I felt a little embarrassed. "It's not a step. I'm just thinking about it, remember?"
Mr. Croft smiled again and stood up from his desk to walk me to the door. "When you make a choice, the universe conspires to help you. Have you heard that before?"
I shook my head. "Is that like 'Things happen for a reason'?"
"No. It's like 'You only have to decide what you want and the world conspires to make it so.' The hard part is making the decision."
I left his office and headed back toward chem just in time for the bell to ring. I'd have to stop in and get the homework later. I passed Jason in the hallway, but I didn't look at him. I felt like Mr. Croft had actually helped—he'd given me a little more to focus on, maybe a little hope that had nothing to do with Jason, or other boys, for that matter. There could be something just for me. Something I decided to want just for myself.
That glimpse of hope helped me get through the rest of the day. Helped me ignore the stares and whispers of the idiots passing along rumors. And it saw me home to my family, whistling as I walked.
***
You feel a sense of urgency now. The senior center bus has just dropped Aldo off, and you're waiting with him on the bench for Holly. You've spent all day with Aldo, keeping him company through the lunch of turkey sandwiches and weak chili, through the game of Go Fish he tried to play with a nice guy named Milton. As Aldo faded in and out, Milton reminded Aldo to check his hand, remember what he's trying to match up. You'd been tempted to whisper help to Aldo to keep the game going, but you didn't want him to lose focus. More and more, you see him struggle to pay attention. The last thing he needs is to spend his time at the center talking to you.
You've seen a couple of other people there losing it. Sitting on a bench alone or parked in a wheelchair, they're having their own conversations with the air, but you don't see any ghost sto want juts by their side. In fact, except for brief glances where you can't be completely sure, they don't seem to notice you standing by Aldo. Or maybe they accept you as another hallucination.
"Thank you for the game, my friend," Milton had said after the last pairs were matched.
Aldo had smiled at him. "Nice day," he'd said, turning his gaze toward the bank of windows.
Milton had been unfazed by the change of topic. "It's a beaut, all right." He'd collected the cards calmly and then helped Aldo to his feet. Together, the men had walked out to the garden, and a contented look had filled Aldo's eyes as he heard the birds singing.
Right now, he's resting on the bench outside the apartment, his eyes closed, and you can tell he's feeling the sun on his cheeks. It's early May now, and the Seattle weather is just starting to improve. If you were alive, you'd be figuring out prom night with Holly, or maybe not with Holly. If you'd stuck around, you're not sure that you would still be together. Maybe that night would have ended your relationship ... There's no way to tell now.
But here she comes up the sidewalk, and though there's the edge of sadness she always carries with her, she's got the shadow of a smile on her lips. "Grandpa," she says.
"Hello," he says opening his eyes.
"Hey." She takes a seat next to him on the bench.
"Aldo," you say. "Can you tell her she's pretty?"
"Bellissima," he says.
Holly's surprised grin makes you smile too.
"Do you think we should talk to her?" you say slowly. "Do you think we should—"
But Holly's grin has faded, and she reaches for Aldo's hand. "Did you ever have a worst and best day?" she says. "It was like that today, Grandpa. I couldn't wait to get back home."
You don't need to wonder if she's still mad at Jason. You can see the hurt in her eyes now. Something happened at school to make it worse. There's got to be a way to tell her to give him another chance. To tell her everything so you both can be free.
Aldo's face has relaxed. He's fading back out.
"Stay with her," you coax. "Squeeze her hand so she knows you are listening."
He reaches for her hand. "Careful, kid. I'm not some puppet here," Aldo mutters.
Holly looks off down the road, searching for Lena's school bus. "I'm going to make some chicken parmigiano tonight," she says. "That sound good?"
Aldo nods.
"It's warm out he's onight," sre," she says, unbuttoning his sweater.
He's like a big doll and just lets her slide the cardigan down his arms.
"Aldo," you say. "You're starting to worry me."
