Julian’s been with us for almost a month now, and yes, there were some adjustments, and yes, he still sleeps on my floor and refuses to leave the house, but things are better. I can see things getting better every day.
“I’m serious, Adam.”
“Please feed whatever this is with Julian.” I’ve lost my playful tone, and she catches it.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re the one who has to break up fights and find drama everywhere you go.”
She winces. “Is that what you really think?”
“You don’t need to worry about me. Julian’s the one this happened to.”
“I am worried about him. Of course I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you too. You’re leaving soon, and I just want—”
“I’m not leaving.”
“What?”
“I’m not going.”
“You’re not going to college,” she says flatly.
“Of course I’m going to college. I’m just not moving. I’m going to commute.”
“This is crazy. You can’t just—”
“I thought you’d be happy. All you ever talk about is how much you’re going to miss me.”
“I will miss you.” She sighs. “Very much. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to go.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Julian will be fine, Adam. I did a good job raising you, didn’t I?”
“Adequate.”
She laughs and mutters, “Punky Brewster.” Then she gets serious again, but I wish she wouldn’t. I’ve had enough serious to last a lifetime. “I know you want to take care of him. Everyone you’re close to…they all need you so much.”
For a minute, we don’t talk, just half-watch the final round till she says, “Someone like you has to be around people. You can’t be alone so much.”
“I’m not alone.”
She frowns at me like I’m deliberately trying to be difficult. “If you won’t go out, then have people over. You were planning that graduation party. You could still have it.”
“It’s a little late for that now.”
“Have one anyway.” She sounds way too insistent about something that doesn’t even really matter.
“I don’t know.”
“Just something small. It would be good for you. For both of you.”
“Yeah…maybe just a few people.”
“Like Emerald?”
“Maybe.”
IT’S A SMALL party compared to the one Emerald had back in December, only fifteen or twenty people, but the noise and chaos are still too much. I open the back door, and cross the yard to sit on the grass beneath a giant tree. Its branches dip low and wide, hanging around me like a curtain.
The last time I was outside was when we went to Russell’s house. Once we got home, Adam parked in the garage.
He keeps telling me I need fresh air, that sitting in front of the window like a cat isn’t the same. Part of me misses the sun and the way it felt to ride my bike as fast I could. But whenever I would imagine leaving, I’d see the blue sky like the ocean—no walls or shore or end in sight. And I’d see myself disappear.
Tonight, when all Adam’s friends arrived, I could tell how much they missed him. Most of them told him openly, and the others just kept watching him like they couldn’t get their fill of his face. They were nice to me too, almost but never quite hugging me, as if they were afraid touching would hurt me.
I breathe in deep. My lungs expand and it only hurts a little.
The air smells sweet, warm, real. Maybe Adam was right about going outside. It’s nice. I dig my fingers into the grass. Press deeper, into the soil, and I picture my mother standing on our old back porch, shielding her eyes from the sun.
I can still hear the music from inside, but I’m far enough away that it’s just a pulse without words. I close my eyes.
“Julian?” It’s the voice I’ve heard in my head like a rusty echo a million times.
My eyes fly open. Russell’s silhouette is near the open gate, just a few feet away. He begins walking toward me. I want to run or yell, but I can’t. I have absolutely no control over my body.
As Russell passes the back porch, the motion sensor light turns on, and I can see him clearly. Unshaved, unwashed, unhappy. He’s looking at me, and I realize that I have no control over my body because it’s not my body to control.
My eyes flick to the back door. He seems to know what I’m thinking. Quickly, he crouches down—then he springs all of his weight toward me. On me. One of his arms winds around my stomach, pulling my back into his chest, while his other arm encircles my neck. I can feel his heart against my shoulder blades, his chin on top of my head. I can smell him, bitter soil and sweat. He tightens his hold, both arms wrapped around me. It’s the closest to a hug we’ve ever shared.
“Why did you leave?” he asks. “You told me you wanted a chance, and you left.”
“I had to. Adam—”
His forearm tightens across my throat. “I’m the one who took you in. Me. But no matter what I do for you, you still hate me.”
I grab at his arm, twisting in his grasp. I can’t breathe.
Abruptly, he lets me go. I suck in a pained breath before turning around to face him.