Waiting (6 page)

Would I care if she cared?

Would I forgive her?

Yes.

Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes.

I’m weak and
needy.

I need my mom.

I want my brother.

I don’t have either.

We need each other to be whole.

How can one person take so much with him?

It is not fair.

Monday morning, when
I walk outside for Daddy to take me to school, I see Taylor. Fog sits close to the ground and Taylor stands next to his car, right there in front of my house, like Before. Like this is normal and we’ve never stopped seeing each other. It’s like my eyes are going bad, the way he kind of fades from view a bit as the fog thickens.

Daddy sees Taylor too, and I see Daddy pause, take a step, pause, take a step, and then he walks right over to Taylor and throws his arms around him. They’re the same height.

“How are you?” Daddy says, and Taylor says, “I’m okay.

Doing better.” Daddy claps Taylor on the back and they stand there a second and Taylor says, “I was going to take London to school. If you want. If that’s okay with you.” And Daddy says, “I’d love for you to. I’ve been so busy down at the church,” and Taylor nods and says, “We’ve heard the first book is doing pretty well. My mom told me to tell you we pray for your family every day.” Then Daddy nods too and says, “Thank you. London? Are you okay with Taylor helping me out?”

I stand in the doorway, half in, half out, feeling like a burden to my father, like the fog holds me back, books
tucked to my chest, the loneliness and safety of my house just a step behind me. “Okay.” But, really, I’m not sure.

The grass is wet with dew and the tops of my shoes cool as I walk to the side of the road.

You can do this, I think.

I’m shaking.

What if the car has my brother’s smell still? As I head toward Taylor, I know it does. Taylor and Zach were like brothers.

And when Taylor opens the car door for me, I smell I am right.

The drive’s quiet.

Taylor taps the steering wheel, glancing at me every once in a while.

I look forward, breathing through my mouth.

“Sorry about the aftershave,” he says.

I sort of nod.

“It makes me feel better.”

When I glance at Taylor, I see he’s hurting too.

Zach’s circle was a big one—it touched lots of people. I know that with my brain, but my heart hasn’t let me see past me too far.

All of us are missing something, I realize as I sit there, the Florida morning sweeping past my window. Like, lots of people. Lots. Everyone knew Zach. Everyone loved him.

“How?” My voice feels unused and sounds that way too.

I don’t look at Taylor.

The sun is bright. Cold. I can’t wait for warmer weather.

Soon, right?

“It reminds me of him.” Taylor taps at the steering wheel again. Pulls the car to a halt at the stop sign. “We bought this stuff together.”

“I didn’t know that.”

I hear him swallow. “He told me you’d like it.”

Now I do look at Taylor. The road to school is busy.

We’re only a few blocks away.

“I do like it,” I say. “But it reminds me too much of him.”

We look at each other. The space between us feels so huge. Someone beeps and Taylor, he doesn’t move. Just sits there. Then reaches across the distance to touch my face with his fingertips.

He walks me
to study hall. Drops me off at the door.

Waits for me to look him in the eyes. But I can’t. I give him a one-armed hug and feel his lips in my hair, feel one hand on my hip bone.

“I don’t need a ride home,” I say. Then I hurry into class, stumbling on a bit of sand, maybe, as I go through the door.

No one talks to me.

They don’t even look my way.

There’s a death bubble around me and I know it. It’s a thin film, one that only I can see through, and I have proof no one can see me, because they never look in my direction

and I refuse to look in theirs.

As soon as I sit down, I wish I were with Taylor again, riding to school or to the beach or to Tallahassee even, my eyes closed, smelling my brother all around me.

It’s that afternoon,
in English class when Jesse walks past with Lauren on his arm, looking so fine I want to slug Lauren right in the face, it’s that afternoon that I start talking to Zach.

Just in my head.

Maybe my lips move.

But no one talks to me.

Except maybe Lili if I would let her.

And Taylor, with his Zach smell.

“Zach? Zach? How are you? Are you there?”

He doesn’t answer, and for a moment, sitting in that hard desk chair, watching Lauren kiss Jesse full on the mouth until Mrs. Pray tells her to stop or else, I miss my brother so much that I think I feel my heart is still split wide open.

I remember how Daddy said, “Jesus died of a broken heart.”

And I think I know how that feels.

Right after he
was gone, when we knew he was really gone, and we all stood with Zach as he died a second time, I thought I’d crawl right out of my skin with grief.

(Mom was done talking to me by then, had already screamed at me there in the hospital until a nurse asked her to quiet down.)

At home, I’d run to my room and cried out to Jesus.

There would be no Lazarus miracle here. I knew that.

But

there was a pause in my grief

as I felt my brother edge his way into my room

like he had so many times before

and come up close to me.

I waited

quiet

afraid to move

like I might chase him away if I turned.

I could smell his aftershave, and I knew he was there to

let me know he was okay.

That visit? It
was real. I swear it.

But that visit wasn’t enough.

I want more.

I want him back.

Why does death have to be so final?

I want to scream my question

pound at God’s door

demand an answer

ask Him to forgive me

if I’ve done something wrong

and then give my brother another chance.

Taylor tries three
times to take me home that afternoon, but I cannot do it.

“I’ll walk,” I say.

“It’s too far, London.”

“Not really.”

We’re in the parking lot. Cars are everywhere. Driving away. Beeping at one another. The cool air smells of exhaust.

The noise makes me nervous, shaky. Maybe Mom’s silence has made me more sensitive.

Taylor puts his hand on my arm, and some kid leans out a window and hollers, “Just say yes!”

I panic. Want to run. Want to get away. And so I do. I rush right past Taylor, right in front of a car that almost hits me.

“Stupid bitch!” The passenger screams the words, but I don’t stop moving until I’m stopped by the crowd of students leaving C wing.

“London?” Taylor is close behind. I can hear him. He grabs the sleeve of my jacket. “Please.”

I see Lili then. She’s coming out of the double doors just
down from where we are. She waves, her face breaking into a tentative smile.

I’d smile back if I could.

“She’s taking me home,” I tell Taylor. “I can’t ride with you.” I don’t even look at him. I start toward Lili, whose smile grows a bit bigger, though she looks behind herself

once.

Taylor grabs my arm. Turns me toward him. “What did I do, London? What?”

I feel a hand on my throat and realize with a start it’s my own. I glance up at him. “You smell too much like my brother.” Then I walk away, even when he says, “I can change that.”

“That guy is
hot,” Lili says. “And he’s still watching you.”

I shrug. “I told him you’d take me home,” I say. “Just nod like you agree.”

“We can so do that,” Lili says, sweeping her dark hair over her shoulder with one hand then giving Taylor a thumbs-up sign. “Where do you live?”

“You don’t have to really,” I say. Someone bumps into me, knocking the notebooks from my hands. I don’t even have the energy to pick them up. I’m not even sure I can squat to gather these spilled things. I’m lucky that the crowd has thinned or I’d get trampled. Why am I so tired? All-the-time tired. Lili helps, grabs stuff up, hands it all to me. She’s the only girl in the whole school dressed in summer clothes. What will she wear when it warms up around here? Nothing?

“Let’s go.” She’s got on one big smile. Her face is so happy. I feel guilty about this, too, for ignoring her. How can she even forgive me when my mother can’t?

“No, I just . . .”

“You just nothing,” she says. “You just need a ride. Come with us.”