by Leah Scheier
He gives me a strange look. “Dad’s not stupid, Rain. He knows I have to go to medical school to become a doctor. The points are not about that.”
“What are they about then?”
“They’re just motivation. When I collect a hundred, Dad gives me a prize.”
“What prize?”
“I get to visit him in DC. By myself.”
There’s no hint of maliciousness in his last words, but they smart anyway, almost as if he’d said without YOU. I duck my head and focus on the letters in front of me. The last line catches my attention, but I’m not sure whether it’s too personal a point. So instead I tap item three on Ethan’s list. “So are any of these actually dreams of yours? Like, listen to someone talk about their problems without interrupting. I guess that’s what you did just now. When I was complaining about us.”
“Yes. Also when I listened to Marcus. I think I should get two points for that. His problem was really long.”
I can’t help laughing. “You’re probably right. But it’s not a dream of yours exactly, is it?”
“No. That’s just one of the ways I can pretend.”
“Pretend? Pretend what?”
“Pretend to be neurotypical,” he responds quietly.
“But I thought you didn’t want to be neurotypical.”
“Of course I don’t. But Dad said that sometimes I’ll have to pretend. To get through the day.”
“I guess so. Especially if you want to be a doctor.”
“Yes. And if I want to get to the last step on the list.”
I fold the paper and hand it back to him. The last line was just two words, scrawled boldly across the bottom in fluid script.
Kiss Hope.
“Is the last step also a way to pretend?” I ask him.
“No,” he says. “The last step is my dream.”
ETHAN’S JOURNAL:
Biological Theories behind the Human Kiss:
In humans, Wedekind et al. (1995) found that ovulating women preferred the scent of men who had MHC genotypes that were different than their own.
MHC is a gene complex that plays a critical role in immune responses. So when two people with different MHC genes mate, their offspring would have a more diverse immune system and a better ability to fight disease. Increasing evidence indicates that MHC genes also influences body odor and mate choice based on body odor attractiveness. Therefore, kissing may be an evolutionary behavior to literally “sniff out” the best mate.
My Observation:
When I showed Hope this study and told her that it explained my desire to kiss her, she smiled and said, “I guess opposites really do attract.” Then she put her head against my shoulder. I thought this indicated her readiness for our first kiss, but she shook her head no. It’s likely that she was at the latter part of her cycle, and her hormone levels were not at the optimal level for attraction to my MHC complex. Or maybe I’m just too opposite for her.
Chapter 30
My father and Liam are standing on the front porch when we get home from our run. I freeze at the bottom of the stairs when I see them, but Ethan breezes past me and offers each of them a bland greeting before going inside.
“How long have you two been waiting out here?” I ask them anxiously. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of exactly, but I know I’m definitely not ready for these two parts of my life to collide. I’m just getting comfortable with Liam. And as for Dad, I thought it was going to take months before I was ready to introduce him to my boyfriend. Liam hasn’t even met my mother yet, and surely she’s the one who deserves the first introduction.
“I got here five minutes ago,” Liam says. “I was about to text you.”
I let them into the living room. The warm air bites my frozen ears and makes my head ache. We pull our coats and gloves off and stomp the feeling back into our toes.
“I guess I should introduce you—”
“No need,” Dad interrupts. “We’ve been talking. Do you mind making us some tea or coffee? I’d forgotten how cold it gets up here.”
“Sure.” I cast an uneasy glance at the two of them, and head off to the kitchen. Ethan and Dad settle on the sofa next to each other, and after a moment, Liam joins me by the stove. He holds his chapped hands to the range and shivers. “God, it’s freezing out there. Sorry to just drop by without warning—”
“It’s fine,” I assure him. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Thanks.” He pulls four mugs out of the cabinet and sets them on a tray. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s taking her medicine now, but she’s had such a setback and lost so much weight that the doctors are still really vague about her discharge date. I hope they’ll let her go after this storm is over.”
He hesitates and glances over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, actually.” His eyes don’t meet mine; he’s suddenly very preoccupied with spooning large amounts of sugar into the mugs. “The storm, I mean.”
“What’s going on?”
“I really hate to ask you this—” He clears his throat, then dumps another spoonful of sugar into the mug.
I place my hand over his. “Liam, look at me. Stop with the sugar and just tell me, please.”
He smiles and his face flushes. “Rain, I need…I need somewhere to stay tonight.”
“Oh.” That was the last thing I expected him to say. “No problem,” I falter. “Really, it’s fine.”
“I wouldn’t ask normally,” he explains. “I know your mom is sick, and you’ve basically just met your dad again, and it’s a really awkward time for you. But I’m stuck. My father took the truck two days ago, so I can’t go out to Missoula to my grandmother’s. And the heater in the trai—in the house just broke. I couldn’t get anyone out to fix it, and the local hardware store is out of space heaters. I didn’t know what to do.”
“God, Liam,” I exclaim. “Of course you can stay here. That’s awful.”
“No, no it’s fine. I’ll take care of it after the storm. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Did you tell your father about the heater? It’s ten degrees outside. He can’t just leave you in a freezing house.”
