Notes to Self (16 page)

“You want to? Get coffee?” he asked. He pushed up his glasses and still looked worried, like he wasn’t sure if I was sane.

“No, I want to stay up here longer. It’s really nice.” I let go of my knees and let my legs dangle over the side of the platform. “I did forget about it, your platform, until I saw it again. There was a lightning bug…”

“Yeah, I still come up here a lot, actually. Well, not
a lot,
a lot. Some.” He reached up to a higher branch and grabbed a can of Mountain Dew from some nook against the trunk, and then opened it and gave it to me. I took a few sips of the soda and handed it back. He finished it in two long swallows.

“Did you make the basketball team?” I asked. I didn’t want to talk about anything to do with school, but I couldn’t think of another thing to say.

“Dunno. Find out on Monday. I think I did okay. It’s not like I’ll ever get to play, but I made most of the shots I took while the coach was looking, I think.”

“Nice. Maybe when Emily’s better, I’ll join something too. Or try out for something.” Maybe school wouldn’t be so bad if I did something there I actually enjoyed. That was what everyone was always saying was the point, right? Find something you love to do and then do it. As if that was such as easy thing.

“You? Really?”

I swatted him. “I could
join
things. Maybe I’ll, like, become a drill team star. Or maybe I’ll get a part in the musical. You never know.” My mom was always trying to get me to do extracurricular activities, to
participate
, as she called it. I’d never wanted to. But it was beginning to occur to me that feeling like a ghost on a Tilt-a-Whirl might have more to do with my standoffish personality than with my brain injury. Maybe Reno wasn’t the only one who could change.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he laughed. I swatted him again. A breeze rustled through the tree and some of the moss swayed. As it settled back, it seemed even thicker, like it was expanding and closing us in, hugging us inside the heart of the tree.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, once I stopped giving him a mock-beating.

“Sure.” He crunched up the Dew can and tossed it to the ground. “Don’t worry, I’m not littering, I’ll pick it up when we climb down.”

“Are you happy?” I considered telling him about my recent bouts with major nostalgia, but I didn’t know how to explain it, exactly, without sounding like a nut job.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m happy. That’s kind of a weird thing to ask, but I guess it’s worth thinking about. For a long time, I felt kind of invisible. Like it didn’t matter if I was happy, because no one would notice.” He paused for a minute, thinking. My eyes teared. I knew I was one of the people who didn’t notice, who didn’t take the time to check. People say that friendships come and go, that people change and grow apart, blah, blah, blah. But the real story, probably every time, was that one of the friends was an asshole who got too busy or stopped caring, or desperately wanted to be thought of as cool and just bailed out on the other friend. Everyone just brushes it off, moves on, accepts. And yet it was a tiny tragedy. It mattered, and I was the asshole. Still, Reno wasn’t even angry with me. “But I wanna have fun. Get invited to places. And I will.”

He sounded so earnest and sweet, he was killing me.

“I’d settle for invisible,” I sighed. “People still look at me like my brains might ooze out of my head.”

“That sucks.” Reno put his arm around me. He used to be so timid, always reacting to what
I
was doing instead of doing something just because
he
wanted to. Now he felt stronger, older, and I leaned into him. I got a strong whiff of his cologne. I wondered if it was dancing out there in the air with the scent of my vanilla body wash, hovering together in the air, intertwined. My stomach flipped, and I knew that I wanted him to kiss me. This was the second time in less than a week that I’d felt this way—I had to do something about it.

He was already pulling away, so I stopped him. I put my hand on his shoulder and pulled him toward me. I tilted my chin like I’d seen other people do, so their noses didn’t hit. Our lips touched, so lightly I wasn’t even sure it really happened. I risked opening my eyes the tiniest bit. I felt his fingers on the back of my neck, lightly guiding my lips back toward his. We kissed again, a little longer this time, exploring each other. The birds were chirping all around us and his lips tasted like sugary citrus soda. It was perfect.

“Um,” Reno said. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting that.” He put his legs over the side of the platform, like mine, and one of his sandals fell off. His face reddened, which made him look even more adorable. I leaned back slightly and my eyes landed on the tender spot on his neck, right below his ear. I wanted to kiss it, to give him goose bumps. There was something about that spot—I wanted to make it mine.

