Reclaimed (22 page)

I was beginning to believe he was wrong about that.

“I thought about you a lot over those seven months,” he said. “I was shocked when I saw you again. I didn’t think I ever would.”

“Me neither. And then there were two of you and I didn’t know what to do.”

He put his finger to my lips. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

And he kissed me so we didn’t have to.

I didn’t want to fall asleep. I was afraid I would wake up someone else and lose the moment forever. I watched Jenna sleep instead. She was curled into my chest and her hair tickled my face. I wished there was a pause button on the world.

But the clock kept moving forward, and somewhere between ticks, I fell asleep.

I dreamt of my room again, the one with the moving walls. But this time Jenna was with me, and the panic I felt when the walls got closer had nothing to do with me and everything to do with her. I didn’t want her to disappear like I always did. I tried to wedge the bed in the corner, but the walls kept moving. Jenna threw books at the wall and tried to find a way out, but there was no door and no window. No escape. Jenna and I stood in the center of the room and watched the walls get closer and closer. When they touched our shoulders, Jenna leaned over and kissed me. The walls stopped. We were pressed together, and the walls were touching us on both sides, but we didn’t disappear. It was the first time I didn’t wake up from that dream in a panic.

When I did wake up, I knew something had changed. I could feel it in the air. It was like when I was little and woke up to snow on the ground. I’d known even before I got out of bed that there would be a blanket of white on the usually brown, dead grass. For some reason, I could feel the difference in the air. Or those mornings when I would wake up excited and not know why. That was how it was. I was anxious and excited for no reason. No, that wasn’t really true. It was because of Jenna.

She was sitting up. “I was watching you sleep,” she admitted. “You look a lot younger when you sleep.”

“What time is it?”

She looked at her phone. “Almost six.”

My time with Jenna was snippets of nights and early mornings, like some crazy dream that comes in pieces. The kind that made me sad when I woke up.

Funny how a bad day could be swallowed up by a sunset and sunrise. Last night I was sure I’d blown it with Jenna, and I knew coming home to her drunk mother hadn’t been the high point of Jenna’s life. But now it was a whole new day, and there was a feeling that it would be better. At least it was starting out that way. Because we were together. And there was no other place I wanted to be.

The sky blushed as the sun peeked over the edge of the world. Jenna wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her cheek on her knee, her face shining in the early morning light. Glints of gold shone in her hair.

“I had a dream about you last night,” I told her. I wanted to take it back as soon as it was out there.

“A PG one, I hope,” she said.

“Unfortunately,” I admitted. She laughed. “I have this dream all the time, but you’ve never been in it before.” I described the dream to her. “You know, it’s normally a nightmare. But it wasn’t this time.”

“Now I know what you’re most afraid of,” she said.

“And what is that?”

“Disappearing.”

That was exactly what it felt like in Ian’s shadow. Jenna saw me even when I couldn’t. I didn’t know if I was relieved or afraid.

Jenna stared at me for a minute, then leaned in and pressed her head to my chest. I put my arm around her, running my fingers through her hair and pressing her closer to me. I didn’t want to let go.

Dawn dark felt different from night dark. For a moment, before the sun came up, everything was muffled and still, like the world was waiting for something. Patient, the air was hushed and full of possibility. Then everything exploded in color and sound as the sun popped up over the horizon and the birds started calling back and forth to one another.

Luke’s eyes took on all the colors of sky and water and reflected them back. And the longer I stared at him, the less he looked like Ian. Luke held his head differently. He slouched. He had a half-smile that was part smirk, part grimace, and I had no idea if he was being serious, or making fun of me, or hiding something really bad.

But I could talk to Luke—without saying much at all. Stabs of desire cut through me as I stared at the back of his neck, the curve of his shoulder. I didn’t have adequate words and only knew it was pure feeling, emotion completely free of reason. It felt like it was going to swallow me whole. I didn’t believe people could own one another, but I suddenly felt very possessive of Luke. I didn’t want to share him with the rest of the world.

