Chapter 16
Revamp my life
Wallow in self-pity
It was 62 degrees today in Copenhagen.
A nice, sunny, cool 62 degrees. At least that’s what my phone says.
October and fall.
I draw my knees up to my chest, nestled in my chair, and I stare out my bedroom window, thinking about him. Always thinking about him. How is his semester going? Has he started dating someone else? Did he ever stand up to his father about changing his major? They are things I don’t have any right to wonder, but I do.
There are moments when I’m feeling particularly loving and imagine he’s found someone kind. Someone worldly. Someone who notices those times when there is sadness in his gaze, someone who will do anything in her power to make it go away. Pretending is all I have.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Mom asks from the doorway, startling me. “All you do is sit in your room all day. I thought you were supposed to outgrow the moody teenager phase by twenty.”
It’s not the first time in the last couple months that she’s asked. And until I get out of this funk, I know it won’t be the last. I need to answer her, but all I can think about is that I’ve now been away from him three times as long as we were together. If it took only three weeks for me to fall in love, shouldn’t two months be enough time to fall out of love?
But it’s not.
I still dream about him at night. I still imagine returning to Copenhagen and telling him the truth. I still go through my pictures just to keep fresh the memories of my trip, the memories of him. Will I ever be able to let him go?
Mom sighs and steps into the room, the floorboards underfoot creaking with age. “Hope, what is wrong?”
Nothing much, I’m just a horrible person who lies, breaks hearts, and leaves people destroyed all over Europe. “I’m fine. Better than ever.”
She looks concerned, like always, and I realize that leaving for three weeks didn’t give her the much needed break I assumed it would. If anything, my absence only made things worse. I turn my face away so she can’t read my expression. So she doesn’t know the truth.
“Is it Matt? Did you fight? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
I pick up my blue throw pillow and hold it tight. Truth is I’ve barely thought about Matt. Other than the occasional email, we haven’t corresponded. I think he needs a break from me, as much as my family did. “No, Mom. Matt’s dating someone else, and I’m glad, truly. He deserves to be happy.”
She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t believe me. Fine, let her think I’m heartbroken over Matt. Better than the truth. A warm breeze rushes into the room, fluttering the curtains. This is how I wanted to die, I remember thinking that before I left for my trip months ago. In my bedroom, the ocean breeze whispering through the windows. It had seemed like the most peaceful way to go. Not now. Now that breeze feels stifling. The room makes me feel claustrophobic.
“You used to talk to me.”
No. I used to tell her what she wanted to hear. With a sigh, I finally look at her. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m happy to be home. Sitting in my room.”
For the next two to four years.
“Are you sick?” She rushes forward to press her palm to my forehead. “Should I call the doctor?”
I flinch away. “No, I’m not sick. I feel great. Besides, we’ll be seeing him this afternoon.”
And I do feel great…at least physically. My body has never felt stronger. I wake up alert, ready to go. But emotionally…mentally…
She crosses her arms. “You’ve been moping around here ever since you returned. Did something happen?”
She’s angry. I don’t blame her, but I don’t have the emotional fortitude to comfort her right now. It was easy to trick them the first few weeks. I talked about the sites, travel, showed pictures. But as the days went by, it was more and more difficult to keep up that pretense.
My thoughts, always, go back to him. Even now, two and a half months later, as I think about Christian my breath hitches, my chest grows tight. I press my hand to my heart. It hasn’t healed. Will it ever heal? “No. Nothing happened. It was wonderful.”
She doesn’t leave. Just continues to stand there…hovering. What the hell does she want from me? I wake every morning as the sun rises and walk the beach just to get rid of the energy vibrating in my cells. I’m getting stronger. I’ve filled out applications downtown for jobs. I’ve even sent out a few photographs to contests. I’m trying. What more does she want?
She moves to my bed and smooths down the covers. It’s a new blue duvet I bought the moment I got home. I gave my rose blanket to Beth. I wanted something adult. It wasn’t until I unpacked it that I realized it was the same color as his eyes. God, I’m pathetic.
“Anyway, I’m not here to annoy you.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She’s hurt, and now I have to feel guilty about that. “You’re not annoying me.”
“You have a visitor.”
I jerk my gaze toward her, torn between being intrigued and terrified. For one brief moment my heart stops. A visitor? Matt’s at school. Who? No. I don’t dare even think his name. Just as quickly as it stops, my heart jumps to life, stumbling over itself.
I swallow hard. “Who?”
Christian.
She shrugs and heads toward the door. “Some young woman. About your age.”
