The Opposite of Love (14 page)

33

ROSE

Rose might as well have been Rapunzel from
Tangled
locked up in that tower, totally isolated. Except for school, she couldn't leave the house. After an hour on the phone with her shrink, Mr. and Mrs. P. decided she was a “danger to herself and others.” Not in the traditional loaded-weapon kind of way, but more in the keep-that-girl-locked-up kind of way. And definitely keep her away from that no-good Chase kid.

The day after Hursula stormed in on them, she dragged Rose over to the synagogue office to force her resignation. At first Mrs. Rosenberg had greeted them with her wide horsey smile, setting aside the stack of tzedakah money she'd been counting. But once Hursula started explaining Rose's fragile mental state, Mrs. Rosenberg's smile melted, until finally she just stood there with her lips pressed into a thin line. Becca stepped into the office just then, but stopped short. She looked like she was trying to catch Rose's eye, but Rose kept her face down. With a sigh, Becca grabbed a couple rolls of paper towels and left.

Rose could feel the isolation taking its toll. Like an addict, she felt herself going through withdrawal. Chase withdrawal. Love withdrawal. Attention withdrawal. She felt physically ill. She could hardly even eat. She caught him for moments at school, but it wasn't the same. No afternoons at the temple day care. No five-minute make-out sessions in the coat closet. No long, drawn-out talks. No being held in his warm arms for hours on end. No falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

At first, Rose wanted to cut class just to be with him, but Hursula dropped in the front office to check her attendance every day, so it seemed too risky. And now when he saw her, all he seemed to want to do was fantasize about these fairy-tale solutions that would never materialize.

“The Steins could take you in.”
Yeah, but the Parsimmons would never let them.
“Be extra good—and they'll back off this.”
You don't know them. Once they make up their mind, it sticks. They think they're protecting me.
“I'll go talk to them. I'll explain.”
That what, you were tutoring me in math? That you thought you'd save me the trip to your house? That you love me?

Rose could barely keep her nose above water. Just shuffled along, home to school, school to home. Slept at home. Slept at school. Slept at home. Ignored Chase and Becca so that they would go away and let her crawl back into her turtle shell where she wouldn't have to feel anything ever again.

So when Becca barreled across the quad to confront her, the accusation caught her by surprise. “You self-centered bitch!” she hissed loud enough for Rose to hear, but no one else. Rose had been sitting against the eastern wall, knees drawn to her chest, trying to keep her mind blank.

Instantly, Rose's senses switched on hyper-alert. They'd been dulled for so many days that now the light seemed too bright and the sounds too loud. “What are you talking about?” She could hear the slamming of locker doors, the swooshing of shoes padding down the halls, and laughter, laughter everywhere, coming at her from all sides like she was the butt of some joke.

“You stole the tzedakah money!” Becca yelled down at her, louder this time, her hoop earrings large enough to bang against her chin when she moved.

“The
what
money?” Rose pushed herself to standing and faced Becca directly, realizing once again how short Becca was, even with two-inch platform shoes.

“All you ever think about is yourself. Poor Rose, stuck with rotten parents. Poor Rose has to quit her job.” Becca stood close enough that Rose could smell the bubblegum she used to cover the cigarette stink. “You never get off your pity potty long enough to notice the rest of the world.”

Rose felt like she'd woken up in class after being called on for an answer—not knowing the question or the topic or the page. “Becca, I—”

“I know it was you. I saw you watching Mrs. Rosenberg count the tzedakah cash box. The money went missing three days later.”

“
What?
” Rose started to step backward, but bumped into the locker behind her. The air felt suddenly thick, and the room too crowded. “Becca, I can't set one foot out my front door without the parent police breathing down my neck.”

“That hasn't stopped you before!” Becca snapped. “You have a one-track mind. You want to get your parents back at any cost. I know you.” Becca's eyes narrowed. “You don't care who you hurt. In fact, I don't think you care about anyone but yourself.” She turned on her heel and started to walk away. “If you cared about anyone else, you'd realize that they're going to blame Chase,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Someone saw him in the office the day the money disappeared.”

