Far from the Tree(81)

“What are you doing up?”

“Eating ice cream. Where are you going?”

“You got up to eat ice cream and didn’t wake me? I’m hurt.”

“Where are you going?”

They were both whispering fiercely, trying not to wake up their dad. Maya was pretty sure if the circumstances weren’t so dire, they would have looked like they were doing a comedy routine.

“Just . . . somewhere.”

“Are you sneaking out?”

Maya nodded. “Don’t tell Dad, okay? I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Are you meeting someone?”

“I’m meeting . . . someone.”

Lauren’s face lit up. “Are you meeting Claire?”

“Shh!” Maya practically fell on top of her sister trying to keep her quiet. “You are the worst at being sneaky, you know that?”

“Only you would think that was an insult,” Lauren replied, but she didn’t sound too upset. She was even grinning. “Oh my God, are you and Claire getting back together?”

“Just cover for me if Dad wakes up, okay?”

“How do I cover for you?”

Maya was fairly certain that she was going to murder her sister that night. “Lauren!” she whisper-cried. “Just be quiet and go back to bed, okay? I’ll text you when I’m back.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Lauren looked positively gleeful. “Just apologize for whatever you did and get back together, okay? You’ve been moping around for weeks, and so has she.”

Maya had no idea if this was true, but she wasn’t going to waste time arguing with Lauren about it. “Good night,” she said. “Also, stop eating all the ice cream. Leave some for me next time.”

Lauren threw her a mock salute, then climbed the stairs as Maya slipped out the front door.

By the time she got to the park, everything was a pulsing red behind her eyes, each burst of color in perfect sync with her heartbeat. Maya wasn’t sure if it was love, fear, or just plain stupidity, but the colors picked up speed when she saw Claire waiting in the parking lot for her.

Claire had her hands jammed into her hoodie pockets, the hoodie pulled up over her hair so that Maya could only see her face. She thought it was still one of the most beautiful faces she had ever seen. “Hi,” Maya said as soon as she was close enough.

“Hey,” Claire said. She sounded disaffected, cool, all blues and violets, the opposite of the hot ember glow that burned inside Maya.

“Hi,” Maya said again. She suddenly felt as dumb as she had the first time she’d met Claire, tongue-tied and awkward. “I just, yeah. I just wanted to tell you. About my birth mom.”

Claire nodded her head toward one of the picnic benches. “You want to sit?”

Maya nodded and followed her.

“So,” Claire said. “Talk.”

Maya wished she had planned this out a bit. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it.

So she told Claire everything.

She told her about Grace and the baby, about Joaquin and Natalie and the failed adoption. She told her about Lauren and their fight, how their mom had looked on the floor with blood coming out of her head, the way her dad had flown home and cried in the hospital when he saw his daughters. She told Claire about the safe and the envelope and the address, their scheduled trip for the next day and how she was missing Family Day at the center. She told Claire everything she could possibly think of to say, and at the end, she felt wrung out and exhausted.

“Okay,” Claire said when she was done. “But My, how do you feel about all of that?”

Maya blinked. “What?”

“How do you feel?” Claire turned to look at her. “Don’t you get it? Every time you get scared or feel all these big things, you run.”

“I—”

“You pushed me away.” There was no missing the wobble in Claire’s voice when she said, “You can’t just keep opening and closing this door, saying nothing to me and then texting me in the middle of the night. Shit, Maya, you broke my heart!”

Maya felt very small sitting in the dark. “I didn’t mean to break anything,” she said. And suddenly she thought of Joaquin. Why? He was saying he didn’t want to be adopted by the two people who loved him more than anything in the world, and . . .

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “I’m doing it, too.”

“Doing what?” Claire asked, but Maya was starting to cry.

“I’m doing it, too,” she wept. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to know. About my mom, about any of it. I got scared and I . . . I panicked. I—I don’t want to be alone!”

“My, My, calm down.” Claire’s hands were soft on her face, softer than Maya had any right to feel. “You’re not alone. A lot of people love you and care about you—what are you talking about?”

“I’m so sorry!” Maya said again. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I miss you so much and I hurt you and I thought that I was only hurting myself, but I hurt you, too, and I’m so sorry . . .”

“It’s okay,” Claire whispered. “I forgive you, it’s okay.” But now she was crying, too, and when she leaned in to kiss Maya, Maya could taste the white-hot salt of their tears mingling together. “It’s okay,” Claire whispered again. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”