Instead of You (8 page)

   “Then it’s all settled.  We’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven thirty.”  She stood up and I did the same, reaching my hand out to her.

   “Thank you again, I really appreciate it.”  She smiled at me, shook my hand, then turned and left the coffee shop.  I collapsed back into my chair, hands coming instantly to run through my hair, breath leaving me in one long and exhausted exhalation. 

   “Shit,” I whispered harshly, my eyes on my shoes, elbows on knees, head in hands.  “Shit.”

   Somehow I was going to have to make it through the next five months as the teacher of my dead brother’s girlfriend. 

   The girl I’d known her whole life. 

   The girl I’d been in love with, in one way or another, since I understood the word and what it meant.

Chapter Seven

McKenzie

   Cory had driven me to school for the last year and half.  Even though it was, in the grand scheme of things, not the worst thing to happen, stepping up onto the school bus was a terrible way to start the day.

   Everyone’s eyes were on me; their sad eyes with concerned expressions.  I was so tired of everyone looking at me like I was going to burst into tears at any given moment.  It felt so displaced. 
I
hadn’t died.  I hadn’t lost a son, or a brother.  But then I remember what everyone
thought
I’d lost: my boyfriend, the love of my young life, my future, my other half.

   Do you know how hard it is to mourn when you’re not sure what it is exactly you lost?

   I felt Cory’s loss profoundly.  I missed his laugh, his jokes, his kindness, his friendship.  But I hated myself because I didn’t miss the other parts of him.  In fact, part of me, a part I was so scared to acknowledge or give a voice to, was glad the option of being with him forever was taken from me.  I never would have turned him down, would have spent my life hoping to love him in some way I wasn’t sure I was capable of, but the man with a gun made that decision for me.  And I hated myself for being even remotely grateful for such a fantastically horrible thing.

   So all those people who looked at me as though they felt sorry for me, well, it made me sick because I didn’t deserve any of it.  I was a horrible person.

   I found an empty seat, sat down, and curled my body toward the window, hoping it would give off the right message: I didn’t want to be bothered.

   Holly, Becca, and Todd were all waiting for me when I walked off the bus, all wearing identical pitying faces.

   “Hey, McKenzie.”  Holly greeted me first; she was the most outgoing of the group, the one most likely to talk at inappropriate intervals.

   “Hey, guys,” I said, adjusting my messenger-style bag on my shoulder.  Becca stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.  I let myself take the comfort she offered and tried not to shrug out of her embrace too early.  I loved my friends dearly, and they’d been really great since Cory died, but I didn’t want that day to be about what I’d lost.  I wanted to focus on going back to normal, or building a new normal.  Something besides focusing on all the sadness.  I’d had hours and hours of sadness as I lay in bed at night, unable to sleep more than an hour or two.

   “Are you doing okay, Kenz?  Is it too hard to be here, you know, because it reminds you of Cory?”  Holly’s question was met with glares from Becca and Todd.  I tried not to let her question get to me; I knew she meant well.  Holly just lacked the part of her brain that evaluated the effect her words might have.  She was never purposefully inconsiderate, perhaps just too curious and just maybe lacking a little tact.

   I think my friends were expecting me to have some sort of nervous breakdown as soon as I stepped foot onto the asphalt.  Expected a new wave of devastation to roll through me.  As if just existing in the aftermath wasn’t devastation enough.

   “Holly,” I said, trying to mask a little of my irritation, fully aware I wasn’t doing a great job.  “Every single piece of my life was intertwined with Cory’s.  I can’t enter a room at my house that doesn’t have a piece of him in it.  My bed, my living room, even the freaking tree house in my backyard are
filled
with Cory.  He’s everywhere.  So, no, being here isn’t too hard. 
Life
is too hard right now; this is just par for the course.”

   “She’s just worried about you,” Todd said, defending his girlfriend.  “We all are, Kenzie.  Is there anything we can do to make this easier for you?”

