Between Here and Forever (13 page)

thirty-four

I want to sneak out, but I don’t want to be rude to
Clement. And I don’t—I don’t want Eli to think I don’t want to be here. Because I do.

That’s the whole problem. I do want to be here. I want. And I’ve tried—I’ve tried so hard not to do that.

“I have to go,” I say, sticking my head into the kitchen. Clement is slicing an enormous ham as Eli stands next to him, a faint, dark flush across his face as he fiddles with a loaf of bread.

“Are you sure?” Clement says, looking at me closely enough that I get nervous and give him my usual angry smile, all bared teeth. He smiles back and keeps looking, like he knows what I’m thinking. How I’m feeling. Next to him, Eli casts one quick look at me, and then returns to staring at the bread.

“At least let me make you a sandwich,” Clement says, motioning for me to come into the kitchen. “Eli and I have eaten enough ham to last us a thousand years.”

“That’s okay. I’m not really hungry, and I—with the ferry and stuff, I have to get there, so …”

“Oh,” Clement says, sounding surprised. “Well, let me and Eli walk you out, all right?”

I nod, a little worried about what saying good-bye to Eli might be like, but it turns out I don’t get a chance to talk to him at all because Clement actually does walk me to the door, chatting about the hospital as Eli trails behind him.

“See you tomorrow?” Clement asks, patting my arm, and when I nod again, he says, “Good. I’ll look for you. I’m working at the information desk because Phoebe Van Worley’s gone off to see her daughter, who just had a baby.”

I look back after I walk out and the last thing I see is Eli peering at me over Clement’s head—he’s taller than Clement is—a tentative smile on his face.

I smile back, but remember how I forgot Tess as soon as I’ve taken my bike out of Clement’s car. I head into Milford and pass the hospital feeling terrible, but it’s too late to stop now. If I do, I’ll see my parents, and I can’t bear the idea of sitting there watching them watch Tess.

I can’t bear for them to know that I haven’t seen her today.

I ride down to the ferry, and see Claire three cars up. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone, though, and don’t ride up to her after we’ve all boarded.

Instead, I sit on my bike listening to the brisk slap of the water against the ferry, and as we leave Milford I head up to the front of the boat to watch it, weaving around Claire’s car.

I’m not thinking about the water, though. I’m not even thinking about Tess.

I’m thinking about Eli, and how we almost kissed.

Is it a good thing that we didn’t? The sensible part of me says yes. Putting aside the Tess thing, which I can’t, of course I can’t, there’s the fact that I—

I can’t think of anything to go there other than that I’m scared. I don’t want what happened with Jack to happen to me again. I don’t want to fall and break my own heart.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Claire says.

I turn, startled, and see she’s standing right next to me.

“You didn’t come in today,” she says, and smiles at me. “Where were you?”

I shrug.

“Clement was looking for someone too,” she says, still smiling. “I heard him asking about Eli—guess he wasn’t around either. I wonder where he was?”

I shake my head at her. “That’s what you’ve got? You have to get better at this if you ever want Cole to talk to you once he’s past, say, six.”

“You were with Eli, weren’t you?” Claire singsongs, and when I flush, says, “I knew it! Tell me everything, with many details, as I have no life.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I saw him, we talked, and now I’m here talking to you.”

“Saw him where?” she says. “And you should hear how you said ‘talked.’” She drops her voice down on the last word, filling it with innuendo.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Which means it was.”

“Claire.”

“Abby,” she echoes back at me, and then nudges me with her elbow until I look at her.

“What?” I say.

“You deserve to be happy, you know,” she says. “I know everything’s changed because of Tess, but it doesn’t mean you have to stop living. Just because she’s not—”

“Don’t say ‘not here.’ She is here. You see her almost every day. Just because she isn’t awake doesn’t mean—”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Claire says. “What I was going to say is that just because Tess isn’t able to go back to her life right now, you don’t have to give up yours.”

“Nothing to give up,” I say, forcing my voice to sound light, like what we’re talking about means nothing to me. “I just spent a couple of hours with a guy. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I mean anything to him. I mean, you’ve seen him. He could have anyone.”

Claire shrugs. “Okay.”

I sigh, because I know what her “okay” means. “Okay what?”

“Nothing. Just—well, people who can have anyone still have to pick someone. And why can’t that someone be you?”

I gesture at myself. “You think there’s going to be a run on short, scrawny girls?”

“I’m no Tess either,” Claire says, “but once someone loved me.”

“Yeah, but you and Rick didn’t work out.”

She blinks, then nods and says, “But you don’t know it won’t work out with Eli. And stop trying to change the subject. Tell me more about today.”

So I tell her a little bit about going to Saint Andrew’s, skimming over the cafeteria stuff, which I feel belongs to Eli, is his story to tell if he chooses.

