Wherever You Go (6 page)

I studied him again. His perfect tanned skin. His expensive jeans and leather boots. His black tee peeking out from under a pressed shirt. He was like them. He was just like them. "I don't know..."

"What's to know?" He looked down at his hands. "I mean, well, it's the least I can do."

My cheeks heated up again. "Oh, this is some kind of guilty penance or something? That's great."

"No. It's not like that."

I paused, feeling awkward because I sensed that he was telling the truth. Could read in his eyes that this was all coming from somewhere real. "Sorry. It's just, well, this is weird for me."

"I get it. Well, the offer stands. For whatever that's worth. You need something, let me know."

And where were you six months ago?
That thought kept repeating in my head. But I just told him thanks and walked toward the apartment building, where Grandpa Aldo, Lena, and my real life were waiting for me behind the glass door.

***

ont new roJason saw Holly in the cafeteria the next day, sitting at the table with her friend Marisa. He strolled over toward them, happy to have a break from sitting with Mark, who was holding court over by the big bank of windows at the other end of the room. He'd been thinking about Holly since the night before. Thinking about how she always acted like she couldn't care less if he was standing right in front of her. How she seemed determined not to let him get close to her. He was going to ignore that, he'd decided. There was something there. Something that made him want to get to know her more.

"Hey," he said, shoving down the nervousness he felt. He didn't like the sense that he wasn't in control, that he didn't know how things were going to go. "You guys got room for me?"

"Hi," Holly said, seeming surprised. She was wearing a blue turtleneck and a mossy green scarf, a combination that made her eyes reflect a blend of sea and sky. Her wavy hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and a few strands framed her face. He was struck by how pretty she was, even though she was pale.

A memory from the late summer flashed in his mind—of Holly and Rob eating ice cream at Green Lake. Of all the friends meandering along in the bike lane on the path, ignoring the dirty looks from passing cyclists and Rollerbladers. She'd been tan then, golden almost, and the sun had lightened her hair with streaks of blond. She had looked so happy, so carefree. But maybe that was just the impression she'd wanted to project. He didn't believe now that her life had ever been carefree.

"Hey, Jason. Have a seat." Marisa shoved over on the bench, patting the spot between her and Holly, but he sat across from them instead. "So, what brings you to our little table?" Marisa asked.

"I just thought a change would be nice," he said, glancing over at Holly, who had her head down, eyes on her salad.

"A change is always good," said Marisa. She crumpled her napkin and threw it on her tray of half-eaten lunch. "Listen, guys, I'm gonna head out," she said. "You two have fun."

"What's the hurry?" Holly asked, raising her head.

"Gotta meet someone before class. I'll talk to you later. Bye, Jason." Marisa gave Holly a little smile and then click-clacked away on her fancy sandals.

They were alone, which was what he had wanted, but now the silence between them was awkward. Again Jason felt the shyness he'd worked so hard to subdue creeping back in to him. Trying to act as normal as possible, he flipped open the bun of his chicken sandwich and squirted ketchup from a packet onto the patty. "So, how's your day going?" he asked Holly.

"Um, fine," she said.

Wow. Off to a good start.
Jason took a bite of his lunch, waiting for Holly to say something more, watching her fiddle with the sweat on her cold pop can.

"Um, thanks for yesterday. That was cool of you," she said finally. "You know, the ride."

He smiled="5n">He s at her. "Anytime. How's your grandpa doing?"

"He's okay." Holly dug around in her pile of salad and speared a tomato.

"Really?" Jason set down his sandwich. "He seemed kind of, you know, off..."

"He's got Alzheimer's." Holly's voice was quick, hard.

"Oh, sorry." Jason wiped at his mouth with a paper napkin. "I didn't know. He lives with you guys?"

Her cheeks pinked up, but she played it off with a casual shrug. "Yep. I'm helping take care of him," she said.

"So, what was the whole park thing about? Are you trying to get him out and about?"

She nodded. "It's kinda hard to come up with stuff to do. He's got a list of some favorite places and stuff he wants to remember. Discovery Park was on the list."

"He said it was special."

"Yeah." She picked up her pop and took a sip, scanning the room. "So, no Mark—no entourage?"

"I don't only hang out with them," he said. "Well, yeah, actually, I do. It gets old sometimes."

"Huh." Holly gave him an appraising look. "Rob always said the same thing."

"He did? Well, I guess it makes sense that he wouldn't have said as much to me, since I was one of them."

A lock of Holly's light brown bangs fell across her eyes. Jason sucked in a breath, realizing he had been staring. "Sorry," he said. "I just faded out there."

"So, you really do miss him."

"Every day. I think about Rob a lot."

"It didn't seem like you guys gave a rat's ass that he died," Holly said.

"Of course we did. At least I know I did." Jason knew he sounded a little harsh, so he dialed it back. "He was my best friend."

Holly poked at some lettuce in her salad again, stirring the dressing into the leaves.

"Everyone grieves in their own way," Jason said, feeling like he was somehow pleading his case.

"Yeah, I hear that's true."

"Look at you," he said. "You're processing things in your own way. You don't talk to anyone. You've definitely lost your smile. You're grieving."

"Wait—did you just say
processing?
What, are you some kind of psychiatrist or something?"

Jasonf troman"> gave her a small smile. "Far from it. My mom gave me a lame book about death after Rob passed. It was pretty crappy."

"Yeah, this whole thing has been crappy," Holly said.

"Hey, death equals crappy."

She pushed her tray of food aside and put her elbows on the table. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this—but you know, you asked if there was anything I needed."

"Tell me what?"

"I'm afraid that none of what we had was real," she said slowly. "That somehow now I'm going to forget him."

