The Homecoming

by Stacie Ramey

  Our shoulders bumped, and his angry movements sent a cascade of ice and snow all over us, and I had to pull my scarf over my mouth. He was still filling in little cracks and making his side perfect. I just wanted to start building the fire he said we could. I sat up. My head hit part of the roof and opened a hole on my side, the lower side of the igloo. Within seconds, the whole wall collapsed, burying us under all that weight. I didn’t know if it was the snow or him or both. I just knew I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Terror wedged itself inside my throat. Mom was in her study. Dad was at work. I’d read pirate stories where people fell into pits of quicksand and died.

  We were going to die. I was going to die. I was dying.

  Hands lifted me. Ryan’s hands. He pulled me out of the wreckage I’d caused. I expected him to be angry, but instead, he brushed off my shoulders, pushed me back. “You are such a little pain in the ass!” But he was smiling. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  I wanted to yell back. I wanted to tell him he always made me feel like a little dipshit. I wanted to curse and scream, because I knew this was my fault. My stupid eyes. My stupid temper. I should have listened to him. I knew it, and so did he. I stood staring at him, anger pouring off me, and he just laughed it away. Then he kicked at the remains of the igloo. “Hurry, before Mom finds out what we did.”

  I joined him, smashing the rest of it. Glad my mistake would melt into the ground and no one else would know. Glad that my big brother saved me. Just then, Mom opened the door. She waved us in. “I’ve got hot chocolate ready. You must be freezing.”

  Ryan pushed me so he could go in first. And just like that, he became my jerky big brother again.

  Mom cocks her head. “What?”

  “Never mind. I think I fixed it.”

  “Good. Your ceremony is from six to eight. We’re planning to go out to dinner afterward. Unless that’s too late for you.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, but I’m still mixed up in the memory, cold and numb and so annoyed with myself. That igloo was when I started to get competitive with Ryan. I wanted to be better than he was. I didn’t care what happened. I just had to be right, even if it killed us.

  Mom turns to leave, then stops again. “I never told you how sorry I am about your girl.” Her gaze skates over my pictures lined up on the dresser, and I’m annoyed that she’s going there, but it’s not like I didn’t know she would.

  My girl. Leah. I’m speechless.

  “If we’d known…”

  I shake my head. I don’t tell Mom that Leah didn’t exactly tell anyone about me either.

  “John, I know I’ve made a terrible mess of our lives since Ryan…”

  My hand goes out. “Mom, stop.”

  Like a steam engine plowing through me, the memories come. The sound of glass shattering. Dad saying, “That’s great, Lydia.”

  “You like that?” Her voice mean and threatening.

  Then the coffee burning me. Burning.

  Livy crying. Mom saying, “Shush, baby, shush.”

  I shake my head to clear the memory. I can’t keep doing this. This is why I don’t want to be back here. The constant never-fucking-stopping train of memories that bury me.

  Mom stands there, completely unaware of the war I’m going through. As usual. “I think you and I are too much alike sometimes.”

  She wants me to answer her, but I can’t.

  “I know you didn’t want to come back here. I know I make you… I”—she gathers her hands in front of her, takes a breath—“I know I make you kind of crazy, but I’m glad you’re here, John. This could be a second chance for us. You don’t want that?”

  I try to count to ten. Twenty. One hundred. Anything to stop this landslide of feelings. Not just about Mom but also about how unfair life is. How I could have been the one to die so many times. When I fell off my bike on that trail. The hundred or more times I ran into the street without looking, chasing some stupid ball. The igloo that collapsed and buried me. I could have died any of those times, but I didn’t. But the Old Ryan did that day on the driveway. And it didn’t make any fucking sense. None of it. How could one person make bad decision after bad decision without consequence, while, with Ryan, one second of stupid luck took everything from him? Why did Leah die when someone could have found her and saved her? When I should have. She gave me her phone for cripes’ sake.

  “John? I’m trying to talk to you. You can talk to me about this.”

  She just sliced me open seven different ways, and she wants me to talk while my guts are pouring out of me, slopping on the floor. We both know she blames me for Ryan’s accident. She did then. She does now. Things like that don’t change. People don’t. We just grow up and move on. Like I’m going to do the minute I can. California, I remind myself. As soon as my probation is lifted.

  Eventually, she gets the hint and shakes her head, her face sober, but at least there are no tears. Mom and I don’t like to cry in front of people. Good thing. “Oh. I almost forgot.” She points to my closet. “I bought you jeans and running shoes. The ones you had were so worn.”

  I’m not sure what pisses me off more: Mom looking through my things or using new things to buy my love. Or that I have to thank her for sneaking around my life, spying, instead of simply asking me what I want or need. Leaving little presents in this weird staying-on-the-periphery kind of parenting.

  My eyes go back to my homework. “I’ve really got to get on this.”

  “Sure. Let me know what fits and what doesn’t. I can take anything back you don’t like.”

