Watch Over Me (10 page)

I don't know if Zander is a little thing or a big thing: a possibility or a liability.
I've made sure to keep the guessing game out of life by shutting off my emotions and
just doing what I need to do to make it through each day. I'm suddenly very aware
of how empty my life has been lately. The idea of spending an evening alone with him
where he might ask me questions I won't know how to answer scares the hell out of
me. But at the same time, I feel a bubble of nerves and butterflies in my stomach
that have nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the thrill of the unknown
and where it might lead. Maybe there's hope for me yet.

"
Would you say that you go through each day expecting that the people around you are
going to let you down?" Dr. Thompson asks me before she takes a sip of her Panera
coffee.

I shrug as I pick a hangnail. "Sure. It's easier that way and it just makes sense."

I glance up when she doesn't say anything and am glad I don't see a look of pity on
her face. The only reason I continue coming to Dr. Thompson each week is because she
never pities me. She's concerned for me about the things I've been through, but she
never feels sorry for me. I can't stand anyone feeling sorry for me, like I'm this
sad, pathetic little girl that people need to coddle.

"Tell me how that makes sense, Addison? I want to understand what goes on in that
pretty head of yours when you think about these things. And stop picking at your nails,"
she scolds as she sets her cup down on the table next to her chair.

I immediately pull my hands apart and smack them down on either side of me on the
couch with a guilty look on my face, just like I used to do when my mom would reprimand
me for the exact same thing. I huff irritably and cross my arms in front of me.

"Look, if I go into things expecting people to suck, when they finally DO suck, it's
not that bad. They acted just like I thought they would, I'm not surprised, and I
can just move on. If I walked around every day with my head in the clouds, thinking
everyone in my life will never let me down and will never hurt me, it won't be long
before they show their true colors and disappoint me. It's easier to just accept the
fact that I'm the only one looking out for me."

I finish with my explanation and wait for her to tell me how wrong I am—about life,
about the people around me, about my opinions. Just like every week, though, she never
does what I expect her to do.

"I would have done the exact same thing if I were you. It's tough being so young and
having the people close to you let you down so many times when you need them most.
Just try and do me a favor. Keep an open mind. Sometimes, people will surprise you."

I feel like I'm going to throw up from nerves. I've looked at the clock a hundred
times since I put the "closed" sign on the front door. Before I can change my mind
and run out of the building, there's a knock on the back door. Looking quickly around
the kitchen to make sure it's not too much of a disaster, I take a few deep breaths
and walk to the door and turn the deadbolt.

"I brought you flowers," Zander says with a smile as I open the door. I laugh and
feel instantly at ease when he pulls two bags of flour out from behind his back and
hands them to me.

"Wow, how very romantic of you," I tell him.

I cringe and want to take the word back immediately. Why did I say romantic? This
isn't a date. Nothing about this is romantic. He didn't ask me out; he asked if I
could help him. Big difference. I'm teaching him how to bake. The end. He doesn't
even acknowledge my word choice or notice the turmoil going on in my brain over one
simple word. He just hands over the bags of flour and walks through the door and farther
into the kitchen.

I close the back door and turn to set the bags on the wood block island in the middle
of the kitchen, ignoring his stare as he watches me move about. I know if I look at
him right now I'm going to feel like an idiot. Walking over to my iPod dock on the
side counter, I turn on Pandora, switching it from the angry chick rock station to
just plain rock. Something tells me Zander wouldn't appreciate listening to a bunch
of women screaming about hating life and how all men suck.

"Bringing you flour is the least I could do. You're saving my ass by doing this."

He comes over and stands next to me as I begin setting out mixing bowls, measuring
cups, and all the ingredients we'll need to make a cake.

"Where's the box of cake mix?" he asks in confusion as he picks up a canister of baking
powder and looks it over.

"Cake mix? You can't say something like that here. That's blasphemy. Why did you bring
me flour if you thought we were using a cake mix?" I ask him with a laugh as he continues
to stand there staring at me in fear while I organize the ingredients on the counter.

"You work in a bakery and I figured you could always use flour for other things. I
was trying to be cute and think outside the box. But not outside the cake mix box.
Is it too late to buy my mom some jewelry or a gift certificate to a spa?" he asks
in a panic.

"Oh hush. You'll be fine. We're making the cake from scratch because that's the best
way to do it."

I separate all of the items on the counter so we each have one of the same.

