Falling for You (22 page)

“I’m glad she’s doing better.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Well”—I gestured toward the elevator—“I should get back to those deliveries.” I hated how strained it felt between us. I wondered if it would ever feel comfortable again.

“I know you must be really busy,” he said softly, “but do you have just a minute? To talk?”

It made me think of Nathan. Whenever I agreed to talk, it only seemed to make things worse. I couldn’t take another roller coaster of emotions.

“I can’t.” My eyes met his for just a second as I walked past him. “I’m sorry, Leo. I have to get going.”

And then I continued on with my afternoon, spreading love through the town of Crestfield. To everyone, it seemed, but me.

•   •   •

When I got home, I went right to the kitchen to make myself the last of the Top Ramen. Tomorrow was payday. The grocery store would be my first stop, right after the bank.

As the microwave did its magic, I went through the mail. In the past week we’d gotten second and third notices from all the utility companies, asking for payment. And just as I wondered what, if anything, I should do about that, the electricity went out.

“Perfect,” I muttered. I pulled my Top Ramen out of the microwave and put my finger in the bowl. Warm, but not hot. I fumbled around in the drawers, first for a flashlight and then for a fork.

Set with food and light, at least for the time being, I went to my room. Thankfully, my laptop was fully charged. I opened it and checked e-mail first. I kept hoping Mom would get in touch somehow. Dean probably had her on a tight leash, wherever they were. That’s what I really wanted to know—where were they? But there was nothing from Mom. Not that I’d really expected her to find a computer and send me an e-mail. She probably didn’t even know my e-mail address.

I did have an e-mail from Leo, though. He’d sent it just a few minutes ago. I opened it and found a video, along with a note that said:

Rae,

Consider this my Valentine’s card. Even though it’s all about Christmas. I know, that’s confusing. But since our date, I’m in a constant state of confusion.

Leo

I hit play and slurped my noodles as I watched the two of us being silly at the mall, before we’d found the evening dress that he’d insisted I try on. Leo handed me a cashmere sweater
with a price tag of $229. I accepted the gift with gratitude and adoration all over my face.

“It’s the perfect color,” I said to the camera. “And so unbelievably soft. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Yes, Rayanna, the periwinkle looks perfect against your skin. And the blue in your eyes, it makes them look so . . . ”

“Blue?” I quipped.

We laughed.

He’d added some soft, breezy piano music behind the film, cutting out when one of us said something cute or funny. It was good. More than anything, I noticed how genuinely happy we looked. Maddie had been right. We made a cute couple.

At the end, Leo used the clip of him and me, arm in arm, as he held the camera in front of us. He looked at me. “Best Christmas ever, Rae. Thank you.” I remembered how I’d felt when he said that. Because he’d said exactly what I had been thinking. And I didn’t know what to say after that. So I’d just smiled at him and said, “Yeah. Best Christmas ever.” Then we looked back at the camera as Leo had said, in a very deep voice, “Be sure to tune in next time, when we go diving for buried treasure at Pirate’s Cove!” I raised my eyebrows, and then the screen went dark. Just as I was about to close the window, white letters slowly scrolled across the black screen.

I MISS YOU, RAE. YOUR FRIEND, LEO

Was the message supposed to make me feel better? Because
it had the opposite effect—I felt such incredible sadness as I realized how much I missed him.

I desperately missed him.

And there, in my room, where I sat alone in the dark and cold, the pain came crashing down on me.

It sliced up every inch of my body.

Every breath was excruciating.

For days, weeks even, I’d been pushing all the emotions away, over and over again. All of it—the stuff with Dean, feeling abandoned by my own mother, dealing with Nathan, and losing Leo. Just stay busy, I’d told myself. Go to school, go to work, come home, keep a smile on your face, and don’t let anyone know you’re hurting.

I pretended the pain away.

Now the pain had become a monster, and there was no escaping him.

I crawled into my bed and sobbed into my pillow. The darkness filled me up so completely, I wondered if I’d ever see light again.

