Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
COOPER
L iesel’s trunk is packed . She has a twenty-four pack of water bottles, a couple of boxes of protein bars, road flares, space blankets, a tent, flashlights, and I don’t know what else, because there’s also a full hiking backpack.
“It looks like you raided a Costco and a DICK’S Sporting Goods. What is all that?”
The roll of her eyes is the fluttering give me strength kind of eye roll, and it makes me feel like I’m missing something. “Juliet and Nate.”
“Oh, right. The pipeline from the elevator to emergency preppers, right? That’s kind of sweet that they’re worried about you.”
“They weren’t worried about me . This was all in there when Nate gave me his Prius.” She sounds almost hostile as she drives out of the parking lot. But of all the ways Nate has possibly overstepped her comfort level, at least this one is practical. Ish.
“It’s nice that you have it, though. Aren’t you the kind of girl who likes to be prepared for everything?”
“Of course I want to be prepared, but I don’t know why I bother. No matter how much I prepare for something, I’m always blindsided.”
Somewhere in the two minutes since our goodbye, Liesel has gone from hot enough to melt snow to frostier than an icicle. A pointed icicle.
I just don’t know what the point is .
Or why it feels so stabby.
“It’s cold in here,” I say.
“We’re in the middle of a blizzard.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I tease.
We’re stopped at a light. Liesel turns her head to me so slowly, it’s something out of a horror movie. Slay Bells Ring , or Slaying All the Way .
I snort.
“Something funny?”
“I was just thinking of a good title for a vampire Christmas movie. Which is better: Slay Bells Ring or Slaying All the Way ?”
“That’s what you’re thinking?”
“No good, huh?”
She exhales a word. “Unbelievable.”
I look around me. “Did I miss something?”
“Nope.” She pops the last syllable. Hard.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“What you think doesn’t matter.”
I keep looking around me. Have I entered the Twilight Zone? Has Liesel been body-snatched? “Are you okay?”
“Super.”
“I can tell.”
She does that breathy scoff again and gives a small shake of her head. Her eyes are fixed on the road. There’s decent visibility, but the snow is coming sideways, and we’re not even to the freeway yet. The way she’s gnawing on the inside of her cheek makes me think she’s debating something internally.
My phone buzzes with an alert from JetWays. My flight has been delayed. “Crap,” I whisper. I’m putting my phone in my pocket, but then there’s another buzz.
“Excuse me,” I say to Liesel. “It’s my mom.”
Mom
Find a Friend tells me you’re on your way to the airport!
Cooper
There’s a flight delay, but yup. I’ll be home before you know it.
Mom
I can’t wait. It wouldn’t be Christmas without you.
Cooper
Back at you. I made sugar cookies, melt-aways, and gingersnaps the other night. I blew my date away.
Mom
Date??
Cooper
Don’t get too excited. I’m not sure she’s speaking to me right now.
Mom
Well, if your cookies didn’t win her over, she must have a frozen heart.
BTW, your dad and I have been watching your old games on my VR headset.
Cooper
You’re loving VR, huh?
Mom
I am! I took a road trip from the couch the other day. Route 66!
I did not like driving through Texas.
Boring!
And we hit a deer.
I struggle swallowing. These experiences she thinks she’s having aren’t real. I can only imagine how hard the last twenty years have been for her, occasionally making progress just to backslide again.
This isn’t progress.
It’s a nail in the coffin of hopes and dreams I haven’t let myself consider in years. Until now, I’m not sure I even realized they were still dwelling in the recesses of my mind. How do I respond to something she’s excited about that’s breaking my heart?
Cooper:
I’m glad VR is making you happy.
Mom
Oh, it is. I’ve loved all your games, especially that one against the Rockies. It felt like I was right there with you! Take that, Colton Spencer.
My thumbs hesitate over my keyboard. I don’t hint at troubles in my life because I don’t want to put more emotional burdens on her. I tell my dad, so it’s not like I have no outlet, but Mom is safe from my regrets.
But a glance at Liesel and her flared nostrils makes me drop my filter. Whatever has upset her, it has something to do with me. And girl troubles require a mom’s help.
Cooper
You know, not everyone liked me blowing him a kiss. Or the back flip at home plate.
Mom
Who cares what they think? You made that game so fun. You make baseball fun.
Cooper
Maybe I need to be more respectful.
Mom
To whom?
Cooper
Baseball? Fans?
Mom
What has you thinking this way? Did the team say something?
Cooper
No, just a friend.
Mom
Some friend.
Cooper
I’m serious. Maybe I need to stop being so showy.
Mom
You don’t have to make yourself smaller for a sport that’s been around for almost two hundred years. Baseball is big enough for you. If your “date” thinks otherwise, she’s an idiot.
Cooper
She’s not an idiot.
Mom
You’re the best part about the game.
Cooper
You’re nice, Mom.
Gotta run.
Love you.
Mom
Travel safely. I love you!
I put my phone away, feeling somehow even worse. I opened up the door a crack, looking for real advice, but my mom treats me like I can do no wrong, and I’m not sure it’s always helped me. I used to worry so deeply that I’d caused her anxiety and agoraphobia. I would obsess over what I might have done wrong. Was it because I was such a turd in elementary that she always had to come down to the school to talk to the principal? Did all my trips to the hospital for possible concussions and stitches overwhelm her? Did my high energy simply drain the life out of her?
I sigh. I hate thinking about my old worries. If I’m not diligent, they’ll flood back in, washing away my peaceful acceptance of my mom’s condition.
