Because of Him

by Jessica Roe

  “Well can't we just sleep in your car and call her in a few hours?”

  “Okay, how 'bout we make a deal? I let you be a big ol' scaredy cat and sleep in the car for a few, then in the morning we go back and see Grams.”

  I heave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But I'm only staying an hour, then I'm gone.” I pretend like I'm pissed, but really I think I'd agree to anything with Silver smiling adoringly at me over his shoulder like that. Who am I kidding? I'd probably agree to anything even if he was shooting me his grumpy old man frown.

  He looks smug as we climb inside the Jeep. I'm pretty sure he's convinced that between now and tomorrow he's going to be able to persuade me to stay, but he's wrong. I've made up my mind and even he can't change it. I mean, what does he think is going to happen? I'll just move in with him and Granny Yo while I finish up my senior year? Because that wouldn't be incredibly awkward.

  No, I'm leaving Fortune for good. And I'm never coming back.

  Yeah, he can kiss my fingers and send me smitten glances all he wants. It won't work. It won't work. It. Won't. Work.

  We both know the respectable thing to do would be for one of us to take the front seat and one of us take the back, but of course we don't do that. With an unspoken agreement, we curl ourselves around each other in the back underneath Silver's jacket, our combined body heat keeping us warm even on such a cold night. I tell myself that's the only reason we're doing this—warmth—but it's such a lie. This is probably the last time I'll see Silver and I just want to touch him and smell him and be with him.

  The bench seat is narrow and I'm practically laying on top of him. Every inch of us presses together: our legs entwined, our arms wrapped tightly around each other, our noses brushing. He runs his fingers up and down my spine, sending shivers racing through me, and places sweet kisses on my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, as I laugh quietly. But he never kisses my lips. For some reason that's a line neither of us is willing to cross, like it would be a step too far and would somehow destroy the magic of our stolen night together.

  Silver looks so happy. It's amazing to watch him this way, so free and uninhibited. I'm so used to the stiff, troubled teacher or the despairing neighbour always holding himself back that this feels like magic all by itself. I think I fall even more in love with him the sweeter he is. Like me, he seems to recognize our bubble, something that for right now, no one else can penetrate. He understands that we only have so much time before this blissful moment of piece is gone forever.

  And as we lay together, I just desperately hope this is the memory Silver will keep of me after I'm gone.

  IT'S LIGHT OUTSIDE the next time I open my eyes. I'm surprised because despite how happy we were to be in each other's embrace, the back seat wasn't exactly comfortable for me or Silver and I was so sure I wasn't going to sleep. But the sky outside is alight with swirls of pale blue and pink, and even though we were only out for a couple of hours, I feel oddly rested.

  A bleary eyed Silver is already awake, smiling down at me. “This is nice,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. “Waking up with you, I mean.”

  Words escape me, so I just mewl sleepily and cling to the front of his t-shirt.

  He runs back inside the diner for coffee and doughnuts—because that's the only kind of breakfast I can deal with right now—and then we drive back to his place. I try sweet talking him into stopping by Nancy first but he refuses point blank, sure that I'll just drive straight out of town. He's right. It's annoying, but I also kind of like that my manipulations don't work on him.

  He reaches over for my hand and holds it while he drives, resting it on his thigh.

  By the time we get home it's pushing six am.

  Opening my door like a real gentleman, Silver helps me out of the Jeep and smiles down at me comfortingly, but I don't return it. I can't, not when I'm standing in almost exactly the same spot that everything in my life imploded. Oliver's house sits across the street, looming. I mean seriously, did it always loom like that?

  I wonder if I can get Silver to go over there and find out some information about Jemma without revealing that I'm here?

  He stands in front of me and takes both my hands in his, looking down into my eyes in sad, resigned silence. Our little bubble of serenity it about to burst and we both know it. We have to stop touching now.

  Right now.

  Seriously, right now.

  Any minute now.

  “I don't want to lose you,” he whispers, sounding tortured, and I think I die a little inside.