“Me either,” I breathed. “It was…nice.”

“Yeah.” He paused, an uncertain look on his face. “But I didn’t think you ever…I didn’t think you ever felt that way before.”

“I guess I…didn’t. Before. But now I do.” It was so simple. I’d always loved Reno, I just didn’t know it. But now I’d figured it out and we had all the time in the world to be together.

“Um, well, yeah, but now you have a brain injury.” He pulled away from me and pushed his hair back from his face like he was stressed. I stared at him, shocked.

“What? You think that happened because I’m messed up?” My eyes teared again. Wasn’t I allowed to be a person anymore? Was every choice I made no longer mine?

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m just saying…I didn’t expect that. I thought we were just friends. You’ve always wanted to be just friends.” He folded his arms over his chest like I was trying to trick him. Maybe I was wrong about him not being angry with me.

“We could be both,” I said, so quietly I doubted he even heard me. I knew it was useless. Reno looked upset, not like someone who was thrilled that the girl he liked had feelings for him, too. “This isn’t…I don’t feel this way now because something’s wrong with me, Reen. I feel like I’m finally figuring some things out.” I couldn’t believe that the one good thing that had happened to me since I fell was slipping away, literally one minute after it happened.

“But what if when you’re done healing, it goes away?” I noticed he was now sitting as far away from me on the platform as humanly possible.

“What if
what
goes away?” He was acting so suspicious all of the sudden. I didn’t want to be in the tree anymore. I wanted my closet. I never thought Reno would make me want my closet.

“This.” He made a motion with his hands back and forth between us. “Your, um, new feelings.”

“I don’t think they will,” I said. It sounded lame, even to me.

“I think it’s better if we just stay friends. I’ll text you later.” He began climbing down the tree. I saw him pick up the crumpled can and sandal and walk back to his house. Just before he got to the door, he turned around. “You want a ride home?”

Leave it to Reno Weisman to make sure a girl’s ride situation is taken care of while he’s breaking her heart.

“No, I'm good,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear.

CHAPTER 37

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

When I got home after what felt like the longest walk ever, I went straight to the bathroom. Whenever I was really upset, my mom always poured me a bubble bath and that’s what I did now. I turned the water on as hot as it would go and dumped almost half a bottle of shampoo in. I wanted to disappear in the bubbles. I peeled off my clothes and got in, even though the tub wasn’t half full yet. The water was so hot it made me gasp, but I didn’t turn the handle back. Instead, I sunk down, getting used to it.

Of course I was supposed to be with Reno. I’d always known I’d be with Reno. One after another, all the nice and special things he’d done for me popped into my brain. The time he’d tried to teach me to skateboard. Giving me his old iPod when he got a new one. Making me laugh when I was having a bad day at school. Quizzing me for the geography bee, even though it meant I’d beat him. Visiting me every day after I got out of the hospital, when no one else did. Suddenly I loved everything about him, from the hair hanging in his face to his hipster glasses to his fan-boy obsession with Joss Whedon. I was such an idiot not to realize sooner how important he was to me. Instead, he was always just Reno, the way the sun’s the sun or your mom’s your mom.

I noticed the water in the bathtub was getting too high, so I turned off the faucet and boiled in there, my skin pink. The bubbles—the mountainous globs of bubbles—failed to make me feel better. All I wanted was a text or a call from Reno, letting me know it was all okay, that he was sorry he had freaked out, that he’d be over right away and wouldn’t leave until I told him to. Instead, I heard nothing. My phone was so silent it was hostile.

I seriously wished I’d never walked over there last night.

“Honey, I need the bathroom. Are you almost done?” Mom knocked on the door. We had only one bathroom, which was a nightmare.

“I’m in the tub, Mom. Can you give me a minute?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from wobbling.

“One minute.” I heard her go back to her bedroom and I sighed and stood up. So much for that plan. I toweled off, put pajama pants and a t-shirt on, and went to curl up on the couch, pouting. I heard her go into the bathroom and come out a couple minutes later. “Are you sick?”

