WE ARE US

by Leigh, Tara

  I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence. “I’ll be right there.”

  Running down the hall, I skid into the living room on socked feet to find my mother dozing on the couch, her mouth partially open, empty coffee mug on the table beside her. Shit. I know better than to wake her.

  I jog back down the hall, to Sadie’s room. “Hey—”

  “Don’t you even knock?” She’s lying on her bed, holding a book with a half-naked man on it a few inches from her face.

  “Can you cover for me if Mom wakes up? I need to take the car into town—I won’t be long.”

  Sadie sits up and looks pointedly outside her window. “Poppy, you only just got your license and you want to go driving in that?”

  Urgency clutches at the tendons of my throat, turning my voice into a croak. “I have to.”

  “What for?”

  “I—” Glancing down at my watch I see that I only have twenty minutes to get into town before the store closes. It takes fifteen on a sunny afternoon. “I’ll tell you later. Please.”

  Her features soften. “Go. I’ll handle mom if she wakes up.” After shooting her a grateful smile, I’m halfway to the back door when I hear her call softly. “Just be safe.”

  I make it to the store just as the manager is coming around the register with a set of keys. Her shoulders slump, a heavy sigh hallowing out her chest. “We’re closing.”

  “I’m sorry, I called a few minutes ago?” My voice ends higher like I’m asking a question. “I’m just picking up a photo order. I’ll only be a minute.”

  My heart is practically crashing against my ribcage by the time I’m back in my mom’s car, soaked to the skin. I grab the plastic bag and rip open the envelope containing photos Gavin must have taken with the camera of his phone. There are only fifteen, that’s all his phone would store, and he said he wished he’d gotten one with more memory a dozen times.

  But as I flip through each one, the tears fall harder until my vision is as blurry as the windshield of my mom’s car.

  Gavin and I, lying in a pile of fallen leaves we’d raked with our hands. Our heads are touching, our hair mingling together. Huge grins stretch across our faces, a halo of red and yellow and copper leaves forming around us. I run a finger over Gavin’s lips now. We were so happy that day. So happy whenever we were together.

  There’s a photo of me, my eyes closed, lying on a bed of blankets in our cave. My shoulders are naked, and I know the rest of me is too, although the picture frame ends just below my collarbone. I don’t remember him taking this picture, though I’m almost certain I know he did—the night we made love for the first time. My moonstone pendant is visible in the shot, although my hair is partially covering it. And there’s a softness to my features, a sated kind of blissfulness that shows even in this photograph.

  There’s a selfie of us in front of my favorite tree, a yellow birch with thick, exposed roots that we sometimes sit on like chairs. Another where we’re sitting on the high rock ridge we climbed that led us to our cave all those years ago. And another of us standing on either side of the GC + PW Gavin had carved into the smooth, mouse-gray trunk of a beech tree.

  The rain is still coming down when I finally drive home, the sky sludgy and even darker than before. Sadie is waiting for me in the kitchen, and she tosses me a box of tampons as I come into the room.

  “Thanks, Poppy. You’re a lifesaver,” she says loudly, jerking her head toward the living room and taking the tampons back. “Mom, Poppy’s home.”

  My mom stumbles into the kitchen, clutching her coffee cup and weaving slightly. “Sadie, that is the last time you’ll send your sister out into a storm.” Her voice trails off as she gestures with her mug at the window rattling from the wind. “And Poppy, you should have told her to stuff her underwear with paper towels.”

  Sadie heads back to her room, I’m sure biting her tongue.

  “It’s okay, Mom. It was no problem.”

  Pouring the last of her bottle into her mug, she returns to the comfort of her couch, shaking her head and mumbling. “There’s no reason to be out in this. That girl, just no consideration.”

  A few moments later, I tap lightly on Sadie’s bedroom door, waiting until I hear, “come in,” to open it.