My disappointment is immediate. I clench my jaw, forcing back the sting of tears, and return my attention to the windows. Not Christian. It will never be Christian.
“She said you met in Denmark. Very nice, very pretty girl. Name is Gabrielle, I believe.”
“Gabrielle?” I jump to my feet and race by my mom. The tears I’ve been ignoring blur my vision. Gabrielle is my reminder of Denmark. Of happier times. My friend. The one person who knows, who understands. I practically trip down the stairs in my haste to get to her. “Gabby?”
“Hope!”
When I see her standing in my living room all the feelings I’ve been trying to keep buried burst to life. We throw our arms around each other, holding tight. The sting of tears is bittersweet. I can’t let them fall. If I start to cry, I know I won’t stop, and I don’t want to scare her off with my red, snotty, bawling face. Not when she’s all I have left.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice muffled against her hair. I swear she smells of Europe. Of culture and pastries and vanilla and everything good. “I can’t believe you’re in Florida!”
“Assignment. American cities that are most like Europe, and I got yours!” She laughs, that magical sound that I’ve missed so much. “Okay, maybe I forced them to give me St. Augustine. I told you I’d come visit!”
I pull back and smile. She’s the closest thing I have to Christian. The closest thing I have to that magical month. Seeing Gabby has brought me back to life. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. You have to stay with us.”
She shakes her head. “No, I couldn’t…”
“Of course,” my mom says, appearing on the stairs. She’s intrigued and beaming all at once. Beth stands shyly behind her. Even though I’ve kept in touch with them, I didn’t tell Mom or Beth about Gabby or Jessica because it was too painful. “We have a guest room.”
I almost laugh at my mom’s hopeful expression. She’s thrilled that I’m actually happy about something. Relieved I’ve left my bedroom. Hell, she’s probably already making plans to bribe Gabrielle into moving in with us.
Beth, meanwhile, hovers behind my mom, staring wide-eyed at Gabrielle. I know how she feels. Gabby is so big city, so cool. It’s in her very aura. “This is my sister, Beth.”
“Hi,” Beth whispers, blushing.
“She loves all things English, which means she’ll probably stalk you, if you let her know you have an English boyfriend.”
Beth’s blush deepens, but she doesn’t deny the accusation. It’s like Gabby has become our Horcrux. All of us are looking at her like she’s got the magical elixir to life. Once she’s gone, it’s back to the gray nothingness.
“Excellent! Stalk away.” Gabby laughs. She’s wearing a vintage t-shirt and tight, red jeans. “I’d love to stay here, but I actually have a hotel room. My boyfriend came along with me. Maybe next time.”
I’m disappointed, but don’t show it. If she only has to offer a few hours a day, I’ll take it. “Oh, that’s great!”
“You up for lunch?”
Other than my walks on the beach, I haven’t left the house in four days. For the first time since arriving home I’m actually eager to go somewhere. I slide my feet into my flip-flops. “Sure. There’s a great restaurant on the water not far from here.”
My mom hands me my phone and wallet, as if she’s been prepared, waiting for this day. Hell, if she’d known about Gabby, she probably would have called, paid for her flight here, and set this entire thing up. I’ve never seen her so happy to shove me out of the house. “Be back by one for your doctor appointment. Have fun!”
I don’t miss the way Gabby’s eyes cloud over when my mom mentions my doctor. Nothing better for ruining the day then the reminder that there’s a dead girl walking amongst us.
“What have you been up to?” she asks.
I shrug. “Applied to a few jobs.”
“That’s great!”
We move outside toward a small Toyota she’s rented. The air is so hot, humid, that I know it’s going to rain. One of those quick downpours that happen so often in the summer. It might be turning to fall in Europe, but here it’s still hot.
“What about you? Any travels?”
“Well…” She looks sheepish, which immediately makes me suspicious. “I was actually just back in Copenhagen.”
“Oh?” That simple reply comes out breathless, husky with emotion.
Copenhagen. I’ll forever associate that country with Christian.
“So, right before I left Copenhagen, I met up with Fiona.” She’s not looking at me as she speaks. Her words are hesitant. Unsure. My heart skips a beat. I know what she’s going to say. “She mentioned that things were pretty bad with Christian when you left.”
My heart sinks to my feet. I pull open the door and settle in the passenger seat. The interior already smells like her, warm and comforting. How I’ve missed Gabby, even if I dread this conversation. “How the hell did she know?”
“Jessica told her.” She puts on her seatbelt. “Not sure how Jessica knows.”
I sigh. “It wasn’t bad, just, you know, things had to end.”