"I'm tired," he says aloud.
"I know," Holly replies. "We'll be inside soon."
"Can you ask her what happened today?"
"I said I'm tired," Aldo tells you. "Later, maybe, Roberto."
What if there isn't a later?
You wonder how long Aldo can last—how long he'll be able to do anything with his physical body. "You said we should talk to her," you say, trying to keep desperation at bay. "Remember?"
"Of course I remember," Aldo snaps. "My body's tired, so it'll have to be later."
Holly takes her grandfather's hand again. "I'm here, Grandpa."
"Roberto," he mumbles aloud.
"Yeah, of course," Holly says. "Roberto, can you take a hike for a little bit? We just want to sit here and relax."
You fade into the background, keeping watch over Aldo and Holly. You have this feeling that your time here on Earth is finally winding down. And it's just when they need you most.
Chapter Eighteen
Thursday afternoon Jason sent up another jump shot, fading back as he launched it. It slammed against the backboard and then sank with a satisfying clunk. He hadn't spent much time shooting baskets in the driveway—not since he'd been able to drive and could go to real courts. But this felt good tonight. He dribbled back out to the edge of the asphalt and then charged forward for a lay-up. As he faded back under the hoop, he saw Mark coming up the street toward him. So much for solitude.
"I never got why you didn't turn out for the team this year," Mark said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt.
"Too many assholes," Jason replied. He rebounded the ball and tucked it under his arm.
"Oh, come on—you're still mad?" Mark tried out one of his lopsided smiles. "I thought things would be back to normal by now."
"What's normal?"
"You know, friends?"
"You're lucky I don't beat the shit out of you."
Mark laughed and brushed the bangs out of his eyes. "I was just having fun," Mark said, lea
"Dude, Holly hates me," Jason said.
"Well, yeah." Mark adjusted his baseball cap.
"So, you got what you wanted. Nice work."
"I didn't want her to hate you. I just wanted her to go away," Mark said.
"That almost sounds honest," Jason said.
Mark leaned against Jason's car, crossing his arms across his chest. "I did us both a favor. You have to admit. You were, like, obsessed with her—we hardly hung out when you were with Holly. You were gonna let a chick take over everything."
"You're such an idiot. You think Holly was the only reason we weren't hanging out as much? How about that you suck as a friend?"
Mark recoiled. "What? Seriously? Have I not always been there for you?"
Jason felt the good guy he knew he was slipping away as his anger came to the surface again, raging. "You're never there for anyone but yourself. You weren't really there for Rob. And you aren't there for me, either. In fact, the one time I actually find something good, you crap all over it."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"Rob defended you, always made excuses for you—but you know what? You really aren't a good guy at all, no matter what he said. You only care about yourself."
Mark's eyes narrowed, his face reddening. "That's bullshit."
"No. It's the truth. And I'm sorry I never had the guts to tell you the truth before."
"So that's it? That's freaking it?"
"Pretty much. Now get off my car."
&n
bsp; Mark glared at him, seeming like he couldn't believe what was going down. "You can forget about your stupid birthday party tomorrow. I won't be there."
"Seriously, can you get off my car? I need to go somewhere."
"Yeah, I'll get off your car," Mark said. He started walking down the driveway, shaking his head. "You've really screwed it up this time," he yelled over his shoulder. "Wait till I tell everyone about this."
"Go for it," Jason said, climbing into the Audi. He couldn't care less about whatever story Mark was going to spin next at school. None of that even mattered anymore. He just needed to see Holly. He just needed to give it one more shot. He couldn't let it slip away like this, not when he'd promised her he'd never let it happen.
A few minutes later he was pressing the buzzer at her apartment building. It was a familiar scene to him, standing outside the glass doors, beneath the overgrown rhododendrons, the soft buzz of early mosquitoes in the air around him. Glancing through the glass as he rang again, Jason could see the tired carpet leading to the elevator that the two fake potted palms guarded. He couldn't imagine living in such a run-down place and suddenly felt lucky for how he'd grown up, what he'd had.
