The Insomniacs

by Marit Weisenberg

  I wanted to know if Van was sleeping, if he’d had some kind of shift or closure or whatever it was he needed to pass through. As usual, from the moment I woke up to the moment I fell asleep and probably even in my dreams, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Why had I ever thought that was going to change? Now it would only be worse.

  My mom stooped to collect dirty clothes from my floor. I tried to intervene and scoop them up before she had to. “Ingrid, stop. It’s okay.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She looked sad, like she’d trained me too well, that I was always concerned she’d be frustrated with me. When she straightened, something caught her eye out the street-facing window and she wandered over. A huge smile broke out over her face. “Look at them. Those boys,” she said affectionately.

  There was a catch in my stomach as I joined her. Below, Van, Max, and Wilson were gathered together for pictures. They were dressed up for prom—all three of them in dark suits and so handsome. I wasn’t used to Van looking this way. It was almost hard to look at him because he took my breath away.

  All three sets of parents had agreed to let the boys go tonight. They were on the Moores’ lawn, snapping photos as Kevin ordered the boys to move from the shadows. The boys didn’t look or act cocky like they would have in a photo like this a year ago, even three months ago. They had lost a little boyishness. For the first time in a long time, there was a lightness in the air. I realized what was different—everyone seemed to be looking each other in the eye.

  My mom laughed to herself and tilted her head. Through her silky hair, I caught a glimmer of her favorite silver earrings, the ones she wore back when she could still carry me. I would watch them dangle and sway as she walked. And laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “I was just about to tell you to go over there and thank Van. But you got it, I’m not making you do anything.”

  “Thank him for what?”

  “For stopping by your diving practice. I can’t believe how sweet that was. I told Lisa today was your first day back and how nervous you were.”

  “Mom!”’

  “Sorry! Anyway, I ran into her in the driveway and she said Van told her you did great. You two may not interact very much, but he is a loyal friend. It’s like perfect bookends that he was there when you got hurt and there to see you return. Almost like he felt responsible.”

  “Wait a minute. He went to my practice?” My voice seemed to go up three octaves.

  I saw my mom try not to smile. “You wouldn’t even let me go!” She reset her eyes on the boys, considering them. “I think the three of them will be okay. They have their families. They have each other, at least for one more year.”

  “I think those three will be close forever.”

  My mom consulted the pink clock by my bed. “I hate to do it but I’ve got to get going. I have the next two days off, though. Let’s get out of here tomorrow and do something together.” I loved her for not asking me what I was doing tonight and making me feel self-conscious that I hadn’t been asked to prom.

  I placed my head on her shoulder for just one second, allowing myself to depend on her. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you so much. Congratulations on today. That couldn’t have been easy.” She pressed her lips to my forehead and then I heard her gentle tread on the stairs.

  From behind my pane of glass, I watched as the boys broke apart after the photo session. Van laughed at something Wilson said. Then, I wasn’t sure if I imagined it, but I thought Van raised his eyes to my window. I held my breath.

  Kevin came over to Van’s side and clapped him on the back as if wanting to take some credit for the smart, considerate adult Van was clearly becoming. It was shining from Van tonight. Maybe Kevin did deserve a little credit. He’d made life stable for Van and in turn Van was protective of the people he loved.

  Kevin followed Van to the driver’s side of the car and, a whole head shorter, leaned in close to Van as if to impart wisdom or warnings: Don’t drink and drive; use a condom; keep an eye on your cup. Van nodded his bent head as in, Yeah, yeah, but when he looked up he was smiling good-naturedly. Then the boys piled into the car and drove away into the evening. Probably to go pick up their dates—pretty girls in pretty dresses.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my gray sweats. Outside, the early evening yelled promise and spring and I craved something I couldn’t put my finger on. Excitement, maybe. The thought of a beginning, of starting fresh. A whole night ahead.

  If I settled in with Netflix, the night would pass like any night. But I didn’t want to be cooped up. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to be young, like the boys.

  I went out to the street to lose myself in the hustle and bustle of the neighbors still in front of the house next door. I trailed onto the sidewalk.

  Estate sale agents were coming in and out of the house, carrying boxes of items that hadn’t sold.

  “Ingrid! How are you?” I was greeted by nosy Mrs. Kitchen. But I didn’t mind. I was glad to see her, to not be alone. I stood with a crowd of women from the cul-de-sac and they accepted me in, like I belonged. They discussed their finds from the estate sale. One of them had scored a small flat-screen TV. Mrs. Seitzman felt awful for buying the wedding silver for only one hundred dollars.

  Mary Seitzman danced up to our small group. “What happened to the family, Mom? Did you ever hear?”

  Mrs. Seitzman opened her mouth to speak just as a smartly dressed estate sale agent passed by and interjected, “They’re in San Francisco. For an experimental cancer treatment for the husband. It’s very sad.”

  “They didn’t want their stuff?” Mary said it more as an exclamation.

  “It’s just stuff, honey. They have each other,” her mom said.

  “They told me they wanted a fresh start. That being together was the most important thing,” the agent said, and gave Mary an apologetic smile.

