Infinite in Between (19 page)

“COME IN,” GREGOR
said when he heard a knock on his door. He'd already shaved, and was just slipping an EpiPen in his backpack. Even though the ceremony was inside, he always carried an injection just in case.

Erica pushed the door open. She was wearing her cap and gown, her red hair hanging down her back. It was weird seeing Erica dressed for graduation. It made it so much more real that she was leaving for the University of Maryland in a few months. Ever since she'd quit smoking and started running again, she seemed much better. She and their mom were still arguing, but it wasn't as bad. Back over the winter Gregor was surprised neighbors weren't calling 911 on them.

“Mom just left to get Nana Margaret,” she said. “She'll be back for us in a few minutes. I haven't been in your room in forever. You still have that thing from Dad on your mirror?”

Gregor glanced at the Post-it that his dad had stuck on his mirror last summer, right before he'd died. It said,
Stay true to yourself
. A few weeks ago the sticky finally gave out and the note had fluttered to the floor. Gregor pressed it back into place with a curl of Scotch tape.

“Yeah,” Gregor said quietly. He was thinking about how his dad would never get to see Erica in her cap and gown. Gregor had stopped meeting with Jude a few weeks ago. They'd both decided he was done with therapy. Even so, it didn't mean the sadness wouldn't hit now and then.

“So this is random.” Erica plopped on Gregor's bed and pressed her thumbnail into a mosquito bite on her knee.

“What's random?” Gregor checked out the tattoo of a sneaker with wings that she'd gotten on her ankle on her eighteenth birthday. She'd done it to honor their dad, but their mom still flipped out, and they'd had a big argument over that one.

“Were you just looking at my tattoo?” Erica asked.

“Not really.”

“Whatever. I guess I don't care.”

“I actually like it,” Gregor said. “I don't agree with Mom on everything.”

“Anyway,” Erica said, shaking her head, “this is random, but I wanted to tell you something. You know that time Russell dumped me? Like, two years ago?”

“You were outside the band room,” Gregor said, remembering back to the last day of ninth grade.

“I never told you this,” Erica said, “but I actually came to the band room to look for you.”

“You
did
?”

“I needed to talk to someone I could trust. I just wanted you to know that.”

Gregor sat on the bed next to his sister. He was debating whether to hug her. He wanted to, but Erica wasn't the touchy-feely type.

“Now you know,” Erica said, standing up. “But don't get all emotional on me. No hugging.”

Gregor had to laugh.

Erica was walking to the door when she turned around. “Did you hear he got someone pregnant?”

“Russell?”

“It's a girl in your grade. Laurel. I guess she's due in October. He's such an asshole.”

Laurel was blond, jocky, and popular. She was part of Whitney's crowd.

“At least it wasn't you,” Gregor said.

Erica shrugged. “I guess there's always a silver lining.”

“WHAT TIME DID
you say Mona Lisa's getting here?” Brock asked, shading his eyes. The sun was still high even though it was five fifteen.

Jake reached for his phone, which was sitting on the railing of the deck. “Probably around six.”

“Da Vinci!” Ted and Brock shouted as they high-fived.

Jake rolled his eyes and looked out at Cayuga Lake. Ted had been to his cabin once before, but it was Brock's first time. Brock was Ted's best friend. They'd driven up together for Jake's seventeenth birthday. Mona Lisa was supposed to join them as soon as her flight landed and her grandparents drove her here.

Jake and Ted had been boyfriends for two months, and they were going strong. They were all drinking Coke and eating cherries, spitting the pits over the cliff. The sun was casting a glittering path of gold on the water. Ted and Brock were wearing swimsuits, their chests bare and tan. They were talking about football. Every now and then, Ted touched Jake's leg, sending warmth through his entire body. Even Brock didn't seem so bad right now. Jake had never been crazy about Brock. He was one of those loud popular guys. But he
was Ted's friend, so Jake was putting up with him.

Plus, the setup would be awesome if it worked.

Mona Lisa was going to text when she got to her grandparents' cabin down the road. Jake and Ted wanted Mona Lisa and Brock to hit it off. For one, they were both straight. For two, it would solve the friend-boyfriend problem. Ever since Jake had texted Mona Lisa about being together with Ted, she'd barely written him back anymore. Jake figured she was jealous, and Brock would be the perfect solution. Girls loved Brock. Also, if Mona Lisa and Brock became a couple, then maybe Jake's parents would let them all go camping in the woods and it wouldn't be so obvious that he and Ted wanted to spend the night together. Which they
really
wanted to do.

Did you land yet?
Jake finally wrote to Mona Lisa.
I thought I'd hear from you by now.

Yep,
she wrote.

Yep what? Where are you?

We're driving to the lake now.

