Chapter Seven
How long’s she been like this?” I heard a voice say.
“Since noon or so.”
“Oof. Yeah. Probably should check in.”
I opened my eyes, slowly. They were sticky and swollen. Around me the room felt warm, sun coming in strong through the window onto my back. Still, I didn’t move. It was like if I stayed where I was, I could pretend none of this was happening.
Colin had broken up with me.
“We’ve just been a couple for so long,” he’d explained when I’d asked for a reason.
In the small square at the bottom of my screen, my face was pale, my hair mussed.
I looked like I’d been in a car crash. Blindsided.
“I mean, there’s a whole world out there besides each other. I feel like we should experience it.”
“I don’t understand,” I’d told him. My voice was tight, fighting over the lump in my throat. “It’s been, like, one day.”
He’d bit his lip. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I wanted to say something, but—”
That breath. My head on his chest. We’ll be okay, right?
“But?” I’d said. “But what?”
He looked so sad. Which felt unfair, even insulting. I was the one getting my heart broken. “I’m so sorry, Idaho.”
This broke the dam. Just like that, I was sobbing, raw, unable to control myself. At some point, Colin had said he had to go. Him disappearing from the screen—poof!—was like a final gut punch.
“Poor thing.” I heard Liz say now. “I remember when Trav dumped me junior year.”
“We all remember that,” my mom replied. “You played that ‘Nothing 2 U’ song over and over again.”
“ ‘Nothing Compares 2 U,’ ” Kasey murmured.
“I was devastated!” Liz said. “It felt like my heart literally did break. I wanted to die.”
My mom asked, “Should I knock?”
“Did you try already?”
“I put my head in an hour ago. She told me to go away.”
Had I?
“Have they been having problems?” Liz asked.
“Not that I know of,” my mom told her. “They seemed fine at graduation on Saturday.”
“Poor thing,” Liz said again.
There was a soft rap at the door. Kasey called out, “Finley? You okay?”
No, I thought, but said nothing. Outside, a boat was puttering by, another person’s summer going just as planned.
“Let me try,” Liz said. “Finley? Sweetie? We’re here if you need support.”
“You don’t even know her,” my mom said, sounding annoyed.
“Heartbreak is universal.”
I heard someone coming in the front door then. “Where is everyone?”
“Back here,” Kasey and Liz called out in unison.
“Wasps?” It was Clark.
“No,” Kasey said. “Just talking. Cardoon happy?”
“Very. Surprisingly, so far this arrangement is actually working,” Clark replied. “Although the timing of the buses is a bit of a shitshow.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she told him. “For now I’m just grateful for the business.”
“Same,” Clark replied. “Anyway, I’m going to study. Ben went to Bly Supply, but he’ll be back in a bit.”
“Study?” Liz said. “It’s summer.”
“He’s taking a night class,” Kasey explained.
“Business Methods and Applications,” Clark added. “It’s about as boring as it sounds. I’ll see you guys.” The front door banged. A moment later, I heard the truck’s engine.
“That boy and his work ethic,” Liz observed. “And he’s such a sweetheart.”
“Where’s his mom these days?” my mom asked.
“Jennifer? Bly Corners, still. She’s a principal at the middle school. Remarried.”
Another knock at the door, this time louder. “Finley,” Kasey called. “Can you let us know you’re okay?”
I squeezed my eyes shut so tight, my sight went black. “I’m fine. Please… just leave me alone.”
My voice cracked on the last part. How embarrassing. And just like that, I was crying again. When I finally calmed down, I knew I’d been heard. They were gone.
I opened my eyes to find the room dark, a pink sky now showing through the window. My mouth was so dry, I could barely swallow. Just like that, it all came back.
I’m so sorry, Idaho.
I got off the bed, stumbling out the door to the bathroom. I barely recognized myself in the mirror—my eyes were so swollen from crying. Splashing water on my face didn’t help.
When I came back out, I saw Ben by the coffeemaker.
He was carrying a cardboard crate full of groceries, a sheaf of papers tucked under one arm.
For a moment, I watched him unpack: big tray of eggs, gallon of milk, sizeable bag of coffee, two-pack of bread.
The way he moved around the kitchen, so familiar, made it clear that he, too, knew this place.
Me in the doorway, though, was apparently a surprise. When he saw me, he jumped.
“Hey,” he said. His shirt, the same one from earlier, I now saw said, UNION GROVE SPARTANS FIGHT! A helmet with a fist coming out of it was underneath. He put the papers on the counter. “These are for Cat. She needed something printed.”
I looked through to the porch, all those windows and the water beyond. The package Lana had delivered was now open on the table, the printer beside it. Nearby on a chair were several cords and an open manual.
“Printer wasn’t working,” he explained. “I was already going to Bly Supply for the Egg.”
Any other time, I would have at least tried to act normal. Especially in front of a good-looking guy my age. Now I just nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak.
“There’s a Home Office two doors down. No big deal.”
He turned back to the box, taking out a twelve pack of beer and a comically large plastic clamshell of grapes. “So,” he said, “you get hold of your boyfriend?”
I shook my head, then made this weird, strangled noise. It was so embarrassing. Not as much as what happened next, though. I burst into tears.
“Whoa,” he said, looking alarmed. “Are you—”
“He dumped me.”
This came out more as a wail than words.
“Oh,” he said.
“Over video call,” I added. “From sea.”
