Roadside Assistance (26 page)

Logan rattled off his usual incomprehensible prayer, and then everyone began filling the special china plates.

“So, Whitney,” Grandma said. “How did the history test go?”

“It went well,” Whitney said with a smile. “I think I got an A.”

“I’m sure you did,” Grandma said with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Yup. That’s your girl.
I rolled my eyes and drenched my turkey in gravy.

“Everything is delicious, Darlene,” my dad said.

“Yes, it’s wonderful, Darlene,” Grandma exclaimed. “You’re such a good cook. I taught you well.”

“Thank you.” Darlene looked at me. “I got you an ice cream cake. Your dad said that was your favorite.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It is.”

“Grandma,” Whitney broke in. “Did you say happy birthday to Emily?”

I glanced at my cousin, and she winked at me. I couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Oh, that’s right,” Grandma said. “Happy birthday, Emily.” She glanced at Chuck. “Did you grab her card? It was on the table by the door.”

“Yes,” Chuck said. He gave me a half smile.

“Thanks,” I said.
I bet it has my usual ten dollars from her in it.

“Whitney,” Grandma began. “Have you sent the invitations for your birthday party next week?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Whitney said. “They went in the mail last week.”

“All of the details are set?” Grandma persisted. “You reserved the activity center, right?”

“Yes,” Darlene chimed in. “We also got the caterer and the DJ.”

I glanced at my father, wondering if he agreed the birthday party Darlene had been planning for Whitney during the past month was over the top. He shrugged and grabbed the bowl of mashed potatoes.

“Did you get decorations?” Grandma asked.

“I got some balloons and little party favors,” Darlene said, taking more turkey. “It’s going to be lovely with the centerpieces and all.”

I swallowed a groan. I couldn’t even imagine what Whitney’s wedding would be like if her birthdays were this extravagant. It would probably resemble something like a royal wedding with ten bridesmaids, a ton of flowers, and dresses costing thousands of dollars each.

The rest of dinner was spent discussing Whitney’s upcoming party and the millions of details: appetizers, music, the cake, etc.

Once we were finished eating, I helped Darlene and Whitney with the dishes and then sat in the den with my dad, uncle, and Logan and watched football while the women continued planning Whitney’s party.

My eyes were closed, and I was falling asleep when I heard someone calling my name.

“Emily,” my dad said, nudging me. “I believe it’s time to celebrate your birthday.”

“Really?” I asked with a yawn. “I thought we were planning Whitney’s party.”

He gave me a sympathetic look. “I know that her party is a bit extravagant, but we have to endure it.” He rubbed my arm. “We’re guests here.” Taking my hand in his, he led me into the kitchen, where an ice cream cake reading “Happy Birthday, Emily” and glowing with candles sat in the middle of the table.

Everyone began to sing to me, and I fought back tears when it hit me this was my first birthday and our first Thanksgiving without Mom. When they finished singing, I blew out the candles, and Darlene cut pieces of cake for everyone.

“Open my gift,” Logan said, pushing a small box toward me.

“Thank you.” I ripped it open and found a keychain with a Chevrolet logo on it. “It’s perfect.”

“You can use it when you get your own Chevy,” Logan said.

I laughed. “I will. I promise.”

“Here you go, dear.” Darlene pushed an envelope toward me. “It’s from your uncle and me.”

“Thank you.” I opened the envelope and pulled out a mushy card talking about how wonderful nieces are. Inside I found a $100 gift card for the Cameronville Mall. So over the top. Just like Darlene.

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s so generous.”

Whitney handed me a small box and a card. “This is from me.”

“Thanks,” I said. I opened the box and found a pair of silver hoop earrings. I rarely wore earrings, but these were elegant and simple. Whitney did a good job figuring out what I’d like. “They’re lovely. Thank you, Whitney.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “Maybe I can go with you to use that gift card. I had a blast when you went shopping with Kristin and me that time.”

