In the Middle of Nowhere (11 page)

There were ten girls, in total, and we had
the room completely to ourselves. My mom, brother and Brian were
going to leave and sit at a table in the main dining. Before they
left, James, as usual, protested.

“Why can’t we stay in here with Willow?”

“I’m sure your sister would rather be alone
with her friends tonight,” my mom said as she pulled him by the
scruff of his neck.

My mother gave me a hug and a peck on the
cheek. “Have fun, dear.”

I hugged my mother back. “Thanks, Mom. I
will.”

My friends and I ate delicious Italian food,
gabbed, laughed and even gossiped. When it was time, they gave me
their full attention as I opened each of their gifts. We finished
the night with my favorite, double chocolate cake with chocolate
frosting. I savored the moment as my friends gathered around me and
sang, “Happy Birthday.” To me, for the first time in a very long
time, it really was.

• • •

I thanked each of my guests as their rides
arrived to pick them up. Some of the lucky girls even drove their
own cars to the party. I envied them and hoped my mom would let me
get my permit soon.

My mom paid the bill as Brian stood beside
her and the waitress. I thanked my mother, again, by hugging her
even tighter this time.

“You’re very welcome, Willow. I’m glad you
had a nice time.”

Brian drove us home and I actually thanked
him, too, for giving us a ride. I was so happy, I felt like I was
walking on air.

The three of us stood at the front door while
my mother unlocked it. Just as my mom and James started to walk in,
I noticed that there was mail stuffed inside our mailbox. I guessed
the mailman had delivered it late after all. I grabbed the pile
before I followed them inside and bolted the door behind me.

James and my mom went straight to bed while I
stood next to the front door flipping through junk mail, flyers and
bills. I was searching for my grandmother’s birthday card and
finally found it. I placed it on the very top and put the whole
stack on the antique side table so I could take off my coat and
scarf.

As I slipped off my jacket, my arm knocked
some of the mail onto the floor, including my grandmother’s card. I
bent over and collected the mail, but couldn’t find the card from
my grandma anywhere.

I got on my hands and knees and searched
around. It was nowhere to be found. How the heck could I have lost
a card I was holding just a few seconds before?

I ducked underneath the side table and
searched behind it. When I actually lay down flat on the floor, I
could see a white envelope and the corner of a red one stuck
between the table and the wall. I used my fingers to pry both of
them from their secret hiding place.

I recognized my grandmother’s handwriting on
the big white envelope right away and knew it was my birthday card,
but I was unsure whom the red envelope was from even though it was
addressed to me.

I opened my grandma’s card and smiled as I
read it and, like always, she sent me a generous check. She signed
it “Happy Anniversary, Willow. Love, Grandma & Grandpa.”

I put down the card and check and tore open
the mysterious small, red envelope. It was a Christmas card with a
picture of a fireplace and a decorated mantel on the front. I
opened the inside and read:

“Willow,

MERRY you will be,

on CHRISTMAS you will see,

the joy TO be given,

like our savior, YOU are risen.”

And it was simply signed, “Michael.”

When did Michael send me a Christmas card, I
wondered and how did it get stuck behind the table? I was puzzled
at first, but thought back and suddenly remembered how it had come
in the mail during Christmas break and I had intended to read it,
but hurried out because Tessa was waiting for me in the driveway.
It must have fallen off of the table like my grandmother’s card and
been wedged back there the whole time.

Now that I solved the mystery of its arrival,
I had to reread it to figure out what his words meant. More than
that, I was baffled because I hadn’t seen nor heard from him since
that terrible night on Thanksgiving. Why did he feel the need to
reach out to me at all when he clearly was pissed off at me?

At the very least, the unexpected card meant
that he was alive and, hopefully, doing well. Even so, why couldn’t
Michael just call me and say, “Hi!” like a normal person? Why did
he feel the need to send me a cryptic note instead, with a poem
that didn’t make any sense?

I read the note again and noticed that one
word in each line of the poem was capitalized. I kept rereading it
and when I finally pulled out just the capitalized words and put
them in a sentence, I realized that the message read:
“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU.”

Still, I was confused. It had been almost
three weeks since Michael had sent me the card and I hadn’t heard
another word from him in between. What was I to do? Thank him for
the Christmas card or send him one after the fact?

I quickly realized that I couldn’t have sent
him a card even if I wanted to because he didn’t write his address
on the envelope. I had even tried to look up his address online
through a free white pages website a while back, but there was no
listing for him or his family.

Why did Michael Cooper do this to me? I had
been feeling so joyful after my terrific birthday party, as if I
were floating on a cloud and, now, his stupid note had totally
burst my bubble and sent me crashing back to Earth.

I had moved on with my life and I thought
Michael would have, too. I wished I hadn’t dropped my grandmother’s
card. I never would have had to look for it and discovered it next
to the mysterious red envelope. Along with my feelings for Michael
E. Cooper it, too, would have been lost and forgotten forever.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

The Saturday after my surprise party, my mom
and I planned to take the ferry over to the mainland to go shopping
for the day. I wanted browse around and try on some new clothes. I
had received a lot of gift cards as birthday presents from my
friends to some of the hippest stores in Portland.

