Come Back to Me (22 page)

The good
didn’t exist without the bad.  That I knew.  I just wasn’t sure what to do with
it.

* * *

“I’m glad
you’re here,” my sister said.  “I wanted to come see you after Katie died, but
mom said it wasn’t a good idea.”

“I got your
letter.  Thank you.”

Lauren put a
hand over mine on the bar.  “I really wanted to be there for you, but I didn’t
want to cause any trouble.”

I nodded.  I
knew.  I didn’t fault her.

“After what
dad did…” My sister stopped, her hand sliding from mine as she stood.  “I just…
I can’t be around them.  If they can’t accept…”

She looked
away for a moment before clearing her throat and turning back to me.  “I got
Brian Maser to record your graduation ceremony for me.”

“Really?”

She nodded. 
“You looked small.  I think he was in the nosebleed section.”

I smiled,
but I also felt sad that I missed her graduation from culinary school simply
because I followed my parents’ lead.  I didn’t even know she’d gone to school
again, until I heard about her new degree.

“How’s
Stephanie?”  I asked, thinking of Brian’s older sister.  Other than finding her
picture in Lauren’s old yearbook, I’d only seen her around Bloom once, in
Smoothie Palace.  She was not only beautiful but also super confident.  There
was no hesitation when she spotted Katie, Kyle, and me that day.  She simply
walked up to us and chatted with her girlfriend’s little sister, her colorful
beaded bracelets sliding up and down her forearm as she talked.

“Steph’s
great.” Lauren’s face shifted, softening at the mention.  “She’s actually in
Thailand shooting a magazine pictorial.”

My sister
refilled my soda.  “So tell me what’s going on.”

I thought of
Colson’s rejection, working at TEA, Evan, Kyle, Katie, my parents.  I didn’t
know how to put any of it together.  “Colson rejected me.”

“That’s
where you were going?  I thought for sure you would go to Holt.”

Holt was the
university near Fredericksburg, within walking distance to my grandmother’s
house.

“Well, I was
so pissed at Dad and Mom, I picked the one place that offered me a scholarship,
and now well, there’s no more scholarship, no more anything.  I think Dad is
threatening them to reinstate my admission status, even though I deserved to
lose it.  My grades tanked last semester.”

“Scholarship? 
I’m sure Dad loved that one.  A Denison on scholarship.”  Lauren laughed.

“But like I
said, I lost it, you know, senioritis…”

“You mean
your drinking? Come on, Whit. I heard about your car and Gosley.  Did you pick
Colson for any other reason, like classes or anything interesting?”

I shook my
head.

“So the
classic cutting your nose off to spite your face.”

“That’s
exactly what Katie said, but I was just so angry, and now, well, I don’t know. 
I definitely don’t have money of my own. I guess I can get a loan or
something.  Maybe do community college, but ugh, that would mean another year
in Bloom.”

“Look. Just
because you go to school on Dad’s dime, doesn’t mean you’re obligated for
life.  Besides, you could always pay them back, or get loans, but you don’t
have to.  They want to pay.  Even if you’re going to college to find yourself,
it doesn’t matter.  Although I’m pretty sure they’re hoping it will all turn
out in their favor, that you’ll be the daughter who completes their idea of the
perfect family.”

I cringed,
but I couldn’t think of anything to refute what she said other than, “They
still love you.”

Lauren
sighed.  Her eyes focused for a moment on something behind me.  “Have you ever
met Stephanie and Brian’s parents?”

“No.”

“Once a
month, they come into the city and take us out for dinner.  We talk regularly. 
They were both at my culinary school graduation.  You know what Dad said when I
brought Steph to Sunday dinner five years ago?”

I tried to
remember what she was talking about, but it didn’t seem familiar.

“You weren’t
there.  You were on your way back from a trip to Grandma’s house. It was why I
picked that weekend to tell them.  I knew we were going to get some resistance
from Mom and Dad, and I didn’t want you to get stuck in any drama.”

