Stealing Heaven (26 page)

I thinkaboutyou all the time. I tell everyone in group I picture
you swooping in to check up on everything, an angel with kick-ass wings, but I
actually wonder if you're cold or if you get to wear your purple sweater all
the time because it's your favorite and your mom isn't around to tell you it's
too low-cut.

Right now, I wonder if you're singing one of those stupid love
songs you love so much and if they still make you smile. I wonder if you miss
driving across the Millertown bridge while we take turns eating ice cream. You
were always able to smuggle a pint out of the grocery store. If I close my eyes
I can see you laughing, spoon in hand. I haven't eaten ice cream in months.

I've cried a lot in Pinewood, and always about you. I know that
must seem strange, especially since you know

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that before I didn't cry at all. I wanted to, though--you know
that too, right? But I couldn't. I knew if I did I'd never stop.

I suppose I should be happy about getting out of here tomorrow. I
guess I am, but the thing is, I keep thinking about who I want to see when I
get home and...there's no one. You won't be there.

I miss you, J.

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ONE

RELEASE DAY CAME,
as promised, and I got my stuff together in
the morning. I didn't have a roommate, and I didn't really talk to anyone, so I
was ready to go pretty quick. (Group therapy was enough conversation for me.)

And that was it. Good-bye Pinewood, thanks for all the crap food
and "sharing sessions." Couldn't say I was going to miss any of it.

Laurie, my shrink, came and walked down with me.

"What are you thinking about?" I don't think Laurie
knows how to not ask questions. Must be the first thing they teach in shrink
school. Also seems to be the only thing.

"Nothing."

"It's okay to be scared," she said, and I did that thing

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with my eyebrows Julia's mom always called snotty.

Laurie didn't seem to notice. She just said, "Everyone gets
scared," like it was some big profound statement.

"Wow, thanks," I said.

"Your parents are waiting, Amy," she said. "They're
right out there and they're excited about taking you home." -

The sick thing is, I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe
that Mom and Dad were waiting and actually wanted to see me. I'd thought that
part of me, the part that wanted me and Mom and Dad to be a family and not how
we actually are, which is the two of them and then me, was gone. I thought I'd
killed it, smashed it into pieces so small they'd never fit together again. I
guess I was wrong.

"Fine," I said, and went to meet them.

They were there in the waiting room, sitting curled up in each
other's arms on one of the sofas. My first day at Pinewood, my arms were raw
from where I'd dug my fingers in to make sure I was alive, and they'd sat on
that same sofa the exact same way.

I'd sat across from them and watched them clutch

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each other's hands like they'd be lost if they let go. They'd
given me a weird almost hug when I left, the two of them still clutching each
other and trying to squeeze me in. That was a lot of fun.

Today they were clutching hands again, but they actually let go of
each other and got up and hugged me. Separately. That's when I realized today
was going to be weird. As in seriously weird.

I'm taller than both of them now. I can't believe it. I knew I was
taller than Mom but didn't realize I'm taller than Dad. I guess maybe I grew
some while I was here. It figures. Sixteen, about six feet tall, and just out
of a "treatment center." I'm such a winner.

On the drive home, Mom and Dad told me about my "new"
room. My bedroom up in the attic is gone. They moved all my stuff down into the
guest room on the second floor, and now it's my bedroom. I can't believe my
parents want me sleeping near them. Weird. But then I suppose it fits in with
today.

Because after telling me about my new room, my parents had other
things to say. They told me there wouldn't be a lock on my door anymore.. They
told me that even though I'm now old enough to get my license,

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there's no way I was going to. They also told me I would have to
keep seeing Laurie every week.

I said "Fine" to everything. I think they expected
arguing or something because they kept looking at me, Dad in the rearview
mirror, Mom in the little one you're supposed to use to check your makeup.

When we got here the weirdness was complete, because the
house...it's still the same, but yet it isn't. For one thing, it's blue now.
Apparently, Mom had it painted again. It's better than the yellow it was before
but not by much. I don't know how an art professor can be so clueless when it
comes to this stuff. I mean, she can paint and teach other people how to do it,
but she can't figure out that a blue house is a bad idea?

Mom and Dad might have been waiting for me to comment on the
house. You never know with them. I didn't say anything. It's a new color, not a
new house, not a new me and a new them, and Julia is still gone.

They helped me bring my stuff in, and then we all stood around
looking at one another. I finally said, "I'm hungry," just so it
wasn't so quiet. They, of course, both went to fix me something to eat. I know
they don't do everything together, and I've even heard them argue

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once in a while, but most of the time it's like they're one
person. Not Colin and Grace. Just ColinandGrace.

I can hear them now, laughing at a joke they'll never share with
me. If Julia was here I never would have heard it because we'd be out having
fun. I don't care about my room or a stupid lock or driving or even having to
see Laurie. I don't care about any of it.

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76 days

It's me. I'm home, though it doesn't feel like it. Not without
you.

I tossed the starter journal Dr. Marks gave me, which is just as
well because it had little pine trees running along the bottom of every page. I
suppose I should be happy it wasn't teddy bears.

