One Moment

by Kristina McBride

  Nolan grabbed a piece, his fingers grazing mine and pulling back as though he’d been shocked, like he was afraid he could catch death from me. The thought of electricity running between us sent a shiver of something familiar through my body. I shook it off, though, forcing myself to stay in the moment.

  “You okay, then?” Nolan asked as he slowly pulled the silver wrapper off his piece of gum.

  “I’m not gonna freak out or anything,” I said, hoping that would remain true. Somehow, over the past week, I had gone from being on the brink of freak-out ninety-nine percent of the time to about … seventy-five percent of the time. Until, of course, some random thing brought Joey rushing back. At first, I never thought I’d get used to the idea of Joey’s death, but it had settled over me like a fine mist. It had started to feel like reality instead of a bad dream. “It sucks. But I’m dealing.”

  Nolan looked up at me, his head still tilted down a bit, his brown eyes searching mine for any hint of truth or lie. “Yeah?”

  I shrugged.

  Nolan shoved his gum into his mouth and crushed the wrapper up into a tiny ball, staring down at one of the blue tile squares on the floor. “It’s just weird,” Nolan said. “The whole death thing. Everyone’s talking about the last time they saw him or talked to him.”

  I scooted forward on the seat of my rolly chair, inching toward him, longing for one more slice of Joey’s life to add to the patchwork of memories I had begun to assemble. Wishing I had access to my last seconds with him, hoping I would remember soon, that I would finally find the full truth and have my own story to tell in moments like these.

  Nolan looked at me, his eyes watery and reddening. “Sorry. That’s probably the last place you wanna go.”

  “No!” My voice bounced off the walls, too loud for the room. “I want to know as much as I can. Any new memory, even if it’s not mine…. They all seem to help, you know?”

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Will you tell me? Everything you remember from the last time you saw him?”

  Nolan shook his head. “It’s really nothing, though.”

  “Please,” I said, something desperate flaring, and surging, and spreading through my body. “It’s crazy, I know, but it helps keep him alive just a little longer when I hear other people’s stories.”

  Nolan swung his head to the side and wiped his eyes.

  “Did you see him the night of Dutton’s party?” I asked, hope blossoming in my chest. Maybe Nolan was the key to finding out what Joey had been doing after he taken me, Shannon, and Pete home.

  “No, I was out of town that weekend with my parents, picking my brother up from college. Heard the party was a blast, though.” Nolan leaned back in his seat and propped his hands behind his head, elbows splayed outward. “Last time I saw Joey, actually talked to him, I mean, was at the Spring Carnival.”

  I shook my head, trying to jar the words loose before they took root. “Joey wasn’t at the carnival.”

  Nolan’s eyes creased. “Yeah. He was.”

  “You must have mistaken someone else for him,” I said with a forced laugh, feeling a nervous tingle flash through my body. “He went to a Reds game with his dad that night. Killer tickets, or something like that.”

  “Oh.” Nolan’s entire face crinkled up and he looked away, dropping his hands into his lap. “Okay. I must’ve been wrong.” He pulled himself up to the desk and grabbed his backpack, opening the front pouch and taking out a blue pen like he was ready to end the conversation and start his homework. As if Nolan ever did homework during our office aide period.

  I reached for his hand, stopping him. “Well, maybe Joey came late.” I glanced up at the ceiling, trying to look confused or thoughtful or something that would keep Nolan talking. “I was kinda drunk.” I giggled, as if what I said had been funny.

  Nolan squinted, looking unsure. “It was late.”

  “God,” I said, smacking Nolan on the arm, needing that memory. “You’re acting so weird. Just tell me already.”

  “Right. Okay.” Nolan sat back in his chair, click-click-clicking the top of his blue pen. “I had to work that night, so I got to the carnival late. It was dark already, and there were about a zillion cars in the parking lot, all lit up from the flashing lights on the rides.”

