Along for the Ride

by Sarah Dessen

  We were both quiet for a moment. Finally I said, ‘You can’t think like that, though. You’ll make yourself crazy.’

  He gave me a wry smile. ‘Tell me about it.’

  I started to say something, but then he was getting to his feet, picking up the tray and taking it to the kitchen. Just as he did, I heard a thump from the wall by his bed, followed by another. I stood up, walking closer, and listened again.

  ‘That’s the McConners,’ Eli said from the kitchen.

  ‘The who?’

  He came over, standing behind me. ‘The McConners. They own this house. Their son’s room is right through that wall.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  ‘He usually wakes up once or twice a night. Asks for water, you know, the whole thing.’ Eli sat down on his bed, the springs creaking beneath him. ‘If it’s really quiet, I can hear every word.’

  I sat down beside him, listening hard. But all I could make out was two voices murmuring: one high, one lower. It was kind of like Heidi’s waves, distant white noise.

  ‘I used to do that,’ Eli said. We were both whispering. ‘The whole waking up, wanting water thing, when I was a kid. I remember it.’

  ‘Not me,’ I told him. ‘My parents needed their sleep.’

  He shook his head, lying back on the bed, folding his arms over his chest. Through the wall, the negotiations continued, the higher voice rising, urgent, the lower one staying level. ‘You were always thinking of them, huh?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ I stifled a yawn, then looked at my watch. It was four thirty, about when I usually headed home. Through the wall, the voices kept going, and, still listening, I slid down next to Eli, resting my head on his chest. His T-shirt was soft beneath my head, and smelled like the detergent I knew he used at the Washroom.

  ‘It’s late,’ I said quietly. ‘He should go to sleep.’

  ‘Not always so easy.’ His voice was low, slow, too, and I felt his lips brush the top of my head, gently.

  The light was still on in Eli’s kitchen, but it became muted as I closed my eyes, still hearing those murmurings behind me. Shh, shh, everything’s all right, I was sure I heard a voice say. Or maybe it was the one in my head, my mantra. Shh, Shh. ‘It’s not your fault,’ I said to Eli, my voice sounding thick to my own ears. ‘You’re not to blame.’

  ‘Neither are you,’ he answered. Shh. Shh. It’s all right.

  It was so late. Late for children, late for anyone. I knew I should get to my feet, go down those stairs, and find my way home, but already I could feel something happening. A feeling, thick and heavy, creeping over me. It had been so long since I’d done this that for a moment a part of me was scared, wanting to fight it off, stay vigilant. But instead, just before it took me, I rolled over, pressing myself closer against him. I felt his hand rise to my head and then, I was gone.

  When I woke up the next morning, it was seven thirty and Eli was still sleeping. His arm was around my waist, his chest moving slowly up, down, up, down, beneath my cheek. I closed my eyes again, trying to drift back, but the sunlight was slanting in overhead, the day already begun.

  I eased myself away from him, getting to my feet, but then stood watching his face, relaxed and dreaming, for a few moments. I knew I should tell him good-bye, but I didn’t want to wake him. Plus, I had no idea what I could say in a note that would possibly convey how grateful I was to him for everything he’d done for me the night before. In the end, I did the closest thing I could: I refilled the coffee-maker, put fresh grounds in a new filter, and flipped the switch. It was already brewing as I slipped outside and made my way down his steps to the street.

  It was one of those gorgeous beach mornings, bright and sunny already, everything enhanced with the benefit of actual nighttime sleep. Walking the four blocks or so back home, I was more aware than ever of the salt in the air, the beauty of the rambling roses climbing along someone’s fence, even the friendliness I felt toward the bicyclist I passed, an older woman with a long braid, wearing a crazy orange jogging suit and whistling to herself. She returned my wide smile, lifting a hand to wave as I made my way up the front walk.

  I was so immersed in all this – the night, the sleep, the morning – that I didn’t even see my dad until I was about to walk right into him. But there he was, in the foyer at this early hour, already showered and dressed.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘You’re up early. Did inspiration strike or something? Ready to start another book already?’

