Echoes Between Us - McGarry, Katie Page 0,70
will do a great job on the project. Tell her not to worry about taking whatever time off she needs.”
“Thank you.” His voice is gruff. “V also mentioned that she told you about dinner next weekend. As of right now, she decided to put that on hold for a while.”
“Dinner?” Mom pipes in.
Mom won’t understand early Thanksgiving. I don’t pretend to get it, but I like Veronica so I go with it. Mom will judge. “She invited you, me and Lucy to have dinner with them next week so we could all meet.”
Mom’s face softens as if she’s surprised someone like Veronica would do something like that. “That was nice of her. Tell her we hope she feels better soon, and that we’d love to reschedule dinner when she’s up for it.”
Ulysses stands. “Will do.” As Mom and I move, he says, “I can see myself out. Thank you for your time.”
From my seat at the table, I watch as he walks across the living room, opens the door then shuts it behind him. Thoughts race as to what could be wrong with Veronica. Yesterday, she was fine. Better than fine. She was brilliant sunshine, comebacks, and a daredevil. She was an unsinkable ship, but the way Ulysses looked when he said, V loves the ocean and she needs the time—it’s as if she’s dying.
A pang of guilt lashes along my spine. What if she got hurt because I convinced her to jump? What if jumping messed something up in her brain? What if my decisions hurt her?
My brain cracks into two halves and both sides have slipped into madness.
The silence between me and Mom is deafening as I dread whatever might come out of her mouth next. Beyond being pissed I didn’t join Sylvia’s group, Mom’ll now be angry I’m partners with a girl who has migraines and a brain tumor and misses school.
For the second time tonight, Mom reaches over, places her hand over mine and gives my fingers a squeeze. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“That I raised a great boy.” She pats my hand, grabs her cell and then stands, leaving me feeling off balance.
Any lingering feeling of the high I had from yesterday’s adrenaline rush flees. God help me, I want to jump again.
What kind of monster am I that I’m filled with this need? But then another monster looms in the back of my brain, and I yell out, “Don’t tell anyone, Mom! Don’t you dare tell anyone about Veronica’s tumor!”
* * *
I’m at war with myself. Pissed because I don’t belong here. Pissed because I have nowhere else to go. Pissed because the place I want to go—to any cliff with a dangerous jump—is no good for me.
I’m in the back of the room of the AA meeting. My knee bounces so hard I’m shocked no one has tried to punch me. Listening is hard, concentrating is harder as the speakers get up and talk about the challenges, failures, and successes of their week. I’m not sure if I had any successes this week, but I’m racking up the failures left and right.
Some people share the overview of their dismal affair with alcohol. Their stories are a mix and match of alcohol-induced scenarios that lead to losing jobs, marriages, kids, friends and family. People clap when a guy finishes sharing. Knox the Surfer Dude stands from his seat and goes to the podium. When he looks up to speak, he nods his chin at me to let me know he sees me. I nod back, even though I don’t like being seen.
Knox talks about family complications—how his mom and dad drink and don’t understand why he doesn’t, and because of that, he’s moving out, even though he can’t afford it. He talks about trusting God with this choice, and that sounds like a lot of faith for someone who admits he doesn’t have enough money.
He wraps up, and the person who led the meeting asks if anyone else wants to speak. There’s a part of me that does. I want to yell. Scream maybe. If I do, maybe that will make me feel better and I won’t want to jump anymore. Maybe if I can let go of all the things wound tight inside me, I wouldn’t be so messed up. But I can’t because my problem isn’t with drinking.
The meeting is dismissed, and I equal parts want Knox to talk to me and for him to stroll right on by like I ain’t