Chapter 19
Note to self:
Mistakes, like bad seafood, have a way of coming up again.
Plan accordingly.
While Mack showered, Theo and I sat on opposite ends of the same brown couch that had been in my grandparents’ living room since I was a kid. In fact, not much had changed at all. It still had the slightly dated, homey feeling of my childhood, and the smell of baby powder and vanilla was faint but still there.
Karen was nestled on Theo’s lap, limp with joy as he stroked her. She was also watching me with unblinking dark eyes.
“She’s staring at me,” I whispered.
“She is not,” Theo said, amusement in his voice.
“That dog is planning my murder right this instant.” Karen’s head cocked to the side. I think she was sizing me up to estimate the lethal amount of poison she’d need.
“Since when do you not like dogs?”
“I like dogs. Normal-sized dogs who like to play fetch and cuddle and don’t want to bury my body in a shallow grave. That is not a dog.”
Theo grinned and Karen continued to bask in his attention. I might have been a little jealous of her. I too would be limp with joy if Theo decided to stroke me…my hair…stroke my hair.
“Let’s get this show on the road.” Mack waltzed into the living room.
Mack had always been a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy at home, suits and ties for work. But this Mack was a different model: Mack 2.0. He wore loose-fitting tan pants that I thought were linen, a blue guayabera shirt with yellow embroidery, brown leather sandals, and a fedora at a jaunty angle. In all, he looked like he might be heading on vacation to a Mexican beach resort.
“Oh, wow. This is different,” I said.
Mack glanced down at his clothes. “Thought I’d try out something new.” He did a spin. “What do you think?”
“You look great.”
“It was time for a change.” He grabbed his suitcase and pulled open the front door. “After you, madam.”
Mack insisted on sitting in the backseat and refused to change his mind no matter how much I protested. “Karen will do better back here and you two can keep each other company.”
“I’d rather you sit in front. It will be easier for you.”
“Stop playing so hard to get, Ali-Cat. Throw the man a bone.” With a wink, Mack patted me on the cheek and climbed into the backseat as though he hadn’t heard me.
“We are not dat?—”
“Close the door for me,” he said. “I plan to take a nap.”
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a small army of growling bears filled the car as Mack and Karen drifted off, his face pressed against the window and her face pressing into his lap.
I cringed. “I think Karen snores louder than he does.”
“That’s going to be fun to sleep in the same room with,” Theo said.
It turned out Mack had the same size bladder as a goldfish.
Two hours later (and our second pit stop of the day), we ended up at a gas station just past Lamar, Colorado. While Theo got gas, I stretched my legs, bought a variety of snacks that would have made a nine-year-old with a credit card proud, and asked Gus, the grizzled, bearded guy behind the counter for the key to the bathroom. The key was tied to an actual bicycle wheel and unlocked a dingy white door to reveal an even dingier bathroom.
Unfortunately, by the time I returned, Mack, Karen cradled in his arms like a newborn, and Gus were chatting away like long-lost brothers. I heard mention of local historical landmarks, and I knew we were done for.
“Mack’s gonna be a while.” I pointed to a picnic table on the side of the store. “Might as well sit outside and enjoy the weather.”
I climbed to sit atop the table and leaned back on my hands. The heat from the sun was soft and warm and a nice breeze rippled through my hair. The weather here was a dream, nothing like back home in Two Harts. It was beautiful, too, with sweeping views and mountains and fresh, clean air. The appeal was obvious. I could understand why Abe had settled in Colorado.
Theo sat on the bench, close enough that his shoulder brushed my knee. I rummaged through my bag of goodies and tossed a snack in his lap.
“Oreos?” With a grimace, he pinched the corner of the package and dangled it over my lap. “Not funny.”
Giggling, I snatched the cookies back and searched through the bag again. “I think it’s hilarious.”
This time when I tossed something at Theo, he held it up and grinned. “Black licorice. Much better.”
“Disgusting,” I said, around the sour gummy worm I’d already stuffed in my mouth.
“The great people of the Netherlands eat more black licorice every year than any other country.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Those are my people.”
“How are we even friends?” I asked the sky.
