Wherever You Go (19 page)

Holly's eyes twinkled a little in the sunlight streaming in through the glass. "You know, you're pretty funny."

"Yeah? I never thought of myself that way," he said.

"Me neither." She leaned back a little, seeming to study him. "You were always the serious one. The quiet, solid guy."

"I guess so."

"No, I know so. Even Rob used to say that about you."

Jason took a deep breath and said what he had meant to say the other day. "You know, I saw you, that first day of high school, out in front of the cafeteria. I was just too lame to say anything."

She reached for his hand. "Really?"

"Yep. You had your schedule out, like you were trying to find your way somewhere, and I know I should have stopped to help you. I couldn't do it."

Holly's face brightened. "You thought I was cute."

"Maybe," Jason said with a shrug.

She shoved his shoulder. "There you go, being funny again."

"Yeah, well, I've regretted that moment for a long time."

They sat there quietly for a moment, watching Aldo and Lena checking out the herb section of the greenhouse. Lena picked something from a deep-green bush and held it to her grandpa's nose. The look on his face was pure joy.

Jason leaned over and kissed Holly softly. "Thank you for giving me a chance," he said.

Holly smiled, opening her eyes. "Me too," she said, surprising him. She touched his cheek with her palm and then rose from the bench to walk down the fragrant aisle toward her family.

He watched her go, realizing more than ever that he was falling for her.

***

"You can't blame them for enjoying themselves," Aldo says. "They are alive. What would you have them do? Act like nothing goes on, nothing changes? They can't see you, Roberto."

You perch on the windowsill in the living room. Aldo's been left alone to zone out to TV while Holly supervises Lena getting ready for bed. You can hear her little sister complaining about the taste of the toothpaste, the temperature of the brushing water.

"Let me ask you this, my friend. Did you truly love my granddaughter? Please be honest."

"I think so."

"You don't
think
love. You love with your heart," Aldo says, shaking his head slowly.

Maybe you should feel offended, but you don't. You know that Aldo doesn't bullshit. "I'm seventeen. I guess I don't know crap about love."

"Well, that's the trouble right there," Aldo says in a calm voice. "When you grow older, you love again, and the new love feels so different that the love before feels like make-believe. The way you love changes throughout your life. Even the way you love the same person changes."

k" wof the br
You think back to watching Holly and Jason at the greenhouse earlier that day, seeing them sitting so close, holding hands. Could she love him? Would it be any different from the way she felt about you?

"Imagine that you were never here on Earth," says Aldo. "Would these two have found each other to love if you weren't here?"

"Ouch. Thanks a lot. If I weren't here," you say with a laugh.

"You know what I mean, kid. Answer the question."

"So, okay. Maybe?"

Aldo leans back in his recliner and lets out a breath. "You can't hold on to them, Roberto."

"I'm not trying to hold on to them."

"Then why do you care? Let them do what they will."

"They're my friend and my girlfriend."

"Yes, but you are dead."

"Obviously, I know that," you say, annoyance edging your voice. "I'm floating around day after day, forced to watch them nearly hooking up, and there's nothing I can do. I get the I'm-a-ghost thing."

Aldo frowns. "Did you ever stop to think that you are the one keeping yourself here? Perhaps your attachment to them is making you stay."

"You're not telling me anything I haven't already thought of," you say.

"Roberto, you're so very angry tonight." Aldo shakes his head again.

"Yeah I'm angry. I don't need to be hanging around here! Would you want to spend your eternity watching life go on from the outside?"

Aldo's voice is hard. "No. And that's how I spend each day myself."

Silence falls between you.

After a moment you say, "I didn't mean anything by that. You're in a completely different situation."

"You go on now," Aldo says with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to talk to you anymore tonight." His bushy brows are knitted together, his mouth a thin line.

"C'mon, man, don't be like that."

"Good night, Roberto."

"I wasn't trying to be a jerk. Don't send me away," you plead.

Aldo stares at the car commercial playing on the TV. He pulls up the blanket on his legs, still ignoring you.

"Fine. Maybe you're right," you mumble. "You don't want me around a kt meighnyway. I'll get out of here. I'm not trying to hold on to any one of you."

You close your eyes, and a second later you're on McCallister Road. The wind whips through the cedar trees in the gathering darkness below you
. You trace your hand along the shiny new guardrail and then hop it easily, getting some nice hang time in the air. Down through the grassy ravine, you float-trudge toward the tree with the scar.

When you stand in front of that injured giant's trunk, you reach out as if you could touch the blackened marks, the deep gouge from the car's fender, the small bald patches where glass had eaten into the bark. This was where it had ended and where it had begun.

"Take me away," you say aloud to the tree, to the universe, maybe. "I want to go."

The rain patters softly on the leaves near you. Cedar needles shower down right where you stand, passing through you, or through where you would be if you were really there. And you hug the tree as best you can, trying to feel something, anything.

"I want to go outside," Lena said, rolling her scooter in the hallway near the kitchen.

"Here, why don't you grate some cheese?" I held out the block of mozzarella to her. "You can help."

She abandoned the toy, leaning it against the wall.

"Wash your hands first, please."

"This rain sucks." Lena trudged over to the sink.

"I know. But this will be fun. Grandpa, how are you doing with that lettuce?"

He raised his head. The wooden bowl in front of him was half-filled with romaine torn into bite-size pieces. Since yesterday at the greenhouse, he seemed to be pretty engaged. I hadn't seen him drift away, talk about spirits, or mumble to himself. He'd been quiet, mostly.

