“About Amy,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
If he was surprised I knew her name, he didn’t show it. He put his blinker on and followed the curve into the parking lot. We were quiet as he pulled into a space at the back of the lot.
We were early for pickup, and I opened the door and got out of the truck, finding the small space claustrophobic.
I leaned against the bumper and watched the campers run around on the field in front of us. I tried to find Kat, but my eyes were tired from crying, and their small bodies all looked the same from where I stood.
I felt the truck dip when Alex got out. I watched as he hoisted himself up on the hood and slid his legs over until he was sitting next to where I was standing.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
I turned my eyes back to the field. All the emotion of the day had worn me out.
“Look, Jess. I’m not defending myself, but my mother didn’t know Amy and I had broken up before we even moved. I guess that’s why I didn’t tell her about you. I didn’t want to have to explain what happened with Amy.”
“So she was your girlfriend?”
“For four years. Since we were freshmen in high school. We were in over our heads. Both of us. She was . . . is important to me, but . . .”
I caught the tense change. “Is that why you went home? For her?”
“When I decided to go to college up here, we agreed to see other people. She’s going to college in Florida, and we didn’t want to start lying to each other. But now that I look back on it, it was me pushing the idea.”
“How come?”
“Amy was great, but the only thing we ever did together was go to parties or . . . stuff . . .” He leaned over and tied his sneaker, even though it wasn’t untied. Then he untied and retied the other sneaker. When he straightened, his cheeks were red, and he didn’t meet my eyes. I got the message of what stuff he was talking about.
“I sort of wanted to just be alone. To figure things out. And then I met you, and, well . . .”
I snorted. “Don’t sound so enthused.”
He nudged me with his elbow. “Cut it out. What I mean is that getting in another relationship was the last thing I was looking to do. And then you came along, limping up my street. And then that night on the couch with you, I realized I was really into you. And it freaked me out.”
I felt my heart race; the palms of my hands grew wet.
“Anyway. I went home to tell Amy that it wasn’t just a break for me.”
I looked at him, waited for him to continue.
“Being here, meeting you. It’s different. It’s like a fresh start, you know? Just . . . I don’t know how to explain it . . . sort of like there are things I didn’t even know existed.”
“Things in Maine?” I asked.
“No,” he said, surprised, as if it had just dawned on him. “Things in me.” He made a small self-conscious noise, fiddled with his hat. “Anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Amy. I was sort of lying to myself that I thought of you as just a friend until I kissed you. And then . . .”
“. . . And then you fell off the face of the earth,” I finished for him.
“Well, that I can explain. Look.”
I squinted at him, blocking the sun with my hand. He dug in his pocket, held the tab of the key ring up to me.
“You got the apprenticeship.” I smiled.
“That’s where I was all last week. They wanted to meet me, show me around. I didn’t want to tell you in the shop when I came to say good-bye. I just wanted to put all that other stuff behind me first.”
“It’s like another country up there,” I warned.
“I heard. Some girl told me that.” He looked at me. “Too far for a girl to come visit?”
“I don’t think friends visit. I mean, that seems serious.”
“How about friends that do this?” he asked, pulling me into him, his legs on either side of me. I felt his lips on mine, gently, his eyes open, looking right at me. After a minute, I pulled away, turned, and leaned between his legs, my back against him. His fingertips rested on my hips. His knee was next to me, and I reached out and traced the scar with my fingertip, the skin even softer than I imagined.
On the field, a whistle blew, and we looked over to see groups of kids lining up behind their counselors, ready to go home for the day. Alex nudged me forward and slid off the car, and we walked toward them, his hand brushing against mine.
I caught Kat out of the corner of my eye and watched her skip over to us. Her counselor was waiting with a clipboard, and I walked over and signed my initials next to Kat’s name on the sign-out sheet. When I turned, Kat was giving Alex a high five.
“You’ve met,” I said.
“She scored the winning goal in the soccer game.” He held out his hand again, and Kat slapped it even harder this time. He winced and shook it playfully.
“Where’s Mom?” Kat asked me. I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She studied my face. She stopped walking and looked from me to Alex and back at me. I thought I saw her hold her breath.
A year passed in my mind. The flashing lights of the ambulance outside my house; my mother asleep in Kat’s bed; my father walking into the kitchen behind me whispering, Jess, that’s not your mess.
I thought of my mother, crying in the hospital, giving me permission to tell Kat the truth this time. But now Kat was looking at me, waiting for me to say something. The corners of her mouth began to droop, her smile fading, creases of worry beginning to form on her forehead.
I looked into her eyes and thought of what she’d been through. How they were the eyes of a girl who got off the bus one summer day and found out her baby sister was never coming home. How they were the eyes of loss. And they were looking at me, waiting.
I thought of my mother, crying in the hospital, talking about protecting us.
Suddenly I knew what to tell Kat. I took her hand and swung it as we walked to the car.
I told her the truth. That our mother was with our father. And soon, they were coming home together.
?23
Hope
An hour after Jess and Alex left, Dr. Schmidt came to get me. I left Boon and my mother sitting in the waiting room and followed the doctor to a small room, where he shut the door and delivered Jack’s prognosis. The pneumonia had been so advanced that he had a lung abscess. They’d drained it, but if he didn’t respond to the antibiotics, part of his lung would have to be removed. But that wasn’t the worst of it. His blood pressure had been sky-high when he’d been brought in, and now it was only moderately better. Jack was on medication for both issues, but Dr. Schmidt stressed that the most important thing Jack needed now was rest, and not just for a week or so. Prolonged rest was how he put it.
“You know Jack, right?” I sighed. “What are the odds that he listens?”