Maybe One Day (25 page)

“Dad, I can take care of myself!” Olivia yelled at him.

“Don’t yell at your father!” yelled Olivia’s mother.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Olivia yelled at her parents. “This is between me and Zoe!”

“I will not have you getting upset like this,” said Mrs. Greco.

“Well, it’s not
up
to you!” Olivia yelled. “Now get out of here!
Please!
”

But since none of us knew who she was talking to, we all stood there sort of shuffling around. “Mom! Dad!” she finally shouted.

“What is it, sweetheart?” asked her mother, placing her hand on Olivia’s forehead.

“I want you to go,” she said more quietly. “I want to talk to Zoe.”

Even though I was scared to hear what she wanted to say, I felt relieved that it was her parents she was throwing out, not me.

“Honey, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Mrs. Greco said. “Dr. Maxwell said you’re supposed to take it easy.”

“I want. To talk. To Zoe,” Olivia repeated.

Mr. and Mrs. Greco looked at each other. “Should we let her?” asked Mrs. Greco quietly.

“She’s right
here
.” Olivia slapped the bed with frustration. “She’s right here and she wants you to go.”

I couldn’t read the look that passed between the Grecos, but the next thing I knew, they were heading to the door.

“We’ll be right outside” were her dad’s parting words.

“Zoe, please Purell your hands,” said her mom.

And then they were in the hallway and the door was slowly closing behind them.

When we were finally alone, Olivia said, “They’re driving me crazy.” She looked over to make sure the door was shut all the way. “I’m telling you, my dad’s going to be on his BlackBerry at my funeral.”

“I’m sure he’ll at least turn it to vibrate,” I assured her.

A small smile flirted with the corners of Livvie’s mouth, and I watched her force it away. “I cannot
believe
you lied to me.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It makes me feel like I’m just this . . . patient.” She threw her arms out in front of her. “This
thing
. This messed-up blood and these symptoms. It’s like I don’t even
exist
.” She glared at me.

“You exist.” It sounded so lame, and yet I said it twice. “Of course you exist.”

“I mean, I understand my parents treating me like a baby,
but you’re my
friend
. How could you do that to me?” She started to cry.

I started to cry also. “Livvie, please.” I took a step toward the bed. “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

“Maybe I’d even be happy for you,” she said, crying hard enough that it was difficult to understand her words. “If you had a boyfriend or, you know”—she swiped at her face with her sheet—“whatever.” Catching her breath, she added, “At least it would be something to talk about besides how I’m
feeling
.”

“I should have told you.”

She glared at me, but it was somehow a self-conscious glare, a glare that she had to work at. “You should have trusted me.”

I wiped my cheek. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“In other words, I’m so delicate I couldn’t have handled your making out with some guy I had a tiny crush on.” She turned to face the window. A huge tanker was being pulled by a tugboat, but I couldn’t tell if she was watching it or just staring at the glass. “What did you think would happen—did you think I’d die of
grief
or something?”

“No,” I said quickly. I pushed my hair off my forehead as I tried to reconstruct my own logic. “It’s . . . I thought, ‘Oh, God, I did this thing, this stupid thing that’s going to hurt Olivia.’ And I didn’t want to be the person who did something to hurt you, because I love you, and when I realized—when I
thought
—I’d done something that might hurt you, I felt terrible
and so I lied about it. I’m very, very sorry.”

The boat passed out of our line of vision, and Livvie turned back to face me. “If you like him, you should tell me.”

I looked at her. She looked back at me, unflinching.

She was right. If I liked him, I should tell her.

I took a breath. “I like him,” I said, admitting it to myself as much as to her.

She nodded, as if it was the answer she’d expected. “Have you told him?”

I shook my head.

“Well,” she said, rubbing her thumb over her collar bone, “if you like him, you should tell him. Because you never know what can happen.” She swirled her hand around the room. Suddenly her shoulders started shaking, and at first I thought she was laughing, but then I realized she was crying. “You never know what can happen,” she repeated, sobbing this time. “So you . . . you really shouldn’t wait, okay?”

“Livvie.” I dashed my hands under the Purell dispenser, then crossed the room in a couple of steps and put my arms around her.

She buried her face in my shoulder. “They
nuked
me. They
nuked
me twice. And it came back. How are they . . .” She raised her head and leaned back against the pillows. “How are they going to get rid of it?”

“Dr. Maxwell is . . . I mean, she’s the
best
.” Gently I tucked the blanket around her. “She’s going to cure you.”

Livvie swiped at her cheeks with her fingertips.

“Really, Livs. And a bone marrow transplant. I mean you won’t even have your blood anymore. You’ll have Jake’s blood. You’ll have all-new blood! Without leukemia in it.” Just saying it made Olivia’s leukemia feel like something in the past tense.

She studied her hands on the blanket. “People die of bone marrow transplants.”

My body went cold all over, but I managed to make my voice firm. “You’re not going to die.”

“I guess.” I thought she was going to ask me more about Calvin, but after a pause she wiggled her fingers for the remote. “Gimme.” I handed it to her. “I just want to watch TV,” she said. “Is that okay? I just don’t want to think about anything anymore.” I was about to tell her I’d go and let her watch when she said, “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” I said, relief at her asking washing over me.

She pointed at the dresser against the opposite wall. “Get a surgical mask. They’re in the top drawer. My mom will freak if she comes back and you’re not wearing one. She thinks the school is a petri dish.”

“Sure.” I went over to the dresser, took out a surgical mask, and hooked the elastic over my ears. Then I pulled the chair closer to Olivia’s bed and faced it toward the screen. Two women were sitting in a suburban kitchen drinking tea.

I looked over at Livvie. “Are we okay?”

“We’re okay,” she said, her eyes on the screen. Then she
turned and looked at me. “Seriously.”

“Okay,” I said.

One of the women was saying, “. . . and I know Todd called his brother before he left.”

“What are we watching?” I asked, though the truth was, I couldn’t have cared less.

Livvie shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Perfect,” I said, “I love that show.” Livvie smiled, then turned up the volume. We both settled back to watch.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

28

I wouldn’t have hit the car if I hadn’t been so focused on the cement pole.

Everything should have gone smoothly. Livvie and I both got totally into the soap opera we were watching, and when Mrs. Greco came back into the room she got into it too, and even though we never quite managed to get a handle on the plot, we watched, rapt, for the rest of the hour while Mr. Greco conducted business from his BlackBerry. Right before I left, Mrs. Greco went to get a cup of coffee. After making sure her dad was on a call, I told Livvie about having driven into the city by myself.

Her eyes went wide. “No you did
not
.”

I nodded. “That’s why I have to go,” I whispered. “I have to bring the car back before my parents see.” I reached down to
hug her, and she hugged me back hard.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into my shoulder. “I’m so sorry we had that fight.”

“Me too, Livs,” I whispered back. “I’m so sorry about everything.”

Sitting in the car, I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until I went to start the engine. The keys rattled against the dashboard, and I had to stop trying to insert them, take a deep breath, and wait a couple of minutes before I tried again.

“You’re okay,” I said out loud to myself. “Everything is okay. You just did this drive two hours ago.” I got the key into the ignition, put the car in drive instead of in reverse, turned to look over my shoulder, hit the gas, and nearly drove into the wall.

“
Fuck!
”

I dropped my head against the steering wheel and took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I can do this.” My hands were slippery with sweat, but this time I remembered to put the car in reverse. I checked behind me. No one there. The car was now dangerously close to a cement pole, and as I slowly backed out, I kept my eyes glued to the right front bumper, biting my lip and talking to myself as I slid slowly backward.

That’s when I hit the car.

