Before You Go

TEN

Noah wasn’t happy with my answer. Or the way I left him in the office. In fact, he’s given me the silent treatment all week. It’s okay. It’s what I wanted.

So I continue to make myself invisible, maintain a low profile, float through my days on campus—with the exception of Professor Sands’ class—and try to keep my panic attacks at bay.

By the end of the second week, I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally spent. After class on Friday, I rush home, climb into my bed with iPod buds in my ears and a chocolate bar in my mouth, and shut myself off from the world. I doze in and out for the next hour.

I’m still in my warm little nest when five rhythmic knocks on my apartment door give my dad away.

Great. A surprise visit.

“Hey, Dad.” I open the door, instantly feeling him taking inventory. Is she eating? Sleeping? Exercising? How’s her mood?

He stands in my doorway with his button-down shirt hanging open, revealing some obscure ’80s concert tee. He’s humming an old Ramones song. He’s been doing that ever since I moved here. It must calm him before he has to deal with his emotionally disturbed offspring, but he’d never admit it.

We plop on my couch and Dad leans in to put his lips to my forehead. “Congrats, Tab! You made it through the second week. How it going so far?”

“It’s fine, Dad.” I try to be as pleasant as possible. Dad’s been through a lot with me these past few months. Not only was I completely silent my entire stay at New Beginnings, I didn’t break out of my protective, taciturn shell until I was here a month. Now I’m trying, and I’ll continue to try. For him.

And, maybe, even for me.

“You know, Dad.” I bump his shoulder. “You don’t need to have these motivational house calls at the end of each week.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay, honey. You’ve been through a lot, but I want you to know you’re going to get through this, Tabitha. You will.”

It’s Dad’s mantra. I think he hopes if he says it enough, it will be true. I nod and Dad takes hold of me. I rest my head on his chest—there’s no denying he makes me feel safe. After all, it was Dad who picked up the pieces and brought me back to the land of the living.

“School is going surprisingly well, actually,” I tell him.

“I’m so happy to hear it,” he says. “And Noah says your work at the paper is impeccable.”

“I don’t know about that.” I laugh. “I’m just posting articles for the electronic edition. It’s not rocket science. So what are you and Amy up to this fine evening?”

He looks at me with a funny grin. “Well, we were hoping to have you join us for dinner.”

“Not tonight, Dad,” I say, feeling guilty for declining after he came all the way over here.

“Please, honey.” The grin doesn’t leave his face.

What is he up to?

“I’d hate to break the news to Michael.” He pulls back his sleeve to look at his watch. “And he should be arriving at the house any time now.”

“What?” I grab Dad’s shirt. My stepbrother isn’t supposed to visit until next week.

“Yep.” Dad laughs. “He wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Mission accomplished,” I say, as the weight of the week lifts, just a bit.

#

“You look good,” Michael says when he arrives. He missed our last two visits over the summer because he was touring colleges. My very public downfall in Illinois had been hard on Michael too. He was the one who had to live it with me every day, whether or not he wanted to. He was able to finish the school year, but he hasn’t been back since. And he hasn’t picked a new school yet. So, he’s behind. Just like me.

“You look so much better,” Michael says. Then he gives me a shove and laughs.

I try not to wince thinking about all the pain I caused him. Those memories find their way into this nice family scene and threaten to ruin my night. I vow not to worry about that in this moment, I’ll just enjoy my brother.

Brother.

It feels good to finally see him that way. Our relationship had always been on the rocky side, until we both started college…too soon after, I ruined everything.

We celebrate Michael’s visit to Minneapolis with Amy’s homemade lasagna. Michael wolfs it down, I don’t think he’s ever gotten used to my mom’s cooking—all organic, low fat, and fufu. He’s still living at home with Mom and Stephen until he decides on a school, so he takes full advantage of this treat. In between mouthfuls, he asks me about my classes and I can tell he scrutinizes each answer I give him, looking for any hidden meaning. He’s all covert, it’s pretty funny.

After dinner, I offer up my services to do the dishes with Amy. That way Michael will have the time to grill Dad like I know he wants to.

The guys casually walk back into the kitchen once the dishes are done and Michael seems satisfied with the information Dad gave him. It’s almost like he can sense my newly found peace. I feel his kid-gloves coming off when he grabs my sleeve and hauls me toward the door.

“Come out with me,” he says.

“Where?”

“Out.”

Not waiting for an answer, Michael pulls me into the night.