“I have no idea. But her and Zack both definitely didn’t want me there.”
“I wish I was there with you. I’d go kick Zack’s ass for you.”
“Only Zack’s ass? What about the woman?”
“I’d kick her ass using Zack’s limp body as a battering ram.”
I smile, because she definitely would.
We talk for a while longer and I feel a little better when I hang up. At least I’m starting to feel less like it’s something I did.
***
I need to clear my brain of Zack and trying to figure out what happened. Aunt Claire won’t be home for hours, so I decide to take the time to look around in the attic. I’ve snooped through most of the house already, the attic is my last hope to find something about my sister. Aunt Claire showed me the staircase when I first moved in but told me that there was nothing to see but boxes and things in storage. Although she and I have made a lot of progress becoming more comfortable with each other, we still don’t talk openly about my mom or my life before Mom died. It’s always very shallow. I just wish we could both lay our cards on the table. I’m tired of playing solitaire.
The attic is neat and organized. No surprise there. Aunt Claire keeps her life very orderly. Exactly the opposite of how Mom was. There are a lot of boxes. Most are labeled with things like, “Nursing school text books” or “Size 6 winter clothing”. In the corner behind a bunch of other boxes I find one labeled, “Childhood photos and papers.”
Unlike all the other boxes it isn’t taped closed. It looks like Aunt Claire has been in this box recently. Maybe when she learned Mom died she went back and looked at old memories.
Even though I feel increasingly guilty for violating Aunt Claire’s trust with each snooping session, I decide to look inside. She never put any restrictions on where I went in the house or what I touched. Never said I couldn’t look at anything. I keep trying to convince myself I’m not doing something wrong, but I know better.
The box is full of loose papers and pictures. It isn’t neat and organized like the rest of Aunt Claire’s life. There are dozens of school pictures of Aunt Claire. Her and Mom looked a lot alike when they were young.
I find stacks of old report cards— lots of As, perfect attendance and glowing praise from teachers. I wonder what Mom’s say. I can’t imagine they had the same comments. Mom was definitely much more of a rebel than Aunt Claire— that’s one thing I know.
At the bottom of the box I find a large manila envelope labeled “Hospital Records”. Maybe it’s about Aunt Claire’s husband. She doesn’t talk about him very much, but she told me he had cancer and was very sick. I know he was in the hospital for a long time before he died.
I open the envelope, finding yellowed pages. Aunt Claire’s husband only died five years ago. As I flip through the papers, a knot in my stomach forms finding a set of baby footprints. The kind the hospital gives a mom when her baby is born. It’s labeled “Baby Girl A.”
I don’t know if the footprints are mine or my sister’s. I trace the outline of the tiny feet with my finger. The feet are as small as a doll’s, they don’t seem big enough to belong to a real baby. I hadn’t thought about whether we were born full term or not. The miniature footprints make me think we must have been born premature.
Behind the footprints is a document titled “Discharge Note.” I read it slowly learning more than I thought any box would reveal.
Baby Girl A was very sick. She was in the hospital for two months before she was allowed to go home. The note talks about surgery and procedures and things I don’t really understand. I consider asking Allie if she would ask her dad about the procedures since he’s an obstetrician. But I haven’t told Allie anything about my family and I’m not sure I’m ready to let anyone but Ash in on my secrets.
Nothing in the records identifies my sister. Mostly it’s a pile of medical jargon I don’t understand. All of it documenting just one baby— Baby Girl A.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway seizes me with panic. A peek out the curtained window finds Aunt Claire, her car door already opened. Shit. I’ve been up here for more hours than I realized. I hastily drop the papers back into the box and close it, shoving it back into the corner. I dart downstairs, hop into bed, and pretend I’m sleeping when Aunt Claire cracks the door open to check on me.
