Текст книги "Love Letters to the Dead"

Автор книги: Ava Dellaira

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

“Are you hungry?”

I wanted to say that I wasn’t and disappear into my room, but the sandwich waiting like that made me sad and made me love her all at the same time. So I dropped my backpack by the door and sat down.

“Thanks,” I said.

I waited for her to make us pray, but instead she said, “Laurel, you were so upset last night. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m doing better today,” I said carefully. It wasn’t a lie.

“I know that you miss May,” she said, “and I know that you looked up to her. But I can see you becoming your own person, Laurel. And I am proud of you. The Lord Jesus is, too.” She squeezed my hand and looked at me. Then she said, “And so is May, from where she is in heaven.”

Although I still didn’t know what exactly Aunt Amy was proud of, and I didn’t really think that Jesus would be, it was a really nice thing for her to say about May.

I wonder what it was like, Amelia, in the final moments of your life. Did you stare up at the clouds that you had soared over? Did you wonder if you were going back there, to live in your beloved skies forever?

Yours,

Laurel

Dear Jim Morrison,

There is something that you said once: A friend is someone who gives you total freedom to be yourself—and especially to feel, or not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at any moment is fine with them. That’s what real love amounts to—letting a person be what he really is. Thank you for saying it, because I’ve been thinking about that. I think that I’ve been trying for a long time to feel like I am supposed to, instead of what I actually am.

Since what happened at the party, I’d been missing Natalie and Hannah painfully. The week passed, and they’d been avoiding me, and each other, and pretty much everyone.

Then when I got to school today, Monday, I saw Hannah in the parking lot, getting out of a car. The passenger door was silver, but the rest of the car was painted black. She stumbled, her pointed heel stuck in a crack, as she turned to wave bye to the driver. It was a half-fingered wave that looked like it was meant to be flirty, but she could barely muster it. And when I followed her gaze, I saw him—it was Blake with the mountain house. He peeled out of the lot, dodging the minivans and mom cars and darting into traffic.

When Hannah saw me walking toward her, she looked at me like she wanted to disappear. Her red curls were coming uncurled, and her makeup was heavier than normal. She had one of her eye shadow bruises painted on her cheek.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

“Was that Blake?”

“Yeah.”

“Why was he dropping you off at school?”

“I stayed at his place last night.”

“Hannah, you promised you wouldn’t see him.”

“I know,” she said. “But I had to get out of my house. And it’s over with Kasey, of course.”

“You could have called me.”

“I’ve never even been to your house before, Laurel.”

“Well, it could have been the first time…”

Hannah looked down. I could tell she was still angry.

Then she just laughed, suddenly, although nothing was funny. She laughed like she was making the only sound that could cover everything up. “I really can’t be here today,” she said. “Do you want to go somewhere?” The first bell hadn’t even rung.

“Okay.”

So we snuck off campus and walked to Garcia’s and ordered taquitos for breakfast, sitting on the stoop of a drive-in spot. We used my cell phone and each called the office, pretended to be the other’s parents calling us in sick. That’s not the kind of thing that you can get away with often, but we’d only ever ditched eighth period before, and we hoped we’d get lucky this time. We made sure to wait a few minutes in between so that it would be less suspicious.

When our order came, Hannah pulled a little airplane-sized bottle of vodka out of her purse and started to unscrew it. “Wanna spike your limeade?” she asked.

“No,” I said, alarmed. “It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she said, and laughed. “Like in Norway. Think it’s five o’clock in Norway? I wish I were in Norway. Or Iceland. Or somewhere really far away.” She started to try to pour the vodka into my drink and said, “Come on. Lighten up.”

“Stop it,” I said, and grabbed the bottle.

“Since when did you get all high and mighty?” she asked, annoyed.

“I just—I’m not really drinking now,” I said, “after what happened at that party.”

“You mean after you opened the door on Natalie and me and then decided to ditch us?”

“The reason that I disappeared was that I was messed up.” Then I blurted it out. “Basically Evan Friedman almost raped me. I took some pill that he gave me. He said it was a caffeine pill, but obviously it was something else.”

“Laurel. Oh my god. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you all right?”

“I guess so,” I said. “Finally I shoved him off. And then Sky came in.”

“I think I have to murder Evan,” Hannah said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before. I mean, I’m sorry I don’t talk about stuff that much.” I paused a moment. “Honestly, it’s because of something that happened with my sister.”

