Rachel and I would figure it out. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. If you’re not happy, then I’m not happy. I know it hasn’t seemed like that the last few months, but it’s true.” I think about last weekend. Scar and Adam, her new life without me. How we’ve all moved on—forward—and how in some ways, moving back would just be moving backward. It’s not like my mom is there, and I guess memories, as much as they can be held on to, are portable. Granted, Chicago would mean never having to feel bullied, a huge bonus, but Gem’s not quite scary enough to make me flee the state.
I think about the life I’ve built here. SN and Ethan, or maybe SN/Ethan, Dri and Agnes, even Theo. Liam too, I guess. How my new English teacher said I’m one of her brightest students, which is a huge compliment, considering I go to a school that sends five kids to Harvard each year. How Wood Valley may be filled with rich brats, but it also has a beautiful library, and I get to work in a bookstore, and I’m reading college-level poetry with a boy who can recite it back to me. In a strange way, thanks to Rachel, LA has turned out to be nerd heaven.
I think about Ethan’s smile, how I want to see it every day. No, I don’t want to move back.
“Nah. I mean, I think about Chicago all the time, and for a minute there, all I wanted was to go home, but that’s not what I’m mad about. It’s not like it would even really feel like home, anyway. I just feel, you know—” My eyes fill, and I look at the cash register. The 9 button is wearing thin. I hate that I don’t know how to say what I want to say.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I don’t want you to ever feel alone.” And there, he said it for me, so I can say it out loud now.
“Dad, you kind of orphaned me. Like I lost both of you guys, and Scar too. You left me to figure it all out on my own.”
I did figure it out.
Most of it, at least. Maybe Scar is right: I am more kick-ass than I give myself credit for.
“Can you imagine how lonely it’s been for me? Not now. I mean, now I’m okay. But not so long ago, I felt like I didn’t have anyone in the world. And you were out every night with Rachel or holed up with your laptop. It’s not like I hate her or anything. I mean, I don’t know her, actually. I guess…thank her for my ticket, please.” I pause, take a breath. Of course I should do that myself, and I will.
“It’s just, I moved into this house, and have like, this weird room with these big paintings on the wall, like a third grader did them. What’s up with that? Anyhow, it’s not the art or even the soap with those strange letters, which make my hands smell nice, really, unfamiliar but nice, but it’s just not mine, you know? And I just…It sucked, Dad. I mean, it really sucked,” I say. Nope, the tears have not retreated; they’re back, spilling down my cheeks, and I’m at work, and I just hope the bell doesn’t ring anytime soon. I think I have said more to my dad in the last thirty seconds than I have in the last three months. Sometimes when I start, when the words finally find themselves, I can’t hold back the momentum.
“Oh, sweetheart.” My dad stands up, and I think he’s coming to give me a hug, so I wave him off. I don’t want to cry on his shoulder. Not right now. I’m not ready yet. “I’m so sorry,” he says.
“I don’t want an apology. I don’t want anything. I’m mad at you, and I have a right to be mad at you. And I’ll stop soon. You’re my dad, and of course I’ll stop. I get it. Our world exploded. And you just didn’t have enough left over. I kind of did the same thing to Scar. And I wish I were stronger or better or something and I didn’t need anything from you. But I’m not. And I do. It would have been nice if we could have done this together. But we didn’t. And it’s done. We’re here