by Leah Scheier
This quiet feels so unnatural; I can almost hear my brother breathing on the other side of the wall. My phone is lying next to me on the pillow. I scroll through my friends’ names and tap out a greeting to our WhatsApp group, then quickly delete it. What’s the point in chatting? I can’t say what I’m really thinking. Might as well just go to sleep. I slide over to the edge of my bed and tap the wall between us, count out five sharp knocks.
Like I do every night.
There’s a short pause, and for the first time in my life, I’m terrified he’s not going to respond. That he’s fallen asleep without waiting for my good night.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. Let it out, in a slow, cleansing exhale, just as I’ve taught Ethan to do. I focus on each breath, concentrate on the rise and fall of my chest. Ten beats pass.
And then his voice comes through the wall.
“Good night, Rain.”
He says it like he always does, in his clipped, low monotone, but to me the words sound almost musical, like a child’s bedtime story. I feel my heart rate slow, my muscles relax. It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. I can go to sleep now. My brother’s still there.
ETHAN’S JOURNAL:
The cholecystectomy was a successful operation. The predicted obstacles were not as difficult to overcome as expected. In the hallways, when the noise level became overwhelming, I utilized the breathing and relaxation exercises Rain taught me. When the surgeon took us to the operating room, it was a relief. The quiet voices, the unblinking light, the predictable, ordered routine. It’s as if the room was designed for me. After Dr. Peters dismissed us, I took a much-needed bathroom break. While I was in the stall, two medical students from our team entered.
“Let it go,” the one with the deeper voice said. “I don’t think he was trying to show off.”
“Who cares?” High Voice replied. “We’re the ones getting graded. You’d think he’d have realized he needed to shut up. I kept staring him down, but he was ignoring me. What a dick.”
Deep Voice laughed. “That kid sure knew his shit though.”
“People like that always know their shit,” High Voice said. “They’re basically walking computers. It sucks for me though. Today’s the end of the rotation, and I got showed up by a teenage robot.”
Deep Voice zipped up his pants and stepped over to the sink. The splashing water obscured the beginning of his reply. All I caught was his final statement: “I’d rather fail the surgery elective than spend a day in that boy’s life. I wonder what it’s like to live without emotions?”
High Voice made a snorting sound. “Whatever. How would he even know what he’s missing?”
On the way home from the hospital, I told Liam what I had heard. He didn’t say anything at first.
“Do you think I’m missing something?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Of course not. Don’t let those morons upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” I tell him. “Because I know they’re wrong. I just can’t prove it.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
He’s probably right. Still, I think it would be easier for me if I could explain what I was feeling. When I was little, I would just scream until my sister fixed whatever was bothering me. Rain once told me that I keep my emotions in a box, and that no one has the key to the box. I had no idea what that meant. So I said, “Rain, what are you feeling right now?” She started to answer me, and I interrupted her. “No. I want you to describe your emotions. But you have to do it in German.”
Here’s the thing: If she traveled to Germany she would still feel things. But she’d have to use big, weird gestures to show people what she meant because she doesn’t speak German. And no one would understand her, no matter how hard she tried.
After I asked her to describe her emotions in German, Rain was quiet for a little while. Then she wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed. She does that when she wants to give me a hug but can’t.
“You’re always in Germany, aren’t you?”
Chapter 21
I’m supposed to be moving on. Finishing my schoolwork, studying for the SATs. Coming up with new ideas for the blog. But it’s getting harder for me to concentrate on anything. I keep spacing out and forgetting what I was doing. My brain has already dismissed the drunken night as a stupid mistake. But my heart keeps hovering over what happened in the truck.
I need something to distract me, somebody to talk to. Not Liam, obviously. He’s freaked out enough as it is.
My mom is out of the question for obvious reasons; even if “Hey, Mom, guess what I did in the back of a truck?” is something I could remotely picture saying, the last thing I want is to stress her out. Ethan is out because he’s Ethan.
Hope would be the obvious choice, but she’s linked to Ethan in my mind now, and I don’t want to make things even more complicated than they already are.
I could try calling my dad, I think. What a weird conversation that would be! Hey, Dad, I know we haven’t spoken for a while, but guess what I just did? That would be one way to break the ice between us.
I’m staring dully at my phone when it suddenly starts to flash. Kathy. With everything that had been going on, I’d completely forgotten to respond to her messages.
I heard about your mom, she texts. Are you okay? Do you mind if I come over?
I’m all right, I tell her. You can come now if you want.
I put a batch of chocolate and peanut butter wontons in the oven (Blog idea: Chinatown meets Willy Wonka!) and greet her with a plate of steaming dumplings. We are both occupied with the gooey, hot dough for a few minutes; she doesn’t talk about anything except chocolate until the plate in front of us is empty.
“I’m sorry if I’m bugging you,” she begins. “I know your mom’s been sick and everything—”
“It’s fine; she’s getting better. They discharged her yesterday.”
“Oh, that’s good.” She glances over her shoulder uneasily. “Is your brother at home?”
