sister is sensitive to routine. You know what changes do to—”
“Then WHY did Mom take off in the first place?!”
Her father’s mouth snapped shut midsentence. Upstairs, Sarah’s voice expanded into a deafening siren.
“You and Mom always leave ME to deal with her!” Madi shouted in a broken voice. “Well, she’s not my kid! She’s not my responsibility! She’s YOURS!”
Her father’s mouth hung open, eyes glittering. For a moment, Madi thought he was going to cry.
“I’m sorry, but we all have to—”
“If Mom hadn’t left, Sarah wouldn’t be freaking out like this! I can’t do this anymore! I just CAN’T!”
And in seconds, she was the one running out the door, leaving behind the house and her sister and all the things she couldn’t fix.
* * *
Madi could feel her phone buzzing, but she didn’t stop until the house was far behind. She stumbled to a halt on the sidewalk, then leaned over and put her hands on her knees. Dry heaves wracked her body.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, the quiet houses of the subdivision blurring in her teary eyes. “I’m in so much trouble.”
Her phone buzzed again, and Madi pulled it from her pocket, reading through the series of texts. Two were from her father. The others were from Laurent.
coffee was really fun, madi. we should do that for real sometime.
the madlibbers are meeting up in schenectady next weekend. (that’s where @moderndaywitch—morag—is from.) she’s offered her house for a movie rewatch. any chance you’ll be able to make it?
hey. um, i’m not sure what’s up, but drop me a text when you get this. was the virtual coffee thing too weird? sorry.
all right, then, later.
Madi tried to answer him, but her body was quaking with the downward spiral of adrenaline, and it took her two tries to get the message right before she hit SEND.
OMG laurent. i’m in so much shit.
His reply appeared a moment later.
why? (is this why you were offline? i texted a couple times.)
i usually pick my sister up from school. when we were out for coffee i forgot to go get her & my sister had a MASSIVE freak-out bc she didn’t know where i was. (i forgot her at the library, but a friend walked her home.) ugh. DNW!!!
i thought you said you were at home.
i was! but I had my headphones on & door locked. i dozed off. AAARGH! this is NOT what I need right now. sarah was totally freaking out when I left
oh no.
oh YES! my dad is so upset
but why?
bc I know how much routine affects sarah. i should’ve been at the library to get her. i should’ve been downstairs when she came home. i should’ve calmed her down. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!?
are you okay?
no, i’m NOT okay. i’m anything BUT okay. damnit!
sorry. what can I do to help?
nothing. there’s nothing TO do. i lost my temper & i shouldn’t have.
can you go talk to your sister?
not yet (i’m not at home) i’m out walking
where?
just around the neighborhood. i need to NOT be at home for a bit. it’s peaceful. calm
sounds nice. (if not for the drama.)
it is. but I can’t stay here & I can’t go to the next madlibbers event
no?
sorry, no. i just can’t
i understand.
don’t BE like that, laurent!
like what?
don’t be so understanding all the time!
???
be mad at me! say how stupid I am! YELL!
Why would I do that? your sister’s upset. i get that. why would that be YOUR fault? (and what kind of creep would yell at you over it?) madi, are you all right? seriously. you’re worrying me.
no I’m not all right & i’m crying now. u shouldn’t be this nice to me
i should and i will. i’m sorry, madi. i wish i was there to fix it.
no one can fix this except me
* * *
The porch light was on when Madi finally made her way home. She’d been expecting to hear sirens for the last three-quarters of an hour, but apparently the older of the two Nakama girls didn’t warrant a call to the police.
Madi slid her key into the lock and paused, taking a breath. Now or never.
With one baleful look back to the empty street, she pushed open the door. The house was dark with the exception of the kitchen. Her father sat at the table behind his laptop, a cup of coffee on one side, his phone on the other. He looked up as Madi came inside.
“Madi, thank God you’re back.” Low and gravelly, his voice sounded like a poor recording of his robust self. “You didn’t answer my calls or texts. What happened?”
“I took a walk.”
“For three hours?”
Madi nodded. She toed off her shoes and set them on the mat next to Sarah’s. When she saw her sister’s sneakers—two sizes smaller than hers—sitting there waiting, her chest finally released. Sarah’s still here. She hadn’t considered it until this moment, but part of the reason she’d been waiting for the sirens had been because of Sarah. Thankfully, her sister hadn’t run away again.
