I Wanna Be Where You Are

by Kristina Forest

  “Damn, Geezer. Don’t start liking her better than me,” Eli says, coming to stand at my window. He looks at me. “If your mom locks you up in your room, I’ll come save you.”

  “How will you do that?”

  His wolfish grin makes a reappearance. “It’ll be a surprise.”

  I smile and shake my head. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

  “You’ll like it. I promise.”

  He bends down, and with his index finger, he tilts my chin up and kisses me. For a brief second, I forget how much trouble I’m in, and that Mom is waiting for me at home. I forget that I’ll have to drive on the highway for a third of a day.

  When he pulls away, it feels too soon.

  “Remember, this all happened for a reason,” he says. “I’ll see you Sunday for Easter dinner.”

  I appreciate how he says it with such conviction, like there isn’t a chance that the only way I’ll see him Sunday is if I’m looking at him through my window.

  I know I’m basically dead meat, but I don’t regret anything about the past few days. Too many good things have happened for me not to feel the least bit hopeful.

  So I repeat, “See you Sunday.”

  Chapter 26

  Lost and Found

  My mom is cautious because, according to her, my dad was not.

  Well, that’s not the right place to start their story.

  My mom was always cautious, even before they met. That’s why she became a nurse. Cautious people work well in hospitals.

  She met my dad during a completely normal overnight shift. He’d almost cut off the tip of his finger while chopping onions. She asked if he’d been drinking at the time, and he told her no. He simply got distracted by the television and wasn’t paying attention. He told her he was a car salesman. It explained why he was an easy talker. He had a nice smile. She liked him almost immediately.

  While my mom assessed his wound, they talked about where they were from, their favorite music and movies, places they’d like to see. My dad hadn’t traveled much yet, but he wanted to see the world. Jokingly, he’d asked if my mom would join him. She said no, she barely even knew him. But she was surprised by how much she wanted to say yes.

  Later, in the early morning hours, after my dad received his stitches and my mom’s shift ended, my dad waited for her in the lobby. He asked if she’d like to come over and he’d cook her breakfast as a way to thank her. She agreed, but only if she could do the chopping. She soon learned that my dad was prone to accidents. He was constantly bumping into walls, or tripping and falling. He was excitable and easily distracted. Mom was always there to bandage him up. Eventually, I was born, and my dad tried to be more cautious for my sake. Mom says he was careful never to drop me.

  The night my dad died, he’d stayed late at work and he was eager to get home. He stopped at an intersection, and when he had the green light, he hit the gas. He didn’t see the truck coming. It had run a red light, right into the driver’s side. The police later told my mom that my dad was killed on impact.

  All she had left was me, a three-year-old who hadn’t even had the chance to really know her father, and who couldn’t sleep at night anymore. Between working and raising me alone, her hands were full. Ms. Linda urged her to sign me up for ballet to give herself a break.

  The first time I performed in front of a crowd I was a five-year-old Tiny Tot. We wore flower costumes and danced to “It Might as Well Be Spring” at the annual spring fair on South Street. I remember spotting Mom in the crowd and seeing the proud smile on her face. I felt like I’d accomplished something for those few minutes. She didn’t smile very often.

  After the performance, she wanted to take me home, but I begged her to walk with me around the fair. She agreed to stay, but only for a little bit. We strolled hand in hand until Mom paused in front of a jewelry stand. While she browsed, I noticed a clown making balloon animals a few feet away. A group of children surrounded him. I wandered closer, fascinated as he looped and tied a butterfly’s wings.

  When I turned back, Mom wasn’t behind me anymore. I looked up at the faces above me and didn’t recognize anyone.

  There is nothing worse than realizing that you’re lost. I burst into tears. A woman paused in front of me and asked what was wrong. I tried to tell her that I was looking for my mom, but I couldn’t stop crying.

