From Where I Watch You

by Shannon Grogan

  She sits up and flicks the lighter on again. “Okay. At my house, because your Harry Potter cupboard of a room sucks. Bring cookie dough. I’ll take care of the rest.” She stands up, cracking her knuckles. “Hey let’s watch all the Saw movies, too. I’ll call ya later.” As she leaves I hear her snap, “Forget it, boner boy. You know she’s way too good for you!”

  When I whip around, Noelle’s hurtling out the door. I don’t even have time to yell anything to her before she gets out. My face feels hot and I want to sink down into the booth and hide.

  I see now that Hayden is the only one left in the café with me, besides a couple my mom’s age. The dishwasher hums in the back. I know it’s not Charlie because it’s his day off.

  “C’mere.” Hayden says, pointing to the seat next to him. He closes his laptop.

  “I should go back upstairs,” I say.

  “You’re too smart to be friends with Noelle.”

  So now what? I’m getting the older brother talk? “You don’t know her, Hayden.”

  “Yeah, I know her. Girls like her. Nothing there. Nothing to see. Unlike you.”

  This all puts me on the defensive. I feel normal again. And it feels good. “She’s pretty much my only friend these days.”

  Hayden chews his lip, as if wanting to say something but not sure how. “People kind of ditch you after someone close dies. Or maybe you ditch them. I haven’t figured out which is which yet.”

  Now I don’t feel so normal anymore. My pulse quickens. “What do you mean?”

  He shakes his head. “Forget it.”

  “Did that happen to you, too?”

  He nods, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  “Look, I’m sorry, Kara,” he says. “I don’t really want to talk about it. But I want you to know that I understand. I know how it feels.”

  Thank God, because I don’t want to talk about it, either. “Thanks.”

  Hayden stays silent for a solid minute. I could congratulate him for not filling the silence with more condolences or the need for more details.

  “She drowned, right? Your sister?” he finally says. “I knew someone who drowned, too.” He reaches out to pick at an old scratch in the table.

  I shake my head. “Look, your friend probably didn’t drown like Kellen did. Like, how many people are stupid enough to get drunk at a party and then fall into a swimming pool in October? Who does that?”

  There’s a clang in the kitchen that makes me flinch. Raul’s obviously dropped something again. But Hayden doesn’t seem to notice. Instead he rubs his neck with one hand and starts tapping his fingers on the laptop with the other, frowning at the screen.

  I sit back and offer nothing more because I really don’t want to talk about Kellen. Another clang from the back fills the silence and I wonder if I should go check on Raul to make sure he didn’t fall or something, anything to get us off the topic of my sister.

  Hayden closes the laptop. “Sorry about that. I mean . . . I hate when people are only half-there, but I do it all the time.”

  I nod. A rush of warmth goes through me.

  “You seem pissed at her, Kara.”

  “Huh? Oh. Can we talk about something else please?”

  “Sure.”

  “Where’s your girlfriend?” I hear myself ask.

  “Ah . . . we’re on a break.”

  Before Charlie came back, this news probably would’ve put me over the moon. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not. Hey, remember a couple of weeks ago when we talked about my grandma, the baker? Remember I told you she was Greek? And she couldn’t speak English so she showed her love by baking us treats?”

  I don’t remember at all. But he smiles and the fact that I notice again how incredibly good-looking he is makes me feel bad about Charlie for some reason. I don’t remember us talking about his Greek grandma ever, do I? But it doesn’t matter since I forget stuff all the time.

  He continues. “She reminds me of you a little.”

  “Thanks, Hayden. I remind you of your grandma. Nice.”

  “No, no. Just in her dedication to what she loved doing. Baking. Like you. That’s why you remind me of her. It’s a compliment, trust me. Back in her village she baked for everyone. That was before she came to America. I miss her baklava.”

  “Really, Hayden? A village?”

  He nods like everyone lives in a village, and I feel dumb so I quickly say, “Give me her recipe and I’ll make it for you sometime.”