He pressed his shoulder a bit more into my knee. It would have been so easy to reach down and run my fingers through all that unruly hair. I wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
Theo pulled out his phone to check his email. From my position, I could see the subject line of the message he opened and began to read.
SUBJECT: re: re: Current address and contact information.
And while I knew it wasn’t my business, I still leaned in a little more, to see if I could make out any of the message itself when Theo seemed to remember I was there.
He stood abruptly and pressed his phone to his chest, tapping his fingertips on it. “I need to take care of something.”
I nodded and watched him as he wandered off toward the car. Yet another thing to add to the increasing list of weirdness. In the span of a day, we’d already ended up at a nudist resort, I’d woken up in Theo’s arms, and discovered Theo could flirt (and do it well).
Maybe that was the theme of this whole trip: Weird. Tomorrow, things were about to get even weirder. I rubbed my chest, trying to dislodge the uneasiness there.
By tomorrow morning, I would be looking my brother in the eye, and I had no idea the sort of reception I should expect. He could resent me. He should hate me. Although he’d never even once hinted at any such feelings over our phone calls and texts and emails, I had to believe my actions the day of that car accident replayed in his mind.
It had been a normal Tuesday, nothing out of the ordinary. I’d gone home with Mae on the bus, which sixteen-year-old Ali hated. But I’d had three seizures in the last four months. Legally, I wasn’t allowed to drive until I’d been at least six months seizure-free. So I was again stuck riding the bus. I had a real concern that, once that six-month mark finally arrived, my parents wouldn’t even allow me to drive. My overprotective mother had gone next-level after my epilepsy diagnosis, and I’d been forced to cut back on most of my activities.
No more soccer. No more driving. I wasn’t allowed to be alone. Walks by myself? No. A run? I had to take a brother with me. Embarrassingly, Mom had set up a baby monitor in my room in case I had a seizure at night. I’m surprised I was still allowed to shower without a safety officer.
The resentment had built quickly—with my parents and my body. Through the last few months of testing, the EEG, the photosensitivity and sleep deprivation tests, the introduction of daily medications and their side effects (hello, grumpy, tired, hungry Ali), I’d tried to stay positive. Most people lived perfectly productive lives with epilepsy. My new pediatric neurologist even said I may grow out of them. But sometimes, the frustration with a body I could not control was so overwhelming.
To make matters worse, living in a small town meant everyone knew everything. I had teachers, friends’ parents, the school janitor asking me if I felt okay, if I needed to sit down, if I needed water. I just wanted everything to go back to before the seizures started.
On the day of the accident, my parents had refused to let me sleep over at Mae’s because they’d wanted to “keep an eye on me.” By the time Abe had picked me up, all my teenage emotions, all the restrictions, all the lack of control had bubbled over.
“You okay?” he’d asked when I’d slid into the car. “You look like you want to punch someone.”
I’d scowled. “Are you volunteering?”
Grinning, he’d leaned away from me. “Okay, then. Someone’s not in a good mood today.”
Back then, Abe had been quite the flirt. Girls had loved his dark, messy hair, big smile, easy laugh, and the ever-growing collection of tattoos. He and Theo had been quite a pair. Abe, all dark and flirty. Theo, with his blond hair and quiet, thoughtful way. Somehow the two of them had been the very best of friends.
“Whatever,” I’d muttered.
“Ooo-kay.” He’d pulled onto the quiet, country road Mae’s family lived on. With my arms crossed, I’d leaned against the passenger window and sulked.
Five minutes of uncomfortable silence had been his limit. He’d pulled over next to the Richardsons’ pasture. “Alright, start talking. We aren’t moving until you do.”
I’d turned to him and vomited every frustrated, angry, annoyed, angsty feeling I had in me. When I was done, I’d swiped at the tears on my cheeks. “I’m sixteen but I can’t do anything. I can’t spend the night at my best friend’s house. I can’t play soccer anymore. I can’t even drive.” I threw myself back against the seat in disgust. “I hate my life.”
“It’s just that everyone’s w?—”
“Worried about me. Yeah. Yeah. I just want a little freedom. I feel like I can’t breathe some days.”
“What can I do to make it better?”
I still don’t know where the idea came from. There I was in Abe’s car, and he’d asked me so earnestly and I’d blurted it out. “Can I drive the car? Just for a little while?”