She took two steps up the stairs, but her father’s voice called her back. “We should sort things out before you go up for the night.”
Madi trudged to the kitchen with the enthusiasm of someone heading to the electric chair. “Can this wait until morning?”
“No, it can’t.” He pulled out the chair next to him and gave her a wan smile. “C’mon, Madi. It’ll only take a minute.”
She groaned and slumped down in her chair. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
“I’m
not angry at you, but I think we need to talk.”
Madi stared at her father. It felt like she’d walked into the wrong house. This wasn’t how things went. “I … Okay,” she said. “I guess talking’s probably good.”
“Yes, it is.”
Her father cradled his coffee in his hands, smiling sadly at her. The house was quieter than usual, the sounds muffled and soft. It made her throat ache: the darkness, the kitchen, the single light. It felt like she was watching a movie of her life from an earlier era. Before Mom left, before all the trouble. Guilt twinged in Madi’s stomach. Before I took off and left Dad to deal with Sarah alone.
“I’m glad you came home. You had me pretty worried.”
Madi winced. “Sorry about that. I just needed a little time to think.”
“That’s to be expected. Sarah can be a bit much sometimes.”
Madi chewed her lip. She’d expected anger, but her father’s exhaustion-born patience was somehow worse.
“Your mom called while you were out,” he said.
“She did?”
He nodded. “Yes. But I was dealing with Sarah and couldn’t talk.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I called her back.” His mustache twitched. “I told her you were over at a friend’s house. Didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.”
“Thanks, Dad. And again, sorry, I just—”
“It’s okay,” he said, interrupting. “I get it, Madi. I do. We’re all under a lot of stress with your mother away.” He reached out and patted her hand. It made her want to cry. “I … I just think it’s time we laid down some ground rules. We need everyone on the same page. You, me, Sarah…”
Madi waited for the last name, which didn’t come. Her gaze flicked to her father. He looked old, and that worried her. “What kind of rules are you talking about?”
“You’ve had a lot of freedom the last year; doing your classes through OMA has been a great opportunity.” His smile faded. “But that only works when you hold up your end of the bargain. What’s done is done. But now we move forward. Agreed?”
Throat aching, Madi nodded.
“First, your grades have to be maintained. That was always part of the deal.”
“My grades are fine,” she said.
“There was a message from the school on the machine.”
“About what?”
“I’m not sure. All the person said was that you were supposed to contact the office for some important information. Are you certain everything’s okay?”
“It’s probably to remind me about graduation. School’s done in less than a month.” Madi forced a smile. “You don’t have to worry about me, you know.”
“Fair enough. But the rest of your responsibilities haven’t changed.”
Madi frowned. “Meaning what?”
“You drop Sarah off in the morning, pick her up after school, and make dinner on your assigned nights.”
“That’s all stuff I already do.”
He nodded. “I know that you do it. You help with Sarah more than anyone else. Thank you for that. But you’re also my daughter, Madi, and I—” His voice broke. “I worry about you, too.”
Madi blinked away unwanted tears. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Please just work with me when things get rough. Don’t take off. Don’t leave me out.”
A tear ran down Madi’s cheek, and she brushed it away.
“If we stick together, we can make this work.”
“Okay,” Madi croaked.
“We’re a family, and everyone in a family is expected to pitch in. You and I had a deal about online school. You broke your end of the bargain.”
Madi’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her father cleared his throat and steepled his fingers. Charles Nakama was a mediator by nature, but it was obvious that he’d had time to think about this in the hours Madi had been gone.
“Look, if you do your part,” her father said, “then everything stays the same.” He gave her a tired smile and patted her on the arm. “Keep it all on an even keel, you know? Until your mother gets home.”
“And if I don’t?”
Her father’s expression cooled. “Then I’ll have to limit your Internet access.”
Madi blinked. “Wh-what? How?!”
“The code to the Wi-Fi is a privilege, not a right.”
9
“I’m in the prime of my youth, and I’ll only be young once!”
