by Cat Patrick
“This might take a while,” he says. “From what I hear, Jared there is still into his ex. Gertrude isn’t pleased.”
“You know them?” I ask.
He meets my eyes. “Uh, no. Do you know any Gertrudes? It’s a fairly uncommon name. Wait, that’s not your name, is it?”
I move closer to the wall, putting a little more space between me and Mr. Hilarious. “I think you’re just trying to find out my name,” I say.
“Busted. Well?”
The couple in front of us finally stops talking and instead embraces in what can only be described as a make-up hug, one with roaming hands and whispers. I start to worry that I’ll somehow get sucked into their vortex of drama when my new friend murmurs next to me.
“Looks like Gerdy forgives him. It’s sweet really. Such a bright future, those two.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t think she’ll be as sweet to his ex, Belinda. After all, they used to be best friends.”
The guy beams. “Belinda was a really good choice.”
I laugh and then move ahead, finally getting past the couple as their make up turns make out. I’m scanning the room for Simone when the guy touches my shoulder.
“Do you need help finding someone?” he asks. “I know most of the girls here.”
“Is that so?” I smile, lifting my eyebrow.
“Oh … no,” he says quickly. “I don’t mean I know them know them. … Well, maybe some of them …” When I playfully cross my arms over my chest as if waiting for him to go on, he tosses back his head and laughs. “Wow, my attempts at flirtation are going really well, don’t you think? Wonder if I can make it any worse.”
“I have faith in you.”
He bites his lip, looking both embarrassed and exhilarated by our little exchange. I take the moment to check him out, noting that with his stupidly adorable smile, he probably has no problem meeting girls at parties.
“Chris!” someone yells to him from across the room. The guy lifts his chin in acknowledgment, but then turns like he’s about to ask me something. Before he can, Simone appears out of nowhere and pulls me away.
“He’s in the backyard,” she says impatiently, not noticing the handsome blond who was about to … well, I don’t know what he was about to do. But it must not have been that important because when I turn back to look, he’s gone.
“Who’s in the yard?” I ask, following behind Simone like a puppy dog. She turns abruptly.
“Joel,” she says. “He’s in the backyard—without Lauren. Are you going to talk to him or secretly pine away for the rest of your life? This isn’t Pride and Prejudice, Keira Knightley.”
“You know that was a book before it was a movie, right?”
Simone rolls her eyes. “Of course I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that the movie was ten times better. Now let’s not leave poor Joel defenseless in a party full of Felicitys.”
The full impact of her words hits, and a shock of nervous electricity races through me. Even though Simone let me borrow a cute, party-friendly outfit, I’m still in no condition to approach Joel. I might need to have a “Don’t chicken out!” pep talk with my reflection. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Simone.
She sags dramatically against the hallway wall like she’s completely inconvenienced. “Hurry,” she sings.
My heart is thumping: The possibility of talking—actually talking—to Joel is a bit intimidating. It’s not like I’ve never spoken to him before, but it’s never been with the sole intent of ripping him from his girlfriend’s clutches. God, I’m so embarrassed for myself. And even so, I take my place in the back of the bathroom line at the top of the stairs.
“We meet again,” the guy from earlier says as he looks back from two people ahead of me. “We’re on the same orbit tonight. And sorry about—”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and the party fades into the background. The people. The music. Gone. Somehow I just know. I know even before I see that it’s Teddy calling.
“Hello?” I answer, gripping the phone tightly.
“Hurry.”
It’s all my brother has to say before I’m trampling down the stairs, grabbing Simone by the shirtsleeve, and pulling her out the door.
FIVE
STAY
I sit next to Teddy, my head on his shoulder, in the hospice waiting room. My mother cries softly into my stepdad’s button-down dress shirt. I stare at them, wondering if the last of Mom’s makeup will be smeared on the white fabric, the little bits of normalcy of her appearance washed away with tears.
My aunt faces the window, across the room from any of us—on her own island. Just then, I hear the scraping of shoes and look up to see Natalie walk in.
Her face is red and blotchy, but her back is straight, her eyes determined. I’m alarmed at how … right she looks. I have this irrational hope that my grandmother is somehow fine. That she’s cured and waiting to go home. But then my sister turns to my brother and says it’s his turn.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Teddy says, untangling himself from me. “Keep it together, Caroline.” His voice is serious, but in his expression I see impatience. He wants his time with Gram too. So I just nod and let him walk away.
Natalie doesn’t take his place. Instead she walks over to kneel in front of my mother, whispering to her. My mom then turns to cry on her, reminding me that they have a bond I don’t. Or at least one that I won’t have once Gram is gone. I wait, and it’s just a few minutes later when my brother comes out. His voice is broken from crying, and—unable to bear seeing his face—I don’t look up at him.
“Hurry,” he says. I stand and start toward Gram’s room, hands shaking, heart about to burst.
I shut the door and walk to the chair next to Gram’s bedside. She’s lying there, her eyes closed, and all at once I think that maybe it’s too late. I’ve already lost her. I stare down, relieved when I see her chest rising and falling.