34

CHASE

If Chase had known Rose's mother would fling open that door at a quarter past one, he
never
would have knocked on her window. If he had known her parents would make her quit the job, he never would have so much as thought about breaking a single one of Rose's stupid rules. If he had known that money would go missing from the temple office, he never would have gone up there to look for extra green paint. The day-care kids could have painted blue grass or purple grass. Green grass was overrated.

But of course, he knew none of that.

Chase cornered Rose before Math Analysis. She walked with her head low, her long silky hair draped over her face. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty computer lab. “Ouch.” She wrapped her fingers around his, prying them loose.

“Relax, Rose,” he said softly. He hadn't meant to scare her. “You've been avoiding me. I just wanted to talk for a minute.”

She backed away from him. “Haven't you messed things up enough?”

“Hey, I'm sorry about that. Stupid, I know.”

“Beyond stupid.”

“I
said
I was sorry.” An edge crept into his voice. “That doesn't mean you have to completely cut me off. It's not all or nothing, you know.”

“It is to me.” Rose looked through him, her eyes glassy.

“What is wrong with you?” He pulled her closer again. “You're not
on
anything, are you?”

“It's none of your business,” she snapped. Then, softer, “No. I'm not on anything. I'm just not sleeping. I can't kick the flu. I shouldn't even be here right now—I'm probably contagious. But staying home in that hellhole is not an option,” she said. “And I can't turn my mind off at night. Maybe I'm being punished for all the crap I've pulled. Maybe God is punishing me.”

“Don't you dare buy that bullshit. Who's feeding you that crap? Your parents?” Chase asked, but Rose shrugged. “They may say that, but that doesn't mean it's true.”

“It doesn't mean it's
not
true either.”

Chase sighed, releasing her arm. “Rose.” A dangerous thought caught in his mind. He tried to shake it free. “You didn't take that money, did you?”

As if he'd flipped a light switch, her face changed. Tightened. Withdrew. Hardened. “Are you
serious
? You're seriously going to ask me that?” The dullness faded from her eyes, and they scared him.

Chase sort of shrugged. He hadn't known she'd be so offended.

“You
bastard
.” She grabbed on to his shirt now, with two fists. “
You
probably stole that money. You thought you'd get out of it by blaming me. Well,
screw you
.” Each word burned through his skin and right into his soul.

“Let go of me.” Chase felt his adrenaline pumping and that scared him too. He tried to breathe deeply, in and out, but the urge to shove her away built and built.

“You and your freaking ‘I want to be a better man' crap. It's bullshit.” She beat on his chest now with her fists. “You are who you are. And you are what you do. I know I'm shit. But maybe you're shit, too.”

Chase clenched his jaw. He needed to run, to pound his feet against the pavement, to channel that adrenaline toward something other than her face. He stepped back toward the door, reaching for the knob.

“You can't handle it, Chase?” Rose had that counter-attack look. Where had he seen that before? “I thought you said your dad raised you not to be a wuss.”

Chase felt the sting of that as sure as if she'd backhanded him across the face. “I don't want to hurt you,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“Hurt
me
?” she cackled, following him, not letting him escape. “I think you've already done that.”

That was when he pushed her. Not a hard push—just a get-out-of-my-way-and-leave-me-alone push. The adrenaline had kicked in, though, so it hit her harder than he'd intended. She stumbled back a little. He thought he caught a glimpse of shock in her eyes, and that look made him feel about as small and weak and insignificant as a dead flea. Then acceptance.

“
Screw
you,” she said sadly. “You're just like all the rest.” She pressed her fingers to her temples and mumbled to herself. “This is why I never love anybody.” Then she brought her eyes back up to his. Now he saw hate, and that made him want to crawl into a locker and die. “Don't you ever freaking touch me. I don't care if you took that money or not. Just leave me alone. I never want to see you again.”

