Did I Mention I Love You?

by Estelle Maskame

  “I think it could be good for you,” she adds. “You won’t have to deal with those girls again. The ones with the stuck-up parents.”

  “Alyssa and Holly,” I tell her, but my words escape as a mere whisper. I try to ignore the churning in my stomach and the pounding of my heart, focusing instead on Mom’s warmth as it radiates across the line.

  “I passed them in Walmart the other day,” she says roughly, “and do you have any idea how bad I wanted to hurl my bag of onions at them?”

  I laugh, and it feels good to be giggling at her humor and ability to lighten up even the worst of moods, and it feels nice knowing she’s on the other end of the line. “I’ll bet you did.”

  “Look,” she says, but then she pauses for a moment as a door swings open. I recognize the familiar creaking, the annoying oil-deprived hinges of our front door offering an irritating greeting every time we open it. “It’s just an idea. We’ll talk about it when you get home. Deal?”

  I’m about to say “deal,” but before I even get the words out of my mouth, the front door slams shut, loudly echoing across the connection. Following it, there’s the squeakiest of barks.

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Was that a dog?”

  “Damn it,” Mom mutters. “She was supposed to be a surprise.”

  Chapter 30

  By Friday, I was getting pretty tired of moping around waiting for Tyler to come back. I just wanted to see him, even if it was only for a few seconds while he came home to grab some more clothes. But he never did show up for the week, and he never did reply to my texts, and I never did see him.

  It pissed me off a lot more than I thought it would. I knew I’d miss not seeing him every morning, but I never thought I’d grow frustrated and mad at him. It didn’t make sense for him to completely cut me off. When I asked him if he wanted to meet up at the Refinery for coffee (as stepsiblings, of course), I heard nothing back. When I asked him if he was doing okay, I heard nothing back. When I asked him if he even remembers what happened last weekend, my phone had never been so silent. Tiffani probably has him wrapped around her finger.

  Tiffani, who absolutely hates me.

  Tiffani, whose house I’m about to turn up at uninvited.

  Tiffani, who’s most likely going to burst into flames when she sees me.

  “Are you going out?” a voice asks from over my shoulder, and I swivel around from the living room window to meet Ella’s curious eyes. She runs them over my outfit, which doesn’t exactly qualify as attire for lazing around the house.

  “Am I grounded?” I have a feeling I might be, but Dad’s never mentioned it, so I’m praying he’s letting last weekend slide. Even if I am, he’s not here to reinforce it.

  “No,” Ella says. “Where are you going?”

  I divert my eyes back to the window as I stand there, staring through the blinds and fixing my eyes on Rachael’s car, which is parked in her driveway. She should be out any second. It’s pouring rain, the dark sky casting a permanent shadow over the city, and I have to squint through the drops on the windows in order to see properly. “Movie night with my friends,” I answer without turning back to Ella.

  There’s a silence, and I can hear her shifting across the room to leave, but then she stops walking and takes a deep breath. “Do you know if…” she murmurs quietly. “Do you know if Tyler will be there?”

  “He’ll be there,” I say immediately. That’s another reason I’ve agreed to go tonight: Tyler. If the only way to see him is by turning up at his crazy ex-girlfriend’s house, then I’m willing to go through the anxiety of the whole thing. I just want to see if he’s okay. Spinning back around, I meet Ella’s sad gaze. “Are you missing him?”

  I don’t think she quite knows the answer, because she has to think about it for a second. After Tyler left on Sunday, she spent the entire night bursting into tears every half hour, and part of me wondered if she was crying over more than just the drugs. “I am,” she says, finally, and then moves back into the center of the living room to sit down on the couch. She picks up a cushion and holds it in her lap, gripping it tightly. “The house feels empty without him, and I know that sounds weird, because he was never here half the time anyway, but there’s just something odd.”

  I know what she’s talking about. She’s talking about the way the house is quiet and the way the vegetarian food in the refrigerator hasn’t been touched, she’s talking about the fact that there’s an empty seat at the table each morning, and she’s talking about the fact that her son is no longer stumbling home in the middle of the night, even more lost than he was the night before.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I get it.”

