The Opposite of Hallelujah (15 page)

“Do you?” I asked, scrutinizing his expression and coming up with nothing.

“Sure. Girls like the couple thing,” Pawel said. “It’s easier to get over a person than to get over being in a couple with that person for you guys.”

“Okay.” I scoffed. “
First
of all, ‘girls,’ plural, don’t ‘like’ anything. Some
people
like being in a couple. Boys and girls. Not all girls are the same, and not all boys are the opposite of what you assume all girls are.”

Pawel held up his hands in surrender. “Hey! I’m not trying to be sexist. I like being in a couple.”

“You do?” I asked tentatively, trying not to seem too invested in the answer.

“Sometimes,” Pawel said thoughtfully. “If it’s the right girl.”

“When was the last time you
were
in a couple?”

“Four months ago,” Pawel said. “Tori.
Not
the right girl, by the way.” But he was still smiling, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

“Why did you guys break up?”

“Well, I found out I was moving,” Pawel told me. “She didn’t want to do the long-distance thing.”

“Long-distance?” I repeated, scrutinizing him through squinted eyes. “You moved, what? Twenty minutes away by car?”

He nodded. “She thought it would be too hard to stay together if we were at different schools. Her exact words were ‘I might meet someone new, you might meet someone new … why put ourselves through all that?’ ”

“Sounds like an excuse,” I said gently.

“It was. But I get it. It wasn’t like we were soul mates or whatever.” He gave a dismissive wave of the hand.

I looked straight ahead, afraid of meeting his eyes. “You believe in soul mates?”

He seemed grateful for the slight topic shift, giving me a wry smile and saying, “I haven’t entirely ruled it out. What about you?”

“I object.”

“To what?”

“The idea of soul mates.”

“You don’t believe in soul mates?” He seemed surprised.

“I don’t just not believe, I
object
,” I said forcefully.

“Why?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You sound so offended.”

“I am offended! The very idea of soul mates is offensive.”

He settled back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “This should be good.”

“The concept of one true soul mate is tied up in the idea of predestination,” I said. It was like he’d pressed a trigger; I wanted to just shut my mouth already, but I couldn’t. “The idea that basically your life is completely mapped out, from birth to death, and there is no possibility for deviation. Choice doesn’t matter. I know some people find the idea of soul mates romantic, or comforting, but to me believing in soul mates means absolving yourself of any responsibility for your own happiness. If a relationship doesn’t work out—whoops! It wasn’t meant to be.
Fuck
meant to be.” It was a speech I’d given before.

“Wow.” He lifted his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” I was so embarrassed. That wasn’t a speech I usually gave to guys I liked because it made me sound sort of crazy, but with everything I had on my mind lately, it was hard not to get worked up about questions of fate.

“Okay then. There’s no such thing as soul mates. Roger that.” He gave me a little salute, but it didn’t look like my outburst had bothered him, which was a relief.

“I’m not saying there’s no such thing. I’m saying that if there is such a thing, I’ll be really pissed off.” My moral outrage could erupt like a solar flare, but I always found myself trying to backpedal, to downplay my own position so that I wouldn’t seem hysterical. I often wished
I could be more confident in my opinions if they were going to pour out of me like that.

“I’ll let the big guy upstairs know that the next time I go to confession,” he joked.

I smiled. “You really think God is listening?”

Pawel shrugged. “I don’t know. I like to think so.”

“Do you think he ever talks back?” I was genuinely interested in his answer. I’d never really thought much about God, but ever since Hannah’s return and Father Bob’s visit, the idea of him—or her, or whatever—had burrowed into my brain, leaving a little groove of interest behind.

Pawel shook his head. “No. But maybe that’s because
I’m
the one who’s not listening.”

“Pawel?” I asked suddenly. “Do you know what a vocation is?”

“A vacation? What, like a cruise?”

“No,” I said, laughing. “
Vo
cation.”

He laughed along with me. He’d heard me right the first time. “Yes, I do. It’s a calling from God to do his work. Like, become a priest or a nun.” I tried not to flinch at the word “nun.” “Why?”