Chase stumbled backward himself. Shoved open the door. Rose lunged for the trash can and puked. She brought her head up to look at him through steely eyes. “And I hope you get my freaking flu. Maybe God will punish you too.”

35

CHASE

Candy got wind of the missing money before Chase even stepped foot off campus. Man, those women at Salon Joli could talk.

After the fight with Rose, Chase took off from school running. Running past the lockers. Past the C building. Past the campus security.

Chase barged through the front door just as Candy hung up the phone. “That was the attendance office, reporting you AWOL.” She hadn't even set down her purse, just stood holding on to it with two hands, her knuckles turning white. Chase slammed the door behind him and went for his room. Candy blocked his path. “Hey.”

“Leave me alone.” He tried to step around her.

“You were right, Chase. I need to stand up and be your mother.” She planted herself directly in front of him. With her that close, he could hardly see her face, she was so short. “I've let too many things slide. Your grades … when you're capable of so much more, the way you disrespect me when you get pissed, letting
that girl
come here at all hours of the night.” Something about the way she said “that girl” got under his skin. “So you tell me. What did you do with the money?”

A roar ripped out of him that could've rivaled a caged lion. Candy stepped back. He could see her face now, showing surprise, if anything. “Why do you assume I took that money?” Chase howled.

Candy's eyes flicked from side to side, as if she was trying to decide what to do. Chase felt like a helium balloon, hovering over himself, watching himself get angrier and angrier. He wanted to yell down at himself to knock it off, to go take another run, to do something to calm down, but it was as if he was yelling from too far a distance. He couldn't quite hear himself. Or maybe he didn't really
want
to hear himself.

Chase moved away from her, pacing back and forth across the length of the kitchen/living room/dining room. Angry as he was, it only took him five strides to get from one end to the other. Rose's words rang in his ears.
Don't you ever freaking touch me
! Chase tried to remember. He hadn't hurt her, had he? He
wouldn't
hurt her, would he? He loved her.
Just leave me alone. I never want to see you again.
She couldn't mean that.

He'd opened himself up to her in a way he never had before. That was special. At least to
him
. Suddenly, everything came into focus. Maybe it hadn't been special for
her
. Maybe she'd snared him in her trap just like she had done to every other fool who'd written her name on the bathroom walls. She said he was different. But maybe that was part of her game. “Bitch,” he muttered out loud.

Candy chose that unfortunate moment to decide her course of action. “What did you call me?” She hesitated for a moment, then barreled on ahead. “This is exactly what I mean. Your lack of respect.” Chase continued his pacing. “Look, Chase. I know you've been trying hard to control this temper you've got. That's why I don't understand why you'd take that money—”

Chase hunched over and screamed into his stomach like he was in searing pain, his fists balled. “
Mom!
” he yelled through gritted teeth. “Don't you know me at all? Don't you owe me the courtesy to get my side?
No!
You just assume I did it!”

Again the hesitation. Her voice grew quieter. “So tell me. Tell me what happened.” Her hand reaching for his shoulder.

“Don't touch me!” He twisted away from her. “Nothing happened! Okay? All I know is that money got stolen.”

“But they saw you there—”

“I
work
there!” He turned to her, pain and hurt welling up. “Have I ever stolen anything in my life?”

Silence.

“A stick of bubblegum? Candy from the drugstore? Any freaking thing?”

“I … ”

“That's right. You don't know. Because you weren't there. And if you were there, you were talking to your friends with me tagging along like a little freaking puppy dog.” His breaths came out in little puffs now. “But if you had been paying attention, you would know that I never in my whole pathetic life have ever stolen a damn thing! If you knew me, you wouldn't accuse me of this.” He crouched over again, this time feeling tears rush in behind his eyes. “But maybe nobody knows me.”
Not even Rose
.

“Maybe that girlfriend of yours took the money,” Candy back-pedaled. “People talk about her. Say she's no good.”

