Sometimes It Happens (20 page)

“Hannah?” she whispers, cracking the door. “Are you awake?”

I force myself to breathe deeply and consider adding in a snore, but decide that would definitely be taking it too far, especially since I’m really bad at fake-snoring. I tried to do it at a sleepover once so I wouldn’t have to play truth or dare (I had a crush on this kid named Jacob Heinz and
I didn’t want anyone asking me about it), and everyone totally knew I was really awake.

My mom walks into the room, the floorboards squeaking under her sneakers. God. Does she have no respect for my privacy? She can’t just come barging into my room without even, like, asking me. Good thing I put my journal away. I mean, really.

“Hannah?” she tries again, and when I don’t answer, she picks up the sheet that’s on the floor and drapes it over me, then gives me a kiss on the forehead. Okay, so that’s kind of sweet, actually.

I sigh and then open one eye. Just because I’m having a bad night doesn’t mean I have to be a total shit to her.

“Oh, hi,” I say, blinking up at her, trying to look confused and like I just woke up. “I guess I fell asleep after work.”

“Hannah, your screen saver’s not even up,” she says. I glance over to my laptop, which is open to my Facebook page. I was reading through the old messages from Sebastian and using them for inspiration as I wrote in my journal. I know, pathetic.

“Oh,” I say. “Well, I fall asleep really fast these days, it’s all my long days at work.” I give a yawn for good measure.

“Uh-huh.” She totally doesn’t believe me, which actually makes it even nicer that she pretended to think I was sleeping. God, I’m a horrible daughter. “So now that you’re awake, do you want to go to the diner with me?”

“Cooley’s is closed,” I say automatically.

“Cooley’s isn’t the only diner in town,” she says. “There’s IHop, Pepper Pot, Two Trees . . .”

The last place I want to be is a diner after spending all day at one. And I know my mom is going to ask me how I’m doing with the whole Sebastian thing, and it’s so not the time to be asking me that.

“I don’t really want to be at a diner right now, Mom,” I say, turning over so that I’m facing the wall. “I’ve been at one all day.”

“Okay,” she says. “Then do you want to come downstairs and join me for some French toast?”

“With banana sauce?” I ask hopefully.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” I say, turning back over and kicking off the sheet. “But I am
not
talking about Sebastian.” And I hope she knows I mean it.

“It’s just, I mean, I don’t know if I ever even liked him that much,” I say, forking up the last piece of French toast, and then dragging it through the brown sugar-banana almond sauce. Yum.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” my mom says. She’s been listening to me go on and on for the past half hour. It was like, as soon as we sat down, I just cracked and started talking about everything.

“I
didn’t
want to,” I say. “Well, I thought I didn’t. But it’s making me feel better. That and the French toast.”

“Look,” she says. “For whatever reasons you did or didn’t like Sebastian, or how much you did or didn’t like him, it doesn’t make the loss any easier.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No,” she says. She shifts in her chair, then reaches over and takes the tea bag out of her tea. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Yes,” I say, even though I know she’s probably going to say something totally smart and I’ll be annoyed for not thinking of it myself. But I’ve gone on and on for half an hour, I should at least give her a chance to speak.

“I think you liked him because it was easy.”

I stare at her incredulously. Has she totally forgotten what my relationship with Sebastian was like? Tension and anxiety were, like, the basis of our relationship. And my mom was there to witness the whole thing. “It was not easy!” I say. “He was never returning my phone calls, he never returned my texts, I never knew if he even liked me.”

“Exactly,” my mom says. She stands up from her chair and starts clearing the table, bringing our dishes to the sink. I consider stopping her and asking for another piece of French toast, but I’m sure that late-night carb sessions aren’t the best for my waistline. Especially since I’ve eaten ice cream almost every day this week. “And that’s why it was easy. You never had to worry about actually falling for him, because all your energy was put into worrying about if he was going to text you or call you or show up when he was supposed to.”

I stare at her, my mouth dropping open. “That’s true,” I say. “All my energy did go into that stuff. But then why do I feel so horrible?”

“Because it still got taken away from you,” she says. “You liked the thrill of the chase. The drama was exciting. And now that’s gone.” She returns to the table and fills my glass back up with milk. “And I’m sure that’s not
all
it is. You did like Sebastian, you guys had a lot of fun times together.”

“True,” I say, although our fun times aren’t really in proportion to how I’m feeling. Some parties and some dates and some makeout sessions don’t a basket case make. I don’t know. It’s all so confusing. I think about telling her how I’ve been feeling about Noah, but I really can’t make myself go there. It’s too . . . I don’t know, raw and emotional. And definitely not something that can be solved in half an hour over banana French toast. But I’m suddenly kind of nervous. I mean, if I only liked Sebastian because it was easy, and liking Noah is going to be anything
but
easy, what does that really mean?

Later, when I’m back in bed upstairs, my stomach full of French toast, I reach over and grab my cell.

“Hey,” I say when Ava answers. “Were you sleeping?” I can hear a bunch of commotion, and for a second I think maybe she lost service or something (Seriously, the reception in Maine is horrible—I know it’s the middle of nowhere, but you’d think the cell companies could do
something
about
it. I mean, even astronauts have cell reception.), but then I can hear her telling someone in the background that she’ll be right back.

“Hannah?” she asks. I can hear the other voices fading into the background. “What’s going on, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “I just really miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she says. I know she does miss me, but it’s hard to feel like it when it’s one in the morning and she’s obviously out doing something fun, probably with Lulu and all her amazing new camp friends, and I’m at home in my bed, needing to go to work in a few hours, and missing her so much it hurts. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’ve just been thinking about Sebastian,” I say. And Noah.

