He tipped his hat up and sighed.
“C’mon. You have half an hour. I’ll eat fast.”
I shrugged. I was usually a little late anyway and I was hungry.
“All right, but let’s get going.”
I wrapped my arm in his as we walked down the hall, past the girls and whispers. Jesse was the only school friend I had left these days, but that was okay.
Snow covered the streets and the cars in the parking lot. Everything was bright white. The weatherman had been right for once.
“Good ‘boarding weather,” he said as he got into my Jeep. “Maybe we should ditch school tomorrow and head up to the mountain.”
“It’s not even open yet,” I said. It was too early to even think about snowboarding up at Mount Bachelor. “There are still some leaves on the trees!”
“Oh, we could find our own hills. Think out of the box,” he said.
“All right, maybe,” I said.
He fiddled with the radio and found Metallica and blasted it. Jesse loved heavy metal. He got that from his dad, who owned a garage at the edge of town and listened to that music as he fixed Harleys. Jesse worked with him in the summers and after school sometimes.
I put the Jeep into four-wheel drive and made it out of the parking lot.
“How you feeling today, anyway?” he asked as I slowly drove on the slick streets. Driving in the snow always made me a little nervous.
“Good, why?” I asked.
“I don’t know. You look kinda pale and sad,” he said, doing a Lars Ulrich drum solo with his hands on his long, skinny legs.
“I’m fine,” I said. We pulled into the lot.
A warm fire was raging in the center of Pilot Butte Burgers. There were already kids from school at some of the tables. I waved as I walked by and grabbed a booth close to the flames while Jesse ordered.
“You want to sit with us?” Tina asked.
“No, thanks. We’re good over here.”
She shrugged. Jesse soon followed and sat down with his food.
“You sure you don’t want anything?” he said.
“Just your fries,” I said. “As usual.”
We talked about basketball for a while, about how the team was looking this year. Jesse was a starting forward.
I reached for a fry as he dug into his burger. Amanda and her friends had come in, scanning the tables as they waited in line. Our eyes met briefly and she ignored me.
“Don’t worry so much about them,” Jesse said. He sponged a gob of ketchup off his face with a napkin.
“I know,” I said, trying to push the girls out of my mind. I took a sip from his Coke.
I was wishing he could eat a little bit faster, even though he was the fastest eater I had ever known. I was ready to leave.
“C’mon, tell me about Kate and the good doctor. Are they together yet?”
“I wish,” I said. “Matt has been over five times this week. He leaves his paintings for us. It’s a form of payment, I guess.”
Jesse laughed.
I didn’t want to talk about Matt, but I couldn’t stand hearing the laughter that was coming from Amanda and her group.
“He’s nice enough and all, but has a strange aversion to taking care of himself. Like bathing or paying rent. I’m pretty sure he’s just living with different friends all week.”
“He’s still young, he has time to pull it together,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, I guess. But Kate’s kind of young too to be supporting a boyfriend. She already has me. And besides, she could have anybody. Why is she settling for him?”
“You mean, why isn’t she going for your doctor?” he said.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Who knows the ways of love, Miss Abigail?” he said. “For example, my poor little heart pitter patters loudly for Chloe over there in the corner. It’s not logical. She’s not the prettiest or the smartest girl, but there you go.”
Chloe was both pretty and smart. Jesse was just full of it sometimes. Supposedly, he’s had a huge crush on her since middle school, but not once have I seen him talk to her. And Jesse, aka Mister Popular, was cocky. If he were really interested, he’d be over there, full charm on. It was more that he liked to talk about her.
“How do you eat all that anyway?” I asked grabbing another fry.
He was nearly finished, stuffing the last bit in his mouth as he threw his napkin in the middle of the empty plate.
Jesse had taken to getting the Monster Burger since he started his senior year, which was usually ordered by football linebackers, tourists, or groups who would split it. It had three times the meat as a normal hamburger. His appetite was ferocious. I had no idea how he finished them, but he did every single time.
“This is like my dinner too,” he said.
“Oh, right,” I said.
He smiled.
“Come on,” he said, standing up. “I promised to get you to your shrink on time. Let’s go.”
Jesse led us past all the groups of kids and Amanda pretended not to see me. Big flakes were falling now and the city had disappeared in a low, white fog as we drove.
“So what about tomorrow?” Jesse said as we pulled up to his house.
“Sounds fun, but I’m gonna pass. I would like to at least get C’s in my classes this semester.”
I wasn’t even sure why. It didn’t seem to matter how much I read, I blew most of my tests.
“All right, but if you don’t see me around, you know where I am.”
“Have fun,” I said.
“Thanks for the burger,” he said as he slammed the door and walked away.
I had made a mistake with Jesse. The summer before the accident we were sitting on the soccer field at midnight, studying the constellations and planets, and Jesse had leaned over and kissed me and told me that he loved me. A lot of things had been erased from my memory after my accident, but that one terrible scene remains, strong as jasmine. I wished I could erase it, wished it had never happened. At the time I had fallen for Conner and told Jesse I didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him.