“She's on her way,” he told Ted and Brock.

“Da Vinci!” Ted said, and Brock laughed.

Jake scratched at some paint stuck to his arm. “Remember not to call her that. She was named after the Mona Lisa, but she doesn't need to be reminded of it all the time.”

“She's definitely cute?” Brock asked.

“Yeah, she's cute,” Jake said. Mona Lisa had long curly hair and big boobs. Guys were always checking her out.

“But more important,” Ted said, “can she keep up with my man? The Brockman has some moves, you know.”

Brock nodded and swigged his Coke.

Jake shook his head. Sometimes he couldn't stand being around Ted when he was with his friends. It's like he was one person when they were alone. He was sweet, sensitive, and funny. And then with his buddies he turned into an alpha dude.

Ted and Brock are here,
Jake wrote to Mona Lisa.
Come on over for hot dogs and b-day cake.

Mona Lisa didn't text back. Finally, after five minutes, his phone pinged.

Just so you know,
she wrote.
I didn't say yes to this setup when you asked me before. I said I'd think about it. I'm actually not sure I want to.

But they're here,
Jake wrote.
Brock is right HERE.

Jake squinted at his phone. This was definitely not like Mona Lisa. She was always hooking up with random guys.

So you're not coming over?
Jake texted.

Remember what I said last summer? I said I can't deal with you having a boyfriend. I know I sound heartless, but I'm going to bail tonight.

“I've got to take a piss.” Brock stood up and crossed the porch.

As soon as he was inside, Ted leaned over for a kiss, but Jake pulled away.

“What's wrong?” Ted asked, shading his eyes with his palm.

“Mona Lisa was texting. She doesn't want to meet Brock.”

Ted clapped his hands and started laughing.

“What?” Jake asked, confused. Just minutes ago everything was falling into place. Now it was falling apart. Not to mention that after years of listening to Mona Lisa blabber about her boyfriends, Jake couldn't believe she wouldn't even come over to meet his. It felt
as if he was losing his oldest friend right before his eyes, like she was making him pick friendship or relationship.

“Sorry,” Ted said. “It's just awesome that a girl is saying no to Brock. His ego needs some bruising.”

Ted popped a cherry in his mouth. He spit the pit toward the railing, but it toppled onto his foot.

“See how far you can get a pit,” Ted said, gesturing to the bowl. “It's going to be easy to beat me.”

This was what Jake loved about Ted. He yanked him back from the abyss. Jake set down his phone and picked two cherries. He chewed around the pits and then blasted them out of his mouth while Ted cheered him on.

THE CHEERLEADING EXTRAS
were onscreen for about two minutes throughout the entire movie. But whenever they came on, everyone in the audience screamed. Whitney and a bunch of other people were at a private screening of
This Is My Life
. It was over at Downing College, where Whitney's dad was a professor. People were saying the movie was never going to make it to theaters. This was their chance to see it before it died forever.

“You look hot up there,” Lucas whispered in her ear. He flicked his tongue around a bit. “I'd do you.”

Whitney wriggled away from Lucas and wiped the spit off her earlobe. She was honestly surprised by how pretty she looked shaking those pom-poms. That was only a year ago, and yet it felt like she was watching someone
else
with mocha skin and a wide smile, someone who had all the answers. And there was Autumn cheering alongside her. That was back when Autumn's hair was long. Back when they were still best friends.

“Anytime you want to,” Lucas said, running his hand across Whitney's leg, “you know where to find me.”

Whitney pushed his hand off her leg.
God!
Why did Kyra's
cousin have to come over and sit with her? She couldn't believe she was ever with him.

When the lights came on, Lucas slugged her arm. “I've got to split. Work.”

As soon as he was gone, she saw Autumn and Zach making their way to the exit. Laurel was lumbering behind them. Six months pregnant, she was wearing a loose sundress and her blond hair was pulled into pigtails. Whitney had a quick image of summer soccer with Laurel before ninth grade, racing around the field in their brand-new cleats.

“Hey, Whit,” Autumn said, waving. “You didn't tell me you were coming.”

“You didn't ask,” Whitney said. She didn't mean to sound frosty, but that was how it came out.

Autumn raised her eyebrows at Zach.

“What's up?” Zach asked.

Whitney shrugged. “What'd you guys think of the movie?”

“It was sort of dumb,” Autumn said. “But it was cool to see us all up there. You looked great. It's annoying how great you always look.”

Whitney wasn't sure how to take that. “You looked good too,” she said.

Autumn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, if you ignore my huge honker.”

Laurel sighed heavily and shifted from one leg to the other.

“How're you feeling?” Whitney asked.

Laurel stretched her hands over her swollen belly. “Huge.”

“I heard it's a boy.”

“Yep.”

