Deep Blue Secret (7 page)

She cleared her throat. “Well, I didn't know her
that
well. She was old. She lived a long and full life. I'm fine with it.”

Was she trying to convince me or her?

“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “But you know it’s okay to feel sad, right? I mean, you don't need to hide your feelings for my sake.”

“Don't worry about me, sweetheart. I'm fine.” She patted the top of my hand.

“Enough about me, I want to hear about your day.”  She tucked one leg under her with a bounce. I recognized her fake,
happy
face.

I didn’t push the subject. She had a rough night and I didn't want to upset her. It would be hypocritical of me to expect her to open up anyway, since I wasn't being completely upfront about everything either.

“It wasn't anything special,” I said. “Just long and boring really.”

“Come on, you have to give me more than that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, all right.”

I scanned the events of my day looking for a safe subject of conversation. There wasn’t anything from this afternoon I wanted to tell her about, especially not the depression or the near-drowning accident. So I had to think back to school, which seemed like forever ago, and remembered my conversation with Nick Christensen.

“Well, I have a date this Friday,” I finally said.

She clapped her hands like a child at Christmas. I had a feeling she would like that.

“Really? You should’ve told me sooner, silly.” She swatted my knee as if it were a crime I withheld such wonderful news from her. “So who are you going with? What is he like?”

It was hard to feel her enthusiasm about my date with Nick when I knew the mystery boy was out there somewhere.

“His name is Nick, but I don't actually know him that well.”

“That's not a big deal,” she said. “That's why you go on dates, to get to know each other.”

I tried to give her a smile. “Maybe you're right. He seems harmless enough.”

She attempted to conceal a yawn. “So what are you guys planning to do?”

She looked like she needed rest, but I knew she would try to keep going. I thought I'd let her off the hook. Plus, I was exhausted after such a long day.

“Actually, Mom, I'm pretty tired. Is it okay if we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Of course we can. I didn't mean to keep you up so late.”

She gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, Sadie-bear.”

“Night, Mom.”

I threw on my pajamas and slid under the sheets in my bed, ready for the day to be over. As soon as I closed my eyes, my body melted into the mattress like chocolate on a hot summer sidewalk.

***

The next morning I prepared for the day as usual. I didn’t wear my rescuer’s faded, black sweater to school, but I did grab his intriguing silver flask with the mystery liquid inside. I wasn’t sure why I brought it with me. I guess I just wanted to know that a small part of him would be near me all day.

I walked down the hallway expecting to find my mom but she wasn't around. The kitchen was empty too. That was odd. I went back to her room and knocked on the door.

“Mom?”

It was quiet for a moment, then the patter of footsteps. The door swung open. She was half dressed, her head wrapped in a towel. I couldn’t remember the last time I was ready for the day before her.

“Morning.” She hopped on one foot yanking a sock over the other. “Sorry, I'm running a little behind. Give me just a minute and I'll get breakfast started.”

I couldn't help but laugh at her. She leaned against the edge of her bed, the decorative pillows aligned neatly. Even when she was late, she never left the house without her bed in perfect order. It had something to do with an article she read about making your room a stress-free sanctuary.

“No, don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll feed myself. I just want cereal.”

“Are you sure? I'm almost ready.”

“Didn't I tell you?” I said. “Cereal is my new favorite food. You have your meal and a beverage all in one. It's like killing two birds with one stone.”

“Looks like I raised a multi-tasker.” She pulled a tank top over her head while hovering over her jewelry box at the same time.

“Careful,” she joked, “you could end up like your mother.”

She dropped an earring and plopped on the floor to search for it.

I spotted it just behind her, hiding among the fibers of the carpet. “Here it is,” I said.

She shoved it in her ear. “Thanks, sweetie, what would I do without you?”

I laughed. “I don't even want to imagine.”

She laced her tennis shoe. “I'm heading to yoga class this morning. I think I could use the extra endorphins.”

