Текст книги "Finding Me "

Автор книги: Mariah Dietz

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “Help me find Max.”

Kendall’s eyes seem to curl as her smile spreads even wider, and her hand tightens around mine with silent assurance.

Our heads turn, scanning every inch of the yard. I glaze over the smiles that invite us to stop and make conversation. Without focusing on a single one, I know none of them are Max; his presence is something that I feel.

My body involuntarily turns and I see Max tucked by the back fence with his father. His eyes find mine nearly instantly and my heart stops, seeing the allegation that has his eyes narrowed and his brows knitted. I drop Kendall’s arm and without thought, I approach him, feeling the violent pulsation of my heart. Max’s jaw tightens as I reach them.

“Here she is!” Tim’s voice is light and jovial, but I don’t turn to acknowledge him, my head is spinning trying to grasp the right words, as I maintain Max’s stare.

“You found my dad?” Max’s eyes are unreadable. I don’t recognize the emotions behind them, but his tone, although quiet, isn’t laced with gratitude or shock; it’s uncertain.

I’m sure each beat of my heart is visible as I remain frozen in place, not certain how to respond or continue.

“Why? Why did you find him?”

“I don’t know exactly … It started as something to do to get my mind off focusing on my own dad, and everything that happened with us. That led me to trying to understand your fears better so I didn’t have to think so much about my own. It somehow became a project, an obsession for me to complete because I couldn’t give you back my dad, or change what had happened, but I could give you something else to show you that—”

Max’s head shakes, and his hand rises to cut my words off, then he turns to Tim. “You didn’t come because you wanted to find us. You came because you were guilted into it.”

“Max, no,” Tim objects. I catch the movement of his head-shake out of the corner of my eye. “I’ve wanted to find you and your brothers for years. I just never had the guts to do it, but she taught me a really important lesson.”

“And what’s that?” Max asks.

“That there are no guarantees in life. I may not have another ten years to wait around and wonder if you guys will accept me back into your lives.”

My eyebrows rise for a second because I hadn’t been insightful at all when I had found Tim. The first few times we spoke I had been purely factual, concerned he was the right Tim Miller and that he deserved to meet Max.

“She’s really something special,” Tim says, and I feel myself cringe because I know Max well enough to know his dad’s encouragement is not going to help me right now.

“When are you leaving?” Max’s words nearly cut off the end of Tim’s, and my fists clench with nerves.

“Monday, I have two days left.” My voice sounds uncertain of my answer, but Max nods a few times and then reaches for the latch on the gate beside us and doesn’t look back as he heads to his truck.

“Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”

–Carl Bard

“What happened?” Kendall asks as I catch Wes’s keys.

I shake my head in response. I can’t respond to her right now because I’m not sure what in the hell just happened. I don’t know if Max is mad because I found his dad, or that we hadn’t told him, or because my presence may have ended his current relationship, or if it was even anger that he was fighting to conceal, and it’s causing my own feelings to jumble into a tangle that’s difficult for me to sort through.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks.

“No, I need to talk to him alone.”

“Call me, okay? If you need anything, just call me,” Kendall says as I turn to the house to leave.

Standing in the street I turn and look for Wes’s truck and find Fitz with his hands in his pockets, standing in the middle of the street, staring at me.

“What are you doing?” His words and face are pained.

“I need to talk to him.”

“Harper, what are you doing?” he repeats.

“I need to talk to him, Fitz!” I continue toward the line of cars, but Fitz’s hand snakes around my arm, stopping me.

“Who in the hell are you?” His words sting, but the accusation in his narrowed eyes is what maims me. “Who’s this alter ego Ace? And since when do you know how to cook anything besides cereal? The girl I knew used to be sad and had some tough times, but you were also fierce, driven, and brave. I never realized it was all from your weaknesses. You’re living in this make believe world, trying to hold all these pieces together, and I don’t think you even know who you are anymore. Are you Ace or are you Harper? Do you love Max or do you love Danny? Are you staying or are you going?”

Fitz’s eyes bore into mine, but I can’t answer him. I don’t know the answer to any of his questions.

“Unrequited love is a fickle bitch, Harper. I know it sucks, but sometimes you need to learn what’s good for you.” His hand slides from my arm and reaches to the back of his neck. “I’m going home. You need to figure your shit out.”