Who the hell am I kidding? Of course things were bad. They were awful. She starts the car and backs out of the driveway. A few people are riding bikes. Two guys are carrying surf boards down the road. Waves must be good today. I turn the vent so the air conditioning is blasting directly onto my face. I feel suddenly hot. Really hot.
“Did they have to end?”
I jerk my gaze toward her. “Of course they did.”
“Why?” Her hands tighten on the steering wheel. She’s nervous to bring it up, at the same time, she isn’t going to let it go. She just doesn’t get it. “I know you liked him. I know he liked you. From what I’ve heard he’s not taking it well.”
My heart is hammering so madly that I can barely hear myself speak. I want to ask her what she means. How is he not taking it well? But I can’t. I won’t. She cares about me, about him, but she doesn’t get it.
“Turn right up here.” She does as I say, turning down a road lined with small beach cottages that are raised up on stilts. Palm trees waver on the warm breeze. “Park in front of the blue house on stilts. The one with the dolphin mailbox.”
I can feel the confusion coming from her, but she pulls into the driveway. “Where are we?”
I undo my seatbelt. “I want you to meet my friend, Zach.”
“Okay.”
I push open my door and step outside. Sweat peppers my forehead, whether from the heat, or the prospect of seeing Zach, I’m not sure. She follows me warily up the staircase that leads to the front door. She knows something is off, and she’s uncomfortable, but I’m not about to let her back out of this.
I knock and we wait patiently, side by side. When Zach’s mom opens the door, it’s obvious she’s been crying. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her dark skin splotchy. I hate seeing her this way. So very different from the smiling woman who always dressed up for Halloween and handed out the best candy in the neighborhood.
She manages to smile. “Hope, how are you, dear?”
“Hi Mrs. Jackson. I’m good. This is my friend Gabby.”
Her gaze shifts to Gabby but there’s no interest there. There’s no interest in anything anymore. She used to bake, garden, read. Now she just sits in her house…waiting. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Can I see him?” I ask.
It’s been days since I’ve been here. I feel horrible for avoiding them, but she understands. She knows that after a while people go about their lives. After a while they forget on purpose. You can only deal with negative for so long.
“Of course, sweetie. You know the way.”
Gabby and I step inside. The living room and kitchen are one large space, and although I know she’s busy, Mrs. Jackson has kept it sparkling clean. It’s the same thing my mom would do when I got ill. Cleaning makes them feel in control, my therapist said.
We head down a narrow hall to the door on the left. It’s not a large room and most of it is taken up by a hospital bed. The boy who is laying on that bed is still, eyes closed.
Mr. Jackson is sitting in a chair next to the bed, holding Zach’s hand. At our approach, the older man lifts his head, his gaze catching mine. He gives me a soft smile, but I know that smile has cost him all the energy he has left for the day. His dark hair is completely gray now. It started to change fast when Zach got sick.
“Honey, Hope wants to see Zach.”
He nods and stands. His movements are slow, as he practically shuffles out of the room even though he’s only fifty. He pauses briefly to rest his hand on my shoulder, before continuing on. I don’t wait for Gabby, but go to the bed.
Zach is gone. I know it. I can feel it. Sense it. The Zach I knew has left this body. His chest might be rising and falling, but that’s the machines and the breathing mask covering half his face. Of course I can’t tell his parents the truth. They’ll cling onto him as long as they can.
“This is Zach,” I tell Gabby. “I was supposed to bring him home a gift, but because of all the drama with Christian…I forgot. Not that it matters. He slipped into the coma right before I came back. He won’t wake up this time. The doctors say he has a couple weeks left, if that.”
“I’m so sorry, Hope,” Gabby whispers.
I move closer to the bed. “He was a brat sometimes, but he made me laugh. I made him laugh.”
Unable to stop myself, I rest my hand on his. His skin is cool to the touch. Can’t they see that he’s already dead? This will be me someday in the near future. A year from now. Two. Three. My family will hover over my lifeless body, clinging to hope.
Gabby’s lips tremble. “I didn’t know. I didn’t…”
“I understand.” I pull my hand away from his, but I can still feel the tingle of his touch. “It’s a brain tumor. He didn’t have a chance, although they certainly put him through hell trying. But he’s gone now. No more pain. You can see that just by looking at his face.” I release a harsh laugh. “It’s his parents who will suffer now. Suffer for the rest of their lives. His two younger sisters have had to be a shadow in their brother’s illness, quiet, in the corners. No childhood. And now, they’ll be a shadow to their parent’s pain.”
