My Only (32 page)

My fists thudded again and again in an irregular beat of rage. They couldn’t keep her from me, not even by pretending that she was dead. I couldn’t believe my father would go along with something like that. He’d never lied to me before. The Cartwrights must have been so pissed at me in order to do something this horrible and to get my dad involved.

Arms wrapped around my shoulders. I twisted around and pushed at my dad’s chest. “Why are you doing this?” My dad grabbed my wrists, bringing them together in an X as I pul ed and pushed and twisted. I registered the pain, but couldn’t feel it. I pressed forward, pushing him off balance. His hold on me weakened, and I ripped my hands, pounding on the door again. I was screaming for the Cartwrights to let me in, pleading with them not to do this.

Sometime later, I felt Aaron beside me. My arms fel to my sides again. I turned and stared at him. Slumping back down and bringing my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs. Aaron sat down next to me. He said something to my dad, but I wasn’t paying attention.

My dad went back across the street and emerged from our house a few minutes later. Bringing a bottle of water that I didn’t want it, he sat down on the steps in front of me.

No one spoke.

I had no idea what time it was when a car pul ed up in the drive. I stood and wiped my eyes, watching as Olivia’s grandparents slowly made their way up to the porch. I kept looking for Olivia, thinking she was hidden behind them. I’d been so sure they had been inside, that the fact that they were out on the porch with me and my family startled me.

Suddenly, I had nothing to say. Everything that I’d been thinking about yel ing since my dad had told me the lie, evaporated. Mrs. Cartwright’s face was red, her eyes puffy, but it was Mr. Cartwright’s expression that was like a jab to the stomach. He looked tired. He looked so sad that I couldn’t even find a word that could adequately describe it.

I didn’t wait for anyone to say anything. I shoved my way through everyone and ran across the street. I needed to be away from them. Once inside my house, I stumbled from room to room until I was in the bathroom, on my knees, throwing up into the toilet.

After that, there was no tel ing what happened. It seemed like a blink of my eye and I was in my room. Aaron sat at my desk. It was dark outside. I hoisted myself off of my bed and went over to the window. My chest tightened. Olivia’s curtains were stil closed. Part of my mind was perfectly aware what was happening, but it was overridden by the part of me that was sure Olivia was fine. Everyone was just conspiring to separate us.

Aaron was jealous because he realized that Olivia was awesome and she liked me better than him. My dad wanted to keep us apart because he wanted me to go to col ege unattached to some girl with a heart defect.

And the Cartwrights were stil pissed off that Olivia didn’t do what they’d told her to do. They were pissed at me for not making her. They were angry because they knew we had a physical relationship. It was just ridiculous that they were going to these lengths to make me feel like this.

I texted her.
Olivia, call me, okay? Everyone’s being horrible. They’re saying horrible things. I need you to call me. I’m worried.

I knew it was very late. I didn’t care. Without hesitation, I ran downstairs, out my front door and across the street. Again, I pounded my fists on the Cartwrights’ door. “Olivia! Olivia!” There was no response, so I yel ed, “You can’t keep her from me forever!” The door opened. Mr. Cartwright stood in flannel pajama bottoms. Olivia’s grandmother, a few feet behind him, a purple robe wrapped tightly around her body. I wanted to yel at them, but something sapped my energy. Instead, I begged, “I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you hate me, but don’t keep her from me!”

“Son,” Mr. Cartwright said. He put his hand on my shoulder and I shoved him back. He was a strong man, and I didn’t push very hard. With one foot behind him, he braced himself. “Adam, she’s not here.”

It was the sad emptiness in his voice that caused me to stop. Looking into his eyes, I saw they were glassy, like tears could spil out at any moment.

Mrs. Cartwright squeezed past him, put her hands on my shoulders and drew me into a hug. It felt strange, and I wanted to get out of the embrace, but I let it happen. “You can go upstairs if you’d like.”

It was al I needed to step into the house and tear up the stairs. I knocked on her door just like I always did. When I didn’t get an answer, I opened the door slowly then I flicked the light switch. I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her room without her.

I stood there silently taking it in. Half of the bedcovers were on the floor. Her pil ow was in the middle of the bed. The stainless steel bottle of water she kept on her nightstand was on its side on the floor, her cel phone was right next to it.

I picked it up. Sitting down very gently on the bed, as if it would break under my weight, I flipped through the messages on her phone. They were al from me.

Again, I looked around. My chest felt heavy. Olivia had never kept a clean room, but the blankets on the floor seemed to scream at me. The part of me that had held hope that everyone was lying died quickly as my imagination supplied visuals of what possibly happened.

In my mind, I saw Olivia’s grandmother hobbling up the stairs to check on her after Olivia failed to come down for breakfast. I could imagine her yel ing for Mr. Cartwright when she saw that Olivia wasn’t breathing. Mr. Cartwright would’ve scooped up Olivia’s light body that had already begun to lose color. He was fit, so he’d probably had no trouble getting her downstairs and into the car. He might’ve had to come back up to gather Mrs.

Cartwright. She’d probably been so devastated she couldn’t move.

Or maybe Mrs. Cartwright had been in the room when it happened. Maybe she saw the whole thing. Maybe they were able to get an ambulance here before . . . before . . .

I couldn’t complete the thought.

Not able to look at the blankets anymore, I got up and made her bed. I righted her water bottle and put her cel phone on the nightstand. Kicking off my shoes, I placed them careful y by the door before sliding under the covers. The bed smel ed of Olivia. I covered my eyes with my arms.

A minute later, sobs wracked my body. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything but cry.

I must’ve cried myself to sleep. I woke up feeling horrible, and dehydrated. It took a moment to figure out where I was. Once I realized I was in Olivia’s room,
why
I was in there hit me like a Mack truck.

