15. Sydney
My tiptoes push against the wood floor of the porch, softly moving the swing back and forth. I bite my lip to taper a wave of adrenaline running through me while I wait as patiently as I can.
The text from Cole yesterday—and this looming date—has proven to be the only source of distraction from my grief, despite how hard Laura and Jimmy have done their best to cheer me up. There’s only so much talking it out and ice cream dates I can do. I just want more of the way I feel when I’m with Cole.
I flip through my messages, wanting to look at it again for the hundredth time today, and find the one from this morning.
Cole : I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear comfortable shoes.
I have no clue what we’ll be doing, but I’m hoping I made a decent choice when I opted for a sundress and tennis shoes. There are only so many things to do in Baudette, and every single one of them that I can think of can be done in a pair of tennis shoes.
I set the phone on the cushion and drum my fingernails against the wooden bench, clearing my throat simply for something to do. I follow the path of the river as it winds behind our house, seeing only a glimpse of it, but I’m able to watch a large log as it gets swept along in the current.
My parents' voices carry from inside the house, low hums of back and forth chatter. They’re undoubtedly doing the same thing they’ve been doing for the last several days now…taking advantage of what’s left of Mom’s lucid moments to go over any possible life or medical-decision scenarios they can think of. They’ve also been throwing in many discussions about the future of the house, the lodge, and of course, Graham and me.
Conversations I’ve been a part of as little as possible, if I’m honest.
I push thoughts of my mom’s diagnosis out of my head, holding my emotions at bay while I wait for the sound of tires to eventually come down the driveway with bated breath, anxious to soak in the reprieve I know that sound will be.
I had no way of knowing at the time that moment would never come. At first, an entire hour passes without a word or car in sight—and then it becomes two. All the while, I barely move a muscle, stewing in a rapidly increasing haze of anger and shame.
Could he still be coming? Where in the world could he be? Maybe he got tied up with something. Is it really that hard to send a quick message explaining what could have possibly happened?
A part of me refuses to accept that I really just got stood up, especially from Cole, someone I thought I could trust. Maybe I’ve read him wrong this whole time. In a split second of panic, an awareness hits me that this is the absolute last thing I need right now. I’m fully aware that this anger is probably not healthy to be adding to my mix of emotions. I feel unstable enough as it is.
Another hour passes without a word, and the sky is now completely dark. As the grasshoppers chirp their nightly song, I finally work up the courage to send a simple text.
Sydney : Thanks for the date…
As much as I’m tempted to lay into him and grill him with a ton of questions, I decide against it. Honestly, what’s the point? I closed myself off to him the moment I realized he wasn’t coming.
I kick off my tennies and curl my legs up onto the swing. Laura and Jimmy are off doing their own things tonight, and Graham is out on the island. The last thing I want to do is go back inside and get sucked into the emotional vortex of being around my parents, who are working through grief of their own. So, I stay on the swing and rock mindlessly back and forth.
Feeling utterly alone.
“Are you alright?” Laura asks for the tenth time in as many days, pressing her shoulder into the locker next to mine.
No, I’m not.
“Fine,” I tell her, attempting to once again ignore the ever-present heartache that feels like it’s been crushing me a little more every day. She knows me well enough to know that, underneath my outwardly positive attitude, I’m barely staying afloat. Things at home have been unbearably heavy, and I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“Yeah, well, that half-ass response might work on someone else but not on your best friend,” she says pointedly. “How about some ice cream after school? It’s definitely been a double-scoop kind of week, don’t you think?”
“Sure, I guess.” I shrug, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile. A double scoop of rocky road actually does sound somewhat appealing, even if I had the same thing last week.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, but I have some intel,” Jimmy announces hesitantly, appearing on the other side of my locker. There’s a slight cringe to his face, which tells me he’s probably about to bring up the other factor causing my terrible mood this week.
“Is it something that’s going to help or hurt our mood?” Laura asks, nudging her head in my direction as if I can’t see her clear as day.
“Honestly? Probably hurt?” he says slowly, pushing his lips together. “It’s about him.”
My eyes dart directly to his.
“Cole?”
He nods, assessing me slowly. I didn’t think it was possible, but my chest feels even heavier at the mention of his name.
“Tell me,” I demand at the same time Laura speaks his name as a warning.
“I think he’s gone,” he says in a hushed whisper.
“Gone? Like, left town gone?” I ask, even though I already know the answer to my own question. Word on the street, from what I’ve heard, is that nobody has seen or heard from him in the last week. He definitely hasn’t been showing up to school—not that I’ve been looking or anything.
“I guess,” Jimmy cringes sympathetically. “The rumor going around the gym locker room is that he has a girl down in Bemidji that he would go visit on the weekends. They think he left to go see her.”
“Great,” I mutter, slamming my locker door shut. Of course he was seeing someone else. All of that enticing mystery surrounding him was bound to have at least a few secrets.
“I’m sorry.” Laura puts a soothing hand on my upper back.
“It’s fine.” I shake my head then plaster on a fake smile that I know she can see all the way through. Shifting my biology textbook in my arms, we head down the hallway.
As we walk, I take notice of the many posters adorning the hall that boast of the various senior year activities and end-of-the-year celebrations coming up. As much as I’m really trying to push through and enjoy what’s left of my time here, despite everything going on, I’m not sure that is within reach anymore.
I know he’s just a boy, and I have a mantra that I try to live by—to not give someone else the power to ruin my day—but…something was different about Cole. Whatever connection we had reached a part of me I didn’t know was there. It touched on an emotional chord that was as soothing as it was igniting. It was intoxicating for the brief time I felt it, and I had hoped that meant it could be something remarkable.
The heaviness lingers as we walk to class, and I find myself once again feeling overwhelmingly ready to leave this place. To leave it all behind.
Just a few more weeks. That’s all I need to get through…and then I can finally give in to this primal urge I’ve been trying to ignore that’s been telling me to run.