And Eli chose to share his story with me.

“Okay, you’re smiling, but you’ve stopped talking,” Claire says. “So you left the school and—wait, I know. You went to his house, right?”

“Yes,” I say, and when she makes a go-on motion I shake my head at her. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, you lie. I can tell from the way you’re—holy shit, you’re blushing!”

“Shut up,” I mutter, and she laughs, saying, “So, you’re at his house and then …”

“I was at his house for a while and then I left. That’s it.”

“Abby …”

“Really, that’s all, I swear,” I say. “I mean, we almost sort of kissed …”

Claire throws both arms up in a victory sign until I elbow her and say, “Quit it. It’s not a big deal.”

“The fact that it took me this long to get you to tell me that means it’s a huge deal. And I meant what I said before, you know. You deserve to be happy.”

I want to believe her. I desperately want to believe her—in fact, I want to beg her to tell me again—so I change the subject. “Did you see my parents today?”

“No, they weren’t there when I left. Why? Do you think they’ll find out you weren’t at the hospital? Would they—do they make you see Tess every day?”

“No,” I say. “Nothing like that. It’s just … I hope they’re okay. Yesterday Beth dropped all of Tess’s stuff off, just drove up with it in boxes and then left. She says Tess said she was going to move out, and she’s living with someone else now, but how hard is it to hold on to your roommate’s things? Especially when it’s someone you’ve lived with for …” I trail off, something about everything I’ve just said making my head spin.

“Well, maybe her dorm room is small?”

“They had an apartment,” I say absently. “Tess said she and Beth wanted more space, so they moved off campus together after their freshman year.”

And that’s when it hits me. What Beth was trying to say about why she and Tess had decided to stop living together when I saw her in the hospital. How I saw Beth touching Tess’s hair, and the look on her face when she did.

The way she looked at Tess when she thought there was no one around to see. The sadness.

The love.

Beth and Tess weren’t roommates. Beth and Tess were living together. I think of all the times Tess came home, and how Beth was almost always with her. I think of all the pictures Tess had, all those guys. And always, in every single picture, Beth was there holding the camera. Beth, who Tess was really looking at.

Beth and Tess were together.

“Holy shit,” I breathe.

“What?” Claire says, and I tell her. Her eyes go wide, but I can’t quite read the expression in them.

“Did you know?” I ask, but I don’t get to hear her answer because the ferry docks and we all have to go back to our cars. Or, in my case, bike.

I think Claire will wait for me when I get off the ferry, drive me home so we can talk more about what I’ve just realized, but she doesn’t.

I’m not that surprised, though. If I’m shocked, she must be … I can’t even imagine what she must feel. Tess, with her endless string of boyfriends, goes off to college and falls for her roommate. Her girl roommate.

I ride home, dazed, and just sit in the living room, thinking. When Mom and Dad get home, I look at them. I wonder if they know.

I look at them, at their tired faces, their sad eyes, and no, I don’t think they do. I didn’t know, and I saw more of the true Tess—her sweetness and the dark underneath it—than Mom and Dad ever did.

Should I tell them?

No. It isn’t my story to tell. It was Tess’s, and if she’d wanted to share it, she would have. But she kept it to herself.

We all have our own untold stories, and maybe this is what I can give Tess. I can let her keep her story, the hidden part of her heart, close to herself.

I just—I hope it is still with her. I hope that the self she knows is still somewhere inside her. I hope she …

I hope that deep inside, in the places none of us have been able to reach, that Tess is still there.

thirty-five

Now that I know about Beth, having Eli talk to Tess
is—well, having him talk to her isn’t necessary. But then, deep down, I know it hasn’t really been about her, not like I wanted it to be since the first time I looked up from sitting with her and saw him looking at me.

Eli’s waiting for me when I get to the hospital, sitting in the waiting room leaning intently over his notebook, pen in hand.

He looks up when I come in, though, like he knew I was coming. Like he’s been waiting for me.

I tell myself to put a clamp on my brain. I know my heart isn’t the problem. The heart is just a muscle and what makes it beat faster is the thoughts pounding in my head, Eli’s name kick-thudding through me.

The brain clamp isn’t really working, though, and I swear I feel it crack when he sees me and smiles. I force myself to think of Jack’s face when he spoke about Tess, to remember how sure I was that I could make it change, that I could make that look mine. That I could make it about me.

The thing is, Eli’s never once looked at Tess like Jack did.

The thing is, Eli’s not Jack.

The thing is, I have no idea what to do. I haven’t ever been wanted before, and even though part of me fears I’m seeing something that isn’t there, an even bigger part of me fears that I am seeing something I never have before. That I am seeing something real—and for me.

“Hey,” I say, before he can say anything. “I—this isn’t—Tess’s not getting any better. And I don’t … I don’t know if she ever will.”

