Giftchild (31 page)

I smiled. Most of my friends would be pissed if their parents decided to get more involved in their lives in their last two years of high school. But Mom was right. We did need to make up some time.

I looked down at my picture of the tree behind the moon. "I could teach you how to take pictures," I said.

Mom laughed. "You can try," she said. "But really, I'd just like to look at more of yours."

But then what? Mom was right. In a year and a half, I'd be gone. And Mom would still be in her mid thirties, already an empty nester. "What about after that?"

The moon reflected in Mom's eyes. "I was thinking about foster care," she said. "I never wanted to do it before, because I didn't think it would be fair to you and Athena. Foster kids have been through a lot. You never know what kind of problems you'll be dealing with." Mom looked down at the grass. "But everybody thinks that way, you know? Everybody wants a baby. And your dad and I would be in a position where maybe we could do some good."

I thought about that, about children without parents moving in and out of Mom's home. Not babies, but kids for my mother to love. Family, but a different kind.

And for the first time, I could picture it: a happy future for my parents in which they never had a baby of their own.

But when I tried to picture myself in that future, I couldn't. Logically, I knew I could still go to college. Study photography. Take pictures. Maybe even start up a portrait business myself. But it felt cold and empty, like I'd always wish that I'd done those things with Rodney, not because I couldn't do it without him, but because I wanted to be the girl who didn't screw that future up. The girl he could trust. The one who didn't hurt him. The one he thought I was before all of this happened.

My eyes found their tears again, and my face contorted. I slipped deeper into my hood, hoping Mom wouldn't notice, but she put a hand on my arm. "Penny?" she said. She didn't ask if I was okay. I obviously wasn't. "Talk to me?"

I wanted to hold it all in. Mom was standing on the edge of happy. It wasn't right for me to ruin it.

But I'd
just
agreed that things would be different. And if not talking to my mother was what dug me into the dark, maybe the opposite would pull me out.

I sniffled, and snot collected in my nose. "I've screwed everything up."

Mom held her breath. "Have you talked to Rodney?"

I bit my lip, hard. "What makes you think it's about him?"

Mom scooted her chair closer, resting her arm around my shoulders. "After the way he was with you at the hospital, I'm honestly surprised that he hasn't come pounding on the door."

My nose started to run. "I was thinking about calling him."

"You don't sound happy about it."

"No," I said. "I'm going to tell him that we shouldn't talk to each other any more."

Mom's eyebrows shot up. "That sounds . . . drastic."

"Is it?" I asked. "After everything I put him through? He'd be better off with somebody else."

Mom shook her head. "Penny—"

"You always said it was stupid to get involved young, right? And you were right. All I do is hurt him. That's all I've ever done."

Mom grimaced, probably remembering all the times she had said just that. "I don't think—"

My voice angled up into a wail. "He said I didn't care about his feelings. And he was right. I was selfish. But now that I do care, it's obvious this is what's best for him."

Mom was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was sincere. "Does Rodney get a say in what's best for him?"

Both my eyes and my nose ran. If I didn't give him a choice, I was doing what I always did: trying to solve the problem by doing what
I
thought was best. But in this one case, couldn't I be right? "Isn't it obvious?"

Mom got up and knelt on the ground beside me, rubbing my back. "Penny," she said. "That boy wants to be around you. He insisted on staying with you when any other guy would have run away."

"Yeah," I said. "Because he's too loyal. I've done nothing but ruin his life for
years
. It's about time I did him a favor."

Mom planted her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. "You're not ruining Rodney's life. He's in love with you. Anyone can see that."

I scrunched my eyes closed. Of course he was. "That only makes me the person who can hurt him the worst."

Mom nodded. "Like I've hurt you."

I cringed, still honestly surprised that Mom wasn't dissolving in tears along with me. How could she deal with having hurt me without collapsing?

She wasn't trying to fix me, I realized. She was only being honest, and trying to move on.

Why was I still trying to fix things for Rodney?