I considered the question. No, technically, I was not sick. But I wasn’t well either. “No.”

“What’s wrong? You never take baths.” She put her hands on her hips. Her hair was in a ponytail near the top of her head and her college glasses were shoved up there too. Study time.

“I’m fine.” I pulled the throw off the back of the couch and wrapped myself up in it. “Can we get a cat? Don’t say no.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom pulled her glasses off of her head and set them on the kitchen table. “Is it Reno?”

“A cat? Please?” I figured since I was a failure with humans I might as well try my luck with the animal world. Zelda was great and all, but you can’t cuddle a fish.

“Honey, I don’t know. We can talk about that later. Did you have a fight with him?” She sat next to me on the couch and rubbed my back. I glared at her. She should mind her own freaking business. She wasn’t exactly a genius when it came to guy problems.

“I have no friends,” I admitted, skirting her question. “Why can’t something good happen for a change?”

“Good things happen, sweetie. Listen, let’s make this a Larson Lady Day.” She grinned at me, and I looked at her like she was a lunatic. For one, I have Dad’s last name, not hers, so I’m not a Larson; and two, a “Lady Day” sounded like something you’d need a tampon for. “I promise you’ll like it. I invented them when I was just a little older than you. First, we give ourselves facials and drink tea. Second, we put on a Madonna album and sing along at the top of our lungs while having a dance contest. Third, we watch terrible romantic comedies and eat cookie dough until we’re about ready to puke. Sound good?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll heat some water for tea. Go find my mint clay mask stuff in the medicine cabinet.” She pulled out two mugs and some good-smelling chamomile tea from the cupboard. It wasn’t coffee, but I was willing to give it a try.

She daubed the mint stuff on my nose and for some reason, I let her.

“What if Emily doesn’t wake up?” I wanted Mom to tell me that everything would get easier. Her plan to fix things with cookie dough sounded silly, like throwing tomatoes at an army invading with tanks. I knew for a fact she didn’t believe in the power of Madonna and tea, because I’d seen her depressed. I knew what that looked like. She folded up into herself, into her bed, and told life to shove it. Sometimes, you’ve got to feel bad for adults, really. They don’t have parents around anymore, demanding to know what’s wrong.

Even though I was old enough to know my mom couldn’t fix anything, not really, having her there to get in my face and drop what she was doing to make me feel better was kind of…better than nothing. I guess if all you’ve got is tomatoes, you throw the tomatoes.

“I don’t know, Robin. Keep expecting goodness.” She hugged me close. “It’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it will. I really believe it. Someday soon you’re going to be so deliriously happy that you’ll feel like you’re going to explode. And you’ll be glad you toughed out crappy days—weeks—like this. Not that we’re going to let today be crappy.” She put on the Wicked soundtrack and started singing “Defying Gravity.” Mom is completely tone deaf, so it sounded horrible. But kind of funny too. I sang along with her, and even though I felt like a dumbass bellowing Broadway with my mom in a green face mask on a Saturday morning, I did feel the tiniest bit better.

“Wow. Your voice…I never noticed before how pretty your singing voice is, honey.” I immediately stopped singing. “No, don’t stop. It sounded lovely.”

“Um, thanks.” I stayed quiet. For a moment or two I felt happy, even cozy, with my mom in our kitchen, with green stuff on my nose. And being happy wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t allowed while Em slept, hovering between life and death. “Emily would have been better off if she’d never met me,” I mumbled. Mom stared at me, hard. She immediately turned off the music.

“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk,” she said. Her voice was hard. It surprised me. I figured the general consensus was Emily would have been better off without me. Without our stupid climb to the top of the Sling Shot. I mean, right?

“Huh?” I wiped my nose, which was moist as I hovered near tears.

“Your dad always used to say that. ‘You’d be better off if you’d never met me.’ It used to make me so angry, because it’s like he thought he was so awful he was off the hook from having to try to do better, from having to try to be happy. We
did
meet. And I was glad we did. Just like Emily was glad she met you.” Mom gripped the back of the kitchen chair opposite me, as if it was trying to escape from the room.

“Oh.” I watched her face, chastened.