   I forced a smile.  “No. I’m sorry, Holly.”  And I was.  I didn’t want to snap at anyone, I just wanted to progress, to move forward.  “Let’s just get on with it.  This is life without Cory, and I can’t hide from it forever.”  I looked down at my fingers gripping the strap of my bag, knuckles turning white.  “He wouldn’t want that anyway.”

   “You’re right,” Becca chimed in, the smile evident in her voice. 

   It hit me just then that I wasn’t the only one without Cory.  Everyone was dealing with his loss.  I immediately felt shame for being so selfish all morning.  “Are you guys all doing all right?”

   “It was weird the first couple of days,” Todd said, putting his arm around Holly’s shoulders.  “Everyone was in shock and talking about it a lot.  The counselors made sure everyone knew if they needed to talk to them, their doors were open.  It was just, I don’t know, sad.  But slowly it’s all gone back to normal.”  He paused and as a group we all started migrating toward the building.  “But I think when everyone sees you again, it might be a little crazy.”

   “Crazy?” I asked, confused.

   “Well, I think you might be somewhat of a spectacle,” Becca said, holding open the door for all of us.  I gave her a questioning look, still not sure what they were talking about.  “It’s always been you and Cory.  No one has really seen you since he died, so seeing you might make people act weird.”

   “Nothing too crazy,” Holly jumped in, “just people staring, maybe asking you questions.  We just want you to be prepared.”

   “Okay, well, I appreciate it.  But I just want everything to level out.”

   “Just let us know how we can help.”  This came from Todd, Cory’s best friend.  I looked at him then, really looked at him, and I could see the residual sadness.  He looked tired, his hair a little longer than he usually wore it, shaggier, and he was missing something, some lightness that he usually carried around with him.  I wasn’t the only one who’d lost a friend.  They were suffering right along with me.  And yet, they were all there offering to help me in any way they could.

   I didn’t deserve them.

   “Thank you, guys, I appreciate all your concern.”  I turned and headed up the small staircase that would lead me to the senior hallway where all our lockers were located.  “Just make sure you save me a seat at the lunch table and I’ll be fine,” I said, adding a laugh.  It was a forced one, sounding totally fake, but it was the best I could do at that moment.

   As was usually our routine, Todd kissed Holly good-bye, and he left with Becca.  They had first period together, while Holly and I had our first class together on the other side of the school.  As they said their good-byes, I absentmindedly turned the dial on my locker and pulled it open.

   I was face-to-face with my favorite picture of Cory and me.  It was taken at a prom after-party from the previous spring.  One of Cory’s friends from the swim team had invited nearly the entire school to his house, claiming his parents were out of town, so everyone would be chaperone-free.  We all brought tents and made campfires and had the best time.

   I don’t remember who took that photo of us, but I remember it being posted on Facebook and making me smile immediately. 

   Cory and I were sitting on a log next to each other, both of us with a red plastic cup in our hands, both of us in sweatpants and t-shirts, and we were laughing hysterically.  It was a moment caught in time in which we were both completely carefree, young, and happy.  I also remembered why I liked it so much the first time I saw it; Cory wasn’t touching me. 

   He didn’t have his arm around me, we weren’t holding hands, he wasn’t pulling me to his side and kissing my temple, like he so often had.

   We were just sitting next to each other, laughing.  And we looked like the best of friends.

   I grabbed the book I knew I’d need for my calculus class and slammed the door to my locker shut, the loud bang echoing down the emptying hallway.

   “Everything all right?” Holly asked, giving me another concerned look.

   “Yeah,” I lied, “I’m just not looking forward to catching up in math.”

   “Don’t worry,” she said as she looped her arm through my elbow, “Mrs. Williams will go easy on you.  All your teachers will.  Everyone wants to help you, not make your life harder.”

   I hoped she was right.

   The day went pretty much as my friends predicted.  Whispers and long faces met me at every turn.  People who used to give me friendly smiles in the hallway were giving me frowns and sympathetic eyes.  There were some friends who avoided me altogether. 
That
I could understand and appreciate.  I hadn’t dealt with much death in my life, but when a friend’s grandparents had died, I’d always immediately clammed up.  What do you say to someone when something so terribly sad and completely irreversible has happened?  I’m sorry?  I’m thinking of you?  There was nothing anyone could say to bring him back, and the unusual facial expressions drove me crazy—like it physically hurt to talk to me.  So the people who avoided me?  I silently thanked them for saving us both the uncomfortable encounter.

