That night I passed up invitations from Connor and Brian so I could stay at Lilah's house. I sat in her backyard on the swing beneath the oak tree that faced the back of the house. It was hung for a child, too low to the ground for me to go very high. I used my foot to push off the ground, rocking the swing back and then letting gravity carry me forward again. Harvey lay on the grass at the foot of the tree, content to study me as I studied the yard.
The dormant flowerbeds scattered across the yard were as much a part of my childhood as they were Lilah’s. I’d beg and beg to taste the strawberries every season and one time, when I’d assumed Lilah was busy across the yard, I’d reached down and yanked the biggest one off the vine. Just as the sweet juice slipped across my tongue, the sharp sting of cold water hit the side of my face. Lilah had turned the hose on me and I’d learned my lesson.
I sat out on the swing until it started to rain, but I didn’t care. It was the lazy kind of rain that couldn’t catch me on the swing; the fat drops were too slow. I kept pushing myself back and forth, letting my mind wander to my mom. It’d been raining the last time I’d talked to her. It was the night of the annual summer carnival up at the school. My dad and I were leaving early to help with setup and I’d almost left the house without telling her bye. I thought about that a lot lately, how it’d been such a fluke. She’d caught me at the bottom of the stairs, just as I was about to walk out the door.
“Chase, make sure your dad doesn’t lift anything too heavy. He threw his back out last year setting up the dunking booth.”
I rolled my eyes and nodded, anxious to get to my friends, but she caught my arm.
“Be good,” she said, tapping the brim of my baseball cap with her finger.
I smiled, despite the cap falling down to cover my eyes.
It wasn’t an official goodbye. She hadn’t told me she’d loved me, but I didn’t focus on that. I knew how much she loved me. She’d told me every day.
For months after that night, the what-ifs had kept me awake at night. What if she'd never gone back home from the carnival? What if the ambulance had arrived faster?
I wasn’t the only one battling a losing fight against what-ifs. My dad had started drinking the day of the funeral and he’d never stopped. Death can do strange things to people. It can turn a man I'd admired my whole life into a guy I’d avoid if I saw him on the street.
Elaine Calloway had stolen both of my parents from me. Maybe I should have hated Lilah for being a part of her, but I couldn’t. Lilah was good. She was beautiful and she created beauty with her garden. Out of such terrible things, the muck and the mud, Lilah had come to be. Life had done its best to stomp her back into dust, but I wouldn't let it happen.
Her light flickered off in her room, replaced with the glow from her lamp. I watched her silhouette move in front of the window and I realized that whatever love my mom had held for Elaine was the same love that tied me to Lilah.
I pushed off the swing as rain continued to hammer down around me. Harvey hopped up and followed me as I headed inside, up the stairs, and toward Lilah's room. Her door was cracked open and through the space between her door and the doorframe, I could see her reading on her bed. I knocked gently and then pushed the door open a crack. Harvey pushed it open even more and ran straight for her, resting his damp snout next to her pillow.
She smiled and flipped her book down onto her chest to mark her page.
“He's all wet,” she said, glancing over at me.
I rested my head on the doorframe. “We were outside when the storm started.”
She nodded, dragging her hand up Harvey's snout, over his head and behind his ears.
I thought of asking her about the book she was reading, but I had something I needed to do.
I turned and headed into the room across the hall, closing the door after Harvey had followed me inside. It was late, but that didn't stop me from pulling my phone out of my pocket to call my dad. I figured he might be awake, but after it rang and rang and he still didn't answer, I left a message.
“Hey Dad, this is Chase. I haven't talked to you for a few days so I wanted to catch up and see how you were doing. Everything's good at Lilah's house, but I was wondering if we could go to dinner or something this week. Give me a call back if you get this.”
I hung up and stared down at my phone, wondering if he'd ever be sober enough to check that message. Probably not. I tightened my fist around the cheap phone and then threw it onto my bed. It bounced off and hit the stack of boxes in the corner, the boxes I tried to avoid.
I bent to retrieve it and caught sight of Elaine’s name scrawled in Sharpie across the bottom box. It was there every time I glanced at the boxes, a daily reminder of the woman I hated most in life. I took a pen from my desk and scratched at her name, covering it with angry black strokes until I couldn’t read it any more.
She didn’t deserve to be remembered, not by me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lilah