  “Thank you. I—” A wave of remorse pierces the thick veil of worry and confusion that has blinded me since reading Gavin’s texts. “I’m really sorry, Sadie. For earlier, and for the million other times I’ve bitten your head off for no good reason.”

  Sadie accepts my apology more easily than I deserve. “It’s fine, sis. We’re stuck with each other, for better or worse.”

  A soggy laugh tumbles from my throat. When we were younger, we joked about marriage vows being pointless because, in our case, they certainly hadn’t kept our parents together. I’m not even sure my parents were actually married. We’ve never seen any pictures of my mom in a white dress, and her answers are always vague. But sisters, we said, would always be together, for better or worse, no matter what.

  “I’m lucky to be stuck with you, Sadie. I owe you.”

  “Not as much as I owe you. But don’t worry, I’ll get even with you one day.”

  “I, um…” I look down at the wrapped bag of photographs in my hand. I promised Sadie an explanation. “These are—”

  Our stare is broken when her phone chimes. She picks it up and glances at the screen. “Can we—”

  “Of course.” I flash a quick smile and back out of Sadie’s room, clutching at any excuse to delay a conversation I’m in no condition to have.

  I spend the night staring at Gavin’s photographs, finally easing out the back door when the first light of dawn streaks through the sky.

  The storm wreaked havoc in the preserve. The hiking trails are slippery, muddy rivers. Decades old trees are uprooted, twigs and branches and huge sheared-off limbs scattered over the forest floor like LEGO bricks.

  But nothing is going to keep me from the woods today.

  I left something for you in our place. It explains everything.

  It better, Gavin. Because if it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  Part II

  Chapter 10

  Worthington University

  Fall Semester, Freshman Year

  “I think that’s the last of it,” my mom says, blowing a piece of hair off her damp forehead and surveying the bags and boxes we’d stacked near the narrow closet.

  She’s taken the day off work to drive me to school, but I can tell all the happy, two-parent families—especially the fathers hauling suitcases and trunks up and down the stairs, their sweaty faces beaming with pride—are making her uncomfortable. Now that her car is unpacked, she’s hovering by the open door, half in, half out of my dorm room. Eager to escape.

  I don’t have it in me to manage my mother’s emotions right now. I can barely manage my own.

  Frankly, I just want her and my sister to leave so I can walk over to the administration building. I’ve called several times, but no one will tell me whether Gavin has registered as an incoming freshman yet. If I don’t have more success in person, I’m prepared to stake out every dorm until I find him…

  If he’s here.

  Out of habit, I lift my hand to my neck, my fingers closing over the moonstone pendant Gavin gave me for my birthday. This necklace, a few pictures, and hope are all I have left of him. Hope that he’ll show up here, to Worthington University. Just like we’d planned.

  Last spring, when I finally made it into the preserve after the Nor’easter storm slammed Sackett, I’d found our cave completely flooded. I returned every day for weeks, searching the cave itself and the surrounding area as the water receded. But it was no use. The only thing I found of even the slightest interest was a phone, the kind you buy at a gas station. It was caked in mud a few feet from the entrance to our cave. I tried to turn it on, but the wiring must have short-circuited after being submerged for so long.

  Whatever Gavin left for me
was either destroyed or lost.

  As of today, I’m officially a Worth U student. I’ve been dreaming about it for as long as I can remember. Dreaming of starting a new life. But without Gavin, everything about this place, this day, this new life… feels all wrong.

  “Thanks for your help.” I muster up what I hope is at least a shadow of an appreciative grin for my mom and sister. “Why don’t I walk you out—”

  But Sadie is in no hurry to leave. She crosses the room, running her hand over my roommate’s crisp white duvet and navy pillows. “I should have known you would wind up with the best roommate, Poppy.” A trace of envy is threaded through her voice.

  Surveying the other side of my room, my spirits sink even lower. Of course, I would get paired with a diva.

  By the looks of it, an advance team of interior designers had arrived at dawn to renovate exactly fifty percent of our shared room. Both sides have a bed, nightstand, dresser, and desk. But mine are clearly school-issued and hers are… not.

