When Joey’s brother opened the front door of the Walthers’ house I wanted to run. But I ignored that urge, because this night wasn’t about me. My second impulse was to push past Rylan and rush up the staircase, to lock myself in Joey’s room and bury myself in his blankets so I could feel him all around me one last time. But I didn’t do that, either. Instead, I stepped into the foyer and wrapped my arms around Rylan’s shoulders, pulling him close as everyone filed in behind me.
I breathed him in and held tight, not wanting to let go.
“This is one suck-ass Memorial Day, huh?” Pete asked, stepping around us and clapping Rylan on the shoulder.
As I pulled away, Rylan’s lips turned up in an attempt at a smile. But it faded before it had the chance to form. Just two years younger, he reminded me so much of Joey—his sizzling blue eyes, his freckled nose, the curve of his chin—I had to look away, to search for something that might not hurt as much. But it didn’t work. Joey was everywhere.
Resting on the entry table was a copy of A Prayer for Owen Meany, which Joey had been reading for English class. It sat as if he’d be back soon to pick it up and make his way through the last chapters. Perched on the staircase were his favorite Converse shoes, faded black with holes threatening the seams, one on its side, the laces flung loose. As if Joey would bound down the steps any minute to tug them on his feet before rushing out the door. They, too, seemed to be waiting for the touch of his hands.
“How are your parents?” Tanna asked, placing a hand on Rylan’s back.
Rylan shook his head. “They’re in the family room. I gotta warn you,” he said, looking over his shoulder, toward the kitchen, “they’re asking a lot of questions.”
“Really?” Adam asked, looking up from the wood floor of the entry.
“Yeah, dude. They keep asking me where he was Friday night.” Rylan’s voice was a whisper. “Do any of you know—”
“Are they here, Rylan?” Joey’s father asked, his voice deep and raw, his words pulsing toward us from the family room. “We need some help with this.”
“Look, if you know anything, just tell them,” Rylan said. “And thanks for coming, guys. You have no idea how much it means to them…. To us.”
“Bro,” Pete said, wrapping an arm around Rylan’s shoulders as we all moved toward the kitchen and living room, “where else would we be?”
“Yeah,” Shannon said. “We’re all family, Ry.”
I imagined Joey by my side as we filed down the hallway and into the kitchen, rounding the bend into the cozy but enormous space of the Walthers’ family room. It all looked so normal, it nearly killed me. Until I saw that nothing was normal at all. That was even worse.
Mr. and Mrs. Walther sat on the carpeted floor in front of a huge fireplace with pictures spread around the hearth in rippling waves. I wasn’t so sure I could face those memories. But when Joey’s parents stood and opened their arms to us, I didn’t have a choice. I lost myself in their deep, shaking warmth, knowing that they felt the same pain that I did. A wall closed in behind me and I knew we’d all come together, huddled in the center of the room.
I’m not sure how long we stood like that, Shannon hugging my back, Pete tucked against my side, Tanna and Rylan pressed up against Mrs. Walther, Adam practically keeping Mr. Walther from collapsing to the floor. But I would have been okay if it had never ended. Really, it may have been better that way. But nothing stays the same in life.
“Imagine if he could see this.” Adam broke the moment, somehow finding the most fitting thing to say. “All of us standing here like a bunch of babies.”
“He’d have our asses,” Rylan said.
“Rylan!” Mrs. Walther’s voice was so hoarse it made me cringe.
“Sorry, Ma. He’d have our butts. Is that better?”
“Don’t be such a smart-ass,” Mr. Walther said, ruffling Rylan’s hair like he was still five.
We were pulling apart by then, wiping our faces with the palms of our hands, swiping at our noses, and moving toward the closest seats. As I sat between Pete and Shannon on the couch, I tried not to look down at the pictures. But that didn’t work.
There was one of all of us from a football game sophomore year, faces painted with blue and black stripes, our arms up in the air as we screamed after a touchdown. A shot of Joey and me from prom. Another of him in his baseball uniform. Then there was one of Joey and Rylan from last year’s family trip to Myrtle Beach, where just behind them, the sun plunged into the ocean.