He walks over to a taxi that I hadn’t even noticed, and like Max, he doesn’t look back before he disappears.

I kick off my shoes and leave them in Wes’s truck. I’m not sure what brought me here. I’d stopped by the cemetery first and cried my way through my words and confusion until the sky began to turn gray. Now looking out over the ocean at the familiar stretch of beach that Max and I used to frequent, the clouds reflect my own emotions with varying hues of gray streaking the skies, some so dark they’re nearly black. I understand that darkness.

I head straight into the surf. It laps up to my knees, soaking the hem of my dress, and quickly moving up to the bodice. I’ve always been terrified of the ocean; her strength and unseen secrets have always had me admiring her from afar. Yet I feel mesmerized as I stand here, facing one of my biggest fears, and watching as the waves roll against me, pushing and pulling. My thoughts follow the waves, feeling the familiar pull to stay and the even more familiar push to run.

“What are you doing?” Max’s familiar voice hits me harder than the next wave that meets my waist. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” he shouts from the shore, but doesn’t wait for me to respond as he wades into the water, still wearing his suit.

A breeze blows past, stinging the path of hot tears on my cheeks. I swallow and dip my hands in the cool water to help bring some focus. “I just needed a moment,” I explain, reaching up and wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I just needed to think.”

“About what?”

“About you. About us.”

“There is no us.” He stops beside me and stares out into the ocean.

I nod, though I want to disagree. “I know.”

“Do you? Because I had to work really hard to get you out of my head.”

“It looks like you did a good job of erasing me from your entire life.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that the reason you moved across the damn country?”

I swallow again and take a deep breath through my nose to steady my breathing so I can try and explain why I left.

“You need to get on with your life. You did this, this was what you wanted.”

“This isn’t what I wanted, Max!” My anger burns as hot as the tears in my eyes as I face him. “You said you were done! You kicked me out of your house! This wasn’t just my doing!”

“You started pushing me away the day your dad died. You had no intention of sticking around. Don’t you put this back on me!”

“I couldn’t stay because my mom was right. I knew that you’d move on and I couldn’t stand by and watch. It would have killed me. I wouldn’t have been able to survive.”

“Move on?” Max growls. “I was pissed off because you got up and left in the middle of the night without warning. You started separating yourself that day! If you couldn’t see that I was hurt and scared out of my mind, then you never knew me as well as I thought you did.”

“I knew you were scared, but you wouldn’t even talk to me, Max! You made me question everything! I didn’t know if anything we had was real, because you were so content with pushing me out of your life.”

“It was all in your head!” His voice is raised, I can sense that he’s about to lose control as well. “You never let me in far enough to see the fears you had from the very beginning. You never let me know about the things that haunted you! You kept everything from me!”

“I gave you as much as I could. I tried to give you every piece of me.”

“You gave me the pieces that were easy and didn’t scare you.”

“Every piece I gave you scared the hell out of me! Are you kidding me?”

“I loved you more than anything, more than anything. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“It had nothing to do with you, Max. It had to do with me. I needed to find out who I am.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure it out on your own, then. I’m trying with every ounce of my being to let you go. I don’t know what in the hell is going to happen, and I hate every fucking bit of this, but I’m trying.” Max’s head drops so he’s facing the nearly dark sky. “I’m fucking trying!” he yells.

Tears stream down my cheeks, making my body clench from the coldness that swallows me as my dress soaks in more of the cool ocean water, and I nod. “I know.”

Max’s blue eyes are glazed with his own sadness and defeat. I don’t know what else to say or if there is anything more to say. I close my eyes to stop noting each detail of Max’s face because this isn’t an expression I want to remember. I turn and take one last long look out at the Pacific Ocean, then wade back to the shore with my dress clinging to me. Water drips to the sand, making it stick to my feet and legs as I traipse up to the parking lot, but I don’t care. I don’t care about a single thing.

My heart throbs each time his words echo in my mind, confirming my fears: I’ve lost Max. I hate myself for what I’ve already decided, but I know that right now, I can’t stay. I need to distance myself and allow my heart to heal, and there’s no way that’s going to happen while staying at Max’s house, even if it is also Kendall’s now.

I search everywhere for a piece of paper to write a note to my sister and the others and eventually find a yellow-rule notepad that I tear several pages from.

