Authors: Heather Davis
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Family, #Multigenerational, #Health & Daily Living, #Diseases; Illnesses & Injuries, #Love & Romance, #Social Issues, #Death & Dying, #Depression & Mental Illness, #Suicide
Wherever You Go (25 page)
It didn't matter what you had, what you were given, or who was there, when no one could see you. When no one seemed to want to see what was happening or follow you into the darkest place you could burrow yourself. This is part of the truth you don't want to see now. The part you don't want to talk about with Aldo.
You get up from the couch and start pacing the room. You want to run. You want to go somewhere—anywhere—else, but you can't tear yourself away.
"I don't get this. Why are we talking about Rob being depressed? Isn't this supposed to be about healing ourselves, helping Karen and me get our marriage back on track after the death of our son?"
"We've been through this. It was a stupid accident by an inexperienced driver," your dad says, shrugging out of her hold. "It could have happened to anyone coming down McCallister. That turn is sharp."
When your mom speaks, her voice is constricted, small. "No. That's not the truth. I know it's not," she says.
Dr. Jennifer gets out of her chair and comes toward you, pacing the floor. You move quickly out of the way. She stiffens, like a wind has passed by her, and stares hard in your direction.
"You are sensitive, aren't you? Can you see me?" you ask.
She cocks her head, listening, like your voice is just out of her range of hearing. Then she takes the open seat next to your mother on the couch. "I know this is hard, but keep going. What do you think is the truth?"
Your dad clears his throat. "Do we really have to do this? I don't like seeing her this upset."
"It's important for both of you to express what you're thinking about Rob. This is a safe place for that. Karen?"
"I think Rob was lost," she says, rubbing at her eyes. "I think Rob couldn't ask us for help."
"Of course he could," your dad scoffs.
"Well, he didn't."
"It's not easy for teens, especially boys, to talk about how they feel," says Dr. Jennifer.
"So you're going to side with her—you're going to say that our son was depressed, that the accident was on purpose?" Your dad's voice is hot and angry. His face is heating up too.
"I'm not on anyone's side," Dr. Jennifer says. "We're sorting through both of your feelings here."
Your dad crosses his arms against his chest. "I refuse to believe that my son—God, I can hardly even say it—that my son killed himself."
The air is heavy with the words.
Your mom shakes with silent tears, and your dad reaches for her hand.
You stand very, very still in the corner of the room as the memories you've denied start bursting into life in your mind. Flashes of the dark, wet ribbon of McCallister Road, the
swish-swish
of the wipers, Holly passed out in the seat next to you, the overwhelming sadness that filled the car. Filled you. The sadness is welling up again inside you. The sadness is going to drown you again.
You sink down to the floor, holding your hands over your ears. You don't want to hear this. You don't want to be here. But you care.s going ton't bring yourself to flash to Aldo. You can't leave while they're saying this about you. While they're realizing everything for the first time.
"I can't believe he would do that to himself. To us," your dad says, closing his eyes.
"But maybe he
did,
" your mom whispers.
Maybe he did.
Your mom's words echo in your mind, in your heart.
Dr. Jennifer gets up from the couch and sits in the chair. "Since we can't ask Rob what happened, you have to decide for yourself what the truth is and accept it. You need to acknowledge the pain as part of the grieving so that you can move on."
"I can't..." Your dad's words trail off.
"I know this is hard, but you've got another child to parent—Kayla needs you."
You can see your sister playing at the fake stove in the other room. She's got some rubber fried eggs in a pan, and she's pretending to salt and pepper them. Your mom looks up through her tears at Kayla.
Kayla notices your mom crying. Your mom manages a smile and a wave, and your little sister turns back to cooking her imaginary breakfast.
"I can't let him go," your dad says. "I can't let my son go." He starts to shake.
Your mom reaches out to rub his back, to comfort him.
"He's still with you," says Dr. Jennifer. "Every moment of the day, you have him with you in your memories. That love will always be alive. You don't have to let the love go—just the pain."
Your dad wipes his eyes with the back of his hands, ignoring the box of tissues your mom holds out. You've never seen your dad cry like this before. You want to reassure him that you know he loved you. Even if neither one of you said the words.
"Sometimes I do feel like he's with us. Like he's hanging around," your mom says.
Dr. Jennifer nods. "We often feel that way when a loved one passes. It's the mind's way of helping us cope. Imagining they are watching over us helps ease the pain."
You walk closer to the couch and take the seat next to your mother again. You put an arm around her, where it would be around her if you had a physical body. You try to radiate love through her, and through your dad. You try to radiate your feelings. Because there are things you know you won't get the chance to say.
I found a blue Hawaiian shirt in Aldo's closet. Though he was thinner now than he must have been when he'd bought the shirt, it looked nice on him. It matched the blue of his eyes. He reached for his cap and settled it over his gray hair.
"Holly!" Lena yelled from the other bedroom.
"Just a sec," I said, leading Grandpa Aldo out into the living room and settling him into the recliner.
Lena stood before the mirror in the bathroom, messing around with a gigantic flower clip from the dollar store. "I can't get it to stay," she whined.
"Yeah, because it's the size of your head." I took the thing from her hands and ran a brush through her tangled mass of hair. Then I pulled it all into a covered elastic band and clipped the flower into the ponytail.
Lena frowned at herself in the mirror. "I think it's supposed to be on the side of my head," she said, turning herself to see the back of the ponytail.
"It's fine. C'mon."
The front door jingled and shut with a slam, and Mom came sprinting down the hall. "Sorry, guys," she said, pulling her button-down shirt from the waistband of her skirt. "I didn't mean to run so late."