“Thanks,” I told him.

“For what?”

“For being here.” I reached up and pulled him down to me, trying to tell him without words everything I couldn’t say. The kiss was long and lingering and made me ache.

He pulled away and looked at me. “Does this mean you’ve picked me?”

I smiled. “It was never really a competition to begin with.”

The curtain twitched as Luke pulled into the driveway, and I caught a flash of Mom’s robe. No amount of fireworks or sunrises or synchronized heartbeats was going to keep the world out forever.

“Do you want me to walk you in?” Luke offered.

“I think that would make it worse,” I told him, although I was too angry at my mother to worry about how much trouble I was in. I leaned over and kissed him before he could argue. “Go home. I’ll call you later.” I hopped out of the truck. “On second thought,” I said, turning back to him, “she’ll probably take my phone.”

“I really am sorry,” he said.

“I’m not.” I wanted to jump back in Luke’s truck and tell him to drive forever. I didn’t care where we went, as long as it was away. But I went inside instead.

Mom had positioned a chair so that it faced the front door. Her back was straight and her legs crossed, the top one swinging manically. She clung to her huge mug of coffee like a drowning man grips a life preserver. Or a wino holds his bottle. Her lips were thin, almost nonexistent. “You stupid, stupid girl,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” Which was a lie. The only part about last night that I was sorry about was her behavior.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it. Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

I started to climb the stairs. I was too tired to go into it.

“I’m talking to you, young lady!”

I wanted to tell her that talking involved a two-way conversation; what she was doing was yelling. “And I’m listening,” I said instead, turning to face her.

“You’re out all night with some boy you barely know, then you come slinking in with the sun, acting like it’s no big deal.”

“That’s some serious bullshit you’ve got there.” She was in no position to start pointing fingers at inappropriate behavior. Especially if she couldn’t even remember hers.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” she shouted, marching across the room and glaring up at me from the bottom of the staircase. She looked older.

“Like what, Mom? Honestly? God forbid we talk honestly about anything. The truth was you were passed out in your own puke last night and I was here to take care of it. So don’t try and make me feel guilty, like you paced the floors, wringing your hands and praying I would turn up alive. You didn’t even know I was gone.”

“You’re grounded.”

“Classic. You get drunk and act like an irresponsible jerk, and I clean up your mess and get punished for it. That really sucks.”

“Life isn’t fair. It’s best you learn that little lesson right now.”

She had to be joking. “Really? Because life has been completely fair with me, Mom. It’s been handing out roses and kittens lately. I’m working two jobs so I’ll have money for college. And what are you doing?”

“Working,” she snapped.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re never here because you’re ‘working,’ which apparently means being out with your friends getting trashed. And now you want to waltz in here and pretend like you have some sort of control over what I do. You can’t just be a parent when it’s convenient for you.”

Mom climbed the steps and stuck her finger in my face. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are.”

“I’ll tell you exactly who I am. I’m the girl who always does what she’s told. I get good grades. I take care of you when you’ve had too much to drink. I worry that I can’t ever leave here because someone has to make sure you don’t pass out and choke on your own vomit.” Shattering the alcohol earlier had broken a dam, and the words poured out so fast I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t really want to anyway. “I’m a teenager with adult worries and problems. I should be allowed to have fun. I should be allowed to make mistakes and be a kid and not have to worry all the damn time. But I’ll also tell you who I’m not.” I was shouting. “I’m not you! I wasn’t out last night getting drunk and knocked up. So spare me the lecture.”

Mom’s hand flashed out so fast that I felt the sting across my cheek well before I realized she’d slapped me. She’d never hit me before.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. Do you hear me?” Mom wasn’t yelling anymore. Her voice was taut, a stretched rope between us.

I should have felt guilt. I wanted to regret what I’d said. But I didn’t. I was sick of pretending our life wasn’t eroding. I was sick of trying to hold it together while it ran through my hands. “I’ll be in my room,” I said.