  I flipped back to that night in an instant—it had been several weeks ago, one of the last days in April. Tanna, Shannon, and I had vowed to ride every ride before we left. Pete and Adam had laughed at us, saying we were acting like we were ten again. And then Shannon almost puked while we all were on one of those spinning things where the floor drops away from your feet. So we abandoned our plan, laughing as we passed a stick of pink cotton candy among us, leaving Pete and Adam behind.

  “I had to park in the back of the lot, where it was super dark and shadowy,” Nolan continued. “That’s where I saw his truck.”

  I wanted to stop Nolan there. To tell him that all kinds of people drove black trucks and it would have been easy to mistake Joey’s for someone else’s. Especially in the dark. But I was afraid that if I spoke again, I’d ruin my chance to hear the story. A story I was certain was wrong. A story I wanted to deconstruct so I could prove that Joey was exactly where he had said he’d been. Because one thing I knew for certain was that Joey was not at that carnival.

  “I didn’t see him at first,” Nolan said, “but when I walked by the truck, Joey shot his arm out of the driver’s side window and grabbed my shoulder. Scared the living shit out of me.”

  “So, you actually did see him? Talked to him?” I sucked in a deep breath and held it. I couldn’t keep breathing. Not with this in the air.

  “Yeah … I mean, it was only for a few minutes. He gave me some shit about how I squealed like a little girl. I made fun of him for hiding in the shadows. Then I promised I’d get him back when he wasn’t looking. That kind of thing. I told him he’d had a good game the night before. I remember that part. I also remember how, the whole time we were talking, he kept looking in his rearview and checking his phone. I just figured he was …”

  “What?” I asked, holding a shaky hand in the air.

  “I figured he was in trouble with you over something.” Nolan shrugged. “I didn’t want any drama, so I said later and walked away.”

  My heart was about to explode. Joey really was at the carnival? Why hadn’t he told me?

  “He was, wasn’t he?” Nolan asked. “In the doghouse?”

  “No.” I shook my head. I felt as if it might swim away from my body.

  “Oh, shit, I knew I shoulda kept my mouth shut.”

  “No. It’s okay. I asked. I just wish I knew what had him so bothered, is all.”

  “Don’t know.” Nolan chewed his gum so hard it seemed like he wanted to pulverize it.

  “Strange.” I tugged at a strand of my hair and wrapped it around my finger, pulling harder and harder until I felt pain. “That’s all?” I asked. “You don’t remember anything else?”

  Nolan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I never woulda—”

  “Nolan, it’s fine. Totally fine.” I shrugged. “He must have been waiting to surprise me. Give me a ride or something. But Tanna took me home, and her car was, like, right up front. We got a great spot. So he wouldn’t have seen me.” I sounded pathetic, more pathetic than Mrs. Suck Face’s father, the king of avoiding what’s right before your eyes, and we both knew it. Whatever had brought Joey to the carnival that night had been something he’d intentionally kept to himself. Just like whatever he’d been doing after he dropped me off the night of Dutton’s party.

  “Right.” Nolan slid his chair forward and tugged a notebook from his backpack, flipping it open without looking at me. He clicked his pen one last time. “Makes complete sense.”

  But it didn’t.

  It made no sense at all.

  Not unless Joey was keeping major secrets.

  As I sat there hearing echoes of the carnival music, feeling the breeze drift across the heat of my chee
ks, tasting the sweet fire of the raspberry vodka we had poured into our sodas, I wondered…. What else had Joey been hiding from me?

  And more importantly, why?

  9

  Forget You

  “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” I tipped my head against the cool glass of the passenger-side window, closing my eyes against the bright sunlight that was trying to convince me it was a happy kind of day. “It’s just weird.”

  “Maggie, the police said you have to be evaluated.” My mother sighed.

  “You’re taking the easy way out, blaming them,” I said, looking right at her.

  “You want me to tell you that I think it’s a good idea?” My mother slowed our black Hyundai Tucson to a stop at a red light in downtown Blue Springs. “You suffered a major trauma, Maggie. And you’re dealing with memory loss. I think this is the best—”

  “Really?” I asked. “Did you even look at those intake forms? The questions are for someone who’s really messed up, Mom. Not me.”

