What Happens Now(83)

I think you’re amazing. Maybe someday I’ll be able to show you.

If you are in pain, let me see it. If you found this letter because you were thinking of using the things in the box, call me. Wherever you are or wherever I am, I will come.

Love,

Mom

I read the letter twice. Then I wept. Then I read it again.

My mother.

Dabbing alcohol on the cuts on my arms, then wrapping them gently with bandages and gauze. Not saying a word. Sitting with her knees at perfect right angles beneath the Disney Princesses poster in the waiting room of my pediatrician’s office. Putting her arm around me as I stepped out, taking the prescription note from my hand. Filling it and leaving it on my bed.

It was the only version of her I wanted to think about. It was the only one that existed, right then.

I knew I should do what she requested, but I couldn’t call her. Not yet. In the meantime, I took the box and walked it outside and stuffed the whole thing in the trash.

“Sorry I’ve had them so long,” I said to Kendall the next day, handing over a pair of black jeans with patches on the knees. I’d borrowed them months ago and forgotten until she asked for them back so she could take them on her trip. We were standing in my driveway while Kendall’s mom waited in the car. They had a day’s worth of errands and I was first on the list.

“No worries. I have stuff of yours, too.” She produced a plastic grocery bag tied at the handles.

I took it, and burst into tears. I’d been on a bit of a hair trigger since I’d found the letter.

“It’s not like I’m going away forever!” said Kendall. “I didn’t want you to want any of this while I was gone and then be mad at me!”

I moved toward our front porch so Kendall’s mom couldn’t hear me.

“It’s not that.” I paused, wiped my nose. “Camden broke up with me.”

Kendall came closer. “What? When?”

“A few days ago. He ran away to his mom’s in Vermont.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“I feel ashamed. I didn’t want to talk about it because that made it real.”

Kendall made a frustrated noise. “Ari. You have to talk about these things. And you have to talk to me about them. If we’re going to stay friends and you’re going to stay healthy, that has to happen. Understand?”

I nodded, almost crying again simply from the relief of being told what to do.

Kendall glanced back at her mom, who was drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

“We’ll continue this,” said Kendall.

I hugged the plastic bag of whatever-I’d-left-at-Kendall’s and nodded again.

Max came into the store the next day, when Richard was out.

“Hey,” he said as the door swung shut, then came over to hug me across the counter. When we drew apart, he asked, “How are you?”

“Terrible.”

“Let’s come back to that. How’s Kendall?”

“She’s busy getting ready for her trip,” I said, knowing that didn’t really answer what he was asking.

He shook his head and sighed. “That whole thing was my fault. I was so mad and not in control of . . . you know, whatever those things are that keep you from doing stupid shit.”

“She wouldn’t tell me the details. So it was you who kissed her first?”

Max blinked. “Yeah. What happened with you and Eliza . . . that’s on me.”

“It’s totally not.” I shook my head hard. “If it hadn’t been you and Kendall, there would have been some face-to-face drama between us eventually.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said sadly.

“My question about Kendall is, was that something you’d thought about doing before?”

“No. I’ve asked myself the same thing, and no.” A memory seemed to overtake him. “But there was something about that time we spent in the van. What we talked about. The place we were both in, mentally. I can’t explain it. Believe me, I wish I could. It would make my life so much easier right now—”

“You mean, with Eliza.”

“As we work things out.” He went over to the paint aisle, plucked the infamous paint set off the shelf. I couldn’t be sure if it was the exact same one or not. “I came in to buy this. For her. Maybe it’s a way to make things right for you, too. To show your parents we’re not all bad news.”

I took the box from him and started ringing it up. Then I found myself having to sniffle back tears.

“What’s wrong?” asked Max.

“I didn’t expect you guys to be the ones who stayed together.”

He laughed sadly. “You and me both.”

“But all those things you said to her that night were true.”

Max sat on the counter. I didn’t tell him not to. “Sometimes you feel like you can change someone,” he said half-dreamily. “You want to be the one who does it. You figure it’s worth trying.”

Yes. Now that I knew Eliza better, I could see why it would be worth trying.

“And sometimes,” I said, “you want a person to be the one to change you.”

Max sighed. I didn’t have to elaborate. I put the paint set in a gift bag and chose a silver ribbon to tie into a bow on the handles. Eliza would get the silver reference; it was the closest thing to communication that I could manage with her now, and possibly forever.