After I tossed it and a bunch of other random crap Pinewood gave
me, pamphlets and books and bullshit about feelings, I found my old chemistry
notebook.

Remember chemistry?

Me neither. I know I passed because I wore a short skirt every
time we had a test. Mr. Lansing was such a pervert. Neither of us took a single
note all year. I

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flipped through the notebook when I pulled it out and it was blank
page after blank page except for one.

Hey, you wrote me a note at the bottom of this page.

"Locker after class?"

Your handwriting is so much nicer than mine. I just called your
house. Your mother hung up as soon as I said hello.

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TWO

78 DAYS TODAY
, and Mom took me to the mall.

"A belated birthday present," she said.

I wasn't allowed to get gifts while I was in Pinewood. Laurie had
asked me how I felt about that at least a hundred times, but what did I care?
What kind of birthday was it without Julia there? In the end it was just
another day of therapy and bad food punctuated with an awkward visit with Mom
and Dad.

They sang "Happy Birthday" and asked me how my room was,
then stood around looking nervous. It was a visit just like all their others,
except for the song. Laurie had asked me about that too. She has a question for
everything.

Mom and Dad were both going to take me to the mall, but last night
at dinner we were talking (by which

I mean I just sat there and tried to think of things to say when
they asked me stuff--until now, dinner was always a two-person show) and Dad
suggested she and I go since Mom wasn't teaching today. He said he'd take me to
get school supplies over the weekend.

Mom looked hurt (oh no, they weren't going to be doing everything
together!) and Dad reached out and took her hand, giving her the "you're
my whole world" look. I don't get how they can be so into each other. It's
not normal. (Julia thought it was sweet, but then she was in love with the
whole idea of love. In my book being that "in love" is, frankly, kind
of creepy).

Anyway, they were holding hands and finishing each other's
sentences and Dad was starting to talk about trying to rearrange his schedule.
I could feel myself fading, becoming invisible girl once again, but then Mom
said, "You know, I think that's a great idea."

She almost sounded like she meant it. Almost.

We went, just the two of us, and I spent the first ten minutes
waiting for her to shrivel up because Dad wasn't around. She seemed fine,
though.

Me--well, that was different. The mall was bigger than I remembered,
too full of crap and people. One

of the first stores we passed was the one where me and Julia
almost got busted for putting a skirt in my purse. I'd wanted to grab a plaid
one, but she'd found one that was so much cooler. She had this gift of being able
to find the most amazing clothes in any store. Two seconds and she'd have the
perfect outfit, an outfit that no one else but her could wear.

Anyway, she picked the skirt, it was in my bag, and we almost
exploded trying not to laugh on our way out of the store.

I couldn't breathe, thinking about that. How hard we tried not to
laugh. How hard she did once we were back out in the mall again, her head
thrown back and her eyes shining.

Julia always laughed so loudly, so happily.

I'm never going to hear her laugh again.

Everything started going fuzzy then, black around the edges.

"Mom," I said. "I have to sit down."

Mom took me to the food court, bought me a soda, and called Dad. I
didn't bother listening to the conversation because no one needs to hear
"I love you" forty-seven million times. You'd think they'd get sick
of

saying it to each other. I know they never will.

Mom wouldn't take me home when I finished my soda. I said,
"But what about Dad?" and she said, "He's fine. Which store do
you want to go to first?"

So we went shopping. What else could I do? We went into store
after store, Mom looking, me standing there, trying to breathe. She kept
showing me these little skirts and shirts, stuff like--stuff like Julia and me
always wore.

She even said, "If I had your figure ...," and I stared
at her until she said, "Oh, Amy, I understand. You and Julia probably came
here, right?" and squeezed my hand.

I'd always wanted to do this kind of thing with her, go shopping,
do mom-and-daughter stuff I should have stopped longing for in middle school. I
never wanted it to be like this.

On the way home, Mom asked about birth control, the question too
casual to be anything but practiced at least a hundred times. I told her there
was nothing to tell.

She said, "I know there must be," so I told her I knew
all about it and had been extra careful ever since I had to

take a pregnancy test when I was fourteen. I shouldn't have done
it, but I didn't want to talk about sex with Mom and I knew that would stop the
conversation.

It did, and I thought about the day Julia told me she needed to
buy a pregnancy test. She'd cried and then wiped her eyes and smiled at me.
She'd said, "It'll be okay."

I should have said that to her.. I should have said something.
Done something. Anything. Instead I just sat there.

I thought about sitting in Julia's bathroom, holding her hand as
we waited for the results. She spun around in circles after the little stick
showed everything would be fine, turning and turning with a smile on her face.
We went to a party that night, and she got so high she fell in a bathtub and
split her lip open. I tried to clean her up and ended up smearing blood all
over her shirt.

We both pretended she wasn't crying.

As Mom and I finished our drive home in silence, I thought about
the mall again.

I'd seen Kevin there. Trailing Mom from one store to another and
there he was, standing with his jerkass friends, hanging out. When he saw me,
he glared, as if

he's in so much pain. No matter how much he wishes Julia was here,
I wish it more.

I pretended I didn't see him, and watched Mom flip through shirts
I wouldn't let her buy me.

I pretended I didn't feel like my heart was breaking.