"Hello?" he said, finally getting an answer from the intercom. "It's Jason. I just need to see Holly for a moment."
"Oh, Jason? Yes, come on up. I know Holly'll be happy you're here," Mrs. Mullen said. "She's been under the weather. Here, let me buzz you in."
"Great," he said, patting his pocket for the envelope he'd brought with him. Yeah, it was there—he was ready to see Holly. He was ready to set some things straight if she would let him.
***
There was a knock on the door of my bedroom, and then light sliced into the darkness. I was cocooned in my covers, still in pajamas. It was like after the accident in some ways. Though waking up from that in the hospital had been all light and noise, and I'd only been out for a couple of hours there. This time, I'd been in bed since yesterday. The only safe place to hide from everyone and think about things. The conversation with Mr. Croft had gotten my mind working a little on what I was going to do next, but I hadn't mentioned it to anyone—not even Marisa, who'd been calling me incessantly, since I hadn't shown up at school that day. Why would I have gone? Today would have been even worse than the day before.
"Holly," Mom said, coming in and sitting on the end of my bed. "It's time to get up now. I could only get my shift at the dealership covered today. I've got to get ready for the store."
"I don't want to get up. Can't you call in sick?"
"Are you listening? I'm leaving in an hour." She patted my leg. "You need to get up anyway. You've got company."
"Marisa?" I said hopefully.
"Jason."
My stomach dropped. "What? Why did you let him in again?"
"He's your boyfriend, right?"
"Mom, no. Oh my God. He's sitting out there?"
"Yep, he's having a bowl of chicken noodle soup with Lena and Grandpa."
"From a can?"
Mom laughed. "Yes. I'm afraid my skills tonight only involved opening and microwaving."
"Look, I don't ... we're not going out," I said quietly.
"Coulda fooled me. He said he had to talk to you."
I sat up in bed. "Mom, observe." I pulled at my ratty UW sweatshirt and stretched-out yoga pants. "I'm not exactly ready to receive a visitor," I said, clicking on the light beside the bed.
"So, you do care," Mom said.
"Of course I care. I don't want him to see me looking like a complete loser."
"You're not a loser. You're beautiful," Mom said, reaching out for my hand.
"You know what I mean." I pushed away her hands and pulled the covers up around myself. "I can't go out there."
Mom's eyes were fierce. "The hell you won't. You stayed home sick from school, which we both know you aren't. You can't hide from whatever this conflict is. Now he came over here to see you. You at least owe him the courtesy of talking to him. I don't think he's going to care what you look like."
"It's not about that."
"Just grab a hairbrush and change your clothes. It's simple."
I saw the exasperation on her face. She so didn't get it. "Mom.
I can't."
Mom's eyes closed. "Holiday, why are you making this so difficult? This boy obviously cares about you."
"You don't understand. It's all messed up." I didn't want to tell her the whole story, so I just said, "He never really liked me for the right reason, okay? And now it's all tangled. There's this perfect ex-girlfriend of his hanging around now. It's just totally screwed."
She let out a slow, long breath. "Do you remember me talking about Charlie Grant?"
"Lena's dad?"
She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. "Yeah, I'm sure I told you a little about him. He worked with me down at the insurance office. I saw myself getting really comfortable with Charlie. He came around to take you and me to the park.
Bought us groceries. Drove us everywhere in his Volvo. Talked about family vacations we'd take." She smiled. "Charlie spent weekends scouring the newspapers for a little house he could one day afford for us. For his future family."
"I remember him a little. It sounds like things were great then."
"Yeah. It was great, sometimes. He was so kind to me. No one had ever treated me like that. And then other times, I'd start getting nervous, worried that Charlie was going to disappear—that he'd wake up one day and decide he didn't want any of this, that he didn't want me."
"Mom."
