Chapter Nineteen #2
I peeled back one corner of the lid. Inside was some sort of casserole topped with breadcrumbs.
“It’s good,” Greyson said. “It’s got like three fancy cheeses I can’t pronounce. He always makes it on report card day. Not as a reward or anything. I just hate report card day.”
“Today definitely feels like a report card day,” I said, tapping my fingers against the lid of the Tupperware, my heart full at the thought of Alex in his kitchen cooking for me, even after everything that had happened between us. “Will you tell him I said thanks?”
“Sure.” I expected her to sprint off toward her unit, but she only stood there, gnawing on the hoodie string again.
I set the Tupperware on the entryway table. “Do you want to come in? You can have some.”
Greyson shook her head, dropping her eyes to her shoes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when Kitty and Mia came to say goodbye.”
“You were just trying to be a good friend.”
“Yeah.” I thought she would go then, but she lingered at my door. “Have they called you yet?” she asked.
“No. You?”
She shook her head, and I could see the hurt on her face. Her only friends had up and left, refusing to tell her where they were.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come in?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She let the hoodie string fall from her mouth and started speaking so fast that I had a hard time keeping up.
“Speaking of being a good friend, Mia made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone.
But I don’t know, I think you should probably know about it.
And Dad’s basically drilled into my head that we aren’t supposed to keep secrets, especially harmful ones, but please don’t tell her you heard it from me, because she’d kill me, and I don’t want her to hate me, even if we never see each other again. ”
A secret? A harmful one? What secret could Mia possibly have? “Slow down, Greyson. Mia made you promise not to tell anyone what?”
Greyson scanned the walkway, one direction, then the other. I leaned forward in anticipation. What had Mia said to make Greyson act this paranoid?
“Greyson, what—”
“Mia said it’s her fault Samson’s dead.”
Greyson stuck the hoodie string back in her mouth, and I stared at her. “But Samson was hit by a car. Mia was home when it happened.”
“I know. That’s what Kitty and I said. But she said it was her fault because Samson asked her for a ride to his friend’s house, and she said no, and so he took his bike and . . . and . . .” She shook her head. “She hates herself.”
I gripped the doorframe, glad I’d set down the Tupperware.
Moments from the summer flitted through my mind.
Mia’s words from last night—I ruin everything.
Her distaste for driving. The guilt I sometimes found on her face.
That night on the patio—Aunt Jo. There’s something I didn’t say. Something about Samson.
Aunt Jo. Mia had never called me that, not even when she was a kid.
It was always Jo this and Jo that. Was this what she’d been about to tell me?
I’d suspected something was going on, and yet I hadn’t pushed.
I’d been so closed off that Mia felt she couldn’t come to me.
Instead, I’d spent all summer trying to distract her and Kitty.
I hadn’t wanted to talk about Samson at all.
And so they’d turned to someone who would listen—Greyson.
How had I failed so miserably at being there when they needed me most?
“Jo?” Greyson said.
“Thank you for telling me.” I sighed, taking in Greyson before me, who’d been kind, and open, and loyal when I couldn’t be. “They’re lucky to have you as a friend.”
She dropped her eyes to her shoes again. “It’s awful, and I . . . I feel bad for how much I complained about moving. They must think I’m so annoying. It’s not like anyone’s died.”
“You’re allowed to be sad,” I said. “Mia and Kitty understand. They don’t think you’re annoying, and neither do I, and neither does your dad.”
Greyson’s lip trembled. She looked up at me, then jolted forward and wrapped me in a hug. “He really likes you,” she said. “I do too.”
I hugged her back, not knowing what to say. It was obvious I’d miss Alex, but I knew I’d miss Greyson just as much.
She pulled away from me and wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of Mia’s hoodie. “Dad’s probably wondering where I am,” she said with a sniff. “He’s going to think I got kidnapped by aliens or something. Well, he probably wouldn’t think that. But he might think I got kidnapped, so I better go home.”
I watched her bound off across the parking lot, only closing my door when I saw her disappear through hers.
Then I went to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, shoveling the casserole straight from the Tupperware and into my mouth until I thought I’d be sick if I took another bite.
I opened the refrigerator, pushing around cartons and containers to make room for one more.
There was a pizza box, a jug of milk, a carton of half-and-half, three Chinese takeout boxes, a pile of candy bars, and about five containers of food Alex had sent over with Greyson this week that I hadn’t returned yet.
It was the fullest my fridge had been in years, and I thought of the day the girls had arrived—the cereal and milk I’d stolen from the boat, my refrigerator bare.
I pulled out the pizza box and set it on the counter, wedging the casserole into a space on the top shelf.
The refrigerator beeped, and I shut the door, wondering what Kitty and Mia were doing right now.
Probably watching TV in their hotel room.
I flopped onto the couch and covered myself with a blanket they’d left folded nearby.
Closing my eyes, I tried to still each part of my body one by one, but it didn’t work.
I gave up and turned the TV back on, resuming the episode of My Super Sweet 16 I’d been in the middle of before Greyson came over.
The main conflict was about the mother surprising her daughter with matching outfits (silvery minidresses even Nina would deem inappropriate), and I cried as I watched it.
