I did fall apart, but only by myself.
After Mom got home, we sat on the couch in front of the altar full of glowing candles. She drank wine and I drank soda. We listened to her old Carole King albums, which made her cry even when it wasn’t the anniversary of Brian’s death.
Eventually she cried herself to sleep on the couch, just like I’d told Desi she would. I tucked the blanket around her and turned down the stereo volume. It was sweet of Desi to invite me to spend the night, but I needed to stay with my mom. Tonight, we belonged together.
One by one, I blew out the candles. With each puff of breath, I remembered Brian, sent him love, and prayed for forgiveness.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Slade
Tuesday, June 18
After the morning swim lesson, the girl from the park texted me, but I didn’t reply. I felt like a jackass, but I didn’t know how to tell her I wasn’t interested in seeing her again. I thought of how Trina looked when I’d ignored her at the park, and wanted to crawl into a hole.
Shit.
I headed to the mall, but Desi was on break and not in the pretzel shop. I wandered around, buying a couple of shirts and baseball hats I’d never wear. By the time I got home, my parents had already left for a concert in the park. My dad left a smart-ass note: Don’t call the cops if we’re out past curfew.
I made myself a giant plate of nachos, nuking a pile of melted cheese on stale tortilla chips. Nothing was on TV, but I flipped through hundreds of lame channels anyway.
My phone didn’t ping with any new texts, even though I kept checking.
Finally I caved and sent my own. Missed u @ swimming. R u ok?
I regretted it as soon as I sent it, especially when I got no reply.
After thirty minutes, I sent another one. What’s the plan 4 tomorrow?
On the TV, Vin Diesel somersaulted through spraying glass, machine gun waving wildly. I’d inhaled the entire plate of nachos, so I wandered into the kitchen to make more.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I almost dropped my plate as I reached for it.
No plan. Can u pick me up at 8:45? Mom needs the car.
I dumped chips and cheese on the plate and stuck it in the microwave. She didn’t have a plan? Maybe she was sick.
Why did u switch lessons? I hit send before I could chicken out. If she told me it was because I’d pissed her off at the park, then I’d have the chance to apologize. I was pretty sure the knot in my gut wasn’t going away until I did.
No reply.
The microwave beeped. I burned the top of my mouth on the hot cheese. I grabbed a soda from the fridge and slugged it down, cursing myself. I flopped in front of the TV again and focused on the movie.
No reply was exactly what I deserved.
I stared at the screen, unmoved by the body count. Finally, I got up off my ass and grabbed a movie from my own collection. I shut off Vin Diesel and turned on Emma Watson, then made another plate of nachos.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trina
June 19, Wednesday
Slade’s car pulled into our complex at 8:46 a.m. I was shocked. I figured I’d be waiting at least fifteen minutes. I wasn’t thrilled that he was picking me up, but Mom needed the car. We’d shared coffee and Pop Tarts, then packed away the candles from Brian’s shrine and placed his photo back on the bookshelf, just like a regular family photo. We only set up the shrine once a year now; the first few years Mom had lit candles every day, but eventually she’d stopped.
I took a deep breath as I walked toward Slade’s Jetta. I hadn’t replied to any of his texts last night, other than to tell him to pick me up today. I’d been too drained from my time with Mom, and from reliving all the emotions that came up on Brian’s anniversary. I’d thought about taking the day off, but I knew the best thing for me was to focus on something other than myself. Mom had gone to work this morning; so could I.
Unfortunately, Slade hadn’t sprouted any weird skin growths or a third eye since Monday. Still gorgeous. But which Slade was here today? Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?
After I buckled my seat belt, I forced myself to look at him. He smiled, looking almost embarrassed. He reached into the cup holder and handed me a silver travel mug.
“I brought you coffee,” he said.
I blinked in surprise, and then took the mug, careful to avoid any skin contact. “Wow. Thanks.”
“Sure.”
I felt his eyes on me as I took a sip.
“Wow,” I said again. My vocabulary was shrinking by the second. “This is amazing coffee.”
“I know, right? My dad’s a coffee snob. So am I, thanks to him.”
I kept my eyes on the coffee mug, unsure of how to respond to this Slade.
The car pulled out of the parking lot, and we sped toward the kids. He shut off the radio, silencing a couple of guys who’d been arguing about the Rockies’ chances of winning against the Dodgers on Friday.
“So,” he said. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Zoo,” I said, swallowing the scalding coffee.
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
We sat in silence then he spoke again. “How was your Tuesday?”
I took a deep breath. “It was okay,” I said. “I hung out with my mom.”
He glanced at me. “Are you and your mom close?”
“Yeah.” We had no choice. Dad bailed not long after Brian died, so it was Mom and me against the world.
“That’s good.” He smiled, almost shy.
“How was your day off?” I asked.
He didn’t reply but I saw his jaw tighten. “Okay.”
I wondered what that was about. An image of the girls from the park passed through the TV screen in my mind.
“Something strange happened, though,” he said.
“Really? What?”
“This girl I know skipped her swim lesson. Apparently she dropped out.”
I flushed under his stare, willing him to focus on the road instead of me.
“I guess she had a problem with the instructor,” he continued. “I heard the guy can be kind of a dick.”
My mouth opened in surprise, and he sighed next to me.
“Did you quit because of me?” he asked, his intense gaze feeling like it burned my skin.
The question hung there between us.
How could I explain this to him? I still felt raw, the pain of Brian’s anniversary still so fresh. “It’s just…taking these lessons is hard enough…and you—”
“Made it even harder.”
It was true, but not in the way he probably imagined.
“I switched my lessons last Saturday,” I said.
Our eyes met briefly, and his flickered in surprise.
“Oh,” he said. “So…before I was a total dick at the park on Monday?”
I laughed softly. “Yes. It was a pre-dick switch.”
His laughter made my heart flutter, rousing it from its post-anniversary sadness.
“Is that a compliment?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, relaxing a little. I liked this Slade so much better than the one who’d ignored me. “But I didn’t switch because of you specifically. I would have switched out of any class taught by someone I know. It’s just too embarrassing.”
I watched his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed just because you never learned as a kid.” He paused. “Why didn’t you, anyway?”
I swallowed over the lump that rose in my throat. “I’d rather not talk about it.” I met his gaze. His eyes were kind. Not a trace of mockery to be seen. Could I tell him? Did I want to?
“So,” he said, suddenly looking back at the road. “Any bets on which kid will freak out today? Maybe Max has an undiscovered fear of elephants.”
I laughed. “Let’s not take Gilly into the bird exhibit. All those wings fluttering. Just to be safe.”
“Deal,” he agreed.
Nobody was afraid of the penguins. Or the elephants. Or the giraffes. The hyenas, however, were another story.