  Then I heard Mom calling me. She pushed her way through the crowd and gathered me into her arms. Her hands were shaking as she rubbed my back. She’d been just as afraid as me. That was the first time that I’d ever felt guilty.

  “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she whispered, holding me tighter. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  Chapter 27

  Now or Never

  The drive home is exhausting, but I’m less afraid of the road than I thought I’d be. Maybe it’s because the road will be nothing compared to my confrontation with Mom. I put on a special Beyoncé playlist to help me feel strong, but it only makes me think that when Beyoncé was my age, she was busy touring the world, doing exactly what she loved.

  I pull over at a rest stop in Maryland to get gas and call Mom to let her know where I am. She’s still just as angry as she was this morning. Curtly, she tells me to drive safely and then hangs up. I was about to open a bag of chips, but her tone makes me lose my appetite.

  I text Eli, In Maryland. How are things with your dad?

  He texts back, glad you’re safe. we’re still touring UNC tomorrow, so not making a lot of progress. he did say he liked my art tho

  That’s a start.

  Geezer misses you and I guess I do too

  I miss you too, I guess. I miss Geezer more.

  That’s messed up

  I’m just being honest.

  We text back and forth for a little before I take a quick power nap and get back on the road.

  It’s a little after nine p.m. when I finally reach New Jersey. My hearts pounds as I enter my neighborhood and turn onto my street. I slow to a creep as I pull into the driveway. The light is on in the living room.

  As I walk toward the door, I try to rehearse what I’ll say to Mom.

  Mom, I know you’re upset, but I went to North Carolina for a good reason. I auditioned for Avery Johnson’s conservatory, and he talked to me! You should be proud of me!

  Mom, I know I lied to you. But this is the first time I’ve lied to you my whole life. Can you let this one go?

  Mom, just tell me how long you’re going to ground me for.

  I have no idea what I’ll say. I’m not the five-year-old who got lost at a fair. I’m seventeen, and I did this on my own. There will be no easy forgiveness.

  I take a deep breath and walk through the door. The hallway is empty. For some reason, I expected Mom to be waiting for me there. I keep walking and turn into the living room. Jean-Marc is snoring on the couch with a jug of water and a box of saltine crackers on the coffee table in front of him. I drop my bag at my feet, and he stirs awake. He blinks at me a few times, then his eyes get wide. He whispers, “You are in trouble, missy.”

  “Chloe, come in here!” Mom yells from the kitchen.

  I whip around toward the sound of her voice and slowly make my way to her.

  Mom is sitting at the table, holding an empty tea mug. Her posture is rigid, and her mouth is set in a thin line. But she got a tan. Vacation must have been good to her in some way. She doesn’t give me a chance to ask if this is true.

  “Do you know how worried I was about you?” she says, her voice rising immediately. “Do you know how terrified I was when I found out you weren’t at Reina’s house? I’m trying to wrap my mind around why you’d drive all the way to North Carolina with Eli.” She shakes her head. “What you did was so stupid.”

  “Mom—”

  “And Linda had no idea you were with Eli, by the way. I guess he must have lied to her, too. Was that all a part of your spring break plan?” she asks. “Lie to your parents so you can go on a little road tr
ip?” She pauses and squints at me. “Is something going on between you two that I never knew about?”

  “No!” Heat creeps up my neck and spreads across my cheeks. “That’s not why we went.”

  “Then tell me why.”

  It’s now or never. I take a deep breath and start from the beginning with my original plan to audition in D.C. By the time I’m finished, Mom’s arms, which were crossed, have fallen to her sides. She stares at me, eyes wide. Then she scrunches up her face, like she’s trying to understand what I’ve said.

  “You auditioned?” she asks, blinking.

  “Yes, Mom. I had to.” I cringe at the desperation in my voice. “I swear I was going to tell you everything if I got into the conservatory. I hate that you had to find out like this.”

  Her confused expression morphs into fury. “You knew how I felt about you auditioning. I can’t believe you went behind my back and did it anyway. And on top of that you got into an accident! Why would you even think to let Eli drive your car? Lord knows that boy is always up to no good, Chloe.”

