The Cost of All Things (23 page)

Every night that I spent sitting in Diana’s front yard, staring up at her window, I descended several rungs to a new, disturbing low. And yet I kept doing it, night after night. If my brothers knew what I was doing they’d lock me in my room for my own good, but I didn’t show up for breakfast anymore, so I didn’t have to listen to them decide how I should live my life.

I arrived at Diana’s yard soon after it got dark, and stayed until I fell asleep. Usually I’d wake up before daylight and wander home, sleepwalk through the day, and then do it all again. The vigil didn’t have a purpose or a goal. It was what I had to do.

It didn’t feel like I was making a statement. Not like I was trying to prove to Diana how much I loved her or anything. There was no hope that a voice would whisper in her ear,
See there? That guy wasting his nights in your yard? He must really be serious
. I didn’t feel more serious than I did the day before. It was relaxing, actually. That probably makes me sound insane.

I sat with my back against an oak tree and ate packaged
foods and drank Gatorade. The first night, Diana’s mom came out a few minutes after I’d settled myself. She glanced at my picnic with distaste, and at me with pity. To be pitied by a mom. The new levels of humiliation were almost funny, sometimes.

“Markos, honey? What’s going on?”

I considered not answering her, but it was her house, and I didn’t need her calling the cops on me. Diana had told me how protective she was. “Nothing.”

“Because I don’t think Diana wants to see you.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t ring the doorbell.”

“So . . . you’re going to stay out here?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Because otherwise I might never leave my house again
. “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

Mrs. North nodded. “Well, yes, and I hope she does . . . but maybe it would be better for you to wait for her to call? At home?”

“I’d rather wait here.”

She nodded again, then picked a leaf off the tree above her head and worried it through her fingers. “It’s nice to see your dedication, of course, it’s just that . . . it seems like a lot of trouble to go to.”

I leaned back into the bark of the tree and closed my eyes. It was almost as if she was trying to bait me, but I was underneath too many layers of shit to be roused by something so stupid. “Ignore me, Mrs. North. I won’t bother you or Diana or Mr.
North. I’m only going to sit here for a while.”

After a second she shrugged and turned back to the house, dropping her leaf and brushing her hands like she was brushing away me and her daughter’s problems.

—She should’ve kicked me out.

—Why?

—I’m a menace.

—So leave.

—But I won’t hurt her again.

—Who says you won’t?

—I do.

—People hurt each other. It’s what they do. Nobody can decide they will never hurt again.

—But I’ll try not to. Doesn’t that count for anything?

—Is that why you’re sitting out here? To prove something?

—No. I just can’t think of anything better to do.

—So . . . staring at a window it is.

—Staring at a window.

—What’s going to happen?

—She’ll either come out and talk to me—

—Unlikely.

—Or I’ll stop wanting to sit here. I’ll get up and not care anymore. Either one would be fine.

The next night I found a blanket under the tree, presumably left by Diana’s mom. This was the person who’d cared for Diana her whole life. It was weirdly comforting that this same person was
now taking care of me.

It seemed, under the tree wrapped in the blanket with nothing to do but think, that I only had bad signs and bad memories to sort through and catalog. There were the mistakes I made, like kissing Kay, or the betrayals by others, like Ari spelling away Win and Diana lying about it. Then there were the memories that I thought were good at the time but have since turned rotten: anything Win-related, which meant my entire life, practically, from age five onward, and the more recent memories of spending time with Diana, from the diner parking lot continuing backward to the bonfire. All of those were tainted, too burning hot to touch.

I tried to think of nothing. Meditate, I guess you’d say. But my mind wouldn’t empty. No blank room to escape to.

I could only talk to myself and imagine futures less terrible than the one I was destined for.

I imagined dozing off under the tree and waking up with Diana curled up next to me.

I imagined walking into the hardware store and seeing my brothers and mom cleaning the place out, organizing everything into clearly labeled sections and rows that didn’t dead-end and backtrack.

I imagined a different set of brothers: ones who understood me like Win had.

I imagined falling asleep and waking up back in May, before any of this happened, and returning the money I stole from my mother, meaning no spells from that young hekamist, no last
night on the beach, and no funeral.

In that one—the time-traveling miracle—I imagined insisting to Ari that she bring Diana along when we hung out. I imagined that back then I wasn’t who I knew I was—and that I would’ve given Diana a chance and not screwed around on her and somehow we all would’ve been happy.

