One Moment (8 page)

His room felt like a bubble. A safe place that, when I closed my eyes, gave me the illusion that Joey was still alive. The air practically sizzled with his energy, so intense I could have believed he was standing next to me. I wasn’t supposed to touch anything. I’d promised I wouldn’t when I made my escape, using the excuse that I wanted to grab a few of his CDs for the mix we were going to make. But I had to.

I leaned down and pressed my face into his pillow, breathing him in. Imagined him lying there, perfectly alive. Then I crossed the room and opened his closet door as quietly as I could, running my fingers along the soft fabric of his clothes. I wished I could tuck myself into the thick shadows of the small space. To stay there for the rest of my life.

But nothing that I wanted could happen anymore.

So I reached for the inside handle of the closet door and started to swing it shut. But my fingers brushed against something wrapped around the neck of the silver knob, stopping me.

I looked down. Smiled.

There, twisted and pulled tight, was a rainbow-colored necklace, a pattern of tiny beaded flowers. Pete had won it for me at the Spring Carnival, just five weeks ago. Joey couldn’t come because his father had scored some killer tickets for a Reds game in Cincinnati. Joey had been excited for the game, but he’d been pissed we were all doing something without him. He’d always hated missing out.

After the carnival, Tanna drove me home, both of us singing to loud music as the wind rushed at us through the open windows of her car. I’d been wishing Joey would call me; I wanted to hear the velvety tone of his voice before I slipped under my covers and fell asleep. But he’d been so late, I didn’t talk to him until the next day. When he stopped by my house, we went up to my room, and I’d flung the necklace in the air, teasing him that another guy had given me jewelry. He’d better be careful or someone might just steal me away. And then I shoved the bright flowers into the right-hand side of my dresser drawer, along with a messy collection of barrettes and bottles of nail polish, with Joey leaning into me, tugging at the waist of my shirt and whispering that he was the only one for me. I’d had no idea he’d taken the silly necklace, but somehow seeing it wrapped around the handle of his closet door, knowing he’d thought of me every time he’d seen it, made me happy.

I grabbed a stack of CDs from his dresser before making my way out into the darkened hallway. As I stepped to the top of the staircase, I was thinking that I would give anything for one more night with Joey, so I could tell him and show him and make him feel exactly how much he meant to me.

I was three or four steps down before I heard them. Hushed whispers, hurried and insistent. The first voice was Shannon’s. The second, Adam’s. The sharpness that punctuated the tone of the conversation stopped me. My hand gripped the railing and held tight.

“Adam, that’s not fair. You have to think about—”

“It’s
all
I’m thinking about, Shannon.”

“Then you should understand that we can’t—”

“No. You need to understand. I’m not going to do this. I won’t.”

“Is this about that phone call? The night of Dutton’s party?”

“That’s none of your business, Shannon.”

“The hell it isn’t. I know you were fighting. You have to tell me what—”

“The only thing I have to do right now is leave.” Adam sounded so angry, nothing like himself. And that scared me. “I can’t handle this. Not for one more second.”

There were footsteps then. And the click of the front door.

I rushed down, my palm sliding across the railing, just in time to see Adam step through the open doorway. Shannon’s back was to me, her body tense.

“She’s right, Adam,” I whispered.

Adam stopped. Stood there for a moment. And then turned to face me, tears welling in his red-rimmed eyes.

Shannon turned, too, her tears spilling over, running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.

“Right about what?” Adam asked, his tone softening a bit.

“You can’t just leave. We have to do this together.”

Adam bit his lower lip and looked around the entry. “It’s just too much,” he said, tipping his head toward those black Converse shoes. “Being here. Doing this.”

“This isn’t about us,” I said. “It’s about Joey. And his family. It sucks and hurts and we hate it, but we’re doing this because we love him.” I wondered how I could feel so comfortable telling Adam that I loved Joey when I’d never had the guts to tell Joey himself. I felt like screaming, knowing I’d lost the chance, that I’d never have it again.

Adam shook his head.

