If I Forget You (3 page)

“How many credits are you taking?” Heaven asked.

“She took my advice and is keeping it slow this first quarter,” Chloe cut in. “I can’t tell you how many freshmen I’ve seen drop out because they overdo it the first year.” She clicked her chopsticks and picked up a piece of lemon chicken. “So don’t give her a hard time.”

Heaven dropped a ball of twine and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Me? Never.”

“Thirteen credits,” Avery said, answering Heaven’s question. “I’m not too overwhelmed … so far.”

“It’ll get overwhelming at some point,” Heaven replied dryly.

Chloe closed the lid on her Chinese and got up, scooting around the edge of the table toward the door.

“Have fun, you two.” She pointed a finger at Avery. “Your shift ends at six, so if you catch the 6:05 on Fifteenth we can eat as soon as you’re home.”

Avery glanced at Heaven, her face growing hot. “I thought I might walk home, so don’t wait for me. I can heat up my dinner in the microwave if I need to.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed as she opened the door. “Whatever works for you, Avery. Have fun.”

Guilt hit Avery in the gut. Chloe was doing so much for her
—
letting her live in her house, feeding her, giving her a job. The least she could do was act more grateful.

Heaven leaned down and grabbed her zipper-bag. She dug inside and produced two packages of peanuts, the kind flight attendants hand out on airplanes. She tossed one to Avery, who caught it before it hit her in the forehead.

“You can’t work on books without a bag of those,” Heaven said seriously as she slipped on a pair of reading glasses. Now she looked even more sophisticated, and Avery smiled. For the first time in years she hadn’t immediately looked at someone’s hands when she’d first met them.

3

When Avery got home, the table was set for dinner.

“Smells good,” she said as she dropped her bag in the hallway, something her mom would kill her for doing, and sat down at the table.

Chloe turned around from the stove, her hands shoved into a pair of hot pink oven mitts. “You’re home on time! I thought you were going to walk.”

Avery shrugged. “Decided to take the bus.”

She didn’t add that she’d almost stepped onto the wrong one.

“Well, great. Everything’s ready. Hope you’re hungry.”

Avery’s stomach growled in response, and once Chloe had everything on the table they both dug in.

“So,” Chloe said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, “how’d you like Heaven? Did she overdose you on peanuts yet?”

“Yeah, four packages. Where does she get all those?”

“No idea.”

Avery watched Chloe as she ate. Even though she and her sister weren’t identical, Chloe’s face was similar in some ways, with wide-set eyes, thick eyebrows, and a strong, almost masculine chin. Chloe was a pretty, all-natural woman who didn’t bother with makeup or hair products, but she wasn’t so extreme as to be labeled “granola
.
”
Avery had never thought much about her mom’s relationship with Chloe, but now that she was living with her, she kept wondering how close they really were. Could two such completely different people truly get along?

“I miss Mom,” Avery said, breaking the silence. “I knew I would miss her, but this is like … well, it feels like a big hole.”

Chloe stopped chewing and raised her eyes to Avery’s. “I’m sorry to hear that. Have you called her?”

“Yeah, a few times. She says she’s fine.”

“And do you tell her you’re fine too?”

Avery’s fingers tightened around her fork. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then you’re both trying to hide the obvious,” Chloe said. “That’s something she and I used to do growing up. Oh, wait … we
still
do that.” She rolled her eyes and scooped up a huge forkful of potatoes. “We have old baggage we haven’t talked about for years.”

A heavy silence took over the room. Avery shifted in her chair as Chloe’s words sank in. “I didn’t know there was stuff like that in the family.”

Chloe smirked. “We hide it pretty well, don’t we?”

Avery just stared. When she had stayed here in June, there hadn’t been a huge amount of tension between her mom and Chloe, but maybe it had been going on for so long it was like an old bruise nobody reacted to anymore. There was more silence before Avery finally gathered the courage to speak again.

“So … can you tell me what it is? Does it have to do with that man in all your pictures?”

