Sway

by Melanie Stanford

Beth shot her a look. “We’ve gone out a few times. Dinner and stuff.” She watched me closely, waiting for a reaction. Truth was, I didn’t know how I felt about that. Gage hanging around my family without me was a little weird, but deep down I knew I really didn’t care.

  “You know,” Beth continued, “he never mentions you. Are you sure you two are still together?”

  “My relationship with Gage is none of your business.” Maybe Gage was bonding with my family because he was planning to propose like Aunt Rose thought. Yikes. I needed to tell Gage I wanted to cool things off soon, and definitely before I said anything to Beth, or anyone else.

  Beth smirked. No matter what I told her, she would read what she wanted into it. Sighing, I left the kitchen in search of Dad.

  He was on the couch in the media room. When I walked in, the first thing he said was, “Look! I’m on TV!”

  He was watching his old soap again. His way of reliving the glory days.

  I joined him on the couch. “Mari says hi.”

  Dad’s eyes didn’t leave the set, although he did press mute. “How is Marilyn?”

  “She’s good. So are Charlie and the boys.” I watched a younger version of my dad smolder on the TV screen. The woman with him had her hands clasped together as she pleaded with him.

  Save me! I imagined her saying. Save my life! Save my cat! I won’t survive without my cat!

  Soap-opera Dad spoke. I couldn’t hear the words, but his entire being radiated drama. I love you but I hate your cat. I had to let it die. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.

  “Does she look any better?” Dad asked, breaking me from my improvised lip-reading. I looked at my real dad, much the same as he looked twenty years ago. “Has she been using that Italian cream I gave her? She had the most horrible speckled complexion before. I hope she’s been using it.”

  “Don’t know, sorry.”

  I’d finally gotten his attention. He gave me an incredulous look. Then his face relaxed and he studied me.

  “You look good. What products have you been using?”

  “None.”

  “Of course you have. You don’t need to lie about it. I never lie about any of the cosmetic procedures I’ve had done. Except to the general public, of course.”

  I snorted. That was my dad for you. Get your lips filled, tell your daughters so they can look as good as you, but tell no one else because good looks should be natural. Which his weren’t.

  “I haven’t been using anything but Olay.” It was a lie but I couldn’t help myself.

  Dad started to mutter curses about Olay.

  “Charlie’s sister had a really bad accident right before I left Vegas,” I said. “She’s in a coma.”

  Dad paused the show. “Who is this now?”

  “Charlie’s sister, Lacey. Mari’s friend? She fell into a pool in a Vegas hotel and hit her head.”

  “Oh dear, how unfortunate. She was a pretty girl from what I remember. I hope the accident didn’t ruin her looks.”

  Why did I even bother?

  My fingers tapped on the leather couch. “So, Beth said Gage has been by?”

  “He’s come calling a few times. I think he was lonely while you were gone. We all enjoy his company. I want him to feel like he’s welcome here anytime.”

  “Oh.” This could get awkward. It wasn’t fair to keep dating him when I loved someone else, but his growing attachment to my family definitely complicated things.

  “He’s coming by tonight,” Dad said.

  “He is? He didn’t tell me.”

  “I think he wanted it to be a surprise.” Dad grinned at my arched brow. “I thought you should know so you can pretty yourself up. Change into something a little nicer. Just pretend you’re surprised.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  Missing my wry tone, Dad patted my hand. “Of course, sweetheart. Of course.”

  * * * * *

  Framed pictures covered the walls of my bedroom in the beach house. I hadn’t been back here since Eric and I broke up. Dad had left the room the way it was when I left. I peered at photos of Eric and me, both of us skinny and grinning and radiating an innocence we would lose not much later. Another picture showed me and Mari as kids, going down a slide together. I sat behind her with my arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

  My favorite picture of all was the largest—an 11x15 black and white print of my mother. She was walking away but she had turned back to look at the photographer. Her chin almost rested on her shoulder, her face lit up with a wide, laughing smile. Her hair framed her arched cheekbones and her eyes seemed to say, catch me if you can.

  A lump formed in my throat. Part of me wanted to turn away and never look at that picture again. The other part of me wanted to prostrate myself in front of it, beg and plead that woman to come back. Every time I looked at it, I had the same feelings.

  Images of the last time I saw my mom before the funeral flooded my mind. Tears stung my eyes. This is why I hated it here. I could never escape the way my mom had looked in that last moment—the moment she was gone forever.

  I stared out my bedroom window at the water rippling onto the sand but I couldn’t push the image away. I needed Eric. Only he knew and understood. He had made my time here bearable, he made my mom’s loss just a little less. Another memory rippled its way into my mind, a welcome change to the thought of my mother’s lifeless form.

  * * * * *

  It had started with a knock.

  I’d flown to the front door, flung it open and wrapped my arms around Eric.

  “You’re here,” I said into his chest.

  “I’m here.” He pressed his cheek onto my head. “My arms won’t free you.”

  I looked up. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s from a song.”

  “Oh.”