  “I’m just worried about him,” she admits, and I like the way she’s being honest with me, just like she has been the entire summer. Ella’s not that bad for a stepmom, despite my first impression of her when she paraded me around the backyard at the barbecue introducing me to every single neighbor. She felt too obnoxious, too loud. Only now does it occur to me that perhaps it was fake, nothing more than a brave front, the same way her son has built up a facade to make him seem like he’s fine…but they’re not fine.

  It feels like I’ve spent the whole summer being blind. Everything is so obvious now, and I just wish I’d been able to piece it all together weeks ago. I should have figured Tyler out a long time ago; I should have tried to better understand his aggression toward his father. It feels the same way with Ella. I was so adamant that I’d dislike her that to begin with I never understood anything about her. But now I’m starting to appreciate her for her vulnerability. Now I understand her.

  Tears threaten to fall, so I turn back to the window and blink them away before Ella notices, but I think she already has. Rachael still hasn’t come out of her house yet, so I glance down at my feet and swallow back the lump in my throat. “Tyler told me about his dad,” I say quietly.

  I hear Ella take a sharp breath, and I’m almost afraid to turn around in case she’s furious at me for bringing it up, but I’m alone in the house with her and it feels like the right time to talk about it. Dad’s taking Jamie to get his wrist checked out, and Chase has gone along for the ride. And Tyler…well. He’s still gone.

  “He told you?”

  I crane my neck to look at her, taking in her wide eyes and furrowed brows and parted lips, and then I make my way over to the couch and sit down beside her. She stares at me in surprise. “Last weekend,” I tell her, but I talk slowly to ensure nothing slips out, like the fact that I ended up sleeping with Tyler too. “He told me everything.”

  “He actually told you?” Ella’s just blinking at me now, and when I nod, she hugs the cushion to her chest and looks away. “I can’t believe he told you. He doesn’t like to talk about it. I’m…” She tapers off and just shakes her head, still a little shocked. “I just want him to be okay. That’s all I want.” Her voice sounds delicate and hushed, her eyes shifting between me and the wall. “Not a 4.0 GPA or a tidy room or to wash the dishes, just okay, and he’s not even that.”

  Hearing her talk like this makes my eyes well up again, so I can’t even bring myself to reply. If I open my mouth, my voice will sound choked, and if my voice sounds choked, the tears will escape. So I just sit there, holding my breath and biting down hard on my lower lip, because I really don’t want her to see me crying.

  “I’ve been in discussion with some people…” she says slowly, which thankfully saves me from having to speak, and I wait for what she’s about to tell me. “They run events throughout the East Coast. Awareness events for…” She takes a deep breath and starts again. “They raise awareness of different kinds of abuse.” Turning her head away from me, she draws her lips into her mouth and composes herself before glancing back over. “The organizers want Tyler to be a speaker.”

  “A speaker?”

  She nods. “They want him to represent physical abuse. They have other teenagers standing for domestic, emotional… They want him to tell his story, over and over again, for a
year. I don’t think he’d be able to handle that, because he hates talking about it. That’s why I’m just so surprised that he told you.”

  I take a minute to process this information while the rain batters against the windows. Last week it was so difficult for Tyler to tell me the truth, and I can’t begin to imagine how tough he’d find it having to tell the story to strangers. But at the same time, he’d get to meet others who have been through the same things he has, and it just might help. “It could be good for him…you know, to talk about it.”

  “It’s a really great opportunity,” Ella adds, but she’s staring off into the carpet, almost like she’s weighing the pros and cons in her head. “He’d have to straighten himself out first though.” That’s a pro. This could be the kick that he needs to put him on the road to giving up on distractions, to becoming a person who doesn’t depend on alcohol and drugs. “And he’d have to move to New York for a year, starting next summer.” That’s a con. A huge con.

  I try to meet her eyes, but she’s still staring at the floor. “Is that what my dad was talking about last week? When he mentioned New York?”

