CHAPTER 41

Ruth

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I WAIT FOR LUCY to feel better before I confront Josh about my decision. I haven’t seen him since she came home.

I’m sitting on the steps of our apartment complex waiting for him. When he drives up, he smiles at me through the window of his VW Golf the way he did that first time I ever rode in his car. That smile, it makes it hard for me to stand.

Right now, in the shade of this Jacaranda canopy, the distance between him and me is all that’s left of us, of this time together before he knows it’s over.

“Hey,” he says as I open the door to our end.

“Hey.”

He kisses me, offhandedly, because I’m sure he expects there to be a thousand more, but I know better so I hold on to it. I relive the feeling of his kiss as he drives, trying to force myself to remember how soft and yielding his lips are against mine.

We park in our secret dead-end driveway spot. It’s oddly fitting for what I have to say.

“How’s your sister?” he asks.

I’ve missed him. I want to answer, but it feels better to just look at him. Right now, he’s still mine.

He reaches for my hand, his strong fingers holding my delicate bony knuckles so comfortably. Our palms fit together like they know each other.

“Uh oh. Is she okay? What happened?”

“She’s fine,” I answer mechanically. “Well, not fine, but she will be.”

“That’s good. You think you’ll stay over tonight or—”

“I can’t go to Boston with you.”

He stares at me like I’ve just slapped him in the face. Sunken brow, parted lips.

“Why?”

“She asked me to stay.”

“Wait, Lucy?” he shakes his head and pulls his hand away. “She’s just going to turn around and disappear again.”

“That’s why I have to stay. To make sure she doesn’t.”

He sighs with a hitch in his throat, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “Well, won’t she be with your mom? I don’t get it, I mean, do you just not want to go? Is this your way of—”

“No,” I interrupt. “No, trust me.” How could he think I didn’t want to go? “I love you. So much. It’s just...she’s my sister. I can’t just leave her when she asked me to stay. She needs me.”

“She needs you? She’s been awful to you. She hasn’t cared at all how she’s affected your life or your mom’s, and you’re just willing to give up everything with us because she asked you to?”

“She could have died, Josh. It’s easy for you to say ‘just forget about her’ but it’s a harder thing to do when you’re the one making the decision. What if something happens to her, and I’m not here? I’d never be able to live with myself. Besides, I can’t lose her. No matter how crazy she is, I love her.”

He studies the riveted texture of his steering wheel for too long. I don’t interrupt his silent thoughts. Instead, we sit together in our heartbreak, angry and thwarted, resisting the sad truth. We love each other. It should be easy. Isn’t love all you need?

“I’m sorry I’m angry,” he whispers. “I just want to be with you. I guess that’s selfish, but...I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

The understanding look in his eyes is what finally makes me cry. I swallow down the sting, and let the tears crawl down my cheeks.

“We have two weeks,” he says, reaching for my face. “Then we can talk on the phone. I’ll fly home a lot. Long distance can work.”

I nod, knowing better than to believe him. If we were adults, maybe, but I won’t let myself fall for that naïve dream. An attractive, smart, talented musician doesn’t go off to college and save himself for the girl back home. Or maybe he does, but I can’t let my heart hope for that.

I kiss him, and it makes it better, just for that tiny moment.

He convinces me to stay with him. That even if I have to be with Lucy over these next two weeks, we deserve one last real night together.

I agree. Mom’s with Lucy tonight, and Josh’s parents are used to ignoring us, so we lock ourselves in his room.

“You know I’m serious about this long distance thing,” he says.

We’re just lying in his bed together. In our clothes but under the covers. It seems like the only thing either of us wants to do after such a defeating conversation. Heartbreak isn’t the right word. It’s not just my heart, my whole body aches with sadness.

“We can give it a shot,” I say, curling into him. My head fits perfectly on his shoulder, and I close my eyes against the warm skin of his neck.

It feels impossible to let go, to live without this feeling. I find it hard to talk to people, to be “normal” in any social circumstance, and I finally found someone who not only likes to hang out with me, but loves me.

I must be insane. Is it awful of me to want to leave her? I know I can’t, but there is a part of me that hates her for it, yet loves her all the same. I keep taking her in, welcoming her into my world, hoping she’ll change. Over and over again I drag her through life, picking up the pieces. What if it’s never over? When will it be okay for me to let her fall, for me to walk on and not look back with regret?

Probably never, because I’ll always trust that one day she’ll fight her way out of this and I’ll have a sister worth it all. I can’t help it, that tiny seed of hope is planted in my heart, like a deep truth the world has yet to uncover.

“It might not be right now or in a few years, but one day I’m going to marry you,” he says, his breath warming my hair. “You’re the best I’ll ever do. You’re it, you know.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I have to. I need you to know it.”

I sigh, pushing away thoughts of forever love. “I don’t want you to go to college and not be able to be free. We can do the long distance thing, but if you fall in love with someone, or if I fall in love with someone (yeah right) either one of us just has to say the word. It’ll be that easy. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Why are you talking like that, like there’s no way it could work? You have to accept the possibility that we could be meant for each other.”

“Let’s make a deal,” I say, detaching myself from my feelings. “When we turn thirty-five, if we’re both single and have no kids, we’ll find each other.”

I’m far away when I say this, like he has already left, but his kiss pulls me back. We stop talking. There’s nothing more to say, but the feel of his moving lips on the dip above my collarbone speaks more than words.

I’ve already conceded to this moment, given myself permission to let it all in, just one last time. He pulls his shirt off. I take care of my own. There are no surprises as we undress, no pent up lust that sends us into a flurry of rough kissing and eager hands.

I know his body and he knows mine. The slow tender touch of skin on skin, of being closer than we’ve ever been but in other ways. It’s hands in hair and cheek to cheek. It’s tears in my ears as we’re wrapped up tight in each other. Upper thighs and strong arms. Deep breaths and gentle lips.

One day I’ll come back to this moment, like a dog-eared page in my favorite book.