18 Things (13 page)

I stared at the polished metal crucifix hanging on her wall. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just put me under hypnosis or something? Maybe I could try to meet Conner in my dream and try to figure all of this out.”

Dr. Judy wiggled in her chair. “Hypnotherapy won’t help with understanding your dreams. I could use it on you to help deal with your guilt and grief, but I’ve always felt that was a bit like cheating.”

I reached into my tote bag and put away my journal, the subject of dreams clearly closed.

“What’s that other book you have in there?” Dr. Judy asked, peering over her desk.

“A memory scrapbook Nicole brought me from the bookstore a few days after Conner died. She helped me fill it up. Do you want to see a picture of him?”

She nodded. “Very much so.”

I took a deep breath and opened up the scrapbook, tears falling from my eyes.

Dr. Judy handed me a tissue. “He was really handsome, wasn’t he? Do you mind if I look at some more of the pictures, or is it too painful?”

I stood and laid the scrapbook on the desk, then leaned over her shoulder. Flipping through the snapshots, I gave her detailed explanations for each. Birthday celebrations, holidays, sailing competitions, the annual Coast Guard festival. The memories all there, in case I ever forgot. The last one I came across was from two Octobers ago, the surprise sweet sixteen birthday party Conner and Nicole threw for me It was a small gathering. Both of our parents were there, Megan because she hadn’t left for college yet, and Sean and Kyle. I had thought Conner was just taking me out to dinner to a fancy French restaurant along the Grand River channel, but when we arrived, everybody was waiting for me in the back room. The picture showed me seated in my chair, sixteen balloons behind me, Conner down on one knee. His present, besides the party, was re-gifting the Morticia Addams gumball machine ring I’d given him when we were eleven.
The Addams Family
was one of our all-time favorite movies.

“I didn’t think he possessed a single sentimental bone in his body until that night,” I said.

Dr. Judy closed the scrapbook, then rested her hand gently on mine. “Where’s the ring now?”

I walked around her desk, then shoved the book back into my tote. “In my night stand at home. It’s too painful to wear.”

I sat in my bedroom after counseling and a long day at work, staring at the sweet sixteen picture. Deciding not to leave this one in the scrapbook, I walked over to my backpack hanging on my swivel chair, all ready to go for Tuesday. I taped the picture to the inside of my planner, where I’d see Conner’s face the most. Then I opened the drawer on my nightstand, debated for a minute if wearing the ring would be too painful like I thought, then slid it on my finger.

Hurt like hell.

But I’d keep wearing the ring as a reminder of my pain. Conner would be the only guy I ever loved, because if I never loved again, I’d never have to be this sad again.

In a rare act of kindness, Mom agreed to end my sentence one day early so I could attend the last day of the annual two-week long Coast Guard Festival downtown. The leniency was probably only because we’d signed up the Cantankerous Monkey Squad to compete in the Battle of the Bands. It was part of the festival’s concluding events. Bands came from all over the midwest to compete because the festival attracted such big crowds every year. So Mom knew I’d be forced to sneak out again if she tried to keep me from attending.

Sitting at our cozy glass-top kitchen table, I sipped my vanilla flavored coffee and hoped this little bit of comfort would last me through the day. Looking up, I counted the coffee mugs I’d purchased for Dad over the years. Ever since they started letting me drink coffee, mugs were the only thing I gave him for birthdays and Christmas. Eighteen cheap porcelain cups with cutesy pictures of snowmen, stockings, lakes, and golfing greens lined the top of our kitchen cabinets.

Mom wasn’t so sentimental. She’d never hung my school work on the fridge, never told me good job for all my straight A’s, only, ‘Why did you get a B on this test?’ Perfection was the standard in my house, not the exception. Picturing those formative years when my parents were my best friends proved difficult now. They didn’t conceive until their late thirties, so all their friends’ kids were much older. Having no playmates my age until I started elementary school meant I’d developed an old soul from the start, participating in their grownup conversations and drinking coffee—starting in third grade—albeit, only miniature cups back then.

Sighing, I flipped open my laptop and typed another blog, keeping time.

I feel small and tired today. Forget today, how about every day. Things have been so tough in my life lately, and I can’t remember when life was good. Minute by minute, I struggle not to think of the accident. I wish I had courage to face tomorrow. I wish I had peace over what happened. I wish I felt like there was a purpose to my life.