  Another nod. “I haven’t told Tyler yet. Now isn’t the best time.” She glances sideways at me with a small smile on her lips, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. That’s something I’ve always found odd, people smiling when they’re sad. There’s no such thing as a sad smile. Just a brave one.

  “You’re a really good mom,” I say, because they’re the only words running through my mind as I watch her overthink the situation with Tyler, and they suddenly seem to spill out on their own accord. She only wants what’s best for him, and sometimes that’s not enough. But she’s trying.

  Her lips part in surprise. She looks like she’s about to say something, but she’s interrupted by the sound of a car horn blasting. The horn blows three times.

  “That’ll be Rachael,” I say as I get to my feet. I smooth out the creases in my jeans and offer her a smile, because somehow in the past ten minutes I feel like I’ve gotten closer to her. For the first time, I really do see her as my stepmom. “I’ll see you when I’m home.”

  The corners of her lips pull up into a smile to mirror mine, and this time her smile isn’t brave. It’s sincere.

  Outside, Rachael has reversed out of her driveway and is furiously revving up her engine out front of my house instead. She rolls down the window as I approach and yells, “You were supposed to be looking for me! We’re wasting valuable time!”

  I throw open the door and slide inside, barely getting my seat belt on before the car takes off down the avenue. The seat is wet from the rain. “I was talking to Ella,” I say, but I don’t want to leave room for her to ask what we were discussing, so I quickly add, “What’s the plan?”

  “Stop being curious,” Rachael orders, lifting a hand off the wheel and wagging a finger at me. I scoff. Curious is all I’ll ever be. “You don’t even need to do anything. You’ll mess it up, so let me talk.”

  I roll my eyes and adjust my seat, pushing it back to give me more legroom, and then I slump down and heave a sigh. “Where did this rain come from? It feels like I’m in Portland,” I murmur, tapping my knuckles against the window as I try to distract myself, because nerves are rattling me. But I can’t let Rachael know this, because then she’ll wonder why I’m nervous, and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to tell her that I’m panicking beyond despair over the fact that Tiffani is going to flip when I turn up at her front door.

  So for the five-minute ride I act as normal as I possibly can. I text Amelia, rummage through the CDs packed into the glove box, adjust the heating, and, of course, listen to Rachael. She’s telling me about Trevor again, and she’s gushing over the fact that he’s started adding hearts to the end of their texts, and she’s blushing as she tells me how sweet he’s suddenly being.

  By the time we’re nearing Tiffani’s house, the nerves are almost completely gone because of my desperate need to escape Rachael’s Trevor drama. I’d rather throw myself into Tiffani’s arms than hear about how nice Trevor’s shoulders are.

  But the second we pull up outside, I revert to my original mind-set. Tyler’s car is parked on the driveway, side by side with Tiffani’s, and suddenly I’m terrified again. I have to deal with both of them at once, and I’m certain that Tiffani will rip out my hair, and I have no clue what Tyler will say to me. That’s if he even decides to talk in the first place.

  I relax only slightly when I spot Dean’s car and Jake’s. The more of us, the better. If I make it over the threshold, at least they’ll be there to make the situation less daunting. Even Jake seems like fun to hang out with right now.

  “Remember, leave me to do the talking,” Rachael says as she grabs her purse from the backseat. Quite frankly, I don’t want to do the talking, so she really has nothing to worry about.

  We lock up and run across the lawn to the front door, which Rachael promptly shoves open and drifts through. She never knocks, and this is something I’m still getting used to. That being said, not only do I feel unwelcome, I also feel extremely rude. Nonetheless, I follow Rachael into the house and a waft of fresh popcorn overwhelms me.

  Immediately to the left of the open-plan area, Jake and Dean are stretched out on the L-shaped couches that run around the room. Meghan’s not coming tonight, because she’s grounded after last weekend, but Dean does sit up when he sees us so that he can acknowledge our presence with a nod and a smile. Other than that, both of them look bored and out of place. Jake’s playing around with the remote for the TV, flicking through channels and sighing in between each one. Usually on Fridays we’re at parties. Usually we’re not having movie nights.