Hannah listened as I told her what happened with Paul and Billy and the night that May died. She hugged me when it was over and said how sorry she was. Tears were running down her face.

Then she said, “I guess I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t tell you the truth after you told me all of that.” She looked away for a moment and took the sleeve of her sweatshirt and started to wipe away the fake bruise she had drawn on her face with eye shadow. Her hand was shaking. Underneath there was a real one, yellow and fading. I reached out to touch her arm.

“Was it Jason?” I asked softly.

Hannah nodded. “He was so angry after the party.”

“Has he done that before?”

She shrugged. “Not in a while.”

“We have to do something, Hannah.”

“There’s nothing to do.”

“Have you told your grandparents?”

She shook her head no. “It would just hurt them. My grandma’s sick, and my grandpa has to take care of her. He can hardly even hear when I try to talk to him. I never wanted anyone finding out, because what if they put me in a foster home or something? Or else I’d have to go back to Arizona to my aunt, and then I’d lose Natalie for good, and you, too, and everyone. Jason’s finally going to the Marines in a few months. It’s better just to wait.”

“Natalie doesn’t know?” I asked.

“I’ve never told anyone.”

“You should tell her, Hannah.”

“She’d freak out. She’d want me to talk to someone. Besides, she hates me now anyway.”

“No she doesn’t. You know that. She’s in love with you. Her heart is broken, that’s all.”

“Do you think that I can unbreak it?”

“I think all she wants is for you to love her back, like she loves you.” I paused. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“Then tell her. Please?”

Hannah nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do you want to spend the night tonight? If you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay at my house.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Lucky for you I’m at my dad’s this week, so you won’t be subjected to any questions about whether you’ve accepted Jesus.”

Hannah agreed to throw out the vodka, and we passed the day walking around with our limeades. I still didn’t know what we’d do about Jason, but Hannah said that she wanted to forget about it for a little bit, so we went to the park and swung on the swings and jumped off into the dirt. She sang for me the whole time, a mix of Amy Winehouse and old country songs—“San Francisco Mabel Joy” and “I Fall to Pieces.” Her voice sounded beautiful, in the way that a voice does when you need it. Then we went to Walgreens and unwrapped the lipsticks in secret and tried on nearly every color, until we each picked one out and Hannah bought them for us with her Macaroni Grill money. When we went to check out, the cashier asked us why we weren’t in school. “Mental health day,” Hannah said, so confidently that the cashier just nodded in response. And then toward the end of the day, we took the city bus to my house. I’d texted Dad and asked him if I could have Hannah spend the night. I said I knew it was a school night, but she needed to stay in town. He said yes.

When we got there, I started showing Hannah around—the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, Dad’s room, and my room that is still completely dorky.

Then we passed by May’s room, with its door closed. I paused a moment, almost walking past it, but then I went back and turned the handle to open it.

“And this was my sister’s room,” I said. We walked in, and Hannah started looking around, at May’s half-burned Virgin of Guadalupe candles on the dresser, her collection of heart-shaped sunglasses, her jar full of seashells, her Sunflowers perfume. Her pictures on the bulletin board, the picture of River on the wall, the little globe lights strung around the room. “Wow. Your sister was so cool,” she said.

I smiled. “Yeah. She was.”

Then I heard the front door open. “Dad?” I called.

Hannah seemed nervous suddenly. “Do you think he’ll like me?” she whispered.

“Of course,” I answered as we walked into the living room to say hi.

“Hey, Dad,” I said. “This is Hannah.”

I’d never seen Hannah that way before. She was like a little girl, shifting from foot to foot, wiping her palms on her dress. I guess she cared a lot what he thought. It made me sad, realizing how she probably didn’t have a lot of experience with parents. She extended her hand. “Hello, sir.”

My dad smiled. “Call me Jim. I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

“You too.”

“Are you girls hungry?” Dad asked. It had been forever since we’d really done anything for dinner other than microwave food, and it was usually me who made it. But then he said, “I was thinking of making Jim’s famous tacos.”

He was showing off for Hannah, I thought, and I smiled. I guess having my friend over brightened him up. He wanted to make things good for us.

So Dad cooked tacos, and we ate them together and then made Jiffy Pop and watched a movie on the couch. Dad let us pick, and we chose Midnight in Paris, which we all loved. The whole thing was surprisingly fun.

