Days Like This (14 page)

I locked eyes
with her. “Graham always keeps his promises.”

“Do you
remember any other signs?”

There were
probably more, statistically. I knew it was common for kids to build a
tolerance, to block out the things they didn’t want to remember. Maybe I did
that.

“She slept a
lot sometimes. There was a whole week where I don’t remember seeing her and we
didn’t have food in the house because she couldn’t get out of bed. I took
myself to school; I made her breakfast that she didn’t eat. I ate at the
Tuckers’ house every meal that week and told Mrs. Tucker that Mom was sick.”

Dr. Lambert
nodded. “Mrs. Tucker knew?”

“Maybe. I
don’t know. She was always really careful what she said around me, and then
when we found Mom in the bathtub a few years later—well, then there was no
denying it.”

“Let’s talk
about that.”

“About what?”
I snapped. I didn’t want to talk about finding Mom. That was the worst
experience, and I’ve had to live it over and over for four years. No way I was
going there.

“The denial,”
she said. I exhaled. “You made Graham promise when you were eleven not to tell
anyone. How long did that last?”

I wracked my
brain. “I guess until I was fifteen, when I found her in the bathtub, when I
found out she was bipolar.”

“For four
years he kept your secret,” she said with a pause. She clicked her pen closed.
“Why didn’t you want anyone to know? You could’ve had someone help you. A lot
of your heartbreak could have been prevented.”

When she put
it like that, it sucked. I was a kid. How was I supposed to know? I squeezed
the pillow into my chest.

“I knew it
wasn’t normal compared to other people, but it was all I knew. She was my mom.
That life. Mom being happy; Mom being sad—it was mine,” I said. I looked right
at Dr. Lambert when I spoke. “It had always been mine. In middle school I
realized it wasn’t normal, but by then I knew that if I said anything I could
lose her; I could be taken away and I didn’t want that. She was all I had. She
was my mom.” I didn’t want to lose her. “There were days when she wasn’t sick,
when she was normal. Those were
really
the pretty ones. The ones I want to
remember most, and I can’t because of the rest.”

Dr. Lambert
leaned forward in her chair. “You said you wanted to stop it from repeating.
What exactly did you mean?”

I threw the
pillow down. “I don’t want to ever have anyone else feel that way about me.”

“What way?”

My throat
tightened. “I don’t want them to remember what I did, the bad things, and
forget me. I don’t want anyone to suffer because of me. If I end up like her.”
I picked the pillow back up. “So I didn’t tell anyone at college about Mom or
this place or Graham. I went and tried to start over.”

“That was
hard?”

“Very hard. I
had a friend, June, and a boyfriend, but they weren’t real. They were the ‘After
Cassie’.”

“After? After
what?”

I wanted to
stand up. I wanted to run, but I knew I couldn’t do that. I let a silence
settle around us until I couldn’t handle the lack of noise. I reached for this
bendy blue straw thing on the table. “Before I left Graham, I found Mom in a
manic state. She was yelling about my dad, and she told me—she didn’t know I
was Cassie—that he left because of her. And I snooped around. I found their
divorce papers. ‘After Cassie’ is after mom told me about my dad. After I left
Graham to go there. After everything.”

It was the
last thing I expected to find, but it was nestled in the trunk near the foot of
her bed right beside my birth certificate. My dad wasn’t dead; he was alive.
The reason for their divorce was listed as “emotional stress and turmoil.” He
left because he couldn’t handle her emotional trials. He left because she was
sick.

“Why did you
leave Graham?”

Dr. Lambert rested
in the back of her chair, studying me, legs crossed. I looked at her because I
wanted her to hear this part too. I wanted this part to matter, because this
part was the stuff that made me After Cassie. She’d said I’d changed, and I
had. “I didn’t want to hurt him, to trap him in a life with me. I didn’t think
I could stand it if he left me like that. I didn’t let anyone at Butler get
close to me.”

“Why?”

A simple
question; a complicated answer. I grabbed the blue bendy straw and twisted it
into an O before I answered. “I don’t want to be abandoned the way my mom was.”

“The way your
father left?”

“Yes,” I said.

“The way you
left Graham?”

My eyes shot
up. That made it sound so easy. It wasn’t easy. None of it had been. I followed
her row of degrees until my eyes met the windowsill. The sun seeped through a
crack in the blinds.

“The way I
left her, too,” I said. “I’d rather do the leaving.”

