While You're Away

by Jessa Holbrook

  Only now, I didn’t. Now I realized somebody could smile and look me in the face and talk about how great my sister was . . . and the whole time be cheating on her. It was a shock to look back at the holidays. Luke brought really thoughtful presents. He’d helped in the kitchen. He’d asked us questions about our lives and acted invested in our family. He’d laughed and smiled at Grace, and the whole time . . .

  No wonder Grace hadn’t seen it. None of us had.

  What could I say to make it better? Short of buying an intercontinental ballistic missile off Craigslist and aiming it straight for Luke’s fat, cheating head—I had nothing. Nothing but hugs I wasn’t sure she wanted, and tissue she kept destroying instead of using.

  Leaning over her, I kissed the crown of her head. Smoothing a hand down her hair, I said, “This sucks. I’m sorry, too, because it’s just going to keep sucking until one day, when you realize it sucks less.”

  “When?” she asked plaintively.

  “I don’t know.” With another kiss, I squeezed her. “But you know what? You’ll get through this. You’re smart, and you’re strong. Something better is waiting for you.”

  “That’s the worst part.”

  “What is?” I asked, filled with dread.

  “I don’t want something better. As stupid and sick as it is, I still want him.”

  Grace slipped to her feet. The look on her face brought me to tears. It was like someone had scraped out every bit of my big sister and left nothing but a shell behind. She haunted the hallway, gliding toward the stairs and onward to bed. She seemed so fragile. So insubstantial.

  The kitchen felt empty, now. The pale light from the stove seemed to struggle to light the space around me. It was like the room had surrendered with Grace.

  I couldn’t help but feel guilty, because I knew Tricia had gotten that same horrible call. Because of me. Is this what she’d looked like that day? Had she gone home to her sister and cried while she tried to be brave?

  Shoving those thoughts aside, I busied myself cleaning up confetti tissue. It didn’t matter that Will was going away. We weren’t doomed to the same fate. Yes, we’d gotten together under terrible circumstances. But I’d done my best to make up for it. Will was sorry, I was sorry—and we were different.

  Weren’t we?

  ~

  One Sunday morning, Will climbed to my window and lured me out at dawn. The grass still damp under our feet, he led me to the woods that separated our neighborhoods.

  The “woods” wasn’t much in the way of wilderness. The trees were just thick enough that you couldn’t see the fenced backyards on either side of it. Mostly, it was a shortcut that little kids used, their worn dirt paths marking the way. Sweet, trilling birds greeted the sunrise with unusual melodies. My hand fit in Will’s perfectly as we walked deeper along the path.

  “There’s rain coming,” Will said.

  We both smelled it in the heavy air. It was evident in the scarlet streaks the morning sun made across the clouds. Though there was no danger at all, I pressed closer to Will. I curled my arms around one of his, and kissed his shoulder. “Red sky by morning, sailor take warning.”

  Sharing a secretive smile with me, Will said, “Still holding on to that whole wisdom thing, Athena?”

  “Forever,” I replied.

  Then, he stopped me with a kiss. Just a taste, a promise for more later. And when he pulled back, he turned me to face an unexpected clearing in the woods. The brambles and thorns wound around the trees now instead of spilling across the ground. A thin carpet of grass blanketed the ground, the blades glittering with dew.

  “Call me crazy,” Will said, taking a step into the clearing. Pulling me with him. Unexpectedly, he sank to the ground and pulled me into his lap. He gathered me in his arms, his cheek rough against my hair. “But I thought you’d want to see this.”

  It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at. Then, all at once, the light changed. Subtle shadows traced the ground, revealing rings of mushrooms. Creamy brown, no bigger than my pinkie nail, they looped and whorled in the thin grass. Spider webs wove along the ground. Dew hung on the gossamer threads, catching the light like diamond chips.

  Enthralled, I murmured, “How did you know this was here?”

  With a roll of his shoulder, Will buried his face against my hair. “I woke up and I needed to see you.”