I drop back into the chair next to her, banging my knees on the metal workings of the bed. I don’t even wince, only lean closer to Gram. Her head rolls to the side, and she opens her eyes to look at me. She’s suddenly so old—lost in her own skin.
“Caroline, at last,” she says weakly. “My favorite.”
I cover my mouth as hot tears spill over my cheeks—sobs shake my body. She watches me with weary eyes, eyes just like my mother’s.
“We’ve always taken care of each other, you and I,” she says. “But now you’ll have to take care of yourself.”
“But I want you,” I say like I’m a child. “I can’t do it without you.”
She smiles gently. “You tend to the things at home for me,” she says. “Walk the cat, water the flowers.”
“I will.” My grandmother’s cat, Junior, walks on a leash and hates everyone but her. He’s a menace, but when I asked her last year to get rid of him, she said he’d only leave when she did. Back then I never even thought it was a possibility.
Gram reaches to run the backs of her cool fingers over my cheek, and I clutch her shoulder like I can hold her to this earth. “Don’t ever give up on yourself,” she says. “Life is hard sometimes, and I’m sorry I won’t be here for you.” A tear slides over her temple.
“I’m scared,” I say.
“Shh,” she says. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not. We all die.” Her words give me chills. I swallow hard as her breaths become uneven. “Try to make good choices, but when you make a bad one, learn from it and move on.”
“Gram—”
“And be careful who you love, Caroline,” she whispers. “Never let them take too much. Never let them take what’s you.”
I nod, not fully getting her meaning but wanting to encourage her to go on. To keep talking. But Gram just stares at me for a second, smiling softly until her mouth goes slack.
“I love you,” she says finally. It’s so quiet, it’s barely there at all.
“I love you more,” I return, a stillness coming over me—a thick crushing pressure
that’s about to destroy me. Because as we stare at each other, I watch the life fade from my grandmother’s eyes. And then she exhales one more time, long and deep … letting go.
FIVE
GO
My grandmother is dead.
I stumble from the hospice, my body on autopilot—empty and numb at the same time. The conversation I just had with Teddy is on repeat, cruelly infecting me with regret and shame. I get in my car and start driving, words in my head swirling in dark, black spirals.
The room is bare—Gram is gone, a single rose on her pillow instead. My brother’s bloodshot eyes find me. He’s destroyed.
“Did she wake up?” I ask him, scared of the answer. If she didn’t wake, it means that she never got the chance to say good-bye. And if she did, I wasn’t there. What did she think?
“Caroline,” my brother says, looking away. Caroline. The use of my full name breaks me.
“Did she ask for me, Teddy?” My voice is high and frantic. My brother’s eyes glass over and he nods before wiping hard at his face.
“It’s not your fault,” he says quietly.
It’s not your fault.
It’s not your fault.
It’s like an echo in my brain as I push harder on the accelerator, fleeing the family I can’t face. I’ve just lost the most important person in the world, and I wasn’t there. I stare at the road ahead, thinking that my sister was right: There’s no one left to pick up my pieces.
I drive aimlessly, looking for a distraction. The radio blasts music, but the words are only screeches of noise. I don’t realize where I am until I see the rows of cars outside the party house. I try Simone’s phone, but it goes to voice mail. Then I try again. Voice mail again. I can’t help it, but I resent her for it. I slam my phone down on the seat and search for her car among the others.
I didn’t get to say good-bye.
I want to replay the entire night, make a different choice. But I know there aren’t any second chances. I screwed up. I ruined everything.
Simone’s car is nowhere to be found and I feel the panic start to seep in, threatening me as it waits to take me over completely. I drive by the party once again, debating going inside—even though the thought of it turns my stomach. I see an open space right in front and go to swing in, but I have to brake fast before I nearly crush a guy sitting on the curb, hidden from view. He looks up, shielding his eyes from my headlights. It’s the blond guy from earlier, and he stands so I can pull into the space.
Once parked, I click off my lights and roll down the passenger window. “What are you doing?” I call to him. “I could have run over your foot or something.” He ducks down, looking in before smiling.
“You came back for me.” He grins, but when I don’t smile, his expression falters. “I got ditched,” he says. “My friend was parked here, but he left with some girl. I thought maybe he’d remember he brought me and swing back through. Guess not.”
I don’t care, I think. I don’t care about anything. I glance past the guy to the party house, people still on the lawn holding hands or holding cups as I sit in my car, wishing I never came here tonight.
“So … ,” the guy says. “Are you getting out?” He’s standing there in his white thermal shirt, his pulled-from-the-floor jeans. Everything about him looks easy and carefree. I can’t even imagine what that’s like anymore.
“I don’t think so,” I say quietly. He takes a step closer, resting his elbow on the top of the car as he stares in, getting a closer look at me. Then his mouth falls open.
“Oh my God,” he says. “Are you okay?”
I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror and see that my mascara has run. I swipe under my eyes and then wipe the inky black on Simone’s skirt. When I’m done I turn to the guy, thinking he’s the only person who even cares how I am right now. “What’s your name?” I ask.
