Taking Off (22 page)

CHAPTER 52

T
he lunch with Professor Gaines didn’t launch me into any decision making about my future. I let the days run one into the other, thinking about Mark, about graduation, but still unable to act, to do anything.

I knew Mark sensed something, especially because he didn’t ask again about my trip to Florida. I thought he didn’t want to know what happened on the trip or between Tommy and me.

One day, after work at the theater on a Saturday afternoon, we went to my house to hang out. I flicked on the TV. We watched show after show until finally I noticed how dark it was. The room had been lit with dusk light when we’d first sat down. Now the only light was from the TV.

The news was on. They were showing an old interview with the principal of the high school where Christa had taught.

Mark jerked. “Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No,” I said, sitting up. “I want to see it.” I left the couch and went to sit on the floor in front of the TV. I turned up the volume.

It was a happy interview. Christa had just been selected as the Teacher in Space. “She’s sort of a risk-taker,” the principal was saying. “She does the unusual. And she’s not afraid of things. She lives life. She’s not afraid of it.”

Then the news showed a clip of a white-helmeted Christa in a T-38 waving as she went by the camera.

In another clip, she was speaking about what it was like to fly on an airplane that simulates zero gravity. “As you peak, that parabola at the top,” she said, gesturing with her hand, “you have about twenty or thirty seconds of weightlessness, and all of a sudden, just like Peter Pan you just start flying up, and it was just unbelievable.”

There was a laugh in her voice, and a look of wonder on her face. She had been doing exactly what she wanted to be doing and having so much fun.

What am
I
doing
? I thought.
I’m sitting here, doing nothing.

That was what I did. Nothing.

The only thing I ever did was take a trip to Florida. And fall for a guy I hardly knew. And then I came back, sat in front of the television, and just willed life to go on—with Mark beside me.

This whole year the only thing I’d been certain and clear about was the need to see Christa fly. Seeing someone else’s dream take wing, not my own.

“Annie, let’s not watch this stuff. It’s making you upset.”

“I need a glass of water.” I left for the kitchen.

I fingered the white petals of the daisies in the glass vase on the table.
I love him, I love him not.
Mark came in.

I went to the sink. Mom hadn’t washed the dishes from her dinner with Donald. Our dishwasher had been broken for a few months. Dad had offered to fix it, but Mom had said no. One sink was filled with old, cold water. And one pan. One pot. Two plates. Two glasses. Two spoons. Two knives. Two forks.

Seeing the paired dishes only made me feel really, really sad. I must be a terrible person for not wanting Mom to be happy with someone. It just made everything seem so final. And like Mom was moving on without me when I was the one who was supposed to be moving on.

Was I digging my heels into Clear Lake because of Mom? I didn’t think so. But that might be a part of it.

I’d liked our life together.

I let the cold water run down the drain.

“Are you going to answer me, Annie?”

“I need to wash the dishes.” I ran the water to warm it up and squirted dishwashing soap in the sink.

“I’ll help,” he said.

I washed and rinsed. Mark dried and tried to kiss my neck.

I scooted away, grabbing another towel. “Here, dry with this one. That one’s wet.”

Mark took it and was quiet while he dried a plate. I went back to washing, glad for the silence. I had to tell him. I knew.

“Annie?”

I took a breath. “Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

I paused. This was like swimming through mud. I stared at my hands in the soapy water, feeling sad. I took a breath and wiped my hands on the towel. When I looked at him, I felt like there was a heavy weight on my chest holding the words inside. I pushed them out. “I have to talk to you.”

It was like I slapped him. His face fell. He turned from me and kind of shook his head.

“Mark—,” I began, reaching out for him.

“No.”

“Mark, let’s sit down.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

I tried to say something, anything.

“Annie,” he said, softly. “Annie. You’re crying.” He wiped my face with the towel.

“Mark,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

His eyes watered, and it broke my heart.

“Mark. I’ll always love you. You mean so much to me.”

“But you’re not … in love with me anymore.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He pulled back, throwing his hands up in the air.

Whoosh
, it was gone, the love, the caring, the sweetness … I really needed it right now, and he was especially good at it, but it wasn’t fair to him. “Mark.” I tried to reach for him. He backed up.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his eyes wet, his voice steel. “Is it Tommy?”

I hesitated.

“I knew it. I knew it. When I saw that guy, I knew I shouldn’t have let you go.”

I could have gotten mad. He had no right to say he shouldn’t have let me go, like he owned me. But what did it matter what he said now? “Mark. You knew something was wrong before I left, that’s why you got so mad when I was leaving. You sensed that I didn’t feel the same way anymore.”

He looked like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. “I gotta go.”

“Mark.” I thought he was crying. “Mark, wait.”

He didn’t stop.

I stared out the living room window. Mark got into his car, slamming the door. When he drove away, the tires squealed. I could even hear it inside the house. I watched the cars go down the road.

CHAPTER 53

I
looked for him at school—in the hallways, at his locker. He wasn’t anywhere.

Then I went to the one class we had together and he wasn’t there either.

