Thirteen
JUNIOR YEAR
Bad luck or not, I don’t have a choice about going to my brothers’ next soccer game. It’s my parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary, and their friends offered them a stay in their time-share on Tybee Island for the weekend.
My mother was hesitant, but between Aaron’s new medication, his guitar lessons with Ben, and the heart-to-heart we sat him down for after the last game, we felt we’d covered the bases for getting through one weekend without incident. Plus Mrs. Milton, one of the other soccer moms, offered to let the boys sleep over on Friday night, so that I’d be alone with them only on Saturday before my parents come home on Sunday afternoon.
So far, night one is in the bag. I cheered at the football game, then went to the diner and slept at Meredith’s afterward. As I start my car in preparation for heading to the soccer field, I can’t help but think, How hard can this be?
The coaches are leading warm-up exercises when I arrive. I spot a silver-haired woman on the sidelines waving me over, sparing me the awkwardness of having to admit that I didn’t quite remember which one was Mrs. Milton. “How did they do last night?” I ask, taking a seat on the bleacher below hers. “Did they drive you crazy?”
“No. They were very well behaved. The boys can stay over anytime,” Mrs. Milton says warmly, and I wonder if she’s just being polite. They’re not bad kids, though Aaron has his moments. But they both have more energy than the sun, and it combusts often and much.
“My parents threatened to take away their comic books for two weeks if they weren’t angels. I guess it worked.”
“That would do the trick for me,” says a voice on the other side of me. I turn to find Ben taking a seat next to me on the bleacher. “So what did you try today? Real four-leaf clovers for breakfast?”
I point to my mother’s camera hanging around my neck. “I promised to pretend I’m shooting them for Sports Illustrated. And—” I hold up my arm to show him the gold charm dangling from my bracelet. “I broke out my grandmother’s good luck horn from Italy. We’re totally covered.”
Ben squints and leans closer. “What is that? A chili pepper?”
“It’s supposed to be an antelope horn. According to my grandmother, it wards off the evil eye. I normally never wear it. It makes me feel like I have a sperm dangling from my wrist.”
Mrs. Milton snorts, and I realize that probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say, especially since we’re on church grounds. I turn to Ben, giggling behind my hand.
“Like I said before,” he says. “Whatever works.”
And this time it actually does. I spend most of the game squatting on the sidelines snapping pictures, and maybe something about the fancy camera inspires the kids to play like professionals, because the Blue Dragons win the game by six points. My brothers are so excited that they run over to slap me sweaty high fives, and Aaron even gives me a hug. I text my mother a picture of the three of us with our grinning faces squished together as proof of how much ass I’m kicking at this babysitting gig.
One of the coaches brought a cooler full of ice cream bars, and I give the boys permission to eat theirs on the playground behind the church before we head home. Ben’s brother gets the okay from their mom to do the same, and Ben and I stroll together to where the boys are darting around as if they hadn’t spent the last hour in constant motion.
“So will you be at Mer’s working on the float today?” Ben asks.
“Yep. Will you?”
“I’m not so sure she wants me there.”
My face scrunches in confusion. “Ben, you know she does.”
“But does she want me there, or my magical hands?”
I snort-laugh. “Both.”
Ben pauses by a green-painted bench, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. His hands are restless at his sides. “Then what was up with her the other night? She acted so weird when Ken called us out at the diner.”
I tug at the hem of my shorts, not sure what to say. I was so preoccupied with the way Joel stormed off, I haven’t given much thought to Meredith’s reaction. “One too many public disagreements in a short period of time, I think. First with Jadie and then with Ken. And I’m sorry, by the way, that he was such an asswad. It took all my restraint to keep my fist out of his nasal cavity.”
Ben waves off the comment. “Davenport doesn’t bother me. I felt a lot worse for Jadie and Tyrell. But I have to wonder if maybe it’s not such a good idea for me to”—he shifts on his feet—“you know.”
“Ben, no. First of all, when you ask Meredith to homecoming, you don’t have to create some big, elaborate proposal for the whole school to see. I mean, you can if you want to, but she’d be happy with any way you asked her. And as far as the diner goes, I’m ninety-nine percent sure she was having an off night. I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“I’m trying not to, but it’s kind of hard. I feel like if this—if I—was something she really wanted, then she would’ve reacted . . .” He falters. “Not like that.”
He plunks down on the bench. I sit down next to him just in time to see it happen.
Aaron is paused on the catwalk at the top of the jungle gym, taking the last bites of his ice cream before another run down the spiral slide. Michael and two other boys come barreling up the steps at the speed of light, their footfalls clanging against the aluminum. They’re oblivious to everything except beating one another to the top.