  And then like some kind of crazy de-ja-vu nightmare scene, Oliver's front door slams open, the sound echoing down the quiet street. Felicia, still in the clothes she wore last night, flies down the porch steps and across the road towards us.

  Bubble burst. Our time is over.

  My heart lodges in my throat—coming back here was a serious mistake. I'd thought for sure they'd still be at the hospital. If I'd known that wasn't true there wouldn't have been a chance in hell I'd have agreed to come here, no matter how cute Silver was being.

  He drops my hands and moves in front of me like he's my protector, which is all kinds of sweet, but it doesn't make much of a difference. Felicia shoves him aside with a surprising amount of strength and her hands reach out for me and then she...

  ...hugs me.

  Felicia hugs me.

  And I'm like, oh, so this is what it feels like to be hugged by a mom. Because it's that kind of hug, with my head squished into her shoulder and I'm all enveloped by her warmth and she's making cooing noises like I'm an effing baby. It's weird, and not just because my arms are hanging stiffly by my sides. But it's also nice...and very confusing.

  “Felicia,” I speak up, my voice muffled. “What-”

  “I'm sorry,” she cries, squeezing me so tight I lose my breath. “So sorry. So very, very sorry.”

  I manage to peel her arms away and disentangle myself, taking a large step back. I eye Silver but he looks just as freaked out as me.

  Behind his tearful wife, Oliver approaches, slowly and hesitantly like he's sneaking up on a flighty deer. I'm just not sure if the deer is me or Felicia. He's red eyed and has obviously been crying too.

  My heart all but stops. “Jemma?”

  “She's fine,” he assures me quickly. “Upstairs in bed, sleeping.”

  Upstairs? Not in the hospital? “But I thought...”

  Granny Yo joins us outside, and Felicia and Oliver take it in turns to explain.

  So it turns out Jemma never took any drugs. She was just super, super, super drunk, which I guess is still bad but it's not, you know, drugs. So there's that. They thought they might have to pump her stomach at one point, but they didn't even have to do that in the end. When Imelda finally sobered up enough to speak to her parents she confessed about Jemma asking me for drugs. I guess my talk with Jemma really did change her mind after all because she was the one who persuaded Imelda not to do them either.

  “You saved my baby,” Felicia praises, but I shake my head in denial. If I'd just gone to Oliver and Felicia and told them about the stupid party in the first place instead of being a stubborn ass, none of this would have happened.

  “Come home,” Oliver pleads quietly.

  Felicia nods. “Please?”

  I take a hesitant step back. A hand squeezes my shoulder and I can tell from the cloud of floral perfume surrounding me that it's Granny Yo. She gives me courage. “I don't know...”

  “Just for a talk,” Oliver bargains, sensing my reluctance. “Let's just start with a talk.”

  SO WE TALK; we talk for a really, really long time.

  Granny Yo and Silver stayed back at their place, the kids are all in bed, Nash back at his apartment and Zac asleep in his room upstairs, so we're alone and uninterrupted. Felicia makes me hot chocolate—from scratch—and we talk about everything that's been wrong since I've lived here, from their judgement and disregard to their general crappy treatment of me. They're not the only ones in the wro
ng—I never exactly tried to talk to them about any of this, or anything at all. We even talk about my mom, and Oliver is finally ready to hear about my childhood and the way I grew up. Felicia cries a lot and Oliver says he should have come for me sooner. I don't argue.

  And then he tells me he's proud of me and to my shame, I cry too. He says he's been holding all these fatherly feelings for me in because he didn't want to upset Felicia, and she admits it was wrong of her to make him feel that way. He's been keeping up to date with my (admittedly awesome) school work and he's pleased with how I've kept out of trouble. He's proud of how I've turned out, even without any help from him.

  It's seriously emotional and all I want to do is run away, but I don't because they're really trying, and I need to do the same.

  They promise that things are going to be different from now on. Oliver tells me he wants to really get to know me, which seems crazy as we've been living together for six months, and yet isn't crazy at all. Felicia vows to make more of an effort with me, and I do the same with her, because this can't be a one sided thing. There's even talk of family group therapy, which I've got to admit I don't hate the sound of.