  I let go of Eric but he kept my hand, his fingers curling around mine. He followed me up the stairs, down the hall, and into my hated Malibu bedroom.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  Eric studied my room, peering at the books on the shelf, the posters and pictures on my wall. He paused for a moment in front of the framed 11x15 of my mom. “She looks a lot like Beth.”

  “Yeah.”

  His fingers explored the different items on my dresser. A hairbrush. A silver bracelet. Makeup. It was the first time he’d been to our beach house. We had just finished our sophomore year. He would later tell me that he was already in love with me at this moment. But I was oblivious then. I had begged him to come, needing my best friend. He didn’t need to be persuaded.

  He picked up a picture of me, him and Charlie, and then set it down with a grin. Next to it was a framed photo of the two of us. That one he held for a while, staring down at it without saying anything.

  “Why do you hate it here so much?” I opened my mouth but didn’t know if I was ready to explain.

  He sat beside me on the bed, the photo still in one hand.

  We’d known each other almost a year and I still hadn’t told him why. We often spoke of our losses—me about my mom and him about his parents. But I’d never told him the way she died.

  He leaned so that our arms were touching. “What happened?”

  I stood. I wasn’t ready. “Let’s go swimming.”

  Later that afternoon, I was lying on my back on a towel, my body stretched out like a corpse without the casket. The sun beat down on my face while I listened to the waves swishing onto the sand and didn’t think of anything else. Next to me, Eric’s breath whistled softly through the slight gap in his lips.

  I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him. He was asleep on his stomach, his head resting on his arms. His face had gotten tanned in the one week since school ended, his eyebrows were now a bleached blond. To me, he looked perfect. I stared a
t him—the boy who had become my best friend, the melody to my music notes.

  Either he hadn’t really been sleeping, or somehow he sensed my stare. His eyes opened. Our gazes locked and for a moment, we didn’t say anything.

  “My mom died here.”

  The words sounded strange coming out of my lips. They didn’t fit right, probably because I’d never said them out loud before.

  Eric propped himself on his elbows and waited.

  “It was a stroke. Brought on by her diabetes. Type 1. That’s what the doctor said.” I turned my face to the sun and closed my eyes. The words poured from my mouth, not so strange anymore.

  “The maid found her and started screaming. We were here, on this beach, Mari, Beth and me. Dad was at work. We went running when we heard the screams, to my mom’s room.”

  Eric put his hand on my arm. I took a deep breath. The image of my mom lying on the floor flashed through my brain, her thin body twisted to an unnatural angle. The light from her face gone forever. The three of us knelt around her. Mari screamed her name. I sobbed, my tears dripping on her frozen face. Only Beth was completely still and quiet, her face scrunched in restraint, forbidding any emotion to escape.

  I opened my eyes, hoping the sun would sear the picture from my mind. Blinking, I rolled on to my side facing Eric. He took my hand.

  “That was when everything changed. Right here. Mari was sent away. Beth changed, became…hard. Dad couldn’t get over it. He left us here and went back to Kellynch. For a long time, he wouldn’t even see us. It was Beth who finally got through to him. I think because she looks like her.” Beth and Dad had formed this bond that nobody could crack. Or compete with.

  “It’s been wrong ever since.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek. Eric let go of my hand and reached out. He caught the tear with his finger, squishing it flat, a warning to any future tears. It didn’t work.

  Eric wrapped his arms around me, clutching my body to his. I cried, soaking his chest, ocean-salt layered with the salt from my eyes. He pressed his hands into my back almost painfully, as if he was trying to squeeze the wrongness right out of me.

  “Hold on to me,” he whispered in my ear. “Hold on.”

  And I did. I held on—my tears, my limbs, my heart—all gluing to him in a way that would prove irreversible.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Somehow, even though I’d only been gone a few days, Gage had integrated himself more firmly into my family than I was. When he came over, Dad treated him like the son he never had. They swapped audition stories, Dad lavished him with advice and names of people who could give Gage a leg-up. Beth flirted with him, and while he didn’t seem interested, they had an easy familiarity as if they’d known each other a long time. Shelby also tried her charms on him, but to no avail. He hardly acknowledged her presence.

  The night was all-around strange. Gage was happy to see me, but seemed content to hang out with my family at my suggestion. It wasn’t until Dad turned in for the night and Shelby disappeared that his attention zeroed in on me in a more physical way. The thought of his hands on me felt wrong, but he didn’t seem bothered when I made up an excuse to get away.

  Eric had flooded my thoughts the entire night. I ached to hear his voice, to see his eyes light up and hear him laugh. And then I would think of Lacey. I went back and forth between wishing her happiness with Eric and wanting him for myself. I was a terrible person.

  A week later, and I still hadn’t heard anything about how Lacey was doing. I called Mari, eager for news.

  “How’s Lacey?” I blurted out as soon as she said hello.

  “Hello to you too,” she muttered. “Lacey’s fine.”

  “Fine? What does that mean?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Here, let me get Charlie on the other phone.”

  “Charlie’s there?” Mari didn’t hear my question because she was bellowing to her husband.

  “Ava?” Charlie’s voice came through the line. “I just got back last night. I was about to call you.”

  “How’s Lacey? Mari won’t tell me anything.”