Chloe gulped down her mouthful of potatoes. It was so loud Avery almost laughed. “Yes, it does. Guess I should have seen that coming, huh?”

Avery smiled and nodded toward the hallway. “He
is
everywhere. Why is he a secret?” She realized she was probably prying way too deep for Chloe’s comfort. Then again, why would Chloe display someone all over her walls if she wasn’t willing to talk about him?

“He happened before your mom met your dad,” she explained as she pushed her plate away and sipped at her lemonade. “His name was William, and he put every other man in our lives to shame. We fought over him and I ended up winning his heart.”

She didn’t say it with any amount of pride.

“Then Mom met Dad?” Avery asked.

“A year later, yes, right about the time William and I became engaged. Susan married your dad before William died, and suddenly I wasn’t the bad guy anymore. She felt guilty when it happened.” Her eyes grew distant.

“How did he die?”

“He was in a car accident. He was in a coma for six months.” Her jaw clenched. “Your mom married your dad right in the middle of all that
—
before we even knew if Will was going to live or not. He died the month she found out she was pregnant with you.”

The unspoken words were pretty clear to Avery. Her mother hadn’t been there when Chloe needed her most, and Chloe hadn’t forgiven her yet, almost twenty years later. Even worse, Avery was a constant reminder of that pain. It made her wonder why Chloe had ever agreed to let her live here.

Avery wasn’t sure what to say, so she picked up her fork and knife and started separating a piece of chicken from the bone. It was greasy and slid back and forth. Her stomach churned.

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” she finally managed to say. “I didn’t know about any of this. Mom never
—
”

“No, she wouldn’t talk about it, of course. Why should she? At least now she’s alone too, just like me.” Her eyes went distant. “Be glad you don’t have a sister. I think they only bring heartache. Maybe that’s why she only had you. Siblings are more of a curse than a blessing. Be grateful.”

Stab. Thanks, Chloe.

Avery had no idea how to respond. She had always thought her mom didn’t have any more kids because she couldn’t have them. She had never really pried into anything like that.

Chloe looked up, her eyes filled with tears. She balled up her napkin and set it on the table. “I’ll be out back if you need me.”

Avery watched her slip out the door to the back yard. She wanted to be angry with Chloe, but mostly she felt sorry for her. She looked down at her plate. Her mother had married right when her own twin sister’s fiancé was in a coma. How could she have done that? Maybe they all thought he’d pull through. She’d heard of comas lasting for years, after all. Avery wanted to call her mom and ask about the whole thing, but instead she gathered all the dishes and took them to the sink.

She spent a good half hour cleaning up and then stood in the hallway so she could stare at Chloe’s pictures in the fading light. The sun had gone down and she had to squint to see the faces. Walter (or was it William?) was handsome with a short beard and sparkling eyes. Most of the pictures were black and white even though they were taken in the nineties. A camera was strapped around Walter/William’s neck in one of the only colored pictures.

So, her mother was once in love with this man …

That was the oddest thing Avery had envisioned in a long time.

* * *

It was sunny Friday morning and then pouring rain in the afternoon. Avery had left her umbrella somewhere, and as she walked to her second class for the day she wished she owned two.

Hair plastered to her face, rain dripping off her nose, she tromped up the stairwell in a building that smelled like old tuna sandwiches. Even though she had been to biology every weekday for the past week and a half, she had forgotten yet again where it was. She knew it was on the second floor, but that was as far as her memory went.

Stopping, she leaned against the wall and dug through her bag for her little stack of Post-its. They were right were she expected, and as she continued up the stairs, shuffling through the notes, she cursed Chloe under her breath.

The other night, when Chloe had told her about … Walter? William? Something starting with W. Anyway, it was as if Avery had given her permission to rant to her about everything else she hated about her sister. Now Avery’s head swam with Chloe’s constant chatter, stories of how Susan was always the most popular, most outgoing, most organized, most accomplished. Susan had always had to outdo Chloe, so when W came along, Chloe played dirty until she won him
—
and look where that got her. But seriously … was
that
the stuff Avery wanted crammed in her head while she was trying to get into the swing of college and her new life? She couldn’t focus on her aunt’s past family dramas or she would forget something crucial about school and normal day-to-day living.