“Shan said you and Joey were fighting?” I was dying to ask a thousand questions at once but forced myself to let them go until Adam and I were alone and he might actually tell me something. “Is that why you’re so—”

“Nothing was going on.” Adam looked at Shannon. Then me. “It was stupid.”

Shannon reached out toward Adam, but he pulled away.

“He was a brother to you,” Shannon said. “He wasn’t perfect. He was more than a little crazy sometimes, but that’s why we loved him. Right?”

Adam pressed his hands to his face. Sighed. “Right. It’s just that … He
died
. And I’m so freaking pissed off, I swear I’d punch him in the face if he were standing right here.”

“That’s normal, right? I mean, I feel that way, too, sometimes,” I said, trying to smile. “And then the next second, I’m a slobbering mess, just wanting to give him one more hug.”

“We’ve all turned schizophrenic,” Shannon said with a snort. “Joey would be proud he’s had that effect on us.”

Adam shook his head. “The sick thing is that you’re right.”

“So, you’re staying?” I asked.

Adam closed the door, shutting out the dark night. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Thank you,” Shannon said.

Adam looked at her, something unfamiliar crossing over his face, sending a ripple of fear through my chest. I tried to push the thought away, but it kept coming back. Adam seemed different somehow. A shade darker. And I was suddenly afraid that Joey, and all those memories, weren’t the only things I’d lost at the cliff top.

6

A Punched-up Shade of Blue

It had hit me the night before, after coming home from Joey’s house. The memory crashed into me as I was falling asleep, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. The image of Joey lying on the ground. Unmoving.

It’s like my brain had taken a snapshot of the moment and seared the single frame to the insides of my eyelids so that every few seconds it would wash over me again. Pull me under. Drown me. Joey on the bank—just lying there—his legs bent awkwardly, head tipped back, mouth gaping open.

I squeezed my eyes tight and pressed my fingertips into the lids, turning the flash into a million pinpricks of light—erasing his death.

The vision made me feel this desperate need to hide in the vacuum of my closet. But I wasn’t alone. And I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d started to spend so much time backed into a corner, huddled beneath my clothes. So I stayed where I was, burrowed between Tanna and Shannon.

Earlier, when we’d finished the last of Joey’s posters and CDs, after Pete left us sitting on my front lawn with the setting sun turning the sky a bruised shade of purplish blue, Tanna had insisted on spending the night, saying we should use pillows and blankets to make a bed on the floor of my room, like we used to do when we were kids. With only one day until the funeral, Shannon had agreed, saying that none of us should be alone.

I didn’t tell her that, for me,
alone
was the only thing that felt right anymore.

Lying on the floor, digging my toes into the carpet to give myself the reassurance that something beneath me was solid, I lied to myself. Told myself Joey had just been sleeping. Because that was easier. An escape. Lying took me to the times that were protected, indestructible.

Like the semester of freshman health class, when Joey and I would shuffle to the back of the classroom, duck behind Chris Grater’s wiry Afro, and whisper back and forth until the interminable video of the day began. Then we’d nestle down in our seats, prop our heads on bunched-up fleece jackets, and close our eyes. I always opened mine again, watching Joey for a few minutes as the drone of the documentary voice-over began, counting the freckles dotting the slope of his nose, or thinking about braiding his chocolate-brown hair, imagining the feel of the silky strands sliding against the length of my fingers until the information about STDs or news of the latest supervirus trickled into my brain and I was swept away by the sleep that had overtaken Joey.

Just sleeping,
I told myself, pressing my shoulders, my back, my butt against the bedroom floor—against solid ground. Pressing my mind forward, tripping away from that horrible vision, and onto the next. Adam’s face, his eyes, stricken with panic. But that only made me feel more alone. More unsteady and in need of balance. Why was everything making me feel like I was suspended in eternal free fall?

“You guys checked your phones again, right?” I asked the darkness, the steady sound of sleepy breathing coming from both of my friends. “When we turned off the light?”

“Yeah.” Tanna flipped to her side, facing me. I could smell the soapy scent of the Noxzema she’d slathered on her face earlier. “I did.”

“Me, too.” Shannon tossed an arm up and over her head.

“Nothing?” I asked.