  Real artwork, as opposed to sticky-taped posters, hang on the wall behind her upholstered headboard. And the bed itself has been raised off the floor, three bunching chests arranged beneath. Her chair is sleek white leather, her desk made of glass and chrome. And above her dresser, the mirror is extra-wide, with lighting strips adhered to the perimeter, like it belongs in a backstage dressing room.

  The overall effect is disconcerting, like standing inside a Before and After photo.

  I frown as Sadie sits down on the bed, bouncing a little on the mattress. “We haven’t even met her yet.”

  “Yeah, but look at all her stuff. She must be loaded.”

  Finally, picking up on the disparity my sister pointed out, my mom’s bloodshot eyes bounce from one side of the room to the other. “Maybe you can pick up a few things to brighten things up.”

  What this room really needs is a wall down the middle of it.

  “You know, if she decides not to show, I could probably come up here on weekends and—”

  I flash Sadie an exasperated look. “If you really want to be here, you should spend more time reading textbooks than romance novels.”

  Sadie just rolls her eyes. Studying is not her thing. If she’s not obsessing over her current crush, she’s curled up with a fictional book boyfriend. I think all those contrived endings have Sadie convinced that her life will play out like a plot written by her favorite author. The cute, quirky girl lands the sexy, brilliant, rich sports star and they live happily ever after.

  I used to believe in happy endings, too.

  Now I know better.

  Fairy tales don’t come true for everyone. Some girls kiss their prince and he turns into a frog, then hops away.

  “Excuse me.” The polite words are delivered like a reprimand by a tall, thin blonde standing in the hall.

  My mom steps aside, my sister jumping off the bed, wearing a guilty expression as she crosses back to my side of the room.

  The blonde strides into the room, immediately followed by her slightly younger looking replica. They are both wearing dark jeans, narrow belts, and fitted white shirts.

  “Which of you girls is Poppy?” says the one who is either an older sister or a mother with a plastic surgeon on speed dial.

  Feeling at a disadvantage, I immediately regret ignoring the letter I’d received with my roommate’s contact information. It was sent a few weeks ago, to encourage incoming freshmen to get to know each other before move-in day.

  Then again, she hadn’t reached out to me either.

  “That’s me,” I say.

  “Lovely.” She gestures at her mini-me. “I’m sure you and Wren will have a fantastic year together.”

  Wren and I regard each other silently, mutual doubts piling up between us.

  “I’m Sadie, Poppy’s sister.” For once, I appreciate Sadie’s unwillingness to be ignored.

  “Lovely. I’m Cecelia Knowles, Wren’s mother.” Her slender neck twists back toward the door. “And you must be …”

  “Poppy’s mom,” she acknowledges, a hand fluttering over her throat.

  Mrs. Knowles’s polite smile drops a bit when my mom shows no sign of volunteering her first name. I almost want to explain that my mom doesn’t mean to be unfriendly, it’s just the way she is. Always an extension of something—Sadie’s mom, Poppy’s mom, Dr. Rankin’s receptionist. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard her introduce herself as herself, Emily Whitman.

  But, of course, I don’t, and the awkward moment ends when Mrs. Knowles turns her attention to her daughter’s side of the room, opening drawers and peering into the closet, flicking on the desk lamp.

  Wren is only carrying a backpack, which she sets on her chair.

  “I have orientation soon,” I say, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. There’s nothing left for my mom and sister to do, and if Gavin is here, I need to find him.

  He has to be here.

  Eager to be off, my mom comes toward me with outstretched arms, smelling slightly acidic and oaky, like Chardonnay. “Take care of yourself, okay? Study hard and make good choices.”

  I walk them back down to the parking lot, smiling and waving as if there isn’t a fist of fear twisting and turning inside my stomach. I’m not scared about being on my own or getting good grades. I’m terrified that today is the day I’ll have to face a truth I’ve been denying for months. That Gavin is gone… and he’s never coming back.