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “That would be cool.”

Grandma handed me an envelope containing a card about
granddaughters and a ten-dollar bill. The usual. I couldn’t help but snicker.

“What’s so funny?” Grandma asked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Thank you, Grandma.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Enjoy,” she said.

We finished our cake and then I retreated to my room, claiming I needed to rest, even though I planned to write in my journal. I flipped through my mom’s Bible and then stepped over to the window. Sinking down into the window seat, I pulled open the shade and prepared to write, but instead my eyes wandered toward Zander’s garage. The floodlights on the corner of the roof that automatically came on in the dark seemed to beckon me, inviting me to come over and enjoy the solitude.

I pulled on a sweatshirt and hurried down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” my dad asked from his place on the sofa.

“I’ll be back,” I said.

“I know you’ll be back, but where are you going?” he called after me.

“For a walk,” I said.

“But it’s cold out,” Chuck chimed in.

I stopped at the door and slipped on my boots. “I just need to clear my head. I’ll be back soon.”

Hugging my sweatshirt to my body, I jogged over to the keypad and mashed the digits for the code. After hitting “enter” twice, the door lifted. I stepped into the garage, turned on the lights, and hit the button to close the door. I felt like a burglar as I walked past the Dodge, running my fingers over the cool metal.

Standing at the front of the car, I examined Zander’s work, wondering who had helped him get the engine in place. Although it stung that he’d continued his big project without me, I decided to help him get the motor hooked up.

I dropped my phone onto the bench, flipped on the small radio, and then went to work for the next two hours. Crawling under the car, I slid in the starter. I hooked up the engine brackets and then installed the power steering pump and alternator. Finally, I connected the wires for the starter, ignition, and alternator. When I was done, I was exhausted but somehow felt renewed, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Since my hands were covered in grease, I stepped over to the sink and scrubbed them with Gojo. While I was washing them off, I heard my phone chirp. After drying my hands, I then lifted my phone from the bench.

When I glanced down at the screen, I gasped, finding a text message from Zander that said: Em — Happy Birthday — Z

I typed back: Thanks

He responded quickly with: And Happy Thanksgiving 2

My heart beat quickly as I typed back: U 2

Lowering myself onto a stool, I stared at the phone, hoping that he’d text again and say something like:
I miss you
or
I’m sorry
or, even a long shot of:
I love you.

But no more messages came. I knew I should be happy that he’d even texted me since it was the first time in over a month. However, it still stung.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated, and for the first time in months, a prayer formed in my heart.

“God,” I whispered, “I don’t understand why things are going the way they are for me. I don’t feel you in my life, and I need you. And I need Zander. Please, God, bring Zander back to me. Somehow. I need him.”

I sat in silence for a few more minutes, trying to find the words to tell God how I felt about everything — losing my mom, moving to Whitney’s house, arguing with my dad, facing the holidays without my mom. But I couldn’t form the words. It was as if my short prayer about Zander was all my heart could handle.

But it was a start.

I glanced around the garage and yawned. It was time to go home.

After turning off the lights and radio, I locked up the garage and headed up our deck stairs. I was stepping through the door when a thought occurred to me: Zander had once mentioned that when he was at the beach house he had to drive twenty minutes into town to get a cell phone signal. Had he driven that far just to send me those few text messages? The idea eased my mind just a tad.

I showered and changed into my pajamas before climbing into bed. I was just opening my journal when a voice startled me.

“You okay?” Whitney asked from the doorway.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just tired.”

She stepped into the room. “Today had to be hard without your mom.”

A lump swelled in my throat as I held up the album. “Would you like to see what my dad made for me?”

“Yeah.” Whitney sat on the edge of the bed, and we flipped through the album, laughing and talking about photos. To my surprise, she even had tears in her eyes when she saw a few of the photographs.

“This is beautiful,” she said, closing the album. “It’s something you’ll cherish forever.” She looked up at me and frowned. “I’m sorry my party was the subject of the day.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s going to be a big affair.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and rolled her eyes. “My mom is really going to extremes. I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted.”