"Did you forget about the part where I can't cook? This is not going to end well,"
he says nervously as I hand him two eggs and point to his mixing bowl.

"Did
you
forget the part where I run a bakery? This is going to end awesome. Less talking,
more paying attention," I tell him as I indicate with my hands that he should follow
what I'm doing as I crack the eggs and measure the sugar, flour, butter, baking powder,
vanilla, and milk. I hand him a wooden spoon and we both silently stir our mixtures.
I thought I would feel more uncomfortable alone with Zander than I actually do. Aside
from my stupid "romantic" slip, being here with him makes me feel anything but nervous.
Standing next to him, listening to the music playing softly, our arms brushing up
against each other every so often as we mix and stir, I feel at ease. He has a calming
effect on me that seems familiar. I hadn't really noticed it before, but every time
he speaks, something tickles the back of my mind. Like a memory trying to surface
through the fog, but I just can't make it appear. I ignore the nagging sensation and
just let myself be in the moment for once, not worrying about anything else around
me. We talk about nonsensical things like our favorite celebrities, favorite movies,
best book we ever read, and the places we'd like to travel to someday. In between
our talking, I give him instructions and tips on baking. It feels so natural being
here with him like this, talking easily and trying my hand at flirting.

Unfortunately, the universe has a funny way of knowing when I'm starting to let my
guard down. As soon as I open my mouth to ask Zander about his job, my iPod starts
playing a haunting melody—one I'm all too familiar with.

"This is a great song. Have you heard the version by Johnny Cash?" Zander asks.

I'm too busy being sucked into a memory to answer him. A memory that causes me to
drop my bowl of batter and clutch both of my hands to my chest to stop the ache in
my heart, to stop the remembrance of a day that I've tried to never think of again.
It's impossible to use my switch now and turn everything off. With Zander here, my
switch is broken.

I turned the volume up as high as it would go in my Honda Civic as I drove my best
friend Casey and I to school after spending the previous night at her house. It was
the last day before Christmas break which was why my mom agreed to let me spend the
night on a school night.

"Oh my gosh, I hate this song. It's so depressing," Casey yelled over the music.

"You're insane! This is
Hurt
by Nine Inch Nails and it's awesome!" I argued with her before I began to sing along.

Halfway into the chorus, during a quieter part of the song, I heard my cell phone
ring in the center console. I stopped at a stop sign and grabbed it, noticing that
I had three missed calls from my dad.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?" I answered as I quickly turned down the volume on the radio.

"SHE'S GONE! OH MY GOD, SHE'S GONE!" my dad yelled into the phone.

I'd never heard my dad like that before, and my stomach immediately dropped when I
heard the sobs in his voice as he continued to cry and yell.

"Dad, what are you talking about? What's going on?"

Casey leaned toward me and gave me a questioning look, but I just shook my head at
her. I had no idea what was happening and I was scared to death.

"Your mom, oh God, I think your mom's gone. Oh my God. Oh God help me," my dad cried.

"WHAT? Dad, what are you talking about?"

My hands shook and I felt Casey reach over and wrap her arm around my shoulder.

"I can't wake her up, Addison. I think she's gone. Oh, Jesus. Oh my God."

My breath whooshed out of me, and I clenched my jaw as hard as I could so I wouldn't
break down on the phone with him. He was hysterical and I couldn't process what he
was saying to me.

"I'm coming home. I'm coming home right now. Okay, Dad? I'll be home as soon as I
can," I reassured him.

He continued to cry and mumble incoherently about her being gone before I heard the
dial tone in my ear. I pulled the phone away and stare at it.

This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. I just saw her last night and she was
fine. She was healthy and perfect and we talked about baking Christmas cookies. She
just got a clean bill of health from her oncologist last week. We just celebrated
the second anniversary of her being in remission. This wasn't real, it wasn't real,
it wasn't real.

"Addison, what happened?"

Casey's voice made me jump. I forgot she was in the car with me. I slowly turned and
faced her, not wanting to say the words out loud, not wanting to believe that this
was happening.

"I think my mom's gone. I…I think she's dead."

Casey gasped and I watched in a daze as the tears started to fall from her eyes. I
couldn't cry. I couldn't believe it was real. It wasn't real.

"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real," I whispered over and over to myself.

My cell phone rang again, and I immediately answered it. I hoped with everything in
me that this was just some cruel joke that someone decided to play on me.