Jason felt the air go still, the space between them fold in on itself. "You won't," he said, leaning across the table toward her. "It's impossible. I know I never could." He heard his voice crack a little and instantly felt his cheeks rush with blood.

It was an uneasy silence now, and Holly was just sitting there, watching him. He didn't even feel like eating the rest of his lunch, but he chewed bite after bite of cold fries. Forced himself to finish off the vanilla pudding cup that was supposed to be dessert. It was easier to eat than to say something stupid. Something that might upset Holly or make him feel more like the dork he seemed to be at the moment.

The bell rang.

"We should mosey," Holly said, getting up from the table.

They walked together to dump the trash and recycling and turn in their lunch trays to the lunchroom window.

"This was good," Jason said, once they were walking out toward Hallway B. "Thanks for letting me eat lunch with you."

She glanced up at him, her eyes a little watery.

"Hey, you all right?" Jason said. He was half-tempted to wrap her into a hug—a hug he would give any of his friends. He started to reach out, but Holly was already under way, walking toward her next class. And the moment,
their
moment, was gone, dissolving into the swarm of kids moving down the hallway, the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the drifting scents of cologne and lunchroom.

A twinge of guilt hit him. That feeling of what would Rob think about him and Holly being friends. Maybe being more.
Wait—seriously?
He pushed back the thought. It didn't seem right, somehow, and more important, she obviously still loved Rob. He'd never be able to compete with a ghost.

***

It's dark except for a pool of light surrounding Holly. She's at her desk, sandwiched between the closet and the tiny bunk beds she now shares with her sister. You sit for a while in the corner on the hamper, watching her scratching something out in a journal her mother gave her last Christmas. One she never cracked open before five minutes ago.

You can almost sense her etching the three letters of your name into the lined pages, feel the molecules of the paper filling with midnight blue ink. You know she's writing about you, even before you come closer to peer over her shoulder. When you do peek, you are rewarded with a list. And your name is on almost every line of it. You glow all over. Your entire being fills with happiness.

As Holly turns off the light and gets under the covers, you brush a ghostly kiss over her lips, then you wander out into the living room to see what's going on. The old guy is snoozing in a recliner, oblivious to the news program blaring from the TV. You pause before sitting on the couch, wondering if he's really asleep.

And then his eyes slowly open. "Hello," he says. "Are you supposed to be here?"

You turn and look behind you, confused.

"Are you my granddaughter's friend?" he asks, scratching at his thinning gray hair.

"You can see me?" Your voice sounds like it's echoing across a broad, empty hall.

Holly's grandpa nods.

For the second time that night, you're actually freaking happy. He can see you. You're not invisible.

You're not alone.

I woke up the next morning feeling lighter, freer. That little journal sitting on my desk held the things I was going to celebrate and remember about me and Rob being together. I wasn't going to let his horrible end dictate how I lived my life anymore. Even in my head it sounded easier said than done, but still, I got out of bed and then jumped in and out of the shower with optimism humming through my body. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and I almost didn't recognize the smiling me in the partially fogged-up mirror.

When I was dressed, I reached up and tickled Lena awake in the top bunk bed. She sat upright, her hair sticking out at all angles, her face creased with a pillow mark. "What?" she said, rubbing her drooly mouth with her sleeve.

"Come on. Cereal time," I said.

Reluctantly, she clambered down the ladder and followed me into the kitchen. Wearing a blue cardigan sweater and gray slacks, Grandpa Aldo was at the table, a half-full cup of coffee in front of him, along with a bowl of oatmeal and a stack of toast. Mom must have gotten him started before leaving for work.

"Hello," Grandpa said, smiling as Lena took a seat across from him. His hair was combed perfectly, the grooves of gray parted just so.

"Good morning," she said before crunching into a piece of his toast.

"You want me to warm up your coffee?" I asked.

Grandpa looked down at his cup and shook his head.

I poured bowls of cereal for me and Lena.

"We're going to the Science Center today," Lena said, grabbing the carton of milk from the fridge. "There's some exhibit about the human body. I need five dollars, remember?"

"Crap. That's right." I got up from the table and rummaged around in my bag for some cash.

"And I need a sack lunch," Lena said, giving me an angelic smile.

"Geez. Well, at least Mom remembered to sign the permission slip," I said, sliding the five bucks onto the table. I took out peanut butter and jelly from the cabinet while Lena dug into her breakfast.

"Holly," Grandpa Aldo said. "
Mangia.
"

"In a minute," I said, slathering wheat bread with filling and slapping the sides together. I found a paper bag and plastic wrap for the sandwich, along with an apple that was a little soft but still good. There weren't any chips or anything, but a granola bar from the back of the cabinet would finish off the lunch. I plunked down into a chair, setting the crumpled bag in front of my sister. "Enjoy."

Lena, who'd been chowing down, peered inside the battered paper sack and then rolled the top down in a sloppy seal. I guessed my effort was going to suffice. She ate a last bite of cereal and then pranced over to the sink with her empty bowl. A second later she was off, zooming down the hall toward our room.

When we were alone, Grandpa Aldo put his hand on my arm. "Last night I saw a boy."

I patted his fingers and then freed my arm. "Okay," I said. I reached for the milk carton, giving it a sniff and a testing shake. We were almost out, and I didn't know if Mom would remember to pick some up at work that night. I dribbled some down onto the flakes in my bowl.

"He was here," continued Aldo.

"So, a boy was here in the apartment?" I took a bite of cereal and studied my grandfather's eyes. They were sincere. He seemed to really believe that he'd seen someone, but I'd heard that Alz-heimer's patients often saw people and things that weren't there. "So, what was this guy doing?" I asked, playing along.