Waiting (21 page)

“You want me to drive?”

I nod.

“You want to go to school?”

I shake my head no.

“Want to go to the beach? I’ve always wanted to play hooky at the beach. Can’t do that in Utah.”

“Sure,” I say.

We change places, and I lean my head back and let the tears leak from my broken eyes.

Jesse’s silent. He takes the keys, adjusts the seat, hands me a napkin from McDonald’s (where’d that come from?), and turns the car around.

We drive toward
Ponce Inlet, a few miles up the coast.

We drive slow, then look for a place to park.

I feel glued to the seat. The sun shines in nice and warm, but I’m a statue almost. And I should be, because I know how things are at home and why didn’t I think that the rest of my world would find out how I live now?

It’s warming up quick outside. I roll down the window, hoping for a breeze, but there’s hardly anything out here now, which makes the air seem even warmer.

We’re quiet. Jesse takes the keys from the ignition, hands them to me.

I want to look at him, but I can’t.

This is all my fault.

I didn’t have to push her.

But the thing is—the thing is, I
did
. I
had
to know she knew I’m still alive.

Jesse touches my hand. He’s turned, looking at me.

“That’s the weirdest thing I have ever seen,” he says.

It seems he’s careful with his words. Does he want to say, “Freak? Crazy? Mental?” I guess not, because he says, “Tell me what happened,” as he shifts around in the seat,

moving to face me more.

I look him right in the eyeball, and like that, I’m laughing.

Laughing hard. But the laughing turns to wails. “I’m all alone. My brother’s gone. Gone! And my mother hates me.”

I shouldn’t have gone after her. I regret that I did. But I’m sort of glad that I did too. “I’m all alone.” My words are ragged. Broken. I roll the window the rest of the way down. Try to stop crying.

“Why does she think we’re sleeping together?”

If this were
any other life, I’d be laughing again. There’d be no tears. Instead, I look out at the ocean. The sun has made a mirror of the water. But the crash of the surf—it’s so calming. I open the door. Kick off my shoes right there in the sand. I’m glad I wore a skirt today.

Walk. Walk, London Castle. The sand is warm, and the weather is getting more Florida-ish. I can’t wait for the humidity. Jesse follows. He puts his hand in the middle of my back, like Jesus did so long ago after that village died, and when I glance over my shoulder at him, I see he looks like Jesus with his dark hair, dark eyes—if I squint just right.

“I told her,” I say when I’m in the wet sand, his hand still there on my back, so warm. “I told her we’re sexually active.” I say this like it’s a joke, but the sound of the words shows me nothing is funny. “I told her I’ve been doing it with more than one guy. You and my friend Taylor. And anyone else I can think of at school, for that matter. Including that one guy who sweats so much in our English class. You know who I mean?”

We’re ankle deep in the water now. It’s cold. I sit down.

Lie back. Arms out. Ankles crossed. Eyes closed. Let the waves try to crash over me. I’m half wet, and I know it

won’t be long before my clothes are full of sand and I’ll be freezing, but I don’t care.

“Yeah, I know who you mean,” Jesse says, and he plops down next to me sitting. “He’s kinda gross.”

Even sweaters need love,
I want to say, but the cold water feels too good and it’s caressing the sides of my face, filling my ears, this calm crash of the ocean.

The night before
he died, I made a pallet on Zach’s floor.

Things were bad by then, but Mom refused to see, and when I said something to Daddy, he said, “Zach and your mom always fight like this.”

And I had said, “Yes, this is more than Mom, Daddy.

Rachel’s gone too. I think he needs help.”

We all knew about the abortion, but no one, no one in the family could say the word.

That night the sun was gone and the curtains on Zach’s window blocked out the bits of stars. The room smelled sour, but I had been in there long enough I was used to it. I knew Zach was awake. I could tell by his breathing and the way he tossed and turned.

“We should go to the beach,” I said. “Right now. You and me. Sneak out and go to the beach.”

My brother didn’t answer.

I’ve thought what
we would have done if we’d gone that night.