“That sounds so good right now,” I said. “Maybe I should work out when I get home tonight.” I made a mental note of the idea.

“Oh that reminds me,” she said. “I'm thinking about riding my bike to work today. So don't worry if you see my car here later and I'm not home.”

“You're riding your bike? I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Don't be silly,” she said, arranging her damp hair in a bun. “It's only a few miles away.” She turned to face me. “You think your mother’s getting too old to ride her bike a few miles down the road?”

“No, that's not what I meant, at all. Not even close. You're more fit than most people
my
age.” I didn’t have to lie. She was incredibly in-shape for her age.

The lines smoothed on her face, content with my answer.

“You just get off work so late,” I explained. “I thought it might not be safe to ride your bike home alone.”

“Oh you don't need to worry about that. I arranged a ride home with Mar– ” She stopped and corrected herself. “Dr. Jensen. He has a bike rack on his car. He offered to take me home anytime I want to ride my bike to work.”

I knew exactly who she was talking about, Dr. Mark A. Jensen. I'd met him a couple of times over at the hospital. He was hard to miss.

My tone was thick with implication. “Oh
really
? The most gorgeous and single doctor at the hospital just happened to offer you a ride, any time you want?”

“It's not like that, Sadie.” Her voice was abrupt, but her tone softened. “He’s very handsome. But don't worry, we're just friends.”

I never understood why my mom was so unwilling to open herself up to meeting someone. I could barely convince her to go on dates, let alone get into a serious relationship.

“That's exactly what I
am
worried about. You have handsome men interested in you, but you won't give them the time of day.”

“Oh please, that’s not true.”

I folded my arms to my chest and sent her a look that said I wasn’t convinced.

“I just want to focus on what's most important right now…that’s my career.” She paused then added, “And spending time with my adorable, irrationaldaughter, who suddenly thinks that she's the parent…”

She made light of the situation, as usual. Of course, most of the time, I was happy to live in ignorant bliss right along with her.

“Whatever do you mean?” I joked. There really was no use in fighting her.

She grabbed her keys off the night stand. “I have to get going, sweetheart. Have a great day, okay?” She kissed my forehead with an exaggerated puckering sound. “And try to loosen up, Sadie-bear. You seem so serious lately. It’s not like you.”

Mom scurried out the door as I mumbled under my breath, “I know.”

At school, Heather and I walked to first period as usual. She asked me to come to her house tomorrow night to keep her company. Her parents were planning to be gone all evening at a tie-up, which was basically a bunch of people tying their boats together out in the harbor to have a party. Heather didn't live right on the harbor, but her parents owned a mooring to anchor their boat there. They'd been hanging out with the harbor crowd a lot lately.

“My parents said I was old enough to, like, come with them if I wanted,” Heather said, sounding completely disturbed by the idea.

“Maybe it would be fun,” I said. She looked at me like I should be condemned to an institution.

Her voice was dry with sarcasm. “You're hilarious, Sade. Being trapped in the middle of the harbor with a bunch of drunk, old fogies is not exactly my idea of a good time.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. But your parents aren't thatold. It's not like they need walkers to get around.”

“Well they're old to me,” she said, annoyed. “So are you coming tomorrow, or what? My stupid brother's sleeping at a friend's house so we’ll have the whole place to ourselves to do whatever.”

I wasn’t really in the mood to hang out, but maybe staying busy would help me avoid another emotional episode and keep my mind off the mysterious boy I had no way to find.

“Sure, I'll come,” I said.

She smiled, but it looked almost devious. “Good. And I want to go in the hot tub, so bring a cute bikini. No frumpy one-piece suits allowed at my house.”

“Uh, okay,” I said, confused why it mattered what I wore. It was just going to be the two of us. Then again, this was Heather I was talking to. Fashion was a top priority.

I was bummed her younger brother, Danny, wasn’t going to be there. He was adorable. Last time I came over he rummaged through the neighborhood picking flowers to make me a bouquet. Of course, he always did things to purposely bother Heather, but I found it entertaining.

