Little Do We Know(90)

“How much are we going to miss this room?” Tyler asked.

I took it to mean the room and the people in it. Based on our answers, we all did.

“Every day,” Charlotte said.

“Constantly,” I added.

“I can’t even think about it,” Tyler said.





I missed my rock.

As soon as I got home from school on Wednesday, I went straight to my room, changed into my running clothes, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and sat on the edge of my bed, lacing up my running shoes.

My music was loud as I turned onto the sidewalk and ran to the intersection. The light was already green, so I ran across the street and headed straight up Foothill Drive. When it hit the trail, I focused on that wooden sign and pressed toward it.

At the top, I turned right and kept going, following the bends and curves of the narrow path until I reached my boulder three miles later. I slowed to a walk and shook out my arms, cooling off and catching my breath.

It was quiet up there. I crossed my legs, breathed in deeply, and I let my eyes fall shut. I just listened.

I could hear the birds chirping from their nests in the nearby trees, and the faraway whoosh of the traffic at the bottom of the hill. I could smell the flowers blooming below me and the sharp tinge of new grass. I could feel the crisp, early April air, and as I breathed it in, I pictured it traveling into my body and all the way through me—down to my toes and into my fingertips and through every strand of hair on my head. I sat there like that for a long time.

I was getting better at meditating. I’d see the thoughts pass through my mind, recognize them, and let them drift right out again. Each time, it felt a little less like work. It took less effort to find stillness and hold it.

I wasn’t sure how much time went by—ten minutes, twenty, thirty—it didn’t matter. I was lost in my own peaceful little world, when my phone buzzed.

I opened my eyes and read the message.

Luke: I miss you.

I smiled at the screen as I typed.

Hannah: I miss you, too.

Luke: Can we talk?

Hannah: Anytime.

Luke: How’s now?

Luke: I’m sitting here with Emory. We have a plan for tomorrow, but we need your help to pull it off. You in?

My body didn’t seem to know whether to smile or cry. I was doing both as I typed my reply.

Hannah: Where are you?

Luke: Diner

I stood and started down the rock. When I landed at the bottom, I typed, On my way.





On Friday after school, Luke and I went straight to my house and found Mom out of bed, buzzing around. She said she’d been to the gym, and when I asked her about work, she said her catering clients were all lined up for the following week.

She’d cleaned the house, top to bottom. Key pieces of the last year of our lives seemed to be missing, or at least hidden. Her wedding binder wasn’t on the dining-room table like it usually was. There was no sign of the box we’d been using to keep the extra invitations and all the RSVP cards that had been arriving. The photo of her and David on the day he fake-proposed had been removed from the mantel. She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring.

“I’m glad you’re both here. I could use your help with a few things.” She was all business. “I’ve got two storage boxes full of David’s things in my bedroom, and another box I need help putting up in the rafters in the garage.”

“Luke isn’t allowed to carry anything yet. The internal stitches are still healing.”

“I can carry some things,” Luke said with a fake pout.

“Nope,” Mom said. “Have a seat. We’ve got it.”

“Fine,” Luke said as he collapsed on the couch. “I’ll just be here. Feeling useless.” He pulled out his phone to keep himself busy.

All day, I’d been dreading walking through the front door, but seeing Mom up and around had me feeling better already. I followed her to her room, and together, we carried everything out to the garage. I didn’t ask her what was in the boxes bound for the rafters, but I had a feeling I knew.

“I take it you talked to him?” I asked her as I set up the ladder.

She handed me the box. “No. I wanted to do it in person. He’s coming straight from the airport, and he should be here in an hour. You and Luke need to leave, okay?”

No. Luke and I had already talked it through. “We’ll stay in my room, out of sight.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t think you should be alone when you tell him.”

She let out a huff. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. He’ll come over, I’ll tell him the wedding is off and why. I’ll tell him he’s damn lucky I’m not pressing charges. And then I’ll give him his things and walk him out to his car.” She steadied the ladder as I climbed back down. “And then, after he’s gone, I’ll have a complete breakdown—which I’ve scheduled to begin tonight and end on Sunday, so please don’t freak out—and when it’s over, that will be the end of it. I will move on. I will be fine.”

“I still think I should be here,” I said as my feet hit the floor.

She brought her hands to her hips. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to see him tonight. I don’t want you to see him ever again.”