Tilt (74 page)

he was done. And still I couldn’t

move. Not even when he rolled

off me, skittered across the floor

and out the door. Leaving me there

like discarded trash. Something

used up and left behind to rot.

Your first time should be special.

Not something you can’t quite

scrub away, no matter how hard

you try. Something that sticks to you

like tree sap. Stubborn. Indelible.

Marring your finish until you rust.

I’m Not Even Sure

How I got home. Who drove,

or when I got in. Stumbled in

at my dad’s, made my way

to the couch and crashed there.

Good thing it was Dad’s. Mom

would have been up waiting,

knowing exactly what my messed-

up clothes and hair and alcohol

breath meant. I was so buzzed

I didn’t even wash until morning.

Waking up was the hardest thing

ever, sunlight assaulting my eyes

and something hammering on

my skull and a pool of acid swishing

around in my stomach. I barely

made the bathroom in time, though

it was mostly dry heaves.

Heaving what remained of me.

The Best Part of All?

He dumped me the same day.

Not only that, but he dumped me

secondhand, through Chloe.

I was waiting for Mom to pick me

up, still fighting the pounding

in my head, when she texted me.

THIS IS REALLY MESSED UP

SO I’M SORRY, ’K? LUCAS SAYS

TO TELL YOU HE DOESN’T THINK

YOU TWO ARE SIMPATICO. STUPID

WAY OF SAYING HE WANTS TO

BREAK UP WITH YOU. SORRY.

Two apologies, and both from

her. Just about then, Chad wandered

in and sat next to me on the sofa.

Heard you come in pretty late

last night and I noticed you slept

on the couch. Everything okay?

“Wonderful. Amazing. Really

great.” Then I showed him Chloe’s

text. But I didn’t tell him the rest.

I Mean, Who Could I Tell

Something like that to?

Dad?

Ha ha ha ha.

Cassie?

Too busy being positive about the wedding.

Chloe?

Already has a good idea, but I’m not about

to give her any details. Don’t really trust her.

Bri?

It’s just way too embarrassing. Maybe

one day, if I get drunk enough. Except

lately I’ve been thinking that getting

drunk—especially blackout drunk—stinks.

Which kind of leaves Mom.

Who is currently crazy about her doctor

boyfriend. Who happens to be what a boyfriend

should be. Handsome. Rich. Upwardly mobile.

And, most of all, respectful. Of her. And of me.

I wish I could tell her. But I don’t know

how. Where would I even begin?

So I’ve Kept It All In

And it’s eating me up.

One good thing. I started

my period today. I’ll be bloated

for the wedding. But I won’t be pregnant.

Speaking of that, seems

Aunt Marissa and Uncle Chris

might adopt Mikayla’s baby. I hope

that works out. They’re talking about it

now, I guess. Our families

connect in weird ways. Triangles,

kind of. I think it’s awesome, but Mom

is worried that Aunt Marissa might be acting

impulsively. Mom’s a fretter.

I really don’t want to be the cause

of her anxiety. So I’m just sitting here

next to her, watching TV, acting like nothing’s

bothering me. She’s doing

the same thing. But I know she’s

waiting to hear the latest from Aunt

Marissa. The phone is right next to her.

It’s So Close, in Fact

That when it rings, she jumps.

Guess she was caught up in the movie

after all. But if I thought she was worried

before, whatever she’s hearing is making

her pace. Did Mikayla decide to keep

the baby after all?
Thanks for letting

me know. We’ll be right there.
She keeps

her voice calm, but it trembles, and so do

her hands.
Get your coat. And hurry.

Okay, this is bad. But we’re both

bundled up and getting into the car

before I ask, “What’s wrong, Mom?”

She puts the car into reverse, backs

carefully onto the icy street.
It’s Shane.

Oh, Jesus, how could he. . . ?

“How could he what?” Now I’m

getting scared. And just as it seems

like we need to drive light speed,

it starts to snow. Blizzard. The first

major storm of the year, and it’s an early

arrival. “Where are we going, Mom?”

Saint Mary’s. Shane. . .  well, they’re

not sure if it was intentional, but he

may have attempted suicide.

He’s in critical condition.
She swerves

to avoid a coyote, and the Subaru fights

to stay on the highway.
Damn animals!

“Take it easy, Mom. Slow down.

Getting into an accident won’t help.”

She regains control, lightens her foot

on the accelerator.
I know. Sorry. I

just want to be there for Missy. How

could he be so selfish?
Good question,

if he did try to kill himself. He wouldn’t,

though, right? I just saw him at Thanksgiving.

I would have known something was wrong.

Right?

Snow Swirls

In the headlights are hypnotic.

It’s like I can’t look away, and

as I stare, questions materialize,

ghosts, dancing against the windshield.

Why did he do it, if he did?

Why didn’t anyone see it coming?

Why would he hurt his parents even

more than they were already hurting?

What, exactly, happened to make

him choose today? Was it because

of his mom wanting another baby?

Why wouldn’t he want her to have one?

Those are the easy ones. The next

ones are darker. Macabre, even.

How did he do it? Why didn’t it

work? Will it work in the end?

Who found him? How did he look?

Was he fighting for life? Or so close

to death that he looked like a corpse

already? And am I sick to wonder?

The Waiting Room

Is crowded with family. Gramps

meets us at the door, worry creasing

his eyes.
Missy’s in shock,