  Mari grumbled but Charlie spoke over her. “She came out of her coma!”

  I sighed in relief. “So everything’s okay?”

  There was silence on the other line. My heart tightened.

  “Well,” Charlie paused. “She’s…different.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Mari burst in. “She’s freaked about everything. She won’t even leave her hospital room. She doesn’t care about putting makeup on, or her clothes, or going back to work. All she does is read these crazy enlightenment books.”

  My head felt thick. That didn’t sound like Lacey at all.

  “Mari, cut her some slack,” Charlie said. “It was a terrible accident. The doctor said she might not be the same.”

  “Not the same?” Mari said, incredulous. “Ava, you have no idea. While Charlie was still there, I had him grab Lacey some gossip magazines that I had at home and then I called her so we could, you know, read them together. She wouldn’t even open one. She didn’t care!”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” Charlie cut in. “Knocked some taste into her.”

  “Hey!” Mari yelled. They started to bicker on their separate phone lines.

  “Wait,” I broke in. “What does this mean? Why did the doctor say she won’t be the same?”

  “A serious head injury can change you,” Charlie answered. “That’s what the doctor said anyway.”

  “You’re really worried about her then?”

  “Not…really,” Charlie said, though uncertainty strained his voice. “She’s getting better, physically. It’s weird to see her like this though. You’d have to see her to really get it. She’s different. We don’t know if she’ll ever be like she used to.”

  I took a deep breath. “How is Eric dealing? Is he doing okay?”

  Mari snorted. “Eric who?”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “He just took off,” Mari continued. “Can you believe it?”

  No, I didn’t believe it. Eric had been so worried about Lacey, it didn’t make sense that he would leave her, especially now that she was awake.

  “He went to visit his brother,” Charlie explained.

  Mari spoke right over him. “It was beyond weird. He would hardly leave the hospital. Then Lacey wakes up from her coma and he bolts. Suspicious, you know?”

  “Give it a rest, Mari,” Charlie snapped. “You weren’t there. I was. It’s not suspicious. He didn’t want to upset her.”

  “Did they…” I swallowed. “Did they break up?”

  “Ava,” Charlie said, exasperated. “Does that really matter right now?”

  “I was just wondering is all,” I stuttered. “It is a little weird that he didn’t stay.”

  “See.” Mari sounded triumphant. “Wait a minute, I’ve got it. Eric’s parents are dead, right?”

  Mari needed lessons in tact—a full semester followed by summer school. “Yes.”

  “Maybe he’s asking his brother for advice about marrying Lacey! That’s why he rushed off. Now that she’s awake, he doesn’t want to wait any longer and he wants his brother’s approval or something.”

  I hated to admit it, but Mari could be right. Maybe Lacey’s accident helped Eric realize that he loved her. Maybe he was planning his proposal already.

  Charlie sounded doubtful. “Maybe. Anyway, my parents are still with Lacey in Vegas. They’re staying with the Harville’s. Sam drives them to the hospital every day.”

  “Wow, that’s nice.”

  “Guess what Landon said this morning?” Mari cut in, done with the Lacey conversation.

  We chatted a little longer, Mari recounting funny but slightly alarming anecdotes of what her sons had been up to. When we hung up, I sat on my bed and trie
d to process. It was all a little too much.

  What I did know is that I missed it. I missed being with Mari and Charlie, listening to their silly marital squabbles and playing cars with the boys. I missed Lacey’s enthusiasm. I missed feeling important, liked, needed.

  Most of all, I missed Eric. But I couldn’t miss him. He was Lacey’s to miss now, not mine. I needed to figure out how to unglue myself from him once and for all.

  * * * * *

  Aunt Rose found me in my room later that day, sitting on my bed surrounded by books and papers.

  “I thought I’d stop by. It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said, closing the door behind her.

  I looked up from my iPad and rubbed my eyes. We’d gone eight years without seeing each other. What was a month compared to that?

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Trying to get organized for the school year,” I said. “I’m outlining my lessons. The principal wants to see them next week.”

  Aunt Rose swiveled my desk chair around and took a seat. I jotted some notes on my class on Mozart. When I looked up at Aunt Rose, she had a guarded look on her face.

  “What?”

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” she asked. “Teaching? At a high school?”

  “Yes,” I said, annoyed that yet another person didn’t support my decision.

  “But, Ava, you could do so much more.” Her fingers fiddled with the pearls around her neck. “You could tour worldwide, perform with some of the most renowned orchestras. Make a name for yourself.”

  My disappointment ran deep. It used to be that Aunt Rose’s advice meant the world to me, that I needed it. But I guess I’d outgrown it. Aunt Rose didn’t want the best for me, she wanted the most for me. But those were things I didn’t want, and that was something she had never understood.

  It wasn’t all her fault though. In my anger and blame eight years ago, I let our relationship crumble to nothing instead of bringing her closer. I hadn’t given her the chance to know me.

  “This is what I want to do,” I said.

  “But—”

  “This is what I’m doing.” I knew my own mind now, and no one would talk me out of it. Her jaw clenched for a moment before she relaxed.