  I’d been so anxious about the little girl, but it was okay, she was loved.

  Mary plucked a doll from a nearby box. “They didn’t want the toys? Look at all of these toys. Boxes and boxes of them.” When she removed the doll, Mary revealed piles of the little girl’s artwork and photographs.

  That had been all I wanted when I was a child and my dad left. To get out of here. To start over. Away from these people and this cul-de-sac and their prying eyes.

  An agent wheeled a child’s bike down the driveway toward a truck bed filled to the brim with black trash bags. He lifted it up, the bike Van had once given me, and roughly heaved it on top of the other garbage.

  “Wait!” I wanted to cry out and jog after him and grab hold of my childhood that was rushing away from me. But, glued in place, I watched the truck pull out and drive off, the rusted handlebars of the bike jostling up and down. Then the truck turned the corner, out of sight.

  My phone buzzed and I flipped it over, my heart immediately pounding when I saw the message from Coach Mike.

  I’m so sorry.

  You’ve got it from here.

  “I hope she gets through it okay. She has a lot ahead of her,” Mary said.

  “Who?” I asked.

  Mary considered me. “This little girl.” She held out the photo in her hand for me to see. It was a school photo of the daughter, a fake beach background with cattails and sand dunes behind her, her two front teeth missing. In the picture, she was beaming. “I hope she remembers how happy she was once,” Mary said.

  I suddenly really liked Mary.

  Soon the sky was pinkening and the cars were pulling away from the once-abandoned house, now clean and empty and almost ready to put on the market. I wandered down the driveway, reluctant to return home. At the mailbox, I kicked away a tangle of overgrown plants from the curb with my flip-flop. Writing in the concrete caught my eye. Sarah was written in the cement where it had once been wet. I smiled to myself. The little girl had made her mark after all. She had lived here.

  I still lived here. And even long after my mom moved awa
y, I’d always think of this cul-de-sac as my home.

  * * *

  Gradually, I watched the sky grow darker and the Moore house lights grow brighter. The neighbors left the estate sale and the agents closed the last trunk and drove away. I lingered outside, wanting something so badly.

  I saw Lisa and Kevin in their kitchen window. Kevin said something that made Lisa laugh. From down the street came sounds of a kid practicing their clarinet. Mr. Kitchen worked on his bike in the driveway. Wilson’s mom Mira drove down the street and gave me a wave. I knew what she was thinking: Why isn’t Ingrid at prom?

  I wanted to be with the boys. It was the craziest thought but I wanted to be where they were. I wanted Van more than anything and for the first time, I didn’t fight the feeling.

  I’d held it in for years. I’d longed for him from across the street no matter how hard I’d tried to stop. And now I couldn’t go back to not having his friendship. Not just Van’s, all three of the boys’.

  The adrenaline kicked in. Then the daring feeling. It would be much safer to wait until morning or tomorrow afternoon when he woke up. I could just talk to him then.

  I ran upstairs to change.

  * * *

  I wore the same black dress I’d worn to the awards dinner, which was embarrassing, but otherwise it would have been jeans. I’d put my hair up like my mom’s and I’d tried to put on eye makeup the way I’d seen her do it. In the end, it didn’t look like me, and I shook out my hair and wiped away the eye shadow.

  I was tempted to leave my car in the fire lane so I could dash to it like Cinderella if everything went wrong.

  I opened the car door, feeling like I was going into free fall, amazed I wasn’t dying when I took the red carpeted steps into the rented park pavilion. Twinkling white lights lit the entrance. I inhaled and heaved open the heavy wood door that led into a foyer.

  I hesitated there, where the music was muted but surely blasting just behind a set of double doors where prom was taking place. What the hell was I doing?

  “Ingrid! Oh my god!” I was picked up from behind by Izzie.

  I turned to face her, still wrapped in her arms. Then I gave her a huge hug. For the first time in the history of our friendship, Izzie was the one to let go first.

  “Come join us!” Izzie seemed to sparkle from within.

  “Thanks for being my best friend, Izzie,” I said.

  She looked a little taken aback and then very pleased. “Thanks for being mine.”

  “Have you seen Van, by any chance?”

  Izzie tried to read my expression and was about to ask a million questions but seemed to stop herself. Then she simply said, “He’s here. By himself.”

  Izzie yanked open one of the doors and led me into an overly warm, dim room. It took my eyes a second to adjust. Dancing bodies were plastered onto the dance floor and more tiny lights gave off sparkles in the large room. There was something timeless about it. My heart picked up the beat of the bass. I knew where Van was before I looked.

  To my right, I saw Wilson standing above Max and Van who sat together at a table, looking like the cool kids. Wilson felt my stare and glanced up. I froze, expecting a blank look from him, but instead he gave me a welcoming smile. He bent down and whispered to Van. That one second before Van looked up was equivalent to the moment my feet left the board earlier in the day.

  We met eyes. Van didn’t smile but he didn’t look away. He was going to make me come to him.

  “Go!” Izzie gave me a gentle push.