It'd been a little bit of a rest for me, not worrying quite so much about him. Burned eggs aside, I almost felt like we'd had a good weekend. Yesterday, when Lena had gone to her friend's house after we'd visited the garden, Grandpa had taken a nap and I'd caught up on homework. Mom had had the night off for a change, so she made us all some teriyaki chicken for dinner. Earlier today, Jason had called to say hi, which was cool. Seeing his number flash on the display of the house phone had actually made me smile.

Carrying a plate and the grater, Lena took her spot at the kitchen table next to Grandpa. For every half a cup of cheese she shredded, she ate a quarter cup. It was a good thing it was the cheaper mozzarella I liked to use for the lasagna topping and not the yummier fresh mozzarella that we could almost never afford to buy. The fresh mozzarella, if we ever did get it on sale, I layered with tomato slices and basil for salad. This was just baked pasta, so it didn't matter as much about the cheese. The secret of lasagna is all in the filling, anyway.

"I'm starving," Lena said. "When do we eat?"

"Soon." I gave the sauce a last stir and pulled the noodles from the ice-water bath, layering them in the buttered casserole dish with the ricotta mixture. After covering the topped noodles with the marinara and dollops of the ricotta filling, I called over to Lena for the mozzarella.

"Can I sprinkle it?" she asked, ready with a handful.

"Sure."

A few layers later, we had a nice-looking lasagna. I was just sliding it into the hot oven to bake when I heard the front door open and close.

"Hello, hello?" Mom called out, clanking her keys into the bowl near the door. "Something smells amazing." She walked into the kitchen, a bag in her arms.

"What did you get?" I asked.

"Just a treat for later," Mom said, pulling a carton of strawberry swirl ice cream from the bag and nestling it into the freezer. "It was on sale." She folded the bag and put it in a drawer.

"Yummy!" Lena said, hugging Mom around the waist. "We're making lasagna."

Mom patted Lena on the back and came over and sat down in the chair nearest Grandpa. "How are you feeling today, Papa?" "Good," he said.

She untucked the hem of her polo shirt from her work khakis and leaned back in the chair. "I'm going to get us a glass of wine." She got up, went over to the cabinet, and took down a bottle.

"Mom, are you sure that—"

"It's fine," she said, rummaging through the utensil drawer for the opener.

"It's not going to mess with his meds?"

"I wouldn't offer it to him if it was going to mess up his medication, Holiday."

"He's doing really well today. I don't think we should make any changes," I said in a soft voice.

"I just want to share a glass of wine with him. It won't do any harm. What is with you?" She finally found the opener and slammed the drawer shut, startling all of us.

"Okay, do what you want." I left the kitchen and headed straight for the room Lena and I shared.

No sooner had I shut the door than Mom knocked quickly and came in without waiting for an answer. "Don't you walk away from me like that," she said, steadying herself by placing a hand on the frame of the bunk beds.

"There is no point to arguing in front of Grandpa—or Lena, for that matter. It's just going to upset them, and I really don't need him upset. Especially when we're all calm."

She sat down on the end of my bed. "But there's nothing to argue about," she said, her voice softening. "If I decide something, it's final. There's nothing else to say."

"Seriously?"

"Don't be smart with me," she said, an edge back in her tone.

"Mom. You leave all of this to me—Lena, Grandpa, the apartment—and then you sweep in here and want to be in charge? That's insane."

"Oh, give me a break. It's not like you're all alone in this! I am working so we can afford this place, so you have food to eat. I'm providing for this family. I am the mom."

"I know that. I don't
want
to be the mom! You think I wouldn't rather be out doing something with a friend? No, instead I'm stuck here, taking care of these guys."

"I thought you liked helping," Mom said. "Since the accident, you've spent more time with us than ever. I thought you liked being with your family."

Tears burned down my cheeks. "You're twisting it. I love my family. But if you put me in charge of them, then let me be in charge."

"You'll never be in charge, Holly," my mom said.

"Then why am I?"

She dragged a hand through her bangs, smoothing them. I saw the weariness in her eyes, the sheer exhaustion. "You want me to quit my jobs and take care of everyone? We'll be living in a shelter. How much fun would that be?"

"I just..." I wiped my cheeks with the arms of my hoodie. "I just need you to stay out of things. I'm handling them."

"Like the burned eggs yesterday? Lena told me about them."

"Yes, like the burned eggs. Grandpa is not well, and thanks to Jason taking us on a field trip to a garden yesterday, he's doing better. Can't you tell the difference? He's actually in there helping make the salad."

"Yes," Mom admitted, "he does seem better this weekend, what little I've seen of him." "Exactly. You're never here. This is like me doing this all on my own," I said.

"That's not true. I am here sometimes. Give me some credit."

"I get it. You are contributing, and I'm really grateful for that. But Grandpa's getting worse, not better. I'm sure that's what the doctor is going to say tomorrow."

Mom pressed her lips together. "Whatever he says, we'll cope."

"Are you coming to the appointment?"

She shook her head slowly. "It's during my shift at the dealership. It's the only time slo sonl0em" widtt they had open at the last minute. I can't get anyone to cover."

"Mom," I said, trying to say what I needed her to hear, "I don't know if I can handle this."

"I'm counting on you," she said, giving me an exasperated look.

"You always just assume I'm going to take care of everything. You never ask me."

"Right now, that's the way it has to be."

I folded my arms across my chest, thinking of how things should be different. How she should wrap me in a hug and tell me that she was getting a new job with better hours. That it was no problem for me to start thinking about college. That she could start taking care of everything a parent is supposed to.