I cried and cried. With every tear, the monster only seemed to get stronger. His grip on me was tight, and never had I felt so helpless. It went on for a long time, until it felt like I was being smothered. I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped out of bed, ripping the covers off and throwing them on the floor.

“What am I supposed to do?” I screamed. “What do I DO?”

Now fury boiled inside me. I tore posters off the wall.
I pulled dresser drawers out and flung them on the floor. I threw the small trash can at the closet doors.

Something bounced out. Something small. And that’s when I remembered. Mom had given me a gift.

Holding the flashlight, I frantically searched the floor until I found it. As I tore the paper off the small box, my breathing loud and erratic, I wished for something good. I couldn’t bear to be hurt again.

For once, I got my wish. As I stared at the gift, it comforted me, and I felt the monster retreat. I breathed easier. It was a small, round, silver picture frame with a photo of me, my mom, and my grandma. Grandma, healthy and alive. Mom, her arms squeezing me tight, a smile on her face. And me, a little girl who, in that moment, smiled big and bright because she felt loved.

My grandma—such a light in my life, and so full of wisdom. Like my friend Ella.

“Life should have more moments like this,” Ella had said that night we ate hamburgers in the car, watching the lights in town.

Why
couldn’t
there be more moments like that? Why did it always have to be so hard?

My thoughts circled back to Ella having to move out of her home. To Maddie, a teenage mother. To George, in the hospital. All of them facing tough situations. And somewhere, out there, a person sent them flowers, hoping to light up their world momentarily.

I crawled to my bed, clutching the picture frame to my chest. Every muscle ached. My eyelids felt heavy, like I hadn’t slept for weeks. I picked up a blanket off the floor and clambered into bed. As I flipped off the flashlight, the darkness returned, but I didn’t panic. I told myself to hang on. A little bit of beautiful light had eventually found all those people.

Maybe, just maybe, it’d find me too.

poetry journal—february

A NEW DAY

Soft,

warm,

golden

light

reaches

through my

window

and wraps

its arms

around me

as if to say

you are

loved.

I smile,

caressing

the golden

light,

remembering

all that is

good

in my life.

Friends.

Work.

Flowers.

It’s amazing

how a little

light

changes

the

perspective.

a good reminder

I STOOD NEXT TO MY TRUCK AFTER SCHOOL, RUMMAGING AROUND in my backpack, trying to find my keys. A hand squeezed my upper arm. It was Nathan.

I took a deep breath and, as nicely as I could, said, “Hi. How’s it going?”

“Did you get my Candygram yesterday?” he asked. He didn’t look very well. He’d lost weight, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

“Yes, thanks, but you really—”

“It’s true, Rae. I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you. I miss us. Is there any chance we could try again? Or at least be friends?”

I stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. Maybe at one time I’d believed we could be friends, but not anymore. I didn’t know how to help him. And I didn’t have
room in my life for one more person to worry about.

He continued. “Things are so messed up. My mom and dad, they’ve separated. And it’s hell. My mom won’t stop crying. And I don’t know what to do, you know?” He looked up toward the sky as he ran his hand through his hair. “I need someone to talk to.” His eyes looked back at mine. “Don’t you get it? How much I
miss
you?”

I opened my truck door. “I’m sorry about your parents. But, Nathan, you need to find someone else to talk to. Can you call one of your friends from New York?”

He shook his head in disgust. “You don’t understand. I don’t have any friends there. Not anymore. She turned them all against me.”

Who was “she,” I wondered? Maybe he’d been Mr. Psycho with someone else, too. I wasn’t about to ask.

“Look, I have to go, or I’m going to be late for work.”

He reached behind me and slammed the door closed. I managed to pull my hand away just in time or it would have been smashed.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he yelled. “That’s all I want to do, I swear!”

“Do you see what you’re doing right now?” I said. “This is why. You scare me when you’re like this, Nathan.” My voice got quieter. “It’s over. I’m sorry. Nothing’s going to change my mind.”

