Her Name in the Sky (21 page)

She sneaks downstairs around one in the morning, no longer able to ignore the hunger in her stomach. She finds leftover pizza in the fridge and eats it cold while she slumps against the counter. In the darkness, her house looks strange to her, like a pattern of shapes she doesn’t know.

She opens the backdoor as quietly as she can and tiptoes out into the yard. Her bare feet brush against the grass, her arms shiver in the cool night air. She tilts her head back until she’s face to face with sky and stars. When her neck starts to hurt, she lies down on the ground, grass and dirt molding into her back, and folds her hands together over her stomach.

Is it okay?

The question bleeds forth from her and she imagines it rising into the sky, delivered on wind and air and atmospheric pressure until it reaches God.

Is it wrong? Were we wrong?

She lies there, bleeding into the sky, until the sky starts to bleed red with morning.

She doesn’t hear from Baker at all on Saturday. Her texts go unanswered; her calls go to voicemail. She spends a lot of time lying in bed, pretending to read. But the words in her books mean nothing to her, and after awhile, she picks up her laptop and stares at Baker’s Facebook page like she’s praying to it. 

“You are being such a lard,” Joanie says when she steps into her room.

“I’m tired from the beach.”

“Mom says to make sure you have a nice dress picked out for Mass tomorrow.”

“Ugh.”

Joanie shrugs her shoulders and eats the rest of the cookie in her hand. “Easter Sunday, champ.”

Hannah sits through Easter Mass the next morning without actually absorbing anything that’s going on. She follows along with the readings and the Gospel mostly out of habit, and the only thing that strikes her is a selection from t
he Gospel of John, which the lector reads in a solemn voice:

On the first day of the week,


Mary of Magdala came to
the tomb early in the morning,

while it was still dark,
and saw the stone removed from the tomb.


So she ran and went to Simon Peter


and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them,


“They have taken the Lord from the tomb,

and we don’t know where they put him.”

And Hannah understands that even though today is supposed to be about the Resurrection—about hope, and rebirth, and ren
ewed faith—the only thing that makes sense is Mary Magdalene’s confusion and despair. 

The lines for Communion are much longer than usual, swelled as they are with the people who come to Mass only on Christmas and Easter. Hannah watches as the faithful process to the front of the church to receive the Eucharist, all dressed in their Easter Sunday best, some of the moms looking harried, some of the teenaged children looking annoyed. A familiar person comes into view in the long line on the right side of the church, and Hannah recognizes Nathan Hadley, dressed in a handsome Oxford shirt and with his kind eyes visible even from across the room. Mr. and Mrs. Hadley stand in line behind him, but Baker is not with them.

Hannah’s stomach knots in on itself. An irrational part of her fears that Baker confessed everything to her family and they locked her in her room, too shamed by her transgressions to let her come to Easter Sunday Mass. Hannah’s heart pounds hard when it’s her family’s turn to move along the pew and join the Communion line. She feels like the Hadley’s eyes are on her, like the eyes of the whole congregation are on her, like they can all tell what she’s done and what she’s struggled with in her heart.

“Amen,” she says when Father Simon raises the Eucharist in front of her. And then, for some reason, even though she was trained in how to passively receive the Communion bread years ago, she reaches up to snatch the Host. Father Simon raises the Host higher, almost as a knee-jerk reaction to her grabbing for it. His face shows his surprise, and Hannah’s face flushes with embarrassment when she realizes her mistake. She lowers her eyes and cups her hands together, and Father Simon places the Eucharist on her left palm. She walks back to her pew with added shame, and it weighs her down through the end of Mass.

She doesn’t sing the Recessional hymn. Neither does Joanie, who stands bored next to her while Father Simon, the deacon, and the altar servers walk back up the center aisle with a magnificent Crucifix leading the way, balanced precariously in one of the altar server’s hands.

Her parents file out of the pew after the song has officially ended—her mom doesn’t condone leaving anytime before that—and she and Joanie shuffle behind them, smiling and nodding at the St. Mary’s classmates they see.

She spots Nathan standing in a corner of the entrance hall, his hands in his pockets and his head down like he’s trying not to be seen, and she steps around families with babies and old retired couples to go to him. 

“Nate!”

His face lights up as soon as he sees her. “Hey, Han! Long time no see.”

He pulls her into a hug and she holds on for a second too long.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his brown eyes, so much like his sister’s, studying her carefully.

“Yeah, just haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know, it’s been way too long. How was Destin?”

She hesitates for a split-second. “Awesome. It was awesome.”

“Good. I can’t believe y’all are about to graduate.”

“Yeah. Um. Where’s Baker?”

“Sick, I guess.” He shakes his head and puts his hands back in his pockets. “She hasn’t really seemed like herself all weekend. It’s weird—she usually loves Easter Mass, but my mom tried to wake her this morning and she just kept saying she thought she was going to throw up.”

Hannah’s stomach knots in on itself again. “Oh. Jeeze. I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah. I think she’s just having anxiety about school. You know how worked up she gets about grades and everything.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, I’ll tell her you said hi.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Bye, Han.”

He turns to go find his parents, but she calls his name before she can think about it.

“Nate!”

“Yeah?”

She stares at him, tongue-tied, wishing she could tell him something that might help Baker, or wishing she could ask him how to help herself. He waits politely, his expression kind, but all she manages to say is, “It was great to see you.”

He smiles. “You too. Enjoy these last few weeks of school. They’ll be the best ones you’ll have.”

Saw Nate at church just now. He said you were sick. Can we please talk?

Baker never replies.