“But does the
leaving make you happier than staying?”

 “No,” I said
in barely a whisper.

“Thank you,”
Dr. Lambert said.

“For what?” I
asked, looking at her again.

“For telling
me something real,” she said. I froze, bendy straw in one hand, pillow pressed
against me. It did feel simple. Suddenly. My complicated life. My messy
emotions. Simple. “Cassie, I think it would be good for you to keep seeing me.
If you want to.”

“I don’t need
any help.”

“Everyone
needs help, Cassie. Besides, I think you know that’s not true.”

“Dr. Lambert—”

She didn’t let
me finish. She threw the notebook and the pen on the table beside her. “I think
you need to let someone in. You need someone to talk to, and it doesn’t mean
you’re sick or crazy. We’re human. We’re wired to need other humans. To share,
to talk, to trust. I want to be that person for you, Cassie, until you’re ready
for it to be someone else. We can talk about anything you want, but I think it
would help you.”

“Help me
what?”

“Exactly,” she
said.

I CHECKED MY phone as I
turned on the shower after my Wednesday morning run. Three emails. I stopped
taking the thing with me a long time ago. For some reason the universe knew
when I was trying to exercise and everyone needed something in that hour. I
didn’t listen to music, anyway. I liked the sound of my breathing, my heartbeat
in my head, nature and traffic and animals. It kept me moving forward, pushed
me on.

The third
email made me freeze. It was from Rice University saying my status had been
updated. Holy shit. Was this it? My hands shook as I logged into my account. I
had to try twice because I kept pushing the wrong letters. Stupid fucking
touchscreen phones. The page loaded and I clicked on my account.

Where the
screen usually said, “Waiting,” it said, “Approved.”

Approved.

Approved.

What a great
fucking word.

I clicked on
the link below the Best Word and directions popped up. I was officially an
entering junior at Rice University in the architecture program. Classes started
in late August. It went on to talk about payment, housing, forms, a bunch of
shit I didn’t care about right then because I was accepted. I was going to
Texas. I was going to school. I did it. I fucking did it!

“MOM!” I YELLED, busting into
the kitchen. She was sitting at the table eating breakfast and probably reading
some romance novel on her e-reader when she looked up at me. I smiled, like a
crazy idiot probably, but I didn’t care. I was going to school!

“What’s going
on, Graham?” she asked, taking a bite of her eggs.

I leaned back
against the kitchen counter. I could play this cool. “I was wondering what you
were doing in August?”

Mom shook her
head and took another bite. “How am I supposed to know that? I don’t know.
Nothing?”

“Good—because
we have to go to Texas to take me to school.”

Her fork froze
mid-air. “What?”

I smiled.
“Rice starts in August. I have to be there the twenty-fifth. If you want to put
it in your calendar.”

She dropped
her fork. “You got in?”

“I got in!”

Mom cheered,
and jumped up from her seat. She wasn’t disapproving when I decided to stay
here after graduation. I told her I was trying to figure it out, but really, it
had been for Cassie. But this, she knew how much I wanted it. She wanted it for
me. Mom laughed, stretched her arms up around my neck to hug me.

“I have to
call your father! We’ll plan a dinner when your dad is back in town!” She
kissed my cheek and left me in the kitchen. I could hear her still cheering,
still excited, from across the house.

I had to go
tell Molly. I knew she was at work, so I was almost to my truck when Joyce called
my name. I debated getting in my truck anyway and walking on like I hadn’t
heard her, but then I’d already paused. Now it would be rude. Besides, I wasn’t
mad at her. I wasn’t mad at anyone. I was moving on, officially now, and that
was allowed.

“Graham,” Mrs.
H said, a smile on her face. “Good morning.”

“That it is,
Mrs. H.”

“I know it’s
short notice, Graham, but we are having game night tonight. Remember how we
used to do that every month?” she asked.

I nodded. I’d
remembered. One night a month in high school Mrs. H had game night for Cassie
and our gang. It was after she got on her meds when she was more stable. We’d
all come over and hang out with Cassie. She’d give us all a beer and play some
kind of great music in the background, and we’d make up our own rules to
whatever we were playing.

“You’re
invited, if you can come,” she said.

I shook my
head. “I would, Mrs. H, but I have plans with my girlfriend. We’re celebrating
tonight.” I didn’t have plans yet, but I would. She’d be excited for me. She
wanted this for me almost as much as I did.

