CHAPTER 30

Ruth

––––––––

THAT SUMMER, THE SUMMER of my senior year, I lose my sister entirely.

After graduation, I feel like a caged bird set free. It starts with a few late nights. Soon it’s every night. Josh and I are out after dark and I eventually stop coming home. My absence is different than Lucy’s. Mom knows where I am, that I’m safe. I call and check in, but other than that I let myself be wholly consumed by this new and exciting part of my life.

I’m not there to witness Lucy’s breaking point or to try and save her from herself. Instead I leave her. I walk away from her subtle pleas for help and let her drown in the urban sea of drugs and guns, checking in only often enough to make sure she’s alive. It’s the one thing in my life I regret—leaving her.

After the police raid I make a promise to myself to stay away. Everything she does makes me hate her more. She’s a blemish discoloring the pretty picture I’ve painted of my life. So, I pack my things and practically move in with Josh. His unbroken family welcomes me into their storybook home with love. They eat dinner at the table every night and talk about important things, like economics and politics. I nod, pretending I know enough to agree with them. Josh and I ignore his mother’s weak protests about us sharing a bed and do it anyway.

It’s easy to forget Lucy and all the trouble she brings, all the worry and screaming over what’s right and wrong. And it’s even easy to forget Mom, and all the pressure I feel to make her happy, to ensure she’s stable, that we have enough money to make it for the month, to be her tear-catching sponge on nights she feels alone.

In Josh’s world, I’m free.

The nights are ours. We drive aimlessly until we get tired and then make our way to “the view,” an unfinished dirt driveway that hides us along the hillside. Below, city lights stretch into the distance as if the sky has spilled a cup full of her stars into the sinking valley.

As we park I check my phone for an update. I say I hate my sister, but I can’t help but care. I need to know Lucy is okay. Mom says she’s been gone for two nights now without a word. I’m waiting to hear that she’s home.

“Anything?” Josh asks as he opens a bag of Skittles. Our pile of 7-Eleven loot is on my lap. I dig through it for a watermelon Jolly Rancher sucker, pretending I’m not a nervous wreck.

I shrug playing it off. “No. Whatever though. I don’t care.”

He opens the moon roof letting in the night air and reclines his seat.

“I’m not buying it,” he says through the crunch and chew of his candy. “I hate that she does this to you.”

His features are brightened only by the moon, but I don’t need light to picture his familiar face.

“Me too.” I shovel the candy pile into the center console and draw my knees in. “Okay, so I do care,” I finally admit. “Why? Why do I care so much? She treats my mom and I like shit. She doesn’t care about us. She does whatever she wants without consequence. Why can’t I just forget her and be done with it?”

“Because you’re not a bad person.”

“Well sometimes I feel like one. You know I hate her. I legitimately hate her. I just don’t hate her enough. There’s always this little piece of me that needs her to be okay.”

“It’s because even though you hate her, you love her, and it’s not a bad thing to love your sister.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You don’t know her well enough.”

“Yeah, screw it, who needs human decency or love, right?”

I crack a smile for the first time tonight, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. He sits up and pulls my sucker away, pressing his skittle-flavored lips into mine. I’m not expecting it, so I gasp just a little as my heart takes off. The sweet taste of his mouth is enough to push Lucy out of my mind. He runs a hand into my hair just at the nape of my neck and chills climb the bare skin of my arms. I breathe deeply as he lingers, savoring the sugary remnants of our candy kiss.

My phone chimes, and he puffs a quick sigh through his nose before pulling away. He’s not mad. I can tell by the gentle smile he gives me as he reaches for my phone and hands it to me.

I bite my lip, a little embarrassed as I check it.

It’s from Mom. My heart skips.

Nothing yet.

I show Josh and toss my phone in the cup holder.

“Did you call the police?” he asks.

“Yeah. They brush us off. I’m sure freaked out parents call all the time and then figure out their kid is at a friend’s house or whatever. They don’t take you seriously unless it’s been a really long time.”

“So maybe you shouldn’t be worried either.”

“I can’t help it. What if she dies or something horrible?”

He tucks his hands behind his head and leans back again to stare through the rectangular cut-out of sky. “She’s not going to die. And no matter how much you care, you can’t live her life for her. People have to make their own mistakes.”

I know he’s right so I don’t say anything. Instead I watch as he pulls a joint from his pocket and lights it. He doesn’t offer me any. He just holds in his hit. I’ve always refused and he knows I don’t smoke. But this time, as the pungent cloud floats up toward the stars, I envy its escape.

“I want some,” I say, fed up with life enough to feel reckless.

He squints at me with the hint of a smirk, judging my seriousness. “Really?”

I sit up straighter, a little nervous about what it will do to me. “Yeah. I mean, it can’t make me freak out right? I’m not going to start seeing goblins or anything?”

It takes him a good minute so stop his shallow breathy laughter. “No. No goblins. You’ll just feel relaxed.”

“Okay,” I agree as he sits up.

He hands me the joint and I press the soft paper to my lips. It’s harder to draw the smoke into my lungs than I expect so I pull too hard and take in too much smoke. It burns my throat and forces me into a violent coughing fit.

“Oh my God!” I complain through my struggle for breath. “That’s horrible.”

He laughs some more before lying back in his seat. My throat still stings, but I lean my seat back level with Josh and stare up at the stars through the open moon roof.

It only takes a moment for the feeling to hit me. It is relaxing, and dizzying in a good way. Josh leans over the center console and kisses me again. His mouth tastes like smoke and candy and feels like the best thing ever.

The Smashing Pumpkins sing a nasally pitch in the background, and the night sky chills my cheeks and nose. I stretch my bare feet onto the dash and press my toes into the cold glass, marveling at the smooth texture against my skin. And I don’t think of Lucy. Not once.

It really is a great summer. The best summer of my life, but I have no idea what I’m sacrificing for it. By the time I realize what my absence has done to my family, it’s too late. She’s already gone.