Mom narrows her eyes at me, like she’s studying. Like she’s waiting for me to ask the next question. But I don’t say anything. I want to hear the next part first.
“I was in shock,” Mom says. “We all were. Carson was—he was perfection. Strong, handsome, smart, good-hearted, the best friend anyone could ask for. He was like, like a god almost, like it didn’t make sense he could die at all. We couldn’t believe he was gone.
“After the funeral, I was so angry,” she continued. “I didn’t understand how I could have fallen in love with Rafe when I was supposed to be with Carson. When Carson was away at college, Rafe and I spent a lot of time together. I fell in love with him. We never had a physical relationship—neither of us could do that to Carson—but the thing between us was bigger than that. It was Rafe who I found the scallop shell with, right before I was supposed to move to Detroit with Carson, before I found out I was pregnant. We knew that we’d never be able to fit the halves together again, but we wanted to hold on to us somehow.”
Mom cleared her throat.
“I wanted to blame the lightning for everything,” she continued. “But I could only blame myself. If I’d just gone with Carson like I was supposed to, maybe he would’ve been alive. So after Carson died, I couldn’t stay with Rafe. He wanted to be there with me however I chose—he wanted to raise you with me, but also would have taken me back to the clinic. He never pressured me to choose. But I was such a wreck. My dad was right. I was flighty and I couldn’t make a decision whether I wanted scrambled eggs or over-easy, let alone whether to keep a baby. My father told me I was too self-involved to raise a child. He was a single father practically my whole life, and he said I didn’t have what it took to do it.”
Mom’s eyes are wet. She swipes at them with the back of her hand.
“I waited for a sign.” She shakes her head back and forth. “For my ability to tell me what to do. Now that Carson was gone, what was my future? The soul mate the lightning had shown me was dead. What now?
“And that’s when I realized that maybe what I’d seen even from the beginning—Carson as my soul mate—was really you. You were my soul mate, and because I needed to love Carson in order to have you, the lightning showed me him. I know you must think that sounds crazy. And it probably is. But at the time, that was my big epiphany. So, I just took off. I left everyone—my father, friends, Rafe. I barely said good-bye. I moved to the apartment Carson had rented for us in Detroit. I started a new life on my own and waited for you to arrive. And when you did, it really was the best day of my life. And I knew I’d made the right decision.”
She takes my hand in hers and squeezes.
I swipe at the tears streaming down my face with my free hand. “I’m your soul mate?”
Mom nods. “You’re everything.”
She releases my hand, leans forward and pulls my head onto her shoulder, strokes my hair.
I stay like that for a while, my eyes closed, my heart full.
I have more questions, though. Reluctantly, I pull my head off her shoulder to look at her.
“But what about your father? Didn’t he want to see me? I was his granddaughter.”
Mom nods. “He did see you. Once.”
My eyes widen.
“I wouldn’t answer his calls. He’d leave messages on my answering machine, still talking at me like I was a little girl who needed to grow up. But I was already grown—the second you were born, I grew up. And then one day, he just showed up at my door. You were about nine months old. Against my better judgment, I told him he could stay two nights.”
Mom smiles.
“He was actually very sweet with you. He’d lay you down on the couch and put his hands out, and you’d kick at him with your chunky little legs. He loved that. Said you’d be a little soccer player. But after only one night, we were fighting. He didn’t trust me to take care of you well enough. He wanted me to move back home. But I couldn’t. I told him to leave, and he did. I sent him pictures of you every few months. But we could never let go of our anger. I missed them all so much—my dad, Rafe, everyone. But I felt like they were better off without me. All I did was cause them pain.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She nods. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve figured out a way for you to know him.”
“What about Carson’s parents? They’re my grandparents? Where are they?”
Mom shook her head. “They were much older when they had Carson. They died within months of each other, only a few years after Carson. I don’t think they ever recovered from his death.
“I’m so sorry, Rachel. I made so many mistakes, but I’ve never lied to you. Carson was your father. He was a wonderful person, and it breaks my heart that he never got to love you the way I know he would have. But I need you to know that everything I do, it’s for you. You are my real soul mate.”
I pull my hand away.
“I believe you,” I say. “But it hasn’t felt that way since you started the group. It’s always seemed like everything you do is for them.”
I realize how whiny that sounds, but I don’t care anymore. If we’re getting everything out, she should know how little she’s made me feel like her soul mate. I don’t care if I make her mad.
But she’s not mad. She just nods.
“I understand that, but it never felt that way to me. I didn’t have anyone but you, and I wanted to give you so much more than that. When I realized that they looked to me for help, I felt like I could finally help heal pain instead of cause it. I guess I thought that I was giving you this alternative family—they all love you so much, and as far as I was concerned, I thought you could never have too much love and attention. I didn’t have much of that growing up.”