  Hayden’s arm is practically around me and I feel the soft cotton of his sleeve against my neck under my ponytail. When he leans down, strands of his dirty blond hair fall over his forehead and his lips are inches from mine.

  “You’d do that for me? Make me her baklava?”

  “Mm-hmm. Phyllo dough is kind of tricky but I can do it.”

  Outside the shop a face peers in. If it weren’t for the letterman jacket catching my eye, I wouldn’t have noticed him staring in at us. What the hell? Maybe now that he’s seen Hayden he’ll leave me alone.

  I’m just about to tell Hayden but all thoughts are gone because he’s caught my chin in his fingers. His eyes flicker back and forth between my eyes and my mouth and then his lips are on mine.

  “Thank you, Kara.”

  I don’t have time to think about how quick the kiss is because he kisses me again, harder.

  A thousand and one thoughts are going through my mind.

  You’re just a fuckin’ baby, Kara.

  It feels wrong. My arms were dangling at my side, but now I push my hands into his chest. He sits back and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. My lips tingle. Before Charlie came back, I’d pictured this moment with Hayden a gazillion times, and in my dreams I’d been happy and floating on air. But my mind is taking me somewhere else, back to a memory, and now that it’s done, all I can do is try not to be sick or cry and hope that he’s not mad at me.

  Again he kisses me, quick and soft on the lips before he slides out of the booth. “I need to go.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I catch a flash of red across the room. Kellen disappears around the corner, her black ponytail peeking out of the top of her red hoodie.

  At the door, Hayden doesn’t notice my sister, but turns and smiles at me, saying something I can’t hear. His face looks apologetic. Or pitying. Or maybe both. Probably about how I’m just a high school baby who’d never be able to meet his college guy needs anyway.

  As soon as he’s out the door I want to go look for Kellen. But then I remember she’s dead. I’m frozen in the booth, shaking.

  Friday after my shift at Crockett’s, I pick up cookie dough. I have Justine wrap it in a brown bag for me because a real baker should never be seen with store-bought dough. I’m looking forward to just hanging out with Noelle and forgetting the weird stuff that’s been happening to me.

  While I sit at the bus stop, my cell signals a new text: Chg o plans. Me & M ok. Hang @ wrk tomm?

  My feet won’t budge. I close the message, unaware the bus has arrived until the driver hollers at me if I’m getting on or not? I check the time of the message—an hour ago, when I was still working. Then I delete it.

  I feel like I’m always standing outside those circular fences at the carnival, waiting for my turn on the Tilt-A-Whirl. I watch and wait as everyone else goes in and my turn never comes. I can’t wait to get out of here and be off to college. I set the tub of cookie dough on the bench; maybe someone will want it. Then I trudge toward home.

  Noelle keeps texting me: R U ok? Sorry. Hafta b w/hm. We’ll do it soon. Promise.

  I let her off the hook by texting her back that I have so much homework it’s probably for the best.

  Ok. Def good thing<3

  Whatever. At the café, every table’s full and parties wait. Mom blows m
e a kiss and mouths, We are so blessed. She says it so often I can read her lips.

  Upstairs, I take a shower, because I don’t know what else to do. With my hair wrapped in a towel, I sit in the window seat and watch the happy people strolling along the twinkly lit Ave in the frigid evening.

  Down a block, El Diablo Coffee looks full and I think of Charlie.

  I haven’t seen him in a while and I wonder if he’s there. Below me, muffled voices and laughter make the emptiness around me unbearable, so after combing out and drying my hair, I change into my favorite jeans and T-shirt.

  My hand is almost on the doorknob when a loud knock, knock, knock scares me from the other side.

  Mom wouldn’t knock on the door. Noelle would knock and yell.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  It happens again, only louder. Three knocks. What the hell?

  I listen carefully, still hearing the muffled voices downstairs. I can’t hear anything outside my door and I stand there waiting, my heartbeat picking up speed, while my cheek presses against the door to hear better.