  “I like how this starts,” I said.

  Will rewarded me with a kiss. Then he tightened his arms around me, warm and possessive. “So I started to get in my car, but then I saw the old path. Something told me, Will, go that way.”

  “You know, that’s how people in horror movies end up dead,” I joked.

  Snorting, Will nudged me. “I wasn’t looking for a cat. I didn’t tell anybody I’d be back. And most importantly: I didn’t run through here in bare feet and pajamas.”

  Amused, I twisted in his arms. I fit so comfortably in them. Noses brushing, I couldn’t stop glancing down at his lips. But since he’d lured me out before brushing my teeth, I managed to resist. “All kidding aside, Will, thank you.”

  “For what?”

  How could I explain it? Meeting his gaze, I lost my breath. But I managed to speak all the same. “For knowing I’d want to see this. For being amazing. For loving me.”

  “You make it easy, Sarah.”

  Will wound one of my curls around his fingers. His studied expression swept over my face. All the teasing softened to emotion. The clearing became a quiet chapel, a sacred place for just the two of us. These were the moments I never tried to describe.

  How could I possibly explain the way my blood changed course to match Will’s? No one else would understand the fragile weight of the air when Will’s bravado melted to reveal his heart beneath. So I never explained. I just lived in these moments when they came, and clung to them once they’d passed.

  ~

  When the last day of our summer came, I sat in my front window and remembered those kisses in the clearing. The silvery perfection of his smile captured in the glass of the diving window. The sulfur still hanging in the air as we made love beneath a sky full of fireworks. The warmth of his body next to mine as we filled out my college application together.

  I wrapped those memories around me like a cloak. It was still August, the hottest part of summer, so it didn’t seem fair when the black Miata turned down our street. It wasn’t a car meant for packing up and going anywhere. It trailed heavy in the back end. The passenger seat was crammed so full of stuff, the window looked more like a picture frame. Just seeing his car loaded up that way made me want to cry.

  “So this is it,” Grace said.

  She’d walked so softly that I hadn’t heard her come up behind me. Concern etched her brow. Clutching a mug, she hovered close to the hallway instead of coming over to me.

  Hopping up, I said, “I’ll see him in a couple of weeks.”

  Grace offered a painful smile. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away. As bad as I felt for her, I sort of wished we were kids again so I could pull her hair and threaten to tell Mom. I was nervous enough about the future. Sometimes it felt like Grace was deliberately trying to make it worse.

  I wanted to be a good girlfriend. I didn’t want to be angry. Or upset, even though that’s how I felt. This was the last time I’d see Will for a while, and I wanted to send him away happy. Happyish. After a few more breaths, I was either calm or hyperventilating. I threw open the front door and bounded down the walk to meet Will.

  “I’m stuck,” he said sheepishly.

  Approaching the window, I leaned in and laughed. Somehow, he’d gotten his seat belt tangled with a nest of computer cables. Those cables snaked into the tightly packed block of stuff that filled the car. Some of it was obviously furniture. Some of it, clothes. But the rest? Who knew. It was a crazy Picasso of a pack job.


  With a teasing smile, I said, “Don’t get any ideas.” Then I leaned over him, right through the window. I felt his breath against the curve of my breast as I tamed the cable beast. The car door dug into my ribs. Halfway to dizzy, I finally managed to unsnarl him from his own trap. Sliding back out again, I opened the door and stepped back with a flourish. “Ta-da.”

  Almost as soon as the door opened, Will was out of it. He engulfed me in his arms. Newly aware of his scent, I buried my face against his shoulder.

  Tears rose up, violent and certain. I twisted my fingers in his shirt and blindly sought a kiss.

  I kept making deals with myself, or the universe: one more kiss, and I can let go. One more whispered I love you, and I can wave and say goodbye. It was never one, and I didn’t think I could do it. The only thing that centered me was the tension coiled in Will’s body. He clung to me just as desperately. It felt like he wanted to wrench us both to pieces.

