Days Like This (2 page)

I HUGGED MY knees toward my
chest. Even though it was a sunny day, it was still April in Indiana. Graham
and I used to sneak off to the ocean all year round, especially after one of
Mom’s bad days, when I was stressed out. It was never this cold at home, but
sometimes it was too cold for a rational person to sit next to the water. We
didn’t let it stop us. Graham would always wrap his arms around me and kiss my
neck, and we’d stay that way next to the ocean until the coldness seemed to
seep through my skin. Then he’d guide me to the car or the quiet place under
the pier and tell me I was beautiful while his hands warmed and explored my
body and made me forget I’d even been cold. Made me forget everything that
wasn’t him.

No thinking
about Graham
.

I couldn’t let
myself go back to those memories, or I’d never be happy without him.

My eyes scanned
the shore of the lake, which was scattered with people. A boy and his mom were
closest to me. He was three or four, running through the sand in steps that
were too wide to keep him balanced. The woman trailed after him and rested a
hand on her pregnant belly. They lingered at the cusp of the tide, and he
reached for her as the waves washed over his feet.

The last time I came here I
was with Rohan. I failed a test that day, which wasn’t a big deal, but it felt
like the world was ending. It made me cry more. The crying reminded me of Mom,
of times when every small moment was really a large one. And of Graham, and the
look on his face each time I disappointed him, when I made him leave me here,
and that made it worse. My emotions had been out of control when Rohan found me
in bed. He’d stroked my cheek with his slightly calloused fingertips, curled
his body next to mine. The warmth of him had seeped through my sheets, but it
was nothing like Graham’s warmth or Graham’s hands or even Graham’s memory.

I never told Rohan
why I was upset; I couldn’t because he didn’t know about Mom, but he’d carried
me out of the bed and into the car and up here. I still hadn’t told him or
anyone else. Indiana made me someone new, someone without a bipolar mother,
someone not at risk. I’d given up everything, including Graham, to be that person,
but I wasn’t sure who this new Cassie was without those things.

The boy squealed,
stuck somewhere between excitement and laughter. The water crawled up his to
his ankles and he jumped in it, making a splash and a louder laugh. The sound
made me smile.

I grabbed my
notebook, writing down notes and words to the rhythms around me.

Sandcastles,
snowmen, houses of cards // everything falls apart // just like you // just
like me// and the life that couldn’t be // things I can never get back //
things I can never be // just like you // just like me // and the life that
will never be

Every piece of
life had music in it; we only had to find it. Writing music, writing life,
helped me focus on the important moments. The ones that needed to be felt and
captured and remembered. That was all music was: moments frozen into songs. I
heard the songs as if they were really playing around me—and sometimes, lately,
I’d been hearing the ones I was trying to forget.

My phone vibrated
on my leg; it was June, and I sighed before answering it.

"
Cassidee
Fucking
Harlen, where are you? Rohan is freaking out.”

“I had to get
away. Tell Rohan I'm fine.”

June inhaled on
the line. I almost saw her in my head as she paced outside Jason's dorm, bright
red and pink hair a mess because June “doesn't do Monday mornings” and chain
smoking even though she’d quit last week. And two weeks before that.

“You sure you're
not having a meltdown or anything? If you're under emotional distress, I can
drag Jason's ass out of bed and we can come save you. We even have a white
stallion.”

Jason's Mustang.
We dubbed it Stallion after the homecoming parade, when Rohan and I were new
and Jason was newer and would do anything to be in with June. Most people would
do anything to be in with June.

“But do you have
a cape? And a sword?”

She paused,
breathing in and out on the line. She was definitely smoking. “Actually, yes.”

“Do I want to
know?”

“Probably not,” June
said. Her voice practically smiled across the phone. “You're sure this isn't a
cry for help?”

“Yes,” I said. If
she knew about my mom then what would she think? Or about Graham?

“Great, then call
your boyfriend, doll. I'm going back to bed.”

I glanced at my
watch. 11:10 a.m. "Don't you have psych in twenty minutes? I think you
should go to class instead of to sleep."

“Who said I was
sleeping? Jason has a cape, and I only need ten minutes for what I have in
mind.”

“Gross.”

“Don't be jealous.
I will totally have Jason give the cape to Rohan. I know how you have a thing
for superheroes,” she said with a laugh before she hung up.

I’d met Rohan at
a party where he was dressed as some Indian superhero. June dragged me with her
to the frat party, thanks to her then fling with David Givens, and I ended up
in the corner of the room, a lonely sexy nurse surrounded by superheroes. It
was a theme—heroes—and apparently sexy nurse qualified. At least in June's
eyes. I’d never talked to Rohan Patel before he said, “I think you’re the only
one who took this party literally.” He stayed by my side all night, and then he
helped me get June back to our dorm. He looked at me like I was being seen for
the first time, and ran his fingers across my cheek, and kissed me like I was
more than the broken girl, like I was the only girl, and spent the night.

My phone vibrated
again. This time it was Rohan.

June said she
talked to you. Where are you?

I was about to
call
.

You’re okay?

Went on a
drive. I’m coming back now.

Good. I
want to show you something
.