  Minutes tick away.

  Then the thudding of footsteps hurrying downstairs and the amplified noise of diners as whoever was just outside my door opens the first-floor door that leads into the café. The door only Mom and I are allowed through. The door only Mom and I have a key for.

  Twenty minutes later I’ve calmed down enough to go down to the kitchen and pull out ingredients for royal icing, intending to test out a design for the contest on some sugar cookies I’d baked and stuck in the freezer.

  Before I mix I creep around the corner to see if Charlie’s washing dishes. Maybe Charlie came to the door? But changed his mind? This is what I’m hoping but deep down I know it wasn’t Charlie at my door.

  Disappointment must show on my face because Raul, the regular dishwasher, smiles at me over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Kara. Charlie’s off.” Then he winks. “If you were wondering.”

  My mouth opens but nothing comes out, and I hurry back to my section of the kitchen. I try not to think of what Charlie might be doing or who he might be with.

  When I turn around, Kellen’s sitting on the counter.

  She stares at me. There’s softness in her eyes, something I never saw when she was alive.

  “This is not happening,” I say, maybe to her, I’m not sure. I think briefly of Mom, and of her insistence that Kellen visited her after she died. “You’re dead. Go away, Kellen.”

  Even as I say it I’m not sure I mean it. I’m not sure about much anymore. My sister is trying to make me crazy like Mom. Even in death she has to try and get me.

  Raul pops around the corner. “You okay, Kara? Who you talkin’ to?”

  “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

  He nods and disappears around the corner.

  My notebook sits there, opened to my last sketches. The corner of a familiar blue-gray envelope sticks out from the pages.

  How did I not see this before? I think as I rip it open.

  You’re nothing like the first.

  June: Thirteen-Year-Old Carrot’s

  Summer Fun Before High School

  Everyone looks at us now. Kellen grabs her bag and climbs over the rope to the sidewalk. The pizza in my mouth is a chunk of wood I can’t swallow. I watch my sister storm off down the Ave, leaving me there with Nick and Tad.

  “Shit,” Tad mutters, shaking his head. “She’s a fuckin’ nut job.” He points at me. “You can tell her I said so!” He grabs another slice of pizza, folds it in half, and crams it into his mouth.

  I’m not sure what to do, follow her or stay. I keep hoping that she’ll yell for me to come with her.

  “Aw, Christ,” Tad mutters, his mouth full. He hops out of his chair and over the rope, walking fast in the direction that Kellen went.

  I still can’t believe she left me. I’ve been to the Ave a zillion times but never by myself. Mom only started letting me come here with friends a couple months ago. She’s going to be so pissed at Kellen when she finds out.

  Nick puffs his cheeks out with a long exhale. “I’ll walk you home when you’re ready, kid.”

  He wipes his mouth, sighs, and checks his watch and phone.

  I nod.

  I’ve been around Nick enough, just never alone so I’m nervous about going with him. What do I say? He’s seventeen. I’m thirteen and feel like more of a baby than ever. I push my plate away and shuffle my flips flops underneath the table.

  “Finished?” Nick asks, looking at his watch again.

  “Yeah,” I wipe my hands off on a napkin and stand up. I have to pull my sundress off my butt because it’s stuck there from my damp swimsuit.

  Nick tosses a five on the table and walks out to the sidewalk. He waits, hands in his pockets, staring across the street and I hurry over, even though I don’t want to walk with him because I see this is such a burden for him—walking the baby home.

  “I can walk myself, okay? I’m old enough and I know the way home,” I tell his backside as I walk past him. For some reason my eyes sting, threatening tears. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I stop and turn around. When he sticks his hands in his pockets I notice the tan and how the little hairs on his arm seem lighter than his skin.

  “Look, Kara, it’s getting dark and you shouldn’t be walking by yourself okay?” He’s in front of me and his mouth turns up with a hint of a smile. “I really don’t mind. Plans are kinda shot now anyway.”

