The Accidentals(81)

There are still ten minutes left of the class, but I swing my bag onto my shoulder and slip out. Usually I have lunch with Aurora after this class, but I don’t feel like talking to anyone.

Walking back to Habernacker, the flagstone pathways are slicked from a spring shower, and the air is cool and moist. But in my mind, I’m back in my mother’s hospital room. For the first time in months, I let those memories come. The first few days in the hospital, she was still mostly conscious. Whenever the doctor came in to talk to us, I would try hard to absorb the things he said about new antibiotics and bringing down her fever. But Mom never seemed to listen. Her eyes never left my face.

I think she knew.

There was nothing to do but wait and hope, and hold Haze’s hand. Every few hours, he would drag me down to the cafeteria and beg me to eat something. His presence was a real comfort. And now even that link to my old life has been shattered by misunderstanding and regret.

I climb the stairs to my room. In my desk, I find a clean sheet of paper and an envelope. Even if my mother and I are never going to have another conversation, there’s one I can have before it’s too late.

It takes me a long time to come up with the right words.

Dear Haze,

I know it’s been months, but I’m still upset about fighting with you. I’ve wanted to say so for a long time, but I couldn’t figure out how. I still can’t. You made me feel so caught. Because I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be.

I loved you as a friend. But you pushed me into more when I wasn’t ready. If there was a better way for me to get that across, I missed it. And for that I’m sorry.

But I won’t ever forget that you helped me survive last year. I love you, Haze. Even if it’s not the way you hoped.

Rachel





It’s a small thing, but I feel better for saying it. I put his name on the envelope, and write out his address from memory. Then I go off to buy a stamp.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





A few days later, when the weather decides to take one more crack at being chilly, I watch my father approach the intersection where we’ve agreed to meet.

I’d almost made an excuse to blow him off, because I’m still feeling so blue. He’ll probably be able to read it off my face, and I don’t feel like explaining. But I haven’t seen him in a while, and if I blow him off, he’d probably just call me again tomorrow.

In my back pocket, I’ve stashed one of the photographs I’d found of Frederick and my mother. But I haven’t figured out what question I want to ask yet.

My mother spent seventeen years not talking about what happened. Hopefully it won’t take me the same length of time to ask.

As he reaches the corner, he gives me a little wave. Yet he’s missed the light, and traffic begins to stream between us. I rub my hands together against the cold and wait.

“Hey!”

I turn and smile at the sound of Jake’s voice, the way a flower turns toward the sun. Instinctually.

“I was just missing you,” he says. “Terribly. And you appeared.” He takes my cold hands into his.

I open my mouth to say something, but Jake is quicker. He leans in and kisses me on the lips. It’s been over two weeks since our awful talk, and there’s a whole lot of yearning in that kiss. The only thing keeping me from absolutely melting onto Jake is the fact that my father is probably watching from across the street.

I hear the traffic slow. I take a half step backward, but too late.

“Hands off, buster,” my father’s voice says.

Jake startles and pulls away.

“Dad!” I gasp.

“But isn’t that my line? Did I not deliver it well?”

I feel my face redden. Across from me, Jake looks beaten. Interrupted again.

The timing is awful, but it has to be done. “Well, Frederick, this is Jake. Jake, meet my father.”

Finally.

They shake hands. There’s a silence while I wonder what I should say next.

“So, we walk?” Frederick prompts.

“Where are you headed?” I ask Jake.

“The gym.”

“Walk with us,” Frederick says. He turns toward the main part of campus.

Jake raises his eyebrows at me, and I give him a tiny nod.

“Sure,” he says.

“What do you think, Rachel?” Frederick asks. “The pond? The hill?”

“Your pick.”

“There’s one more option,” Jake says, his eyes on me. “Do you want to climb the bell tower?” He points up at the white spire rising over the library building.

“You can do that?” I ask.

“Only if you happen to have a key,” Jake says. “Which you might, say, if you took it off your asshat brother’s keyring while he was passed out over the holidays.”

Frederick laughs. “Excellent. Let’s go break a few rules. That’s all I ever did in school.”

“During reunion week,” Jake explains as we cross the quad, “there’s a tower tour. But other times it’s off limits.” Jake stops. “Rach, is this okay? I know you don’t like to break rules.”

He’s right, of course. But I think I’ve been looking at the whole good girl thing wrong. I need to trust my gut more and worry less. “Let’s do it.”