Our Song

by Fraiberg, Jordanna

  “Exes? So you are seeing that other boy?”

  “God, you can be so infuriating,” I said, kicking a pebble across the floor.

  “I’m worried. You haven’t been acting like yourself since…”

  “Since when, the accident? Why don’t you just come right out and say it. That you think I deliberately caused it, that you think I wanted to die.”

  “I never said that.”

  “But you did.” I thought about the knife rack and the medicine cabinet, the way she talked down to me, and how she didn’t look at me like she used to. “You should just stick to your orchids. They’re all you care about, anyway.”

  “That’s not true.” Her voice was clipped and distant.

  “Isn’t it? Why do you think Daddy’s never here? Why do you think he always comes home so late?”

  I stopped short of telling her about the hotel receipt. A well of tears gathered and pushed against the back of my eyes. I hadn’t called my father “Daddy” in years. I suddenly wished he were here. Don’t cry, I told myself, biting down on my cheek. I winced. It was still tender from biting it earlier. My mother picked up the can and resumed watering the plants. The slight tremor in her hand caused the water to splatter onto her feet.

  “And for the record,” I continued, “I can’t go back to the way things were before, so you might as well save your energy and stop trying to make me.”

  Before she could respond, I booked it out of there, knocking the crate of baby orchids off the counter on my way. I stepped right on top of the scattered batch of earth, flattening the fallen plants underfoot. She could spend the next ten years trying to bring them back to life for all I cared.

  I raced in through the kitchen, down the hall, toward the front door.

  “Where you going, Ollie?” Noah called out from his room.

  I didn’t realize he was already home from soccer. Had he heard my outburst? Just in case, I turned around and went over to him. “Whatcha doin’, bud?”

  He was sitting on the floor, his hamster cage half disassembled around him. “I was trying to clean it but I don’t know how.”

  I kneeled down beside him. “Where’s Herman?”

  “In here.” He pointed to an old Nike shoebox with small breathing holes poked through the cover. At the sound of Noah’s voice, Herman started scurrying about inside.

  “All right, let’s see.” I surveyed the cage’s various parts. They were caked in dirt and grime. “When’s the last time this was changed?” I asked, eyeing the frosted water bottle attached to one of the grated sides. It was almost empty. What was left had turned an opaque shade of green.

  Noah shrugged. “Mom used to do it.”

  “When did she stop?”

  “When you went away.”

  Something tugged on my heart. I couldn’t help but feel that I was responsible. Noah’s room, like my parents’, faced the garden. I peered out the window. The sun reflected off the greenhouse so that all I could see were the vague contours of a shadow flitting about inside.

  “Sit tight. I’ll just be a minute.”

  I went to the kitchen for cleaning supplies. When I came back, Noah and I got to work wiping down and scrubbing each part.

  “This is quite a cage for such a little guy.”

  “Technically, it’s called a habitat. And dwarf hamsters need a lot of space to run around. Even more than big hamsters.”

  I smiled. “When did you get so smart?”

  He smiled back. “I don’t know. I was just born this way.”

  We laid down the fluffy wood-pulp bedding and finally put in fresh food and water.

  “Shall we?” I said, lifting the lid off the shoebox. I was about to reach in when Noah stopped me.

  “You can’t do it like that. He’ll bite you.” He put the lid back and turned the box. A small, makeshift door had been cut out and taped shut. “You have to do it like this,” he said, removing the tape so the flap swung open.

  Herman’s tiny nose poked out from the dark hole first, his whiskers twitching. “It’s okay, Herman. It’s my sister. Remember her?”

  Noah’s voice spurred him on. His tiny white and brown spotted body followed and he walked out onto Noah’s outstretched palm. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen Herman, if I had even really noticed him before.

  “He really likes you,” I said, watching them interact.

  “Here, want to hold him?”

  Before I had a chance to answer, Noah dropped him in my hand. He was so delicate I could crush him with one squeeze.

  “He likes to be petted here,” Noah said, tickling him under his chin.

  I could feel his tiny body relax into my palm as I gently stroked his fur. He was almost purring. It reminded me of how I used to feel curled up against my dog Buck’s warm belly. Even though he was a seventy-five-pound Lab, and Herman weighed no more than an ounce, the experience didn’t feel all that different.

  “He likes you, too,” Noah said. “He just needs love.”

  I stayed with Noah for the rest of the evening and read him his favorite comic books, while Herman did laps on his wheel. I didn’t leave until they were both sound asleep.

  CHAPTER 18

  I MADE IT to the end of the walkway when the porch light went on.

  “Where are you going?” my mother asked, standing in the open doorway. She checked her watch. “It’s almost dark.”

  “To study at Annie’s.”

  “I don’t see her car.” Her knees were stained with dirt and there was even a smudge across her left cheek. Had she spent all this time cleaning up the mess I made?

  “She’s running late so I decided to walk a bit. She’ll text when she’s nearby.”

  I was learning how a simple lie could mask everything. Just like my dad. We were both living double lives. Only it was strange having that kind of power over my mother.