“Celebrating
what?”

“I was
accepted into a college I really wanted,” I said.

“Oh, you got
into Rice?”

“You remember
that?”

She smiled. “I
remember a lot, Graham Tucker. I’m bipolar, not old.” I chuckled, even though
she was both things. “You have fun with your girlfriend, but we’ll have to do
it another time. I want to celebrate with you, and I’m sure Cassie will too.”

“Yes ma’am,” I
said.

I sent Molly a
text that I was coming to visit her. Her response was quick:
I am sick.
She was sick.

Do you want
me to come by?

No. Not
pretty :(

Feel
better.

I slid my
phone away.
Crap.
I turned back to the Harlen house. I knew
I shouldn’t go there, but it was like nothing else was listening as my feet led
me there. I could have game night with them. I could hang out with Cassie if I
wanted to. I didn’t want to be with her. I knew I was where I was supposed to
be with Molly, and then I was supposed to go to Texas. I could do this. We
could be friends, really friends. Not some other form that didn’t feel right.

And besides, I
could get out at any time.

Mrs. H
answered the door. “Actually, game night sounds wonderful.”

GRAHAM LAUGHED. IT was the
best sound. Each time it echoed through my house, it shook something inside me.
It was just the three of us, and playing Life didn’t really scream party, but
there was something about us sitting here and Cheap Trick playing around us.
The last two months had been good for me. Being here, with them, sparked
something I’d lost in Indiana. I’d been more like myself since I’d been home.
Mom did that; Graham did that.

The doorbell
rang and all three of us shared a glance.

“I want the
green piece!” I called, and went to the door to get the pizza. We ordered
Graham’s favorite to celebrate his big news. Mom even made him a cake. When I
opened the door, there was no pizza.

There was a
girl. With a mess of short brown and purple curls, a cigarette resting in the
corner of her mouth and standing with a closed, dripping yellow umbrella. She
had a suitcase beside her.

“June,” I
said. What the hell was June doing on my porch? I didn’t know she was coming.
She was pissed. I was happy to see her, but not. Inside, they were laughing
again. How would I explain them to her? I stepped onto the porch. “What are you
doing here?”

“I told you
not to disappear,” she said.

“I didn’t.”

She huffed,
took a long drag of her cigarette, and crossed her arms. “It’s been a month
since we talked. You haven’t answered my emails or called me back. Friends
don’t disappear like that without a word—so I came for a visit.”

I hadn’t been
sure what to say to her, so I’d ignored her. It was wrong, but I didn’t think
she’d come here. “How did you even get this address?”

“Pete Langley
snuck me into admissions during finals—just in case. I would’ve called, but I
didn’t think you’d answer. So I thought, ‘I’ll go down there and see what’s
keeping her so busy she can’t talk to her best friend.’ And here I am.”

“Cass?
Everything okay with the pizza?” Graham asked. I reached for the door, but he
was quicker and he opened it. June’s eyes widened with the door, and she took
another drag off her cigarette. This was awkward. Graham looked at her
suitcase, and then at me. “Hi,” he said.

“June, this is
Graham. Graham, June.”

“Pleasure,”
June said.

“Same,” he
said with a pause. “Cassie didn’t mention you were coming?”

“It was a
surprise,” she said. I tossed her an annoyed look when she emphasized the last
word. She was smiling, though, like she’d done it intentionally.

Graham smirked,
and I could tell he was gloating too. Great. They were already teaming up.
“I’ll leave you two alone.”

He went back
inside, and June threw her cigarette to the ground. I watched as it soaked up
the rain and went out. “Wow, he’s hot. No wonder you haven’t called me back! I
bet he keeps you busy, big boy like that.” I blushed; I could feel it on my
cheeks. “Is he yours?”

“No,” I said.

“I’ll take
him,” she said, looking over my shoulder through the little crack in the door.

“He’s taken,”
I said.

June raised
her eyebrows only for a second before nodding. “He’s the one from before?” I
didn’t answer. June didn’t know about Graham, but she’d known about a boy I
left behind. The one who made me boy-sick. “That’s a story I’m going to hear
later, right?”

I shrugged and
glanced at her suitcase. She was definitely planning to stay, then.

 “Are we going
to go inside now or do I need to light another cigarette to keep myself warm?

I reached out
for her bag. “We’re about to play Life.”

“Can I be
yellow?”

“Sure,” I
said. June hugged me before we went inside.