Chapter 28
Nikki
I don’t hear from Zack the rest of the weekend. By Monday morning I’m a combustible mix of anger and hurt that I think might explode by the time I get to see his face in sixth period English. But I never get the chance. Instead, I stare at his empty seat for forty-six minutes, anxiously waiting for him to walk in.
By Tuesday, my nerves are on edge with worry. This time, he shows up to class, although it might have been easier if he didn’t. My heart speeds up at the sight of him, and I actually feel relief that he’s okay. There are two empty seats in the room. The seat he’s been sitting in every day, directly in front of me, and one on the opposite end of the room. Our eyes lock when he enters just before the bell rings. Then he walks to the other side of the room and sits down. He never looks back, not even when he walks out the door at the end of class.
A week later it’s become abundantly clear that he no longer even wants to be friends. He’s going to just continue to ignore me and pretend nothing ever happened. And I guess I’ll do the same. But it’s easier said than done. Unlike him, what I felt was real.
Concern and worry turn to anger. I’ve replayed the whole morning we last spent together a million times in my head. I’m convinced I did nothing wrong. Yet I can’t help but wonder what set him off. There’s something that flips a switch inside of him that makes him retreat. Like a ticking time bomb, only I have no idea what will make it go off.
I’ve lived a life of not knowing what I was walking into each day. The last week has had me thinking a lot about Mom and her disease. The highs and the lows, and the lack of anything in the middle. Mental illness is easier to accept than someone that just decides they’re done with you.
***
“There’s a party tomorrow night at Keller’s house,” Allie says, as the bell rings signaling the end of lunch. “His parents are going out of town and next week is his eighteenth birthday.” I already knew because Keller had told me about it every day this week. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I don’t know, Allie. I wasn’t really planning on going.”
“I know. That’s why I’m picking you up. So you can’t tell me you’re going to go and then not show up.”
“But…” I try to think of an excuse of why I can’t go, other than the obvious one.
“Seven,” she warns and walks away leaving me no time to argue.
***
It’s six o’clock on Saturday evening and I’m getting ready to go to a party I really don’t want to go to. Aside from the fact that I’m in a mood Aunt Claire dubs melancholy, there’s a good chance Zack will be there since Keller is one of his best friends.
I ignore the bell when it rings, because it’s too early for it to be Allie. But a few minutes later Aunt Claire knocks on the door and let’s Allie into my room.
“Hey. I’m sorry, I thought you were coming at seven.”
“I was, but I thought I’d come early.” She plops on my bed and looks around the room. Her brows furrow at all my packed, neatly organized boxes, yet she doesn’t ask any questions.
“Well, I can be ready fast. I don’t take that long.”
“No rush. I thought maybe you’d want to talk.”
I look at her questioningly and she raises her eyebrows in response. We both know what she’s talking about. It’s been the ten ton elephant in the room for the last two weeks. Allie’s a smart girl. Observant. No doubt she’s watched me stare at Zack’s back during English class, tears threatening at my eyes almost daily.
“Is it that obvious?” I sigh, feeling relieved to talk about it with someone other than Ashley. Don’t get me wrong, Ash is awesome, but she doesn’t know Zack, so I can’t really get her perspective on things. Other than her Zack bashing from hearing a one sided story.
“That you two are both miserable? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious.” She smiles.
“I think you’re mistaking indifference for miserable on Zack’s part.”
“Nope, I’m pretty sure he’s miserable.”
“Why would he be miserable? He’s the one who stopped speaking to me.”
“I don’t know, Nikki. But I see the way he looks at you. He’s crazy about you.”
“Well, he has a funny way of showing it.”
“I know, I wish I knew what was going on in that head of his. But I know he cares about you. I think he’s just still struggling to accept Emily’s death.”
“My mom died around the same time as Emily. I struggle too. Some days are better than others. But I don’t take it out on people I care about.”
“My Dad is an obstetrician at the hospital where Emily’s Dad works. I asked him how her Dad was after the accident and he said he didn’t talk about it at all. People handle things in different ways.”