The door at the back of the DMV swung open and I thought I glimpsed Hannah right outside, talking to her evaluator. I stood abruptly and shook my head. “No reason,” I said. “My sister’s done, I’ll see you at school.”

He stood, too, shifting awkwardly in my path like he didn’t know what to do with his body. I dodged past
him, turned around, and gave him a little wave. He waved back and smiled. I thought for a second that maybe I should’ve introduced them, Hannah and Pawel, that it was rude that I hadn’t, but it just seemed like asking for trouble.

“You done?” I asked Hannah, strolling up to her. She didn’t look happy.

“Yes,” she said, stiff as always. “Let’s go.”

We walked quickly to the door and out into the bright sunlight. I shielded my eyes and went for the passenger-side door, until I realized that Hannah was doing the same thing.

“You can drive,” I said. “Take that fancy new license for a spin.”

“I didn’t get a license,” Hannah said, opening the passenger door with the keys and then dropping them into my hand.

“Wait, what?” She slid into the seat and shut the door without responding. I groaned. If she’d failed the test, it meant we had to come back in two weeks. Just my luck.

“Didn’t you pass the test?” I asked once we were both buckled in.

“No.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Can we go home, please?”

“Yeah.” I started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. “I wouldn’t worry too much. You can retake the test.”

“I know.”

“I failed the first time, and look at me now!” She looked so miserable I couldn’t help making a little attempt to cheer her up.

“I’m going to retake the test.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” She stared into her lap.

“Seriously, what is your deal? People fail that test all the time.”

“I know that,” she said sharply. But being Hannah, she was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little upset.”

“Hannah, it’s not the end of the world,” I said.

“I didn’t fail it the first time I took it,” she said quietly.

“That was a long time ago, and you’d probably just finished driver’s ed,” I said. “Maybe you should’ve practiced more before coming here.”

“I’ve never failed a test before,” Hannah said, gazing out the window. It was almost as if she wasn’t talking to me when she said it.

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” I turned onto our street.

“Who was that boy you were talking to?” Hannah asked, abruptly shifting topics. I swerved a little on the road. “Was that Derek?”

“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “He’s just a friend from school.”

“A good friend?”

“A new friend,” I said.

“I thought all your friends were girls,” she said, squinting at the windshield.

“We’re not all nuns,” I snapped.

Hannah sighed. “I know you’re angry at me, but I’m having a hard time figuring out why.”

“Oh yeah?”

“We’re sisters,” Hannah said. “You can’t stay mad at me forever.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No!” Hannah put her hands over her face. I thought she might cry, but when she removed them a few seconds later, there were no tears. Instead, there was a look of determination I’d never seen before. “I would appreciate it if we could talk about this like adults.”

“I don’t have anything to say.” I pulled into the driveway and put the car in park.

“It seems like you have plenty to say, Caro,” Hannah said, unbuckling her seat belt. “You just prefer to be passive-aggressive. Do you really think being rude to me will make me go away?”

“No,” I said, getting out of the car. She did the same, staring at me over the white-hot roof. After a moment of silence she shook her head at me and walked off toward the house.

11

“I have a project for you,” my mother announced over breakfast that Saturday.

“What is it?” I demanded, putting my fork down and staring at her. My father shook his head but made no attempt to jump in, and Hannah wasn’t even at the table; she was upstairs, apparently suffering from a nasty cold. She’d been up there since the morning before, and I hadn’t seen her at all.

Mom raised her eyebrows at me. “Excuse me? What is
your
problem?”

“You always have a ‘project’ for me, Mom,” I said. “All
week long it’s school, homework, bed, repeat. The weekends are for
relaxing
. I want to sleep in and watch TV and hang out with my friends. Is that too much to ask?”

“I’m sorry that the everyday tasks of taking care of the house have fallen on your overburdened shoulders, Caro,” Mom said, sarcasm dripping off her tongue. “But we all have to chip in.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just hire a cleaning lady,” I said.

“I don’t need a cleaning lady,” she said, turning back to her eggs on toast. “I have children.”

“Exactly,” I said. “There’s more than one of us now. Shouldn’t Hannah have to do stuff, too? She’s home all day, every day. She doesn’t even have a part-time job or take classes.”