Even though I can see what’s going to happen before it does, all I can do is shoot to my feet, my hands outstretched in useless horror as three bodies collide with one another and ram into Aaron. His limbs flail and he flies backward. Right through the opening in the safety rails, where there’s a gap for climbing up the fake rock wall.
It’s at least a six-foot drop. I watch him fall like I’m stuck in a dream, seeing everything in slow motion and knowing I’ll never get to him fast enough, because the bones in my legs have turned to lead.
When he lands, his head slams against the graying railroad ties that surround the play area, and he splays across the wood chips. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t move a muscle. All I can think is, My brother is dead.
Time starts to move again. I don’t even remember covering the distance between where Ben and I were sitting and where Aaron is lying, as I drop to his side, wood chips cutting into my knees and sticking to my skin. I scream his name, patting the sides of his face. I’ve seen and sustained enough sports-related injuries to know I shouldn’t move him, but his stillness is so terrifying that I can’t stop myself from squeezing his arms, his legs, his hands, trying to make him respond.
“Ethan, go get Mom!” Ben yells, grabbing his cell phone from his pocket. “Stay back, guys. I’m calling an ambulance.” He places himself between me and the other kids who’ve gathered behind me. I know without looking that the sobs I hear are coming from Michael.
They say your life flashes before you in times of crisis. But as I plead with Aaron’s motionless body, it’s scenes from Aaron’s life that surface in my mind like coins from the bottom of a wishing well. I remember how he and Michael were so small when they first came home from the hospital that they could both fit inside the same horseshoe-shaped opening of one Boppy pillow. I remember the way I totally dropped my jilted only-child attitude the first time Aaron fell asleep on my chest, and wishing that I could snuggle his little body like that forever. I recall the way he hugged me only a few minutes ago, even though he and Michael make fake retching sounds if our parents so much as hold hands in public. I haven’t asked for a hug in a long time because of it. Only now that I know there’s still a part of him that doesn’t mind me holding him close, I wish I’d asked more often.
Soon I’m surrounded by mothers and fathers and grandparents of kids on the soccer team. It’s a scary, isolating feeling to know that I’m all my brother has right now. But the thought flies to the back of my mind when Aaron’s eyelids start to flutter open.
“Hey. Hey, buddy,” I say, frantically patting his hand. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
“Macy?” The grogginess in his voice doesn’t disguise the pitch of terror. “I can’t see you.”
My heart drops into my stomach. “Look at me, buddy. I’m right here. Can you look at me?”
He doesn’t. His gaze stays somewhere over my shoulder, unfocused and vacant.
“I can’t see,” Aaron says again, his chin trembling. “Mom? Where’s Mommy?”
“Aaron,” his coach says, kneeling next to the railroad tie. “It’s Coach Harvey. Can you tell me where you are?”
“It huuuurts.”
He’s crying, and my mouth goes bone dry. “Why can’t he see?” I croak.
“He must’ve hit his head pretty hard.” I follow Coach’s eyes to the spot they keep darting down to. It’s only then that I notice the red stain on the gray wood beneath Aaron’s head.
Blood. A lot of it.
“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Coach Harvey says as my own head starts to swim. “We’re gonna take you to the hospital and get you fixed up in no time.”
“Macy,” Ben says, kneeling down next to me and putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “My mom is calling your parents. Give me your keys so you can ride in the ambulance with your brother, and I’ll drive your car to the hospital. I’ll take your camera, too. Mrs. Milton is going to bring Michael home with her.”
Michael immediately shrieks in loud protest, and several of the adults rush to reassure him as the wail of sirens draws closer. I look at Ben, and he nods calmly at me. It’s a small, simple gesture, but it’s achingly genuine. When I realize that his is the only face not pinched into a mask of barely disguised panic, it makes me wish I didn’t have to look anywhere else. Knowing he’s calm makes me feel grounded.
When he touches my shoulder and says, “Everything’s gonna be okay,” I almost believe it.
* * *
When I was younger, I was really into soap operas. Well, my mother was really into soap operas, and by default, so was I. Every summer, activities and outings came to a grinding halt at noon so we could glue ourselves to the screen, because God forbid if someone else knew what happened before we did. And I don’t know why, but all I can think as I’m standing behind a glass window, chewing at my cuticles as Aaron disappears into a CAT scan machine on the other side, is how infuriatingly inaccurate soap opera hospital scenes are.