  “Do you have your keys?” I could tell she wanted to say more, but it was as if something inside her had shifted since our fight, and she backed down. It was something I’d never seen her do. But I didn’t feel triumphant like I expected I would. Instead, I felt sad.

  “Right here,” I said, patting my pocket.

  She leaned further out the door and peered down the street, as if to make sure it was clear of predators. “Just be careful.”

  I didn’t look back until I was halfway down the block. My mother was still standing there, watching me. Framed by the matching flower beds on either side of the door, her stance reminded me of the day I came home from the hospital.

  The backlog of tears started welling up again. It wasn’t just my mother. As much as I tried to push everything that Derek said out of my mind, I couldn’t. Had he really been thinking about me all this time? Had he really been ignoring me because he felt embarrassed? If that was true, why was he dating Betsy, and why was he so public about it? It didn’t make any sense.

  It was cooler now that the sun had set, but the air was still thick and heavy from the day. It had been especially hot lately, but it wasn’t uncommon to have heat waves in May. I glanced up to see if the moon was out, but I was now running too fast to focus. It felt good to move my body, to feel my blood pumping and the oxygen flowing through my lungs.

  I was panting when I got to the corner of Lily Lane and Foothill Crescent at eight thirty, exactly as planned.

  It was the twilight hour, when everything was coated in a glowing blue light and didn’t quite look real, including Nick’s Jaguar, which was just now rounding the corner. He came to a stop and pushed open the passenger door. I hesitated for a second, Derek’s visit still fresh in my mind. He was clearly still with Betsy, so why did I feel guilty seeing Nick?

  My phone chirped and I glanced down. “Did you just text me even though I’m standing right in front of you?”

  “Indeed I did.”

  I smiled and read the message. GR82CU

  “Do I need to translate that one?”

  A warm feeling came over me, like th
e sun had suddenly been revealed after being blocked by clouds for hours. “It’s good to see you, too,” I said, and got in the car.

  “How very MI5 of you,” he said, pulling away from the curb.

  “How what? Is that another obscure British text-ism?”

  “It’s the British secret security service. Sort of like the CIA.” He made a U-turn and started heading toward the freeway. “You know, because of the cryptic pick-up spot. It’s all very mysterious, Olive.”

  “Ha, it’s definitely not that exciting.” As we passed Baskin-Robbins on Vista, I recognized a group of kids from school sitting on one of the benches out front. Getting ice cream was one of the only things to do here on a Wednesday night. “I had to sneak out because I’m on thin ice with my mom.”

  “Not still on account of the great slow chase, I hope?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “Am I going to get you in even more trouble tonight?” He flashed his crooked grin, but from his profile, the way his right cheek muscle was flexed, it appeared as though his whole face was smiling.

  “That remains to be seen.” I pushed my seat back and propped my feet up against the glove compartment. We were on the freeway now, heading south toward L.A. I had no idea where Nick was taking me, back to Hollywood or the desert or maybe someplace new. It was right then that I knew there was no returning to my old life, a life spent accepting the status quo, a life trapped within the invisible boundaries of this antiseptic bubble. Not just because it was impossible. But because it wasn’t what I wanted anymore. Not only was I not the same girl in the bottom-drawer photo anymore, I couldn’t be. “I suppose it’ll depend on your definition of trouble.”

  I cracked the window slightly, letting in a whistling warm breeze. It was a beautiful night.

  Your voice is like an angel

  I can hear without sound.

  My leaden heart starts floating

  Whenever you’re around.

  The song seeped in with the wind, but this time I couldn’t hear the guitar. Only his voice, singing gently in my ear, a whispered lullaby. This was my life. At least right now, in this moment.

  Forty-five minutes later, we exited the freeway onto Sunset Boulevard. Block after block buzzed with nightclubs and bars and restaurants. Practically every car surrounding us swayed and thumped as it cruised along, like the street had been converted into a giant concrete dance floor for moving vehicles.

  “Is this the famous Sunset Strip?” I asked, rolling down the window.

  “It is,” Nick said, glancing up toward the looming hills above. “But we’re just using it as a shortcut tonight.”

  “So I take it you have a destination in mind?”

  “Indeed I do,” he said, flashing that adorable half-smile. “But it’s a surprise.”

  A shiver went up my spine. “For someone who spent the last ten years in England, you know this city pretty well.”

  “You just need the right person to show you.”

  “Lucky for me I already have that,” I said. “The question though, is who was your excellent guide?”

  Nick shifted into a higher gear. The sudden force of acceleration pushed me back against the seat. He didn’t slow down even when we approached a sharp curve. I clutched the door handle as the tires hugged the pavement without so much as a squeak. Even though his gaze was fixed on the road, his mind had clearly gone somewhere else. Just like the time at the club. The question was where?

  As the road straightened out, Nick glanced over. “Don’t worry, she can handle it.” He slapped the dashboard as if it were the side of a horse. I smiled weakly and relaxed my grip on the door. The problem was that I didn’t know if I could handle it. Not his erratic driving, but the secret he seemed to be hiding.

  When I looked out the window, the landscape had changed. I was already getting used to this, how the city could transform so drastically from one block to the next. Gone were the fancy bars and stores. Now, almost every concrete surface was tagged in black spray paint, and in some cases, bright, colorful graffiti like the kind we saw on our way to Skid Row. Were we going back there? After a few turns, Nick pulled into an empty lot.