“Like your sister?”
“It’s part of the reason why I went to Copenhagen…to give them a break from me.”
She understands. As much as she can, anyway. We’re silent for a moment. Gabby hesitates, then steps closer and rests her hand on his as if she needs to touch him to truly understand. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or him. “It’s not the dead who suffer. It’s the living.”
She steps back, letting her hand drop to her side. “And you didn’t want to hurt Christian.”
“No.” I release a harsh laugh. “I want to keep my catastrophes to a minimum.”
Gabby wraps her arm around my waist, her skin so much warmer than Zach’s. “You broke things off with Christian on purpose, didn’t you? You kissed Matt on purpose?”
So, she heard about the kiss. But at least she understands. “Christian doesn’t deserve to deal with this. He lost his sister, he doesn’t need more grief. No one deserves this. Certainly not a man who has only known me three weeks.”
The look in her gaze is soft, but guarded, as if she fears saying the wrong thing. Or maybe she finally understands the pain and mental exhaustion she’ll have to go through by being my friend. This isn’t what she signed up for either.
She squeezes my fingers. “You love him, don’t you, Hope? You love Christian and that’s why you broke things off.”
Of course I love him. I’ve loved him since he gave me that five kroner for the toilet. I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Gabby. Nothing can stop death, not even love.”
****
“So, did you have a nice lunch with Gabby?” my mom asks from the chair where she sits near Dr. Robbins’ desk. “You seemed sort of quiet when you got home.”
I tear my gaze from the photos the doctor has on his walls, and wander to the chair next to hers. I wonder why he keeps working. Why he doesn’t retire and go to the Caribbean where he obviously would rather be located. He probably keeps telling himself just one more year. One more. Soon, it will be too late. He deals with cancer, he should know better.
“It was good,” I say, sinking into the empty chair next to hers. “Gabby is great. She’s a good person, a good friend. I’m taking her downtown tomorrow.”
And she is a good person. I know she won’t give up on me. When I’m in the hospital bed, she’ll be down here sitting next to me. That’s just the kind of person she is. And part of me wishes I’d never told her about the cancer, but a selfish part of me is glad I did.
“Hope, did something happen in Norway?” She rests her hand on mine. “You know you can tell me, you can tell me anything.”
“I know, Mom.” I smile, but it feels forced and brittle and she notices. “But nothing happened. It was great.”
Her lips pinch together. She doesn’t believe me. “Your cousin Heidi told your aunt Clare that you met someone…”
I roll my eyes and turn toward the windows. Thanks, Heidi. “It was nothing. A fling. I can have those, right?”
She hesitates, either put off by my tone or the idea of her daughter discussing flings. Even though she’s an artist and a feminist, she’s rather subdued when it comes to talking about sex. It’s the Midwesterner in her. “Well, yeah, but if one of those people in the fling develops feelings…”
“He’s a nice guy,” I snap, praying to god this conversation will end. “But I knew him for three weeks. It’s not like we’re in love.”
Despite Gabby’s happy chatter, I’ve sort of ruined her visit by taking her to see Zach. We went to the beach-side restaurant to eat lunch, but our conversation was tense, uneasy. She was afraid of saying something wrong, I just didn’t want to talk. Right before she left, she gave me some parting advice, like so many do.
“You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be in love.”
Maybe I do. But Christian didn’t deserve to have his heart broken. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for that.
“I thought…I thought this trip would make you happy.” She plays with the strap of her faux leather purse, because my mom never uses real leather. “I thought it was what you needed to help you…”
Time to do damage control. I thought she would eventually give up on me, but obviously she isn’t. “Mom, it did. Okay? I just…I wish it could have been longer.”
She shakes her head. “Then why did you come home early? Is it…the cancer? Have you been feeling worse? You look so much better. You’ve gained weight, you’ve got color.”
“Mom,” I interrupt. “It’s not the cancer.”
She looks hurt again. “Then what?”
I don’t want to get into this conversation. Not here, when the doctor can walk in at any moment. Yet, she won’t let up. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a little part of me that wants to explain, to lay the burden at her feet. I clasp my hands together and stare at my lap. “I just…I realized what I’m going to miss.”
Silence settles in the office. I peek up at my mom through my lashes. A variety of emotions sweep across her face all at once. Understanding. Sadness. Pity. At least now she gets it. At least now maybe she’ll leave me alone, let me mourn in peace.
“Oh Hope. I’m so sorry.”
Tears sting my eyes. I can’t stop them. It’s like a dam has burst open. One by one, they fall, trailing down my cheeks. All the tears I’ve pushed down, ignored. “It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair!”