  The three boys watched me as I picked my way around people and chairs to join them.

  “You’re here!” Wilson put his arm around me. I kissed his cheek and thought I felt Van bristle. Max stood up and fully encircled me in a hug. We hadn’t really spoken in years but time collapsed. I’d been there that terrible night and we’d known each other since we were small.

  When Max released me, I looked to Van. He didn’t stand up. The boys didn’t recede. They stood waiting to see what I would do next. Then, of course, the music stopped.

  “Hey,” I said to Van.

  “Hey,” he said. He wasn’t going to give me anything. No meeting me halfway.

  I was about to ask him if we could talk outside but then the music cranked up and it was impossible to hear. I stood over him like an idiot.

  Adrenaline washed down my body.

  I placed my hand on Van’s cheek, then I bent low and gently touched my lips to his.

  There was a gasp from the next table.

  I heard Van’s sharp intake of breath but he didn’t respond to the kiss.

  Dying, I straightened and didn’t wait around for what was going to happen or not happen next. People were staring and whispering. Wilson and Max said nothing. I didn’t know where Izzie was but surely she’d witnessed the whole thing.

  I turned and walked, trying to hold my head high. I heard a “What the hell, man?” from behind me. “You can’t eat, you can’t sleep because of her.”

  I made it through the heavy doors, which required a lot of muscle to open, and it was hard to look dignified. I expected the immediate recriminations, berating myself about what a bad idea that had been.

  Instead I was kind of worn out. And relieved that I had done it. Van knew where I stood. For once, when it came to him, I’d been honest.

  I almost had to laugh. I imagined Izzie’s texts asking me what was I thinking? How absolutely out of character that was; the athletic girl who actively avoided any unwanted attention had walked into prom and kissed the hottest guy in the junior class.

  I heard the wash of music strengthen and then fade again as the doors opened, then closed.

  “Don’t go.” Van’s voice was raspy.

  He put a hand on my shoulder and spun me around. “What did that mean?” he asked.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve always been sure. I was just scared.” I reached out for his hand and our fingers intertwined like that day in eighth grade.

  Van rested his forehead against mine. “It got to a point where I didn’t think I could spend one more night with you and not touch you. Then, that last night before Max, lying in your bed…” Unable to wait anymore, I silenced him with a kiss. Immediately, it escalated in intensity.

  Then Van tensed and stepped back but he still didn’t drop my hand. “I’m nervous. I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I’m scared it will happen again.…” He trailed off.

  “Don’t be,” I said. My voice held a challenge, egging him on, just like I had when we were seven years old and I was the daring one.

  There was a long pause before Van met my eyes again. This time, Van stepped forward and threaded both hands in my hair, bringing his lips down to mine. This beautiful person I’d stared at for years—in class, in the halls, from my bedroom.

  Vaguely, I heard the doors open once more, the loud voices and music pouring out.

  “Finally.” It sounded like Max. Or Wilson. It could have been either, or both.

  “Finally,” Van whispered.

  The doors closed and we deepened the kiss.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I have many people to thank for their help with this book.

  My thoughtful, smart, insightful editor, Sarah Barley, and the dream team at Flatiron Books.

  My agent, Kerry Sparks, for her enthusiasm, support, and for championing this story. I am so grateful for your partnership. Thank you, also, to Dominic Yarabe and the folks at Levine Greenberg Rostan.

  May Cobb, for your endless support. That is an understatement. Amanda Eyre Ward and Peternelle van Arsdale, for early reads and amazing editorial guidance.

  Kathryn Findlen, for fielding my diving-related questions and introducing me to Jonathan Wilcox who answered so many technical questions. Any mistakes are my own.

  Elizabeth Burns Kramer, for her expertise and willingness to talk about Ingrid’s psyche over and over again. Thank you for being an incredible friend.
<
br />   Megan Frederick, Meghal Mehta, Andre Beskrowni, Vivian Raksakulthai, Mina Kumar, Leila Sales, Leigh Sebastian, Crispa Aeschbach Jachmann, and Tara Goedjen, for either answering medical questions, plot questions, lending an ear, or all of the above.

  My mom and dad, Kathleen and David Weisenberg, for so much love and childcare. And always Kjersti, Rick, and Jack McCormick.

  My husband, Jeff Gothard, for seeing me through this book and lending sharp editorial skills and great story instinct along the way. And my girls, Astrid and Margot, who are growing up so fast. Thanks for being you and making me laugh.

  ALSO BY MARIT WEISENBERG

  Select

  Select Few

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Marit Weisenberg received her BA in English from Bowdoin College and her master’s degree from the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television. Marit has worked in film and television development at Warner Bros., Universal, and Disney. She lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband and two daughters. Her previous titles include Select and Select Few.

  Visit her online at www.maritweisenberg.com, or sign up for email updates here.

  www.twitter.com/MaritWeisenberg

  Thank you for buying this

  Flatiron Books ebook.

  To receive special offers, bonus content,

  and info on new releases and other great reads,

  sign up for our newsletters.

  Or visit us online at

  us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup

  For email updates on the author, click here.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight