Come Back to Me (23 page)

Funny that
it felt premature to say I considered him my boyfriend, but a big part of me
wanted to tell him I loved him.

Am I
mentally stable?

I put my
phone in my lap and leaned my head back as the train rumbled toward home.

I laughed a
little, further questioning my stability, but it was only because my dad would think
I was flaky when I told him what I wanted to do.

Part of me
was excited I made a choice, and part of me felt sick to my stomach.  My dad
was totally going to question my changing plans.  He might not even pay for
college.  But I would figure this out one step at a time.  Even if something
sucky or random happened, as long as I was here, I still had some choice in the
matter.  My reaction, my attitude—those were all mine.

I was
nervous, but I didn’t have to let my nerves consume me.  I didn’t have to run
and hide in my closet.  What would be the point?  I needed to be clear and
ready to take another path if I had to.  It was my life.

* * *

Becky, my
dad’s secretary waved at me as I walked into his office.  I forced a smile and
then the minute I saw my dad, I launched into a shaky but practiced speech
about loans and work-study.

My dad
interrupted me, holding a hand up in dismissal.  “I don’t know why you’re
telling me all this.  You’re my daughter, and your education is my
responsibility.”

I let out a
breath.  “But I don’t… I mean about Colson…”

Dad closed
his eyes briefly and shook his head.  It was what he did whenever he needed to
shift gears.  He opened his eyes.

“It’s all
taken care of, Whitney.  Colson has reinstated your acceptance status but not
the scholarship,” he said, looking like the last word was distasteful.  Or
maybe it just seemed like that after Lauren’s joke.

“No, I get
it.  Thanks.  I really appreciate it, but um, I don’t want to go.” I cringed,
knowing he would think I waited too long for him to “call in his favors.”  Even
though I didn’t need him to do that.  I already called Holt and spoke with the
admissions office.

My dad
looked at me, but he was quiet.  It was worse than I thought.

He turned
and pressed a button on his computer, waking it up.  I wasn’t sure if he was
mad or disappointed.  I couldn’t read him at all.  I thought of what Lauren
told me, how he reacted to her choices, and his silence confused me.  What did
that mean?

Is he
writing me off?

I knew I’d done
plenty of things in the last year to embarrass him and my mom.  I would’ve
thought that knowledge would’ve made my life easier, that I should’ve been
happy about the idea that my dad could cut me a check as a consolation prize,
especially considering my plan to leave Bloom involved being far away and
untethered to my parents.  I would’ve thought it would’ve made my life simpler.
No strings attached.  Except when I realized that it meant they would be untangling
our lives from their end, too, it scared me, and surprised me at the same time.

The silence
stretched and still he didn’t look at me.

What if I
gave him more details?  My dad, the lawyer, never jumped to the letter Z
without first going through the alphabet.

“I want to
go to Holt.  I’m not sure what I want to study, but I know-”  I paused for a
moment of insecurity.  “I should’ve applied there from the start.  I always
loved it there.  Holt has that amazing library.  Do you remember it?”

He nodded while
still studying his computer screen.  “It’s your choice.  After talking to those
bastards over at Colson, I’ll be happy if they don’t see a dime of my money. 
But if you change your mind, don’t wait too long.  I don’t want to be calling
in favors at the eleventh hour.”

“What? 
You’re not mad?”

“Mad?”  My
dad’s gaze slid toward me for a split second, and he did one of those curious,
short laughs.  “No.  Paying for your education is my responsibility, then the
rest is up to you. All I need to know is where to send the checks.”

My heart
thudded for a moment.  I had walked into his office prepared for the negative,
waiting for the writing off part, because his words hinted at or, at the very
least, reminded me of what happened with my sister (although on a smaller
emotional scale).

“You know
what you have to do,” he said.  “Thankfully, you seem to have gotten over your
challenges and are moving in a positive direction.  Good for you.”

It was weird
hearing how my dad summarized my recent past, making me sound like I’d made a
big, dramatic deal over some non-specific “challenges.”  It was almost as if
his verdict reduced me. 
Almost
, because that was his perception, and I
didn’t have to use it to define me.  Plus, whether it was actual support or
taking care of an obligation, I still got what I needed from him.

Or rather,
what he offered.

I knew that
even if I didn’t “disown” my parents or they me, it wasn’t like any of us could
force each other to be a certain way just because we showed up as a family.

That emotional
distance made me think of Katie.  She never figured out how to let me in when
it came to her mom, and I certainly never discussed my drinking.  Neither of us
talked about the wedge between us.  Still, we went through the motions of
friendship, never fully realizing it or convincing one another about anything
that mattered.  I think we both knew there was a problem, but we were scared to
bring it up, or too stubborn.  But I didn’t want to live that way anymore, not
when life was so short, so unpredictable.  I could control my own actions,
which was why I was straightforward with my dad about what my plans were for
now—I hoped that it would foster some sort of openness, like I laid all my
cards out on the table.

Maybe.

I couldn’t
force anything, just like I couldn’t tether my happiness to anyone.  I needed
to be my own rock.

But like
Sylvester, the donkey turned into an unidentifiable rock, I hoped that those
that I loved would eventually see me for who I really was.

The next day,
Kyle called me.  He sounded frantic, and he wasn’t making any sense.  I lost
the connection, and when I tried him back, all I got was his voice mail.

I texted
him. 
Where are you?

The
quarry.

I left out
my back door, running through the shallow woods and across the golf course, until
I reached the bottom of Dogwood Road.  I passed Jake Adler’s house and saw Kyle’s
car parked on the dirt road.

I scrambled
down the path, stray rocks collecting inside my shoe.  My sequined Converse
shoe.  Not exactly the right shoes to be wearing in an emergency that involved
running.

