by Vi Keeland
“I borrowed your brush too. Tried to do something with this mess of hair,” She runs her fingers through her now loose, shiny hair.
“It’s beautiful,” I say as I reach her space and quickly invade it.
She’s backed against my desk chair and only feet from my bed. The trouble alarm is going off at a blaring volume in my head. But the need to touch her again, feel her body against mine like it was last night, outweighs any concern about where things might lead to. My thumb brushes her parted lips and my body responds instantly when she lets out a low gasp with a sharp intake of breath. Screw it— concern about where things might lead quickly turns to hope that they will. Just as I lean in, Nikki dodges my kiss and turns to my desk. Nervously, aiming to lighten the moment, she lifts something, dangling it from her finger with a cheeky grin. “Aren’t we a little old for a Batman mask, Zack?”
Her hands are on the mask Emily gave me on my 12th birthday, our little private joke. The life drains out of my body as I snatch it from her hands.
I take two steps back. Two steps away from her physically, but miles of distance stretches between us suddenly.
“You should probably go,” I say, walking to the door of my room. The look on Nikki’s face causes me physical pain. She’s confused. Hurt. Probably even a little embarrassed. Selfishly, I wallow in the feel of my own pain as it washes over me, ignoring the sadness etched into her face as I escort her to the front door.
Chapter 27
Nikki
I stand at the top of Zack’s driveway, staring blankly ahead. For a second, I feel like I might have imagined the last five minutes. Then I turn back and see the closed front door, the sound of it slamming shut behind me ringing in my memory over and over again. What the hell just happened? I half expect him to open the door and tell me he’s joking.
But he doesn’t.
Feeling tears well in my eyes, I blink, trying to dam the flood looming just beneath the surface. I can’t cry. Not here. I squeeze my eyes shut and ball my fists until my nails dig deep enough into my palms that it causes me pain. Taking a deep breath, I dig my iPod from my pocket, spin the volume up as high as it can go and pop in both earbuds.
Concentrating only on forcing one foot in front of the other, I make it down the long driveway just as tears begin to blur my vision. I’m about to turn from the house and take off running, when a hand grabs me.
Whipping around, I rip the earbud from my ear as the woman repeats the words she’s just said. Only this time I can hear them. “Your name?”
“What?” Confused, I ask, even though I’ve heard her question. She doesn’t repeat herself. Instead she just stares at me. I look down at my arm, where she’s holding me just below the elbow. Her hold is strong and suddenly I feel nervous even though it’s the middle of the day and we’re out in the wide open.
Her face is hard and serious, as if I’m trying her patience, even though she’s the one with her hands on me. I attempt to pull my arm from her grip, but it’s no use, her fingers are locked around me.
“Nikki,” I say.
She keeps her eyes locked on me but releases my arm. I should run, but something keeps me standing in place. “Why are you here?”
It’s a question I’m not sure I know the answer to. What the hell am I doing here? Zack didn’t invite me. I just showed up. The tears I’d been fighting win out and trickle down my cheeks. “I don’t know. But I shouldn’t have come.”
The woman makes no move to follow me as I take off running. She just stands there, motionless, staring in my direction as I run away.
***
By the time Aunt Claire comes to my room to tell me we’re leaving for brunch soon, I’m not lying when I tell her I’m sick. I drowned the sound of my sobs in a shower long enough for my skin to prune and turn bright red. My head throbs with the aftermath of my crying jag.
“I hope it’s not the flu,” she says, feeling my head for the second time. “The ER has been pummeled by the flu this year. I don’t know why people don’t take their kids for shots.” Realizing my mom probably hadn’t thought about the flu, she backtracks. “I’m sorry, Nikki, I didn’t mean….”
“It’s fine, Aunt Claire. I know what you meant. And I’m sure it’s not the flu.”
She looks at her watch and then back to me. “Maybe I should stay home.”
“To watch me sleep? No, you go. You’ve been looking forward to seeing your friends. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
She looks torn, but agrees. “You’ll call me if you feel any worse?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” I smile, feeling comforted by her concern and wanting to reassure her.
Exhausted from my own emotions running a marathon, I fall asleep for a while. I wake up to my phone chiming. A glimmer of hope fills my heart. It could be Zack apologizing. Maybe he was just having a bad day and realized how much he hurt me.
I swallow back tears at seeing Allie’s name on my phone. Not ready to give up hope, I scroll down just in case I’ve missed a text. There’s nothing from Zack. Allie wants to go to a movie. She’s become a good friend, but I’m not in the mood. I text back that I’m not feeling well. But all I really want is to talk to Ashley.
I dial Ashley’s cell, silently praying that her mother has paid the bill. She answers on the second ring and I roll onto my side in the fetal position, ready to spill my guts.
“Hey,” I say. “You busy?”
“Not at all. Supposed to be watching my Mother’s four spawn but a rerun of Jackass is on, so the TV is babysitting.”
“Even the six year old?”
“It’s Jackass, every age loves it.”
I laugh. “I wasn’t worried he wouldn’t love it. Just wondering if a six year old should be watching it.”
