Gasp (Visions) (19 page)

“Never fight against a riptide,” Sawyer says wisely. “Swim perpendicular to it, parallel to the shore.”

“Very good,” Ben says. “Now learn how to swim.”

“Anyway,” Sawyer says. “So by the time we get out of the riptide we’re really far from the ferry and from you guys, and Ben’s trying to conserve energy because he’s got to keep my face above water, and I’m trying not to freak out and make it worse.
Then
,” he says with a sardonic smile, “we make a brilliant decision to get Ben’s phone out and call for help. So he tries to keep his life vest above water and I try to get it out, except my hands are numb. I manage to get the phone out without it getting too wet, and as I’m trying to hold it above the water and get to the phone page, I fumble it, and it bounces off Ben’s vest and plops into the water. And I am a loser.”

“Dude, seriously. I kinda figured that would happen. But we had to try. We weren’t going to make it.”

Sawyer nods. “It was pretty frightening.” He pauses
and looks up. “I really thought Ben was going to have to let me go any minute. We were both freezing and exhausted and running out of hope.”

Trey, Rowan, and I are spellbound. I’m gripping my fork so tightly my knuckles are white. “What happened?”

Sawyer leans forward. “But then there’s more lightning. And poof.”

“Poof,” Ben says, nodding.

“Poof?” Trey asks. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means poof! The sky
lights up, and there, not forty yards away, is that runaway lifeboat,” Ben says.

“No way,” Rowan says under her breath.

“Yeah way,” Ben says.

“Hey, let’s not bring God into this,” Trey says.

I laugh because I’m a dork, but Ben ignores the joke and continues. “So then I have to decide if we should try to rest for a few minutes first by floating on our backs, and then strike out, or if we just go for it so it doesn’t get farther away. And ultimately, I don’t want to risk losing it, so I get Sawyer to kick his lazy-ass feet and hang on to my vest belt, and I flip over and start swimming breaststroke like my life depends on it, which it does, out in ten-foot waves trying to catch a lifeboat.”

“It took us forever,” Sawyer says. “I watched the helicopter leave—it never swept the light out as far away as we were. By the time Ben got us to the lifeboat, he was practically dead. I climbed in and hauled him up. He saved my life.” He turns and looks at Ben. “You saved my life, man, and I will never forget it.”

“Now we’re even,” Ben says lightly.

There’s a quiet moment while
that
sinks in.

“But how did you guys survive the night?” I ask. “It was cold, and you were wet—how are you not frozen or hypothermic or dead?”

Ben and Sawyer exchange a glance and a small smile. “Body heat,” Sawyer says with a shrug. “Skin-on-skin contact.”

Trey stands up, his chair hitting the wall. “What?” he screeches. “That is . . . holy crap,” he says, softer. “That’s a picture, is what that is. Mmm.”

“It was super-romantic,” Sawyer says.

I bite my lip.

“Naaah, we’re just kidding,” Ben says after a beat. “The lifeboat had supplies in it. Blankets and hand warmers. Stuff like that.” He grins as Trey sits back down. “But I did get to see his junk.”

“Easy there, sailor,” Sawyer says. “Don’t spoil the surprise for the ladies.”

Rowan laughs and then pouts. “I never get to see junk. Not fair.”

“Fake boyfriend,” I cough into my hand.

“Shut it,” Rowan says. She turns to Ben. “So was there a flare gun or whatever? How did you get to shore?”

“Well, the helicopter was long gone by the time we got into the lifeboat. So we rested for a while first, and then we went into supersleuth mode and decided that we were out of immediate danger, and that life in general would go much smoother for Sawyer if his parents didn’t ever find out he was on a ferry wreck on a school day. And my parents are out of the country, so I wasn’t too worried about any news getting back to them very quickly.”

Sawyer looks at me. “And I figured the last thing you’d do would be to go to my parents to tell them I’m missing, and that you’d go to Kate first to see what she thought, and she’d most likely want to wait to say anything until we knew for sure what was happening, because of the way my father tends to overreact.”

“You know us pretty well,” I say. “Though I’ll bet Kate was on the verge of telling them when you guys landed on the doorstep.”

