I Liked My Life(48)

The second group includes Kathleen, who is blind. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I can’t exactly hand a blind girl a bottle of glue and say, “Make a rectangle.” Maybe I should bail at the end of the day. I mean, legally, can I switch jobs? There were a ton of options that fulfilled the hours, the simplest filling ice trays at the senior center. It’s not that I don’t want to help, I do, I feel terrible for these kids, but I’m afraid I’ll do more harm than good.

Kathleen sits at the freshly cleaned picnic table in total silence. “How old are you?” I ask.

“Twelve.”

“Where do you live?”

“Framingham.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yes.” But apparently no interest in telling me about them.…

I take the hint and leave her alone. I’d be pissed too, stuck at a camp where my only choice was to sit there. When Robin stops over to check in, I quietly suggest Kathleen stay at a different station twice since she can’t really participate in art. Suddenly Kathleen is at my side, tugging my sleeve. How does she know where my arm is? “Excuse me, Miss Eve,” she interrupts, “but this is my favorite activity.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “But you aren’t able to do the project.”

“I’m doing it with my imagination,” she says. “I love art.”

I’m such a freaking idiot. This whole time I’ve been interrupting her with pointless questions.

As the group files out of my station, I approach Kathleen. “I’m sorry about the confusion. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to give you some peace and quiet while you think.”

Her face lifts. “It’s hard to know what to do with me sometimes. Thanks for apologizing. No one ever does that.”

I smile. My mom would have. She was big into accountability. Who makes mistakes? she’d ask out of nowhere when I was a kid. Everyone! I’d shout, as she trained me to. And what do you do when you realize you’ve made a mistake? she’d ask, her voice getting louder. Acknowledge! Apologize! Address! I’d cheer.

I get home and take a nap without stopping for lunch. I’m too exhausted to even sneak some of my mom’s journal. I’ll deserve a trip to Paris by the time these two weeks are up.

I awake to a ringing phone and slobber on my pillow. Still groggy, I take a second to process that it’s John’s number. His thirty days in rehab are over. I’d be a giant ass to ignore this call.

“Hey,” he says, pretending all is normal.

“Hey back,” I play along.

Silence. There’s no way to move the conversation forward without giving up the act. “We need to talk,” he says. “Can you pick me up?”

“Sure.” Better to get the breakup over with before he hooks up with someone and causes drama. I head to his house in sweats and no makeup, knowing this isn’t a date that ends with a selfie.

When John gets in the car I notice he’s lost weight and, for summer, is way pale. He’s still completely hot, but it’s like looking at a magazine photo; he doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

“Was it horrible?” I ask.

“Nah … it wasn’t that bad. It was crazy to hear how messed up some people get. The circle would come to me and I was like the loser. Compared to those crack heads I haven’t done shit.”

“Sounds depressing.”

He flings his chin my way. “Probably wasn’t as bad as things have been for you. You holding up?”

I think of the night I just spent crying so hard I hyperventilated. “Yeah, I’m good.” I wish we weren’t in a car. It forces us to be so close.

“Jake and Noel said they haven’t seen you around.”

“Yeah, well, my dad’s needed me, and I have the community-service thing.”

He puts a leg up on my dashboard. “I hope you can forgive me for the accident, Eve. I know it’s the last thing you needed.”

The apology reminds me that he’s a good guy. I hadn’t been thinking he was a bad guy; I’d just stopped thinking about him altogether.

“Oh my God, John. I’m the whole reason we dragged ourselves to your car. It’s my fault. I know your father blames me, like we were on some kind of death wish or something.”

“My father blames a lot of people for a lot of things. I think it goes with being a judge.”

“Well, I’m wicked sorry you got in so much trouble. Thank God no one got hurt.”

“Yeah.”

I know he has more to say because he flips his thumbs in circles without letting them touch, the way he did the first time he said he loved me. It’s crazy to compare how much I cared then with how little I care now.

“Here’s the thing though, I know my dad said we couldn’t talk, but I was surprised you didn’t send a letter or anything.”

I look down at my lap. “I’m sorry. I suck. There’s been a lot going on. Just constant shit.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s fine anyway; I’m only wondering if we are, you know, fine.” His eyes are on me now, looking for clues.

“Is that what you want?” My voice can’t hide my surprise.

“Of course that’s what I want. I love you. I don’t see why a car accident should change anything.” He places a hand on my knee. I look at it. He loves me. Huh. I feel like I barely know him.