  Oliver asks me to stay, he begs me to stay. I'm still not sure, but in the end he convinces me with talk of graduating high school and going to college.

  We don't hug or anything, because...yeah, no. But it's still a moment. Ugh, a moment. Seriously, who am I?

  I don't know what will happen now, if things really will be different or if I'll just keep on existing here until graduation before leaving and never looking back, but we're all willing to try and that's kind of more important than anything.

  Eventually I drag myself upstairs to get some more sleep. I'd need it even if I hadn't only had a couple of hours sleep last night in the car because that conversation was emotionally draining.

  My first impulse is to call Silver and tell him everything because as usual, he's the first and only person I want to speak to, but then I remember I don't have a phone any more.

  I check in on Jemma but she's buried under her covers. I smile; it'll be a while before she re-emerges to face her shame...and our parent's wrath.

  Finally back in my own room, I flop down face first on my bed. Why had I never realized how comfy it was before? I should probably shower and change—I smell like an enticing cross between the smoky bar and the greasy diner—but I'm too effing exhausted.

  Not two minutes later I hear a quiet knock and I moan into my pillow. Let me sleep, yo!

  “Blair, it's me.” My fatigue is instantly forgotten when I hear Zac's voice. I sit up, my eyes wide. I don't think I can face him right now.

  He knocks again. “You awake? Can I come in?” He opens the door even as he speaks. Of course he does.

  I immediately lay back down, facing away, like a possum playing dead. Hopefully he'll think I'm asleep and leave.

  “I know you're not really sleeping, I'm not leaving.” Damn it. “Can we talk?”

  “No.” I hate how hoarse my voice sounds. I hadn't wanted him to know he'd affected me so much.

  I feel the bed dip down as he sits. He nudges my hip tentatively. “I'm sorry,” he says, and I'm surprised by how shaky his voice is. “I hate those things I said to you. I hate me for saying them.”

  “You hurt me more than anyone,” I blurt out, still unable to turn. If I look at him I'll cry again, and I'm all cried out. “When I moved here you were the first person to...”

  “I know. But you know, that's what brothers and sisters do...they fight.” He voice lifts up, but it's forced, like he's really hoping I'll believe it but doesn't think I actually will.

  “You told me I'm not your sister.”

  “I didn't mean it.” He sniffs, and it surprises me enough that I finally face him. He isn't crying, but he looks really close. “If you could just forgive me...”

  “It's harder for me to forgive you than them. You were the one person in this family that I felt closest to.”

  He nods encouragingly. “I feel the same way about you, we connected right away.”

  I close my eyes. “It hurts to look at you right now.”

  “Blair,” he chokes out. “Please forgive me.”

  “I will,” I promise. “Just not right now. I need a little time before you can be my brother again.”

  He breathes a sigh of relief, laying his head down on the pillow next to mine. Our hair blends together, the colours so similar that it's hard to tell where his ends and mine starts. “I've got time, I'll make it up to you. I'm taking a week or two before I go back to college. You wait, I'm not gonna leave your side until you forgive me. You'll see that I never stopped being your brother.” That sounds like more of a threat than a promise, but I let him have it. I think about telling him to get out of here, but in the end I let him stay. His presence is kind of comforting. Just as I'm finally drifting off to sleep, he says, “Nash never doubted you, you know. Not even for a minute.”

  “He didn't?” I ask tiredly, yawning widely.

  “Naw. He was fighting your corner every step of the way. The role reversal is kind of ironic, huh?”

  I sigh. “Go to sleep, Zac.”

  “'Kay. Sweet dreams, little sis.” He shifts, and the smell of hospital disinfectant drifts across, mixing in with my own delightful stench. I'm glad we're laying on top of the covers and not in them.

  And after everything that's happened, after the drama and the heartbreak and the fighting and the betrayal, everything is...okay.

  It feels like everything is going to be okay.

  THINGS ACTUALLY DO get better. A lot better.