I thought
back to that week.  I remembered how annoyed my mom was when she saw my pecan
stained hands.  Katie and I had shelled pecans to make pie but ended up with
fingers and palms tinted a deep shade of brown.  My mom yelled at me, looking
for something that could bleach my hands.  At the time, I thought it was
because she didn’t want me to go to Felicia Bennett’s class with dirty looking
hands, especially because it was high tea week, but apparently, bigger things
had been on my mom’s mind.

“So what
happened?”

Lauren
suddenly looked tired, defeated almost.  “Dad said nothing.  He left the
table.  A week later, I got a letter in the mail from Dad’s office with a
check.  Basically, the check was his final fatherly payment, and the letter
noted that I was no longer in the will.  He wrote me off.  Legally.”

My stomach
dropped. I felt sick and a little ashamed.  Tears stung the back of my eyes. 
“Lauren, I had no idea.”

She reached
across the bar and squeezed my hand.  “Oh my little Whittle,” she said, using
the nickname she called me ages ago.  “I’m okay.  More than okay.  Besides,
when Dad sent me that check, not only did I go to culinary school, I wrote a
huge
check to PFLAG—parents, family, and friends of lesbians and gay—in his name.”

Laughter
bubbled up, mingling in my throat with the tears that threatened to fall.

“But what if
I-”

“Realize
you’re a lesbian?”

Evan came to
mind, his smile, his arms, his strength, all of which made me want to jump in
his arms and kiss him.  “No, I’m pretty sure I’m straight.  I mean, what if I
decide what I want in my life, but Dad doesn’t approve, then what?”

“I don’t
think Dad will ever change, and Mom-” Lauren paused, shook her head slowly. 
“Mom is one midlife crisis away from change, whatever that ends up being.  So
you need to stop trying to please them, and follow your own heart.  You’re
smart, adventurous, and determined.  When you figure out your calling, you’ll
know, and you’ll go for it.  There’s nothing to worry about it.  And just so
you know, you can always lean on me.  You won’t be without family.  You won’t
be lonely.  Is there a chance that you could get written off by Dad?”

Lauren shrugged,
and my heart sunk, but then she added, “I seriously doubt it, but if for some
reason that happened, it’s not like you’d be homeless.  You’ve got me.”

Lauren popped
the lid from the container I brought and pulled out a walnut studded pumpkin
cookie.  She took a bite and grinned at me.  She was so smart and
straightforward, like our dad.  She had our mom’s looks and her love of
cooking.  Lauren carried both of our parents with her, whether they knew or
not, whether she wanted to or not.

But the relationships—or
lack of them, that she had with my parents was one of their own making.  It was
not mine.  I had my own to define.

It was
amazing to see my sister, to talk to her, to recognize the parts we had in
common, but most of all to know she was there for me.

* * *

Falling
asleep in my sister’s apartment that night, my thoughts were calm.  For once,
my heart wasn’t on guard, prepared to pound triple time at the next stressful
moment or negative thought.  I rolled to my side, pulling my grandmother’s quilt
with me.  The springs on the pullout couch creaked, but my heart retained a
normal rhythm.

I thought
about my walk through the streets of my sister’s neighborhood.  I ended up in a
tiny French inspired café, where I sat and considered the receipt that Kiki had
found.  That small piece of paper somehow managed to smooth away some of the
stony edges inside of me, like paper covers rock.  It softened me.

On the receipt
side, it listed a drink called the Royal Plum—it was from Smoothie Palace. 
That Katie no longer boycotted Smoothie Palace was surprising. Katie and I used
to go there to get her vegan mango soy shake—until Katie noticed the guy subbed
sugar for agave syrup.  The sugar was a bone of contention for her—literally,
because she said regular sugar was filtered using bone char and therefore
unacceptable to an animal loving vegan.  Anyway, the manager offered to make it
with maple syrup (he was out of agave) and complimentary, even handing her a
fistful of coupons but to no avail.  She boycotted Smoothie Palace.

Just like
she boycotted Kyle and me.