  “We’ll Skype every night,” he promised. When he pulled his head back to look at me, I was stunned to see tears in his eyes, too. His pretty mouth contorted; he was better at holding things back. He was trying to be strong, for both of us.

  I nodded vehemently. “Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, texts, I’ll be there.”

  “Nobody’s on Facebook anymore,” he said, trying to joke.

  In reply, I hiccupped a sob. I thought it was going to be laughter, but instead, this awful sound rolled out of me. Like a strangled wail, it hung heavily between us, a dark and desolate sound.

  “Hey,” he said, catching my face between his hands. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, okay? We aren’t breaking up. There’s nothing to be sad about. You can’t fight destiny.”

  Because he said it, it was true. For that brief, bright moment, I was unafraid. I saw us on the other side of this—the two of us traveling the world. Stealing kisses in the shadows of ancient monuments, waking up on the banks of famous rivers. That’s what waited for us, our destiny. The two of us, together.

  Then the light went out. Will swept me up in another kiss. Instead of spiced, it was salted. The passion in it was dark, nothing but despair. It was a kiss that said goodbye in a thousand terrible ways. Then suddenly, I was cold. Will tore himself away from me. Deliberate. Desperate.

  With one look back, he tried to say something. All that came out was a faint, mourning whisper. His lips shaped the three words, but nothing more.

  “I love you, too,” I said, my voice broken.

  The edges of his strength crumbled. Revving the engine, he didn’t pull out so much as race away. The tires screeched against the pavement. Burned oil lingered in his wake. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stared at the distance growing between us, his car growing smaller. I kept on staring at nothing when he turned and disappeared from sight.

  I stared into the mocking blue sky as the ground gave way beneath me. Sinking to sit on the curb, I tried to make myself so small. Like maybe if I could just fold myself up tight enough, it would stop hurting.

  Now that he had gone, I let myself go. Great, jagged sobs tore through me. When I closed my eyes, they only got worse. Because when I closed my eyes, I couldn’t summon a single beautiful memory. They lingered just out of reach, taunting me with their happiness.

  “Come back to me,” I whispered. But it was too late. Will—my Will—was gone.

  TWENTY-ONE

  It looked like my music room had exploded.

  Paper covered every available surface. Approximately nine million Sharpies in various colors spilled across the floor like rainbow shrapnel. Jane had not one, not two, but three laptops linked together.

  I sat perched in my favorite chair with my feet tucked neatly beneath me. I didn’t dare put my feet on the ground. One wrong step and I would destroy my best friend’s storyboard.

  “I’m shooting for twenty-five minutes,” Jane said.

  “Is that including credits?”

  “Probably?” Then she shook her head. “No. I’m going to do a clean reel with B-roll footage.”

  I dutifully scrawled that answer down on my iPad, though I had to admit I didn’t know what any of it meant.

  My stylus swirled across the tablet screen.

  Just as I scribbled in opening and closing credits separate, a blue bird icon popped up.

  Dorm life is definitely better with good sheets. #sleepinglate

  He’d only been gone six days, and he was already waxing philosophical on dorm life? So cute. Since Jane had gone to that weird headspace that was “figuring out the shot list,” I sent a quick reply.

  Lucky sheets. #jealous

  Instantly, Will replied. Lonely sheets. Then, to illustrate just how lonely they were, he tossed in a link to a selfie.

  Sprawled back on a narrow twin bed, Will gazed right into the camera. The insane, icy blue of his eyes popped against his pillow. He touched a fingertip to his cheek. Lush lips turned down in an exaggerated frown—he tagged it #missingyou. It was the perfect comeback.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Jane exclaimed.

  Startled, I held up a hand. “I haven’t moved!”

  She paced just inside the living room. Every step ruffled the sheets on the floor, which made me weirdly nervous. I kept waiting for them to fly out of order. Then what would happen? Bolts of freak lightning from the sky? An epic, seizured meltdown?

