In Sight of Stars(51)

“The work? No. I wouldn’t call it that. Hard. At times, frustrating. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve wished I had a magic wand.” I smile at that, and she knocks off her shoes, wiggles her red-painted toenails around. “But, depressing, no. The opposite of that.”

“Really?”

She puts her hand over mine, squeezes, then lets go. “We all need some help at one time or another, Klee, it’s as simple as that. No shame in needing it.” I nod, wondering if it can really be that simple. “Now, not trying to help?” she says after a pause. “I think that would depress me. Although life is not always easy, and, like I said, having a magic wand would be good.”

I turn and squint at her. “To be honest, sometimes it seems like you do.”

“Well, that is a compliment, isn’t it? So, thank you. That means a whole lot to me. But let’s hold that thought, see how I do at getting you out of here. And, anyway, I’d like to take vast amounts of credit, but the truth is, mostly all I do is listen. It’s amazing how listening helps. Or at any rate, it rarely makes anything worse.” She slips her shoes back on. “I’m okay with that. Not making anything worse.”

She seems like she’s going to get up, but then she changes her mind, spreads her arms out on the bench, tilts her head back, and closes her eyes.

“I love it out here. So very peaceful,” she says. “You know, Voltaire said, ‘The art of medicine consists in amusing the patient while nature cures the disease.’ I often think that’s true, that, for most people, time will cure what ails them.” She chuckles and sits up. “Or maybe I just want to believe that because it takes the pressure off of me.”

“Is there a ball for that? The Voltaire quote?”

“Ha, no,” she says, resting her head back again. “But there should be.”

I want to laugh, too, to trust that time and distance will heal things, but I’m thinking of Sarah, of my mother, of the party and Abbott, of all the humps I have to get over if I want to be well again.

*

After Valentine’s Day, things are better for a few weeks, but by March, Sarah has pulled back again.

“What’s the difference?” she says when I try to talk about it. “You’re leaving for Boston soon.”

“I can stay if you want me to, go to Pratt in the city instead.”

“Don’t say that, Klee! It’s ridiculous!”

“Sarah—”

“I swear! Don’t say it again.”

So, I try to hang on but not push her too hard, even when doing the first seems impossible without doing the second. But I have to. Sarah’s the only thing worth anything here in Northhollow.

In school, she’s constantly with her friends, casting me aside for Abbott and Dunn and a few of the girls they hang out with. I realize that, beyond their first names, I don’t really know them at all, haven’t made much of an effort. There’s probably no point in making one now. Less than three months left of school and I’m out of here. The city or Boston, pick one. I won’t stay here in fucking Northhollow. Maybe Sarah’s right. Maybe I do think I’m too good for here.

Still, I try to find balance. The few times I try to make plans with her, Sarah says she has plans already, but I’m welcome to come hang out with them.

Them.

It’s always felt like that, hasn’t it? Either just us or just them. I decide I’m going to try harder to fix it, for her sake. Which is what happens on Friday when I ask Sarah about her weekend plans.

I find her at her locker. Talking to Abbott.

Asshole.

I put my arm around her and make small talk, before finally asking what’s up for the weekend. Sarah flinches at my arm so I pull it back, worried I seem like a possessive douchebag.

“Hey,” I say, “listen. I have to work on my portfolio tonight. You want to head into the city tomorrow and walk the High Line?” I turn to Abbott now. “Hey, Keith, how about you get a date and come with?”

“Klee … he doesn’t want to—” She sounds mad. I don’t get it. I thought she would like that I invited him.

“No can do, Alden. No fancy museums for this dude. Besides, party at Dunn’s house tomorrow night. Didn’t you hear? We’re celebrating. Porter got accepted to Michigan. A D1 school and all that. It’s a big deal.” He smiles disingenuously. It makes my stomach roil. “It’s pretty huge news around here.”

“I hadn’t,” I say. “And the High Line isn’t a museum. It’s a park. A linear one. You know what linear is?” Sarah gives me a look. “Maybe a rain check, then.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Keith says. What he doesn’t do is reciprocate. What he doesn’t say is, “You should come to Dunn’s.”

Fine by me. I wouldn’t go if he asked. A little late to be making friends after all.

*

Dr. Alvarez stands. “Hold that thought. Let’s walk for a bit.” I look up, surprised. “We’ll walk and talk some more. Maybe we can find a spot to paint,” she adds.

I shoulder my backpack and get up. I’m sweating for some reason. I wipe my damp palms on my jeans.

“Okay, yeah, that’d be good,” I say. “That’d be better, I think.”