“Where’s Mark?” Lea asked in a concerned voice. She and I had spent two hours on the phone last night.

“I don’t know.”

I looked around. The teacher wasn’t here yet, so everyone was in groups talking. No one was listening to the two of us. They all had their own stuff.

Mark walked in the room. He looked terrible. His eyes were red. His hair was not brushed, his clothes were so wrinkled it looked like he had slept in them. I silently pleaded with him to look up at me. But he avoided my eyes, walking past his normal seat beside me and sitting in the back of the room.

The whispers started. Eyes turned my way, then his. I was glad the teacher walked in right then. I opened my book and stared at the board, wishing this day would just be over so I could go home and curl up on the couch in front of the TV. Maybe Dad would come by. Life could stop, and then go on.

I waited for Mark after class. People would catch my eye as they came out, then look away like they were embarrassed for me. I was sure they were wondering what was going on. Mark and I had been a couple for ages.

I worried what he would do when he saw me. He was taking forever. I swallowed and looked down, looked back up. I didn’t want to be standing here, but I had to talk to him. I was worried about him.

He was the last one out. He stopped abruptly when he saw me. “Oh,” was all he said.

“Can I talk to you?”

He looked at a whispering huddle of girls in the corner. “Just leave it,” he said, walking off.

I followed him. “I’m worried about you,” I said, putting my hand on his arm.

He pulled away. “Don’t.”

I watched him walk off down the hallway.

When the last bell of the day rang, I went straight to his car. I leaned against it, waiting.

It wasn’t long before I saw him walking toward me, or toward the car rather.

“What are you doing?” he asked, putting the key in the lock.

“I need a ride.”

“Ride the bus.”

“I’ve already missed the bus.”

He opened the door. “What is it you want, Annie?”

“A ride home.”

He sighed, looked off toward the football field. “Fine.”

We didn’t say anything on the way home. It was a short but painful drive. The words wouldn’t seem to come to me. I didn’t want to talk to him when he was driving anyway. I wanted his full attention.

“Do you want to go over the bridge?” I asked.

“I gotta get home.”

We pulled up in front of my house. “Can you come in? I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I won’t get out of the car until you agree.”

“Fine,” he said like he was disgusted with me. “Let’s get this over with,” he added, slamming the car door.

We went inside.

“Let’s sit down,” I said, gesturing to the couch.

But he wouldn’t. He just stared out the window. “So you’re with that Tommy guy,” he said.

I wanted to tell him the truth. “Not yet. But I think I will be.”

He turned around and stared at me. “He doesn’t know you like I know you. How long has he known you? A month? I’ve known you since we were kids.”

“Yes, Mark, since we were kids,” I said, sitting on the couch.

He stared at me. “Why did you want me to come in here?”

My eyes were burning. “Sit down,” I said. “Please.”

He sat in Dad’s chair.

I took a breath. “I wanted to tell you that I care about you, Mark. And that I’m really sorry I did this to you.” His sadness clutched at my heart.

He took a ragged breath. “Annie.” He looked defeated. “I don’t know how to be without you,” he said, gazing at me with sudden desperation in his eyes. “You’ve been my whole life.”

It tore me up to see him this way. And to know I had done it. “I wish I felt differently.”

“Why him, Annie? Why him?”

“It’s not just about him, Mark. He was what triggered it, yes. That, and
Challenger
, in a way. But I’ve felt this way for a while.”

“Are you going to stay here after graduation to be with this guy?”

“If I stayed here, it wouldn’t be because of him.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“I don’t understand either.” I looked off, fighting tears. “But I can’t make decisions about my life based on other people, on what they want me to do, or even on who they are to me.”

“So you’re going to go through life by yourself, Annie?” he asked. “You’ve got some sort of romantic idea about it, like you’re this island, and you’re cool because of it, because you don’t want to be attached to anyone.”

“We’re so young, Mark. One day, I might settle down. But right now, I can only think of what I want. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, figuring out what I want, regardless of what everyone else wants for me, or even who I want to be with. I’m eighteen years old. That’s it. I’m only eighteen. I get to figure out who
I
am right now. I get to figure out what my life is going to look like.”

“And your life doesn’t include me?” His face contorted, but he held it together, looking at me steadily.

“I wish it could,” I whispered.

“We could just be friends. Still do stuff together.”

“I wish we could. But, Mark, I don’t think you can just be friends with me. I don’t think that’s going to be enough for you right now. Maybe later. But not right now.”

“And so, our time together, which has been practically our whole life, is just gone. It just meant nothing.”

“Oh, Mark. It meant so much.”

“But it’s over for you. You won’t miss it? You won’t miss me?”

“I already miss you. But life is about loss too,” I said, trying very hard to get the words out. “You’re one of my losses, and I’m one of yours.”

“And this is what you wanted me to come over for?” He stood. “Great. Just great.”

“I wanted to talk to you in private. Without everyone at school. I don’t like seeing you in pain—”

“Too bad, Annie. I can’t make that better for you. You’re just going to have to see me in pain.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Part of you did.”

“You won’t always feel this way. Not always.”

He gave me one last look and then walked out the door.