“I’d read to them,” she says defensively. “But I don’t have any books now that you’re gone.” I hear the squeak of the rusty-hinged front door open and then slam shut. She’s gone outside to talk. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” I sigh, rolling onto my back.
“What happened? Whose ass do I need to kick?”
I feel pathetic and sad and a whole lot confused. “I don’t know.” A tear slowly rolls down my face. “I have no idea.”
“Start from the beginning,” Ashley says. And I do. I tell her about the lighthouse and the kiss and how great everything was. How thoughtful Zack seemed and all of the time we spent steaming up the car windows. Even as I tell her, the whole day makes no sense. I suppose I thought walking through the last few weeks aloud would bring an ah-ha moment. Where everything would finally click and make sense. But it only confuses me more.
“So he basically leaned in to kiss you and then walked you out.”
“Basically.” It sounds ridiculous to say it, but it’s really how I see things happened.
“Maybe he’s got the crazies like your Mom.”
“Bipolar,” I correct her for the millionth time.
“Whatever. He sounds like he’s got it. Maybe you’re a carrier and you gave it to him when you kissed him.” She’s teasing, trying to make me feel better.
“Oh and I didn’t tell you the weird part,” I say.
“You mean there’s a part that’s weirder than him groping you then showing you the door?”
“The weird part isn’t about Zack. It’s about the woman.”
“What woman?”
“The one that was staring at me on the first day of school. Remember? I told you about her. It sort of freaked me out for a minute. But then she just disappeared.”
“Okay.”
“She grabbed me when I was leaving Zack’s house and started questioning me.”
“Questioning you about what?”
“Why I was at Zack’s house, I guess.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked me my name and then asked what I was doing there.” I picture the woman’s face as I speak. She was angry.”
/> “Who is she?”
“I have no idea. But her and Zack both definitely didn’t want me there.”
“I wish I was there with you. I’d go kick Zack’s ass for you.”
“Only Zack’s ass? What about the woman?”
“I’d kick her ass using Zack’s limp body as a battering ram.”
I smile, because she definitely would.
We talk for a while longer and I feel a little better when I hang up. At least I’m starting to feel less like it’s something I did.
***
I need to clear my brain of Zack and trying to figure out what happened. Aunt Claire won’t be home for hours, so I decide to take the time to look around in the attic. I’ve snooped through most of the house already, the attic is my last hope to find something about my sister. Aunt Claire showed me the staircase when I first moved in but told me that there was nothing to see but boxes and things in storage. Although she and I have made a lot of progress becoming more comfortable with each other, we still don’t talk openly about my mom or my life before Mom died. It’s always very shallow. I just wish we could both lay our cards on the table. I’m tired of playing solitaire.
The attic is neat and organized. No surprise there. Aunt Claire keeps her life very orderly. Exactly the opposite of how Mom was. There are a lot of boxes. Most are labeled with things like, “Nursing school text books” or “Size 6 winter clothing”. In the corner behind a bunch of other boxes I find one labeled, “Childhood photos and papers.”
Unlike all the other boxes it isn’t taped closed. It looks like Aunt Claire has been in this box recently. Maybe when she learned Mom died she went back and looked at old memories.
Even though I feel increasingly guilty for violating Aunt Claire’s trust with each snooping session, I decide to look inside. She never put any restrictions on where I went in the house or what I touched. Never said I couldn’t look at anything. I keep trying to convince myself I’m not doing something wrong, but I know better.
The box is full of loose papers and pictures. It isn’t neat and organized like the rest of Aunt Claire’s life. There are dozens of school pictures of Aunt Claire. Her and Mom looked a lot alike when they were young.
I find stacks of old report cards— lots of As, perfect attendance and glowing praise from teachers. I wonder what Mom’s say. I can’t imagine they had the same comments. Mom was definitely much more of a rebel than Aunt Claire— that’s one thing I know.
At the bottom of the box I find a large manila envelope labeled “Hospital Records”. Maybe it’s about Aunt Claire’s husband. She doesn’t talk about him very much, but she told me he had cancer and was very sick. I know he was in the hospital for a long time before he died.
I open the envelope, finding yellowed pages. Aunt Claire’s husband only died five years ago. As I flip through the papers, a knot in my stomach forms finding a set of baby footprints. The kind the hospital gives a mom when her baby is born. It’s labeled “Baby Girl A.”
I don’t know if the footprints are mine or my sister’s. I trace the outline of the tiny feet with my finger. The feet are as small as a doll’s, they don’t seem big enough to belong to a real baby. I hadn’t thought about whether we were born full term or not. The miniature footprints make me think we must have been born premature.
Behind the footprints is a document titled “Discharge Note.” I read it slowly learning more than I thought any box would reveal.
Baby Girl A was very sick. She was in the hospital for two months before she was allowed to go home. The note talks about surgery and procedures and things I don’t really understand. I consider asking Allie if she would ask her dad about the procedures since he’s an obstetrician. But I haven’t told Allie anything about my family and I’m not sure I’m ready to let anyone but Ash in on my secrets.