  It only took Zac about half a day to get me to forgive him. Turns out he's a persistent little sneak, and...well, I just can't stay mad him. Also he bought me a new phone. It's pretty and pink and...oh man, I'm damaged. Ah, screw it, who cares—I like it.

  Jemma was grounded, of course. Until she graduates, according to Oliver, but I have no doubt she'll sweet talk him into whittling down her time. For the first week after The Jemma Incident—as we've all taken to calling it because we know it pisses her off—everyone kept treating me like the golden child which was just weird. It was funny for a while—once again because it pissed Jemma off so much—but it got old real fast. It wasn't long before my grumpy attitude reminded everyone that I'm not effing perfect.

  But Jemma is changing. I guess the whole thing made her realize she doesn't need to live her life by peer pressure. She even sits with the gang and I at lunch every now and then; the bond she struck up with Sadie is particularly strange (and amusing) to watch.

  Oliver and I have started spending time together. Seriously, like...actual father/daughter bonding time. The kind of thing I silently mocked when I first moved here. On Sundays we take a couple of hours just for the two of us, which somehow turned into weekly visits to play golf. I mean...golfing. At the country club. It's really lame and yet kind of...relaxing. I won't be telling him that though—he'd be insufferably smug.

  It's not like things are perfect between us, and I don't plan to call him dad any time soon (though he did ask me to at least call him Oli), but we're getting to know each other and that's pretty great. Therapy helps.

  Things between Felicia and I are even cool...ish. Last week she scolded me for breaking curfew (yeah, I have a curfew now...ugh) just like she would one of her other kids, and later she pinched my cheek and gave me an affectionate kiss on the top of my head. It was all so normal and...mom like. Zac dropped the two of us off in the city on his way back to college and we spent the day getting lunch and shopping. It was the first time we'd been alone together and for an hour we were all awkward and way too polite. After a while she'd spotted a Gothic clothing store and asked if I'd wanted to go take a look. I didn't—Goth isn't my style, though I appreciated her making the effort—but I thought it'd be funny to see her face when she got inside so I agreed. She surprised me. During the next hour we both laughed our asses off as she tried on various ridiculous outfits. I guess i
t kind of broke the ice because things were much easier between us after that. She even took a couple things home to surprise Oli with which was just...ew. Yeah, I really wish she hadn't shown them to me. Not cool.

  So that's kind of my life now. It isn't perfect, but it sure as hell doesn't suck.

  My jar is getting fuller by the day.

  ALMOST A MONTH after The Jemma Incident, I get to history class one day to find Silver missing and a sub in his place. He never misses school so I worry for a moment as I settle into my seat, but in the end I tell myself to get over it, knowing he's probably just sick.

  Despite Silver coming for me that day, we went back to staying away from each other. It's hard, but we both know it's for the best. It's easier, safer. Honestly, I was dealing with so much other crap with my family that I didn't need the extra drama, and I think he knew that. Strangely our separation doesn't feel as bad or as angst riddled as it did before. I mean, it still hurts and I miss him every single day, but it's sort of...okay. Maybe that amazing night holding each other was just what we needed for closure. Thankfully no one questioned why we arrived home together; I think they just assumed he'd picked me up that morning and I sure wasn't about to tell them otherwise.

  “Hey, Jem, you still grounded?” I hear Imelda ask my sister, directing my thoughts away from our missing history teacher.

  Jemma huffs with dramatic flair. She does everything with dramatic flair. “Yeah, for like, the rest of my life.”

  “Think your mom and dad will let you out just this once for my birthday this weekend? Daddy said I could throw a party. Supervised...but it's still a party, so, you know.”

  “I could try,” Jemma responds, but she sounds doubtful. “I wouldn't count on it though.”

  Imelda turns to me. “What about you, Blair? You're not grounded, right?”

  Oh yeah, turns out Imelda kind of likes me now. I don't even really get why, but she seems to think we're friends. Last night while visiting Jemma she invited herself up to my room and insisted we paint our toenails in matching colours. It was seriously annoying. But it's better than the name calling, and she's not that bad, I guess.