On TV, there’s no waiting. You never see anyone filling out piles of paperwork, or frantically trying to find a spot in the ER with enough cell service to let them take down insurance info from worried-sick parents who are running stoplights to get home. They’d never show someone struggling to hold down the contents of their own stomach while stuck in a room with only a thin blue curtain separating them from the girl vomiting violently on the other side. And the patients? They always look like they’re sleeping peacefully, their hair glossy and styled despite being unwashed and mashed against a pillow.
My poor brother looks like he’s been through a war.
“What a crock of shit,” I murmur under my breath. It’s not until Ben appears at my side that I even realize I said it out loud.
“What’s wrong?” he says. “Did Aaron wake up?”
I hadn’t realized, possibly another result of too much TV, that it was okay for Aaron to fall asleep while we waited. I kept poking and pinching him to keep him awake, even after he landed a nice wallop to the side of my head. But then one of the doctors gave me the thumbs-up to let him drift off and assured me that irritability came with the territory of head injuries.
“No. He’s still passed out.” He barely stirred when they came to collect him for the CAT scan, but his movement was enough to keep the nurses from being too concerned with his lack of consciousness. I rub at my eyes, which are burning with their own exhaustion. “But it’s times like these when it would be really nice if the rest of my relatives didn’t live seven hundred miles away.”
“I know. But I’m here.” He holds up a white Styrofoam cup. “And I brought you some tea.”
I reach gratefully for the cup. “God, thank you so much.”
Ben looks sheepish as I take a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. “It’s not Mugsy’s, but I thought it would do in a pinch.”
“How did you know I like Mugsy’s?”
“I’ve seen you come into school holding their cups.” His eyes widen. “Wow, way to sound like a creeper, Ben.”
I smile. “Not at all. Do you like their coffee? I’ll bring one for you the next time I stop before school. Or maybe we can do a study date, my treat. It’s the least I can do.” He’s been amazing today. But I don’t trust myself not to choke up if I tell him, so I take a purposeful sip of tea before adding, “Can I ask one more favor?” I motion to the sign on the wall that shows a cell phone with an X over it. “Can you go call Meredith and let her know what’s going on?”
“Good idea. Don’t want her thinking we skipped out on her.”
“No, Ben, you go. I really appreciate you being here, but you and Coach Harvey have given up enough of your day. Please let him drive you home. There’s nothing that either of you can do.”
“I told you, we’ll head off as soon as your parents get back. I’m not gonna leave you here alone.”
He means it. Coach Harvey, on the other hand, has to get to his daughter’s birthday party. He gives me his cell phone number before he leaves so I can update him with the results of Aaron’s scan when we have them. Ben waits with me until my parents arrive, and while it certainly feels like I’ve been at the hospital for an eternity, I’m pretty sure they had to break the time-space continuum in order to get there as quickly as they did.
My mother is sobbing and my father is the same washed-out color as the hospital walls when I run into their arms in the hallway. They look like a cyclone swooped them up off the beach and transported them here, Mom still smelling faintly of sunblock and Dad wearing a T-shirt that doesn’t match his swim trunks. I can only imagine the state of their suitcase.
“Is he okay?” Mom sniffles, swiping at her tears and the stray strands of dark hair falling in her face.
“He will be, Mom.” I make an attempt to smile, but I’m so drained that the result is pretty pathetic.
“Oh, Macy.” Mom squeezes my shoulders. “You look exhausted. Have you eaten anything?”
I motion to Ben, who’s leaning against the wall a few feet away. “Ben got me some peanuts from the vending machine.”
My mother sidesteps me and envelops Ben in a crushing hug.
“Thank you so much for staying with them,” Mom whimpers. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here.” Ben looks like he has no idea where to put his hands, and I almost giggle at the relief on his face when she releases him and turns to me. “You two go home and get some food and some rest. We’re here now, and we’ll call you as soon as we know something.”
I protest, but between the heaviness of my limbs and the insistent grumbles of my stomach reminding me that I’m running on fumes, I let her convince me. But not before I make both of my parents swear that someone will call me the second they have any kind of news.
“Meredith wants you to text her,” Ben says as the elevator doors close. “She’s really worried.”
I take out my phone and pound out a message:
LEAVING THE HOSPITAL NOW. PARENTS ARE WITH AARON. WAITING ON CAT SCAN RESULTS.
She answers before we even reach the lobby: I’LL KICK THE GIRLS OUT EARLY. BE THERE SOON AS I CAN.
I write back: I’LL LEAVE THE DOOR UNLOCKED.
The elevator doors part, and I’ve taken only a few steps when I stop short. I must be more tired than I thought, because why else would I hallucinate Joel Hargrove, wearing black dress pants and a white button-down shirt, at the hospital on a Saturday afternoon, leaving the coffee shop across the hall with a black-lidded Styrofoam cup in hand?