He seems caught off guard. “It’s Christopher … uh, Chris.”
“The answer is no, Christopher,” I tell him with a pathetic shrug. “I’m not okay. Not at all.”
He looks me over, confused, concerned. Rather than press me further about my disheveled state, he nods toward the house. “We should skip the party, then,” he says. “It’s lame anyway. Maybe we can go grab a coffee? I know a place still open.”
I lean my head back against the seat, utterly lost. I can’t go sit in a well-lit café talking to a stranger when I’m not even sure where I’ll sleep tonight. “I can’t,” I tell him. “I have to go.”
“Again?” he asks quickly. “Is it me? I can certainly tone it down.”
“It’s not you.” I debate telling him the rest and then opt not to. “And I’m sorry that …” I’m sorry for so many things that I can’t even finish the sentence. I switch the car into gear, but I haven’t even eased off the brake before Christopher is talking fast.
“Listen,” he says. “Is there any chance you could give me a ride to my friend’s house? He’s not coming back, and to be honest, the only reason I didn’t call a cab in the first place was because I was hoping I’d bump into you again.” He smiles sheepishly, maybe embarrassed for having admitted it. “And look,” he says softer. “We did. It’s kind of like fate, right?
I look doubtfully at Christopher, not sure if I should give him a lift. I’m eventually going to have to answer to my family; I’m just not brave enough yet. But I’m not brave enough to be alone either. So after a quick nod, I unlock the car door for him to get in.
The starless sky is unsettling as I drive through the darkened neighborhood toward the freeway. The houses pass in blurs of porch lights, and I’ve nearly forgotten where we’re headed when Christopher starts playing with the air vents.
“Christopher … ,” I start.
“It’s just Chris,” he interrupts. “Only my nana and my family physician call me Christopher anymore. Maybe a professor or two. I’m a freshman at Clinton State, in case you’re curious.”
I glance sideways. That’s the same college Teddy goes to in the next town over, a college I’ve visited at least a dozen times. “Do you know Teddy Cabot?” I ask, wondering if he’ll tell my brother he saw me at a party right after my grandmother died. And wondering if my brother would be sickened by the thought.
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Chris says. “Sounds handsome, though. Should I be jealous?”
“No,” I say, relieved and a little grossed out by the joke. “He’s my brother.”
“Interesting. Is he the overprotective type?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “He’s never needed to be.” Teddy has always stuck up for me. He’s never judged me—at least not yet. But what does he think now? How can he defend me after what I’ve done?
Chris grows restless and begins to tap his thumb on his thigh like a fidgety child. “Did you think the weather was weird today?” he asks. “I totally dorked out with a few friends and we”—finger quotes—“borrowed a telescope from the science building to watch the cloud patterns. It was pretty cool.”
When I don’t respond, Chris adjusts the passenger seat, sliding and reclining it until he’s almost in the backseat. He looks like he’s settling in for the night. “You’re not laughing at any of my jokes,” he says. “I’m debating whether or not you want me to shut up, but I feel wholly compelled to impress you.”
When I look over, he smiles broadly, and I think that he’s the exact kind of cute that I could fall for—if my heart wasn’t already broken. I turn away. We reach the stoplight of an intersection, and Chris reaches to turn down the music.
“I know it’s none of my business,” he says in a quiet voice, “but why were you crying earlier?”
The light turns green, but I don’t move. I’m frozen by the emotions flooding me, threatening to rip me to shreds in front of him. I can’t say it out loud. Finally I compose myself and drive a few blocks.
“You’ll need to make a right here,” he says, sounding defeated. I ease my foot on the gas, making the turn.
“My grandmother died,” I whisper. It feels like saying it can make it happen all over again.
“I’m so sorry,” Chris says. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Oh.” It’s a stunned word, a sad one. Chris looks out the window. And now I’m the one who can’t handle the silence.
“We’re not leaving the state, are we?” I ask him, filling the void. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve crossed four county lines already.”
“Why? You want to make a run for it, Thelma.”
Despite all that’s weighing me down, I choke out a small laugh.
“That was a laugh,” he says, pointing at me. “Sure, it was a pathetic one, but it means all is not lost. I’m still impressive.”
I fight back my smile. “Which way, Christopher?” He starts giving directions, and I turn left down a residential street.
“It’s around here somewhere,” he says under his breath.
I look over at him. “Are you telling me that you don’t know where your friend lives?”
“Of course I know,” he says. “It’s just that at night, all the streets look the same. But it’s definitely in this neighborhood. I remember that old church on the corner.”
I groan and slow down to ten miles per hour as he studies the houses on one side, then the other. He snaps his fingers, startling me.
“I just realized that you never told me your name,” he says. “What is it?”
“Caroline.”
“That’s pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“And sweet.” He’s quiet, but the minute he opens his mouth, I interrupt.
“You’re not going to break into ‘Sweet Caroline,’ are you?”
He abruptly closes his mouth and shakes his head no. When I see that it’s nearly eleven and Simone still hasn’t returned my calls, I feel abandoned. And then I wonder if this is how Gram felt in her last moments.