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"I had been so used to relying on myself that I couldn't trust him, couldn't trust that he'd be there when I needed him most."
"This is so not the same thing," I said, quietly.
"All I'm saying is, don't push Jason away because you're afraid he'll disappear."
"Like my dad."
"Yeah. Like your dad, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man," Mom said, setting down the throw pillow and scrunching up on the bed next to me. "It was a good thing he left."
"And Charlie? What happened to him?"
"After I broke it off, he changed jobs, moved to California. He was so hurt, he never spoke to me again. When I found out about Lena, I was on my own. That was the worst time of my life."
The air was cold, silent, in the room. "Man."
"It could have been great," Mom said. "Or maybe not so great—but I never got a chance to find out. I've tried to call Charlie over the years, but he's married now. He needs to know about Lena, but I have to find the right time. After all, I've been on my own with you two, and though it's been hard, it's also been okay, too. We're making it, right?"
I squeezed her hand. "Yeah, but maybe Charlie could have helped. Maybe..." I stopped, reading the hurt in Mom's eyes.
We sat there for a moment, not saying anything. Finally, Mom got up from the bed. "You'd better get out there."
"I don't know what to do," I said, putting a hand on my stomach. "I don't know if any of this is real. I mean, how do you know?"
"God knows I don't have all the answers, but what I'm trying to tell you is that when someone cares about you, you don't push them away," Mom said.
I chewed my lower lip. "What if it doesn't work out and I just end up hurt anyway?"
"Then you end up hurt and smarter," my mom said, getting up from the bed. "But you don't walk away. You suck it up and get through it." She left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
"What if I can't this time," I said aloud. The words echoed around me, evidence of all my fears. I didn't know if there were any ghosts or angels or any other help in the universe, but if there were, I felt like calling on them. I was tired of being the one who had to suck it up and get through it. Just once, I wanted something to be easy, simple, to make sense.
Hadn't it been like that with Rob? I walked over and took out the little journal I'd written in a few weeks before—before I'd really spent t
ime with Jason. I opened it to the first page of my list of memories.
Rob's sense of humor
Rob's clear green eyes
The way Rob said my name
Rob dancing crazy to old Beastie Boys songs
Rob drowning his french fries with ranch dressing at the late-night diner
And it went on and on...
As I read through the list, it struck me that most of the things on it were really all about Rob, not really about us. The things I missed the most about him was just who he was, not who we were together. That was what was different about me and Jason. The thing I feared the most, the thing that Mom had totally hit on, was that this relationship with Jason was risky because it meant something. Something more than I had with Rob.
"More crackers?" asked Lena, holding out a sleeve of saltines.
Jason took a few from the pack. "Thanks."
Grandpa Aldo gave him a long look, holding eye contact for several seconds. "You take care of her," he said in a slow, deliberate sentence.
Jason frowned at him. "Sorry? What was that, Aldo?"
Grandpa Aldo nodded, his eyes bright. "Roberto, he says take care of Holly."
Lena nudged Jason. "That's his invisible friend," she said.
"Yeah, I remember," he said. "Roberto said this, huh?"
"Yes. He can't leave yet. Not until..."
"Oh ... okay."
Holly emerged from the dark hallway. Her eyes were red rimmed, her hair mushed back into a messy ponytail. Jason's heart dipped in his chest. God, had he caused all that somehow? He hated seeing her so obviously upset.
"Hi," she said.
"Hey," he said, pushing away his bowl of soup.
"So, you're here. How's the soup? Terrible?"
"Tastes like soup," he said, smiling. "How are you feeling?"
"I look like crap," she said, crossing her arms.
"No you don't," he said, and he meant it. Maybe it was being away from her for a few days—but it was almost like seeing her in this imperfect state made her more beautiful to him.
"Listen to me," Aldo said, suddenly standing up from the table. He pointed an index finger at Holly. "It's not your fault. It was my fault," he said.
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