For a moment, he just stood there, clearly flummoxed. He took a look around the kitchen. “Do you… want a grape?”
“What?”
He reached over, picking up the plastic clamshell. It was so packed that when he took off the top, the fruit just burst out, as if excited. He held it out to me. “Here.”
I didn’t know what to do other than take one. As I popped it into my mouth, he helped himself as well. Then we both just stood there, chewing.
“I don’t know why I just did that,” he said after swallowing. “Probably should have offered you a tissue instead.”
Somehow, I laughed. “I was wondering when grapes became sympathy items.”
“Right now,” he said. “Apparently. Another?”
I nodded at the beers on the counter. “Actually, can I have one of those?”
“Uh… yeah. Sure.” He tore the box and removed a bottle, popping the top open on the edge of the counter before handing it to me. It was cold, dotted with beads of condensation. “Your mom’s not around, I’m assuming?”
I shrugged, then took three big gulps, draining it by a half. “Don’t care.”
“Really,” he said. “What’s that like? I’m curious.”
“Not caring?” I asked, clarifying.
“Yeah. That’s not exactly my strong suit.”
“It’s new for me, too,” I admitted.
“Well, keep me posted.” He popped another grape, then eased back against the counter, pushing his hair out of his face. “So you were dating a sailor?”
“A sailor?”
“You said he was at sea,” he replied, his mouth full.
“On a cruise,” I told him. “Disney.”
He winced, as if this was a particularly disturbing detail. “Yikes.”
“Right?” A burp came out of me, loud. He tried not to flinch, failing. I took another swig. “We were together forty-eight hours ago! Talking about Seymour the Goat!”
“Who?”
I waved my hand, not wanting to explain. “And yet he said he’d been thinking about this. For a while, in fact. And I had no clue. How is that even possible?”
I basically spat this last part out, then sucked down the rest of the beer. It felt good. Colin and I rarely drank, but I wasn’t with Colin anymore. Apparently. I took another one, popping the cap off.
“Look,” he said, “I’ve got to go feed the hummingbirds. You can come if you—”
“Sure.” I didn’t even let him finish. Suddenly, this seemed like the exact thing I needed to do. Birds. Yes. “Let’s go.”
Outside, it was cooler, although not by much, the sun almost to the water as I followed him down the stairs and toward the small cabin on the other side of the driveway.
There were people still out on the lake, jumping off a raft a few hundred feet off shore.
I watched them—splash, splash—as I tipped my beer up, walking.
A week ago Colin and I had been at Hannah’s, doing the last few StuCo things before school ended for real. After leaving, he’d taken the long way back to my house, holding my hand at every stoplight. Just a normal, basic Monday night. I’d had no idea it was the last one we’d have together.
The cabin was cute, painted white with black shutters. The small front porch held a couple of chairs and a metal table. Flowers were everywhere: blooming in bushes along the steps, trailing from the trees, dotting the scrubby grass.
“This is Kasey’s?” I asked as we started around the side of the cabin, passing a huge hydrangea bush with blossoms so perfect and purple, they didn’t even seem real.
“In the summers. Rest of the year she lives over the Egg.” He pushed through a wooden gate, shifting a leafy vine with bright orange flowers out of the way. “Watch the prickers. They’ll get you.”
“What is this?” I asked as I ducked under.
“Some weird, almost-extinct species found nowhere else,” he replied. “Kasey’s magic. She’s like a plant whisperer.”
Just then something dive-bombed me. It was quick, and buzzing. I shrieked.
“Birds, too,” he added. He turned around. “Don’t worry. They don’t bite.”
I collected myself, or tried to. “Bite?”
As I said this, another came over my shoulder. This time, as it whizzed past, I saw it was a hummingbird. Little clicking noises got close, then retreated.
“They can be real jerks when they’re hungry,” he said as we came around the house. “Just like people. Back in a sec.”
He ducked under a pink blossom tree and up the steps into the cabin.
I kept walking, taking in the yard as I went deeper into it.
So many flowers. Big and small. Spiky and puffy.
On vines and with tightly wound stems. Every color you could imagine, crammed into the tiny space from the back of the cabin to where brush took over by the water.
Also: red feeders. On poles, hanging from hooks, strung in the trees. The hummingbirds buzzed from one to the next, making little angry chirpy noises. I just stood there, taking in the pure energy of this living place as it moved around me.
A door slammed and Ben reappeared, a plastic pitcher now in his hands.
Instantly, the birds began tracking him, circling and snapping at each other as he moved toward a feeder near me.
He uncapped the top, filling it, a few drops drizzling down his arm.
Immediately, one zoomed in, dipping its beak.
Even as it drank I could see its chest heaving, as if the stillness was necessary but hard to bear.
When another darted by, I followed, passing Ben as he uncapped another feeder, again tilting the pitcher. Under my feet the grass felt slippery, making me stumble a bit.
I ended up by a line of rosebushes, carefully pruned. There were pink ones, red, a dusty orange, white. So beautiful. I put my finger to one bloom, feeling the thin softness of the petal. Ben was passing by me again: I could feel him, even at a distance. Suddenly I felt woozy, unbalanced.
I turned, just as the sun shifted to shine bright in my eyes.
For a moment, I was blinded. When my vision returned, the sight of the strange backyard and a boy I didn’t know crossing it gave me a sudden jolt of panic, making my heart, too, tick-tick-tick fast in my chest. That was the last thing I remembered.