I was relieved to see her. I really had thought she was going to blow us off. After rummaging through her closet for a minute, she popped into the bathroom alongside us. Instead of wearing a nice sundress for dinner, though, she'd put on her green polo and khaki work clothes.
"What?" I said. "Please don't tell me you're not coming."
She held up a hand. "I'll have to leave early, so maybe Jason can give you all a ride home. At least I'll be there for the beginning."
"Mom." I let out a huge sigh. "I thought you had the night off."
"Obviously, that didn't work out," she said. "But hey, at least I don't start until nine." There was actually an apologetic look in her eyes. Maybe she had tried after all.
"Don't wear that. You have to wear a nice outfit," Lena said, tugging on her hand. "I'll help you pick something out. Come on!"
"Please? Maybe you could change for work at Jason's house. I mean, his mom is gonna be there."
"And you don't want her to see me in this, huh?"
"It's your choice, I guess."
"Some people work for a living, Holly. Even rich people know that."
"Mom. Seriously."
"Fine. I'll go find something else to wear and take this stuff along in a bag."
"Yes!" Lena pulled Mom down the hall, her flower-decked ponytail bobbing.
Twenty minutes later we were pulling up the long driveway in the hills, the muffler of the junky Toyotae j
"This is Jason's house?" Mom said, taking it all in as she rolled up next to the Mercedes in the driveway.
"His mom's, I guess. I haven't been here before."
As Mom cut the ignition, the front door of the house opened. Jason stood there in a short-sleeved shirt printed with palm trees and some cargo shorts. On his arm were four leis.
Mom and I helped Aldo out of the car as Jason came toward us down the walkway. "Need some help with Aldo?" he asked.
"Hello," Aldo said, giving Jason a smile.
"Aloha," Jason said. He shook Aldo's hand and then placed a yellow-flower lei over his head.
A grin overtook Aldo's face. He reached up to touch the soft blossoms and held them to his nose. "Ahhh," he said.
I'd only seen fake-flower leis before, but these were definitely real. The sweet smell of them perfumed the air. I wondered where you got leis in Seattle.
"Hi, Jason," my mom said, accepting a lei and a kiss on the cheek. "Nice to see you again."
"Hey there, Lena," Jason said as he bent to slip a lei over my sister's head.
"Come on in!" Wearing a pretty light pink sundress and high-heeled sandals, Jason's mom waved from the doorway. My family moved toward her.
"What are you doing?" I asked. "I mean, flowers and all that?"
Jason held out a fragrant lei to me. I ducked under it and let it fall around my neck. Then he reached forward and took my chin in his fingertips. "I told you I was cooking Hawaiian stuff," he said.
"Yeah, but leis and everything? How did you—"
His lips met mine, silencing my question. His mouth was soft, sweet—I tasted the faintest hint of pineapple. "This is a luau," he said when he pulled back. "From the list, remember? Do you think he'll like it? Aldo, I mean."
"Yeah," I said, pressing my lips together, trying to quell the tingling. My heart was pounding with excitement too. I couldn't wait to see what Jason had in store for us. "He's gonna love it."
"Good. Let's go." He slipped an arm around my waist, escorting me up the walk, which was lit with solar tiki torches. Seriously. Tiki torches.
"Jason." I stopped and turned to face him. "Why are you so good to us?"
He wrinkled his nose at me, like I'd asked the silliest question in the universe. "I jusivet face="t want you to be happy," he said.
And at that moment, I would have sworn I was.
"This is just wonderful." Mrs. Mullen paused out on the deck that overlooked the pool.
Soft hula music drifted out from the speakers, and the gentle glow of the torches combined with the blue light of the pool.
It does look pretty darn good,
Jason thought, taking a little pride in what he'd set up.
"This place is amazing," Holly's mom continued.
Jason's mom gave her a genuine smile. "Thanks, Julia. Although lately it's felt a little empty with just the two of us."
Eesh.
Jason girded himself for what was sure to come next and busied himself pouring the tropical fruit drinks he'd blended—nonalcoholic piña coladas. Not exactly Hawaiian, but very delicious.
"It's not easy transitioning to being on your own," Holly's mom said.
"You said it." Jason's mom reached for one of the hollowed-out coconuts Jason had filled with the frothy white drink.
"Cheers, Mona." The two of them clinked cups like old friends.
Jason glanced over at Holly, who was staring open-mouthed at the two mothers.
He gestured toward the kitchen. She followed him into the house, passing Aldo and Lena, who were camped out in a covered swing seat near the pool.
"Ohmigod," Holly said. "Can you believe those two?"
Jason laughed. "I know, right?"
"Why was I so worried about them getting along?" she said.
"You were worried?" he asked, getting a tray of fish out from the refrigerator and setting it on the counter.
She shrugged. "Well, kind of. You know, they are pretty different." She didn't spell it out, but Jason knew that Holly was hyperaware of the differences between the ways they lived.
"Well, it seems they found they have something in common," he said, handing Holly a tray of cut-up pineapple and mango.
"Yeah. Men who leave."
Jason smiled and shook his head. "Uh ... I was going to say surviving a big breakup."
Holly chewed a piece of pineapple from the tray, her blue eyes thoughtful. "I don't know that my mom survived it, actually."
"She's here, isn't she? She didn't curl up and die."
"True."
"She's a survivor. Just like you," he said, giving her a kiss as he passed her.
She followed behind him with the tray of fruit. "It seems like I'm surviving?"
"You honestly don't know the answer to that?" Jason set the tray of fish near the barbecue.
Holly placed the platter of fruit by the chatting moms and went over to join him. "I mean, maybe I know. I'm seeing a little light at the end of the tunnel lately," she said, putting a hand on his waist.