Forever for a Year(12)

Then I stopped talking and my whole chest just heaved up and down. I couldn’t breathe. But I could, obviously—it just felt like I was going to suffocate from so much craziness pounding under my skin.

Then my mom said, “Okay. Okay. I won’t let him move in.”

Then she didn’t say anything. I didn’t either. My breathing was almost normal again. I wiped my snotty, teary face with my sweaty soccer shirt. It was drenched.

“He did ask … to bring dinner over tonight. Is that okay?”

My face wanted to cry some more, but I was too tired. I didn’t want to see my dad, I didn’t, but I didn’t want to make my mom’s life harder. She’s fragile, you know? So I nodded yes, it was okay. Then my head, without me even telling it to, fell across the seat onto her chest. She laid her chin on the top of my head.

*

My mom works as a nurse in the emergency room at the Leary County Hospital. When I was eight, my dad lost his job at Northwestern University, and for a while my mom supported the whole family. How could a man hurt a woman who supported him like that? The worst part is that we were all so happy when he got a new job at Northern Illinois University, not knowing the new job would ruin everything. See, NIU was almost two hours away, so some days he would stay the night near the school. And eventually he stayed more than he used to. I tried not to think about it, but my mom kept getting sadder and sadder. On nights he didn’t come home, she would make me food but not eat any herself, then watch TV in bed when she used to read next to me while I did my homework.

When my brother, Heath, came home for spring break last year (he goes to college in Colorado), my dad made sure to be home the whole week—because he really does love his kids, I think. But my mom couldn’t turn off her depression anymore, even though she kept saying everything was fine. Heath talked to my dad, who then talked to my mom, who then talked to me, and I was the one who cried the most and yelled at my dad, who couldn’t say anything to me, couldn’t even look me in the eyes, and I told him to leave and never come back, and he left, even though my mom never officially kicked him out.

*

When we pulled into the driveway, my dad’s car was already parked in his old spot in the garage. My mom squeezed my hand before we went inside and said, “I’ll tell him he can’t spend the night. A really big favor to me would be if you were nice to him, Carolina. For me. Please?”

I didn’t say yes, and I didn’t even nod, but I decided, maybe, I would try.

Then we walked inside, where my dad had set the table, which he never did, and put out Indian food, which he picked up a lot before I kicked him out. When he saw me, he sung my name: “Carolina!” Hearing him, and seeing him there making the house warm before we got home, and singing Carolina not Carrie, and my mom smiling even though she didn’t want to smile, made me smile even though I didn’t want to either.

While I went to the bathroom my mom must have talked to my dad about not staying over. Because when I came back to the kitchen, he was not quite as jumpy/singing happy as when we first came home. But he tried to pretend he was and kept hugging us while we ate, and I told him about my first day of school. About the classes, not about Shannon Shunton or the new boy. My dad thinks popularity is even dumber than I do, so he would just make me feel dumb for caring or even mentioning it, probably, or convince me to not become friends with Shannon, which I sort of wanted to do, even though it is dumb.

As I talked, he especially hugged my mom, petting her almost. And this made her giggle, and it was cute, but, I don’t know, I didn’t want her to fall in love with him again. But then I realized she probably never fell out of love with him, so she couldn’t help it, and I decided to not think about it. And just let them be for tonight. They were both grown-ups, right? Well, at least my mom was. I’m kidding. I can be funny, even though I’m smart.

My dad did the dishes and then he got ready to leave, even though he looked like a sad dog who didn’t want to go in his cage.

“Bye, Scott. Thank you for dinner,” I said, and then hugged him for only a second.

“Carolina, I really enjoyed hearing about your first day of school,” he said, and I could tell he would keep talking so I went to get my laptop from my bedroom, leaving my mom to say good-bye to my dad alone. When I came back and he was gone, the house felt so hollow, like a tornado had sucked out a whole room.

I set up my computer in the living room. For the first time in a long time, my mom got a book and read next to me on the couch.

After I finished my math homework, which I always do first because it’s so dull, I gave myself five minutes to look at Facebook, which some people say isn’t cool. But I think people are just trying to be cool by saying it’s not cool because everyone still uses it. Maybe in, like, the future when cars fly nobody will use it, but they probably will.

So after I signed in, I saw a new friend request.

From Trevor Santos.

Who I totally didn’t know.

Wait a minute.

Until I clicked on his page.

And saw it was the new boy.

Wait a minute!

THE new boy.

Oh. My. Gosh.





8

Trevor runs even though it’s pointless

“Who coaches cross-country?” I asked Mr. Pasquini, the gym teacher, after I had the front-office lady switch my schedule back. Just in case. Right?