  I start to defend him, but I know now isn’t the time.

  Her teakettle whistles, and we both jump. She walks to the stove and pours the hot water into her mug. With her back to me, she says, “You’re not going to that conservatory if you’re accepted.”

  Her words are a punch to the gut.

  “Mom, you know how important this is to me,” I say. “I didn’t train so many years just to throw it all away.”

  “Nobody says you have to throw it away.”

  “I won’t be happy staying in New Jersey or going to college and taking dance classes on the side. You know that isn’t what I want. New York is the best place to be for my career.”

  She glances back at me and shakes her head. “I’m not going to keep going back and forth with you. I said no.”

  This isn’t even about whether or not she’ll let me go to the conservatory anymore.

  It’s about her blatantly refusing to support my dream.

  She can’t do this to me. She can’t.

  “You can’t keep me here!” I hear myself shout.

  She spins around and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. I guess I must have, because I keep going.

  “You have this ridiculous idea that something bad will happen to me because of what happened to my dad, but that doesn’t make any sense and it’s not fair! I’ll be eighteen by the time I graduate, and, with or without the conservatory or your permission, I’ll move to New York City and you won’t be able to stop me.”

  She blinks and opens her mouth, but no words come out. A distant part of me feels bad about bringing up my dad this way, but I can’t make myself apologize, and I can’t hold back any of my anger.

  “And why didn’t you tell me that Eli came to see me after my surgery?” I ask. “He wanted to apologize, and you turned him away. I never even knew.”

  She stares at me for a second, holding her steaming tea mug in silence. When she finally speaks, her voice is level. “All I know is that Eli was supposed to take you to a dance, and the next time I saw you, you had a broken ankle and he was nowhere to be found. And, please, he only lives across the street. What stopped him from coming back more than once to see you?” She pauses like she wants me to answer. When I don’t, she continues. “And yes, Chloe, by the time you graduate, you will be an adult with the right to do whatever you please, but right now you are still my responsibility, and I say that you’re not going to this conservatory, and that’s final.”

  My anger recedes to make room for my heartbreak. “Mom, please—”

  “And give me your car keys,” she says, cutting me off. “You’re grounded.”

  Wordlessly, I hand them over. I’m fuming, miserable, and exhausted all at once. After everything, I can’t believe that this is happening.

  She puts my keys in her pocket.

  “I’m going to sleep,” she says. “You should, too. You’ve had a long drive.”

  I step aside as she passes me. She walks upstairs and minutes later I hear her bedroom door open and close.

  I stand in the kitchen, shaking. I swipe at the tears falling down my cheeks and walk into the living room to get my duffel bag. Jean-Marc is wide awake now, munching on his crackers. He takes one look at me and slides over to make room on the couch. When I sit down, he holds out his sleeve of crackers, and I take some. I realize I haven’t eaten anything in hours, and I’m starving.

  After a few silent minutes of me wiping away my tears, Jean-Marc says, “Did you have fun at least?”

  I check over my shoulder to make sure Mom isn’t around. “Yes.”

  His booming laugh fills the entire room.

  “I’m sorry you got sick,” I say.

  “Well, now I know not to eat shellfish on vacation.” He smiles softly. “Don’t worry about your mom. She’ll come around.”

  His sympathy only makes me cry harder.

  “Aww, come on now. No tears.” He hugs me with one arm and offers another cracker. “She loves you. She’s angry because she was afraid. Just give her some time.”

  I wish I could believe him.

  Through tears, I say, “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 28

  Quarantined

  FRIDAY

  Last night I dreamt of nothing because I didn’t sleep. I kept thinking about how hopeful I felt after I auditioned. My world was large and full of possibility. Now it’s tiny again, so small you’d need a microscope to see it. Why did I ever think I could convince Mom to let me go to the conservatory? I was so delusional. I’ve been crying so much my face is swollen.