There was the sound of breaking glass and the screech of rubber on cement as the other driver and I both slammed on
our brakes, and the next thing I knew, I was standing outside my car and looking at my dad’s smashed taillight.

Oh my fucking God, I am so dead
.

“Are you
crazy
?” demanded the driver. He climbed out of his enormous Lincoln and came around the front of it to study the damage. The damage that had been done to
my
car, by the way. As far as I could tell, his was fine.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I was in a full-on panic. He was going to ask to exchange licenses and registrations. Insurance information.

I was never, never going to be allowed to get behind the wheel of a car again.

“You’re
sorry
?” He was wearing a sweater-vest with a button-down shirt and a bow tie. I could picture his ancestors giving Native Americans blankets infected with smallpox. “Young lady, do you realize if someone had been walking behind you that person could have been
killed
?”

Behind his, a line of cars was forming. He looked at my dad’s taillight. “That is going to cost a pretty penny to fix. I don’t know if they teach you about insurance in driver’s education, young lady, but in New York State, the person in
drive
has the right of way, not the person in reverse. My insurance company is
not
going to pay for that to be repaired.”

“Zoe?” I swung around to see who was calling my name. In the line of cars was Jake’s. He was leaning out his open window and waving at me. I could see Calvin sitting in the
passenger seat.

Why Calvin? Why
now
?

“Are you okay?” asked Jake.

“Yeah.” I gave a small wave back. “I’m fine.”

The man cleared his throat, impatient for me to say something.

“Well, I guess if it’s my car that’s damaged and I’m going to have to pay to repair it, then it doesn’t make sense for us to exchange insurance information, does it?” I hoped I sounded less rabid than I felt.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jake still leaning out of his car. Someone a few cars behind his honked.

The man was still watching me suspiciously, arms folded across his belly. “And what am I supposed to do if it turns out there’s something wrong with my car that is
invisible to the naked eye
?”

For almost a full minute, the only sound was the blasting of horns as the line of cars grew.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I honestly have no idea what to say to that.” I couldn’t believe this was how I was going down—car damage invisible to the naked eye.

“Well”—the man wagged a finger in my direction—“you’re lucky I’m in a rush, young lady.” He turned and headed back to his car. “Next time, look where you’re going.” He opened his car door and screeched off.

“Thanks,” I called to his retreating bumper. “I’ll keep that
in mind.”

Jake and Calvin pulled into the space next to mine. Jake glanced into my car, clearly expecting to find one of my parents sitting in the driver’s seat. When he didn’t, he looked at me. Then he looked back at the car. “Zoe,” he said slowly, “who drove you here?”

“My invisible chauffeur.” I stared at the shattered taillight. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Calvin and Jake came closer to see what I was looking at. “Damn, girl,” said Jake. “What are you doing driving into the city by yourself?”

“A cop will pull you over for that,” said Calvin. “It’s against the law to drive with one of your taillights out.”

“Great.” I walked around to the passenger side of the car and stood there being furious with myself. “This is just
fucking
great.” I was going to have to call my parents. There was no way around it.

“I can drive you home later,” offered Jake. “After I see Livvie.”

“Thanks,” I said, so grateful to him I could have cried. “Really, Jake, thank you. But even if you drove, my dad would be pissed at me for taking the car. I’ve just gotta call him and . . .” I reached into my bag and got out my phone, then put my head against the cool of the car’s roof and stood there for a minute, gathering the courage to make the call. My dad was already in the city, so he’d be the one to have to come get
me, which meant I should call him first. But he was also the one who was more likely to be furious about what I’d done. If I called my mom and had
her
call him, it was possible she’d manage to calm him down, sparing me the worst of his anger. But that was assuming she wasn’t totally pissed off also.

If I told her about Olivia’s having relapsed, would my parents understand why I’d had to drive myself into Manhattan?

I heard what my mom had said to me that afternoon in our living room.
Olivia’s illness is a tragedy. Don’t make it into a petty excuse
.

Okay, they were
so
not going to understand.