Lock and Key(113)

When she finally finished a few minutes later, it was hard to tell if she was even aware that the crowds had thinned, the clock was off, and the announcer didn’t even call her time. But I do know that it was Olivia she turned to look for first, Olivia she threw her arms around and hugged tight, as that banner flapped overhead. Watching them, I thought again of how we can’t expect everybody to be there for us, all at once. So it’s a lucky thing that really, all you need is someone.

Back home, I sat down with my calculus notes, determined to study, but within moments my mind wandered past the numbers and figures and across the room to the picture of Jamie’s family, still up on the wall over my desk. It was the weirdest thing—I’d studied it a thousand times, in this same place, the same way. But suddenly, all at once, it just made sense.

What is family? They were the people who claimed you. In good, in bad, in parts or in whole, they were the ones who showed up, who stayed in there, regardless. It wasn’t just about blood relations or shared chromosomes, but something wider, bigger. Cora was right—we had many families over time. Our family of origin, the family we created, as well as the groups you moved through while all of this was happening: friends, lovers, sometimes even strangers. None of them were perfect, and we couldn’t expect them to be. You couldn’t make any one person your world. The trick was to take what each could give you and build a world from it.

So my true family was not just my mom, lost or found; my dad, gone from the start; and Cora, the only one who had really been there all along. It was Jamie, who took me in without question and gave me a future I once couldn’t even imagine; Olivia, who did question, but also gave me answers; Harriet, who, like me, believed she needed no one and discovered otherwise. And then there was Nate.

Nate, who was a friend to me before I even knew what a friend was. Who picked me up, literally, over and over again, and never asked for anything in return except for my word and my understanding. I’d given him one but not the other, because at the time I thought I couldn’t, and then proved myself right by doing exactly as my mother had, hurting to prevent from being hurt myself. Needing was so easy: it came naturally, like breathing. Being needed by someone else, though, that was the hard part. But as with giving help and accepting it, we had to do both to be made complete—like links overlapping to form a chain, or a lock finding the right key.

I pushed out my chair, and headed downstairs, through the kitchen and out into the yard. I knew this was crazy, but suddenly it seemed so crucial that I somehow tell Nate I was sorry, reach out to him and let him know that I was here.

When I got to the gate, I pulled it open, then peered in, looking for him. But it was Mr. Cross I saw a moment later, walking quickly through the living room, his phone to his ear. Immediately I stepped back, around the fence, hiding as he slid open the glass door and came out onto the patio.

“I told you, I’ve been out of town all day,” he was saying as he crossed by the pool, over to the garage. “He was supposed to be doing pickups and checkins. Did he come by and get the cleaning today?” He paused, letting out a breath. “Fine. I’ll keep looking for him. If you see him, tell him I want him home. Now. Understood?”

As he went back inside, all I could hear, other than my breathing, was the bubbling of the nearby pump, pushing the water in and out, in and out. I thought of Nate swimming laps that night, his dark shadow moving beneath the trees, how long it had been since I’d seen him alone in the pool.

Mr. Cross was inside now, still looking as his pace quickened, moving faster, back and forth. Watching him, I had a flash of Nate at school the last time I’d seen him, suddenly realizing why his expression—distant, distracted—had been so familiar. It was the same one on my mother’s face the last time I’d seen her, when I walked into a room and she turned, surprised.

And this was why, as Mr. Cross called his name again, I knew his searching was useless. There’s just something obvious about emptiness, even when you try to convince yourself otherwise. Nate was gone.





Chapter Eighteen


“Here,” Jamie said. “For luck.”

I watched him as he slid his car keys across the table toward me. “Really?” I said. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he replied. “It’s a big day. You shouldn’t have to start it on the bus.”

“Wow,” I said, slipping them into my pocket. “Thanks.”

He sat down across from me, pouring himself his usual heaping bowl of cereal, which he then drowned with milk. “So,” he said, “what’s your state of mind. Confident? Nervous? Zen?”

I made a face at him. “I’m fine,” I told him. “I just want to get it over with.”

His phone, which was on vibrate, suddenly buzzed, skipping itself sideways across the table. Jamie glanced at the caller ID and groaned. “Jesus,” he said, but answered anyway. Still, his voice was curt, not at all Jamie-like, as he said, “Yes?”

I pushed out my chair, taking my own bowl to the sink. As I passed him, I could hear a voice through the receiver, although the words were indistinguishable.

“Really,” Jamie said, and now he sounded concerned. “When was the last time you saw him? Oh. Okay, hold on, I’ll ask her.” He moved the phone away from his ear. “Hey, have you talked to Nate lately? His dad’s looking for him.”