The episodes with parents trying to act like teenagers were Mia and Kitty’s favorites.
I cried all throughout the episode and into the start of the next one.
For Kitty, who couldn’t remember Samson’s laughter.
For Mia, who blamed herself for his death.
For my sister and Mark, who’d lost their son and their marriage.
And for myself, not because I deserved any pity, but because in trying to protect myself, I’d pushed away the people I loved the most. And to what end?
The distance hadn’t made their leaving hurt any less.
—
When I woke up the next morning, the TV displayed a message asking if I was still watching My Super Sweet 16.
I rubbed my hands over my face, smoothing the welts the couch pillow had left on my cheek.
My body was stiffer than when we’d slept at Coral Castle, but at least I had the day off.
There was no way I would have been able to put on my stew smile.
I checked my phone, hoping for something, anything, from Mia and Kitty, but there was nothing.
Not even a punctuation-free angry text from Beth.
It was still early, night fading into gray. I went into the bathroom, where my bathing suit hung over the rail of the shower curtain. Shedding my work clothes from the day before, I pulled it on, avoiding my reflection in the mirror.
I left my condo and walked down to the pool.
All night I’d dreamed of my father and Samson.
The dreams had been memories of things I’d forgotten or had wanted to forget.
I’d come early enough that I had the pool to myself.
The water raised goose bumps on my skin as I descended each step, and once I adjusted to the temperature, I did laps back and forth, the memories looping through my mind again as I swam.
My father stretched out beside me on my bed, the two of us listening to songs from an opera I didn’t understand.
I’d never cared what they were about. It was the sound of my father humming along that was beautiful to me.
The day Samson lost his first tooth, and how I’d tried not to laugh when he cried because he was terrified of the tooth fairy.
My father teaching me to ride a bike, how he’d promised not to let go without telling me, a promise he’d kept.
I lifted myself from the pool when I was too tired to swim any longer, and watched as the sky shifted and changed.
Florida was famous for its beaches, but Florida skies were what I loved most about living here.
Every morning looked like a miracle. Light flooded above the horizon, threading gold through the towering clouds strung overhead.
I thought about Samson again, who’d sometimes joined me for my morning swims. We’d go down to the beach when we were done, the two of us watching the sunrise while his sisters slept.
I couldn’t remember the last sunrise we’d watched together.
There were too many identical insignificant mornings like that one.
Only they weren’t insignificant, even if they weren’t memorable.
I would have forced myself into memorizing every second if I’d known we’d never watch another sunrise together again.
“There you are, Jo Jo.” Startled, I turned around. Beside the gate to the pool stood Nina, looking exactly herself in an oversized Hawaiian shirt and mom jeans.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Nina sat beside me on the ledge of the pool. She rolled up the bottoms of her jeans and let her feet dangle in the water. “Alex called. He said you might need me.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
Nina nodded. She put her arm around my shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I said. “But I think I need to.”
She rubbed my arm. “All right, then. Hit me.”
I kept my eyes on the water and told Nina all about my fight with Mia and Kitty.
Mia’s secret. How I’d refused to talk about Samson all summer, pushing the girls away.
How I knew exactly what Mia was going through, because I’d felt the same way when my father died.
I told her about the note the girls had left and how they thought they’d ruined my summer.
“I really fucked up, Nina. If I hadn’t been so bent on trying to make them happy, maybe Mia would have told me, and I could have helped.”
“They probably haven’t left yet,” she said.
“It’s too late. They won’t answer their phones, and Beth won’t talk to me.
” I watched ripples of sunlight web their way across the pool and thought of what Mia had said last night: If you love someone, you don’t give up on them.
You try. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe I could find them.
I was sick of waiting, sick of pushing people away.
I was so damn tired of being afraid and defensive.
I’d thought my list and my job meant I was adventurous, a risk taker.
But I wasn’t, not with anything that mattered.
I couldn’t take the easy way out. Not with this.
A phone call once they returned home wouldn’t be enough.
I had to find them before they left. I at least had to try.
I hopped to my feet and wrapped my towel around my waist. I could find the girls and explain they hadn’t ruined anything.
I could talk to Mia like Beth had talked to me on that long-ago night in her kitchen.
I could show her I understood. I could convince them to stay and save what was left of the summer.
“We need to hurry,” I said.
Nina jumped to her feet beside me and hurriedly rolled down the bottoms of her jeans. “Yes! I love a good airport run.”
“How many have you done?”
“How many has the average person done?” Nina asked, following me through the pool gate and into the parking lot.
“I don’t know, probably zero.”
“Double that, then.”
“That’s . . . still zero. And besides, I’m hoping a hotel run will be enough.”
Instead of going left to my condo, I went right and stopped in front of Alex’s door. I knocked, and Nina turned to me. “Why are we—”
Alex opened the door, and my heart stuttered at the sight of him in his plaid pajama pants and a white T-shirt, his hair messy from sleep.
Ordinary in the best way. His eyes widened in surprise, probably confused at the sight of me standing there in my bathing suit and towel, and Nina dressed as she always was. “Jo. Nina. Good morning.”
“Remember how you told me to let you know if I needed anything?” I said.
Alex stepped aside without hesitation. “Come on in.”