Originally Brian and my brother were going to
come along, too, but I told my mom I wanted it to be just us girls.
Eventually she agreed and, instead, Brian stayed back at our house
and watched my brother. This meant that Brian would, most likely,
be watching the back of James’s head as he sat anchored in front of
the television.

I told my mom that I thought James was
addicted to his games, and my mom just shrugged it off. She must
have realized this, too, deep down, but for my mom, it was all
about convenience. Besides me, James’s gaming obsession became a
safe, substitute babysitter to him.

On the boat ride over, I tried to stay as
warm as possible. My mom sat and read one of her many books she
downloaded on her new e-reader, a Christmas present from Brian.

I studied my mother as she sat and read. Her
face would become very expressive depending on what she was
reading, a frown, a smile or a grimace. Sometimes she would even
chuckle out loud, drawing the attention of the other passengers.
She kept on reading, though, completely engrossed in the words
before her and oblivious to those around her.

Watching my mother’s love for reading, I
thought back to the story about how I got my name. When I was
little, my father would tell it to me over and over again as part
of my nighttime routine. It was my favorite bedtime story.

My dad would make himself all comfortable and
prop himself up at the foot of my bed. He would retell the story of
how before he and my mom had kids, and at their first small, but
lovely house, my father had planted a very special tree in the
middle of their backyard. He had hoped that this tree would grow
wide and tall enough so that my mother could sit under it and take
refuge from the burning sun as she read and reread one of her many
treasured books.

He took very special care of this very
special tree by watering, fertilizing and pruning it whenever he
was supposed to. The tree did grow far and wide and my mother
relished the cool breeze that awaited her every time she sat
underneath it.

It was under this very same tree that my
mother told my father she was expecting their baby, the same tree
where her belly grew bigger and bigger as each month crept by. All
the while this special tree continued to grow and shelter my mother
and the unborn child inside her.

It was no surprise then that when my mother
delivered a healthy baby girl, they both knew, instinctively, that
they would call me Willow.

My mother and father hated leaving their
special Willow tree behind when they decided to sell our home after
James was born because the house had become too small. My father
snipped off a piece of the branch in order to make it into a
sapling hoping that it, too, could grow and thrive in our new
backyard.

Unfortunately the tree never took root nor
grew as he had planned. My mother didn’t have as much time to read
anyway with a young daughter and a new baby. Regardless, my father
had promised her that someday he’d plant her another special tree,
just like her favorite Willow from years before. But, like most
young fathers, life got too busy and he never got around to it.

As I laid my head back and closed my eyes, I
remembered the story of my name. Willow, Willow tree, a special
tree, I thought. I must have dozed off because before I knew it, my
mother was gently shaking my shoulder to wake me.

“Willow, dear, wake up. We’re here.”

• • •

All bundled up, my mom and I walked around
the streets of Portland. Even though the temperature never reached
above thirty-four degrees, it felt much warmer as the sun shone
brightly during what would normally be a gray and gloomy winter
day.

We went to most of the stores where I had
gift cards and I ended up buying some really cute outfits. My
mother and I even stopped and grabbed a bite to eat at an artsy
café where I recognized students from school working behind the
lunch counter. I had thought about getting a job now that I was
sixteen and shared this with my mom.

“Mom, I was thinking about filling out
applications on the island so I can earn some spending money.”

“As long as your grades don’t suffer,
Willow.” She took a dainty bite of her turkey croissant.

I sipped my raspberry iced tea as I
contemplated the right words to say. “The only problem is that
there aren’t many places for teenagers to work over on Pike’s. I
was thinking it might be easier to get a job over here in
Portland.”

My mother stopped chewing and stared at me.
“Don’t even think about it. It’s far too dangerous for you to be
taking the ferry back and forth by yourself, especially at
nighttime.”

“But—“

“No buts, Willow!”

I rolled my eyes and should have known better
than to ask. I thought my mom would welcome the fact that I wanted
to earn some of my own money so I didn’t have to ask her for any.
She probably just wanted to keep me stuck home so I would always be
available to babysit my annoying brother.

The clanking of dishes, glasses and
silverware were the only sounds I heard in that busy café because
my mother and I chose to finish our lunch in complete silence.

• • •

After hours of shopping and walking around
the city, I was actually exhausted. It was after five o’clock and
we were going to catch the next ferry back to Pike’s, but my mom
wanted to stop in a pharmacy to buy some antacid first.

I held the pharmacy door as she entered.

“Poor Mr. Rob—I mean Brian has been
experiencing some severe stomach problems lately,” she said as I
walked beside her. “I promised I’d pick up some medicine for
him.”

I shuddered inside. Did I really need to know
the trouble going on inside my mom’s boyfriend’s digestive system?
I didn’t want to hear any more gory details so I told my mom I’d
wait for her over by the magazine rack.

I was flipping through a fashion magazine
when a tall, dark movement caught my eye. I looked toward the
pharmacy counter and saw a boy dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt
and black jeans pay the pharmacist for his purchase. He collected
his change and quickly headed toward the exit. From behind, I could
have sworn it was Michael.

Without thinking, I ran across the store
toward the disappearing boy. I pushed open the glass door and
looked around. The street was bustling with activity and I couldn’t
find any trace of him. I searched all around, but could barely see
above the heads of the others on the sidewalk.

I gave up and went back inside the store. As
soon as I entered, a man approached me and took me by the
elbow.