  He glanced up the stairs. ‘Um,’ he said. ‘Not exactly. Actually I was just… I’m headed out.’

  ‘Oh.’ I stopped. ‘Where are you going? Campus?’

  A pause. Right then, in that too-long beat of silence, I got the first inkling that something was wrong. ‘No. I’m going to a hotel for a couple of nights.’ He swallowed, then looked down at his hands. His face was tired. ‘Heidi and I… we have some things to work out, and we decided this was the best thing. For now.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ Even the word sounded wrong, said aloud.

  ‘It’s only temporary.’ He took in a breath, then let it out. ‘Trust me, this is better. For the baby, for everyone. I’ll just be at the Condor; we can still see each other every day.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ I said again. Still weird.

  He bent down, picking up the bag I’d not spotted until now, which was by the stairs. ‘It’s complicated,’ he said. ‘Just give us some time. Okay?’

  I just stood there, speechless, as he walked past me to the door, pulling it open. Here I was, with finally a chance to say everything I hadn’t two years earlier, the do-over of all do-overs. I could have asked him to reconsider, to think of other options. To stay. And yet nothing came. Nothing. I just watched him go, again.

  I stood there for a long time, thinking this had to be a joke. It wasn’t until I had watched him pull out of the garage, flip down his sun visor, and drive off that I walked over and locked the door.

  When I went upstairs, Heidi’s door was closed, but as I passed Isby’s room, I heard something. Not surprisingly, at first, I assumed it was a cry. But listening another minute, I realized it wasn’t. Tentatively, I pushed open the door, peering in. She was in her bassinette, looking up at her mobile, waving her arms around. Not wailing. Not shrieking. Even though these would have been perfectly acceptable and expected any day, but especially this one. Instead, she was just murmuring, making little baby noises.

  I went closer, to the edge of her bassinette, and peered down at her. For a moment, she kept kicking, intent on the ceiling, but then she suddenly looked at me. Her face relaxed, changing entirely into something new, something amazing. A smile.

  Chapter

  THIRTEEN

  ‘I didn’t even want to call you,’ I heard Heidi say. ‘I was sure you’d just tell me you told me so.’

  For three hours I’d been up in my room, trying to fall back asleep, but with no luck. Instead, I’d just lain there, remembering it all again: waking up so happy with Eli, my walk home, and then being blindsided by my dad’s departure, take two. But of all these images, it was Isby’s smile, so sweet and unexpected, that had stuck with me the most. Whenever I closed my eyes to try and sleep, it was all I could see.

  ‘No, not really,’ Heidi continued. ‘But I wouldn’t blame you. It’s just such a mess. I still can’t believe any of this is happening.’

  I walked past the table, where she was sitting, the baby in her arms, and headed to the cupboard to get myself a mug. Outside, it was another bright and sunny day, gorgeous like all the others.

  ‘Hey,’ Heidi said suddenly, glancing at me, ‘let me call you back. No, I will. Okay, then you call me. Ten minutes. All right. Bye.’

  She hung up, and I could feel her watching me as I poured myself a cup of coffee. Finally she said, ‘So, Auden. Can you sit down a sec? I… I have to talk to you about something.’

  She sounded so sad and worried I could barely stand it. ‘It’s okay, I already know,’ I said, turning around.
‘I talked to Dad.’

  ‘Oh.’ She swallowed, looking down at the baby again. ‘Well, that’s good. What did he…’

  Isby suddenly let out a little squawk. Instead of crying, though, she just buried her face in Heidi’s chest, closing her eyes.

  ‘He said you guys had some stuff to work out,’ I said. ‘And that he was staying at the Condor for a while.’

  She nodded, her face looking pained. ‘So,’ she said, ‘are you doing okay?’

  ‘Me?’ I said. ‘I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Well, this is kind of unsettling, I’m sure,’ she said. ‘I just… you can talk to me anytime, all right? If you have questions, or concerns…’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said again. ‘Really.’