It would have been way late, way late, like three in the morning, and we would have snuck out and driven to the beach. We’d have taken only our bathing suits, towels, and money for something at the 7-Eleven afterward.

The moon would have been high in the sky, and everything would have seemed like a midnight photograph, all purple-blues and grays, and even the suds coming upon the shore would have held color.

There would have been no sharks, no jellyfish, no Mom.

No dead babies, no sadness, no man-o-war.

Just me and my brother.

Just my brother and me.

Out in the water.

Happy.

“We heard him
dying,” I say.

It’s the third time I’ve said it.

I screamed it first to my father when he came running in the door and we had already cut Zach down and Mom had gotten his heart beating again said it a second time to the police when they questioned me and my eyes were so swollen I could almost not open them and this is the third time right now with the ocean trying to soothe me with salt and sand and foam that crackles in my ears.

“What?”

I can tell Jesse understood me, so I don’t repeat it. The words burn my mouth anyway. Overhead, the sun seems determined to toast my eyelids. But that’s okay, because maybe I will never leave this place.

“Did you know shark attacks can happen in less than knee-deep water?”

Jesse’s silent.

“Did you know that my daddy spoke at a funeral for a family with nine children. The youngest got electrocuted by a hair dryer. A little girl. Me and Zach, we were
heartbroken. They still go to church with us.”

I’m sinking in the sand, but I’m okay with it right now too. I’ve already tested the theory and you can’t sink to China.

(I would have tried to that night with my brother, Zacheus, too.)

“Did you know you can make soup from the periwinkles out here? They’re so beautiful.”

Jesse doesn’t say a thing. Just sits there with me, and when I look at him, finally, there’s a halo of light around his head.

Jesse lies down
next to me. He takes my hand in his. His fingers are warm.

“My brother was my very best friend,” I say. “You two remind me of us.”

“Who?”

“You and Lili remind me of Zach and me. Together.”

Waves crash. Water rushes up around us. I turn my head a bit and taste saltwater. “Is Lili your best friend?”

Jesse’s quiet. “My youngest brother is. Nate?”

I nod. Natey.

“When he was born, that was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I knew we’d be best friends right at that moment.”

I look at the sky. So blue. So blue.

“But me and Lili? We’re close.”

I don’t know how long I lie there, but when I finally stand up, I’m so covered in sand—and wet top to bottom—that I have to walk down the beach until I can find a shower.

“I’ll try to drip-dry before we get in the car,” I say.

I face the sun.
Keep coming, hot weather. Keep coming.

Out in the water, I see two people kiteboarding, their
kites (one yellow and one red) pulling them along through the waves.

My hair slaps heavy and sandy at my back. I itch from the salt and sand.

“I should know this,” Jesse says. “But why did you tell her that we’re together?”

I open my mouth again. “To feel alive.”

He nods like that’s an answer he understands. He laces his fingers through mine.

“We’re a secret,” I say. “Nothing to anyone—not even Taylor or Lauren. Not even Lili or Nathan.”

“I can do that,” Jesse says.

In the outdoor
shower, the wind blowing sand against my damp legs, Jesse kisses me, the water running down my face. He kisses my eyes, wipes the sun from my forehead, whispers words with that Utah accent. “You’re alive, London.”

We stay gone
until it’s time for Jesse to meet Lili at school.

I drop him off because I’m afraid Lili will know I kissed her brother, and even though she was encouraging it, she may not like it because she knows about Taylor.

I know about Taylor.

What am I doing?

I can’t help it.

I’ve gone crazy.

First I pushed my mother over the edge and I let her push me over the edge, though the truth is, Mom has nothing to do with my cheating.

How is Taylor
different from Jesse?

Taller.

A little more muscle-y.

Blond.

Soft-spoken.

But, the thing is, I need saving.

And maybe this stranger can do it.

And I can hold Taylor close too, figure myself out.

Because nobody has to tell me, I’m all messed up.

An accident you’re
in? It marks you on the outside, maybe. Scars your face or your skin—breaks bones, crushes skulls, leaves the body changed.