   My teachers had all gone above and beyond, like Holly had said they would.  I’d been given packets of work I’d missed with very generous deadlines.  My English Literature teacher had even pretty much indicated she’d look the other way if I never turned in the work at all.

   At lunch I’d done my best to act like everything was normal. I’d sat at our usual lunch table, I’d eaten my usual turkey sandwich and Diet Coke, and then I sat and listened to my friends trying to make conversation.  I watched them try to pretend that every day at lunch they hadn’t discussed me, which was why they were having a hard time now carrying on a normal conversation.

   So I decided to do them all a favor and remove myself from the situation.  They tried to protest, asked me to stay, but I was practically at my breaking point.

   My next class was gym, so I headed to the locker room, changed into my uniform, and then went outside to run a few laps around the track.

   No one else was using the track so the only things I heard were my feet slapping against the asphalt and my breaths pushing out then pulling back in.  I didn’t have to avoid anyone’s eyes, or listen to anyone tell me how sorry they were.  Nope.  I just had to feel the sun pounding down on me.

   The only problem with the running was that I couldn’t escape my own thoughts.

   When it finally came to the last class of the day, I knew it would be the hardest one.  I’d been anticipating it all day, knowing if any class would be uncomfortable, it would be World History.  It was the one class Cory and I’d had together that year.  For the first time that day, I was wishing for either Becca’s sad eyes or Holly’s uncontrollable mouth.  I’d put up with either one of them if it meant a buffer from the wall of emotion I knew I’d hit as soon as I walked in the room.

   I stopped right outside the door and steeled myself.  I pushed my shoulders back and took in a few deep breaths, blowing them out slowly.  This was what I wanted: to return to normal, to try and force life to move forward, to
deal
.  So that’s what I did.  I walked into that classroom. Little did I know, nothing would ever be the same.

Chapter Eight

McKenzie

   I walked to my desk, eyes cast downward, hair falling around my face creating my own little bubble.  The day had been trying and this last hurdle was going to be the highest to jump over, the most difficult, so the more I could keep out, the better.

   I could feel people staring at me, their gazes tingling all over my skin, their whispers burning in my ears.

   But this was different.  There were way more whispers than I had anticipated, and the air felt almost electric.  Something more was going on.

   I pushed some hair behind my ear and glanced up. 

   Mr. White was at the front of the room. 

   With Hayes.

   Hayes had his back to me, hands braced on his hips, and he was listening to Mr. White.

   It all started to make sense.  Well, not all of it.  I had no idea what he was doing there, but it explained why the room was absolutely supercharged. 

   He was wearing a white cotton shirt, like my dad wore to work, but his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.  My eyes travelled down his arms, noticing every bulge in his forearms and the strength in his fingers as they gripped his waist.  He wore caramel-colored pants and a dark belt.  The fit of the shirt barely contained the breadth of his shoulders, stretching around his biceps. 

   I hated the fact that my pulse raced from just looking at him. 

   I didn’t know what he was doing there, but I was going to find out. 

   I walked to the front of the room, the whispers around me silencing instantly.

   “Hayes?”  I hated the way I said his name.  It was hopeful and frail.

   He turned when he heard me, and I was not prepared for what I saw.  Hayes’s hair had always been longer than a typical “man’s” hairstyle.  It was long enough to tuck behind his ears, but it was usually down, falling around his face until he swept it back with one hand, only to have it fall back down again.

   Today it was pulled back into a neat-enough short ponytail.  It had been years since that much of his face was on display for me to admire, and he’d changed a lot.  His face was fuller, only emphasized by the ticking in his jaw as he clenched it.  I noticed his eyes do a quick scan of my body, so I was hoping he didn’t notice me take in a sharp breath at the sight of him.