  “What is this place?” I asked, staring up at what looked like a bombed-out building. Wooden boards covered a gaping hole where the front door should have been.

  “It’s a church.”

  Nick didn’t strike me as the religious type. And this didn’t strike me as much of a church. I poked my head out the window. A stone bell tower stretched high above the steeple. It was practically the only thing that seemed intact. Most of the wall facing us was boarded up too. “What happened to it?”

  “There was a fire a few years ago and it’s just been sitting here since.”

  He led me to the other side of the building, where there was a gap between the boards just wide enough to slide through. Inside, it was just a big, empty, cavernous space. Clearly it had already been looted. No pews or pulpits or any sign that this was a place of worship remained, except for the stained-glass windows near the ceiling. They were probably too high for anyone to reach.

  It smelled damp but the air was oddly clear as we walked through. Shards of tinted moonlight filtered through the colored glass. When we reached the pulpit, there was a low archway concealed on the other side. It looked like a secret passage. Nick ducked his head and walked through.

  “Where are you going?” I whispered, even though we were the only ones there.

  “To the top.” He took another step and motioned for me to follow.

  I crouched through the opening, where a spiral staircase coiled up from the ground. It was so narrow we had to walk up single file. I paused after my first step. The wooden stairs were so soft and damp it felt like they might collapse beneath me.

  “Everything okay?” Nick was already halfway up. His voice echoed down the stairs, like a stone skipping across a lake.

  “Yes,” I called up, hoping the echo would mask the hesitation in my voice. I steeled myself and kept climbing, careful not to grip the banister too hard. It was just a long, twisted nylon rope, the kind you might find on a boat. Half the hooks meant to secure it to the wall were missing, so it drooped like a wilted flower just above the stairs. One wrong tug would have me swinging like a chandelier.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as I reached the top. I stepped out next to him on the wide stone balcony. “I should have asked if you were afraid of heights.”

  “I’m not,” I said, realizing that wasn’t what I was afraid of. I was afraid that Nick’s heart belonged to someone else. And if it were true, that it could never belong to me.

  He relaxed his shoulders. “Then come check it out.” I joined him by the concrete railing at the edge of the balcony and looked down. We towered over the city and its flickering lights. The moving cars looked so much smaller from here, like they were toys that could fit in the palm of my hand.

  “This is my favorite view,” Nick said, letting out a sigh.

  “I can see why.” It was so different from the flat, fixed panorama I was used to from my bedroom window, the stagnant sea of identical homes, one after the other. This view was endless and full of possibility.

  My arm brushed against Nick’s as I shifted forward on my elbows. There was just a thin piece of cotton separating us, and I could practically feel his warm skin through my sleeve. It was like the charged cackle of static electricity. We weren’t touching, but almost. Maybe it was better this way, standing on the edge, suspended in between, where you can’t get your hopes up too high or your heart broken.

  The sound of hundreds of car engines rose up from the streets, morphing into a quiet roar that was oddly calming, like white noise. It reminded me of the way all the discordant sounds in my head reduced down to a soothing hiss. Looking down at the city sprawled out below, I noticed there was no particular grid or pattern. It looked more like bicycle spokes sprouting from an amorphous center. None of the spokes were the same len
gth; some jutted out at odd angles like they were broken, but somehow they all fit together.

  Nick stepped up on the railing, pressing his entire body weight against it. By now, I was used to his risky stunts. But the way he was leaning, his waistline teetering over the ledge, made it seem like this time he was deliberately tempting fate.

  “Are you sure that’s safe?”

  He knocked the railing with his knuckles. “Solid as a rock.”

  I came closer and also leaned into the railing. There was something about the warm, sweet air and the twinkling lights below that made me feel like I could do anything.

  Maybe that’s how Nick felt, too. Invincible.

  I closed my eyes. It felt like I was floating, like I was being lifted up and carried away by the rising hum. Like I had experienced this feeling before.

  A loose stone gave way beneath my foot. I snapped open my eyes. For a second all I could see was the ground hundreds of feet below. Nick grabbed my arm and yanked me back as the rock plummeted to the street. He was squeezing me so hard it hurt.

  “I’m so sorry.” That same mysterious flicker crossed his face again. “You were right. It isn’t safe.”

  The way he said it sounded like a warning. “It was just a pebble.” I tried to meet his gaze but his hair flopped over into his eyes. “I’m okay. See?”

  I twirled across the patio, my skirt billowing with the motion. It was the first time I could remember feeling genuinely feminine, and it wasn’t because of what I was wearing. It was the way I felt when I was with Nick.

  “Come on, sit down over here,” Nick said, his face softening.

  We settled into a spot on the ground under the cover of the clock tower, far from the railing. Leaning back against the cool stone wall, the giant brass bell gently swayed above. It felt like we were in a hot air balloon, with only the starlit sky around us.

  I reached into my bag and quickly typed out a text without Nick’s seeing. His pocket vibrated the moment I hit send, and I watched his grin reappear as he read the message. “You’re welcome,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.