“But I only wanted it from you,” I say, my voice cracking. Damn. “But it’s okay,” I add quickly after clearing my throat. “I’m okay. They do love me, and I love them, too. I just thought that you would never be able to connect with me really since I hadn’t been struck by lightning.”
“What?”
“When I was little, you were talking to Sue once and I overheard. You said you couldn’t connect with anyone who hadn’t been struck or knew their soul mate. And since I was never struck, and you wouldn’t tell me my soul mate, I thought … you know.”
Mom gasps.
“Oh, Jesus.” She half-laughs. “I don’t remember saying that, but I do remember feeling that way. About romantic prospects. Sue was always trying to get me to go out on dates, find a man, a father for you. So that’s probably what we were talking about. Not you. Never you. Oh, Rachel.” She kneels in front of me, puts her hands on either side of my face. “You are everything to me. Everything. I’m so sorry that I’ve done such a shit job of showing you.”
She pulls my head down so my forehead rests against hers.
“I’m going to cut the meeting a bit short, get our house back to ourselves,” she whispers.
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “I’m okay.”
“They love you, honey. You know that, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. I do. I love them, too. And I sort of get now why you didn’t tell me that much about my father. I know you feel guilty about what happened to him. But I still really want to know more about him.”
“I’ll tell you everything. I will, I promise. I’ll give you all my memories of him. And anything I still have that was his is yours.”
We stand up and she holds onto my hands.
“Mom?”
“Yes?” She lets go of one of my hands and pushes some hair behind my ear.
“I think you should talk to Rafe. He still has the other half of the shell. I saw it.”
Mom’s body goes rigid.
I pull the necklace she’d given me over my head.
“Here’s your half back,” I say. “Maybe it’s not too late for another chance.”
Mom takes the shell, puts her arm around me, and looks out at the water.
I can sense that she needs to be a
lone with those thoughts now.
“I’m going to see if Serena’s awake. We might go to Jay’s,” I say.
Mom hugs me and I go back to my room to check on Serena.
FORTY-SEVEN
Things are never quite as scary when you’ve got a best friend.
—Bill Watterson (cartoonist)
When I open the door to my new room, I find Serena fixing her hair in the mirror that Ron and the others had hung above my dresser. I have no idea where they found it, but it’s perfect. The frame is pale green with dark green ivy painted all the way around. The mirror has some spots on it, making it appear vintage or antique, which only makes it better.
“Hey,” I say, and Serena flinches a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m just a little jumpy, I guess. Your mom said sudden noises and stuff. Probably you too—everyone who was there,” she says, leaning forward to swipe a finger under her eyes. “Yeah, this is permanent, not makeup.”
“You look good,” I say. “You just need more rest. You hungry?”
She shakes her head no. “And I can’t sleep anymore, so don’t try to make me.”
I hold up my hands. “Hey, I’m not your mother.”
“And thank god for that,” she says. “I can’t go back home to her hovering. Can I hang here?”
“Jay asked if we want to go there. He said he’s got some yard work to do, but afterward we can get pizza or something. Is that okay with you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Third wheel?”
“It’s not like that,” I say. “He wants to see you. He’s worried. It’ll be the three of us. Like before. No couple-y stuff. I promise.”
She nods. “Okay.”
She continues to fiddle with her hair while I search under the bed for the boots I’d kicked off last night.
Normally, I’d wear them without socks, but it’s chillier than it was yesterday, so I grab a pair of socks from my dresser. As I put them on, I notice a blackish-brown spot the size of a button on the sole of my left foot. Ew. I try to remember whether I’d been outside barefoot in the last day and had stepped in dog shit or something. And then I remember that yesterday I’d been barefoot running through the school parking lot in the rain, hoping to get struck by lightning. It feels like ages ago.
I sit on the edge of the bathtub, scrubbing my foot with a rough washcloth, making the water hotter and hotter. But nothing will get the smudge out.
Is it a burn? Had the lightning spread through the puddles on the ground to my foot? Is it possible I was struck and no one knew it? Maybe it’s just a stubborn stain from hot tar or something. Maybe it’s nothing. I suspect it’s something, though. At this point, would I want anyone to know, even if it is something? I want everything that I have now. I don’t even want that anymore.
Serena drives, even though she promised her mom she wouldn’t go farther than my house.
“I feel fine,” she says. “My mom’s acting like I’m suddenly stupid and can’t drive or—wait, what’s that sign mean again?” She points at a stop sign ahead.
“What?” My eyebrows fly up.
“Ha!” She says slapping my leg and slowing to a stop. “Got you.”
“Jesus, why?”
“’Cause it’s funny to get a rise out of you.”
“Whatever. Just drive.”
My phone buzzes. A number I don’t recognize.
Hey. It’s Tim. Serena’s mom said she’s with you but she doesn’t have her phone. I just wanted to see how she is. Maybe you can ask her to call me?