  Just then, I heard a buzzing noise: Heidi’s phone. She glanced at it, then sighed, putting it to her ear. ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘Hi, Elaine. No, no, I got your messages, I just… How are you? Right. Of course. Well, to be honest, I haven’t had much of a chance to think about the Bash yet…’

  She stood, shifting Isby in her arms, and walked over to the glass doors, still talking. I sat there, thinking of how I watched my dad driving away earlier, the way it felt like another do-over, but with the same outcome. Maybe some things could never change, or be fixed, even with time.

  A moment later, Heidi returned to the kitchen, putting her phone down on the counter. ‘That was Elaine, the chair of the Colby Visitors’ Council,’ she said in a flat voice. ‘She wants a theme for the Beach Bash, and she wants it now.’

  ‘The Beach Bash?’ I said.

  ‘It’s this annual event we have at the end of every summer,’ she explained, sitting down again. ‘It’s in the hall on the boardwalk. We sell tickets, all the merchants participate, it’s the last big thing of the summer. And for some reason, I always volunteer to organize it.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘It’s total masochism.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, last year, I did a pirate theme, which was kind of cute. The year before, we did a whole Renaissance thing. But this year… I mean, what am I going to do? I’m not exactly in a festive place right now.’

  I watched her as she ran a hand over Isby’s cheek, then tucked the blanket more tightly around her. ‘You’ll think of something.’

  Just then, her phone rang again. She picked it up, settling it between her ear and shoulder. ‘Hi, Morgan. No, it’s fine. I was just talking to Elaine.’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘I know. And I appreciate that. But it’s just… I can’t believe this, you know? Last year at this time, all I wanted was for Robert and me to get pregnant, and now…’

  She gulped, then moved a hand to cover her face, even as I heard whoever was on the other end start talking, their voice low and soothing. I pushed out my chair, then put my cup in the sink as once again, I found myself on the outside, watching something I’d never really known and didn’t understand. Most perplexing of all, though, was the tightness of my own throat and the sudden lump I felt there. I pushed back my chair, slipping out of the room, into the foyer, thinking again of my dad walking out that same door, bag in hand. It was terrible and awful when someone left you. You could move on, do the best you could, but like Eli had said, an ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.

  By the time I left the house two hours later, Heidi and the baby were both sleeping. The house seemed almost peaceful, if you didn’t know better.

  I, however, felt entirely unsettled, which made no sense, because first, Heidi was not my mother, and second, when this had happened with my parents, years earlier, I’d been just fine. Sure, I was disappointed and a little sad, but from what I remembered, I’d adapted pretty quickly to the new arrangements. Aside from the whole not-sleeping thing, of course, but that had been going on already. What I didn’t remember was the weird, panicky feeling, now still lingering, that had come over me watching my dad drive away from the house earlier. It was the way I usually felt around midnight, knowing that so much of the night was still to come and I had to find a way to fill it, the certainty of time passing so slowly until daylight.

  Thank God I had work to do. I’d actually never been so happy to walk into Clementine’s, which was bustling with customers in a late afternoon rush. Maggie, consulting with a mother and daughter on some jean shorts, waved as I passed, grabbing the receipts and invoices on my way to the office. Once inside, I shut the door, flicked on the light, and prepared myself to buckle down into the numbers until closing. I’d just managed to lose myself in the check register when my phone rang.

  MOM, the caller ID said. I watched the screen, the little phone jumping up and down as it logged one ring, then another. For a moment, I considered answering and telling her everything. Then, just as quickly, I realized that this was the worst possible idea ever. It would be like Christmas and her birthday rolled into one, the satisfaction she’d get, and I just couldn’t take her smugness. And besides, she’d hung up on me the day before, making it more than clear that she didn’t want to know me. Now it was my right to distance myself, as long as I wanted.