When we went to get ready for bed, Hannah borrowed pajamas. We were lying in my bed under the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, trying to fall asleep, and then Hannah turned over and said, “I guess it’s, like, Jason’s just really pissed off at the world. Our parents are dead, and we got stuck with our grandparents, and he was supposed to get out on a football scholarship, and that got ruined. And I think that he gets scared for me, like I’ll fuck up and I’ll get stuck here. The weirdest part is that I know I should hate him, but I don’t. I mean, of course I do in certain moments. But, you know, he’s my brother. And I still love him, too. Do you think that makes me crazy?”

“No,” I said. “I think that you can feel all of that stuff about him at once.” I thought of your quote, about how with real friends you can feel however you do.

“Hold on one minute,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I wanted to do something nice for Hannah, and I had an idea. I tiptoed out of my room, pulled the attic stairs down from the ceiling, and climbed up into the dark, where May and I used to pretend that we were stowaway kids, hiding on a ship. I found the box marked Halloween and pulled it down. I opened it and found the matching pairs of wings that May and I wore, perfectly shaped and stretched over with gauzy panty hose, painted with patterns in glitter. I took May’s pair.

I brought them down to Hannah. “Here,” I said. “I thought you might need these. They’ll make you brave.”

She sat up in bed and stretched the elastic over her shoulders and smiled. “I love them.”

Yours,

Laurel

Dear Jim,

As we were getting ready for school this morning, Hannah put the wings on and announced, “I’m wearing these today.” And when we walked into the hall, she ignored everyone who stared at her.

I’d texted Natalie, and she agreed to meet us in the alley at lunch. Hannah had promised she’d talk to her. Hannah and I got there first, and when Natalie came up and leaned against the wall, the two of them just looked at each other for a long moment.

Finally Hannah broke the silence. “I do love you,” she said in a burst. “And I’m sorry. But it’s just scary. I’m not good at it. And I hate the way people talk. I don’t know if I want everyone to know, I mean, if I am ready to be together or something. But I promise that I’ll stop seeing other people.”

Natalie looked back at her. “Really?”

Hannah nodded, and then she went on quickly, as if her voice was trying to outrun the sob that wanted to break into it. “Something happened with Jason after that party. I mean, if you thought he was mad when he knew I was there with Kasey, you should have seen him after he found out about us in the bathroom. He was like, ‘That’s fine for dykes, but not my sister.’ I actually tried. I tried to stick up for us. He hit me. Anyway, he’s leaving sometime this summer.”

“What? He hit you?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah. It’s okay. I mean, I’m okay.”

“It’s not okay. I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate anyone who hurts you. I love you.” Natalie rushed over and put her arms around Hannah. Hannah eventually let herself collapse into Natalie, her shoulder shaking as the tip of the fairy wing bumped against Natalie’s cheek.

Then Hannah reached her arm out in the direction of where I was standing. “Come on, Laurel, you can, too.” It was a joke-reference to when they used to tell me I could join in if they were making out. We all laughed as I went over to hug them both.

When we stopped hugging, I looked at them and asked, “What are we going to do?”

Natalie turned to Hannah and said, “Come live at my house for a little while. Until he’s gone. Will you?”

Hannah wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Natalie nervously. “What will you tell your mom?”

“I’ll just tell her that you need somewhere to stay.”

“But what if she wants to know why? What if she wants to talk to my grandparents or something, or what if she finds out about Jason?”

“Someone has to find out, Han. He’s hurting you.”

“But what if I get sent away somewhere?”

“We won’t let that happen. No way I am losing you. My mom won’t want me to, either. She, um, she more or less knows about us now, because I more or less told her, after the party when I got super depressed. So you might have to stay in a separate room or something.” Then Natalie added, with a little smile, “But you know, there are always her date nights.”

Hannah laughed at this. Then she asked, “Are you sure it will be all right?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

So after school, we went to Natalie’s house to talk to her mom. Hannah kept wiping her palms on her dress, and her eyes were darting everywhere, but Natalie’s mom stayed calm the whole time, and eventually Hannah started to relax. Natalie’s mom said of course Hannah could stay there until Jason left for the Marines, or for as long as she needed. But she wanted to make sure that Hannah’s grandparents knew what was going on, and that Hannah understood that if necessary they could get a restraining order against Jason. She said that as long as Hannah was safe, she would respect her wishes about whether to report him, because she understood how complicated things could be. She said that the most important thing is that Hannah was taking steps to get herself out of a bad situation. And she told Hannah that she knew how hard it could be to do that, especially when you are afraid, and that she was proud of her. Natalie’s mom is a great mom.