Chase grabbed her then. By the shoulders. Grabbed his own mother and shook her. “
Shut up!
” he yelled. “
Don't say that!
” She looked like one of those bobblehead dolls, eyes wide open and goggling, her head moving back and forth.

She brought her hands to his, holding on like it might steady her, and she dug her nails in. “
Stop it!
” she screamed back. “You are out of control!
Stop it!
”

So he did. But not before he backhanded her. Across the face. He wanted her to stop yelling, which she did. He watched her, slow motion-like, twist in the direction of the blow, spiraling almost. Her hands immediately clutched her face, before she even hit the ground. Her cheek turned a stinging red. She lay there, breathing heavily but still, as if she was playing dead. He wondered if she'd tried that trick with Walter. But he wasn't Walter. He
wasn't
. Then why did he feel like him?

With a sudden jolt, he was back in his body, no longer watching from the helium safety above. And Jesus Christ,
it hurt
. He hurt. His chest ached. His soul ached. And oh-my-god—he had hit his own mother.
Oh. My. God
.

For the longest second in history, Chase stood staring at his hands. They did not look like his own. Large. Rough. Calloused, as if he'd spent his first sixteen years roofing houses with Walter instead of holding a No. 2 pencil. His hands were shaking now, as if they understood what they had done. They had betrayed him.

For all his striving-to-be-a-better-man crap, he'd just turned into the guy who beats on his own mom. Chase wasn't sure whether to run or to cry. But then he realized his cheeks were wet. He was already crying, the pain seeping out his eyes. Candy cried too, peeking up at him at first like a rabbit from a den, then relaxing visibly, like she knew the rage was over.

“I'm sorry, Chase,” she started, holding out her hand. “You are out of control.” She hesitated, and then went ahead and said it. “Just like your father.”

Chase couldn't breathe. It was like an air bag had exploded into his chest in a 90-mile-an-hour collision. Head on. His brain buzzed from lack of oxygen.
Just like your father.

Candy spoke almost to herself, pulling her bare knees inward. “I don't know what to do.” Chase let himself fold and crumple to the floor so that he was sitting an arm's length away from her.

“I'm sorry for the things I let happen to you and for the things you had to see. I'm sorry for trying to be your friend instead of your mother.” Candy gathered herself up so that she crouched, rocking back on her heels. Her cheek looked redder by the minute, like a boiling lobster. “But now I see you with this anger, this rage, that's bigger than you are. And it scares me.” She wiped her eyes with one finger, trying to catch the mascara before it rolled down her crimson cheek in a black trail.

Chase whispered, “It scares me too.”

“I'm gonna say something that might piss you off, Chase, but I don't care. I'm your mother and I need to say it.” She didn't need to worry. Chase felt deflated, limp, like his bones had turned to mush. “I think you might be better off living with Walter.”

The mention of his name was like scraping a match to the matchbox. Only today the match was wet. Chase expected a flicker, a flash, a fire, but got nothing. Rose didn't want him anymore. No reason to stay for her. He deserved to lose Rose. She did not need a guy as messed up as him in her life. They thought he took money from the synagogue. He'd probably be fired from the day care. No reason to stay for that. The only reason to stay was Daisy … and Daniel.

“He's sober now. He's got ten months sobriety. I called him. We talked.” Candy paused for a moment, like she was waiting for a pat on the back. Chase just stared at her. “I mean, he's still Walter. He's no saint. He's got a short fuse. But now that he's pulled himself together a little, maybe he can help you figure yourself out.”

“You'd send me there?” If he could feel anything, he would have felt worry. Dread. Fear. But he couldn't feel a damn thing.

“If he's the same, you can come right back. But if he's different … if he's grown up now, maybe it'd be good for you.”

“I'm sorry, Candy—Mom.” His voice sounded flat.

“I know. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help you.”

“What about Daisy? I watch her more than you do.”

Candy looked embarrassed by that, or maybe it was just the ever-deepening red on her cheek. “Then I guess I'll have to grow up too, won't I?”