Nothing in the records identifies my sister. Mostly it’s a pile of medical jargon I don’t understand. All of it documenting just one baby— Baby Girl A.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway seizes me with panic. A peek out the curtained window finds Aunt Claire, her car door already opened. Shit. I’ve been up here for more hours than I realized. I hastily drop the papers back into the box and close it, shoving it back into the corner. I dart downstairs, hop into bed, and pretend I’m sleeping when Aunt Claire cracks the door open to check on me.
Chapter 28
Nikki
I don’t hear from Zack the rest of the weekend. By Monday morning I’m a combustible mix of anger and hurt that I think might explode by the time I get to see his face in sixth period English. But I never get the chance. Instead, I stare at his empty seat for forty-six minutes, anxiously waiting for him to walk in.
By Tuesday, my nerves are on edge with worry. This time, he shows up to class, although it might have been easier if he didn’t. My heart speeds up at the sight of him, and I actually feel relief that he’s okay. There are two empty seats in the room. The seat he’s been sitting in every day, directly in front of me, and one on the opposite end of the room. Our eyes lock when he enters just before the bell rings. Then he walks to the other side of the room and sits down. He never looks back, not even when he walks out the door at the end of class.
A week later it’s become abundantly clear that he no longer even wants to be friends. He’s going to just continue to ignore me and pretend nothing ever happened. And I guess I’ll do the same. But it’s easier said than done. Unlike him, what I felt was real.
Concern and worry turn to anger. I’ve replayed the whole morning we last spent together a million times in my head. I’m convinced I did nothing wrong. Yet I can’t help but wonder what set him off. There’s something that flips a switch inside of him that makes him retreat. Like a ticking time bomb, only I have no idea what will make it go off.
I’ve lived a life of not knowing what I was walking into each day. The last week has had me thinking a lot about Mom and her disease. The highs and the lows, and the lack of anything in the middle. Mental illness is easier to accept than someone that just decides they’re done with you.
***
“There’s a party tomorrow night at Keller’s house,” Allie says, as the bell rings signaling the end of lunch. “His parents are going out of town and next week is his eighteenth birthday.” I already knew because Keller had told me about it every day this week. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I don’t know, Allie. I wasn’t really planning on going.”
“I know. That’s why I’m picking you up. So you can’t tell me you’re going to go and then not show up.”
“But…” I try to think of an excuse of why I can’t go, other than the obvious one.
“Seven,” she warns and walks away leaving me no time to argue.
***
It’s six o’clock on Saturday evening and I’m getting ready to go to a party I really don’t want to go to. Aside from the fact that I’m in a mood Aunt Claire dubs melancholy, there’s a good chance Zack will be there since Keller is one of his best friends.
I ignore the bell when it rings, because it’s too early for it to be Allie. But a few minutes later Aunt Claire knocks on the door and let’s Allie into my room.
“Hey. I’m sorry, I thought you were coming at seven.”
“I was, but I thought I’d come early.” She plops on my bed and looks around the room. Her brows furrow at all my packed, neatly organized boxes, yet she doesn’t ask any questions.
“Well, I can be ready fast. I don’t take that long.”
“No rush. I thought maybe you’d want to talk.”
I look at her questioningly and she raises her eyebrows in response. We both know what she’s talking about. It’s been the ten ton elephant in the room for the last two weeks. Allie’s a smart girl. Observant. No doubt she’s watched me stare at Zack’s back during English class, tears threatening at my eyes almost daily.
“Is it that obvious?” I sigh, feeling relieved to talk about it with someone other than A
shley. Don’t get me wrong, Ash is awesome, but she doesn’t know Zack, so I can’t really get her perspective on things. Other than her Zack bashing from hearing a one sided story.
“That you two are both miserable? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious.” She smiles.
“I think you’re mistaking indifference for miserable on Zack’s part.”
“Nope, I’m pretty sure he’s miserable.”
“Why would he be miserable? He’s the one who stopped speaking to me.”
“I don’t know, Nikki. But I see the way he looks at you. He’s crazy about you.”
“Well, he has a funny way of showing it.”
“I know, I wish I knew what was going on in that head of his. But I know he cares about you. I think he’s just still struggling to accept Emily’s death.”
“My mom died around the same time as Emily. I struggle too. Some days are better than others. But I don’t take it out on people I care about.”
“My Dad is an obstetrician at the hospital where Emily’s Dad works. I asked him how her Dad was after the accident and he said he didn’t talk about it at all. People handle things in different ways.”
“I guess.” I finish braiding my hair to the side and brush on a little mascara.
“Let’s go have a good time,” Allie says. “Forget Zack. I like him…I really do. But it’s his loss.”
***
I hear the music blaring from Keller’s house before we even turn the corner to his street. His green, impeccably manicured front lawn is littered with seniors…and red cups. We have to park almost a half block away, because the street is lined with car after car.
The front porch is filled with guys I don’t know, but recognize from the football team. I’ve watched them practice as I ran the track, most of my attention focused on a certain quarterback, but the others still look vaguely familiar. Keller stumbles out the front door just as we approach. He must have started the partying a little before the party started.