Right after Conner died, I thought I’d never go on, like the only thing ahead of me was suffering, loss, grief. Then I started my life list. The 18 Things helped push me toward a goal, but now I feel like all my dreams have fallen flat. I’ve worked hard all my life, but what’s the use? Things didn’t work out for me. I don’t know how to handle all this grief. Before Conner’s accident, if someone would’ve asked me what the most powerful weapon in the world was, I wouldn’t have known the answer. I might’ve guessed a nuclear bomb. A knife in the hands of your enemy. A United States Marine and his gun. A missile. But now, I know the answer with absolute certainty: the most destructive force isn’t anything you can hold physically with your hands, it’s something you hold in your heart. It’s a tiny five-letter word, not even hard to pronounce: g-u-i-l-t. It kills you slowly from the inside out, and there are no drugs to numb the pain.

I almost typed, ‘I would know,’ but I also felt too guilty about that incident to even admit to the deed. The only people who knew about it were my parents and Nicole. I sighed, pounding the keyboard while I summed up my thoughts.

Sometimes I’m tempted to daydream about my future, then I stop myself, wondering if the future is really in my hands. Life is so not fair.

“Life is so not fair,” Mom repeated over my shoulder, making me jump.

I hit the post button and then shut my laptop with a little more force than necessary. “You wanna argue with me about that, too?”

She sat next to me and took hold of my hand. “I have your father as a husband and you as a daughter, so anyone would be hard pressed convincing me life is
all
unfair. You just need time to heal. And that’s okay. But I think everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t see the why just now.”

I cleared my throat, so over the ‘everything happens for a reason’ right now. “Yeah, well, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go.”

Sean pulled his truck into the last parking spot in front of Buffalo Bob’s skate shop downtown, and Nicole was forced to Parallel Park her Civic on a side street nearby. All sorts of folks were packed in the blocked off areas. Nate and Kyle helped Sean gather the band gear out of the trunk, while the girls helped me retrieve my supplies. During my time spent in Mom’s Boot Camp, I bought a box of thirty plain red T-shirts and another box of thirty plain blue T-shirts. I experimented in Photoshop and created different iron-ons featuring angry chimps and the name of the band. I wanted to see how they sold tonight at twelve bucks a piece. Increasing their fan base was my first step in helping Cantankerous Monkey Squad land a record deal.

I arranged the shirts on the table the event coordinators set up for me, and Tammy came over to help.

“So what’s with the hippy skirt you’re wearing tonight? New look?” she asked.

I harrumphed. “Kind of. Mom let me borrow it. Her old hippie look matches the band better than any clothes I own, and I wanted to dress the part since I’m selling these shirts.”

I tugged my own Cantankerous Monkey Squad shirt over my stomach, admiring the logo I designed.

Tammy blew a bubble, and the gum popped in her face. She wiped off the sticky substance with her hand.

“Nice,” I said.

She laughed. “Just like that skirt.”

I fluffed my hair with my newly polished fingernails. “Well, at least my hair and nails look great for once. Nicole helped me get ready when she came to pick me up.”

Tapping manicured nails on the table, Tammy said, “Totally hot. And you can still wear cool jewelry even if your clothes suck. Come and look at this stuff.”

She dragged me to a tent where necklaces dangled from an Eiffel Tower Jewelry Stand. “Check this one out.”

Tammy held out a blue glass pendant on a sterling silver necklace with a diamond in the middle.

“It’s beautiful.” I searched for the tag, then whistled at the five-hundred dollar price. “Wish I could afford it. It’d probably be the only diamond I ever get.”

She unclasped the necklace, then held it around my neck so I could see what it looked like in the tiny mirror mounted on the canvas. “Nonsense. And you should splurge. I never see you spending any money you earn from the bookstore.”

A flush crept across my cheeks as I caught a wistful look from Nate in the mirror. I hadn’t seen him standing there.

I cleared my throat. “Nah. I’m saving money for college. But what do you say you, me, and Nicole grab a bite to eat before Battle of the Bands starts?”

“Sounds perfect,” Nicole said from behind.

I glanced at the table where she taped her poster advertising our T-shirt sales.

“Your bubble letters haven’t changed a bit since third grade,” I said as she steered our little group toward the sub shop. “And do we really need to eat at the Pavilion Wharf Pizza and Sub Shop again? We go there on our lunch break almost every day.”

“Hello? A submarine sandwich is a very fitting meal for the Coast Guard Festival.”

The automatic door slid open, and we all sailed in, the sky behind us as blue as the sea.

We got so wrapped up in our convo at dinner that we almost missed the start of the boys set. I took my seat in Waterfront Stadium as Kyle picked up his sticks, ready for their first song. The guys looked adorable in their matching ensembles: frayed jeans, a mixture of red and blue Cantankerous Monkey Squad shirts, tweed jackets they found at a thrift store, and a pair of two dollar reading glasses they bought at The Bookman. After their self-titled song, I shifted the water bottle I held to underneath my arm, then clapped with the rest of the captive audience. They adjusted some of the settings before the next and final song while I snarfed down the bag of SunChips left over from my value meal.