“Nada,” Shannon said. “It’s official. Adam’s ignoring us.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why wouldn’t he show tonight? How could he miss helping with the posters and CDs for the funeral?”

“The important thing is that we know he’s okay. I talked to his mom earlier today, remember?” Tanna reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. “We’re all having trouble with this, and we won’t all deal with it in the same way.”

“Yeah, but he’s, like, completely shut us out,” I said. “How many times did you text him?”

“Not as many as you,” Shannon said with a yawn.

“I sent him
three
nine-one-one messages. And left him, like, a thousand voice mails.” I flipped to my stomach, grabbing my phone and pressing the button to take it out of sleep mode.

“Maybe he just needs a little time,” Tanna said. “To process—”

“Nothing,” I said, scrolling through my texts. “Still nothing.” Somehow, Adam’s absence was making me feel twice as empty. Which didn’t make any sense. I knew he was alive. He was out there, somewhere. And that should have made me feel relieved. But instead, his sudden disappearance left me twice as shaky, twice as unsure about the world that was suddenly closing in around me.

“Where do you guys think he is?” Shannon asked, her voice trailing into the darkness, tripping across Tanna and me.

“Hell if I know,” I said, tossing my phone on the floor near my pillow, close enough for me to grab in a flash if Adam finally decided to respond. “All we know for sure is what Pete said after he left here and drove past Adam’s house—that his car wasn’t in the driveway. Trust me, if I knew where to go, I’d leave right now and ream him for ignoring us.”

“I meant
Joey
,” Shannon said, her soft words tumbling after mine. There was a pause then, a silence that seeped into our bones as the truth of Joey’s death washed over us again. “I keep thinking he’s on the moon. I’ve been picturing him up there in that purplish-white glow. I see him watching us. Listening in.”

My chest tightened with the thought of him being so very far away. I bit at my lip, trying to keep all sound trapped inside.

“I see him in a field,” Tanna said. “The grass practically glows, it’s so green, and the sky above him is this punched-up shade of blue. He’s running, his arms pumping with his steps. And he looks strong. Healthy. But most important, he’s smiling.”

I was jealous and ashamed, and I didn’t want to tell them that my vision of Joey was so unlike theirs. That what I mostly saw was him lying on the ground at the Jumping Hole. Dead. Where he was now, that was something I hadn’t yet dared to face. And I didn’t want to. So I said the first thing that came to my mind, needing to escape before I became locked in the grip of yet something else that would drown me.

“I just want to rewind everything,” I said. “To take it all back.”

“Take what back?” Tanna’s voice was stronger, more awake.

“
Everything!
Planning the day at the gorge, driving with you guys instead of Joey, taking that stupid dare. What if one small thing changed? Would we all be hanging out right now, listening to music while Joey laughed at something stupid someone said, instead of making posters and planning the music for his—”

“Maggie,” Tanna said, “you can’t do that.”

“But I can’t stop myself.” I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. “What if it’s as simple as one moment? One tiny thing, like that kiss on the rocks? What if I’d kissed him a little longer? Would he be alive right now? Or what if I’d stayed with him Friday night, what if I’d been with him … wherever he was?”

“You’ve got to let that go,” Shannon said. “It’s going to drive you crazy. And none of us know, so—”

“Besides,” Tanna’s hand fluttered against my back, her fingers pressing into the cotton of my shirt, “it doesn’t work like that.”

“And then I think all kinds of stupid shit, right? Like, what if I’d just had sex with him at prom? Could something as far back as a few weeks ago have made a difference?”

“No way, Mags.” Tanna’s voice was a whisper. Like she wasn’t sure if she was right or not.

“But if we’d done it that night, like he’d wanted to, instead of me holding out for the week his parents were going out of town … If I hadn’t been so against becoming a total cliché, he wouldn’t have died a virgin.”

“Oh, God, Maggie, you think …” Shannon’s voice fell, dropped away with her thought. Then it came back, even stronger. “You can’t blame yourself for anything like that.”

“Who else is to blame?” My question strung out in the air between us like a thread, ready to break.

Tanna and Shannon were silent in the darkness.