Kendall,

I know I’m going to break your heart today by leaving, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I can’t stay right now, but I will be back. I’ll be back soon, and you’ll come to Delaware. I love you too. So much. You’re the greatest sister in the world. Thank you for helping me face my fears.

I love you,

Ace

I leave it on her pillow and grip the Sharpie and other pages and head to the kitchen.

I’m sorry. I don’t mean to suck so bad at goodbyes, but it’s time for me to leave. I love you all.

XOXOXOXO

Love,

Ace

I leave it on the kitchen table along with Wes’s keys and zip my second suitcase as the cab pulls up out front.

Even though I’m a blubbering mess, the cab driver still attempts to make friendly conversation until he realizes that I’m beyond the ability to converse, and then he begins pointing out landmarks. Thankfully it’s a short ride.

I have to use my mom’s credit card when I get through the ticket line, because changing my ticket costs an arm and leg that I don’t have. Fortunately though, they’re able to get me on a flight that leaves in an hour and is going straight to Chicago and then a morning flight that will take me to Delaware.

People stare at me as I make my way through security, wiping tears that still fall without thought. My tears multiply when a woman brushes her hand over my arm, and I look around to realize that the people staring at me are all wearing matching faces of concern and sympathy—because even though as a species we can be heartless and have moments filled with barbaric acts, we still genuinely care for the well-being of one another, and it pains each of us when we recognize someone else experiencing despair.

When I step through the scanner, a TSA rep hands me my bin containing my shoes and other sundry items and glances at my ticket. “You’ve got a real short trip. Up to your left and only three gates on your right.”

I try to smile through the tears that make my cheeks feel dry and stretched too tight to show my appreciation even though I already know where I’m going.

I take a seat in a vacant row, yet within seconds, an older man sits beside me. Without saying anything, his hand reaches over and he places it atop of mine and slowly pats me. The small, but kind gesture only serves to make me cry even harder. We sit together like this for over an hour, until my heart finally settles down enough that my breathing starts to even out and my tears recede, falling every few minutes.

When the speakers announce boarding for my section, I turn my bleary eyes to the older man and smile to show my gratitude before I stand up and make my way into the short line, avoiding eye contact with those I can feel staring at me.

I fall asleep before the flight crew finishes with the safety instructions and miss my favorite part: the take off.

When we land in Chicago, I power on my phone to call Fitz and am greeted with six voicemails and a dozen texts. I know without looking they’re from my sisters so I ignore them. I don’t think I can take hearing how hurt they all are.

Fitz’s phone rings twice before he ignores my call and sends me to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I just landed in Chicago.” I attempt to take a deep breath, but it’s shallow as I wipe at my eyes that feel dry and scratchy with the return of more tears. “I wanted to invite you over for some pizza, so I can tell you about Ace, Max, and my parents. I wasn’t ever trying to lie to you, Fitz—I was trying to lie to myself. I’m really sorry.”

I press end and reach to place it in my pocket when it vibrates. I anxiously look to see if it’s Fitz and see that it’s a text from Kyle.

Kyle: R U ok?

Me: No, but I’m working on it. And will be.

Kyle: What happened?

Me: Reality check

Kyle: If I kill him would U come back home?

Me: Worst joke ever…

Me: It’s my fault Kyle. It’s all my fault. I just need to learn to move on. Thank you for everything. I love you too.

Kyle: It’s not all UR fault.

Me: It is. Max was a casualty—don’t be mad at him

He doesn’t respond. I don’t know if he doesn’t want to admit that I’m right, or if he’s just trying to heal another wound that I’ve inflicted upon my family.

When I turn from the luggage carousel with both of my bags in hand, arms pull me against a fluffy jacket that smells of spearmint and cologne. It’s Fitz. I release both handles of my bags and reach around him, feeling my eyes fill with new tears. He hugs me fiercely, as though he’s afraid a piece of me might drift away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

“Kendall called,” he says softly into my hair. “We talked for a really long time. She introduced me to Ace, and I introduced her to Harper.”

“I think that the two of us are going to coexist now. Or at least try.”

Fitz and I return to my apartment where we spend the day talking about things I’ve only ever shared with Kitty, and some things that I’ve barely shared with myself.