“Interesting,” I say.
Serena glances at me. “What?”
“It’s from Erickson. Wants you to call him. He’s worried about you. I think he looooooooves you.”
“Shut up.” She stares ahead for a second and the side of her mouth turns up. “Read me what he wrote.”
So I do.
An hour later, Serena and I are sprawled out on the hammock, rocking gently, watching Jay clip hedges. Dark spots have started to show through the back of his T-shirt, and I want to go over to him, reach my arms as far as they’ll go around his waist, and inhale the sweat between his shoulder blades. Until that moment, it has never occurred to me that I’d want to smell someone’s sweat. I feel like a cavewoman or something. But I promised Serena none of that while she’s around, so I hold it in, and the deprivation makes me want him even more.
I’d given Serena my phone to call Erickson and she’s in full-on flirt mode, laughing at everything he says, playing with a loose string on the hammock. She makes plans to call him later when she gets her new phone, then hands mine back to me.
We rock and watch Jay.
He finishes the hedges and is now picking up the clippings and dropping them into a black garbage bag. He squats down to reach some branches that had fallen underneath the hedge.
“I never really appreciated Jay’s butt until now,” Serena says. “He has a very nice butt.”
I sit up. “What? No! Stop looking.” I clap my hand over her eyes. But I look. His jeans do hug his butt nicely. And as he leans over farther, his shirt rises an inch and I admire that small strip of smooth, sweaty skin peeking out above his jeans.
Serena pries my fingers off and leans her head on my shoulder.
When Jay’s done, he stands in front of us, drinking a bottle of water. We ogle him some more but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Serena and I scooch over to make room for him. He sits carefully next to me, making the hammock sink a couple of inches and lifting Serena up a bit higher in the air on my other side. She giggles. Jay stretches his legs out and starts rocking slowly, so Serena and I lift our legs up, letting him do the work.
I take his hand in one of mine, and Serena’s in the other, and pull so our hands are all together resting on my stomach. For a second, I feel this strange déjà vu sensation, like we’ve all been here before. I love this moment. The three of us. All the questions that have been swirling in my head for so long finally answered. Knowing Mom and I will be okay. Knowing that what I’ve been chasing isn’t really real—what’s real is this. My friends, Mom, the survivors—my family.
The sky is gray, not even a hint of blue anywhere. I realize that I haven’t even checked the weather today.
A distant rumble sounds from so far away, it’s almost inaudible. But I feel it.
“Let’s go inside,” I say.
We get up, still holding hands, and walk toward the side door.
“Maybe we should just get the pizza delivered?” Serena says, and there’s a little shakiness in her voice.
“Everyone want pepperoni?” Jay asks.
“I want plain,” I say.
“Right,” Jay says, squeezing my hand. “And then you’ll just steal my pepperoni.”
He opens the screen door for us.
The sky lights up for a second. And, for the first time for as long as I can remember, I don’t count to see how close the lightning is.
Acknowledgments
Thank you for helping me bring Soulstruck into the world:
My agent and friend, Linda Epstein, and the Emerald City Literary Agency team.
My editor, Nicole Frail, and the Sky Pony/Skyhorse team, including Alison Weiss, Emily Shields, Emma Dubin, and Kate Gartner for the most gorgeous cover.
My critique partners: my daily work-wife Marcy Beller Paul, Jennifer Shulman, Kendall Kulper, Laura Hughes, Kristin Brandt, Karen Haas, Orla Collins.
My Online Sandbox agent-siblings, Pneuma Creative, Fall 15ers, Fearless 15ers, Sky Pony pub-mates, and many other author friends.
Bloggers, reviewers, booksellers, librarians, and readers of young adult books.
Lightning Strike & Electrical Shock Survivors International, Inc., for their Life After Shock books, which provided stories of life-changing suffering, bravery, and community. Jessica Roth, for her story and her huge heart. J.R. Rudzki, for his patience with my never-ending questions. Any mistakes I’ve made regarding lightning, including s
trikes, trauma, medical treatment, survivors, and post-trauma are solely my own.
My people: Amy, Lisa, Claudia, Mara, and the rest of the SFS girls.
My post-April 29, 2016 team: see above, plus Dan, Steven, Ari, Ari, Justin, Jeff, Stacey, Kenny, Katie, Nick, Casey, O.J., Bonnie, J.P., Dannielle, Laura, Ron, April, Stacey, Rick, Steve, Kristen, Leigh, Matt, Julie, Jovana, Joe, Godwin, and everyone else who helped us through.
My extended family: Norene and Larry Green, Suzie and David Cohen, the Lewands, Pedersens, Offenbergers, Hersches, Duchanos, Winnicks, Pyners.
My parents, Ellen and Norman Sinel.
And finally, my world: Andy, Nathan, Zach, and Justin Cohen.
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