“She’s working on it,” Dad chimed in. “Now that she has her license, she can find a place to work until she can reenroll at Loyola.” He said it like it was a done deal, but from the way Hannah had been talking about it the other day, I could tell it was their plan, not hers. Had they even asked her what
she
wanted? If I was her, I would’ve resented the interference, but Hannah didn’t put up a fight about much. Maybe she just didn’t have it in her.

“When did Hannah get her license?” I asked, surprised.

“Didn’t you take her on Thursday?” Dad asked.

“Yes, and she failed the test,” I told him. Mom and
Dad were both staring at me now, looking completely baffled. “Didn’t she tell you that?”

“No,” Dad said slowly.

“You mean she
lied
?” A wicked smile crept over my face; I couldn’t help it. It was so out of character for sweet, saintly Hannah to lie to my parents. I was torn between being impressed and finding it a little pathetic.

“I’m sure she didn’t
lie
.” Mom jumped in, always quick to defend her baby. “She just neglected to give Dad the details.”

“I asked to see the license,” Dad said. He sounded like someone had just let the air out of him. They wanted badly to believe in Hannah, and she made it pretty easy for them. It must’ve been a real disappointment to find out she was human. “She told me it was upstairs and she’d show it to me later.”

“Why didn’t
you
tell us she failed the test?” Mom asked me.

“Oh, no, you are not pinning this one on me.” I shook my head. “I’m not Hannah’s accomplice. I did what you told me to, I took her to the DMV. I’m not responsible for anything else.”

“God forbid,” Mom muttered.

“If it makes you feel any better, she probably only lied because she didn’t want to disappoint you,” I said. “You know how she puts so much pressure on herself to be perfect.” Mom and Dad nodded, and we dropped the subject.

Well, not entirely.

“Hannah did say that she saw you talking to a boy from school at the DMV,” Dad said slyly, not looking up at me, like it was no big deal, like he was barely interested. My parents were so nosy, and so bad at espionage it was kind of sad.

“Are you going to tell us who it was?” Mom gazed at me in interest.

“Who are you, the conversation police? It was just a new boy from school.” I was being pouty, which even I found unpleasant, but I couldn’t help it. Their curiosity was annoying, their insistence that I bond with Hannah infuriating. I just wasn’t in the mood for Happy Family Time.

“What’s the boy’s name?” Dad asked, cutting to the center of the issue, the way he always did when arguing with me became boring.

“Pawel,” I said. “We have a bunch of classes together, and he was getting his license, too. Only he passed the test,” I added meanly.

“That’s an interesting name,” Mom commented.

“It’s Polish,” I said.

“So he’s Catholic.” My mom smiled to herself. She loved to do that, act as though I was going to marry every boy I ever spoke to. I think mostly she did it to annoy me, but there was a bit of girlish hope in it. “That’s good news.”

“Odds are I’m not going to marry a Catholic, Mom,”
I warned her. I didn’t get what her hang-up was. We barely even attended Mass now that I didn’t go to St. Robert’s anymore. What did it matter if I married a Catholic? “You should just come to terms with that now.”

“Whatever,” she said, dismissing the comment with a wave of her hand. Mom had a streak of if-we-don’t-talk-about-it-then-it-doesn’t-exist in her. “Is he cute?”

“Hannah said he was,” Dad said. He had a goofy,
let’s get Caro
smile on his face. They just loved this game. “She said he was boy-next-door handsome. Not very tall, but tall enough for Caro.”

“Dad, she spent the last eight years living exclusively with women, most of whom were around before ancient man invented
language
,” I said. “She probably thinks the mailman is hot.”

“He does have a certain je ne sais quoi,” Dad said, turning to Mom with a conspiratorial wink. “What? You don’t think so?”

“You think you’re so funny,” I said, wrinkling my nose at him.

“If you’re honest with yourself, so do you.”

Leave it to Mom to get us back on track. “Do you think he’s cute?” she asked.

“Who? The mailman? Not my type.”

“You know what I meant,” she said, laughing. In that moment it felt totally normal—nice, even—to be sharing something with my parents. It wouldn’t last—it never
did for long—but it made me remember how much I actually liked Happy Family Time.