The Distance Between Us(32)

Inside I pick up the phone. Just as I’m about to push the intercom button, I stop myself. I don’t want to tell my mom about Matthew over the phone. I don’t want to tell her about Matthew at all. It’s not that my mom has never dated anyone. She has . . . on occasion. But she always tells me about it. So I have to assume that whoever Matthew is, he’s not someone she’s dating. And if she’s not dating him, then who is he?





Chapter 21



Two days later I stare at Xander’s camera bag on my bed. I had uploaded the pictures onto the computer and started working on the website. Anything to keep my mind off the fact that I haven’t seen Xander since Saturday night. I go over the night in my head. Him bringing over the French food, Mason showing up, me stepping back when Xander tried to touch my hair, our fight. I had been giving him the back-off signals all along, but apparently he didn’t take them until now.

I nudge the bag with my toe and sigh. For two days I had been contemplating whether to use the camera as an excuse to see him again. The whole “I just wanted to return your camera” bit. There are two problems with this. One, I have no idea where he lives. Two, I don’t have his phone number. There are also two solutions to this problem. One, I could call Mrs. Dalton and ask for Xander’s number. Two, I can show up at The Road’s End hotel and hope to run into him.

Solution number two wins. My mind spins this crazy idea that if I show up at the hotel he will just magically be there. I can say, “I was in the neighborhood,” and it won’t look so obvious or seem too creepy.

Things never work how I imagine them, though, so as I stand at the check-in counter in the fancy lobby of the hotel, talking to the clerk, I resign myself to the fact that this is not happening.

“I have his camera,” I say again.

“And like I told you before, if you leave it with me I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“If you can just tell me when he’ll be in or give me his address or something, I can drop it off.”

The look she gives me sends a pain through my heart. The look says, Do you know how many girls have tried to get Xander’s information? I take a step back from the look.

“You don’t want to leave it?”

I try to give her the look that lets her know I don’t trust her as I say, “It’s an expensive camera.” My look doesn’t seem to affect her as much as hers did me. The truth is if I were in her shoes, staring at me, I wouldn’t give me Xander’s info either.

I turn around and walk back the way I came, still clutching Xander’s camera. So on to option one, then. I’ll call Mrs. Dalton and get Xander’s number. I need to return his camera, after all. It’s really important.

The bag’s strap is tight around my hand because I have looped it several times to keep it from dragging on the ground. My fingers are turning more and more white the longer the circulation is cut off. Just as I reach the door I stop. Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I hanging onto this so tight? To him so tight? It shouldn’t be this hard. If it were right I wouldn’t be lying to my mother about it. I wouldn’t feel guilty about it. If it were right it would be easier.

I make my walk of shame back to the check-in desk and put the camera on top. “Yes. Will you give this to him?”

She nods and looks like she’s going to say something—thank you, maybe?—but then the phone rings and she picks it up and I’m forgotten. I take a deep breath and walk away. I can leave him behind, too. Here, where he belongs.

As I drive home I notice kids in costume fill the neighborhoods. How did I forget it’s Halloween? Old Town is empty of extra children, though. Not many people live in the business district. I park in the alley and come in through the back. The store is dark, just like I left it. It’s close to nine, and considering her habits lately, I expect my mom to be in bed already. I find her sitting on the couch watching a movie.

She looks over and smiles. “I thought maybe you went to a party tonight that I didn’t remember you telling me about.”

“No. I kind of forgot it’s Halloween.”

She pats the cushion next to her.

“What are you watching?”

“I don’t know, some Hallmark classic.”

I plop onto the couch next to her. “Let me guess, the lady has cancer and the man never knew but always loved her.”

“No. I think the little boy is sick and the mom is realizing how much time she’s spent at work.”

I pull onto me some of the blanket my mom has over her. We don’t say anything, just watch the movie, but it’s comfortable, familiar, and by the end of the movie, I feel much better. I’ve missed her. I’ve missed this.



The next day on my way into the store I brush by the mail carrier, who is on his way out. He nods a hello and I smile. My mom stands behind the counter sifting slowly through the mail. I wonder if she’s taking her time to avoid the bills waiting to be paid with money we don’t have. When she gets to the end she looks up at me. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

She holds up the envelopes. “Are you getting nervous?” she asks.

“Yes.” If only she knew how much.

“When do you think you’ll start hearing?”

“Hearing?”

“From Berkeley, Sac State, San Francisco, you know, colleges?”