“Phone.” She held her hand out.

I handed her my phone and headed upstairs. I was suddenly exhausted.

“Maybe you shouldn’t see Ian again,” Mom called after me. “Any boy who would keep you out all night doesn’t respect you.”

“You would know.” I slammed the door behind me.

I was drowning in sleep and it felt as if I would never find the surface. Every time I thought I was close to waking up, something would grab me and pull me back under. I dreamt of the tree house again, and then shrinking walls. They pressed against my skull all night, and when I was finally able to wake up, my head was sore.

The house was quiet. Luke’s door was shut, and I could hear his faint snore on the other side. I stopped, my hand resting on the doorknob. I missed Luke. I missed our pranks and always knowing what he was thinking. I hated the doors that had shut between us. I turned the knob. He had locked me out, or Mom, or both, and I didn’t want to wake him and make him open up. Not yet.

I went downstairs to the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of cereal and walked into a room I barely recognized. The broken kitchen had been fixed, and not just pieced back together. It was a completely different room, all warm and golden. Luke had always had a talent for building, which was lucky, since he was equally talented at tearing things apart.

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. If Luke could reassemble this kitchen, I could do the same with everything else. I was more than halfway there anyway. Mom had smiled, Dad had called twice, and Jenna was the normal that would camouflage our dysfunction. If I could just get Luke to buy in, maybe I could save him, too. Save myself. Reestablish that connection and find whatever it was that my brain, my mom, and Dr. Benson were hiding from me. Dr. Benson said I would remember when I was ready, and sometimes I thought I almost had it. But every time I tried to remember exactly what had happened, my mind skittered away from it. It was like I was in a maze. I saw the corner, knew I had to turn and go that way if I wanted to get out, but as soon as I did, there was another corner. There was a door somewhere in that maze. I’d caught a glimpse of it once or twice before losing it again. It seemed to move. And while the maze was dark everywhere else, a small strip of light shone from underneath that door. But I couldn’t get it open—it was locked tight. I knew my memories were somewhere in there. I just had to find the key.

Jenna’s phone went straight to voicemail. I had to see her. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind me stopping by. We’d had a great time together on Friday, even though she’d had to drive her mom home and I’d had to ride back with Steven and Steph. I’d wanted to go with Jenna, but she’d needed some time alone with her mom.

It was late afternoon as I drove through town, quiet and sleepy, most people enjoying an extended holiday. I went by the store, thinking Jenna might be at work, but it was closed. I drove to her house.

Her mom answered the door. She didn’t look happy. “She’s grounded, Ian.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. I had no idea why she was looking at me that way.

“You should have thought about that when you brought her home at seven in the morning. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

I hadn’t seen Jenna since Friday night. And only Luke would have brought her home at dawn. I suddenly remembered looking up from the ground at an angry Luke, and I had an overwhelming sense that this was all just a replay. Somewhere in my memory, I heard the door unlock. I was suddenly afraid to try and find what was behind it.

“Give him a break.” Jenna walked into the living room and stood behind her mother. I hadn’t moved.

“Don’t sass me,” Vivian said. “He’s half the reason you’re grounded.”

“Mom, we’ve been over this.” Jenna sounded calm, bored even.

Vivian looked like she wanted to slap Jenna, but she didn’t. I didn’t think she knew what to say. She just stood there.

“I need to talk to Ian for a few minutes, please. We’ll stand right here on the porch. You can even watch us at all times.”

I thought Jenna’s mom might argue or start yelling and kick me off the porch. She looked like she wanted to. But Jenna was giving her such an intense glare that I don’t think she dared. “Two minutes,” Vivian said.

Jenna stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind her. “Um, let’s sit.”

She sat down on the top porch step. I didn’t. I walked down the steps to stand in front of her instead.

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said.

I didn’t believe her. “Luke.” It was all I needed to say.

She nodded. There were dark stars at the edge of my vision—another headache. “Behind my back?” I asked.