  As soon as Mom leaves, I close my books and take out my phone. It’s been forever since I’ve talked to Pete. But instead of texting him, I see one from Emily.

  Bad night. Could use someone to talk to.

  I type back. I’m someone.

  Can you meet me?

  Where?

  The park.

  I don’t ask her why she wants to meet two blocks away when we could just hang in each other’s backyards. I simply send back Yes. Ten minutes.

  Thank you.

  I try to silence the voices in my head that tell me this is a bad idea. That I can’t save her any more than I could save Leah. I hear Steve telling me to fall for someone who can take care of me for a change, but the thing is, I can’t help Mom. I can’t help Ryan. I can’t change anything that’s happened in the past. But I can meet Emily in the park. So I will.

  Chapter 17

  I expect to see Emily’s car parked, but nothing. I look by the tree we sat near. Still nothing.

  “Over here.” She waves from one of the swings.

  When I get closer, I can see she’s been crying. I sit on the swing next to her. Pull her closer to me by the chain. “What’s up?”

  She wipes her eyes. “My cousin, the one I told you about?”

  “Dylan?”

  She sniffs, but I can tell by the way she looks at me that she’s glad I remembered his name. “Yeah. He’s in trouble again.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “He stopped taking his meds. He ran away. Nobody knows where he is.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She laughs, looks at the moon, wipes her eyes again. “Not unless you can get your hands on a couple hundred dollars, you can’t.”

  “That’s all he needs? Money?”

  “No. That’s what I need to get on a train to go find him. Because once he ran, I was put on super-duper lockdown.”

  “Are you sure you could find him?”

  She nods. “I know him better than anyone.”

  “Done.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll give you the money.”

  Her hands start flying around her face. “I didn’t really mean I wanted you to give me money. You asked if you can help, and I said that because…”

&
nbsp; “Because you need money. I’ve got that.”

  “No. I couldn’t.”

  “Of course you could. If you take me to an ATM, I can get it for you right away.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, isn’t it wrong to take money from your friends?”

  “Nope. Not at all. Money is the least important thing in the world. But I gotta ask you. We’re friends?”

  She leans closer to me. “Maybe one day a little more than that.”

  “What day would that be?”

  “The day when that haunted look leaves you.”

  She kisses me on the cheek. I let her. All the while I’m trying like mad not to let her get too attached to me, I wonder if maybe I missed the boat, because the thought of her leaving to go after this cousin I know nothing about terrifies me. I’ll help her, of course. I just wish helping her didn’t mean helping her leave. No matter for how long.

  • • •

  I almost forget about Emily asking me for help, because she doesn’t mention it again for a few days, and when I offered the day after our park date, she’d just said, “The situation is stable at the moment.”

  So Friday morning on the way to school, I’m a little surprised when she brings it up. “You still OK with lending me money?”

  “Sure, but I thought all was OK.”

  “It probably is, but I want to make sure. I’m thinking about leaving tomorrow.”

  “Your parents won’t notice you’re gone?”

  “They think everything’s settled, and they’ve got a big college reunion scheduled for this weekend. They won’t cancel that to watch me. My good-girl routine has paid off.”

  “Apparently.”

  “If you don’t want to give me the money…”

  “That’s not a problem. I told you. I’m just worried about you.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s going to be an in-and-out kind of operation. And I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “My parents leave tonight after work. So after that.”

  “You can’t go at night.”

  “Why not? You don’t even know where I’m going.”

  “Wherever it is, it’s safer during the day for sure.”

  “I’ll go tomorrow morning then.”

  “How will you get there?”

  “Train. Oh, can you take me? You can use my car for the weekend if you want.”

  My mind goes to all the different ways a car could help me. Then I imagine all the ways I could screw things up for her. Getting a ticket. Getting into an accident. Having a flat. I picture having to tell Emily how I blew her cover. “Nah. I’ll just take you there and back.” Maybe I’m growing up? Actually putting someone else in front of my own needs?

  “When do you want to leave?”

  “First thing.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that. The money you can have, but my sleep? Wow.”

  She giggles. “Thanks.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  She looks at me like I’m the best person in the world, and I can’t really take that. Makes me want to be a total smart-ass.

  “You always say that.” Her voice is sort of sad, like she’d hoped she could have changed me already. “Maybe thanks should be given just for being willing to do something for someone else?”

  “You ever heard of the road to hell being paved with good intentions?”

  “Yeah. I’ve heard it. But I don’t buy it. Not with you anyway.”

  And then I’m done. Somehow, some way, that girl’s taken the ass right out of me. Weird.

  • • •

  I come downstairs at eight o’clock on Saturday morning. Open the drawer in the kitchen to leave Mom a note when she calls out from the hallway near Ryan’s room. “John, that you? You OK?”

  “Yeah. Just leaving you a note. Emily needs me to help her with her car this morning.”

  Mom blinks at me as she comes into the kitchen. Her hand goes over her eyes like the tiny bit of sun from the window is too bright for her. She leans against the wall. “Didn’t you already fix the fan for her?”

