Underwater(41)

“Your grandma checked in today,” my mom says, looking at me. I can tell she’s trying to sound casual so Ben doesn’t pick up on any weird vibes.

“Any news?”

“Nothing.” My mom shakes her head. Tired. Resigned.

That means nobody has heard from my dad since he took off with his bag full of new clothes and my grandma’s jewelry.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” I say.

“Perhaps.”

*

After I’ve showered and read the mermaid book to Ben three times in a row, I crawl into my own bed. Outside, the front gate of Paradise Manor bangs shut. I can hear Evan. I recognize his voice. He’s talking on his phone in the courtyard. I peek out from my curtain just as he’s heading up the stairs in front of my bedroom window. I hadn’t realized he was that close. I freeze when he actually sees me. He stops, stunned, in the middle of the stairs to observe me through the window. We only make eye contact. Silent. I wave, and he waves back. Halfhearted. I let go of the curtain. It falls back into place, and Evan disappears behind it.





chapter thirty

Today, May twenty-third, is Ben’s birthday, so when Brenda arrives, I suggest we walk to the corner market to buy a cake mix and a tub of frosting with the money I still have saved up from teaching swim lessons. We’ve had two sessions since I told Brenda I gave Aaron a ride to school on October fifteenth, and she doesn’t stop to stare at me for even one second this afternoon when I say I want to leave Paradise Manor.

“Let’s go,” she says, so I follow her down the stairs and out the front gate.

The sidewalk seems less busy than when I mailed Aaron’s letter last week. Or less shocking. It just feels like I’m supposed to be walking here. The world is everywhere and it’s even better to be out in it with someone next to me. And even though I like Brenda, right now I kind of wish she were Evan. The thought surprises me. I’ve been trying not to think of him since he cut me out of his life.

“How are you feeling? We’ve had a lot to cover in our last sessions.”

I guess we’re going to walk and talk about things that matter as we go. I squint through the brightness of the afternoon to look at her, wishing I’d remembered my sunglasses.

“I feel good. Like I can breathe again.”

“How so?”

I spent the last two sessions telling Brenda everything about those fifteen minutes I drove in my car with Aaron. I told her about his bulky backpack and the way he smelled. I told her the things he said and the things I wished I could take back.

“Well, you know that saying about having the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

Brenda nods. The force of a Santa Ana wind whips past us, making my frizzy hair flat, and I brace myself against it.

“I didn’t really know what that meant until I felt that way.”

“And how do you feel now?”

I think for a minute. “This might sound really weird, but it makes me think of my team suit. For swimming. It’s tight. And sometimes it crushes my chest a little. Still, it’s the uniform and it makes me go faster and I’m required to wear it to compete. Yet sometimes, after a meet, it just feels so good to take it off.”

Brenda nods.

“Even though it’s off, there are still marks on my skin where the straps have dug in. Or I’m chafed under my armpits. So it almost feels like I’m still wearing it. I’m still kind of uncomfortable.”

“I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Will it get better?” My fingers flutter at my sides like an instantaneous reaction to that fear. “Like, what if I cross the street tomorrow and it’s one block too many? Will I freak out and have to start all over again?”

I should probably let Brenda know I left my apartment by myself last week, but that would mean telling her I wrote a letter to Aaron. She might not like that I wrote another letter and didn’t let her read it. I figured since Aaron is dead, it didn’t matter if I mailed it or not. I wrote it because I had to. I wrote it and it made me feel better. I mailed it because I wanted to let go.

“You’re testing boundaries,” Brenda says. “Your day-to-day is going to be less about overcoming and more about managing.”

She waits for me to punch the button for the crosswalk.

“Morgan, what you admitted—about giving Aaron a ride to school—that was profound. You need to process it. You need to fully work through the emotions of that. I can see that you’re trying. And I know how hard it is. But saying it out loud was important. Admitting it was a huge step. As long as you keep doing what you’re doing, you’re going to keep moving forward.”

There are people and cars all around us, but she doesn’t even seem to notice because she’s too busy making eye contact with me. She seems like she understands so much that it makes me wonder if there’s something she’s had to carry around her whole life, too.

“But maybe,” I say, “if I hadn’t given Aaron a ride to school, he wouldn’t have done what he did.”

Brenda stops in the middle of the sidewalk. “I want you to hear this because it’s important, got it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay that you gave Aaron a ride. The fact that you gave him a ride didn’t make a difference. He was going to get to school and do what he did whether you picked him up or not. Do you understand that?”