“Those are just from the last few years,” Mrs. Walther said, sitting cross-legged on the floor, wiping her raw nose with a tissue and clearing her throat. “Rylan’s working on a slide show, but we’d also like to have several different posters for the funeral. I was thinking you guys could make a few.”
“We can do whatever you need us to,” Pete said, sliding off the couch and grabbing a picture. “These pictures are great. You guys remember this one?” He held the photo in the air, and there we were. All six of us, sitting on a floating dock in the middle of a wide, open lake. I stared at the way Joey had slung his arm lazily across my lap, wishing I could go back. The shot had been taken last summer, on the Fourth of July, when we’d gone to the lake with Pete’s parents.
It all rushed back to me in a series of simple moments, the entire day speeding through my mind in an instant: lying out on the floating dock, the guys splashing us as they drove past on jet skis, Tanna’s wild laughter, Shannon turning up the music when her favorite song came on the staticky radio. The smell of sunscreen and lake water, the salty taste of potato chips, and my fizzy, too-warm Coke. And later, the barbecue where Pete practically set all of our burgers on fire, and how Adam had saved the day by closing the lid, thick smoke drifting up toward the darkening sky. Tanna sitting on the steps to the deck, smiling about a new, secret boyfriend. And Joey, teasing her. His hands reaching for her phone, tugging at her hair, pulling her off the deck and throwing her over his shoulder, spinning her in circles, threatening that he wouldn’t stop until he had a name. But he had stopped, his bare feet in the thick grass, as soon as she shouted that she was going to throw up all over him, and her secret had been saved. Shannon, watching everything as she walked under the trees, looking for the perfect marshmallow sticks to use for s’mores during the bonfire. And later still, the orange tint of the fire glowing as Joey pulled me away from the sounds of Pete’s guitar and the singing voices of our friends as the first blasts of fireworks splashed through the sky.
“Remember the fireworks?” I asked. I could practically feel their thunderous booms hitting me deep in the chest. One after another. And Joey’s arms wrapped around my waist as we leaned against a tree near the shore.
“They were insane,” Shannon said, but her voice was flat, like she didn’t really believe herself.
It was quiet for a moment, Shannon’s words echoing through the air. I wondered if we were all thinking the same thing. That we had been so lucky. And we hadn’t even known it.
“My mom told me the funeral will be this Thursday,” Adam said. He was rocking in a recliner next to the couch, clutching an oatmeal-colored pillow.
Mr. Walther took a deep breath. “Yes.”
I couldn’t believe they were talking about Joey’s funeral. I wanted to press my hands to my ears to stifle the words, to scream so loud I would drown out the new reality that had taken over my life. But I knew I had to keep it together. At least until I was alone in my closet with Joey’s sweatshirt pressed against my mouth, muffling my sobs.
“We’ve asked the baseball team to serve as pallbearers,” Mrs. Walther said. “And we’d like you all to sit up front with us. I was thinking that you could maybe choose something to read. As a group. Or however you think would be—” She bowed her head then, squeezing her eyes shut, and her body began to shake. Mr. Walther moved toward his wife, rubbing her shoulders.
“We thought you might like to make a few CDs for the viewing, too,” Mr. Walther said. “I’m sure you’d
know better than us what—”
“There’s going to be a viewing?” I asked, my body stiff.
Mrs. Walther sniffled. “We thought it was important.”
“Oh,” I said, squeezing my hands tight. The thought of seeing my boyfriend’s body laid out in a coffin made me feel like I was going to throw up. But the question that came next made me feel worse. Two words strung together on a rushed and frantic wave.
“What happened?” Joey’s mother asked, her eyes trained on me.
“Trisha,” Mr. Walther said. “We decided we weren’t going to—”
“I know Joey is … was wild, and beautifully fearless. I’m not blaming anyone. And I’m so grateful that he wasn’t alone, that your faces were the last ones he saw. But I need to understand,” Mrs. Walther said, fisting her hands tight. “What happened Saturday?”
