In This Moment(89)
“I called the house phone looking for you and Adam told me.”
“Then you know that it’s over, yeah?” My stomach tightens. I don’t want to talk to Sophie about this.
“But I don’t know why. I don’t know how you feel.” Now she sounds more like a thirteen-year-old.
“The why is because I’m an ass.” I knock my head back against the closet door. “And I feel like I’ve been chewed up, swallowed, and then spit back up.”
“Like regurgitated puke?”
I laugh because, disgusting as it is, regurgitated puke sounds about right. “Something like that.”
***
One day, I think catch a glimpse of her walking across campus. My heart bucks and for a second I can’t breathe right, then I’m rocketed in motion—running after her, carelessly pushing people out of my way. It turns out to be someone else. The girl is shorter than Aimee. She has dark brown eyes and a narrow nose that hooks downward at the end. She looks at me like I’m crazy and I wonder if she might be right.
A little while later, in a not-entirely-coincidental coincidence, I bump into Mara coming out of the campus bookstore. We exchange stilted hellos while I search her features for any traces of Aimee.
“How is she?” I try to sound casual, like my life doesn’t depend on the answer.
“She’s good. She’s seeing someone.”
The sentence steals my breath.
It knocks me on my ass.
Fuck me. So this is what being eviscerated feels like. My brain flashes to that scene in Braveheart where Mel Gibson is lying on the cross with his entrails in a puddle at his feet.
Mara catches the expression on my face and quickly puts her hand on my arm. “No! Not like the way that you’re thinking. God no! I meant that she’s seeing a counselor. It’s a good thing. Good for her. Good for my parents.” She narrows her eyes. “Good for you maybe.”
“Huh,” I say like the sun didn’t just collapse and go supernova.
Life moves forward. Daylight comes. It goes. I’ve started to read at night. It helps me sleep. Maybe it does something to my brain, or maybe I like it because books remind me of Aimee.
Sometimes I dream about the two of us lying on our backs in my truck bed. I feel her hand in mine, her warmth pushing up against my body. Then the wind comes in and it picks her up and tries to carry her away from me. But I don’t let go of her hand. I can’t. I cling to that kite string like nothing will stop me. And when I wake up, I wish that I could keep dreaming.
On most days, Sophie and I talk. Sometimes she wants to tell me about our mom and I listen to that. Other times she talks about teenage girl stuff—school, boys, the dog—and I listen to that too.
“I emailed dad a few days ago.”
We’re on video chat and I can see her eyes get bigger. “You did?”
I nod my head.
“And?”
“It’s good. I think we’re both going to try harder,” I say. “Sophie, I still haven’t called Mom and I can’t make any promises, but maybe. Maybe. I know that as your big brother I’m a miserable fuck-up and my only excuse is that I’m still working things out.”
“Well, Cole… When we screw up on the court, our volleyball coach always tells us that as long as we’re still breathing, we’re still trying. And then he usually tells us to get over ourselves.”
I laugh. “That’s not bad advice.”
“His other little tidbit of shared wisdom is to punch every day in the face.” She shrugs. “I actually find that one a little more helpful.”
What can I say? The kid is cool.
***
I tell myself that I’m not going to text her again. Then failing to take my own advice, I text her.
Who cares? It’s not like she’s going to respond.
One night I send her a picture of the sky after practice. More fake book titles.
It’s okay because she never gets back to me.
Until she does.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cole
I’m in bed reading when my phone chirps. I expect it to be a text from Sophie. Or maybe it’s one from Adam, detailing the myriad of ways that I’m a pussy for staying in on a Thursday night.
When I see her name, my entire world stops spinning.
What’s it about?
At first I’m confused. What’s what about? Then I realize that she means the book title that I sent her earlier—Angels and Demos. It only takes me a half a minute to come up with something.
It’s a buddy comedy about a group of infielders from a California baseball team as they follow their passion to make it big in the music business.
My fingers itch as I type out a second text.