See You at Harry's(43)

I wait and wait for him to answer somehow. To feel something. But the room is still.

Under Charlie’s bed, I see a bunch of stuffed animals, some stray plastic dinosaurs, and a few board books he outgrew. Most of them have chew marks at the corners. I used to hate reading those to him because they were usually either wet or sticky. I reach for one and pull it out. It’s Big Red Barn, one of his favorites. I open it and look up at the urn again. Waiting to feel something.

I begin to whisper the familiar first sentence.

As I read, I remember Charlie next to me, finishing each line.

Cat, he’d whisper, pointing.

I pause as I read, waiting for his voice to fill the silence.

I imagine him leaning against my arm, reaching for my ear.

And when I finish, I wait for what always comes next.

Again.

I hold the book to my chest and breathe and breathe what I can of his room and its memories. Then I get up and make Charlie’s bed. I set some of the stuffed animals on it. Just his favorites. I put the book on his pillow. When I turn to leave, I see my mom standing in the doorway.

I jump back and almost fall on the bed.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says. “I — I saw the light on.”

She stays in the doorway. She has her shawl on over her nightgown. She looks even less like my mom standing there in the shadows, all sunken in on herself. As if she really is slowly disappearing.

“I was just . . .” But I don’t know what to say.

Her hands shake as she fiddles with a loose piece of yarn on her shawl. “I heard,” she says. “He loved that book.”

She puts one foot into the room, moving into the light, as if she is finally going to come over and comfort me. But she pauses, as if she isn’t sure she can.

Because she blames me. I know she does.

“He just ran away from me,” I say. “I tried to catch up, but he was too fast.”

“I know,” she says.

“But you can’t even look at me. You blame me. I know you do.”

“No, Fern.”

“Yes, you do! You haven’t even touched me since it happened. You can’t!”

“No.”

“You know it’s true!”

“No. Oh, honey, No. Come here.” She steps back into the dark hall, as if she doesn’t want me to see her up close in the light. See just how much the pain has changed her. But I already have.

Slowly, I go to her, even though I’m afraid.

In the hallway, it’s shadow-dark except for the Snoopy night-light.

“I want you to be my mom,” I tell her quietly. “I just want you to love me again.”

“Oh, Fern.” She takes my hand and pulls me close. “I do love you. Always.” She holds me against her chest and rocks me back and forth. It feels so strange at first. She doesn’t smell like I remember. And my face doesn’t reach the part of her body it used to when she would hold me like this. I know it’s because I’m bigger now, but to me it feels like she is smaller.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sorry.”

There are so many words I want to say back. I want to let it all out, the way I used to when I was little and she would hug me tight and I would tell her whatever was wrong, and she would rub and rub and rub my back in slow, strong circles and say it would all be OK.

All will be well.

“I need you,” I cry into her scratchy wool shawl. “I need you.” I squeeze my arms around her more tightly, waiting.

“I know, honey,” she says against the top of my head. “I know . . . I know,” while her own tears wet my hair. And finally her arms squeeze me back. “I’m here. I’m here now. Hush, now. I’m here.”





IN THE MORNING, my dad makes us chocolate-chip pancakes. They don’t taste right, but I force them down. Then he reminds Holden and me that we have to go back to school. I think he’s convinced that the sooner we all go back to our normal routine, the sooner we’ll get back to normal ourselves. But he must know deep down this will never happen. We will never be normal again.

On the way to school, I sit in my usual place alone in the backseat and stare out the window. Holden sits up front with my dad. When we get to school, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“OK, you two. I know you don’t want to be here, but you can’t stay out forever. Call me if it’s too much and I’ll come get you right away.”

“It’s too much,” Holden says.

“It is,” I agree.

My dad nods. But he doesn’t offer to take us back home.

Holden sighs and gets out of the car. For the first time, he actually waits for me. Together, we walk toward the large entrance and step inside.

The first bell rings as we make our way down the busy hall. People look at us in the predictably I feel so sorry for you way, but no one says it out loud. When we get to my locker section, Holden stops. “You going to be OK?”

I shake my head. “You?”

“Probably not. I’ll meet you after school at the usual place.”

“OK.”

He joins the sea of people moving down the hall.

Ran and Cassie are waiting for me at my locker. They don’t ask if I’m OK. They don’t try to hug me. They just quietly wait for me to get my things and lead me to homeroom.