My heart exploded in my chest, every breath so tight I felt like I might pass out.
“I explained to you this afternoon,” Adam said, “Maggie doesn’t remember anything after climbing up the trail with Joey.”
I looked at Adam, barely registering that he had been to speak with them already. That he’d talked to them about me.
“Maggie,” Mrs. Walther said, “can’t you tell me anything?”
My throat threatened to close up on me. It was the guilt of not remembering, of surviving when Joey hadn’t. But I forced the words out. “I’m trying to see it, to remember, but—”
“You were with him, though? At the top?”
I closed my eyes, wanting to go back instead of facing what lay ahead, and saw the treetops, sweeping slowly from side to side. Then my eyes traveled down the length of several thick trunks, resting on my friends as they stood expectantly along the bank of the swimming hole.
Don’t stand there looking down for too long, Adam called.
My eyes popped open. Found Adam. He leaned forward in his seat, staring right back at me.
“Adam told me not to look down for too long,” I said. That part had to be right. It was like a movie playing on some invisible screen, the way I could see his face, tipped up toward me, how I could hear his voice echoing off the walls of the gorge.
“Yeah,” Adam whispered. “I did.”
“Wait,” Shannon said, her eyes flickering from me to Adam and back again. “You remember something? Something new?”
I stared at her, watching her long eyelashes beat time with the second hand of the clock on the mantle, taking in the way her hair had gone stringy from not being washed, following the curve of her neck turning into her shoulder and sweeping down her tanned arm. And then I got another flash.
Tanna smacking Shannon’s arm. The spark of a smirk on Shannon’s face.
My voice, one word: Bitch.
And Joey’s: Part of what we love about her.
The sounds echo-echo-echoed off the stone walls of my skull.
Still staring. Shannon’s brown eyes, the smooth peachy skin of her cheeks, the strawberry pink of her lips.
“Maggie?” Tanna said, her voice tight, high-pitched. “Are you okay?”
“No, I—” I tried to steady my rushed breathing, knowing I had to lie. These new flashes, I needed to figure out how to find more, how to piece together the whole scene before I said anything. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything new. Just walking up to the top. Standing there.” I looked to Mrs. Walther, tears spilling from my eyes. “I don’t know what happened. I wish I could tell you. But it’s just … gone.”
Adam stood from his chair, and everyone turned to look at him. I wanted to take the chance to sneak away, to duck into one of those photographs and slip right back into the past.
“I think he was trying one of his stupid stunts,” Adam said, leaning down and plucking a few pictures from the pile, shuffling through them.
“He was always so crazy up there.” Pete rubbed a hand on my knee, squeezing in a way that let me know they all had my back. Which was good, because I didn’t think I could face any more questions. “At one point or another, I think we all told him to chill.”
“Joey?” Rylan asked. “Chill? You think he even knew the definition of that word?”
Pete and Adam chuckled. From her spot on the floor, Tanna scooted closer to me, her warm eyes meeting mine as she stopped near my feet, her body shielding my own. And Shannon, she slumped beside me, practically melting into the cushions of the couch.
“We were told that he hit his head,” Mr. Walther said. “And that you all went into the water to pull him to shore.”
“Except Shannon,” Pete said. “She went for the phone.”
“I knew it was bad,” Shannon whispered, “when he didn’t pop up from the water and crack some stupid joke.”
“And he was still breathing?” Mr. Walther asked.
“It was strained.” Tanna pressed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. Then reached out to me, wrapped her fingers around my ankle.
“I didn’t know that,” I said, my chest feeling like it was caving in. I looked at everyone in the room, my eyes stopping on Shannon. “No one told me anything about him breathing. He was alive?”
“When they got him to the towel, he looked up at me.” Shannon closed her eyes. Her whole face pulled tight. “I know he saw me. He tried to say something. But I couldn’t make it out. And then he squeezed my hand once.” Shannon’s voice broke open. With all the passion that I had ever felt in my life, I hated that the memory of Joey’s last moments were hers instead of mine.
“We started CPR,” Adam said, “when Shan noticed he wasn’t breathing anymore.”