Sawyer nods. “Yeah, I wouldn’t blame her. Anyway, we decided the best plan would be to paddle to a pier or a jetty, put our wet suits back on, ditch the lifeboat, and walk to the beach like we were out just having fun.”

“By then the rain had stopped,” Ben says, “and the wind started calming down. It was just a matter of time
before the lake would be easier to manage. So once we rested and got warm and ate some weird freeze-dried food and crackers we found in the lifeboat, the sun was coming up, so we could see where we were heading. We started paddling toward that bird sanctuary out there on the harbor north of Chicago. When we got close, we put our wet suits on again and I made Sawyer wear the life vest all the way into the park in case he fell headfirst into a bucket of water or something.”

“Well played,” Sawyer says, and they do some secret fist-bump handshake thing I’ve never seen them do before.

“We hailed a cab not far from the beach,” Ben says. “Sawyer used the driver’s phone to call your landline, but just got the recording that Demarco’s Pizzeria is rebuilding and will reopen this fall.”

“We didn’t hook up the residential number when we moved here since we all had cell phones,” Trey murmurs. “And those numbers aren’t listed.”

Ben nods. “I’m just glad I still had my wallet. It was a bit wet after the phone ordeal, but obviously the credit card still worked, and that’s all that matters.” He checks the clock on the wall and frowns. “The driver dropped us at my dorm and waited so we could quickly change into some clothes, and then took us straight here.” He looks at Trey and reaches for his hand. “We couldn’t wait to get here. It was so frustrating how lost we were, not having
anybody’s contact information memorized. I always had it there in my phone. And now it’s at the bottom of Lake Michigan.”

I notice Ben checking the time, and reluctantly I stand up, because we need to go. “Sawyer, do you want to go to school or just go home?”

“I want to go where you go.”

Ben says, “My only class today starts in ten minutes, so I think I’m skipping one more day.” He grins. “You want me to hang out here and wait for you?” he asks Trey. What a guy.

“Um, no.” Trey looks sidelong at Rowan. “You wanna be Mom and call in sick for me?”

Rowan smirks. “How much is it worth to you?”

Trey drops Rowan, Sawyer, and
me at Kate’s. Sawyer brushes his teeth and grabs his backpack, and we take his car to school. Trey takes a sick day and spends it with Ben. Mr. Polselli checks in with me and I give him a bright smile. Lunch is intimate, just Sawyer and me, and we hold hands across the table as he tells me all the places on his body that hurt so I can feel sorry for him. In sculpting, Ms. White asks me if Trey and I got the news we were hoping for.

“We did,” I say, and I can’t stop smiling. I decide to work extra hard on my vase today to thank Ms. White for being lenient. And maybe I’ll even pull off a better grade on it than Trey, which would rock.

After school, Sawyer drops Rowan and me off at our
house so he can go home, rest for a bit, and catch up on his homework.

And there’s my dad, sitting in the living room with the shades drawn and the TV on at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Rowan gives me a look of doom. My stomach drops. The stretch of good times is over. Did I do this to him?

He looks up when we walk through the room on the way to our bedroom. “Girls!” he booms. “How was your day?”

I freeze. And slowly turn to look at him. “Fine,” I say.

“Good. Rowan, your mother wants you to help her in the backyard. She’s planting a garden so we can grow our own stuff for the food truck.”

Rowan’s eyes widen. “Oh. Okay.” She drops her backpack in the bedroom and escapes out of here like a sidewinder.

Dad turns the TV off and reaches back to open the blinds behind the couch. “I was just killing time waiting for you to get here.” He’s shaved and showered and nicely dressed as usual for the past few weeks. “We never finished talking yesterday.”

“Oo-kay,” I say. I slide my backpack off my shoulder and lower my body to perch on the edge of the couch next to him.

“Your mother told me I need to communicate more,
and that I should tell you that we, ah, we like your friends. And that it’s nice to have them come over, and at first we weren’t used to having them in the house, but now it . . . it’s nice. Because then we know where you are, and . . . well. She told me to tell you that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So you like Sawyer now?”

He shifts uneasily. “I . . . yes, I think he’s okay. Your mom said he’s not living at home.”

I tilt my head. “Oh, I get it. He’s having problems with his parents, so you like him more because of that.”

“That’s not what I meant. That’s not fair. I tell you something nice and you throw it in my face.” He fidgets with his hands and I can tell he’s getting defensive.

