Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
She’s right, of course. I think of my roommates—my friends—and how hard they work. Jobs, classes, volunteering. Jamie, signing his life away to the Army to get through school. Everyone has sacrificed something.
But then I think about the future they’re suggesting. Bogging down my schedule with coursework that will suck up my time and energy. The stress. The panic attacks. All of it under my parents’ ever-watchful eye, until they determine they can trust me again.
I can’t sign myself up for that, knowing what it will cost, day in and day out.
I have decades of life left to live. I don’t want to find myself fifty years down the road, miserable and wishing I’d been brave enough to make the choice for myself.
Even if it means sacrificing everything they’re willing to give me, and accepting the consequences too.
I put my hands on the table, dropping my head. “You know what? Turn me in.”
A long silence follows. Even the house has gone quiet, like it too is holding its breath.
“Excuse me?” Victor says at last.
I straighten. “I don’t know why I came back with you.
Actually, I do—it’s because I was scared.
And because I hate disappointing you, even if you don’t think that’s true anymore.
I’ve always wanted to make you proud. But if I can’t make you proud unless I’m following orders, then I guess I have to be okay with that.
I’m afraid of you turning me in for forging my lease, but I’m more afraid of where I’ll end up if I keep letting you decide how my life should go.
If you want to turn me in—if that’s what would satisfy you in this situation—then do it. I’m going home.”
“Blair, you are home,” Mom says.
“No,” I reply, heading for the stairs, “I’m not.”
Up in my room, I unhook my key fob from its ring and slide my credit card from my wallet, then return downstairs, where my parents are whispering fiercely at the dining room table. They go silent when I walk in, setting the key fob and card at the end of the table.
Neither tries to stop me as I leave the room and walk straight out to the backyard. There my phone finally auto-connects to the Wi-Fi from the house next door, where I used to babysit sometimes. The signal is weak, but it’s enough to get off a text to my friends.
ME
Anyone want to spot me the money for a bus ticket and order me an Uber to the station? Long story but my phone is basically bricked right now
Also I’m coming home
My phone buzzes immediately with a response.
JAMIE
You’re not taking a bus
Wait for me
My heart soars. For the first time all day, I feel a rush of cool relief roll through me.
I’m getting out of here. Jamie is coming. I’m going home.
It’s barely three hours later, and I’ve consolidated my belongings down to one container and two suitcases. I’m lugging them down the stairs when the motion-sensitive doorbell goes off, and Goose comes running from around the corner, paws scrabbling on the hardwood as he careens toward me.
Goose. My insides seize up as he stops, his tail wagging, and begins sniffing my suitcases.
“Goose!” Victor shouts from the other side of the house.
I turn toward the sound and am surprised to find Mom standing in the hall, watching me. She comes closer, taking Goose’s collar while he strains in her hold.
“Go,” she says to me without looking up from Goose. He whines, breaking my stupid heart.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him, scratching behind his ears as a lump forms in my throat. “I love you.”
I don’t know what will happen from here. If I’ll ever come back. If my parents will forgive me one day. If maybe, after a few months or a few years, we’ll be able to have a conversation about this.
I guess it all depends on what they do next. If Victor does turn me in, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive them.
And saying goodbye to Goose, not knowing when I’ll see him next, or if I’ll see him again… that sends a fissure of pain through me.
I take a deep breath and open the front door, tears pressing at the backs of my eyes. Mom still won’t look at me, and the sound of Goose pulling in her hold is enough to make me waver.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want our family to fall apart, but I also don’t know how to stop it when the only option they’ve given me is capitulating.
“Mom,” Sawyer calls, coming across the lawn as I lug my suitcases out the front door.
Mom ignores him. I grab my belongings, hefting them over the threshold, and then Jamie is there, pulling me into his arms. I grab on to him, and something in me loosens, the dam breaking. I let out a sob against his shoulder, clutching the back of his shirt.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, lips pressed to my temple. “I’ve got you.”
I’m so relieved, I’m weak with it. He’s here.
In fact…
I look past him, where another car is parked at the curb, Mikey, Andres, and Felicity spilling out.
They’re all here. For me.
I pull away, and as I do, Sawyer reaches us. Behind Mom, Goose lets out a bark of excitement, pushing his body into the backs of Mom’s legs as she tries to block him from running out the front door.
“Mom,” Sawyer says, “let me take him.”
Mom hesitates for just a moment, then shuts the door. Goose barks on the other side, frantic.
“Mom, please!” Sawyer calls, banging on the door.
No one answers, and Sawyer’s expression folds. He begins to cry, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. His breath shudders out of him.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice trembling.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He shakes his head, turning away to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.
“I got this,” Andres says, grabbing the plastic container. He hefts it up while Jamie grabs a suitcase, hesitating with one hand stretched toward me.
I pick up my last suitcase and take my brother’s arm with my other hand, pulling him with me as Goose’s barks pick up in intensity.
We’re halfway across the yard when Mikey reaches us, wrapping me up in their arms.
“Are you okay?” they ask, tugging my suitcase out of my hand.
“Yeah.” I wipe my eyes, unable to even look at my brother for how much my heart hurts now. “I’m okay.”
Behind us, the door opens again. Goose lets out another bark.
We all turn as he comes tearing across the yard, harness on, leash dragging behind him. Sawyer braces himself, and Goose jumps, as always, straight into my brother’s arms.
Mom lugs a bag of dog food out the front door and drops it on the porch.
“I got it,” Jamie says, jogging to her. When he gets there, she lingers, pulling the door nearly shut behind her. She says something to him that I can’t hear and then presses something into his hand.
He nods, tucking it into his pocket. Then he hefts the dog food into his arms and starts back to us. When he reaches me, he slides a plastic card out of his pocket and passes it to me.
“For emergencies,” he says.
It has Mom’s name on the back.
When I look to the porch, she’s gone.
Sawyer sets Goose down and peeks over my shoulder. When he sees what I’m holding, he says, “Maybe there’s hope for us after all.”
I glance at him, and he gives me a tentative smile.
“We’ll go with Andres,” he adds, taking Goose with him to the car, where Andres is loading my last bag into his trunk.
“We’ll take the Jeep!” Mikey calls.
Felicity grabs their arm, shooting us a quick look. “Um, Mike, why don’t we go with Andres too? You know, to get to know our new dog.”
Mikey looks from Felicity to us and back, their mouth opening in understanding. “Ohh, right, right, right. Our new dog.”
As they pile into Andres’s car, I follow Jamie to the Jeep, hiding my smile in his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he says, “they’re not subtle.”
As he backs down my driveway, he reaches over and holds out his hand, palm up. I slot our fingers together and squeeze.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he says as he returns both hands to the wheel.
“Oh yeah? Not too hard, I hope.”
He rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth hitching up. “A little. About that arrangement we had when you moved in.”
“Really.”
“It might be time to make a new one.” As he pulls up to a red light, he takes my hand again and squeezes. “Like, this time we’ll interact a lot. Every day, actually. I want to hear all your small talk, and I want you to pull me into every single one of your disasters.”
I laugh. “Okay—anything else?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking we’ll be two people who know each other really well, living in the same apartment, far past August. And if I get my scholarship and I’m the one who goes, you’re still stuck with me.”
“Wow. And what would we call this agreement?”
“Well, the first one was our roommate arrangement.” He leans over, brushing his lips against mine. “I was thinking this would be the girlfriend arrangement.”