  “No one’s saying you’re messed up, hon. Just that you need a little help with all that’s happened.”

  “What I need,” I said, “is Joey.”

  I swiveled my head so I wouldn’t have to look at my mother. I couldn’t get a handle on my emotions. Part of me felt relieved that I might be a few hours away from some answers. If this woman could help me access my memories, which was a big if. I’d been trying nonstop on my own when I was alone in my room, focusing on what I knew for certain. But I had yet to uncover anything new. The other part of me was just plain scared. What if talking about everything made it all feel worse? I wasn’t sure I could handle worse. It might break me all the way.

  “I know this is scary for you. I’m still asking you to give it a try.”

  “Asking?” I tilted my head toward the window again. “As if I have a choice?”

  We spent the rest of the ride in silence, moving beyond the center of Blue Springs, with a Dairy Queen on one corner and a 7-Eleven on the other, through miles of corn and soybean fields.

  The ride relaxed me, put me in a trancelike state. I focused on the things that didn’t hurt. The trees, how they were so thick they looked stronger than I ever expected to feel. The wide fields, so green they almost shimmered. The deep blue sky, so vast and open, it felt like I could dive right through its surface and disappear.

  After about thirty minutes, we hit the town just south of ours, Bradyville, which was smaller than where I had grown up. The first houses we encountered were older, and a few leaned, almost like they were drunk. Bradyville is a farm town, and as soon as we crossed over the county line, I lowered my window. I had always loved that Bradyville seemed to be drowning in the scent of hay, so I focused on the sweet, comfortable feeling it brought me. When we passed by a park, I stared at the kids hanging off the playground equipment, their laughter filling the air, chasing the silence out of our car.

  I was okay for those few moments, while my mind drifted from one thing to the next, because none of it had to do with Joey. Or the cliff top.

  But then I saw the high school. And I remembered my last trip here, less than two months ago, when I’d had to take the ACTs in a musty-smelling science room because I’d been sick the day they had them in town.

  I’d stood against the wall next to the double doors of the high school’s entrance, rain falling all around me, slamming into me with sweeping gusts of wind. Trying to avoid being soaked, I pressed my back against the scratchy red bricks but still ended up looking like a drowned and droopy version of myself. Which was the last thing I wanted, because Joey would pull up and see mascara running down my face, like I’d been standing there crying over him.

  I was tempted to jump out into the rain, to look up at the sky and scream. But the sky hadn’t deserved my rage. Neither did the little red Ford Taurus my grandmother had sold me for one hundred dollars, which was in the shop getting a new transmission.

  My anger was all directed at Joey, who was late-squared picking me up.

  Since my cell died during the first break in testing, I didn’t have a way to check my messages. I used another girl’s phone, calling Joey three times as the sky darkened overhead and rain began to fall. But the connection just rolled me over to his voice mail. When the girl’s father came to pick her up, I was left completely alone.

  I stood in the rain, shivering, feeling like a fool, wondering what to do.

  I was seconds from walking two miles to the nearest convenience store to call my mom for a ride when Adam’s light blue Oldsmobile pulled into the front lot of Bradyville High School. I was as surprised to see him as I was grateful that he had come. I hopped into the front seat, shaking from the cold and my anger at Joey. Adam threw a towel at me, and I wrapped it around my shoulders to warm up.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  Adam just shook his head, his lips pinched tight. “Dunno.”

  “Whaddo you mean, you don’t know?” My teeth chattered as I looked at Adam. “You’re here instead of him, so I know you guys talked. Is he still fighting with his mom? Did she take his phone?”

  Adam’s body was tense, rigid. “Something like that.”

  “Well, I don’t see why she wouldn’t let him at least answer his phone to make sure I’d get home okay. I almost walked two miles in this shit to use a pay phone because my cell died and—”

  “He’s just a guy, you know?” Adam looked at me, his eyes sparking in the dim light.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You put him up on a pedestal, like he can do no wrong. Trust me,” Adam said, “he can.”

  “I know he’s not perfect.”

  “Coulda fooled me.”