She offered to talk to Hannah’s grandparents, but Hannah said that she thought it would be better if she was the one to do it. Of course none of us wanted to let her go alone, so Natalie and I drove with her on the highway toward the red dirt hills. We were hoping that by the time we got to her house, Jason would be on a workout. He usually goes late in the afternoon, Hannah said. But as Natalie pulled up to Hannah’s driveway and parked, Hannah didn’t want to get out.

“This is a bad idea,” she said, breathing fast.

“You can do it,” Natalie said. Then she got out of the car, and I followed, and finally Hannah did, too.

We went in, and after Hannah looked around to make sure Jason was gone, she knocked on her grandpa’s bedroom door. He opened it, looking like he was only half-awake. Hannah pointed to her cheek, but not a word came out. Her grandpa squinted at her, confused, until finally he saw it.

“Jason did it,” Hannah whispered.

“What?” he said, and turned up his hearing aid.

Hannah kept whispering, and her grandpa kept not hearing, until finally Hannah shouted, “Jason did it!”

Hannah’s grandpa shook his head at first, like he didn’t understand. “Was there an accident?”

Hannah just looked back at him, tears running down her cheeks. She said, loudly, “It’s okay. I’m going to stay at Natalie’s house for a while. Until it’s time for him to leave, okay? I don’t want you to worry.”

Her grandpa’s face turned pale, and he nodded, bewildered.

“Will you make sure to take care of Buddy and Earl? While I’m gone?”

Her grandpa promised that he would.

After Hannah said bye to him, we went to her room to help her pack. Natalie got to work, folding clothes really carefully into the suitcase. She put the shirts with the shirts and the jeans with the jeans and the soft pants with the soft pants and the lacy tops with the lacy skirts. And every time she found something fragile, like a perfume bottle, she rolled it up into something soft. Sometimes, the smallest gestures take up the most room.

When we were done, we carried Hannah’s suitcase out through the hall. That’s when Jason came in the front door. His eyes flashed from Hannah to Natalie and me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

Hannah flinched. “I’m going to stay at Natalie’s house for a while.”

“Like hell you are. I told you not to see her,” he said, glaring at Natalie.

Hannah’s hands were shaking, but her voice steeled itself. “I am. And Natalie’s mom said that if you come anywhere near it, we will get a restraining order.”

Jason’s face turned a little bit pale. “Is that so?” He tried to sound angry, but there was a tinge of fear underneath his voice. “And on what fucking grounds would you do that?”

“On the grounds that you hit me!”

“Oh, come off it. It’s called discipline. Obviously no one else around here is taking care of that with you. Someone’s got to watch out.”

“No, it’s called abuse. You’re lucky I didn’t tell the cops.”

Jason stared at her, disbelieving.

“I know you’re pissed off at the world,” Hannah said, “but you can’t just go around yelling and being a jerk. And you can’t take it out on me anymore.”

“So you’re just taking off? Just like that?”

“Until you’re gone,” Hannah said. “And if you break a restraining order,” she added, “then it’s a crime, and I bet that will mess up your chances in the Marines.”

Jason’s voice wavered. “Have it your way. I’m going to shower.”

“I won’t see you before you go, then,” Hannah said, more softly now. “Good luck.”

They didn’t hug or touch or anything else. Jason just walked out of the room.

We carried Hannah’s stuff to the car, and she said, “Wait.” Natalie and I followed as she ran to the barn, the little fairy wings still on and flapping behind her, to see Buddy and Earl the donkey. When Buddy came over to greet her, Hannah nuzzled her face against his and kissed his nose. She said, “Don’t worry, Buddy, I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Then she wiped her tears away and turned to us. “Let’s go.”

In the car on the way back, I put on your album, the first one, and as you started shouting Break on through, we rolled down the windows and screamed along, and for a moment we forgot about everything that’s hard and just let ourselves feel what we wanted to, which was free.