The room fell silent. It felt like a fog had fallen over us, trailing into our mouths so no more words could be spoken. I heard Shannon’s soft, breathy cries. All I could think was that while I was glad Joey had someone with him in his last minutes, I despised that it wasn’t me. For a moment, all that deep, dark hate was directed at her. And then I felt horrible. She’d lost Joey, too. We all had. So I pulled her against me, rubbed her back, and felt myself begin to suffocate under the weight of our sadness. Looking at the letters of Joey’s name stitched on his baseball shirt, I tried not to think about how Shannon’s breath, and perfume, and tears were evaporating the last scents Joey had left on the fabric enfolding me.
I tried not to think about Joey’s parents, who were still on the floor, deflated and broken. I thought it was over then. But they had one more question. The one that I’d been asking myself since the police station.
“Where was Joey Friday night?” Mrs. Walther paused. “He told us he was staying at Adam’s house.”
“Wait, he didn’t?” Shannon asked, pulling away from me. “Joey took us home—Maggie and me and Pete. Adam called right after we dropped Maggie off. I just thought …”
“Nope,” Adam said, shaking his head. “I talked to him sometime after twelve, but that’s it.”
“None of you have any ideas?” Mrs. Walther asked.
We looked around at one another, shaking our heads. It seemed like a totally insignificant detail when you considered the whole mess, but it hit hard in that moment. We might not ever know where Joey went after Jimmy Dutton’s party. Joey wasn’t there to tell us anymore.
His room felt like a bubble. A safe place that, when I closed my eyes, gave me the illusion that Joey was still alive. The air practically sizzled with his energy, so intense I could have believed he was standing next to me. I wasn’t supposed to touch anything. I’d promised I wouldn’t when I made my escape, using the excuse that I wanted to grab a few of his CDs for the mix we were going to make. But I had to.
I leaned down and pressed my face into his pillow, breathing him in. Imagined him lying there, perfectly alive. Then I crossed the room and opened his closet door as quietly as I could, running my fingers along the soft fabric of his clothes. I wished I could tuck myself into the thick shadows of the small space. To stay there for the rest of my life.
But nothing that I wanted could happen anymore.
So I rea
ched for the inside handle of the closet door and started to swing it shut. But my fingers brushed against something wrapped around the neck of the silver knob, stopping me.
I looked down. Smiled.
There, twisted and pulled tight, was a rainbow-colored necklace, a pattern of tiny beaded flowers. Pete had won it for me at the Spring Carnival, just five weeks ago. Joey couldn’t come because his father had scored some killer tickets for a Reds game in Cincinnati. Joey had been excited for the game, but he’d been pissed we were all doing something without him. He’d always hated missing out.
After the carnival, Tanna drove me home, both of us singing to loud music as the wind rushed at us through the open windows of her car. I’d been wishing Joey would call me; I wanted to hear the velvety tone of his voice before I slipped under my covers and fell asleep. But he’d been so late, I didn’t talk to him until the next day. When he stopped by my house, we went up to my room, and I’d flung the necklace in the air, teasing him that another guy had given me jewelry. He’d better be careful or someone might just steal me away. And then I shoved the bright flowers into the right-hand side of my dresser drawer, along with a messy collection of barrettes and bottles of nail polish, with Joey leaning into me, tugging at the waist of my shirt and whispering that he was the only one for me. I’d had no idea he’d taken the silly necklace, but somehow seeing it wrapped around the handle of his closet door, knowing he’d thought of me every time he’d seen it, made me happy.
I grabbed a stack of CDs from his dresser before making my way out into the darkened hallway. As I stepped to the top of the staircase, I was thinking that I would give anything for one more night with Joey, so I could tell him and show him and make him feel exactly how much he meant to me.
I was three or four steps down before I heard them. Hushed whispers, hurried and insistent. The first voice was Shannon’s. The second, Adam’s. The sharpness that punctuated the tone of the conversation stopped me. My hand gripped the railing and held tight.
“Adam, that’s not fair. You have to think about—”
“It’s all I’m thinking about, Shannon.”
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