When We Collided(70)

“Tree?” I ask, surprised. Has Vivi been talking to him, too, about past lives?

Felix laughs. “Yeah. A rigid old tree like me—it snaps in a raging storm. The pliant tree bends in the rain and survives.”

We stand there for a few beats, and I’m frowning. Since I’m still not getting it, he claps me on the back before heading back to the kitchen. “You made us bend, Maní.”

I thank Mr. Thomas and help him carry his ladder back to his store. When I return to the outside of the restaurant, everyone’s gone back in, and it’s just me here.

But it’s not just me here. And that’s the point.



The sky is perfect blue on my way to see Vivi, and the long drive is good for me. My mind feels like an envelope that is too overstuffed to close. So I take some of the stuff out. I think about if my dad would like the restaurant changes, about how the party will go, about the things that might go wrong. I think about Vivi. About how hard the injuries and hospital stay must be for her. How I should be when I see her. If things will be different once she’s released.

None of these things feel good to think about. But it makes room in my brain.

I pause outside the hospital and take a few deep breaths. A lady at the front desk gives me a visitor’s badge. My hands shake a little as I buy some flowers at the gift shop. I should have thought of something clever. Something creative, like Vivi would have. I should have made her a black-cherry cobbler, like the first night she came over to my house. Should have, should have, should have. I’m sick of those words biting at my ankles no matter where I walk.

Once I’m outside her room, I can hear my own breathing. No other sound.

I step in. She’s propped up in bed, poking at a tray of globby preservatives that the hospital calls food. There’s a blue sling on her left arm. A bandage covers up part of her collarbone and sneaks under the hospital gown. Barefaced, she looks younger. I’m so relieved to see her moving around that I could drop to my knees in the doorway.

She glances up. I can see her lower lip trembling even from across the room.

“Jonah?” Her voice is shaky.

“Hey,” I say, stepping forward with a smile.

And Vivi, she recoils. “What the f*ck are you doing here?”

I blink, frozen. Okay. Not what I expected. Stay calm. Does she blame me for what happened? The plastic wrap around the flowers makes a crinkling noise as I tense up.

Her eyes flood with tears. “I could have killed you, Jonah. That night—you were on the Vespa with me. You should be furious with me. You should have my face on a dartboard. You shouldn’t be here. What is wrong with you?”

It takes what feels like five full minutes for me to understand. She blames herself for this? I step closer to her. I just want to touch her hand, to feel that she’s real and okay and here. “Nothing is wrong with me. God, Viv—I’m not mad. How could I be mad at you? I’m so sorry about what happened and that you got hurt.”

Her eyes widen, almost wild. “I don’t need your pity! Why would you even come here? Why?!”

I open my mouth to say something, but she cuts me off before I can begin. Tears dribble down her cheeks. This is going so wrong. So wrong.

“Get out.” She hurls an empty plastic cup at me, and I dodge it. Good God. “I can’t stand to look at you. GET OUT GET OUT!”

She stabs at the red button by her side, and it’s only seconds before a nurse hurries in. I’m covered in a cold sweat.

“Make him leave!” Vivi sobs. “Make him leave, please.”

“C’mon, son,” the nurse says, motioning for me. I follow into the hallway because I don’t know what else to do. I’m shell-shocked, guilt-ridden. The nurse shuts the door behind us. The stupid flowers are in my hand, and I just don’t understand. The nurse looks so sad. “I hope you won’t take it personally. The first few days are so volatile.”

“It’s all right,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.

At the nurses’ station, I leave the flowers and tell the woman at the desk to thank everyone for taking care of Vivi.

Vivi’s words stick with me long after I break back out into the daylight. Why would you even come here? she asked me. Why?

Because I’ve been having a hard time since before the day we met. She never walked away from me because of it. Her feelings for me weren’t contingent on how easy or hard it was to be in my life. She doesn’t have to be sunny for me. That’s not how it works.

At home, my siblings know better than to speak to me while I stir ingredients. I pound the dough onto the counter, pressing the rolling pin too hard. I ball it up, flatten it again.

It turns out like a picture. I’m covered in flour as I put it in a box from the restaurant. I press too hard on the paper as I write the note.

Why? Because you once told me you aren’t afraid of the dark places. I’m not, either, Viv. You know that. If I were, I think we both know I would have bailed on my family months ago.

You also told me to ask what people need and listen. This is me asking. I’m listening. In the meantime, here’s a pie in case that’s what you need. That hospital food looked disgusting.

—Jonah





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Vivi

“Jonah was over at our house last night.”