I couldn’t help but snort. “Really? You don’t love the attention?”

Shaking her head, she gave me a dark look. “Believe it or not, I don’t want it all the time.”

“And thanks for trying to bring the conversation to me,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

She nodded. “I hate how my mom and Grandma are so focused on me. They act like you don’t exist sometimes.”

“You noticed that?”

She snorted this time. “How could I not notice?” She looked serious again. “I saw you coming out of the garage. You miss him.”

I sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“I think he misses you too. He’s hardly spoken to his friends. Everyone’s noticed the change in him since you guys stopped talking.”

My heart thumped.

“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me, but I think you two need to talk.”

“I’ve tried.” My voice quavered and I cleared my throat. “He doesn’t open up to me.”

She pushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Don’t give up on him.” She paused. “I think you two make a great couple, and you should try again.”

I stared at her, shocked by her words.

“Hey, is that your mom’s Bible?” she asked.

I grabbed it from my nightstand and held it up.

“Wow. I can’t imagine how it must feel to have that.” She paused for a second. “Emily, don’t take this the wrong way, but I figured out awhile back that I can’t take things on alone. I have to give my burdens to God. Don’t try to do it all alone, okay?” She stood and started for the door. Before she opened it, she looked back at me. “Happy Birthday, cuz.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“Good night,” she said, and made her way out of the room. After she closed the door, I pulled out my journal and began to write:

Thanksgiving & My Birthday

Dear Mom,

To say that I miss you today would be an understatement. You always made my birthday the most special day of the year for me. But today was far from special.

I thought going into Zander’s garage and working on his car alone would help, but the comfort it brought me was fleeting. I did manage to send up a short prayer tonight, however, and it felt good. I wasn’t able to tell God everything in my heart, but it was a start. Maybe I’ll figure this out, but it won’t be easy without your help.

I wish you were here to tell me that everything is going to be all right. Truthfully, I’m not sure if it ever will be.

I wish I knew how to make things right with Zander. Whitney and Chelsea both told me that I should talk to him because they think he cares for me. He texted me to wish me a happy birthday, which shows he thought of me, but how do I know he cares if he won’t talk to me? Okay, he speaks to me occasionally, but he only says “hello” and shares meaningless pleasantries. We don’t really talk anymore, not about things that matter.

I feel like I’m an empty shell of the person I was before you died, Mom, stuck on some road I can’t seem to find my way off of. I don’t know how I’ll ever feel whole again. If you can see this, Mom, would you somehow send me a sign? Can you tell me how to feel like myself again? Can you help me get Zander back?

More importantly, can you tell me how to reconnect with you and with God?

Can you show me how to pray?

With a lump in my throat, I closed my journal and curled up in bed. As I closed my eyes, I wondered if Zander had been partially right — I was completely miserable.

chapter eighteen

T
he heavy bass of alternative rock music thumped and vibrated off the walls as I walked with Chelsea into the Castleton Community Activity Room. The large banquet room was decorated with pink and white balloons emblazoned with “Happy 17
^th
, Whitney” on each table, pink and white streamers, four long tables covered in food, and bowls of pink and white M&M’S also exclaiming “Happy Birthday, Whitney.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chelsea said, glancing around the decorated room. “This is for a birthday party? Are you sure it’s not a graduation party or a wedding?”

“I hope I’m living in Europe or at least on the other side of the country when she gets married,” I commented.

“I don’t blame you,” Chelsea said.

“This is
so
over the top,” I said. “I got an ice cream cake on my birthday. Why does she need all this?”

“My guess would be this is as much for your aunt’s social standing as Whitney’s.” Chelsea nodded toward Darlene, who stood laughing with a group of ladies as well dressed as she was.

“At least we could dress casually for this party. I don’t know if I could take this in a frilly dress and heels,” I responded.