The text was from Grandpa: Are you still at the museum?
No. Out. I'll be home late.
Avoiding them right now felt like the best way to punish them. I knew I shouldn't have been mad at my mom. She had an illness. One I realized now that she obviously needed help for. But my brain and my emotions weren't playing well together. Because I was mad. I was mad at everyone really. Cooper, obviously. Grandpa, for not being able to talk Mom into coming and then not coming himself when he couldn't. Dad, for forcing it to happen at all when I hadn't earned it. I leaned my head back, letting it hit the wall. That sent a painful jolt through my already aching head. I rubbed my temples and thought about getting some aspirin from the medicine cabinet in Cooper's bathroom but couldn't find the energy to stand.
I hadn't shut the window all the way, and a slight breeze played with my hair. I wondered if I should call the police. Had Cooper gotten in an accident? My mind wanted him to have a really good excuse for tonight. He would have a really good excuse.
My mind was also conjuring up something I had tried my hardest not to think about. But all that hurt I had pushed deep down inside me was rising to the surface as this new hurt filled me up.
Last year. The fateful night on the beach. Cooper and I had been hanging out after celebrating his one millionth win. Justin and Rachel hadn't been able to make it to the after-party for one reason or another. But it didn't matter. Cooper was high on life and his smile felt like the center of mine. I had realized, quite suddenly in that moment, that I lived for his smile. That every time I saw it, my own smile couldn't help but appear. And I knew then and there that I'd do anything to see it. Happiness bubbled in my chest all fizzy and intoxicating. "We're good together," I'd said.
He'd met my stare, and his smile slowly fell away. I thought it had been because he was recognizing the seriousness of the moment, of what I was about to say, so I'd barreled forward. "I think I love you."
His expression went darker, and then I knew. He didn't feel the same way.
He'd punched my shoulder playfully and said, "You too, you're a great friend."
I hoped the dark night hid my red cheeks. I managed to keep the sting in my eyes from turning into tears and I forced myself to laugh. "You should see your face right now. Did you think I meant as more than a friend?"
His face went from horror to levity faster than I'd finished the sentence. He laughed too and let it go as easy as that.
I was pulled out of last year's memory by a car door shutting out front, followed by laughter. It was crystal clear through the open window.
"I had fun today," Cooper said. "Thanks for the surprise."
"Of course." That was Iris. "Thanks for coming so last-minute. I'm sorry about your phone."
"It's okay. I'll try the rice thing."
Cooper must've started walking away because Iris said, "Hey! Don't I get a hug or anything?" There was a pause and then a squeal. Obviously Cooper had picked her up in a hug. I forced myself not to cry. I was too mad. I couldn't let hurt take over.
When her car drove away, I stood up and tugged down the bottom of my dress. Why was I still here? I could just climb back out the window and confront him the next day, when my emotions were more reined in. I didn't.
Cooper walked into his room and flipped on the overhead light. Then he let out a startled yell followed by a laugh. "You scared me."
I didn't respond.
"Did you miss me?" He took in my dress. "Wow. You look hot. Did you have a date tonight?"
Was he really asking that? He forgot? "No. I had that whole art show thing. Nothing big."
His smile slid off his face and his brows went down. "No, that's tomorrow."
"Really? Huh. I guess nobody told all the artists and guests who showed up tonight." My voice was like ice.
"You said it was on the twenty-first."
"Today is the twenty-first, Cooper."
"No, it's the twentieth, right? Saturday?"
I snorted out an insincere laugh. I wanted to rip down all the pictures from his wall and shred them to pieces because the anger throbbing in my chest was so intense.
He shook his head. "Is it really Sunday? I'm a total jerk. My phone fell into a tide pool today. It's completely busted. You haven't been texting me at all this week. I'm not used to zero reminders about things."
He was blaming this on me? Something washed over me. It started at my scalp and poured down my body in a numbing wave. It wasn't exactly peace, but it was acceptance. Resolution, maybe. "I'm done," I said, and I found that I truly meant it.