“Ethan? Yeah. He’s upstairs. Why?”
She hesitates. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Okay… It’s about Ethan?”
“Sort of.” She clears her throat. “Not exactly. He didn’t say anything to you?”
What is going on? “About what?” I ask. “Did something happen at the party?”
My baffled expression seems to relax her, and she leans back against her seat with a sigh. “I figured he’d told you. So you have no idea what happened after the Halloween party?”
“No!” My voice rises. I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone all night. “Did something happen to him? Why didn’t Hope say anything to me?”
“Hope wasn’t there for most of it. And nothing bad happened. Not to him, anyway. Don’t look so scared.”
“Please just tell me already!”
“I’m trying! But it’s hard, all right? I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about this. My parents found out about the party and grounded me. I only got them to let me out today because I said that you had my homework assignments.” She sighs, and her face crumples up.
I’m distracted from my worries about Ethan for a moment. I’ve never seen Kathy so upset. And she’s never come to me on her own about anything before; I’ve rarely seen her without her boyfriend by her side. Why wasn’t she talking to Marcus, instead of me?
“I know it’s not Ethan’s fault,” she whimpers, “but I just hate him right now.”
My confusion is complete. I can’t begin to imagine what happened at the party. What could Ethan possibly have done?
“What are you saying?” I ask her gently.
She swallows and clears her throat. “Your brother—” A sob interrupts her confession. “I can’t believe I had to find out this way.”
I’m suddenly afrai
d again. A thousand crazy scenarios flash through my mind. Did someone hurt my brother at the party? It’s no wonder he’d been pulling away from me recently. When he needed me the most, I’d gone off and abandoned him. How could I have let my guard down? I remember the foggy windows of Liam’s truck and the bile rises to my throat. This was all my fault. I should have stood my ground and not let Ethan out of my sight. Spied on him, if necessary. “Kathy, what happened?” I whisper. I’m terrified and imagining the worst.
She takes a deep breath and the words finally spill out. “Marcus…Marcus tried to hit on your brother.”
I have no thoughts. My mind is a complete blank. I stare at her.
“I was upstairs most of the night,” she continues. “I didn’t want people to see me throwing up. But after everyone went home I came down for a drink of water. Hope wasn’t in the living room—I think she’d gone to the bathroom. But Ethan was sitting on the couch. And Marcus was with him.”
I can’t breathe; I feel like I’m choking. “What happened?” I repeat hoarsely.
“They couldn’t see me. But I could hear everything. Marcus—my boyfriend—was crying. ‘You’re beautiful, Ethan,’ he was saying to him. Over and over. ‘Do you know how beautiful you are?’”
“Oh.” I’m struggling to grasp what she’s telling me. “But…that was it? Maybe it didn’t mean anything. He was drunk.”
She shakes her head and wipes a sleeve over her wet cheeks. “And then he said, ‘Don’t tell Kathy what I told you. It’ll break her heart if she finds out I’m gay.’”
There’s a miserable silence. I have no idea what to say to her, so I just hold her hands as she cries. “I know Marcus was wasted,” she continues after a moment. “But it was real. What he was feeling. He meant every word. I’m sure he did.”
I feel terrible. Shouldn’t I have sensed my friend was hiding something this huge? I knew Marcus’s parents were super religious. It wasn’t at all surprising he’d kept it from them. And of course he couldn’t tell his girlfriend. Maybe he’d chosen to come out to Ethan because he was the only one who wouldn’t judge him, a near stranger who would just listen. Or maybe the whiskey had chosen for Marcus that night.
I can’t imagine how lost Kathy must feel now. Until now, if I had to bet on any couple surviving into adulthood, I would have picked her and Marcus.
Still, as sorry as I am for Kathy, I can’t help thinking about the quiet bystander in her story. From force of habit, it’s simply where my mind goes. What had my brother thought about all of this? I wonder. How had Marcus’s confession affected him? And why hadn’t Ethan told me what had happened? Had he kept Marcus’s secret because it was the right thing to do? Or did he simply not understand what he’d witnessed?
“What did Ethan say to him?” I ask her.
She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think he had any idea what was happening. He just sat there.”
“And then what did he do?”
“I don’t know, Rain. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about Ethan. That’s not the point, don’t you see?”
“No, I know.” Of course it’s not the point. I realize that, even as I’m dying to find out what Kathy’s heartbreak looked like to Ethan. But I know I need to focus on my friend right now and leave Ethan behind for once. “I’m so sorry.”
She sits back and rubs her hands beneath her swollen eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. I know that this is not about me. There’s this little voice that keeps telling me that I’m being selfish, that it’s my job as his best friend to support him.”
“That isn’t selfish. You love him.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not allowed to love him anymore. At least not the way I used to. But I don’t know how to separate the Marcus I’ve grown up with from the Marcus I want to kiss. He’s always been there for me, ever since we were little. But now I can’t go to him. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel. It’s not like a regular breakup, you know? He didn’t do anything wrong, so I can’t be angry at him. I want to be angry at him because it would be easier than what I’m feeling. It would be so much easier if I didn’t just want him to hold me.”
