Forever for a Year(85)

But Trevor started talking. “She wants to stay here. You two should leave us alone.”

“She needs to go home,” his mom said.

“She wants to stay,” Trevor said again.

“I want to stay,” I said, then put my arm through Trevor’s and laid my head on his shoulder. It was us against them. It was our love against their disgustingness.

“Carrie—we need to go home. I told your mom you were here, but she’d like you home. You can call Trevor tomorrow.”

“No,” I said to him, to Scott, even though I’d promised to never speak to him again. I knew I would never call him Dad again. Ever. Ever. Ever.

“Carolina, I’m sorry,” Trevor’s mom said, “this is a bad situation, and we can’t deal with it right now in this way. Go with your dad. He needs to talk to you. I need to talk to Trevor.”

“No,” Trevor said, holding me tighter.

“Trevor?” a voice came from atop the stairs. We all turned to find Lily. Trevor looked at me. We both knew what the right thing to do was now that Lily was there.

“Do you have a big coat?” I asked. He nodded, fetched one from the front closet, kissed me on the lips, and then opened the door for me. I walked out to my dad’s car. I was freezing, but I didn’t care. I got in the passenger seat. My dad got in next to me.





76

Trevor buys Lily pancakes

After I watched Carolina and her dad pull out of our driveway and disappear down the street, I closed the door, looked at my mom—where I was standing, Lily couldn’t see me—and mouthed I f*cking hate you.

She said, “That’s your right.” What did that even mean?

I walked back upstairs, led Lily to her room, closing and locking the door behind us.

“Why’d you lock the door, Trevor?”

“Because Mom needs to be by herself for a while.”

“She might need our help,” Lily said. Seven years old. More concerned about her mom than her mom was about her.

“Get in bed,” I said. “I’m going to sleep on the floor. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“I love you, Lily.”

“I’m worried about Mom.”

“She’ll be okay.”

“What if she hurts herself? We have to save her.”

“She won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do,” I said. But I didn’t know. I just didn’t care.

*

In the morning, I told Lily to get dressed in warm clothes. I did the same. Then we walked toward the train station.

“But we should check on Mom,” she said as we walked outside.

“Mom will be fine. We need to eat.” I wasn’t even hungry, but I just had to be outside of that house until my dad’s plane landed in the afternoon.

We got into my dad’s BMW at the station, and I drove us to Roth’s Diner. We ordered strawberry crepes and chocolate pancakes and shared them both.

“Trevor,” Lily said after she took a big bite of chocolate pancakes. Her face was smeared with it.

“Yeah?” I said.

“I know I’m only seven, but I’m smart.”

“I know,” I said.

“You think I don’t know things, but I do.”

“I know,” I said.

“But maybe it’s better if we don’t talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Isn’t it funny how we don’t talk about the most important things?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s hilarious,” she said, then took another bite. And, poof, it was like her brain wiped clean any bad thoughts. Nodding her head blissfully to the cheesy restaurant music. I wish I could do that. Maybe I could when I was seven. Maybe my parents’ crap was just as bad back then but I wiped it clean because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to live with either of them. You have to when you’re seven. You can’t feed yourself or go anywhere by yourself. Not really. But I was old now. Maybe I couldn’t wipe it clean anymore because I knew I could take care of myself. If I really needed to, I could go get a job or hunt deer or at least go live in a shelter or something. Maybe that’s it. Maybe as soon as you’re old enough to survive without your parents, you’re old enough to see your parents for who they really are.





77

Carolina gets into a Toyota 4Runner

As he drove me from Trevor’s, my dad kept saying, “Can we talk?” But I didn’t say anything back. I didn’t look at him. Trevor’s coat was big and long, but underneath I had on only a T-shirt and boxers. Underneath I was so cold. Underneath I was numb. So, so, so numb. But not numb enough, you know?

When my dad parked in our driveway, I said, “Don’t you ever come inside, ever, ever again.” I ran out of the car and took out my key, but my mom was awake and opening the front door for me.

“Are you okay?” she asked. No, I wasn’t. Oh my gosh, I would never be okay again. Okay? Okay? But then I thought my mom already knew. That’s why she had been so sad. I should have said, Are you okay, Mom? and hugged her or said nothing and hugged her or even just said nothing, but instead I said, “You picked the worst husband in history,” and went to my room. So mean. I shouldn’t be mean to my mom. She has a husband who’s mean to her, so her daughter should be nice. But she had let him back in our life. She had let him hurt us all over again. I would never let a man hurt me like that. Never.