“Hey, Joel,” Ben calls. Okay. So this actually is happening. “How’s your brother doing?”
Of course. I forgot that Peyton is here for his tune-up. We meet in the carpeted space between the elevators and the coffee shop, and the stress of the morning doesn’t grant my nervous system one bit of immunity against how hot Joel looks right now.
“He’s good,” Joel says as he and Ben exchange a bro handshake. “Going home tomorrow.” His eyebrows draw together. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Macy’s brother took a bad spill at the playground,” Ben answers, and I’m grateful that he seems to sense how useless I am right now. “I was about to drive her home. Did you need a ride?”
“Thanks, but I’m waiting for my mom to switch with me. She’s taking Peyton duty when she gets off work, and then I have to go clock in. She got me a job busing tables at the club where she works. Hence the penguin duds.” He runs his hand over the pleated button plate of his shirt and flashes a megawatt grin. A rush of heat races up my neck in response.
My hand flies to my throat, though if I’m trying to draw attention away from the splotchy colors my skin is turning, playing with my necklace probably isn’t the smartest move.
Not that it matters, because my locket is gone.
I gasp when my hand comes in contact with bare skin instead of a rounded silver heart. The warmth that already flooded my face intensifies as I touch my throat and chest, hoping that I’m somehow wrong. But when I look down, a nervous prickle of sweat breaks out over my skin. There, stuck between the V-neck of my shirt and the tank top underneath, is a messy pile of thin silver links.
“Oh no.” The words escape in a panicked moan as I pull the delicate strand free from my clothes. The pendant containing my brothers’ picture is nowhere to be seen. “My necklace.”
“You lost your necklace?” Ben says, alarm rising in his voice as my face threatens to crumple. But then he’s as resolute as he was on the playground. He places a firm but gentle hand on my arm and says, “Don’t worry. We’ll find it. Let’s retrace our steps, and if it’s not here, we’ll go back to the soccer field before I bring you home. Okay?”
I shake my head. “I still had it in the ambulance,” I whimper. “I kept trying to make Aaron focus on it.”
“All right, we’ll divide and conquer instead,” Joel cuts in. “I’ll walk the hospital with Macy, and Ben can ask around the ER.”
“Perfect,” Ben says, already jogging toward the emergency room. “Call or text me if you find it, and I’ll do the same. We’ll meet back here.”
As many times as I’ve thought about getting Joel alone, I did not imagine it like this. I’m red and sweaty and on the brink of tears, and as we revisit every step I took since leaving the ER, I’m grateful that we’re too busy staring at the floor to do much talking. I don’t think I could be witty or flirtatious right now if someone offered me an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii.
Aaron must have been moved to a different part of the hospital, because my parents aren’t in the CAT scan waiting room when we get there. Neither is my necklace. My dread increases as we run out of places to look. And when we get back in the elevator empty-handed, I feel like I let my brothers down all over again.
“It’s not your fault, Macy,” Joel says, putting a tentative hand on my shoulder. “But I know how you feel. The last time my dad got deployed, he gave me and my brothers each something of his to hold on to while he was gone. So Peyton had to be about four years old then, and he got my dad’s watch. Mom told him he couldn’t wear it out of the house, but I let him sneak it out to a carnival one night. We never saw it again. Poor kid cried for weeks, and I felt like absolute shit.”
“That’s so sad.”
“I know. I ended up handing off what my dad had given me, to make up for it.”
“What was it?”
“Oh. Uh, my grandfather’s wedding ring. My father wore it on a chain around his neck.”
I touch the bare spot on my chest again. “Guess we both lost our necklaces.”
“I didn’t mind getting rid of mine.”
And then it happens. All the emotions I switched off earlier slam into me full force as I realize I’m going home without my necklace or my brother. I was levelheaded and strong for as long as everyone needed me to be. Now that no one needs that, it isn’t even an option.
When Joel realizes I’m crying, he looks mortified. “I’m sorry,” he says, leading me out of the elevator by my hand. “That was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.”
To my surprise, he pulls me into a hug. In the back of my mind, I pray that my deodorant is strong enough for what I’ve put it through today. It’s bad enough that I’m bawling in front of him, but doing it crushed against his body isn’t helping the frantic rate of my pulse.
Joel envelops me tighter in his arms, and the way he’s holding me makes the panic subside. He rests his cheek against my hair, rocking me gently. When I press my hand against his back, he sighs. I put my arms around him and hold fast. His body relaxes into mine.
It’s almost like he needs this as much as I do.