The screening room was stuffy and hot. Whitney fanned her cheeks.

“What are you up to now?” Autumn asked.

“I have to pack,” Whitney said. “I'm leaving for NYU tomorrow. Summer theater program.”

“Oh yeah,” Autumn said. “I forgot. Have fun. Don't forget to text.”

They all walked toward the exit together.

“We're voting on baby names,” Laurel said as they reached the parking lot behind the film center. “Hunter or Aidan?”

“What has more votes so far?” Whitney asked.

“Hunter. Definitely.”

Whitney clicked the key to unlock her dad's car. “I'll go with Aidan.”

EXACTLY A YEAR
after his dad died, Gregor's grandmother was going into a nursing home. Ever since Nana Margaret had broken her other hip last fall, things had gone downhill. She was forgetting to drink water and getting dehydrated, and she barely knew who they were most days. Even though Nana Margaret was his dad's mother, his dad had been an only child. That was why Gregor's mom was handling the details. What Gregor kept hearing her tell people was, “We're waiting for a bed to open up for Margaret.”

A bed.
That killed Gregor. All he could think was how you spend your life filling the rooms of your house, opening and closing your pool, expanding your world. And then, in the end, you're reduced to a bed.

In early August a bed opened in room twenty-seven of the Cedar Hill Center. A few years ago, back when Gregor's family could laugh about sad things, they'd driven by Cedar Hill and joked about how depressing places always have a tree (pine, cedar, oak) and a natural location (hill, grove, valley) in their name.

They'd gotten the call from the nursing home director on a Monday. On a sunny Thursday morning Gregor's mom, Erica, and
Gregor drove Nana Margaret to Cedar Hill. In the trunk they had two suitcases, sheets, a humidifier, and a copy of
The Joy of Cooking
, which was tragic because Nana Margaret insisted on taking it yet she wasn't ever going to have a kitchen again. In Gregor's lap he was holding a box with framed pictures of Gregor's dad when he was little, and of Gregor and his parents and sister. Whenever Gregor looked at the photo of the four of them on their deck the summer before he started high school, his throat squeezed tight.

Nana Margaret was in the backseat next to Erica. She was humming “Hey Jude” by the Beatles. Gregor thought about the therapist he'd seen for most of junior year. He tried to figure out what Jude would say about today. She'd probably say,
It's terrible, but there's no way around it. The only way out is through.

They pulled into the parking lot of Cedar Hill. Gregor, his mom, and Erica climbed out. Nana Margaret was still in the car. It almost looked like she was smiling.

“This is too much,” Erica said to their mom. Her face was pinched like she was going to cry.

“Want to wait in the car?” Gregor's mom asked. “It'll be a while.”

“I'm just going to run home,” Erica said. “I have my phone.”

Erica stretched her hamstrings and then took off onto the road. Sometimes Gregor hated the way Erica did whatever she felt like without caring how it affected other people. It wasn't like he
wanted
to be here, but he wasn't going to leave his mom alone.

“I'll take Nana Margaret to registration,” Gregor's mom said, helping his grandmother into a wheelchair. “Can you go ahead of us and make her bed? I think that'll help her feel more settled when she sees her room.”

Gregor lifted up the plastic crate with the sheets. That was when he almost lost it. Inside the container he could see her faded floral comforter. He thought about all those times that he, Erica, and Nana Margaret had snuggled in her bed under
this
blanket, watching movies and eating popcorn. Like it would go on forever. Like it would never end.

Forty-five minutes later they kissed Nana Margaret good-bye.

“Give my love to Charlie,” she said, smiling at them with her milky brown eyes.

Charlie was his
dad
. Gregor looked questioningly at his mom, but she took his elbow and squeezed it.

“It's harder for us than for her,” she said as they buckled their seat belts and pulled away from Cedar Hill.

Gregor wiped back a few tears. “How do we know?”

“I guess we don't for sure. I just think so.”

Neither of them said anything. His mom was dabbing her eyes as she drove.

“We need corn,” she said, pulling into a farm stand on the outskirts of Hankinson.

Gregor nodded. The farm stand was in a valley full of maple trees. Nearby there was probably a hill with cedars.

“Why don't we ever call things what they are?” he asked as his mom shifted into park.

“What do you mean?”

“There weren't any cedar trees at Cedar Hill. Or hills. It should just be called The End.”

They shucked six ears of corn, and then they grabbed cucumbers
and fuzzy warm peaches, a muddy bunch of carrots, even cilantro. They loaded two baskets so full, they had to balance the blueberries on their arms.

“It's not the end,” Gregor's mom said as they set their fresh produce across the backseat where Nana Margaret had been an hour ago. “It's life. Life goes on.”

Gregor didn't say anything. There was nothing left to say.