  For the next two hours, I immersed myself in Heidi’s books, more grateful than ever for the dependability and static nature of numbers and calculations. When I finished the register and the payroll, I turned my attention to the desk, which had been cluttered since the day I started. I could almost feel my blood pressure dropping, bit by bit, as I organized Heidi’s pens, throwing out the ones that didn’t work and making sure the rest had caps snugly on and were all facing upright in the pink mug where they lived. Then I moved on to the top drawer, sorting little scraps of paper, stacking random business cards into neat piles, and collecting all the paper clips into an empty Band-Aid box I found lying nearby. I was just about to tackle the next one, when there was a tap on the door and Maggie stuck her head in.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Esther’s going to Beach Beans, you want anything?’

  I reached into my pocket, pulling out my wallet. ‘Large triple-shot mocha.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Wow. You pulling an all-nighter, or something?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m just… kind of tired.’

  She nodded, running a hand through her hair. ‘I hear you. My mom started in on me first thing this morning about my roommate forms. Apparently she wants me to fast track my pick because she’s worried otherwise we won’t have enough time to properly coordinate our linens. As if anyone else cares about that.’

  I had a flash of my own mother, her clipped tone when I dared to question her choice of the Pembleton Program. ‘That’s what she’s worried about?’

  ‘She’s worried about everything,’ Maggie said, flipping her hand. ‘In her mind, if I don’t have the perfect college experience, it will be an unparalleled tragedy.’

  ‘That’s not such a bad thing, though,’ I said, ‘is it?’

  She sighed. ‘You don’t know my mother. I’m never, you know, enough for her.’

  ‘Enough?’

  ‘Girly enough,’ she explained, ‘because I was so into dirt bikes. Social enough, because I only had one boyfriend all through high school and didn’t “play the field”. Now I’m not embracing college enough. And it hasn’t even started yet!’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ I said. ‘My mom’s riding me about the roommate thing, too. Except she wants me to enroll in some program where you do nothing but study twenty-four/seven and fun is not allowed under any circumstances.’

  ‘Really?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I should sign up for that. My mom would lose her mind.’

  I smiled. Then the front door chime sounded, and she looked down at the money in her hand. ‘Large triple-shot mocha,’ she said. I nodded. ‘I’ll let Esther know.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  The door shut back with a click, and I pulled open the second desk drawer. Inside was a stack of old checkbook registers, topped with a couple of yellow legal
pads, covered with scribbles. As I pulled them out, I glanced at the writing, which was clearly Heidi’s. There were lists for inventory, various phone numbers, and a few pages in, this:

  Caroline Isabel West

  Isabel Caroline West

  Emily Caroline West

  Ainsley Isabel West

  Each was written carefully: you could almost feel her deliberation as she added them, one by one. I thought back to the day she’d admitted her dislike of the name Thisbe, and how I – and my mother – had judged her for giving in to it anyway. My father was selfish. He got what he wanted, and even then, it wasn’t enough.

  I closed the pad, pushing it aside and digging down deeper into the drawer. There were various invoices, which I set aside to file properly, a flyer for the previous year’s Annual Colby Beach Bash – Ahoy, Mateys! – and, at the very bottom, a stack of pictures. Here was Heidi, with a paintbrush dabbed with pink paint, standing with a wide smile in front of a white wall. Heidi again, posing before the front door, the CLEMENTINE’S sign arcing over her head. And finally, at the very bottom, a shot of her with my dad. They were on the boardwalk, her in a white dress, her belly round and full, him with his arm around her. The date stamp was early May, just a few weeks before Isby was born.

  ‘Auden?’

  I jumped. Somehow Esther had managed to slip in the door right behind me. ‘Oh,’ I said, looking down at the drawer, the contents spread across the desk, ‘I was just –’

  ‘Your caffeine,’ she said. She was holding out the cup to me when suddenly, something blurred past behind her. Something red, which then crashed against the end of the hallway with a loud, bouncy bang.

  ‘Hey!’ Esther yelled out the door. ‘What the hell was that?’