The second I told him, his face fell thirty stories in the soft moonlight and I immediately wanted to take back my words. There were a lot of awful things I could do in the world, but the absolute worst thing was hurting Jesse.
The rejection lingered between us for weeks, and I knew that it would always be part of us now. It hurt to think about it. Conner turned out to be a fool, and now my feelings for Jesse were changing. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and that kiss. Couldn’t get his smile out of my mind sometimes.
But it was too late.
I drove over to Dr. Krowe’s office and parked. A fierce wind blew into me as I slowly made my way into the building.
I sighed and paused before pushing open the door. I hated Thursdays.
CHAPTER 4
I was a few minutes late.
Dr. Krowe liked to remind me that when I showed up late, I was acting in a passive aggressive pattern and it was unhealthy.
“Hello Abby,” Dr. Krowe said, giving me a quick nod before closing the door behind me.
“Hi, sorry I’m late,” I said. “I go slow in the snow.”
He smiled and I followed him over to the two large leather chairs that faced each other. I sat down, letting my backpack slip off my shoulder to the floor.
“Crazy weather out there,” he said. We stared a moment through the large window. His office overlooked a forested walking trail and the scene was like a Robert Frost poem, full of snowy woods and promises.
“Kind of early for all this, don’t you think?” he said.
“Yeah and it’s supposed to snow through the weekend,” I said. “That’s Kate’s official report, anyway.”
He pulled out his pad and pen and adjusted his glasses. When he crossed his legs, I noticed he was wearing argyle socks.
“So, how has your week been going?” he asked, his penetrating gray eyes probing mine.
“Good,” I sa
id. I usually tried to focus on the kids and teachers at school during these sessions. That way there was something to talk about.
“Tutors helping?”
“I guess. I don’t know,” I said.
“What about your friends?” he said.
He flipped his notepad back a few pages, the sharp sound cutting through the air. He tapped his pen on top of some words he had found.
“Fine,” I said. “All one of them.”
“Jesse?” he asked.
I smiled and nodded.
“I see,” he said, as the pen moved across the paper. “So your old friendships with the girls on the team and in your classes haven’t gotten any better?”
“Still the same,” I said.
“How are you feeling about soccer? That was a huge part of your life. You had a few colleges interested before your accident. That must be hard to deal with.”
I shrugged, trying to hold steady. It hurt. It hurt a lot sometimes, but I didn’t want to talk about it.
“It must be stressful not being able to play like you used to. You’ve talked a little bit about how your teammates treat you.”
“They don’t treat me bad or anything,” I said.
“But it’s different.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s more like I’m just not there.”
I was talking too much.
“That must be frustrating.”
I paused.
“Yeah,” I said, finally. I looked at my watch. I always was sure to wear one because Dr. Krowe never had a clock that I could see during these visits. There was still way too much time left.
“Have you thought about quitting the team?”
My heart sunk.
“I’m not ready to do that.”
He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his sweater.
“Abby, I’m not saying you won’t ever play again. But maybe you could give yourself a break this year. Every time you show up there, on the field, at a game on the bench, at practice, it reminds you of who you used to be. And every one of your teammates, looking at you in that way, reminds you of that too. Taking a break isn’t giving up. It’s just taking a break. I think you could use that.”
I sighed. He was probably right but I wasn’t ready to quit soccer. Besides, it was a short season.
“How’s that other friend of yours?”
“Amanda? A super bitch, as always,” I said. I was surprised how forthcoming I was about her. But it was true.
He wrote that down.
“And Jesse?” he said.
“He’s awesome,” I said.
We talked a little more about Jesse playing basketball. I felt better talking about him, and although I knew I was going on way too much, I didn’t like discussing soccer and had to kill some time. Of course I didn’t mention my changing feelings for him. I would have to think that through on my own.
I glanced at my watch and reached for my backpack.
“You still have some time. You were late and I don’t have another appointment.”
“Thanks, but I better be getting home,” I said, staring out the window.
“Yeah, you’re right. Be careful out there, Abby,” he said, folding over the notepad. “And remember you can call at any time. I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks, Dr. Krowe,” I said over my shoulder.
The cold air felt good on my face as I stepped outside into the storm.
CHAPTER 5
When I got home I was surprised to find Kate sitting on the sofa, sipping tea and watching the news.
“Hey, sis,” she said as I closed the door.
“Hey,” I said, taking off my coat and boots. “What are you doing home so soon?”
“Oh, I filed my story early and thought I would have a quiet night here. I already ordered the pizza from Mondo.” This didn’t sound like Kate at all. “How was school?”
“Fine,” I said.
“And Doc Krowe?” she asked, looking over. “Do you think that he’s helping any?”
I nodded and sat in the recliner. It felt good to be home, and I was glad Kate was here and that the heater was blasting.