It’s not a
cape is it?

What? No.

What is
it?

It’s a
surprise. Come back and meet me. I’ll be at The Garage
.

I hated
surprises. But it was Rohan, so I would smile and pretend like I didn’t hate
them.

I stole one last
glance at the lake where the boy and his mom were building a sandcastle. I
wiped sand off my jeans as I rose to my feet and turned away.

Maybe theirs
will stand longer than anything we tried to build
.

I slammed the car
door and had to crank the engine twice before the old convertible turned on.
Around me, the sky turned that familiar shade of orange. It was the same shade
as this tiny boutique Mom and I visited when we’d drive to the beach when I was
younger. We always stopped at a little orange boutique with a name I couldn’t
pronounce, and we’d try on all the hats in the store. Especially the ones with
lace. We jumped around and she talked to me in fake accents and told me her
name was “Tallulah” and I was “Divine” and we’d laugh and laugh until the
clerks grew annoyed.

Then we’d wander
to a green store for ice cream, which had an open sign that blinked like
someone was eating a cone. She ordered us a banana split because those were better
if they were shared, and before we hit the road again, she’d go to the purple
shop and buy a record. Something classic from the sixties or seventies. The
kind of stuff Mom loved.

“This,” she’d
said, “is how music should sound.”

That was her line
every time we bought one, and when we arrived back home in the middle of the
night, she’d play it before she put me to bed. It screeched and scratched on
the record player, but it was the way music was supposed to sound. Eventually,
I’d believe the same thing.

“It’s pure,” Mom
had said.

Mom called a lot
of things pure, whole and better. Especially the ocean. There was nothing like
the ocean for us. I always thought I could keep her focused on the pretty days
and she’d be okay, we’d be okay, and it would be enough, but I’d fail. I always
failed.

THE SKY WAS dark when I
arrived at The Garage, and the sound of drums leaked out into the cool April
air. I stopped right outside the heavy iron door and listened to Vinyl Drive
practice. They were getting good, that was for sure. Two months ago, they
landed a manager. They’d been working on a demo ever since. Rohan wasn’t ready
to admit the band was more than a pastime. He still planned to get his degree
in engineering and go on to do something to use all his brains and make lots of
money so his family could be proud. It was a standard that all three of his
older siblings achieved (doctor, NASA technician, chiropractor). Music meant
something more to him. Something more than a hobby, more than science, and
maybe even more than his parents’ approval.

It was that for
me too, and it definitely connected us in a way that I hadn’t felt with Graham.
But where Rohan created his own music, I survived on everyone else’s. He heard
me once when we were driving in the car, and he stopped singing mid-song so he
could listen to me. Then he turned the radio down, and said that I was good.
“Really good. Better than anyone I know. You should sing more.”

“I don’t sing,”
I’d said.

“Why not? This
could be your path. You wanted a major.”

“Not music,” I’d
snapped. Because as much as I loved it—listening to it, writing it, breathing
it—that was always more Mom’s thing. She was the one who’d been in the music
industry, manager to some really famous bands back before I was born. She lived
music, and I knew that passion flowed through my veins, but embracing it meant
embracing everything that she was. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want one more
part of me to be shaped by someone else.

Rohan struck the
last chord; my ears rang in the silence. He found me immediately, his hungry eyes
taking me in. The smile that danced in his gaze made all the worries melt away.
He made me feel without saying anything.

Levi, the
drummer, started rambling about their meeting next week, the last chance to
make sure they had established a sound. A song that was a hit maker. It was a
big deal for the band. Rohan commented on it, and in a quick movement, jumped
off stage and pressed his lips to mine.

I knew everyone
was watching, but my body didn’t care nearly as much as my brain. Rohan pulled
me in closer. His hand trailed the line of my waist where my shirt rose, and I
leaned in, pressing our hips together. His thumb was rough against my stomach,
sending chills up my spine. Vaguely, I heard the guys catcalling around us. Rohan
must have heard them too, because he pulled away and stared over my shoulder.
There was a noise, as the rest of the band started moving behind me.

“What's going on?”
I asked.

“Can't a guy kiss
his girl? ”

I nodded. “You
wanted to show me something? ”

A smile broke out
on his face. “This way. ”

He led me through
the door beside the back of the stage and the guys yelled something. Rohan
flipped them off, and then I was surrounded by darkness. It was so dark I
couldn't tell if my eyes were opened or shut. Warmth spread across my neck as Rohan
said in my ear, “This is the moment, Cassie.”

His heart raced
against my back, and the feeling of him so close to me made my breath hitch.
Between his hands around my waist and his breath on my neck, my body melded
into his. My heart pounded too, trying to keep up with his, anxious from this
surprise and from his fingers on my skin. Every part of me responded to Rohan
when he touched me, from my head to my stomach to my toes. It was a feeling I
still wasn’t used to.

With Graham it
was different. With Graham, my whole being responded. Just by a look across a
room or a word. And God, a touch was like fire exploding all over my skin. I
didn’t have that with Rohan. What Rohan and I had was only physical, what Graham
and I had was everything—multiplied by a hundred, plus soaring.