“Sebastian?” she asks. “That asshole? Why are you worried about him?” Since Sebastian never called me like he said he would, Ava’s back to calling him an asshole and saying I can do better.

“I’m not
worried
about him,” I say. “I just . . . Why do you think I’m not over it yet? I mean, I really thought I was and now . . . Do you think I was addicted to the drama?” It sounds lame when I’m saying it, and now I’m not sure it’s true. I feel like my heart has betrayed me or something, making me think I was fine and then hitting me with this out of nowhere.

“It’s only been a little over a month, sweetie,” Ava says. “And no, I don’t think you were just addicted to the drama.
You liked him. Although you liked the drama, too.”

I smile. “I know, but I don’t even want him back,” I say. It’s true, I don’t want him back.
You know this has nothing to do with Sebastian,
a voice in my head says.
You know you’re really upset about Noah.

There’s noise on the other end of the phone, and then I hear a guy’s voice say, “Ava, are you coming back? We need to get the fire started!” There’s a bunch of laughter, and I can tell Ava’s covering the phone because she says something back but it sounds all muffled.

“Listen,” she says, when she’s back on the line. “Why don’t you come and visit me?”

“Seriously?” I sit up in bed, suddenly excited. “Okay! When?” Ohmigod! Yay! It will be so fun! Hanging out in Maine, getting close to nature. Maybe we can go for a hike or do yoga or commune with the trees or something. Lulu can teach me how to meditate, and maybe we can even work on our flexibility and do some Pilates. I’ll come back refreshed, invigorated, and totally clearheaded, like people who come back from those spiritual retreats to India. Like that one woman in
Eat, Pray, Love
.

“Not this weekend but next?” she asks. “Does that work?”

“Totally!” I say. “I’ll ask for the time off of work. I just have to figure out a way to get to Maine.” I wonder if I can rent a car. Probably not. I think you have to be, like, twenty-one or something. But there has to be a bus or a
train. I grab my laptop, getting ready to Google.

“You can ride up with Noah,” Ava says. At the sound of his name, my heart twists, and my hands stop, poised over the keyboard.

“Noah?”

“Yeah, that’s the weekend he’s coming. It was supposed to be romantic, but honestly how romantic can you get being out in the woods?” She laughs. “So you can come too. It’ll be great, you guys being here at the same time. We’ll have so much fun.”

“Oh,” I say. I lean back on my bed, and trace around the lining of my comforter with one finger. Is Ava crazy? Why would she invite me along on some kind of romantic getaway with her boyfriend? And okay, it’s not a
getaway
exactly since, you know, she’s already away. But she definitely said romantic. I wonder if this has anything to do with the problems Noah was talking about a couple of weeks ago.

“Um,” I say, “I don’t want to be the third wheel.” Not to mention how weird is it going to be riding up to Maine with Noah? Three hours in a car with him? When we’re not even really talking, besides “hi,” “how are you,” and “those people want their home fries really crispy.”

“You won’t!” Ava says. “I told you, there’s no way we’re going to get to do anything romantic, I have a cabin full of eleven-year-olds to watch. I can’t even sleep out overnight anywhere.”

I take a deep breath, wanting to ask her about her and
Noah, but I’m a little bit afraid. Finally I decide to just go for it. “Is everything okay with you guys?” I ask.

“With who?” Ava’s tone is suddenly sharp, and I wish I could take back the question. But it’s too late.

“With you and Noah?”

“Yes, things with me and Noah are great,” she says. “Why?”

“No reason,” I say, “It’s just weird that you would want me to come up and visit you on a weekend when you should be getting some.” I want to add that it’s also weird that she’s obviously out somewhere where there are guys around, specifically one guy who’s calling her name and asking her when she’s coming back to the party or the festivities or whatever it is she’s doing. In fact, I think I can hear him now, calling her Queen of the Fire and trying to get her off the phone. Being called “Queen of the Fire” definitely sounds like something inappropriate and scandalous might be going on.

There’s a pause, and then Ava starts laughing. “Trust me,” she says. “There’s nowhere to get it on, unless we want to do it in the woods and get poison ivy. So it’s all settled. I’ll tell Noah when I talk to him tomorrow. I can’t wait, it’s going to be so fun!”

“I don’t know if we’ll both be able to get the time off of work,” I say in a last-ditch effort to keep me from having to go.

“Of course you will,” she says. “Just beg.”

“Okay,” I say, deciding to play along, even though I know
there’s no way I’m going to go. It actually won’t even be that hard to get out of it since Noah probably already asked for the time off, like, weeks ago. He’s just that type. Cooley will say that I can’t have the time off too, and then I’ll have to call Ava, and she’ll be sad, of course, but I’ll have already warned her so it won’t be, like, that big of a surprise or anything. Then she and Noah can have a nice, romantic time together.
And you can stay here by yourself,
the voice in my head whispers.

“Ava,” I start, deciding to tell her how much I miss her, how weird everything’s been, how I need her, how I don’t know if I can get through the rest of the summer without her.

“I have to go,” she says. I can hear the same guy in the background calling her name again. “I’m at this party and my friends are waiting for me.”

Her friends are waiting for her. Friends I don’t know. Friends who are partying with her, friends who are maybe cute guys, friends who know nothing about me, friends who are girls that might want Ava to be their best friend. Friends who are going through things with her that I’ll never be a part of. And I’m here, going through things that Ava will never be a part of.

“Okay,” I say.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says. “And we’ll figure out the details for the trip.”

She hangs up, and I lie back on the pillow. I stare up at the ceiling and it’s two more hours before I fall asleep.