Chapter Seventeen
I don’t leave the roller rink until I get a call from what I assume is the auto shop.
I answer the unknown number, but I can’t hear what’s being said, so I wave to Declan and lean over the wall to pass him my phone.
Then I exit and return the rental skates, Declan trailing half a foot behind me as we walk back over to the mechanic without saying a word.
We hop in the car, and the GPS says it’ll be a smooth, no-traffic four hours back to Omaha.
For the first half, we listen to the radio since I can’t be bothered to put on a playlist. What songs would even fit this vibe?
Trapped in a car with a guy who is causing me emotional whiplash, having gone from a friendly rival I had no romantic interest in to being a guy I’ve kissed and am developing feelings for but anything between us is over before it even really started.
Sure, Taylor Swift probably has something close, but the last thing I need right now is Declan trying to scrutinize my song choice.
It’s just, like, a week ago, this entire set of circumstances would’ve baffled me, yet right now I’m so stuck in it that I can’t see the forest for the trees.
Halfway through, we top off the gas tank and switch drivers, and Declan puts in his home address as our next stop.
He breaks the silence with what he incorrectly assumes might be a neutral topic.
“When would you be interested in putting together the final touches before submitting the road trip board game? We could meet at Roll Again.”
He thinks we’re still doing that? We did most of the work already, and there’s no reason not to other than…I don’t want to. And that’s a good enough reason for me right now.
“It doesn’t seem original enough, honestly.”
Declan pulls away from the station and stares forward at the road, switching lanes to get us over to the highway on-ramp. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think we should finish it, actually,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, which isn’t hard, because I feel utterly deflated.
“We could just submit what we have and see what happens?” he says, grasping at straws.
“No, no…it really doesn’t seem worth giving it a try anymore,” I say, wondering if my double meaning is apparent. Internally, I smirk at how my point would’ve been much clearer if I’d used the word complicated in there somehow.
“I guess not,” he relents.
We finish the rest of the drive in silence.
I’m so tired of being on the road. If I never see another billboard again, it’ll be too soon.
There are so many times I half turn toward him, wanting to say something, anything, but restrain myself.
This is too many hours to be sitting next to a fresh breakup.
The navigation takes us to Declan’s house, which is only a few neighborhoods over from my own, probably about seven or eight minutes if I had to guess. He’s lived this close to me this entire time?
He parks the car on the street in front but doesn’t get out.
The garage door is halfway open, revealing two competing piles of moving boxes that seem to be dividing his parents’ things.
I wonder if Declan will end up putting his own stuff on both sides, or not at all, paring down everything he owns to just what he can fit in suitcases to bring to college. That is stressful.
“Hey, you’re home,” I say softly, not really wanting him to leave now that the time has come.
“It’s not home for much longer.” He delays getting out of the car, and I’m half-optimistic he’ll say something about us when he turns to look at me, but all he says for parting words is “I guess I’ll see you around?”
The best I can muster is “Maybe.”
Declan’s face scrunches up—mad at me, or himself, or everything. We both get out of the car, and he hurries up the drive as I switch over to get behind the wheel, but then he turns to add, “You’re right, the road trip game was probably really boring anyway.”
.....
While the journey had four of us, I finish it as I started: at home by myself. Cyclical and almost predictable. Pass Go, collect two hundred dollars, and go around the board yet again. My parents meet me on the driveway to hug hello and inspect the car, but Amelia is still out with friends.
I drag my bag inside, leaving my sister’s college stuff in the car because it’s not my problem, but she better clear it out as soon as possible, because it is mine to drive now, after all. I do a quick cry in the shower and attempt to go to sleep, but somehow I’m not tired.
When Amelia gets dropped off at home late, our parents have already gone to bed, but I’m still downstairs, searching for a snack in the kitchen pantry.
“Hey, you made it!” Amelia says, cheery, stepping around me to fill a glass of water at the fridge.
“Yeah,” I mutter, finishing a spoonful of peanut butter and dropping it in the sink, then adding, “No thanks to you.”
She kicks off her shoes in the entryway basket and takes my words as the fight instigator they clearly are meant to be. “Are you seriously mad?”
“I don’t know.” But I push out the kitchen chair and sit back with my arms crossed. “What exactly constitutes mad?”
“I’m sorry we drove home separately.” Her words reek of sarcasm, even if that’s not her intent.
“But did you have a good time with your boyfriend?” she asks, the question eliciting an immediate negative reaction from me.
There’s no one who can read me better than my sister, even without being able to fully see my face.
Her tone shifts to concern. “Oh, you’re upset about something else? ”
Because…well, obviously, there’s so much I’m angry about right now, no matter how I try to spin it, I don’t know how I’m going to say this without it seeming super childish. “I don’t know. It just seems like you’re ditching me every chance you get.”
“I’m not—”
“You actually are.” I count each instance on my fingers. “On campus. In middle-of-nowhere Iowa. All freaking summer.”
“Okay, I’m sorry we drove separately the final stretch, but you can’t be mad at me for the summer program?”
