“So how is the boy?” asked Ida, an unlit cigarette dangling between her brightly painted nails.
We were in the middle of our third session together. It was a particularly warm day, and the fan was whirring noisily above us. The lazy drone of a plane flying overhead made me feel suddenly sleepy.
“We’re not in touch anymore.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“It was a mutual thing,” I shrugged. “I suppose it was getting kind of messy. We thought it was best we keep our distance for now.”
“That’s very mature of you both.”
“It is?”
She nodded.
I leaned back into my chair and stared up at the ceiling, mesmerized by the hypnotic spin of the blades.
“How do you feel about your decision to end the friendship with Rad?”
I thought about it for a minute.
“Lonely,” I said finally. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I mean, it’s not like anything romantic happened between us. But I miss talking to him. Every time I come across something I think he’d like, I just wish I could call him up or send him a text. Like the other day, I saw this movie, Coherence. It was about parallel universes, and I just know he’d love it. That’s the thing; he’s the only person I know who would appreciate it the same way I do. And I wish I could watch it with him and talk to him about it. Why is that so important to me? I don’t get it. I didn’t even think about all this before I knew him.”
“It’s human nature, I suppose. To have another person validate your own unique view of the world.”
“I can’t even talk about it, which makes me think about it more.”
Ida nodded. “Things tend to grow bigger in your mind if you let them sit there. It’s always better to get it off your chest. That’s why I’m here.”
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“My friend Candela just quit school.”
“Really? In her final term?”
“Yeah. It almost feels like she’s on this self-destructive path. I think Ana’s death has been really difficult on her.”
I told Ida about the time Rad and I went to the cemetery and found Candela’s picture in Ana’s locket.
“I don’t know exactly what their relationship was, but it obviously went deeper than I thought. Whenever I try to talk to Candela about it, she clams up. And then just like that, she switches to her old happy-go-lucky self, and I think I’m just imagining it all. It makes me uneasy. I’m worried sick about her, but I feel so helpless.”
“I know the feeling, sweetheart. But it’s up to Candela to sort her own life out. All you can do is be a friend to her. Keep a line of communication open.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “It feels almost like she’s a different person now. She moved away from home a few weeks ago, and she’s hanging out with a weird crowd. I met them at her housewarming, and I didn’t feel comfortable around them.” I shrugged. “But maybe it’s just me.”
“It’s good to trust your instincts; they’re usually right.” Ida reached for a lighter and finally sparked up her cigarette. She took a long drag and looked at me. “How about your mother?”
“She’s driving me insane. I’ve stopped seeing Rad, but she’s still not happy. I don’t know what the hell she wants from me.”
“I see,” she said and let me continue.
“She’s just so—I don’t know . . . miserable. I can’t seem to do anything right. There’s always a problem. It’s like walking on eggshells. When it’s just Dad and me, things are easy. I just want her to not be so crazy all the time.”
“Have you spoken to her about how you feel?”
“I’ve tried, but there’s no point. It’s like a monologue with her. Lucy talks to her mother all the time. It’s a two-way street with them. They’re, like, best of friends. I don’t know why mine has to be so difficult.”
“Relationships are complex things. On the surface it should be simple. But it’s like an onion. So many layers there. The mother-daughter relationship seems to be a particularly tough one. But they tend to work themselves out as you get older.”
“I don’t know,” I said, unconvinced. “It seems to get progressively worse every year.”
She gave me a sympathetic look. “Is the rubber band still working?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty much a requirement for me now. I carry spares with me too.”
“That’s good to hear, honey. I think you’re coping remarkably well, considering what you’re up against. It would be a tough time for anyone, even under ordinary circumstances.”
“I suppose,” I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see my hour was up.
“It goes by quickly, doesn’t it?” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Well, you take care, honey.”
I picked myself up from the chair. “I will.”
“Just take it one step at a time, okay? Don’t beat yourself up so much.”
I nodded.
“Good girl. I’ll see you next week.”
Seven
The bell sounded, signaling the end of sixth period. I breathed a sigh of relief and began packing up my desk. Duck, who was sitting next to me, stood up and slung his bag over his shoulders.
“Audrey,” my English teacher, Mr. Sadowski, called to me across the chatter in the classroom.
I looked up. “Yeah?”
“Can you come here a minute?”
“Sure,” I said, shoving the rest of my books into my bag.
“I’ll meet you at the front gate?” said Duck.
“Actually, I have to stay back today to do some work on the school mag. But I’ll drop by your place afterward.”
“Okay, want me to pick you up?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll take the bus.”
I swung my school bag onto my shoulder and, doing my best to avoid my jostling classmates, made my way to the front where Mr. Sadowski was waiting.
“What’s up, Mr. Sadowski?”
“I’ve finished reading some of the recent pieces you’ve written for the school magazine. Great work, really great. You’ve always been a strong writer, but it’s gone up a notch in the past couple of months. Well done.”
I smiled, pleased with the compliment.
“But I thought I should just check in with you, make sure everything is okay.”
“Of course it is. Why would you think otherwise?”
“You’ve been a little quiet in class lately, and your writing, well . . .” He gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. “It’s taken something of a dark turn.”
“Oh.”
“Is there a reason for this?”
I shook my head and smiled. “No, not really.”
“No?” He looked unconvinced.
“Why do you ask?”
He sighed. “Since Ana’s death, the running theme in your work seems to focus mainly on suicide, and I’ve been a little worried.”
“It’s okay. I’m seeing someone about it. Ida has been great. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”
“I have, and from what I know, you’re in good hands.”
“So was that all?”
He nodded. “Yes, that was all.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Sadowski. See you tomorrow.”
I made my way over to the school library to meet up with Anton, who insisted we call him Angie. He was editor of the school magazine and the most popular kid in school, well liked by the teachers, the kids, the ladies at the school cafeteria, and even the grumpy caretaker whom everyone steered clear of.