  The only good thing is Mom didn’t take my phone. I guess she doesn’t have enough experience grounding me to know that’s what most parents do. I called Eli last night to tell him what happened, but he didn’t answer. A little while later, I texted him and he never responded.

  I call Reina first thing in the morning to check in on her. I hope she’s not in as much trouble as me.

  “Reina can’t talk right now,” Mr. Acosta says, answering Reina’s phone. “She’s grounded. Call back in two weeks.”

  Well, that makes two of us.

  I quarantine myself to my room all morning and afternoon. I can hear Mom moving around, making meals, watching television, but I stay put. I only leave to go to the bathroom. Thank goodness for the snacks Mr. Greene gave me yesterday. Otherwise, I’d starve.

  Then it’s almost three p.m. Time for ballet. Usually, I drive myself to the dance studio right after school, but I’m grounded and can’t drive my own car. I brace myself as I walk down the hall to Mom’s room. She’s sitting on her bed with her laptop perched on her lap. She’s clicking through vacation photos. I see her lying on the beach and standing on the deck of the cruise ship. In each picture she looks so happy and relaxed. I can’t remember the last time I saw her look like that. How awful it must have been to leave paradise and come home to find your daughter gone.

  How awful it is to be the one who’s grounded.

  “Mom, I need a ride to ballet,” I say.

  She startles and turns to face me. She quickly closes her laptop. “I can take you, but I picked up a late shift at the hospital. Jean-Marc can bring you home.”

  I stand there awkwardly, silently fuming. “Okay, thanks.”

  The drive to Philly is tense. I can’t remember the last time I was angry like this at Mom. I can’t remember the last time she was angry with me. Stevie Wonder plays on the radio, and Mom doesn’t even hum along, even though she loves his music.

  I want to apologize for bringing up my dad in our argument last night, but I can’t. I meant what I said, and apologizing would be like admitting defeat.

  When Mom finally pulls into the dance studio parking lot, I can’t get out of the car soon enough.

  “Jean-Marc will pick you up and take you straight home,” she says. “You aren’t allowed to go anywhere else. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.�
� She looks like she wants to say something else, but she rolls up her window and drives away.

  I stare at the studio building and fight to remind myself why I’m here: I love ballet. It means everything to me.

  But having Mom’s support means everything to me, too, and I don’t have it.

  * * *

  I try to get out of my own head during class, but it’s hard. With each turn and combination, I catch glimpses of my disappointment in the mirror. After class ends, I take an unnecessarily long time to untie my pointe shoes. Jean-Marc is in the parking lot, waiting to take me home, and once I get there, I won’t be able to see the outside world again. I’m milking this time for all it’s worth.

  I’m slowly putting my pointe shoes in my bag when Miss Dana walks over to me.

  “Where’ve you been all week?” she asks. “I thought you might be sick.”

  I look up at her. “I wasn’t sick,” I say.

  She waits for further explanation.

  I contemplate if it’s worth telling her where I’ve really been, what I’ve done. The story doesn’t have a happy ending. But Miss Dana is the one who encouraged me to audition in the first place. I owe it to her. So, I tell her everything. Well, the parts that matter. I leave out all the details about Eli and me.

  “I knew something was different about you,” Miss Dana says once I finish. “When you walked into the room today, you held your head up high and you looked ready. I haven’t seen you look like that in a long time.”

  “Really?” I sit up straighter.

  “Yeah, you used to have this confidence about you, but after you got hurt, you lost it a little,” she says. “But today it’s back, and it’s stronger than before. I’m not happy that you lied to your mom, but I’m proud of you for auditioning. You should be proud of yourself. too.”

  “I am,” I say, truly meaning it.

  On the ride home, Jean-Marc is his usual chipper self. He tries to make small talk and offers to take me for ice cream. Usually, I’d jump at the chance, but I don’t have the appetite.