I close my eyes and focus on regaining my “radical acceptance” of reality. Mom is sick. It isn’t my fault. I can love her and accept her for how she is and not feel brokenhearted that she’s living her life through a virtual reality set instead of making efforts to live it in the real world.
This is just how it goes.
It is what it is.
Whatever stupid, trite saying you can think of, insert it here.
My eyes open. Nothing is working.
“This sucks,” I whisper to myself.
“Excuse me?” Liesel asks.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“No, by all means, say it louder.”
“It’s nothing. My flight was delayed.”
Her exhale speaks volumes. Unfortunately, it’s in a language I don’t understand.
“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” I ask.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Uh, I had a bad exchange with my mom?”
She makes a sound that’s half scoff, half growl, and all contempt.
AM I TAKING CRAZY PILLS?
I splay my fingers, my forearms and hands so tense, they shake. Her irritation is like a contagion. But while hers feels sharp and focused, mine is broad and unspecified. Nothing but a huge, exasperated cloud of confusion. “What are you so mad about?”
“Like you don’t know?”
“KNOW WHAT?”
She purses her lips, and her nostrils flare wide.
“Liesel! If something’s going on, say it!”
“ You say it.”
The noise that issues from my throat is intelligible. It can only be expressed in special characters: ampersands, asterisks, and at signs.
And a crap ton of exclamation points.
“Why are you being so insufferably vague?” I say.
“I’M BEING INSUFFERABLE?”
“YES!”
“ME?” Her wipers are having to go so fast to clear the snow, they’re almost a blur.
“OBVIOUSLY!”
“You would pretend you have no idea what’s going on. Well, I only have two words for you, Buddy .”
“That was like twenty words already.”
Her glare is sharp enough to pierce armor. “Kayla. Carville.”
I blink, wondering if I heard her right. “Huh?”
“Kayla. Carville.”
“I’m gonna need more words.”
“You know what?” she asks, gripping the steering wheel, her eyes on the taillights in front of us as we merge onto the freeway. “I’m glad this happened. I thought I had real feelings for you. I could have wasted months on you before realizing the truth.”
“The truth of what?!”
“That you are exactly who I thought you were.”
I bump my head on the dashboard. “Do I have a concussion?”
“Right. Blame everything except the obvious: you.”
I snap upright. Her Prius is going maybe thirty miles an hour on the freeway due to the blizzard conditions. The storm outside can’t compare to the storm in my brain.
“Liesel. I think it’s pretty clear that I have no idea what you’re talking about. If I’ve done something, do us both a favor and come out and say it.”
“Fine, I’ll say it. You got everything you wanted. You didn’t want my brothers on the team, so you made sure Kayla Carville acquired them. You win.”
“I repeat: huh?”
“Don’t act dumb, Coop! You’re a selfish tool, but you’re not dumb. You orchestrated this whole thing so you could get what you wanted. We’re probably not even signing Colt Spencer, are we?”
“No, we’re not.” Her mouth opens, like she’s speechless. “But it’s not what you’re saying! I didn’t tell Kayla to get your brothers! And it’s not my fault we’re not picking up Colt! The guy’s an idiot, and all I did was show Doug?—”
“You already talked to Doug? You are the most breathtakingly selfish man I’ve ever met! What was the point of us even spending that entire night working on the roster?”
“We were doing our job!”
“ I was! You were playing me!”
“I wasn’t playing you. And I still have no idea what’s going on!”
She sputters. “I can’t believe I thought we had something real. I can’t believe I wanted to kiss you.”
My ears perk up. “You wanted to kiss me? I knew it.”
“How can you be cocky at a time like this?”
“Because I don’t know what time it is!”
She shakes her head in tiny, rapid movements, breathing like she’s trying to get her anxiety under control. I should feel sympathy for whatever she’s going through, but I’m too confused, too annoyed, and too … angry, frankly.
“I cannot get you to the airport fast enough,” Liesel says.
“No, you can’t,” I agree.
“If I have to be stuck in this car with you for another minute, I’m going to scream.”
She takes her eyes off the road for only a second, so I see the red taillights in front of us a split second before she does.
“Look out!” I yell.
Liesel slams on her brakes to keep from colliding with the other car. She skids, one tire hitting ice, the others gripping the road. The motion causes her to fishtail a few feet, but she manages to stop before crashing. She’s at an odd angle, taking up most of the lane. But at least she stopped a few inches shy of the car in front of us.
“Nice save,” I grumble.
Red brake lights stretch before us as far as the eye can see. The visibility isn’t great, but it’s enough to show me that all three lanes going our direction are at a total standstill.
“Look up the traffic on your phone,” she says.
“Maybe don’t tell me what to do,” I say, even as I do as I’m told. But only because I was going to, anyway. I pull up my maps app and groan painfully.
“There’s an accident up a half mile. The road is closed.”
“WHAT?”
She throws the Prius in park and grabs my phone from me, reading the user-generated comments about the crash.
“‘Multi-car pileup ahead. Expect a long wait.’ ‘All lanes blocked. Avoid if possible!’ ‘Just passed the scene. Looks like a semi jackknifed. At least 20 cars involved.’ ‘A bus is blocking the exit ramp—no way out!’ ‘It’s going to be a cold night. Stay safe.’”
She drops my phone into my lap, looking shell shocked.
“Time to scream,” I say.
“What?“
“You’re going to be stuck in this car with me for a lot longer than a minute.”