“You can still go to him, Kathy. I’m sure he misses you.”
Her face crumples up again. “Then don’t you think he would have called? He knows I overheard. He looked up just after I came in. God, Rain, the expression on his face—”
“Did he say anything?”
“He didn’t have a chance. Hope walked in right after me. But I don’t think she heard what Marcus said. She hasn’t said a word to me about it.”
“Or maybe she just thought that Marcus was drunk,” I suggest. “He was drunk, you know.”
“Obviously! But no amount of alcohol will make you come out of the closet if you aren’t…if you aren’t in one to begin with.”
There’s no way to answer that. She lets out a weak sigh. “Yeah, well. And you know what the strangest part is? After I got over the shock of it, the only thing I could think about was why did I have to find out like this? Why hadn’t he trusted me? Why hadn’t he told me?”
“Kathy, you’re the last person he’d want to tell. He didn’t want to hurt you.”
She frowns and slowly gets up from the sofa. “He’s been my best friend since elementary school. I’ll get over losing my boyfriend if I have to. But do I have to lose my best friend too? Why won’t he call me? He hasn’t been in school since the party. I’ve tried calling him, but he’s not answering. And he always answers!”
“He’s probably terrified,” I tell her. “Look, maybe I can talk to him for you—”
“No,” she snaps. “No way. I’m not sending messengers. He knows how to reach me if he wants to.”
“But are you sure he’s okay? It’s been days since the party.”
She waves her hand, dismissing my concern. “I talked to his mom. She told me that he’s suffering from migraines and the doctor prescribed some meds and rest. I didn’t get a worried vibe from her. I don’t think she has any idea what’s really going on.”
“She thinks you’re still together?”
“I guess,” she replies with a shrug. “Look, I have to go. My parents gave me half an hour, and I’m already late. But thanks for listening.”
I can’t help admiring her strength then, the way she squares her shoulders and stubbornly lifts her chin, even as tears stream down her cheeks. When she was part of the Octopus I’d always thought her a little needy. But now that her supporting other half is gone, she hasn’t collapsed. She seems to stand taller; there’s a quiet dignity in her dark eyes.
“Kathy, anytime you want to talk—”
“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Not Liam. Not even Hope. It’s Marcus’s secret, not mine. I came to you because I assumed Ethan had told you. And I was desperate to talk to someone.”
I promise not to say anything, and she gives me a quick goodbye hug. As the door closes behind her I hear a rustle on the stairs. My mother is shuffling down the steps, holding on to the railing and swearing softly under her breath. She’s dressed in a long robe that’s fallen open to reveal her jutting bones. Her long blond hair hangs like a matted blanket around her face. She’s looking a little more alive today; her face has lost some of its deathly pallor, and her cheeks have begun to fill out. But she’s still extremely weak, and I run over to help as she stumbles and grasps at the banister.
“The doctor said you were supposed to stay in bed,” I scold. “I can bring you whatever you need.”
“What I need is for people to stop telling me what to do,” she retorts. “And maybe a breath of fresh air. I can still taste the hospital disinfectant.”
I want to argue with her, but I’m not sure if that counts as adding to her stress. The doctor was very clear about the importance of peace of mind. I can’t upset her now, even if I think it’s for her own good.
&nb
sp; “Would you like a papaya mango smoothie?” I ask her. “I’ve been reading that papaya is a great natural digestive aid.” But she waves away the suggestion, just like she’s waved away every one of my colon-friendly concoctions over the last two days. “Just tea, thanks,” she says, and heads off to the living room.
“Hello, Rain.” Ethan’s voice startles me, and I turn around to see him wavering on the top step. “Has Kathy left?”
“She’s gone. Why? Were you hiding from her?” The question comes out a bit snarkier than I intended.
“Yes,” Ethan says. “Kathy told me she hates me.”
My mom whips around and zips back to stand behind me. “What?”
“After the party,” he says. “When Marcus left and Hope went out to look for Rain. Kathy said I ruined her life. Then she threw up.”
“What party?” Mom says, her voice darkening. “I thought it was a small get-together.” Oh, crap. Stop talking, I warn him with my eyes. Of course, he doesn’t hear me.
“Kathy had a party on Halloween,” he continues innocently. “But it was important for me to go. Because it’s one of my steps. It was worth five points.”
She ignores him and turns to me. “Kathy threw up?” she demands. “Was there alcohol at this party?”
I could simply admit it. A couple weeks ago I probably would have and taken my punishment. How bad could it be, anyway? A grounding, some extra chores? But I’m not scared for myself now. I need my mom to trust me; not just for me—but because I can see the stress flushing up her face as she glares at me. I’m supposed to be protecting her too, just like I’ve always protected Ethan. And yet I’ve managed to do just the opposite.
“It wasn’t… I didn’t—” I falter. She’s tapping her foot.