I sat back in my chair. I was trying to control his pain the same way I'd tried to control Mom's. All I'd done was switch him for her.

I could feel my resolve cracking. But it felt like standing on the surface of a frozen lake. Maybe my resolve was the only thing between me and drowning. "Being with him can't be the right thing, because of how much I've hurt him."

"Penny," Mom said, "what do you want?"

I remembered Rodney's words, from months ago on the bleachers, when I'd asked him the same question.

I want to be with my best friend forever,
he'd said.
Take millions of pictures. Be stupidly happy.

And the words cut me deep, because they were exactly what I wanted, too. I just hadn't believed it was possible.

And now?

I looked over at my mother, whose face was calm, despite the horror of the last few days. She'd survived it, even though I'd forced her into yet another loss. I'd survived the last few years, even though my family was a mess. Mom could smile now, even though we both knew how much we'd hurt each other.

"How do people do this?" I asked. "Wound each other and then just go on as if it never happened?"

Mom was quiet for a long moment. "I think that people forgive each other, because we're all stupid sometimes. I think that we let go of the pain, because we also want to be forgiven ourselves."

I closed my eyes. That's why Mom wasn't yelling at me, now. I'd done stupid things, but now that she knew the whole truth, she could see that she also had a part in it. She'd hurt me, and I'd hurt her, and if we wanted things to be different, we couldn't keep making the same stupid mistakes. We had to live differently.

I hadn't given Mom a say when I decided to give her a baby. I'd kept it secret, because I wanted to decide for her what she would do. I'd done the same to Rodney, and if I broke up with him now, I'd be doing it again—making choices for him, without giving him a say. That was the same old Penny, the same old habits, the same old problems.

I didn't want that anymore. I wanted things to be different. And that meant I had to give Rodney a choice, and really listen to what he wanted.

Hurting each other was what people did. But maybe we made up for it by loving each other, too. Even if sometimes loving meant letting go.

I wasn't going to have that conversation with him over the phone. "Can I borrow the car?"

Mom smiled. "My keys are on the counter," she said. "I'm supposed to tell you not to stay out late while you're recovering."

I nodded. My body was sore, but not broken. Healing was possible. I needed to give it a chance for once, instead of getting in its way.

Rodney's room was upstairs at the front of his house. I could see his light on as I parked Mom's car out front. The only other light in the house came from Rodney's parents' bedroom. I could ring the doorbell, but one of them would answer the door, and if they chewed me out for what I'd done to their son, I'd lose my nerve.

Instead, I slipped through their side gate and into their backyard. I sat down on a bistro bench at the roots of their huge shade tree, and pulled out my phone.

I'm in your backyard
, I texted.
Does that make me a stalker?

Depends
, he replied.
Can you tell me what I'm doing right now?

I smiled.
Texting
.

Busted. You ARE a stalker.

Among my many talents. I also predict the future.

Oh? And what do you see in mine?

Hmm,
I typed.
A bench, a garden, and a girl.

"I see that in my present," Rodney said from the corner of the yard. I'd left the gate open, and he'd come through so quietly that I hadn't heard.

I turned around to smile at him. "Maybe," I said. "But I saw it first."

Rodney sat down next to me on the bench. He was wearing jeans and a thick hooded sweatshirt. Given the time it had taken him to come down the stairs, he must have still been up and dressed.

"So," Rodney said.

"So," I said back.

He smiled. "I'm glad you're here."

My heart picked up pace. We sat there, side by side, not touching. My head swam with the enormity of all I wanted to say. I didn't know how I'd ever get it out.

Rodney looked at me. "How are you feeling?"

Did he mean physically? Or otherwise? "Crappy," I said. "But I'm surviving."

He nodded slowly. "I think that's going around."

"How are things with your parents?" I asked. "Athena said they were pissed."

"Yeah," Rodney said, drawing the word out. "They yelled. A lot."

I shuddered. "They probably hate me."

"I think they're more mad at me," Rodney said. "I may have told my dad that he only wants me to take responsibility if there's no actual responsibility involved."