Hannah’s mom spends all afternoon cooking the Easter ham. Hannah and Joanie’s Aunt Ellie and Uncle Joel come over, towing their children, Colton and Sydney, behind them. “We brought the green beans,” Aunt Ellie says, kissing Hannah and Joanie hello at the front door. “And the mutants,” Uncle Joel huffs, nudging Colton and Sydney inside.

“Uncle Joel smells like beer already,” Joanie says, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “He better not get drunk and start interrogating Luke again.”

“Luke’s coming?” Hannah asks.

“I already told you that, dum-dum. He didn’t want to pick between his mom and his dad so Mom said he could come here for dinner.”

“He’s in for a treat,” Hannah grumbles, eyeing Colton and Sydney as they run circles around the coffee table and shoot water guns at each other.

“Not in the house!” Uncle Joel yells from the kitchen.

“Oh,
now
you want to discipline them,” Aunt Ellie says.

Joanie sighs and sets Aunt Ellie’s gift of white wine on the decorative table near the front door. “I’d better get a tampon,” she says. “You want one?”

“What?”

“To ward off Colton. You know he won’t come near you with that stupid water gun if you dangle a tampon in front of his face.”

“Are you serious?”

“Didn’t you see me working that trick at Christmas? He tried to sneak-attack me, so I whipped a tampon out my purse and told him ‘Up yours.’ He ran away screaming.”

“Oh my god, Joanie, you are insane,” Hannah says, pushing past her to take the green beans to the kitchen.

“Take the stick out of your ass, Hannah,” Joanie calls after her. “It’s Easter Sunday.”

Luke wears a button-down shirt and a handsome navy tie to dinner, prompting Hannah’s mom and Aunt Ellie to gush over him. “Oh, Luke, you sweetheart!” Hannah’s mom says, hugging him. “You didn’t have to dress up!”

“It’s a special occasion, Mrs. Eaden,” Luke grins. “With a special family.”

“
Stop
,” Joanie beams, hitting him.

“Besides, how often do I get to wear a nice tie?”

“Every day at school,” Hannah mutters. 

“You are correct, Han,” Luke says cheerily, “but how often do I get to wear this awesome
blue
tie?”

“You look great,” Joanie says, her cheeks pink and her smile bright. “C’mere, come say hi to my dad. He’s hiding in his office.”

“Be right back,” Luke smiles to Hannah’s mom and Aunt Ellie.

“He is just the cutest thing,” Aunt Ellie says after Joanie tugs Luke out of the kitchen. “With those curls and dimples….If I was 20 years younger, I’d pounce on him.”

“You’d have to fight Joanie,” Hannah’s mom laughs. “She’s crazy about him, hm, Han?”

“Yeah,” Hannah says half-heartedly.

“Now what’s up with your love life, Miss Hannah Banana?” Aunt Ellie asks. “How’s the boy scene?”

“Oh, nothing to report,” Hannah says, averting her eyes.

“What? A beautiful girl like you?”

“She never tells me anything about it,” Hannah’s mom says. She opens the oven and places a tray of rolls inside. “Like her dad that way.”

“I tell you things,” Hannah protests.

“You tell me things about your friends,” her mom says, “but never about boys.”

“Because there’s nothing to say.”

“That’ll change in college,” Aunt Ellie says. “Boys are so much more mature by that age. And college boys are
hot
.”

“How about Wally, though? Hm?” Hannah’s mom prompts. “Does he still have a crush on you?”

“We’re just friends, Mom, for the millionth time.”

“You should see the way this kid looks at her,” her mom tells Aunt Ellie. “He’s absolutely crazy about her.” She turns to Hannah and pushes her hair back behind her ears. “But Hannah’s not interested, are you, Han?”

“Is he ugly?” Aunt Ellie asks.

“
No
,” Hannah says exasperatedly. “We are friends. That’s it. We’re in the same group of friends and it’s great and that’s all I need. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Take it easy, Han, we’re just curious!” Aunt Ellie says, patting her hand over Hannah’s wrist. “Your mom and I are middle-aged and married and sometimes we like to hear about your fresh young love life!”

“I have a paper to do,” Hannah says, pushing her stool back from the counter. “I’d better start on it before dinner.”

“Make sure your sister and Luke aren’t upstairs,” Hannah’s mom says. “Joanie knows the rules.”

“Got it, Mom.”

“And put a smile on your face. I made brownies for dessert.”

“Okay,” Hannah says, already halfway toward the stairs.

She hears Aunt Ellie talk about her just before she climbs the first step. “Just as touchy as she was when she was little,” she says in a low voice.

“She’s not touchy,” Hannah’s mom counters. “She’s just feisty.”

Hannah feels the trace of a smile on her face, but then Colton appears on the stairs and sprays her with a water gun.

“So, Luke,” Uncle Joel says through a bite of ham when they’re all seated at the table, and when Colton and Sydney have already been fed and instructed to play in the backyard, “what is it you’ll be doing this summer? You working? You have a job? A real job?—not just ‘working’ as a camp counselor or something prissy like that?”

“Ease up, Joel,” Aunt Ellie says, smacking his hand. 

“He’s fine,” Uncle Joel says, gesturing at Luke with his fork. “He’s not sweating through his shirt yet.”

“Well, actually,” Luke says confidently, “I won’t have time to work this summer because I’ll be training at a running camp.”

“A running camp.”

“Yes, sir. I got a track scholarship to Spring Hill, so I have to go to Alabama to start training with my coach.”

“Huh,” Uncle Joel says. “Well. That’s nice. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“And what about the rest of y’all’s friends?” Aunt Ellie asks, tipping her wine glass towards Hannah, Joanie, and Luke. “Where are they going to school?”

“Our friend Wally’s going to Georgia Tech,” Luke says. “He’s way smart—like great with math—and he got a partial scholarship there for doing so well on the SAT.”