“Maybe I can. Because it’s really adding up, Lee.”
“Iris, we can’t do all the same exact things anymore.” She takes a seat opposite me at the table.
Yet as soon as she sits down, I stand up.
“I know. And I don’t expect that. It’s just—it seems to me…
” I say, pausing to consider, like I’m trying to make some brilliant outsider observation that should change how she lives her life.
Some bigger picture thought that will distill why she’s trying to leave me in the dust. “That you’re trying really hard to be a different person. Pretending to be someone you’re not.”
Amelia takes a deep breath. “Iris, it’s late.”
“Sure, go to bed.” I cross my arms, feet planted on the ground in a fighting stance, making it apparent that I’m not going anywhere.
“Not while you’re still upset. Sit back down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do” tumbles out of my mouth as a gut reaction, but I return to my chair.
My sister wipes her hand on her forehead and sighs. “Okay, well, how am I pretending? Other than just growing up and trying new things?”
I search for my strongest argument. “Like, not telling your new friends about your vision.”
She tilts her chin, fielding the comment that must’ve seemed to come out of nowhere. “That’s what you’re being so dramatic about?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’d do the same. It can’t be healthy for you to be hiding such a big part of who you are.”
“It’s a big part of who I am?” Amelia unpacks this.
“Or is it just how I exist in the world? It doesn’t have to be everything.
It doesn’t have to be the first thing someone new knows about me.
I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on this whole situation.
” She goes in for the kill. “But you know what? If you get Stargardt’s, then you can try something different. ”
I’m quiet.
Maybe too quiet.
Amelia is quick to walk back her words. “You probably won’t. It isn’t even worth talking about.”
I stare down at the table, wondering if she’ll even realize that I’m no longer making eye contact. “Easy for you to say.”
“Easy for me to say?” The lines that crease across her forehead scream that I misspoke.
“I don’t mean it like that. It’s just…it’s heavy.”
“Okay.” Her voice is still terse, but her expression has softened.
“It’s hard to be calm about the likelihood of both my hearing and vision slipping away from me,” I explain. “I try to think logically about it, but it’s not a very logical thing and therefore hard to be rational about. I don’t understand it. I don’t want to understand, and—”
“Iris.” Amelia nods multiple times, like she’s going to give me some real talk that will solve this. “I mean this in the nicest possible way. Shut up.”
The metaphorical equivalent of slapping me across the face.
I’m pissed and gearing up to make this a real fight.
But then Amelia’s expression softens, her voice slowing down as she pulls out the worst possible move in a spat: She goes and says something nice.
“I’m sorry you’re trying to process all that and feeling like I’ve been abandoning you.
” Is she starting to tear up? Shit, I didn’t mean to make her cry.
“I mean, you are always going to be in my life. And I’m sorry if sometimes I take that for granted and don’t make enough time for just the two of us.
Because I love spending time with you. Really.
You’re my favorite person in the entire world. ”
“Yeah…” I cross my arms but feel slightly appeased. “Same.”
She taps her fingers on the table while she steadies herself again. “I know you already know this, but I feel like there’s one other thing that needs to be said.”
My stomach twists. I have no idea what this could possibly be about. “What?”
“It’s just—well, just because I stopped playing Rivalry doesn’t mean you would need to.”
“Why would I stop playing?” I ask, not immediately putting two and two together.
“You don’t need to,” she repeats. “But just in case for some reason you think my diagnosis and stopping playing went hand in hand. That wasn’t the reason. You could keep playing.”
Something settles within me that I hadn’t realized was concerned. “That’s good.”
“I’m sorry I dismissed the large-print version you found. That was a little snobby of me.”
“Wait,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Can you say that again and record it?”
Amelia shakes her head, the way she does when I’m making a joke out of a serious conversation. “I’m only saying maybe we could try playing again together sometime. Since it’s important to you. How about we do something Saturday?”
I shake my head, annoyed that she forgot about one of my biggest plans of the summer. “I’ll be at the expo all day…”
Without missing a beat, she says, “I could come with!”
“You don’t want to.”
“I do! I want to see your board game creations win.”
“It’s not going to. And”—I don’t want to say Declan’s name, so I avoid doing so—“I’m only submitting the one. We gave up on the team submission.”
Amelia is quiet for a moment, finally sensing that something must’ve happened on the way home. “Why?”
“Just ’cause.”
She decides now isn’t the best time to pry into the obvious situation with Declan that I’m not telling her about since we’ve already covered a lot tonight. “Well, I’m coming with to the expo.”
“You’ll have to see if there’s still tickets available.”
“I’ll check right after this.” She holds up her phone.
“They’re not super cheap.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You really don’t have to go. I’ll be busy with the gameplay tournament part too.”
Amelia stands up, having conclusively decided and therefore no longer wanting to deliberate this point. “Then I’ll be there to cheer you on.”
“This feels a little condescending now.”
“It’s not.” She steps over to wrap her arms around me in a hug. “I want to be there for you.”