I choose to let it go since he seems to be trying to be a better . . . whatever. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m glad you like our friends.”

“Also,” he goes on, his face pained, “you told me I needed to own my mistakes, and I’ve been thinking about that. And even though your mother has been telling me that for years, hearing it from you seemed, well, different. It made me feel . . . ashamed.”

I don’t know where this is going, and I don’t know what to say.

“I decided I’m going to go see somebody. A therapist,” he says. “Your mom’s coming with me.”

“Oh,” I say. “Oh. Well, that’s great. I mean, I hope . . .” I
trail off. What is the appropriate response to this statement? I don’t know.

“Yeah,” Dad says, his gaze drifting to the window, where we can barely see Mom laughing with Rowan and digging up the lawn. “I hope it’s good, but I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Sure. Of course.” I want to fall through this couch and through the floor and through the earth’s crust and disappear. “Well, thanks for telling me.” My body aches to stand and walk away, but my butt is glued to this cushion.

“And so, thank you. And for not saying anything to Trey and Rowan. I appreciate that. I—I think I’m going to tell them soon, but I want to ask the therapist first.”

Who ARE you?
I swear I am in an alternate reality right now. There’s no way this can last.

“That brings me to my next question,” he says. “Why did you ask me about the health stuff?”

My head grows light. “No reason,” I say. I shift my weight farther onto the cushion, not because I want to relax and chat, but because I’m teetering on the edge of it and could fall at any time.

“Why did you ask me about visions?”

I glance at his face and see him looking earnestly into mine. And I still can’t read his expression. Is he asking me because he wants to confess that he has seen visions too?
Or because he’s worried that I have, and he wants to put me in an asylum?

“I don’t know,” I say, scrambling. “I guess I’ve seen you staring off into space, and you don’t drive much, and we’ve got the whole mental illness thing in the family with Grandpa Demarco, so I thought I’d . . . ask.”

He regards me thoughtfully. “Are you asking because of . . . anything personal that’s happening with you? Do you need to talk to a doctor?”

Ugh. I wish he’d just answer. “Well, I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He chuckles. “I said I was sorry about that. It really was a joke this time.”

I feel the residual resentment boiling up again. “Yeah, well, you’re very different lately and hard to read, and you’re telling jokes now, so I guess I just don’t know how to talk to you.” I can feel my face getting hot.

He looks down. “I know. I’m sorry.” He scratches his head and says softly, “Losing the house and the restaurant . . . losing all of that stuff . . .” He shakes his head. “I was suffocating at first. But then suddenly starting from nothing became this opportunity . . . I don’t know. Like the chains came off my wrists.” He rests his head in his hands for a moment. “I hated the hoarding, but I couldn’t stop it. I was compelled to continue. I couldn’t break the cycle.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls
out the thimble from the Monopoly game. He shows it to me. “This is what I chose to keep from the remains of the fire. The only thing.”

I don’t tell him that Trey and I watched him take it.

“When I was a kid, I used to play Monopoly with Mary and my dad. Whenever we landed on the income or luxury tax spaces, or had to pay to get out of jail, instead of paying the bank, we put the money in the middle of the board under the thimble. And if you landed on Free Parking, you won it—you got to take the money. It was the absolute best when it happened on your last turn before you ran out of money, facing all those houses and hotels in the Marvin’s Gardens row. Hitting it just right—it gave you new life. A chance to change the game, my dad said.” He looks at me. “All of that junk and the emotional baggage was dragging me down. And losing everything in the fire . . . well, that turned out to be my Free Parking. My chance to change the game. So even though it’ll probably be really hard, I’m going to take it. I am taking it.”

I nod, absorbing it all. It’s amazing how much happens to the people around me when I’m not paying attention.

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I was a pretty good dad back before the dark days. I want to get better at being your dad again.”

I had no idea my dad could speak so eloquently, and I’m
actually moved by this. Jules is reluctantly impressed. I place my other hand on top of his. “I just want you to feel good,” I say. “Every day.”

He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Me too.”

And as we sit there, contemplating changes, the biggest question in my life remains. I still don’t know for sure if he has seen a vision—he never answered the question. I still don’t have any of the answers I need.