  Once the taillights of my mom’s battered Honda disappear into a line of receding cars, I jog across campus toward the main quad. A perennial favorite on lists of “America’s Most Beautiful Universities,” Worthington was modeled after Cambridge and Oxford Universities in England. But today I barely notice the beautiful gothic architecture that had me sighing over the brochures, dreaming of the moment this place would become my home.

  “Hi.” I don’t wait for the gray-haired, heavyset woman sitting behind the front desk to look up before I begin speaking. “I’m an incoming freshman and I hope you can help—”

  She lifts the glasses hanging on a beaded necklace to her face and peers up at me. “Did you just move into your dorm?”

  “Yes. Crawford Hall.”

  “And will you be attending orientation this afternoon?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well then, my dear, you are no longer incoming. You are here.” She beams at me. “Welcome to Worthington University.”

  “Thank you,” I say, the depressed fog I’ve been living in fragmenting the slightest bit in the face of her unexpected warmth. “I’m glad to be here.” Regardless of what happens with Gavin, I am grateful to be taking this first step away from Sackett.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a friend. He was supposed to be here, too. I mean, we applied together and we both got in but…” Sadness and fear and confusion come rushing back, the emotions slamming into me like a rogue wave. I sway on my feet, feeling the blood drain from my face.

  The administrator comes rushing around her desk and guides me into a chair. “There, there. If your friend is here, we’ll find him. You just sit down right next to me.” She reaches into her desk drawer and pulls out a handful of Hershey kisses and plastic-wrapped butterscotch candies. “Have a little treat, dear. Sugar makes everything sweeter.”

  I unwrap a butterscotch with trembling fingers and place it on my tongue, grateful for the explosion of flavor that somehow manages to help me focus. She looks at me with an encouraging smile. “There you go. All better?”

  No. But I nod anyway. “Thank you,” I glance at the nameplate on her desk, “Mrs. McGill.”

  “Just call me Roz. Everyone does.” Her chair squeaks as she settles back into it and turns her attention to her computer screen. “Now, you just tell me who you’re looking for and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Gavin. Gavin Cross.”

  As Roz’s fingers dance across the keyboard, I allow myself to imagine that she’ll turn to me with an ebullient smile, ann
ouncing his dorm and room number.

  I’ll smile and clap my hands. I’ll say, I know exactly where that is. Thank you, I’ll go find him right now.

  We’ll share a laugh and she’ll insist that I take a few more candies with me, maybe remind me to keep a pack of Lifesavers and a water bottle in my backpack.

  And then I’ll go find Gavin and…

  But her keyboard goes quiet, and I know what she’s going to say before the words leave her mouth. She says them anyway. “I’m sorry dear. There’s no Gavin Cross in our system. He isn’t here.”

  He isn’t here.

  I manage to nod and thank her again before stumbling back into the sunshine, a fistful of candy melting inside my hand.

  He isn’t here.

  And I realize that my mom’s advice will be hard to follow. Not the studying part. It’s the “making good choices” part that I need to work on.

  My track record is shit.

  I entrusted my heart to a beautiful, broken boy. Gavin’s kisses left me loose-limbed and starry-eyed, but his whispered words of love were the cruelest of illusions.

  I am his and he is mine and we are us.

  I am hers and she is mine and we are us.

  We are us.

  Lies. All lies.

  Chapter 11

  Worthington University

  Fall Semester, Freshman Year

  “Are you going to close that?” Wren’s voice is a mix of bored and disdainful as she points a manicured fingernail behind me.

  I ease my backpack onto my bed, nearly groaning as the heavy weight slides off my shoulders. “Sure thing.”

  We’ve been sleeping less than ten feet away from each other for a month and our relationship is just as formal and stilted now as it was the day we moved in. I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew from the moment I saw her side of the room that we’d never be friends.

  I can’t blame it all on Wren, though. I’m no better at making friends here than I was in Sackett.