(Stand by Me, 1986)
laurent, you around?
just walked in the door. how are you?
missing u
missing you, too. are things better today?
yes and no. dad was weirdly cool about me taking off last night-at least for the most part-but if I mess up now, it’s over
over???
if I don’t hold my end of the bargain, he’ll switch the wi-fi code
ugh. that sucks.
no worries. i’ll figure it out. besides, everyone deserves a screwup once in a while
you’re hardly a screwup.
thanks
do you have any plans today?
just picked sarah up from school. why?
do you have time to hang out? (for real?)
i’d love to, but there’s no time for me to head into ny. sorry! i’m doing a rewatch with sarah tonight. u want to join in?
can’t tonight. dinner’s at 8.
aren’t you starving?!
ran into mrs. marcioni on the stairs. she took pity on me and gave me a cinnamon bun.
mrs. marcioni???
the lady who took the shoe pic for me.
ha-ha! now i remember
so no time for ny???
sorry, no. ugh … schedules suck
do you want to go for coffee instead?
another snapsed date?
no, a real one this time.
* * *
Madi couldn’t stop grinning.
“This isn’t coffee,” Laurent said as he carried his cup to the table. “It’s pretending to be, but … I know coffee beans when I smell them.”
“Yes, it is.” Madi giggled. She settled on one side of the table, nudging the chair out for him with the toe of her shoe. “Millburn’s finest.”
Laurent took another whiff and coughed. “This is nobody’s finest, but I like the ambience.” He glanced around the Millburn station, catching sight of the announcement panels listing the times for the New Jersey transit to New York. He had exactly thirty-seven minutes before he needed to be back on the train again.
“So you’re some expert on coffee now?” Madi teased. “Are these more skills I don’t know about?”
“Perhaps not an expert, but a discerning drinker.” He swirled the dark-colored liquid, staring in horror as it stained the sides of the paper cup. “It’s the right color, but…” He lifted the cup to his nose and took a deep breath, gagging. “This is not meant for human consumption. It’s almost as bad as vending-machine cappuccino.”
Madi snorted with laughter. “You’re insulting the delights of the Millburn train station, you know. This is the finest brew you’ll find here.”
“Finest is not what this is.”
“I don’t know, Laurent. I happen to like it.” She took a sip and made an (almost believable) sound of contentment, then gestured to the people milling past them on their way to the trains. “Bet they’d agree.”
“Doubtful.”
She took another sip and cringed. “Mmmm … yummy.”
Laurent couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from his throat. “You are a good actor, Madi. Worthy of so much better than this.”
She grinned and set her coffee aside. “If the wrong person hears you complaining, you could cause an international incident.” She held out her hands as if framing a television shot. “French exchange student insults local coffee. Caffeine-deprived patrons demand an apology!”
“International politics aside, the barista definitely got my
order wrong. This isn’t a latte.”
“Pretty sure the lady at the counter isn’t a barista, either.”
Laurent followed her gaze to the hairnet-wearing woman handing out sloppily poured beverages. “I wouldn’t want to cross her,” he said. “She might force another coffee on me.”
Madi laughed, her cheeks growing pink as she tried to muffle the sound. The woman at the counter turned and glared at them.
“Oh my God.” Madi gasped. “She heard us.”
Laurent leaned in, his voice a stage whisper. “She is not amused at our discussion of her coffee-making skills.”
His words set off another bout of laughter. Madi wiped tears from the sides of her eyes. Seeing the coffee matron watching, Laurent lifted the cup tentatively to his mouth. He nodded to her. “Wish me luck.” Then brought it to his lips.
He took one swallow and his throat closed. The scalding liquid did little to hide the muddy taste of overroasted beans laced with sugary sweetener. He tried to swallow, but his throat refused. His eyes watered. His hands shook.
“Laurent?” Madi said. “Are you okay? You’re turning purple!”
He grabbed a wad of napkins off the table, spitting into it while Madi cackled with laughter. Passersby on their way to the trains stared at the sight. When he could breathe again, Laurent set the cup aside.
“This,” he said in mock-seriousness, “was not what I had in mind when I suggested a coffee date.”
Madi grinned and leaned closer. She pushed his cup aside. “Then next time you’ll have to buy.”
“If it can be our coffee shop, you’ve got a deal.”
“Our coffee shop?”
“The one in New York.”
Madi’s smile grew until her whole face seemed to glow with joy. Laurent reached out and touched the tip of her nose.
“Yes. Because next time I want you to visit me.”
She blushed and looked away. “I’d like that.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
Madi’s elation at Laurent’s impromptu visit quickly spiraled into depression. She dawdled for twenty minutes after she got home, but when Sarah still hadn’t finished her homework, Madi finally gave in and started the movie. The repetitive ticking had already ended and the “Power of Love” theme song begun when her sister’s footsteps pounded down the stairs.