Dylan
“Zo, you here?” I tap my knuckles against her partially open door. She doesn’t answer, so I push the door open a little further, wondering if she fell asleep.
I spot her lying in bed with one of her pillows over her face. From the sound of her muffled growls, she’s not having a good day.
Careful not to scare her, I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for her to finish her fit.
When she comes up for air, she screams and scrambles so fast, she falls out of bed. “Dylan, shit. How long have you been sitting there?” she asks as she rubs her head, making her hair full of static.
“Long enough to know you’re not okay.” Now that I can see her face, her lids are puffy and her eyes are red. I hate when she cries all alone. “Is your head okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says as I help her off the floor.
Zoe’s independent, always has been, and she can handle just about anything, including her pushy sister. For her to be reduced to tears, something bad must have happened.
I’m reminded of the first time I found her crying—the day her mom died. We were barely sixteen years old, and that day changed everything.
Zoe sat in the corner of her room, surrounded by her mom’s favorite blanket. She curled into a tighter ball and sobbed into the quilt. Months of pain poured out of her, and while her mom lost the battle that day, Zoe’s was only beginning.
So broken and lost, I wanted to pick her up and carry her to my house. “Zoe,” I whispered as I crouched in front of her. I was afraid to speak too loud or too fast, and I approached with caution. “Look at me, Zo,” I told her when she didn’t lift her head.
She heard my voice, I could tell because her grip tightened on the blanket. Like she thought I’d take it from her, she hung on with every ounce of strength she had left.
I heard the first piece of china break, followed by yelling that was shrill enough to shatter a window. Keely was only getting started. She didn’t cry, she threw shit until she got it out of her system. Zoe didn’t need to hear that, and I did what I felt was best.
I slid my arms underneath her until she was cradled in my arms. She didn’t utter a single protest. She let me carry her wherever I wanted, and in that moment, I had to get her out of that house.
It was at least eighty degrees outside, but I carried her across the street wrapped in the blanket. She hadn’t been eating much, and I swear she weighed even less than the day before.
We knew it was coming, but no matter how we planned, nothing could have prepared us for the emptiness that filled her soul.
Mom watched me carry Zoe through the front door and to my room where I laid her on the bed. Being out of the house made it easier to breathe, and Zoe opened her eyes. “Thank you,” she said as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
I spent so much time at the Allens’, I felt lost, too. But it was my job to put Zoe back together. She was my best friend. “You can stay as long as you want.”
“I don’t want to go home, Dylan, please,” she begged. “I feel Mom everywhere. Everything I look at, there’s a story about her. It hurts too much.”
“I’m not leaving you, Zo.” I reached for her hand. She linked her fingers with mine and I swore she sighed. “You can stay here as long as you want.”
Mom stood at the door and watched us as tears slid down her cheeks. Mrs. Allen was one of her best friends, and it killed her to see Zoe so broken.
When I reach for her hand, she does the same thing she did that day, and links her fingers with mine. “What happened, Zo?”
She picks up a piece of paper and hands me a letter. After scanning it from top to bottom, I realize the problem. “We knew you couldn’t stay in the dorms forever, right?”
She nods, agreeing with me. “It’s just stupid. How can they throw me out?”
“They’re not throwing you out. They’re just making you move into graduate program housing.”
She exhales a shaky breath. “The three-times-as-expensive housing. I can’t afford it. Nobody can afford it.”
Her dad would gladly cover the cost, but Zoe won’t let him pay for school. She said it wasn’t his fault he had twins and he shouldn’t have to drown in debt the rest of his life. I think it boils down to the fact that she saw her mom leave this earth too early, and she doesn’t want her dad to work until his last day like she did. She wants him to have a long retirement with money to do the things he’s never gotten to do. “We’ll figure it out.”
“For once I wish Keely was going to grad school with me. I’d suck it up and share a place with her.”
Zoe fights the twin connection, but they still have it—that unbreakable bond. “I thought you were looking forward to some independence?”
“I guess I was holding out hope that the housing department would take pity on me and change the policy. My letter was so persuasive.”
“You wrote a letter?” Leave it to Zoe to cover all her bases. I bet there was even a pros and cons list. She’s famous for coming up with those to weigh options and prove her most spectacular points.
“Of course I did,” she tells me with a hint of a smile. “But it was for nothing.”
“You tried, Zo. That’s all you can do.”
“I know,” she says.
The silence that fills the room isn’t awkward, it’s never like that with us, but I still sweat. The thoughts swirling around in my head will freak her out. At best, she’ll throw her pillow in my face and tell me I’m crazy.
“What if . . .” I say on a whim. “You could always move in with me.”
With wide eyes, she swallows. “I can’t do that, Dylan. Plus, you only have one bedroom. We can’t share a bed for the next two years.”
We could share a bed, but that’s not what I had in mind. I knew she’d never go for that. “I’ll buy a pullout couch and sleep there.”
Her eyes soften when she realizes I’m taking this seriously. “You love your place and worked hard to get it. I can’t ask you to sleep on a couch.”
“Then I’ll move someplace with two bedrooms and you’ll have a room all to yourself.”
She takes the letter from me and folds it back up. Once it’s back in the envelope, she says, “That’s too much trouble. And more money than we have.”
“But you’d do it for the right price?”
“I dunno,” she says. “Maybe, but it’s a moot point because it’s not possible to find a bigger apartment that costs less than what you pay now.”
That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll make it happen.
She grabs a piece of chocolate from under the blanket and I laugh as she pops it into her mouth. “What else is hiding under there?”
“Just two candy bars. I have a stash for bad days.”
Zoe’s already had her fair share of bad days. She doesn’t need more. “You’ll figure it out, Zo. You always do,” I tell her, even though I’m the one who’s going to do all the figuring.
“I’m just pissed.” Her voice cracks. No matter how composed she’s trying to stay in front of me, she’s overwhelmed and freaking out.
But she won’t be once we’re roommates. If she fights me on it, I’ll make her write me a letter.
And then I’ll write one back with all the reasons why she’s wrong.
I found my grand gesture.