His jaw tightened and he grabbed my arm. “I need you! I can’t . . . I don’t know what to do.”

People were looking at us. I tried to be calm. “Just . . . do your best. Take it one day at a time. Some days, one hour at a time. That’s what I do. That’s all anyone can do. Sometimes life sucks. Believe me, I know. We just have to get through the best we can.” His grip loosened. I tried to smile. “You can do it, Nathan. You can. Look. You’re already doing it, right? Give yourself some credit.”

He dropped his hand and took a deep breath. I backed into my truck, fumbling for the handle. “I really have to go. Maybe you should go see the school counselor. She could help you.”

His eyes turned hard again. “I don’t want . . . ” His voice trailed off for a second. “Never mind. Obviously you don’t care.”

“I do, but I can’t—”

“No. You don’t. And, God, how I wish I didn’t.” And then he was gone.

•   •   •

At work we took down the Valentine’s Day decorations and gave the shop a good cleaning. With a few bouquets left over, Nina told Spencer and I we should take one or two and find someone to give them to, so they didn’t go to waste.

After I finished up my shift, I went to the bank to deposit my check and then I took a bouquet to Ella. I hoped she’d be happier about getting flowers this time around.

The lady at the front counter gave me an
Oh, isn’t that sweet look
as I made my way to the elevator. When I got to Ella’s
room, I knocked. It took her a while to answer, and when she did, she had her robe on.

“Oh no,” I said. “Were you sleeping?”

She shook her head slightly. “In bed. Trying to sleep. Not doing a very good job of it.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to bring you these. A late Valentine from me to you.”

Her hands reached up, shaking slightly. As I placed the bouquet in them, our hands touched. Hers felt cold.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you want me to call someone?”

“I’m fine, dear.” She set the flowers on the counter a few steps behind her. Then she came back to the door. “I haven’t been feeling very well, but there’s nothing anyone can do. It’s just old age, I suppose. You know what I was thinking about while I tossed and turned?”

I leaned on the door frame. “What?”

“Poetry.”

“Sara Teasdale?” I asked.

“Yes. My son took all my books. I wish I’d asked him to leave my old copy of
Flame and Shadow
. Do you know I’ve had that book for more than sixty years? Her poetry has always been such a comfort to me.”

I smiled. “I love poetry as well. I actually write my own. Sara Teasdale I’m not, but I love writing it. And reading it too.”

“That’s wonderful, Rae. I find poetry so comforting. A dear friend, Ruth, gave me
Flame and Shadow
during an especially
difficult time in my life. It meant the world to me, and when I told Ruth as much, her response really stuck with me. She said, ‘I’m glad you like the book. The joy on your face is like a poem, and I’m happy to have played a part in writing it.’ ”

“Yes. You know, my grandmother always said, ‘The road to happiness is paved with good deeds for others.’ ”

It made her smile. “She taught you well, Rae.”

“You remind me of her, actually.” I wanted to ask Ella if I could come in and sit with her for a while. Make her some chamomile tea and tell her a story, so she might sleep.

But then she said, “I think I can sleep now. Thanks for the flowers. You’re a good girl.”

“So are you, Ella.”

She reached out and stroked my hair before she gently shut the door.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I whispered.

welcome home

AFTER VISITING ELLA, I STOPPED AT THE GROCERY STORE BEFORE heading home. When I pulled up to the house, the lights were on and Mom’s old Buick sat in the driveway.

I flew through the door, grocery bag in hand, anxious to see Mom. She and Dean were watching television, like they’d never left.

“Where have you been?” I asked, trying desperately not to sound as angry as I felt. “And why didn’t you call?”

Mom sat there, cuddled up next to him. She rubbed his arm and gave me a weak smile. “I’m sorry, baby. We had some business to take care of in Vegas. We were gone longer than we thought. But we’re back, and everything’s all taken care of. Right, Dean?”