"I must've lost a day when I was sick," he continued, without acknowledging what I'd said. "It's summer. The days all blend together. Plus, I think Iris said it was Saturday this morning. She must've been confused too."
"Oh, I'm sure she was so confused."
"Why was that dripping sarcasm?"
I held up my hands in surrender. "No reason, Cooper. I'm done."
"What does that mean? Why do you keep saying that?"
"This one-sided thing isn't working. I can't do it anymore. Have a good life." I either had to climb out the window and look like a major buffoon with my short dress riding up to my waist or walk by him out the door he was still blocking and maintain my resolve.
I sensed it deep in my chest. I could walk by him.
He didn't move when I reached the door. I looked up at him. His eyes were pained. It cracked my heart a little more.
"I'm sorry, Abby. Please don't walk away like this. Let me make it up to you." This was the Cooper that could normally get me to do anything. His pleading eyes, his charming smile, his persuasive voice. It didn't work this time.
"Cooper. Move."
"Abby, please don't leave like this. How was the show? Does your mom hate me for not picking her up?"
"She didn't come."
He pushed his fingers against his closed eyes. "Oh no. I'm so sorry. I'm a huge jerk. The biggest one in existence."
"Move," I growled.
He reached out for my hand and I yanked it away violently. He wasn't used to that from me, I could see it in his surprised expression. I didn't ask him to move again. I pushed him aside and fled.
I made it to my car and drove down the block before I let the tears come. And they came.
THIRTY-TWO
Mom and Grandpa were waiting up for me when I got home. Mom was a mess. Her eyes were puffy, her makeup washed away. I didn't want to hear another round of apologies. It didn't seem to matter what I wanted tonight, because apologies were what I got.
She collapsed on me, her hands around my shoulders, her face in my neck. "I'm so sorry."
"I don't want to talk about this tonight." I pushed her off. I never pushed her away, and now anger and guilt pressed against my chest so hard that I couldn't breathe.
Mom let out a sob.
"You need help," I spit out.
She nodded. "I know."
"I need to go to bed." I knew I wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. I really just needed to get out of this room before I said more things that I could never take back. I whirled around and stormed down the hall.
Grandpa, who hadn't said a word, followed after me.
"What?" I snapped.
"Do you need to talk about it?" His voice was calm, like that would make this all okay.
"I need to be left alone."
"You're mad."
"Yes, I'm mad!"
"You should be. I would be."
"Good. Because I am."
"I'm sorry she couldn't make it."
"I'm mad at you, Grandpa! You!"
"I couldn't leave her."
"Really? Really? That's the excuse you're going with? You. The one who's always trying to push her to do more. This time it was too much?"
"I'd never seen her quite this bad, Abby."
"Then maybe you could've asked Elliot to stay with her. Maybe you could've left her for just thirty minutes and come and shown me some support! This was an important night, and it's like you didn't even care about me."
"I care about you. You know that."
"Well, you certainly didn't show it! Now please get out of my room." I knew half of this tirade was for Cooper, but at least half of it was for my grandpa too, so I didn't call him back when he lowered his head and left.
Somehow yelling at him didn't make me feel any better. My head was pounding, and my eyes felt like they were on fire.
I should've waited until I had calmed down to send an email to my dad. But he deserved some of this anger too. The email was short, but true to how I felt.
Dad, never ever lie or bully someone into including your daughter in anything again. Let her earn her own achievements.
I hit Send and closed my laptop. Then I went to my bathroom, downed two aspirin, and crawled into bed.
My phone woke me the next morning with lots of buzzing. I sat up. I'd slept in my clothes and makeup. My eyelashes felt clumpy. I looked at my phone. There were exactly thirty-two texts from Cooper. Guess he'd fixed his phone somehow. Most of them were just the words I'm sorry over and over and over again. I had a text from Lacey as well: You didn't send me a report. That must mean it went exceptionally well.