  I follow behind when he starts walking and when he stops, I almost walk into his back. Over his shoulder he smiles. “You don’t need to walk behind me, kid.”

  I move up next to him and for the first time ever I notice how good he smells. Clean. Not bathed in cologne like my dad—just clean. I keep up with him and notice he’s slowed down a bit. I catch a whiff of Fritos. Ugh, my swimsuit.

  The peal of giggling girls comes from across the street. I recognize some of them from school but we aren’t friends. Nick and I are waiting for the light to change so I move a little closer to him and smile. The noise hushes a bit and I know they’re impressed and I have a feeling that if we were in school tomorrow they’d be asking me about him. Their mouths hang open, and one whispers and points at us. I don’t think Nick notices them, but I flip my damp hair to one side and stand up taller. Should I grab his arm? Gaby would do it for sure.

  “Kara,” he starts and my stomach plunges because I think he’s onto me. “Back there, what they were saying, that was . . .” He doesn’t finish and we walk down toward my street. “Not right. They shouldn’t be talking like that in front of you, you know?”

  The light changes and the girls still whisper and stare at us as we cross the street. Suddenly I realize how silly and obnoxious they seem. I’m embarrassed for them.

  “I mean, really, you’re just a baby, a kid. I hope you just forget all that, everything they said. It was wrong of them, okay?”

  “Yeah but I’m not really a kid anymore. I’m almost fourteen.”

  Nick chuckles and pats my back in a brotherly sort of way. I shrug my shoulder away from his hand, so sick of being called a baby today. I make a great effort to walk ahead of him and when I see my street, I decide I don’t need him to walk me the rest of the way so I run. My flip flops are still damp and squishy and chafing the heck out of the spaces between my toes. Gnats are buzzing into my face. Nick calls out after me, but I ignore it because there’s no way I’m crying in front of him and showing what a baby I really am.

  10. Beat to stiff peaks.

  ..........................................................

  My latest ridiculous thought is that my dead sister is leaving me the notes.

  It’s crazy, yes. But I feel crazy right now.

  I’ve been sitting here with Noelle, deciding if I’m going to tell her about the notes, but I see that guy with
the varsity jacket. “Noelle, who is that guy over there, sitting with the jocks?”

  She turns around. “Which one?”

  “The guy on the end, he’s looking at us now.”

  “Umm, I forget his name, but I’m pretty sure he had a very hot older brother. I remember him from parties, but I can’t remember his name, either. Why? Are we hot for him now, too?”

  I ignore this and she turns back to look at him.

  “He is cute, but not like his brother . . .” Noelle slams her hand down on the table. “Noah! His name’s Noah.”

  Her cell distracts her, which is good because I’ve changed my mind and don’t want to get into the whole stalker thing with her right now.

  When she gets off her cell, I avoid any more comments about Noah by telling her I saw Kellen again.

  “What did she do this time?” Noelle asks, picking at the pizza on her cafeteria tray.

  “Nothing, just—”

  “How exciting.” She takes a bite of pizza and then talks with her mouth full. “So does she say how Elvis is doing these days?”

  I stare at my chicken burger, deciding if I really want lunch at all. “Can you be serious?”

  Noelle finishes chewing before she speaks again. “I don’t know, Kar. What do you want me to say? That I think you’re crazy? Or that I think maybe you need to believe your mom when she says Kellen visited her and told her to make her Jesus soup?”

  I hate that Mom’s craziness could’ve been caused by my dead sister. But it certainly fits with Mom’s current version of events: a few weeks after Kellen drowned, Mom went to the couch with her wine, and the next day she claimed to have had a near death experience where my sister waited in the light and told her to go back, sell our house, and open the café. Putting yourself to sleep with two bottles of wine could make your dreams unusually strange, right? At least that’s what I thought back when it happened.

  But it was weird, the way everything changed so quickly. One day she was catatonic, the next she had the first smile on her face in months, and she had a mission.

  “Hey, Noah!”