Yours,

Laurel

Dear Kurt,

Things have gone sort of back to normal after last week. Hannah’s been staying with Natalie, and we’ve been eating at our table again, Natalie and Hannah trading Capri Suns, and me with my Nutter Butters. Instead of going off campus for lunch, Tristan and Kristen have sometimes been eating with us, too, because they are getting nostalgic about the end of high school, which is only three weeks away. Today was the first day that it was real shorts weather. I wore my cutoffs just above my fingertips that I made at the beginning of the year.

Since the night at the bridge, Sky and I have hung out a little bit at school. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on between us, but one good thing is that he’s not seeing Francesca anymore. And then today, I ran into him in the alley, and he asked me if I’d come over later. It was the first time he’d asked me to go to his house during normal hours. Unfortunately, it was an Aunt Amy night, and I had no idea how I’d get to go. I’ve been avoiding Mom entirely, so asking her to tell Aunt Amy to give me permission was out. And I didn’t feel like making up an elaborate lie. That left only one option—try telling Aunt Amy the truth. She’s been extra nice to me ever since I got upset that night, and I figured I had a shot.

When she picked me up after school, I asked her if we could go get French fries. On the way to Arby’s, I kept opening my mouth, and then closing it again. Finally, after we got through the drive-thru line, Aunt Amy turned to hand me the bag. I took a deep breath and said, “So, there’s this guy…”

She looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“… who I like. His name is Sky. He was actually, well, he was my boyfriend for a while.” I waited to see if Aunt Amy would freak out.

Instead of pulling back onto the street, she parked in the lot. Then she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

“I thought you’d be mad. I mean, it’s just that you never want me to do anything. You hardly let me spend the night at a friend’s house.”

Aunt Amy sighed. “I know that I’ve been a little bit strict with you. There are just so many dangers in this world, Laurel. I never want to see you suffer. Being a teenager was a really painful time for me. And I wanted to protect you from it. From all of it.”

When she said it like that, everything seemed different. She was the way she was not just because she believed in God and sin and all of that, but because she wanted to protect me, and suddenly, I felt thankful that she cared that much. “That’s really nice, Aunt Amy, but don’t you think everyone has to go through stuff?”

She paused a moment, and then she said, “I can’t stop you from growing up. But Laurel, you have to be careful … Of course I would recommend against a sexual relationship, certainly at your age, as would Our Lord, but I want you to know that if you do get into a situation where you—”

Oh no. A sex talk with Aunt Amy. I cut her off. “Right, well, we’re not. Having sex. I haven’t. We’re not even together anymore.” I ate a French fry and offered her the bag.

“What happened?” she asked. “Why did you break up?”

“It’s sort of a long story. Basically, I wasn’t really ready to be with him. There was a lot of stuff I still couldn’t say. And then I found out that he used to like May, which was awful, of course.”

Aunt Amy’s face melted with sympathy. “Yes,” she said, “I imagine that was really difficult.”

“Yeah. But on the other hand, he’s been a great friend, and I think I still like him, and I think he might like me again, too. And he asked me to come over tonight so that we could talk. So, do you think I could go?”

She looked torn. “Will a parent be home?”

“Yes,” I said. “His mom. She’s always there. And I promise not to be out late.”

Finally Aunt Amy said, “Okay.” Then she said, “I’m glad that you felt like you could talk to me.”

I saw that it really had made her happy. “Me too.” I smiled.

So later that evening Aunt Amy drove me to Sky’s. When she let me off, I kissed her cheek and thanked her for letting me go, and then I walked up to his door. The bulbs we’d planted in the fall were blooming now—tulips craning their necks all in the same direction, toward where the sun comes up.

I ignored my pounding heart and knocked.

Sky answered. “Hi,” he said. His body in the doorway was like a wall, protecting the house. We stood there in silence for a moment, and I wondered if maybe he’d changed his mind about asking me over.

“So, can I come in?”

Over his shoulder, I could see the shadow of his mother, peering toward the open door. “Skylar, who’s there?”

Finally I just ducked under his arm and stepped inside. The television was on, talking about someone’s dream house. Sky’s mom walked over. She had on her same bathrobe, and her hair was in the same frayed bun. She pointed to the cut tulips from the yard that stood proudly in a vase amid the clutter.

“Did you know if you put a penny in the water it keeps them straight?” she asked.

“Oh,” I said, “no, what a good trick. They’re really pretty.”

She smiled the kind of smile that made it seem as if it had honestly occurred to her to be happy in that moment. But then she just kept looking at me, like she was trying to figure out who I was.