It was so important to keep everything under control. Calm. Organized. Quiet.

Bam!

Something hit Avery’s nose, her shoulder, her knee, and she was flying through the air. Landing hard on her tailbone, she slid down two stairs before she could grab the railing to stop herself.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry!”

It was a familiar voice, and she stared up at none other than Nail Biter … or at least she thought it was him. O … his name had an O in it. Did it start with an O or was that the sound in the middle? Come
on.
She had to remember. She hadn’t seen him for a few days since English class on Monday. She had either not noticed him in class just a few minutes ago, or he hadn’t been there. She guessed he hadn’t been there. She was not
that
unobservant.

“It’s okay,” she answered as he looked down at her with a horrified expression. She must have run right into him, or he ran into her.
O, O, O … damn it, what was his name?

He kept swearing under his breath as he leaned over to offer her his hand.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he said once his cursing ceased. “I was running down the stairs and … yeah … there you were.”

“It’s probably my fault,” she answered, laughing. “Really, though, it’s okay. I’m not hurt.” Then she noticed two of her Post-its stuck to his inner right thigh. She wanted to reach out and grab them, but they were dangerously close to his crotch and she doubted he’d appreciate her reaching in that direction. Nice. That meant her hand had been right there on his thigh. Not on purpose, but still.

One Post-it said
Find out where Ryan is now
and the other said
Bio Room 201 (Fifth door on the left
—
the map is wrong and you keep forgetting to take the time to mark it).

She realized it might look like she was staring at something other than his leg, and she tore her attention away from the Post-its as she took his hand and stood up straight.

“Thanks,” she answered with a heavy breath, sweeping some stray hair out of her face.

“I take it you’re in a hurry?” he asked. He was still holding her hand and it didn’t look like he wanted to let go. In his other hand he held a small potted cactus. The plant was thick and round, like a spikey softball. Avery was glad he hadn’t dropped
that
when she had run into him.

She looked at her cracked watch. “Yeah, my class starts in a few minutes. Guess I’ll see you around? Maybe at the hot dog food truck?”

He looked confused for a minute and then laughed. “Do you like the ones with the cream cheese?”

“Yeah, it was really good. I wanted to grab another one today, but the rain kept me away.”

She liked the color of his hair. It was dark blond and bleached by the sun on the top layers. He studied her face for a minute, as if he’d never seen her before. She was about to say, “I’ll see you Monday in English,” but stopped when she glanced at his hands.

He had filed, perfectly smooth
fingernails.

“You busy tonight?” he asked, making her look back up at his face.

“What?” She froze. Was this Nail Biter? She could have sworn it was him. She remembered the mundane details, at least
—
blondish hair, blue eyes, nice clothes. Today he was wearing a pair of light slacks and black Oxford shoes. It had to be him … but where were the chewed fingernails?

“I meant, are you free to do something tonight?” he clarified.

Nobody ever asked her out. She let that thought sink in for three seconds before she blurted, “Do you always keep your nails so nice?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“My nails?” He looked down at his hands, one of them still curled around the cactus pot. “Um, yeah, I guess I do.” His cheeks turned a light pink before he looked Avery in the eyes and leaned forward. “Actually, that’s a lie. I bite them
all the time
, but it bugs the hell out of my dad, so I usually file them on the days I’m going to see him. He’s meeting me for lunch this afternoon.”

So he
was
Nail Biter. He was in her English class and he liked cream cheese hot dogs. Apparently, he liked plants too, and that made her like him even more.

“So,” he said, drawing out the word as long as possible. “You free? There’s a party over at my house tonight.”

“Is it one of those drink-until-you-pass-out kind of parties?” she asked, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

He smiled. “I won’t lie
—
a lot of people get drunk, but I won’t be one of them since it’s my house and I have to make sure nobody does anything too destructive. You up for it? We could get to know each other better. Stairwells and food trucks aren’t the best places to socialize.”