  “Yeah. This is something different.”

  “OK. You’ll be back in time for your appointment with Steve?”

  I look at how tired Mom looks and get annoyed with Dad, with Ryan, even with me. We take too much from her, and it’s killing her.

  “Yes. Did Dad say when I’m getting my Jeep back? You wouldn’t have to take me anywhere if I could drive myself.”

  “I don’t mind taking you. Besides, Ryan…”

  “He can miss one Saturday. And so could I for that matter.”

  She closes her eyes. “No.”

  “I’m serious, Mom. Go cancel our appointments, then go back to sleep. Rosie can watch Ryan, and I’ll help when I get back from taking Emily.”

  “Taking Emily where?”

  “I mean helping Emily.”

  “OK, maybe you’re right. I am really tired.” She puts her hand against the wall.

  “You want me to help you upstairs?”

  She smiles at me like a sick, weak bird. “I’m not such an invalid that I can’t put myself to bed.”

  I walk out of the house, now super worried about Mom. Which is a really good appetizer for what comes next. Me being worried about Emily.

  • • •

  Emily is dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a jacket, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a baseball hat on her head. She’s got on a raincoat, and judging by the look of the dark skies, that’s probably a good idea. It also makes me think maybe she’s not going too far. For some reason, that makes me feel better, which is weird, because should it really matter? She’s her own person. She’s going to do as she pleases.

  That doesn’t keep me from saying this next thing. “You’re really not going to tell me where you’re going?”

  “Can’t. That way, in case my parents find out and torture you, you won’t be able to reveal my secrets.”

  My smile turns to a smirk. “I’m pretty sure I could stand up to your father’s stern lectures.”

  “It’s my mother you have to watch out for. She is a mean woman with a blender.”

  “Shudder. But seriously, you’ll keep your phone on? Check in?”

  “Oh. Right. Here.” She hands me her cell.

  And just like that, the ground goes shaky underneath me. “Why are you giving this to me?”

  “I’m pretty sure my parents are tracking my phone, so I can’t take it with me.”

  I stare at it in my hand, will myself not to think about Leah, but how can I help it? She gave me her phone too, the night before she killed herself. I start to sweat. My vision turns into tunnels. I feel dizzy. I hold up my hand. “No. This isn’t right.”

  Her face gets intense. “John, are you OK?”

  “I can’t. You can’t do this.”

  “Do what? I’m just going to check on him. Then I’m coming back.”

  “You need to take your phone with you.” My hands are on my head. I know I look like a lunatic, but I can’t help it. I twist around. Look at the sky. “I can’t. This isn’t right.”

  “John, you’re pale as a ghost. What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t let you go without your phone. It means you’re not coming back. No one leaves their phone.”

  She puts her hands on my arm. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t explain. I have another phone. I’ll give you that number.” She pulls out a different cell. “It’s a burner phone. Dylan gave it to me. It’s how he calls me.”

  She types in my number and sends me a text. Even as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, I also feel my stomach drop. “Let me come with you.”

  “He won’t let me near him if I bring someone. Plus, you need to be here, protecting
my cover. With this.” She points to her cell in my hand. “If they text, just answer the best you can. You can scroll through and see my responses to them in the past if you want to be sure you sound like me.”

  I stare at her phone in her earnest hands. It’s like the ties on the bracelets show how tight she’s wound, and all I want to do is hold her hands and ask her to stay.

  “I don’t even think they’ll text. You know, maybe once or twice. I’ll be back by tomorrow morning. You can come get me at the station. OK?” She pulls the key to her house out of her pocket. “In case you need anything in there. Or to get away from your family.” She smiles. “Please, John. I’ll be back in no time. You can text me on this burner, and I promise I’ll answer.”

  I see Leah hand me her phone. She said, “Keep this for me so I won’t answer Sean or Brittney. Be my strength for me.”

  I feel her take my hand, her tiny hand around mine. “Please, John.” Only it’s here and now, and it’s Emily this time. How many times have I wished I could go back and change the Ryan thing? How many times with Leah? Is this the second chance I asked for?

  “Emily, I’m really worried…”

  “I’ll do it with or without your help. You know I will. Only with your help, it’s a lot easier and safer for me.”

  I feel my insides crumbling. I swear I’m almost crying. But I can’t change the past. I can’t change Emily. I’m stuck here, not knowing what to do with all this. Wondering why the hell I’d be so stupid to let her do this to me. And then I remember that Steve said he was proud of me for opening myself up and letting myself be loved. I couldn’t save Ryan. I couldn’t save Leah. I’m not even sure I can save myself. But what I can do at this moment is help Emily the best way I can. She is not Leah. She is not Leah. She is Emily.

  She touches my face. “I’m going to be fine. You’ll see. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll check in every hour if that would make you feel better.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “I’m coming back, John. I promise.”

  I think about how wrong I was about my first impression of Emily. She seemed safe and together and by the book. But I was right that she is also loyal and invested and brave.