“So Danny’s not going to be home?” I said. “That’s too bad.”

She gave me a horrified look.

“What?” I replied innocently. “I think he’s cute.”

She laughed without humor. “Yeah, but you like everybody. You've probably never had a bad thought about anyone since the day we met in second grade.”

What was wrong with her today? She was acting so snotty. Since when was it a crime to like people? Maybe if Heather tried it once in a while, she might see where I was coming from.

“That's not true,” I said, folding my arms. “There are a lot of mean people out there, and I don’t like
them
.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wouldn't hurt a fly and you know it.” She didn't mean it as a compliment.

We left the hallway, now growing sparse of students, and entered the classroom.

Heather waved her hand in the air as if shooing away a pest. “Now go sit down, before you sprout angel wings or something.”

I spent the first ten minutes of class wondering why Heather seemed so annoyed with me. She did still invite me to her house though. I was probably just reading into things. I figured she was just in a bad mood. Maybe her brother made her mad this morning or something.

After that my mind went straight back to daydreaming about my forever lost, mystery boy.

Second period was more of the same. I took out the small flask in my pocket that I put there this morning. Instead of listening to my teacher’s lecture, I studied the intricate artwork in the silver, wishing I knew what the substance inside could be.

At break I still felt a small hope that he would walk through the crowded school grounds just like he did Monday, but no, the beautiful green eyes were nowhere in sight.

At lunch Heather teased me repeatedly as we ate.
Why are you so distracted? Is there someone special you're hoping to see?
She assumed I was thinking about Nick Christensen which was of course way off. It actually seemed like she wouldn't stop talking about him. Maybe
she
should be going out with him tomorrow. Then again, a whole day at Disneyland would be a great way to keep my mind off the boy from the beach—if that was even possible.

After Spanish class I was a little nervous about going to photography today, fearing another traumatic, emotional experience.

Mr. Brown presented another Ansel Adams piece, making it a theme for the week. But when he displayed
Jeffrey Pine, Sentinel Dome
to the class, it didn't even faze me. The tree could’ve been perceived as depressing, the way it hung low and billowed over like it was crying, but I didn’t have any problems with my emotions.

Instead, all I could picture was the mystery guy poking his face from behind the trunk, winking at me, taunting me to chase him.

After school I went straight home and decided to get my homework out of the way, but not before wrapping myself back in the black hooded sweatshirt I left on my bed this morning.

I didn’t have a desk in my bedroom so I usually worked in the center room of the house, the computer room as my mom called it. I believed the standard term was home office, but my mother despised the word
office
.

After she had me she continued working at the hospital for a while, but when my grandparents died she was left on her own. Her schedule was too difficult to maintain while trying to raise a child by herself and she couldn’t find a job with a day shift at a doctor’s office. So she gave up what she loved to be home and take care of me.

She worked reception at a large insurance company for several years, but she never enjoyed it.

I could tell she was unhappy. One time I overheard her talking about it on the phone. She said she felt like an animal trapped inside a tiny cage that was draining the life right out of her.  She would never say that to
me
though. She was talented at masking her feelings and putting on a happy face. Once I was old enough to be home alone I talked her into going back to the hospital and she seemed much happier now.

I scooted my chair to the L-shaped desk and opened my math book. It took me a good hour to complete. I had to keep flipping back to review the example problems, probably due to my trouble listening to the teacher this morning. But I figured it out eventually.

A crick formed in my neck from hunching over my books. All I had left was some reading for Econ, so I moved to my bed to get more comfortable. I lay on my stomach using a pillow to rest my chest on, legs crossed in the air.

Supply and demand wasn’t exactly the most interesting subject in my opinion. It made sense how it worked—out there in the business world—but I wondered if it would ever be relevant information for me in the future. If it was, would I even remember any of it by then? It felt pretty irrelevant to my life at the moment.