“Mom, it’s Laurel,” Sky said. “You met her before. Outside, when we were planting the flowers.”

“Oh,” she said, “silly me.” But her eyes didn’t flash with recognition. “Can I get you a cup of tea?” she asked, a bit bewildered.

I followed her to the kitchen while she made it. Sky tried to help, but she swatted him away. She performed the ritual with careful, measured steps, as if she had memorized the motions as handles to hold on to, to keep her upright.

When I took the cup and smelled the peppermint steam, she said, “Skylar, I’m going to lie down. I’ll leave you two alone.”

I followed Sky across the squeaky floors to his bedroom. Unlike in the rest of the house, everything in his room had a place. The furniture and posters lined up in straight lines, like they were working hard to form a kind of sense. He had one of your posters, the one from In Utero, and one of the Rolling Stones.

Sky propped a pillow against the bedpost and gestured for me to sit down. I arranged myself on the edge of his bed.

“So…” I said.

“So,” he answered.

“So I never really thanked you for the night at the party. And the night at the bridge. And all of that. Thank you. For being there.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad that you let me.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Do you see her when you look at me? I mean May?”

“No. I see Laurel.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you even love me? I mean, why did you?”

“Because—because you remind me of my first concert. The one I told you about on New Year’s. You remind me of the feeling of wanting to make something.”

My heart twirled around in my chest when he said that, and it wanted to leap into his arms.

“Listen,” he went on, “I’m sorry that I took so long to tell you all of that stuff about May. And I’m sorry that I said it the way I did. But I don’t want you to think … I mean, the way I felt about you, I’ve never felt that way about a girl before. Not your sister or anyone.”

“You know how you said May didn’t have an easy time in high school or whatever? I just always thought that it was different from that. Why didn’t she ever tell me?”

“You were her little sister. She probably wanted to protect you from all of that stuff. She probably wanted you to look up to her.”

Maybe he was right. I thought about the lengths that she went to to make me believe she had wings when we were kids. Maybe May had needed me as much as I needed her. She needed the way I saw her, the way I loved her. “Do you think that I didn’t know her?” I asked. “What if I didn’t really know her?”

“Of course you knew her. You knew her for your whole life. Nothing changes who she was to you. Maybe it’s just when you get older, you understand things that you couldn’t before.”

“I think that after my parents split up, she must have been really angry at them. I mean, my mom spent May’s whole life telling her how she brought our family together. So she must have felt betrayed. Even though of course it wasn’t her fault, maybe she felt like it was. So maybe she was angry at herself, too.”

Sky said, “When she used to talk to me, she’d talk about you sometimes. How she hoped that growing up would be so much easier for you.”

I smiled to think of her saying that, but of course it wasn’t easy. I guess it’s not for anybody. The truth was too sad to feel right away. May couldn’t see how she was letting me get hurt, because she was hurting, too.

“I just want to go back in time and tell her that she could talk to me. That I would understand. That it could get better.”

“I know,” Sky said.

“The only thing I liked about that story you told me,” I said to Sky, “was Paul getting beat up. But I’m sorry that you got kicked out of school. That wasn’t fair.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It wasn’t fair what happened to you, either. Or what happened to her. A lot of things aren’t. I guess we can either be angry about it forever or else we just have to try to make things better with what we have now.”

I looked at him. “Yeah,” I said. “You’re right.”

I didn’t know if I would ever kiss Sky again or not, but it was nice to be able to talk about May with someone who knew her.

I looked up at your In Utero poster, with the picture of the winged woman with the see-through skin, watching Sky and me from the wall. I thought about how for a long time, I wanted to be soaring above the earth. I wanted Sky to see me as perfect and beautiful, the way I saw May. But really, we all just have these blood and guts inside of us. And as much as I was hiding from him, I guess part of me also always wanted Sky to see into me—to know the things that I was too scared to tell him. But we aren’t transparent. If we want someone to know us, we have to tell them stuff.

Yours,

Laurel

Dear Allan Lane,

On the way home after school today, Aunt Amy turned to me and asked, “Would you like to come to dinner with Ralph and me tonight?” (Ralph, aka the Jesus Man.)

He never comes to the house, at least not when I’m there, but she’s been seeing him, and the rose soap in the shower has turned into a diminishing pink disk. Maybe after I told her about Sky, she wanted to open up to me, too. Maybe inviting me along was part of her trying to be closer with me, I thought, so I agreed.