  “This isn’t his fault,” I said. “His mom’s a freak about his curfew. He was, like, three minutes late and she totally flipped her shit. Joey has never done anything like this before.”

  Adam grunted.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He’s never done anything like this before? What about homecoming?”

  I snorted, flinging my hand in the air, dismissing the long-ago memory, which I had shoved from my mind as soon as Joey had explained himself. “That wasn’t his fault. His mother made him go to his grandparents’ that night, and—”

  “Right. I remember.” Adam shook his head. “And Joey forgot his phone in the rush to leave, so he couldn’t call you to explain anything.”

  “His grandfather had a stroke, Adam. I was probably the last thing on his mind.” I slid lower in my seat. “Besides, he did call me.”

  “Yeah. At, like, eleven o’clock. When the dance was almost over and you were still sitting in your house waiting for him.” Adam looked out the windshield, his eyes squinting as he tried to focus on the road through the thick wash of rain that the wipers couldn’t keep up with.

  “If I recall correctly, we had the best pizza of our lives that night.” I poked Adam in the arm. He elbowed my hand away.

  “It was okay.”

  “Okay?” I asked. “It was the best. Really.”

  “Just because it was hand delivered by the biggest stud in town.”

  I laughed, the sound rushing out of me.

  Adam looked at me and grinned. “The studliest stud.”

  “M-hmm.” I poked Adam again, glad that a smile had lit his face. “If you’re such a stud, why’d you drop your date off before midnight, huh? Most studs would have been getting it on until dawn.”

  Adam shrugged. “I felt bad for you.”

  “Liar.”

  “I did.” Adam looked at me, his eyes tight. “I felt awful when you called looking for him. You’d spent the whole night all dressed up alone in your basement, wondering where he was.”

  “Well, it was still nice of you.” I twisted my wet hair behind me and tucked it into a bun so it would stop dripping down my back.

  “Yeah. It was.” Adam looked at me and rolled his eyes. “It was also nice of me to stop
and get your favorite treat to make you feel better after waiting so long today. Three devil’s food from Bozie’s Donuts. I even grabbed you a hot chocolate. Thought you might be cold.” Adam passed me a steamy cup of hot chocolate, and I sipped from the plastic lid. The foamy top was sugary sweet, and the drink was the perfect temperature after Adam’s long ride into Bradyville, warming me from the inside out.

  “Well,” I said, “if anyone’s in the running for perfect, I’d say it’s you.”

  Adam finally smiled. “You just remember that, girl. You hear?”

  “Only if we can blast a song of my choice.”

  Adam threw his head back and groaned. “No. Please, no.”

  “I deserve it,” I said. “I stood there for almost an hour not knowing what the hell was going on.”

  “Fine,” Adam said, leaning toward the windshield as several gusts of wind rocked the car. “Blast your crappy music. Scream at the top of your lungs. See if I care.”

  “You rock, Adam.” I leaned forward then, ruffling Adam’s rain-stained hair. From the corner of my eye, I caught him watching as I hooked my iPod into his system and twisted the dial. I wondered what he was thinking. But just for a moment. Then the fearless sound of “Forget You” by Cee Lo Green surged through the car and carried me away.

  “So, Maggie, today’s session will be for us to get acquainted, and to set some goals for your treatment.” Dr. Guest sat back in her swivel chair and tipped her head toward me, strands of auburn hair escaping her loose bun and falling to frame her face. Her legs were uncrossed, and her hands lay still on top of the open notebook on her lap.

  I looked around the office, reading the framed degrees that certified Dr. Patricia Guest as a licensed professional clinical counselor and a doctor of psychology.

  “You’re just about to finish up your junior year of high school, right?” Dr. Guest asked.

  I nodded, sliding down the seat of the brown leather couch.

  “And I hear that you have a very tight-knit group of friends.” Dr. Guest smiled. My eyes flitted from hers to the tray of snacks on the coffee table between us. Did people really have the stomach to eat during these sessions? I couldn’t believe that a handful of peanuts and M&M’s made a person feel safe enough to open up.