She shakes her head. “It’s not.”
The door opens.
I swipe angrily at my cheeks as the doctor moves quickly across his plush office. He’s got a folder in his hands. My numbers, and from the frown on his face, they aren’t good. My chest feels tight. My hands grip the arms of my chair.
“Great,” he says. “You’re here.”
He finally manages to look at us. First his gaze on me, then my mom, and then back to me. He’s noticed my splotchy face, my wet lashes. He looks uneasy. He’s one of the best in his field, but he sure as hell isn’t very comforting. I know that bird feeder that’s outside his window was put there by some nurse, hoping to make up for the doctor’s cold personality.
He settles in the leather chair behind his desk. “Did I interrupt something?”
My mom forces a smile. “No, no, it’s fine.”
Mom starts telling him about my trip, even though we already talked about it during the last visit when I had my numbers checked three weeks ago. She’s giving me time to compose myself. I zone out, staring at the bird feeder and watching a house finch as it eats. The doctor is going to tell me I’m dying. I know it. I know it, yet instead of focusing on my lack of health, my mind goes back to Christian. Always Christian.
I spent over three weeks with him. I thought the memories would suffice, that they would offer me comfort at a time like this, but I was wrong. So very wrong. They only make me feel worse. I hurt him. Badly. And I realize I never should have hooked up with him at all. But I wanted him so desperately. Wanted to be normal. Wanted to forget. And yes, I realize, I wanted to be in love. I was completely selfish.
“It’s good to see you.” He picks up a pen, tapping it against the desktop, his movements jerky and quick, as if he’s got adrenaline pumping through him and can’t sit still. “You look well.”
I’ve gained weight. At least five pounds, maybe more. I nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the way he’s staring. He knows something. I can see it in his eyes. God, I hate surprises. “Yeah. I’m good.”
He clasps his hands together and rests them on his desk. “How are you feeling?”
I smile even though it feels like my face is going to crack. Something is wrong. I can tell. Gabby leaves in two days. I don’t want her to go. I want to cling to her, my one reminder of Scandinavia, of life. Once she’s gone, my link to Europe, my link to Christian…is too. Once she’s gone, I only have my health, or lack of, to focus on. “Great. Good.”
My mom looks dubious, as if she’s about to tell him the truth. I give her a pointed look. I swear, if she tells Dr. Robbins about my love life, I’ll never forgive her. He doesn’t need to know about my emotional issues. And frankly, I doubt he cares.
“Well.” He leans forward and opens a folder. “Something truly interesting has come up.”
“A new trial?” my mom asks hopefully.
My irritation grows. I’m super close to my breaking point. I don’t want a new trial, I just want to leave. I don’t want to be here. My chest is growing tight again. I grip the arms of the chair so hard I think they might break. Damn it all, I haven’t had an attack since returning home. I breathe in slowly through my nose, focusing on the bird feeder.
“No. Not a new trial, but…” He hesitates, his brows snapped together as if confused. With a short laugh, he leans back in his chair. “Your numbers in Norway came back great.”
I frown. Now I’m the one confused.
“What do you mean?” Mom asks.
“Your numbers were strong.” He reaches for the folder, takes out a piece of paper and hands it to my mom. “Which is why I’ve had you come in a couple times the last month to draw blood, and do some scans. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t a mistake. But…there wasn’t. The numbers from Norway match the numbers here. In fact, they’re even better now.”
I don’t really understand what he’s saying. Everything has gone blank. The world around me seems fuzzy. Unstable. Off balance. “I don’t…what do you mean?”
“I mean…” He smiles as he leans back in his chair again. “I don’t know how, or why, but Hope, your numbers are improving. You’re getting better. Your scans are clean.”
“The trial worked?” my mom whispers, her voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
“It seems so. Of course we’ll continue…”
I stumble to my feet. The room spins. My mom stands and slides her arm around my waist. She’s saying something, but I can’t seem to understand. She looks worried, but thrilled at the same time. She’s happy. I should be happy…shouldn’t I?
“Are you okay?” The doctor’s face wavers in and out of focus. I want to respond, but can’t seem to move my lips. They’ve grown cold, numb. He grabs his desk phone. “Bring a wheel chair into my office ASAP.”
My chest feels tight. I can’t breathe. Mom is rubbing my back, murmuring words of comfort, but I hardly feel her touch, hear her words.
I’m getting better. My cells are responding. I’m better.
No. It can’t be. It’s not possible.
The floor shifts. The room spins and I’m falling…falling.