“Hey, whatever happened with that dead body from the other night?” I asked. I had meant to follow up on it but she hadn’t been home much.
“Oh, that. Officially, it’s been ruled a suicide. He was a homeless guy and they found him in the river not far from the shops. His friends said he couldn’t swim and had been depressed lately, so the police think he killed himself. But I’m not so sure,” she said.
“How come you’re not so sure?” I asked.
“You sound like my editor,” she said, smiling. “I don’t know. A hunch I guess.”
If Kate had a hunch she was probably right.
“Nobody really cares about him, though. Lieutenant Sullivan actually told me not to shed a tear, that the old guy would have probably died soon anyway given his chosen lifestyle and the weather conditions.”
“Wow,” I said.
“There’s a lot of animosity in this town towards the homeless lately,” she said. “People are tired of seeing them in front of stores with cardboard signs.”
The doorbell rang and Kate got up and answered it. I changed quickly into some sweats and when I came back, I saw the steaming boxes of pizza and Matt hovering around the table. No doubt he had followed the delivery guy over in hot pursuit.
“Hey, Abby!” Matt said, serving up slices. “What can I get you? Pepperoni or pepperoni?”
We sat jamming thick, gooey slices into our mouths, listening to the news, and making fun of the foolish anchors. Sometimes watching the local news station reminded me of how small this town really was. They tripped over their words, smiled as they reported on deaths and accidents, and occasionally broke into uncontrollable giggles that forced them to go to commercial. I didn’t really care, but every time I watched the broadcast I could see why Kate wanted out.
CHAPTER 6
I’ve had the same dream, over and over, since the accident.
I’m under water. And in the beginning, I’m not panicking. I’m calm, floating down, down, down to the bottom, watching zillions of tiny water bubbles fly up around me.
And then it sets in. Terror rips through me, strong and sudden. I hold my breath and try to swim upwards, but something has a hold of me, keeps pulling me down into the darkness below. It won’t let me go. It has a firm grip around my ankles and I can’t break loose, can’t get free. The prayers I learned as a child flood my mind. It won’t release me and keeps pulling me under, down into nothingness.
But tonight in the dream, there is someone else with me. We face each other in the water, both of us sinking. He doesn’t see me. He is old, terrified and confused, scraggly and beaten. He has a large tattoo that wraps around his neck.
The dream always ends the same. I have to breathe. I have to take a breath. One deep, watery breath before everything goes black.
CHAPTER 7
I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding hard in my chest. The dream was short, but horrible. My head ached, a steady rhythm bouncing off the sides of my skull.
“Kate,” I said, stumbling into her room. It was late. She turned on the lamp and sat up.
“What is it?”
“My head.”
She pulled me on the bed and the room started spinning.
“Come on, I’m taking you in. You don’t look good.”
We made our way to her Subaru. Lights seared through my eyes as we drove in the night. My stomach ached too, and I tried hard to not throw up in the car.
Everything faded for a while, but soon, it was like old times: waking up in the whiteness of the emergency room, Kate by my side, and Dr. Mortimer hovering above. My head wasn’t throbbing anymore and my stomach had settled.
“How long have we been here?” I asked.
She was smiling, giddy almost, and I saw her eyes were shiny. She had been crying.
“About two hours,” she s
aid.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Mortimer asked.
“Much better. My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“You had a pretty bad migraine. I gave you a shot and it should hold for a while,” he said. “And I gave Kate some pills in case you have another one. The minute you feel like it’s coming, you need to take a pill and it will subside.”
“Thanks.”
“We took some blood and everything else looks fine,” he said, looking at my eyes with his penlight. “I don’t think it’s anything more serious than a migraine.”
“So I can go home?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Get some sleep, Abby. I’ll be consulting with your regular doctor. She may want you to do some more tests. We’ll talk about that later.”
I stood up. I was a little weak, but was able to walk.
“Thanks, Dr. Mortimer,” I said.
“Keep an eye on her,” he said to Kate.
“Thanks, Doc,” she said as she grabbed my arm. “Hey, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“Oh, my brother is in town,” he said. “I’m trying to talk him out of cooking.”
“Why don’t you guys come over for dinner? Or at the very least for a drink. We’d love to have you. A few other people from the newsroom are coming and it should be pretty fun.”
“Well, thank you,” he said. I could tell he was happy. “Sure. Yes. We’d love to. Thank you.”
We were quiet as we walked. Kate guided me through the double doors out into the parking lot, the frozen air hitting us with a thud as we navigated over ice to the car.
“Gotta stop doing that to me,” she said, forcing a smile. “Abby, I can’t take much more of this stupid hospital.”
I smiled but I saw how serious she was and knew I had shaken her up. Kate was the one who had it the hardest. First mom died five years ago, then my accident last year. She was too young for this kind of stuff and she wore it on her face sometimes. This was one of those times.
“Sorry,” I said, and really meant it.
Tears spilled from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. She hugged me hard.
44 Page 2