“That’s fine,” I say. “But you shouldn’t throw them out here, anyway. Bad for the wildlife.”
“Wildlife? I don’t think coyotes are interested in pills,” he says with a smirk.
Normally I would shove him for making light of such a serious situation, but there’s nothing normal about this. He’s entrusting me with his biggest secret, and it all feels like a huge mistake.
Lionel dumps the pills back into one of the bottles and presses them both into my palm, staring at me hard before he lets go of my hand. “Promise you won’t tell them.”
I could lie. Say of course I won’t tell Mom and Saul, with every intention of bringing the pill bottles to their bedroom this evening. I could flat-out refuse, even though I know he’d throw the pills straight down the ravine as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
But I promise him the secret is ours, knowing full well that I will keep it from our parents because that is the sort of thing we do for each other. I’ll have the pills on hand if he needs them, and eventually, I’ll be able to convince him to go back on them.
There are different levels of trust, and I need to get back to the point where he trusts me so much he no longer has to say it aloud.
eight.
The week is hot and long, and in the middle of it, DeeDee asks me over to swim.
“I don’t have a good way to get there,” I say from my position on the floor. It’s the coolest spot up in my bedroom tower.
“Have Lionel come with you. It’s been forever since we’ve seen him.” Her voice seems sincere enough. She wants him around, and I’m glad. But I can’t forget that she ultimately gave up on Lion, too. He’s not DeeDee’s responsibility, but she knows how important he is to me, and I’m uncomfortable thinking of her debating whether or not to invite Lionel to things and eventually deciding not to bother.
“He has therapy this afternoon.” I move my legs out in a sweeping arc and then inward, again and again, making angels without the snow on my lavender rug. “And he’d probably say no. He’s not much into hanging out with anyone besides David Foster Wallace.”
“Who’s that?” DeeDee could talk for hours about the most famous and talented horn players in history, but she doesn’t have the same love for literature.
“A genius who killed himself.” That’s how Lionel described him to me so long ago, when he first discovered Wallace’s fiction in back issues of the New Yorker. And it didn’t occur to me then to be worried that he was so captivated by someone who’d decided he’d had enough of this world.
“Sounds uplifting. Well, I invited Emil, so can you grab a ride with him?”
I hang up without asking what I really want to know: Will Alicia be there, and if so, is she bringing Rafaela? I haven’t told DeeDee about her, and it’s been only a few days, but I haven’t heard from Rafaela about the job. It’s hard to forget about her with the flower arrangement she made staring me down every time I’m in my room.
I text Emil, but it takes me entirely too long to write a simple message. I wouldn’t have thought so much about it before, but now… things are different with him. And as I wait for him to respond, I wonder if it’s obvious that I’m starting to look at him in a new way or if he thinks I’m just asking for a ride. I set down the phone and dig through my closet for my stack of swimsuits, hoping my favorite one from last summer, the white one with the yellow polka dots, still fits.
It does, and Emil texts back right when I’m adjusting the straps, and my cheeks fill with heat, as if he’s standing here in the room with me. He’ll be by to get me in twenty minutes. I pull my dreads back in a ponytail, throw on shorts and a cover-up, and toss sunscreen in my bag before I walk downstairs to wait for him.
I run into Lionel on the stairs. He’s coming back from the kitchen with a cheese sandwich in one hand, his book in the other. I’ve been looking at him extra closely since he told me he went off his meds, but not enough time has passed to notice anything different—yet. He’s not staying in bed and he’s eating meals with us, and that is no small thing to be thankful for.
“Want to come swim at DeeDee’s after therapy?” I’m hopeful for a few seconds that he will surprise me, say he’ll meet me there, but he shakes his head.
“I don’t think I’m ready to see people yet. Maybe next time, okay?” He smiles as he says it, and I think this time the maybe is good, that I have a reason to be hopeful things can go back to how they were.
I have to keep asking him to do things. Especially now, especially since he’s gone off his meds. I know that’s when he’s most easily able to believe the lies in his head, the ones that tell him no one cares about him. Not asking seems like not caring, even if it’s not true.
Emil and I go straight to the back of the Sullivans’ house this time, passing DeeDee’s father’s old Land Rover parked in the driveway. We follow a stone path around the side of the house to an unlatched wooden gate. Emil holds it open for me and we round the corner to the backyard just as someone does a massive cannonball, sending water cascading onto the grass in front of the pool house.
I’m shocked when a green head pops up. Grace? She looks way too mellow for the display I just saw, but she takes high fives from the people in the pool around her, clearly proud. I look around for Rafaela, but she’s nowhere to be found.
My disappointment must be audible; Emil turns to me. “What was that?”
I shake my head as I do another survey, making sure I haven’t missed her in the pool or hanging off to the side. But I know I wouldn’t have missed her the first time. “Nothing, it’s just… hot.”
“It is. I’m going in.” He peels off his T-shirt, tosses it to the ground next to his towel, and jogs over to the deep end, slicing cleanly through the water. I’m alarmed to realize his hearing aids are still tucked behind his ears, then remember he said they were waterproof.
I try not to stare as he comes up shaking droplets from his shoulders, but my eyes don’t get the message. Emil has the sort of body they put on the covers of men’s magazines; I’ve always known he was in good shape, but watching him now makes my chest flush. His brown skin has taken on a golden hue in the sun, and I never noticed before, but there is something almost graceful about the way he moves. He knows how to use his long limbs and doesn’t walk around gawkily like some of the other tall guys our age.
“I would totally try to get with him if I liked dudes.” DeeDee comes up behind me so silently that I jump when she speaks.
“Hello to you, too,” I say, turning to look at her.
She’s wearing flowery board shorts over a red bikini and smells like coconut sunblock as she hugs me. “I’m just saying, I get why you’re looking at him like he’s your last chance on earth for sex.”
“Would you stop that?” I whip my head around to see if anyone is standing within earshot, but we’re safe.
“Relax, Suz. It’s okay to think he’s hot.”