I also noted
the date on the receipt.  It was a week before prom, ten days before she died. 
But I also checked the time on the receipt:  8:19.  It was significant to me
because it was also my birthday, August 19.  Katie and I used to make a wish
whenever we saw the times that represented my birthday or hers (10:13).

Had she
thought about the eighteen things when she saw the time on the receipt?  I
didn’t know, but the fact that she no longer boycotted Smoothie Palace meant
something had changed for her.

Maybe if
she’d had more time…

The
streetlight outside the window cut a swath of light over me, and I stared at
the red, white, and blue fabric scraps sewn together in what appeared to be no
order whatsoever, overlapping into a cheerful mess of floral prints, stripes,
and solids.  It was a crazy quilt, one my grandmother had sewn years ago.  Ironic
now, but I looked at it as an extra help in diffusing my own crazies, and the
guilt I once thought was unshakeable.

Now wrapped
up in the quilt, I smothered all that anxiety with cozy.  My lungs expanded.

I could
breathe.

My thoughts
moved to my grandmother’s house, one hour south of Bloom.  It was an old house,
but very well kept, blue with white decorative detailing at the porch eave.  A
big bay window and a cottage garden were on one side, bursting with colorful
flowers, birds, and butterflies.

I loved the huge
wraparound porch with hanging ferns or flower baskets, depending on the season.
With the cushioned wicker couch, it was a great place to read.  If it was too
hot, then Holt University was only a ten-minute walk away.  The campus was
another not to be missed sight with its white steeple church, rooftop
observatory, stone buildings, and my favorite: the library with the glass
rotunda.

All of it
was a happy memory, coziness for my weary mind.

Drifting
toward sleep, I hovered in that middle, almost dream place.  There, I found my
thoughts moving to the Adler’s library.  I saw the Scrabble board, the tiles. 
I could almost make out the words.  Negaton?  My mouth curved into a slow,
sleepy smile.  Was that the Godzilla part?  No, it didn’t seem right.

I tried to
focus. The tiles were so fuzzy, but there was a word.  Abnegation.  My mind floated
away, registering it only as a boring SAT word.

My attention
turned to thoughts of Evan.  I didn’t know if we could still work, but I found
myself smiling anyway.

Then I fell
asleep.

When I left
my sister, I felt buoyed, lighter, but no longer aimlessly drifting.  Raised up,
I saw only possibility and hope.

Lauren was a
new carabineer, my strongest by far.  I imagined clipping myself firmly to the
side of a rock wall.

On the
train, I closed my eyes, envisioning the closest wall I knew. White Rock
Quarry.  I pictured the jagged rock with its silver veins and the black surface
of water below.  The tips of tree roots splayed over the edge, looking like
they needed a place to burrow.  Beyond that was the tree canopy.  It was dark
in my mind, but I envisioned green, on a background of fluffy, white clouds.

So close, I
felt like I could touch the sky.

On my way
home, I texted Evan, but I got no response.  Finally, I left him a voice mail,
my words tumbling out.

“I’m sorry,
but I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve had people in my life,” I said, trying
to explain my behavior.  “I’m figuring out how to balance things.  I don’t
know, but you have to believe me.  Kyle he’s not… We’re not… I mean, he’s not
my boyfriend.”

I stopped,
imagining Evan’s voice mail filling with blank, bloated air.

I wanted to
say that I considered
him
my boyfriend, but it felt forced after the way
things went down the last time I saw him.  We’d been moving too fast anyway.

“I need you
to know I wasn’t drinking that night in the quarry—although, since I’m being
honest, you have to know that I came close.  But I stopped because, well, I
don’t want to go there anymore.  I haven’t at all, not that day you saw me in
the parking lot either-”

I stopped to
swallow. My throat had gone dry.

“It was
stupid, but I thought I would just keep that bottle in my pocket, like some
oddball good luck charm.  Um, so yeah.  I wasn’t drinking.  I haven’t been
drinking—and I wanted you to know that.  I just… I don’t know if I can fix
this.  Can you call me?”