Ouch
. "That's the truth, isn't it?"

Rodney nodded. "It's also true that I think he's an ass."

I put a hand on his arm. "You didn't say that."

Rodney didn't pull away. "I didn't. But I thought it. A lot."

I sighed. "I haven't exactly been the kind of person they'd want you dating, you know?"

Rodney gave me a sidelong look.

I cringed. "Not that we're dating anymore." I sounded like I was fishing, and maybe I was, but mostly I was drowning. Rodney just sat quietly, refusing to rescue me.

"I almost called you, earlier," I said. "I was going to tell you that obviously you'd be better off without me."

Rodney exhaled loudly. "What changed your mind?"

"My mom, actually," I said. "She told me I was being stupid."

"Thank her for me."

"So you don't want me out of your life?" I asked. "Because you probably should."

He cocked his head. "I tried that. It was awful."

"Yeah, but—" I put my head in my hands, steeling myself for what I had to say. "I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to drag you through hell." I kept my face down. I couldn't look at him and say this to him. "I just think it might be better for you if we were just friends, like you said."

Rodney's hand rested on my shoulder. "Yeah, but that's crap, isn't it? We were never really just friends."

I groaned. "No. We never were. So maybe that means we shouldn't be anything. If I turn out like my mother—"

Rodney's fingertips rested in the groove of my collar bone. "You're not your mother."

He sounded so sure that I wanted to believe him. I looked up. "How do you know? Because if I lost this baby, I might lose them all, you know? I might turn out to be just like—"

"Whoa," Rodney said. "Are you planning our whole lives already?"

My heart hammered so hard it about broke my ribs. Our lives? His and mine? Together?

"I think," I said. "I think I was trying to tell you that being with me won't be good for you."

Rodney leaned against the back of the bench and let out a long, slow breath. I waited for him to admit I was right. I was, wasn't I? He still loved me, sure, but loving someone and thinking they're good for you are two different things.

"So can I kiss you yet?" he said.

My mouth dropped open. "What?"

His arm shifted around me, warm against my shoulders.

"Um," I said. "Did you hear anything I said?"

"Yeah," Rodney said. "I heard my best friend spouting self-loathing crap about what a terrible person she is. You don't expect me to actually buy into that, do you?"

I smacked him on the shoulder. Hard.

He didn't even wince.

What was
wrong
with him? "Could you consider just for a minute that this is probably not the last time in your life that I'm going to hurt you? That I might make you really miserable? That our lives might be full of pain?"

"Okay," Rodney said.

I kicked my feet at some leaves, waiting, but Rodney was quiet. "Okay, you'll consider it?"

He sighed, and ran his thumb under my jaw, turning me to face him. "Okay," he said. "Sign me up."

A gleam of moonlight ran through his eyes. "Don't be stupid," I said.

The ghost of a smile played across his lips. "Take your own damn advice."

I wanted to ask him why he would do that, but his hand brushed against my cheek, and my breath caught in my throat.

He'd do that because pain wasn't the only thing in my future. It swallowed my mother for a long time, but even she was finding a way past it. She'd held onto her pain, onto her one precious vision of the future, and lived inside it like a moth refusing to emerge from its cocoon.

But now, she was starting to cut her way out.

Maybe I didn't have to build a sack around myself at all. Maybe I could make a different choice than she made. Maybe I could be like Rodney—accept the pain, embrace it as part of what was necessary.

Part of what I wanted, even.

And move on to everything else that would also happen in our future. Take millions of pictures. Be stupidly happy.

Forever.

"Okay," I said.

Rodney's mouth broke out in a full smile. And then I threw myself at him, literally. I buried my face in his shoulder and tossed my arms around his neck, pressing against him so tight that I could barely breathe. He wrapped his arms around my back, the sleeves of his sweatshirt enveloping me like a blanket. I ran my hands up the back of his neck and through his hair, my fingers tingling at the mere thought that they were
allowed
to be there. How? How did I take this for granted for so long?