The Distance Between Us(61)

“They were there tonight at the benefit.”

“Wow. That’s crazy.”

I push myself to sitting. “It is crazy, right? I should be mad about it. At my mom. At Xander.”

“You’re mad at Xander because your grandparents are rich?”

“No. Because that’s the only reason he liked me.”

“Is that what he said?”

“Well, no. But . . .” I run my hands down my face. “But how is either of us ever going to know for sure one way or the other? Even if he claims he would’ve kept dating me either way, we’ll never know because he did know and we can’t prove anything now.”

Skye takes my hand in hers. “Not everything has to be proven. Maybe you should just trust him.”

“And what about my mom? Should I trust her, too? Because she lied to me my whole life. And I’m angry. And I feel guilty for being angry because she’s sick.” I flop back on the couch and stare at the ceiling.

“I understand. I’d be angry, too. But don’t you think they deserve to know she’s sick?”

“Who?”

“Her parents.”

I nod. I know she’s right. “Tomorrow, will you call Xander and get their information for me?”

“You don’t want to talk to him?”

I press my palms to my eyes. “No. And please don’t tell him what’s going on with my mom. The last thing I need is for him to feel sorry for me and come to see me out of guilt.”

“Yes, of course I’ll get their info for you.” She moves to the floor and lays her head next to mine on the couch. “Why don’t you try to sleep. I’ll watch the phone for you.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Do you want Henry to come over? He can play his guitar. Maybe distract you for a while.”

“It’s three thirty in the morning. Don’t you think he’s asleep?”

She looks at her phone, which confirms the time. “Probably not. He’s a night owl.”

“I think night ends at two. He must be an early-morning owl.”

“Why does night end at two?”

“I don’t know. That’s usually as late as I can stay up so it must be when night ends.”

She laughs and fires off a text message. “If he answers he’s awake; if not he’s asleep.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty scientific way of determining whether someone is awake or asleep.”

She playfully taps my head. “I’m glad you haven’t lost your sarcasm.”



Sometime in the early morning I decide Henry is a nice guy. I’m glad Skye was able to see past his pointy nose. I fall asleep to his guitar playing.

When I open my eyes I see Skye across the room on the phone. I go from half asleep to fully aware in one second, springing off the couch and nearly tripping over Henry, who is asleep on the floor. She sees me coming and waves her hand at me, shaking her head. Then she mouths “Xander,” and I immediately turn back around and drop onto the couch. Hopefully she’s getting my grandparents’ info without too much trouble, and then he can completely rid his life of me.

“No,” Skye says. “She’s asleep.”

What time is it anyway? I reach down and twist the watch on Henry’s wrist so I can read it. Ten thirty in the morning. Wow. I got at least five hours of sleep. Then how come it still feels like someone bashed my face in with a bat? And why isn’t Skye off the phone yet? How long does it take to write down a phone number and address?

“Xander, please,” I hear her say. She’s too nice. I would’ve had the number by now. Maybe I should call the hospital while I’m waiting. I look for the phone but then realize Skye’s on it. Why didn’t she use her cell? What if the hospital is trying to call right now? My anger toward Xander is coming back full force.

“No,” Skye says with a sigh that sounds too sweet. I’m about to stand up and take the phone from her when she says, “Thank you,” and writes something on the paper she’s holding. “Yes. Of course, I’ll let her know.” She hangs up the phone.

“Let me know what?”

“That he wanted to talk to you.”

“Good to know. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“I know.” She hands me the paper and then squats beside Henry, running a hand over his cheek. “Henry. Wake up.”

I kick his leg and he jerks awake. “Sometimes you have to be a little more forceful, Skye.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles. I say she should be more forceful, but I wouldn’t change her for the world.



An hour later I’m standing in the hospital lobby waiting for someone to help me. Nobody had called, but after Skye had to leave for work and I called my mom’s parents and filled them in, I couldn’t wait around any longer. Finally the receptionist hangs up the phone and says, “She’s in room three oh five. Take the elevator to the third floor and someone will buzz you into the wing from there, okay?”

“Thanks.”

I’m anxious. I just want to see my mom. If I see her, I know I’ll feel better. Most of my anger has changed to worry, but the anger still lingers there and I want it to leave. The moment I’m in her room and see her face, pale but peaceful, I breathe a sigh of relief. I pull a chair to her bedside and force myself to take her hand. “Hey, Mom,” I whisper. She doesn’t stir.