  Jane pulled her hair back and scanned for something in particular. Then, she lunged. I actually flinched, which made me laugh.

  The blue bird bubbled to the top of my screen again. I stole just one glance at it while I waited.

  Hey, Athena, wanna go for a tour?

  A link taunted me. Splitting my attention between Jane and Will, I touched the screen to load the picture. At the same time, I looked back up at Jane. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to establish this with postcard pictures,” she said. I was completely lost, so she explained, “You know, all the scenic things that they put on the brochures and stuff. Come to East River—it’s not as lame as you think.”

  “Ohhh, like the Arts Garden.”

  “Exactly!” Jane stepped over her storyboard, then stopped abruptly. One foot hung in the air, like she was playing an arcane version of Twister that only she understood. “And the botanical garden, and the Pattens’ boathouse.”

  She was so distracted that I peeked down at Will’s latest picture. He’d gotten out of bed and pulled on a green St. P-Windsor sweatshirt. His hair stuck out at odd angles. From the jaunty tilt of his smile, he was just fine with that.

  A funny little pang opened in my chest. It was ridiculous to be sad that he was wearing a new shirt. Completely insane to be jealous that other girls were going to get to see him in all his rumpled glory. But I felt it all the same.

  He was handsome all of the time. It’s just, there was something especially irresistible when he had a case of bedhead first thing in the morning. Though for him, first thing in the morning was two in the afternoon for me.

  The room got too quiet. A little too late, I realized that Jane had said something and was waiting for me to reply. Swiping the picture off the tablet screen, I said, “Sorry, what?”

  “Don’t even,” Jane said. “I will literally kill you with my own two hands and bury you at the quarry if you turn into that person.”

  A blush colored my cheeks. Putting the iPad aside, I wrapped my arms around my knees. “I know, I know. The one who gets a boyfriend and disappears. I’m not, I promise. I just miss him. I’m trying to get used to it.”

  Bright, Jane said, “I have an idea that will make you feel better.”

  I leaned forward. “Yeah?”

  “You could commit to a project with somebody awesome.”

  I laughed. “Man, I don’t know. Where would I find somebody like that in East River?”

  With a great step over her storyboards, Jane
bounded from the room. Already halfway down the hall, she called back. “Try looking in your kitchen. Bitches like that are starving artists. They’re probably going to decimate this whole container of hummus.”

  Quick as I could, I texted Will. With Jane. Tour rain check? Will make it up to you tonight.

  In a testament to my deep and abiding love for Jane Dubinsky, I left the tablet behind without waiting for a reply.

  ~

  After my shower that night, I hopped online while I squeezed the water out of my hair with a towel. It usually took forever to get it dry enough to sleep on.

  That meant I had plenty of time for a tour of St. P-Windsor. Rather than contacting Will on Twitter, I sent a private message. It was one thing to flirt and tease in public, but I wanted some alone time with him, even if only digitally. Skimming my fingers over the screen, I shot off a message into the dark.

  I return triumphant, with my rain check.

  Hey, he replied. BRT, 2 min. Skype?

  I answered by opening the app. Setting my status to away, I waited for Will to appear. A little bleat caught my attention, a message coming in over chat. Touching the screen to bring it up, I felt a leaden weight in my belly. It wasn’t Will. It was Dave. He didn’t say hello. There were no pleasantries. A single line popped up, clipped and business-like.

  Checking gig calendar, are we still on for later this month?

  My fingers hovered over the screen. Once it was obvious that I really had moved on to somebody else, that there had been somebody else while we were still dating, Dave had gotten a little weird. Our texts were supposed to be about business now, and they were. But there was a definite frost that rimed them.

  Our calendar had been empty for most of the summer. I’d been splitting my free time between Will and writing music for myself. The longer the silence spread between us, the more uncomfortable it got. So I stared at Dave’s question for a long time before finally answering. It was a get-out-of-Dasa-free card. He offered it up bloodlessly.