“He knows.”
“He knows?”
“Yeah,” he says shortly. “He broke it.”
“Oh.” I’m too stunned to speak. The idea of a parent abandoning their kid in weather like this—with no way of getting help—is horrifying. My mom had warned me that Liam’s father wasn’t a nice guy, but this—this was criminal. “Liam, you could report him—”
“No, that’s why I didn’t want to ask for help,” he interrupts. “I know I could report him. I’ve known that for years.”
“So why don’t you? Look, both my parents are lawyers, they could advise you—”
“That’s the last thing that I want, okay? I just need a little help. For a couple of days, that’s all. Please don’t offer more than that. I don’t want it.”
The tea has finished brewing and is giving off a strong chamomile and lavender scent. I cradle my mug in my numb fingers and take a tentative sip. It’s sickeningly sweet, but I swallow it anyway. “I don’t understand. It’s neglect.”
“Yeah,” he counters. “And I’m almost seventeen. What are they going to do? Send me to live with my grandma again? She sold her house and is moving into a retirement home next month.”
“Oh.” I’m secretly relieved, even though the thought of Liam shivering in a lonely trailer is heart-wrenching. I don’t want him moving to Missoula.
“You don’t want me to go, do you?” he continues, reading my thoughts. “Because she’s the closest relative I’ve got. I have a couple of distant cousins in Salem, but I haven’t seen them in years—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. I just can’t believe he broke your heater.”
“He was pissed a
t me. And drunk. He breaks things when he’s drunk. And then he disappears for weeks. Usually he’ll leave some money as an apology. Or his pickup truck when he’s on the road. This time he didn’t.”
“God.”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to look at me like I’m some poor, abused kid. He doesn’t hit me or anything. And he’s on the road for months generally or with his girlfriend somewhere. That’s probably where he is now. Drying out. It has nothing to do with me, all right? He has nothing to do with me.”
I can’t help admiring his stubborn pride. If my parent abandoned me that way, I wouldn’t be able to brush it off so easily. I steal a guilty look at my father. His back is to me, but I can see the absorbed posture of his body as he listens to Ethan chatter about the latest documentary on ovarian diseases. Dad is nodding thoughtfully, his lips compressed, his eyes fixed on his son’s animated face. He really wants to hear what Ethan has to say, I realize. He cares about him just as much as I do.
Maybe even more than I do. I doubt I could muster up that level of interest in ovarian cysts.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell Liam. “It’ll be fun. You can get to know my father.” I pick up the tea tray and head out to the living room. “We both can.”
Chapter 31
It’s the most fun I’ve had with my family in a long time. As the wind whistles in the chimney and the darkening clouds cover our town in heavy snow, we sit on the rug, wrapped in furry sweaters, cradling mugs of steaming tea and cocoa, playing games and making jokes. I fry up a pan of gluten-free cranberry skillet cookies.
Liam slides into our family easily; I’m grateful my dad says yes when I ask if he can stay with us through the storm and I wonder, in spite of myself, how differently the evening might have been if my mother had been there in his place. Deep down, I know the answer, and it hurts that I’m secretly relieved she isn’t here. Mom would have asked Liam why he was homeless during a winter storm, would have dug to the bottom of his history, bared the embarrassing details, and then insisted on justice. I would have had to wrestle the phone from her hands to keep her from calling social services. And Mom would probably have been right.
But I’m not sure I want to be right. For now, I just want Liam to be happy.
“Who knew you could fry a cookie?” Liam remarks, taking a bite. “They’re delicious.”
“Really?” I smile, breaking off a piece. “I’m so happy you like it! You guys want another batch?”
“I am not eating that,” Ethan declares. “It looks like petrified fruitcake. And it smells like cranberries and feet.”
Liam chokes, spewing crumbs across the rug, and my father cautiously sniffs the edge of his plate.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Sorry about that. I didn’t have gluten-free cornflakes crumbs so I crushed up a bag of corn chips instead.”
“Thank God. I was wondering what that odor was,” my father says. “I thought it was me.”
“You’re inventive, Rain,” Liam asserts graciously. “No one else would have thought to do that.”
“That’s true,” Dad says. “Very resourceful.”
“Maybe,” Ethan persists. “But this cookie makes people question their hygiene. So I’d call that a failed experiment.”
“Yeah, well, my experiments are all for you,” I point out acidly. “Mom says that these recipes are good for you.”
Ethan opens his mouth to answer, but Dad cuts him off with a smile. “Okay guys. Ethan, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
“Good for me how?”
“You know, Rain,” Liam chimes in, ignoring Ethan’s protest, “your skills will be very useful when we’re abroad next year. These cakes can probably last for weeks. They’re perfect snacks for backpacking.”
“Wait, what’s happening next year?” my father asks.
It’s an awkward segue. Liam seems embarrassed when he sees me hesitate.
“Where are you going, Rain?” Ethan asks.