When I rol ed out of bed, I was weak. Struggling to stand and walk, I pul ed on my shoes.

Downstairs, my father was drinking coffee with Olivia’s grandparents. I had no energy to speak, so I just stood there. My dad got up, said thank you to the Cartwrights, and then we left together. With an arm around my shoulder, he held me as we walked back home and sat me down at the table. The house was silent. Aaron was probably at school.

Dad set food in front of me, but I didn’t touch it. He spoke, but I didn’t listen. At some point, I got up and stumbled through the house. Settling myself in the shower upstairs, I let the water rain down on me until it grew too cold to bear.

I shivered. The cold reminded me of Olivia’s heart condition. It reminded me of what took her away from me.

I was a zombie for days. I moved through the routines, but was not an active participant. Aaron spent time with me, but I didn’t talk. I thought Casey had come over, but I wasn’t sure. On Friday, I woke to the sight of my suit—the one I’d worn to the Spring Fling—hanging up on my closet door.

I sat up and scratched my head, staring and remembering the night of the dance. I thought about how beautiful she’d looked, how fantastic she felt; how wonderful it was to be with her. Now I realized it was the beginning of the end. It could have been that night that set her heart on the path to failure. It had been cold, so maybe . . . maybe . . .

I stopped myself and took a deep breath. Something calming settled over my body, kil ing the anxiety of my mind. It was a smal moment of peace.

Around nine, Dad came in with Aaron behind him. “The viewing’s at eleven. It’s time to get up.” The viewing. The showing. The wake. The funeral.

I would see her body in a few hours. I would see the empty shel of who she once was. I would see the body I loved, but not the life. They wil have taken out her insides and made her an unnatural abomination. She wouldn’t have wanted that. She wouldn’t have wanted to be pumped ful of chemicals and decorated. She wouldn’t have wanted to be buried.

“Are we going to a cemetery?” I asked, voice crackling.

“No.” Dad paused and before continuing, he brushed the sleeve of my suit. It looked like there was a bit of dusty dirt on it, probably from the field.

The jacket was discarded relatively early. It had landed in a dry patch of dirt on the sidelines.

“She’s being cremated.”

Oh. Olivia’s body was being cremated. “Good,” I said. I felt sick after I said it, though.

“Come on,” Aaron said, extending his hand to help me up out of bed.

I felt like an invalid, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Aaron and my dad had to practical y hold me up as we entered the funeral home. I nearly lost it when I saw the casket in the front of the room.

“Do you want to go up?” my dad asked.

Aaron answered for me. “Not yet.”

The Cartwrights stood next to the casket. People filed past, shaking their hands and saying things in low voices. I felt numb, but there was something bubbling inside of me. Tears were flooding my eyes. It seemed like my feet moved on their own and propel ed me toward the front of the room.

I could feel Aaron next to me as I stared down at the body that used to house Olivia. I tried to remember everything she had taught me about loving and respecting life. I tried to remember her views on death. Quantum physics stated that there was no death of energy, just transformation.

But it was clear to see that the body I’d loved touching and kissing was dead. If it was true that the soul, the spirit, the energy left the expired body, the thought didn’t make me feel better. It just highlighted the fact that she was now absent from my life.

A chil passed through me as I stared at her face. The makeup wasn’t right. I hoped they’d chosen a cruelty-free brand. Her coloring wasn’t right at al . The heavy cream they used was the wrong color. And her lips weren’t red like that.

Her eyes were closed. I wished I could see her eyes again, but realized they’d be a hol ow void. I didn’t
really
want to see them. But stil , my chest ached at the loss of them. Had I known this was going to happen, I would’ve stayed in her bedroom al night and kept her awake. I would’ve never stopped gazing into those beautiful brown eyes.

When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I walked to the end of the casket. Mrs. Cartwright enveloped me into a tight embrace. Then Olivia’s grandpa patted me on the back. Aaron flanked me; my father walked behind.

There were people al around—some sitting, some standing. I caught sight of Casey, Blake, Seth, and Cory. They were al watching me. Cory gave me a little nod. Seth looked away. Blake held up his hand in a silent greeting, and when Casey’s face lifted in a sad show of support, I broke like a baby weeping for his mother.

I started to shake, and it was only because my brother caught me that I didn’t fal to the floor. Aaron was strong enough to hold me up long enough to get me to a chair.

The funeral was massive, not because the Cartwrights made it a social event, but because the whole town seemed to be there. I was pretty sure the entire school had shown up. I hadn’t paid attention during the year, but Olivia had made a lot of friends. It looked like everyone had known her.

While I was present for the funeral, I wasn’t real y there.

By Monday, my dad made me go to school, he said, “wal owing won’t bring her back.” Grief counselors were there for a week. I had a mandatory meeting with one, but I didn’t talk to her.

The first day back was long and difficult. The second was worse. By the Friday after Olivia’s funeral, I was completely numb. I traveled the hal s as a ghost. I looked at nothing and spoke to no one. Finals were coming up, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to study. I would fil out the forms. I knew what I knew, but I didn’t have enough energy to
try
to do wel . I either would or I wouldn’t.

I didn’t so much quit my job at the mal as I just stopped going. I couldn’t stand even the thought of walking the same paths I had with Olivia. I didn’t want to see the toy store, or the spot in my bookstore where she’d sat and read for an hour waiting for me to take a break. I didn’t think I could handle the food court either.

The Cartwrights let me spend time in her room. I sat at her desk, flipped through her books; reading passages at random, wondering what she’d been thinking when she read them. I sat on her bed and cried. Her last night, we’d lain right here, her head on my shoulder, hand over my heart.