Abe’s hands had tightened on the steering wheel. “Is that such a great idea?”
“See? Even you!” I’d slumped in my seat.
“Okay. Yeah, okay. Sure. You can drive.”
“Really?”
“Come on,” he’d said with conviction.
Abe had never been good at saying no to me the way Frankie and Cal were. I’d eagerly slid behind the wheel of the car. Since it was November, the sun had long since set and minutes after I took over, rain began to pelt the car. I’d only had a few weeks of driving with my license before the first seizure. I was not, by any means, an experienced driver. Add in my mood, the chilly darkness of an early winter evening, the rain, the dark country road, the dangerous and intoxicating feeling of doing something I knew I shouldn’t, all formed the perfect storm.
That’s when I had the seizure.
The second before it started, I’d been hit with a wave of dizziness and then nothing. I’d woken to Abe yelling my name and shaking me so hard my teeth rattled.
My stomach had roiled, my vision was blurred and unfocused; I couldn’t form words, let alone sentences. I hadn’t been sure where I was, only that my head hurt, and I was going to puke any second.
Abe hadn’t flinched when I’d done just that a second later, all over him. “Oh, hell, Ali. You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”
I’d puked again and fallen back against the seat, the tinny, metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I’d bitten my tongue.
“You had a seizure.” Abe’s voice had sounded frantic. “We…uh, you ran into a tree.”
Everything that happened next were snapshots I’d later have to piece together. Abe getting out of the car, pulling me out, and propping me against a nearby tree. EMS arriving, my parents right behind them. My father yelling at Abe in the background. A trip to the hospital in the ambulance. My mother’s tearful face. Doctors. Blood draws and vital checks. The bone-deep exhaustion that lasted for hours after a seizure.
By the time I’d made it home in the wee hours of the morning, the house had been silent. Mom had helped to get me settled in bed. When I’d woken the next morning, Abe was gone. The note he’d slipped under the door said he’d miss me, and he’d written, “Don’t worry about the accident. I told Dad I was driving.”
I’d carried that secret with me for eleven long years, gotten so close to telling my parents the truth and then swallowing the words at the last minute. It wasn’t just that I’d caused the accident, it was the reason for the accident, that I’d been driving when I knew I shouldn’t be. It was that Mom would never let me out of her sight again if she knew. But mostly, it was because I was a coward.
Theo returned, pulling me from my memories. He stopped in front of me, his brow furrowed, and laid a hand on my knee. “Hey, you okay?”
“Do you think Abe will come to the wedding?” I worried my bottom lip.
“I know he misses you and your brothers and mom. Even your dad.”
“He’s told you that?”
He hesitated, as though he were debating what to say. “I’ve visited him a few times. Here, in Colorado. We’ve talked a lot about the whole situation.”
“You’ve visited him?” I crossed my arms over my chest. A surprisingly sharp zing of pain sliced through my heart.
“In the summers. Sometimes I’ll fly out for a long weekend.”
“You’ve never said anything.”
He gave me a weary look. “I didn’t want to put myself between him and your parents. Abe’s my best friend and your parents are like my family. I don’t want them to think I’ve chosen sides or anything.”
My chest tightened as I turned my face away. “You could have told me. You could have trusted me. I?—”
“Ali.” His fingers grazed my cheek, gently turning my head back. His eyes, those impossibly blue eyes, were tender as they gazed at me. I sucked in a breath. “It’s what Abe wanted.”
“It was?” I whispered and that hurt too, maybe worse. My own brother. Theo. I was so tired of everyone protecting me like I was fragile.
He pressed his lips together, his shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. “I know about the accident.”
I jerked back. “He told you?”
“Hey, lovebirds,” Mack yelled. “Let’s get a move on it. We don’t have all day.”
I tried to hop off the picnic table, but Theo stopped me with a hand on my hip. A jolt of warmth radiated from the spot, and it made me even angrier. Because I was mad at him and I didn’t get mad, and even though I was, he still had this stupid power over me, a power he didn’t even realize he had.
“Are you okay?” he asked me; his eyes seemed to reach right inside my head.
I forced a stiff smile. “You know all my secrets and I’m beginning to think I don’t know any of yours.”