There’s a heavy silence. I swallow and cast a frustrated look at Liam. A moment later, the stillness is broken by the whistle of the teakettle on the stove. It’s a welcome distraction, and I rush to fuss over the brewing pot. I can’t avoid the questions forever, though; after a couple of minutes of stirring, I have no choice but to return to the living room.
“I’m sorry,” Liam stammers as I fill their mugs. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t told them.”
“Told us what?”
“There’s nothing to tell yet,” I say, settling down next to Ethan. As I cross my legs, a sharp pain shoots up my left side, cutting off my breath. I clutch my hip and exhale slowly. “I really must have sprained something pretty badly during our run.”
“Where are you going next year?” Ethan repeats.
I sigh and shift to my right. The pain subsides to a dull ache, but it continues to throb, deepening as I breathe. “I haven’t decided yet. And anyway, it’s more than a year away, but Liam was talking about maybe doing a gap year abroad together—”
“It’s a wonderful opportunity,” Liam breaks in eagerly. “It looks great on college applications. You get to work with needy communities all over the world—”
“Liam, it’s okay, you don’t have to sell it,” I say shortly. “They know it would be a good experience.”
It looks like my father is already on board. “Just let me know what you decide, Rain,” he tells me. “If it’s a question of money—”
“Thanks, Dad. But I wasn’t exactly thinking of the money, not yet…”
I was thinking about my brother, I want to add, but everyone can see that. I don’t need to finish the thought. Ethan’s expression does it for me. He doesn’t speak for a moment; he appears to be glaring at some point between the sofa and the coffee table. Then he scrambles to his feet.
“I need to study.”
“Ethan—” Dad gets up and reaches out to him, then stops, his fingers an inch away from Ethan’s shoulder. “This could be a good thing for both of you. We talked about this, remember? You two may not end up in the same college. So this will prepare you—”
“I need to study.”
“Ethan, I haven’t actually made up my mind yet—” I begin.
“I need to study!”
And then he’s gone, and the three of us are left blinking at our coffee mugs.
“I’m really sorry,” Liam says. “I thought that you’d talked to him already. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay. I probably should have told him.”
“So you’ve thought about your options after graduation?” Dad asks.
I can see the eagerness in his eyes. He’s asking about me now. This isn’t about Ethan anymore. He wants to know what I want to do.
“I’m going to get a degree in psychology,” I reply. For some reason, the statement comes out like an apology. “That’s the plan, I guess.”
“Oh.” He looks puzzled, as if I’d just declared a sudden interest in space travel. “I didn’t know you wanted to be a psychiatrist.”
“I don’t want to be a psychiatrist.” I have no idea why I said it. All I know is that it’s the first time anyone has asked me what I wanted to do. And for first time, the answer I’ve carried inside me for years doesn’t feel like the right one anymore.
“Okay,” Dad prompts me gently. “A psychologist then? School counselor?”
I look at Liam’s face, at my father’s eyes. “Maybe,” I reply softly. “That’s what I’m supposed to be good at.”
Liam shakes his head. “Supposed to be good at?”
“Because of Ethan,” I explain. “Mom’s always said that I have so much experience, that I was literally born to do this—”
“No one is born to do anything, Rain,” Dad says. “You should choose what excites you, not what you think you have to do. Would being a psychologist make you
happy?”
The truth is that I don’t know. All of this was predetermined since the day I was born—the day we were born. I’ve been carrying Ethan for so long, pulling him along with me. He’d decided my future without saying a word. State school, morning classes, our afternoon run, carefully prepared dinners, therapy sessions, bed—repeat. The same, unvarying routine stretching far off into the future. But when did I decide to become a psychologist? Whose idea was that? Why had I started memorizing that giant psych manual? Who had chosen that for me? Had it not been me after all?
“I have no idea what I want,” I say. And it feels like a relief to say it.
Dad shrugs and breaks off a piece of cookie. “That’s good. Most people don’t.”
“I’m sorry I brought up the gap year idea,” Liam says again. “I didn’t know you were still thinking about it.”
“I was thinking about it,” I tell him earnestly. “I really was. I just didn’t know how to tell my brother.”
But why had I been thinking about it? Was I just trying to make Liam happy by going along with the idea? Or was I really trying to dream big?
What if all I want is the option to dream, but I’m too scared to make it happen? What if Ethan has always been an excuse to stay on the familiar path? To never take risks?
“Do you want me to go talk to him?” Liam asks.
“No, it’s okay. He needs to be alone right now. I’ll check on him later.”
I hate to admit it, but a small part of me is glad Ethan is upset. Not because I ever want him to be hurt—not for a second. But recently I’d been scared he wouldn’t react at all if I told him I was leaving. That he didn’t need me anymore. And that, for me, would have been worse than the loss of any dream.
After an awkward silence, my father declares that he’s tired. There’s a brief discussion about where he’s staying (Mom’s bed is out of the question) and we finally settle on Dad sleeping in my room, me in Mom’s, and Liam on the living room couch. Everyone’s clothes and toothbrushes are shuffled around, and my father bids us good night before shutting the door.