  There’s a laugh from somewhere to my right and my eyes immediately snap over to it. The first thing they land on is Tiffani. She’s pulling out a bowl of popcorn from the microwave and then carelessly dropping it on the countertop as it burns her hands, laughing all the while and looking totally normal. Normal, not heartbroken. But it makes sense, because Tyler is standing right by her side, sighing at her ridiculous attempt to prepare food. He tries to laugh, but his lips only pull up into another one of his fake smiles. As usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  I wonder what he’s thinking about and what he’s planning to do. Right now, he’s stuck living at Tiffani’s house, believing something that might not be true, something that Rachael is adamant on proving false. What are his thoughts? Are they going to get back together? It would be horrible if they did. Tyler’s only just managed to get himself out of the grip she had on him and I’d hate to see him get wrapped up in that mess again.

  The two of them are so distracted in the kitchen that they haven’t even noticed Rachael and I entering the house, so I interlock my hands and twist my fingers around each other anxiously as I make my way over to the living room. I try to force a smile on my face, but my frown only ends up deepening.

  Dean must notice my scowl. He sits up, his blue T-shirt contrasting with the brown of his eyes, and whispers, “This is so awkward.” He nods behind me to the pair in the kitchen. Tiffani’s running a hand through Tyler’s hair, her eyelashes fluttering. “They broke up but…”

  Tell me about it, I think. We’re all just as confused as each other. Have they broken up? Are they just friends now? Are they back together already? What the hell are they, besides incompatible?

  Rachael’s still standing by the front door, just staring at the two of them in disbelief. She cranes her neck to look at Dean and me, pointing a thumb to Tiffani while mouthing, “What the hell?” I’ve discovered by now that Rachael is very anti-Tyler-and-Tiffani.

  Both Dean and I shrug, but really I just want to tear the plaster off the wall or smash the TV or set the couches on fire. I want to do something that will release the anger that’s fizzing inside of me, and I can’t even seem to figure out who I’m mad at. Part of me is mad at myself for finding myself in this situation, where I’m stuck between my stepbrother and his ex-girlfriend, or girlfrie
nd. I don’t know anymore.

  “Rachael!” Tiffani’s voice calls across the room, and both Rachael and I whip around to face her. She’s hugging the bowl of popcorn to her chest and grinning. But it doesn’t last long. Her eyes drift over to meet mine, and the second she lays eyes on me, her smile falters. “Eden?”

  “It took you long enough to notice us!” Rachael complains jokingly as she pads across the carpet toward the staircase.

  Tiffani’s still staring at me, still glowering. “Sorry,” she tells Rachael, but her eyes never leave mine. I can feel her glare boring holes in my skin, and I try to glance down at the floor, but I can’t, because I’m staring at the person standing two inches away from her.

  And he’s looking straight back.

  Tyler’s lips are parted, and he’s biting the skin on the inside of his cheek, his head tilted slightly. He looks paler than usual, and his eyes are set deeper in their sockets, which makes him appear almost lifeless, like he hasn’t slept for days and is about to pass out any second.

  Rachael clears her throat from the staircase. “Tiff, can we talk to you for a sec?”

  “Sure,” she says bitterly, and with the flick of her hair, she spins around and slams the bowl of popcorn down onto the countertop.

  I can feel Dean watching from behind me as she makes her way over to Rachael, and I can hear Jake watching football on the TV, and I can see Tyler edging his way over to the living room, wearing a pair of sweats and a faded T-shirt. It makes him look at home, and this makes me uncomfortable. Tiffani storms up the staircase, leaving Rachael to motion for me to join them. So I do, because although I’m terrified of Tiffani right now, I need to know if she’s lying or not. But as I’m scrambling over to the stairs to catch up with them, Tyler grasps my elbow in passing.

  He yanks me back, moves his lips toward my ear, and hisses, “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I mutter. Shoving his hand off me, I fix him with a glare that quickly turns into a disappointed frown. Something in his eyes shifts, the same way they were constantly altering last weekend, but before I can begin to process the change in his expression, he’s already turning away from me and heading over to Dean and Jake.