I didn’t realize how true it would sound, how true I’m afraid it is, until I say it. For all the rage and fear that has driven me to the hospital day after day, something else has too. Hope.

I did believe Tess would wake up. I couldn’t imagine a world without her fully in it. And trying to picture it now leaves me facing another truth I thought I’d grasped but really hadn’t.

I love Tess. I want better for her than this. I want her to come back, to be here, to be whole.

“I’m sorry,” Eli says, and I have heard those words like rain for months, over and over again, but they are new now. Eli is looking at me, and I see that he means he is sorry for me. For how I feel. He has always been able to cut through the words I push out, but it’s more than that.

He sees me.

I’m going to tell him he doesn’t have to meet me anymore. I’m going to say thank you if my lips can remember how to form those words. I’m going to …

“I’m going to go see her,” I say. “Do you—do you want to come with me?”

I am—I have—said what I want to. For someone who is so good at snarling people away, I sure suck at it now.

But then, I don’t want Eli to go. I wish I was better at lying to myself, but that wish vanishes as he smiles and says, “Yeah, of course,” like there was never a question at all.

We pass Clement as we’re walking to Tess’s unit. He waves at us and says, “Abby, maybe I’ll see you soon?”

“Like, right now?” I say, and he laughs his wheezy laugh and heads down the hall.

“He really likes you, you know,” Eli says. “Told me I should invite you over to the house again.”

“What, he has more ham he wants to unload?” I say as lightly as I can, simple words to replace the ones I want to say. The question I want to ask.

Do you want to see me again?

“Probably, but I promise I’ll throw out all the ham if you’re willing to come over for dinner one night,” Eli says, his voice so quiet, so unsure, that I stop and look at him.

I can’t talk; I have no words to shield myself with now. I don’t want to shield myself. I nod. Yes, I will come over, yes, I am willing.
Yes.

He grins at me then, so wide and lovely I actually feel lightheaded.

I wonder how many people Tess did that to with her smile. If Beth once felt like I do now, caught and glad to be.

“What is it?” Eli says, and I can’t believe how well he sees me. It makes me happy and scared and—it makes me feel a million things at once.

“Tess,” I say. “I was just thinking about her because she—she had this way of smiling, you know? Like it was all you could see.” I hear myself say “had” and want to change it, want to make it “has.” But I can’t. I know the truth now, have to face what I haven’t wanted to see.

I turn away and start walking down the hall again. I feel myself relax when I hear Eli’s footsteps behind me.

I let myself be glad he’s with me.

“So, how come you call Clement, well—Clement?” I ask as we’re waiting for the nurses to let us in.

“He says my dad called him Dad and acted like he didn’t know him, so we could either pretend to be ‘family’ and I could call him Grandfather or something, or we could try being one, or even just try being two people who like each other enough to be more than a title,” Eli says.

“He’s kind of upset with your dad, I guess.”

“No, sad,” Eli says. “Not that he’d ever say it, I don’t think, but it’s hard to know that someone who’s supposed to love you doesn’t even want to see you.”

I reach out, let my hand brush against Eli’s. He turns his hand so our fingers tangle together, comfort without words as the buzzer sounds and we walk through the doors.

I watch the nurses take us in, our clasped hands, watch them turn toward each other, and then I pause by Tess’s door, look inside her room. Look at her.

So still, so quiet. So alone.

“I have to tell you something,” I say quietly, and I don’t know if I’m talking to her or Eli or both of them.

And then I drop Eli’s hand and walk into Tess’s room, sit in the chair I always sit in. I turn it so it’s a little closer to her bed. To her.

I look up, over to where Eli has sat, and he’s there, looking at me.

“Tess,” I say, looking back at her and thinking about Beth, about her touching Tess’s hair, about her face when I asked her how she could act like Tess wasn’t coming back. About those boxes, sitting lonely on the front lawn. “Tess, I—”

I don’t tell her that I know her story. I tell her mine instead.

I tell her about Jack. I say all the things I didn’t that summer, forgetting everything, even Eli, as the words pour out of me, right down to how loud the river sounded when I sat there after Jack said he was sorry, so sorry, and left.

“And the worst part was, I couldn’t hate him,” I tell her. “I couldn’t hate you, even. I just … I thought I’d found someone who wanted to be with me. Kiss me. But I wouldn’t let myself see what was obvious. I’m not you. I’m never going to be you.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t do anything.

But Eli does. Eli gets out of his chair—I hear the sound of it moving back as he stands, and I look up, surprised, and see him walking toward me—and then he is there, kneeling right in front of me, and all the certainty I felt before is gone. He is too beautiful for me, someone else will see that and worse, see that inside he is gorgeous too, and I am all thorns and loss and anger with bony knees and then—

And then he kisses me.