The next morning, I realize that Fitz left after I’d fallen asleep. Every trace of my wallowing day has disappeared along with him. The ice cream cartons we emptied and takeout pizza and Chinese containers are all gone, and my counters are wiped down as though it never happened, but it did, and my heart feels lighter.

Rather than going to the gym, or the small convenience stand to get my coffee and newspaper, I take Miller Avenue. I take it fifteen minutes out of my way and then turn and suffer through a main commute time until I reach the familiar brick house and put my car into park.

I ring the doorbell and wait, feeling a parade of emotions warming up in my belly. When the door opens, a tall man that is thick and has an even thicker gray mustache looks down at me in confusion. He’s wearing a pair of old stone-washed jeans and a black NY Jets sweatshirt. He’s nothing like what I expected.

“I’m sorry, I was looking for Dr. Clarke.”

“Kitty,” he calls over his shoulder.

Kitty appears beside him, her narrow frame looking thinner. I try not to question if it’s because of her illness or just the silk robe that looks a few sizes too big. She has a turquoise bandana tied around her head that I now know is bald, and her small hands are wrapped around a large cup of coffee. Her eyes grow with concern as soon as she sees me, and I know that it isn’t for her appearance—it’s for me and what this trip did.

I shake my head silently, working against the parade that’s started to play. I catch Kitty hand her husband her cup through my tear-bleary eyes and then feel her arms around me.

“I need to know what’s going to happen. I need to know what’s wrong. Maybe we can fix this. There are so many alternative treatments and new trial drugs.” My voice becomes more garbled with each word, and I have to stop for a second because my throat’s become so tight I can’t even breathe. “We can fix this.”

Kitty pulls me through the front door, and we stand just inside in a tangle of arms and tears until my breathing begins to turn normal. She pulls away from me with her cheeks as red and tear stained as I’m sure my own are and squeezes my hand in hers.

She waves me to their kitchen which is littered with dishes from their breakfast.

“I’m sorry, Kitty, I should have called. I just…”

“Harper, you don’t need to apologize. I’ve been worried about you. I’m glad that you’re here. I’m sorry for what I said—”

This time I interrupt her by shaking my head. “No. I know why you said it. I understand what you’re saying now. I have to be able to take risks and live my life because there are no guarantees. I get it now. For so long I feel like I’ve been afraid of getting old because I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m always so worried that I’m going to fail or not live up to my potential…” I look at her and my eyes well with tears again, begging her for forgiveness, “Now I’m afraid that I won’t have the chance to get old. That I won’t get enough time for failures and regrets.”

Her hand squeezes mine again, and I focus on why I came. “I need to know what’s wrong. I know that it’s none of my business and that we’re supposed to have a professional relationship, but…” My eyes travel across the rounded edge of the table beside me and then back to Kitty. “You’re a lot more than just my counselor.”

Kitty and I sit at the kitchen table and she explains her diagnosis of breast cancer with me. She skates over her treatment plan and ends with the prognosis which was dealt with grim results.

“There are all kinds of theories and trials. We can try some diet changes. My dad was friends with an oncologist that was studying this Swedish scientist that was having breakthroughs with dietary adjustments. Vitamin C in large doses is crazy. They can put it in you intravenously and it swarms the cancer. I’ve seen it happen through studies.” My head shakes as I try to sift through the onslaught of ideas that are storming through my brain.

“Harper, you can’t fix everything. That’s not your responsibility.”

“I’m not trying to fix everything. I’m trying to fix this. Please, let me.”

“S’il vous plaît essayer.”

My body stiffens, feeling as though a ghost has just appeared. It takes me several blinks to see Kitty’s husband clearly and longer than it should to translate his gruff voice racing in French, pleading with Kitty to listen to me and to try.

After a long pause I add, “S’il vous plaît essayer.”

Kitty’s eyes and her husband’s turn to me with surprise as I plead with her to try. “My dad spoke French fluently,” I quietly explain.

After a while, Kitty agrees to allow me to reach out to different doctors and is willing to discuss an alternative route of treatment.

I spend the day at her house, calling up old associates and friends of my father’s and working through his network to direct me to several specialists that agree to help because of knowing my dad. Her husband, Jeff, and I speak in French without either of us ever agreeing to do so, and it feels good to pull it out, and stretch it across my tongue.