I called out
Kyle’s name along the way, because halfway through my sprint there, he stopped
answering my calls and texts.  My voice echoed out of the trees and back against
the rock walls.

The beach
was empty, save for a few crushed beer cans.  The water’s surface was clear and
flat.  From my angle, I couldn’t see the shadows underneath.  I shivered, then
dropped my head, searching the ground for Kyle’s footprints, but there were none.

I looked up
and across the quarry, toward the highest wall, the one from which Dave Keller
took his last dive, but there was no movement above.  I scanned all the walls
carefully.

Thirty feet
above me and to the left, I saw I flash of something.  I ran back up the path,
turning into the thick woods, and there was Kyle, sitting on an outcropping of
rock—on the wrong side of the fence.  I couldn’t see his feet.  They hung over
the edge, probably adding to the shadows I knew were on the water.

“Kyle, what
are you doing?” I asked, gulping air as I tried to catch my breath.

Kyle turned.
His eyes were heavy lidded, like they were when he was
H
drunk.  He mumbled something, and I edged closer.

“What?”

“I hate her,
Whit.”

I took a
step closer to him.  “Who?”

“Katie,” he
said through clenched teeth.  “Always Katie.  Always what Katie wanted.”

He dropped
his head back and growled.  The muscles in his neck flexed, pushing outward
like tree roots.

I tried to
swallow, but my mouth was too dry.

“She never
loved
me
.”  Kyle turned back to me, and as he did, the loose dirt and
stone under him shifted.  Kyle slid forward.

I ran to
him, bending myself over the fence.  It gave a little under me, and I held out
my arm.  “Take my hand!”

He grabbed
my hand.  Unshed tears pooled underneath Kyle’s red-rimmed eyes.  “I just wanted
her to love me.”

My heart
twisted.

“Hold on,” I
said to him, as I reached for my phone with my free hand.  My fingers shook,
making it even more difficult to maneuver my phone with the wrong hand.  I
managed to hit the button to dial the last number I called.

Evan.

“Pick up,
pick up,” I whispered.  He hadn’t called me back since I’d left that rambling,
desperate voice mail the day before.

I left another
message.  This one frantic, then when I hung up, I moved my shaking left thumb
to dial 911, but twice I hit eight instead of nine.  On my third try, Evan’s
name and number popped up on the screen.  He was calling me back.

Help was on
the way.

I took a
shaky breath. Sweat rolled from my forehead, past my ear, and my phone slipped
out of my left hand.

I leaned
closer to Kyle and held on to him with both hands.  “You’re okay.”

Kyle stared
out toward the water, blinking slowly. “Why did she dump me completely?  It was
a stupid mistake, but she didn’t have to…”

All that
time we spent together, and we never talked about what we’d done.  We sat in
the aftermath, frozen, because when Katie left us, we always thought it was
temporary, not an end, just one big question mark that she would eventually
answer for us.

“I know,” I
said quietly. “I think it’s why I clung to that memory of our Scrabble game.”

Kyle’s arm
shook, and his hand almost slid from my grasp.  “Why do you keep talking about
that fucking Scrabble thing?  I told you I don’t remember.”

“Okay, sorry,”
I said speaking more calmly than I felt.  I stared at his profile, focusing on
the fact that he was hurting.  Tears stabbed somewhere behind my eyes.  “I
wanted her to love me again, too, Kyle.”

The sounds
of the sirens echoed around us.  Then the paramedics took over, and I was
alone.

When I held
on to Kyle as he struggled at the edge, I found myself thinking again about Gosley
and rock climbing.

“Whitney. 
There’s a hand hold forty-five degrees to your right,” the guy at the bottom,
holding my rope had said.

I was maybe
ten feet off the ground, clinging to the artificial rock, my big toe shaking on
the tiny shelf.  I didn’t like it.  How was it holding me?  It was just a
couple of inches.  Snaking my hand to my right, I ran it along the bumpy
surface until I found the hold.  My fingers folded over it, but it felt too
small.

I was going
to fall.

“I have
you,” my belayer said.  “Lean back for a second. You’re not going anywhere.”

I wasn’t
going anywhere.

Still
holding on, I tested his statement.  I sat in my restraints a little.  There
was a tug of resistance.  He was right.  I shifted forward, then slipped, my
hands and toes losing their tiny footholds, and I fell.  I only moved a few
inches, but my heart plummeted.

Gripping the
rope in front of my face, I dangled, rolling side to side.  “Let me down,
please.”

“You sure? 
Because you’re really doing fine-”

“Please,” I
yelled, my voice echoing over the background music pumping throughout the gym.

I felt my
rope tug, then he lowered me to the floor.

In an
instant, Emily was by my side.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t
want to do this.  What’s the point? I don’t see how it’s going to help.”

“Then sit
here and watch everyone else.  Think about nothing else but this moment.  Be
here, in front of this wall, watching the climb.  If you have to, focus on her
toes, his fingers,” she said, pointing out the other climbers in various spots
on the wall.  “Clear your head and think about nothing except the climbers. 
Okay?”

I nodded, a
little freaked by her seriousness.  Emily was usually super chill, but today,
she was all business.

My eyes
travelled along the bumpy surface, watching as someone rang the bell at the
top.  It was too high.  I wasn’t embarrassed to admit I was too afraid.  I didn’t
want to get on the wall again, so I followed Emily’s instructions—I watched.

I knew now,
after holding on to Kyle, that the climbing had been about mastering the task
through fear, dealing with trust.  I couldn’t lose my grip.  I struggled to
remain calm, not only so my hands wouldn’t sweat anymore but because Kyle
needed me to be strong.  I’d used the still quarry waters as a focal point,
even pushing my gaze past the surface to the darkness underneath.  Once I
focused, I wasn’t afraid.