We kept putting things off for when Sara felt better, for when things improved. We’d have a picnic in the backyard and we had to go to the mall so she could finally get her ears pierced. There were still so many memories to be made. There were pictures that needed to be taken and printed and hung up.
“I think we might have some chocolate chips left,” I said, turning to her.
“For the cookies?” She smiled, and the dimple appeared in her right cheek.
“For the cookies,” I repeated, then squeezed her feet under the blanket. “Just give me a minute to check.”
9
Monday, last period. There was only one minute left and Tyler was next door, in American History, a single wall separating us. If the timing worked out right we’d run into each other after class, but that meant something different now. We’d only spoken for a few minutes in band, and he hadn’t stopped by my locker the entire day. When we passed each other after third period, he just waved.
A wave.
Like I was some sophomore hall monitor.
It was possible he’d heard about Patrick Kramer. People had seen us talking at Jen’s party, and if Amber and Kristen knew the rumor about the Spring Formal invite, it may have gotten back to Ty, too. Maybe I should’ve just told him I liked him, declared it in some formal way. But wasn’t making out with him enough? How could he possibly think I’d have any interest in Patrick Kramer?
When the bell rang I grabbed my Discman from my backpack and put on Ani DiFranco, blasting it so loud it overpowered every thought. “Untouchable Face” hit the chorus just as I passed the cafeteria. Half the school was still out sick, and the halls felt so much lonelier than they normally did. I was right by the water fountain when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Tyler had caught up to me. I could only vaguely understand what he was saying, his lips mouthing each word as I tugged off my headphones.
“What’d you say?”
“I just said…wait up. Actually I said it like”—he raised his eyebrows and kind of yelled it—“Jess, wait up!”
Then he smiled.
Like that, we were back there, and I could feel him nuzzling into my neck, and I remembered how his hands had cupped my chin, his thumbs against my cheekbones. He had smiled while we kissed, and it had made it so much better but so much harder to actually kiss.
“Did you want a ride home? I know Kristen usually takes you or whatever, but I thought maybe…” Tyler nodded to the junior parking lot behind us. He always drove to school, even though his neighborhood was just a two-minute walk through the trees behind the north gym. My mom would lose it if she saw me in his ancient Chevy Blazer, with the huge dent in the side.
“Kristen has a Spanish Honor Society meeting, so I was going to take the bus. You’re sure it’s not out of your way?”
He laughed. “It’s definitely out of my way, but I knew that.”
I was smiling so much it was hard to look at him.
“Okay, perfect.”
Except for the part about my mom, and not wanting to die in a rollover accident, but I wasn’t going to mention that.
“Want me to carry those?”
He nodded to my textbooks, which I’d tucked under one arm. Maybe it was stupid, but it felt like a sign. Carrying your books was a very boyfriend thing to do. Wasn’t there so much more to that question?
“You sure?”
“Don’t let them tell you chivalry’s dead.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, the same people who say ‘great minds think alike’ or ‘follow your heart.’ They’re saying things all the time.”
“Oh, I know them. They also said ‘nothing in life is free’ and ‘love is blind.’ ”
“Love is definitely not blind. They were wrong about that,” Ty said, and for the first time I noticed it—the googly love eyes. He was staring at me like he could see through my clothes.
I passed the books to him and he hugged them to his chest.
* * *
We took a detour on the way home, stopping at Maple Cove, which Tyler loved almost as much as I did. It was still too cold to sit on the sand, so we stretched out on a warped picnic table, our shoulders pressed together. We stared up at the sky, watching a flock of birds change direction overhead. Our breath appeared and disappeared in front of us.
“But really,” I said, “how many sweater vests do you think Ian Grand owns? If you open up his closet, are there just stacks and stacks of them?”
“It’s like he decided that was his style. Forget JNCOs, forget Sambas: sweater vests.”
“Sara went through a sweater vest phase,” I said. “Right after she saw Clueless.”
“Yeah, a little different…” Tyler tipped his head to the side so he could see my face. “How is she doing?”
“Do you want the real answer or the fake answer?”
“Both.”
“The fake answer is: she’s good, her spirits are up, and the doctors say she’s stable.” The back of my throat was tight, and I wanted to believe it. It sounded so much better than the truth. “The real answer is that it feels like we’re all on this train we can’t get off of. And we can see that there’s another train up ahead and we’re going to crash into it if we don’t do something, if something doesn’t change. But we can’t switch tracks and we don’t have control of the steering, and so we’re all just bracing for it. I keep wishing I could just slow everything down, like maybe if I had enough time they’d figure out a cure, or there’d be some medicine that really helped her. Maybe there’d be another way.”
I pressed my hands deep into my pockets, working an old candy wrapper into a ball. I felt like someone was choking me. My throat was still tight, and the heat rose behind my eyes, a wash of tears blurring my vision. I started counting. I counted seven birds cutting across the clouds. I counted the three picnic tables on the beach, one lifeguard stand, and five trash cans. I only stopped when the back of my throat released and I felt further away from it, from anything that could hurt me.
I’d gotten so good at Not Crying. I could compete in the Not Crying Olympics. I could give lectures on the cause. When Sara had gotten sick I couldn’t let her see me cry, so I started counting. In the doctor’s office, at the hospital, in her bedroom. When the sadness threatened to overtake me I’d count the chairs lining the wall, the overhead lights. I once counted sixty-two slats in a set of vertical blinds.
“Even if my mom would let me go away to college, which is doubtful, I’m not going to leave Sara,” I said. “I just can’t be away from home right now.”