Yeah, right.

The rest of the time, I waited and watched.

On Friday, the fourth night I’d spent in Diana’s yard, my phone rang just as I got settled. It was Brian. I leaned my head back into a groove in the tree and answered it.

“What.”

“Markos, where are you?”

“Out.”

He sighed. I could hear the sounds of phones ringing and chatting in the background; he must’ve been at work. “Cal’s missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we can’t find him, dumbass.”

“He’ll probably be home in the morning.”

“No one’s seen him since before dinner last night. He didn’t open up the store. Mom’s freaking out.”

I knocked my head back into the tree’s trunk:
thump
,
thump
,
thump
. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Help Dev look. He’s checking out the beach. I get out in an hour and I’ll join you.”

“Do it yourself. You’re the cop,” I said, and I knew I sounded
like a dick, but I didn’t want to leave my post.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, not sorry at all. “Am I interrupting something? Are you performing open heart surgery? If so, I can call back.”

“Come on, Brian . . .”

“Mom said you’ve been staying out all night and not talking to her when you’re home. Nobody’s said anything, but maybe we should. This isn’t cool, Markos. It’s time to grow the fuck up. Be a member of the family. It’s not adorable to be the baby anymore when you’re eighteen years old.”

I thumped my head on the trunk too hard and winced. “I’m seventeen.”

“Just do this one thing, Markos. Cut the attitude and help find your brother. Then you can go back to whatever important moping you had planned.”

I looked up at Diana’s window. The light was on. If she peeked out through the curtains, I wouldn’t go. If I saw her shadow on the wall, I wouldn’t go. If the curtains moved even the tiniest inch, I wouldn’t go.

“Markos? You there?”

I stared at the window, wishing so hard. Hoping.

But the curtain never moved, and I never saw her face.

“Fine,” I said, and hung up.

I tried not to look at Diana’s window as I walked away, but I couldn’t help imagining that I saw the curtain twitch out of the corner of my eye. Of course when I stopped at the end of her driveway and looked back, there was nobody there.

When I couldn’t hold out any longer and tried to reach Diana and Ari on Friday night, Ari wouldn’t talk to me for more than a few seconds, and Diana wouldn’t pick up the phone. I left her message after message, but she never called me back.

Hey, it’s Kay. Just calling to . . . yeah. Let’s talk.

Diana, it’s Kay. I was thinking about you. Call me.

We don’t have to hang out. You don’t have to talk to me. Only text me that you’re okay.

Me again. Call me.

Call me.

When you get this, call me.

Ari wasn’t much help. Her sigh came through the phone loud and clear. “I don’t want to talk to you, Kay.”

“But Diana . . .”

“She probably doesn’t want to talk to you, either.”

“She has to. Every three days. What if she tried to leave town and something happened to her? What if she’s hurt and
she can’t come see me?”

“It seems more likely that she’s pissed at you,” Ari said. “Maybe you should respect her choice.”

“You don’t get it—she doesn’t have a choice.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear how the words sounded, and they sounded bad, but it didn’t make them any less true.

“Have you talked to her?” I asked.

There was another, differently weighted pause. “No. Things have been . . . weird. In case you haven’t noticed.”

“So you don’t know,” I said, almost shouting. “You don’t know if she’s okay or not! You don’t know and you don’t care what happens to her!”

Ari’s voice turned ice cold. “That’s not true.”

“So call her yourself. Please? I get ignoring me, but she should pick up for you. . . .”

“I’m not your errand girl.”

“But I only want to know she’s okay! Ari? Hello? Are you there?”

She’d hung up on me.

Mina had walked in on me talking to Ari and stood there, watching. We were in the dark kitchen standing around the granite island. Mom and Dad were out to dinner, so there were four untouched twenties sitting on the island that we were supposed to use for takeout. Typical parental overkill.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re going to yell at me, yell. Don’t stand there judging.”

“Maybe you should leave them alone.”

I waved her away. “I can’t.”

“It seems like Diana doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“She has to talk to me.”

“It’s probably tough for her. I barely want to talk to you, and you’re my sister.”

“So don’t!” I snapped. “Stop pretending you care and leave me alone.”

“I care,” she said.

“Yeah, right.”

“I can’t believe you gave them that spell. What were you thinking, Kay?”

Despite everything that had happened and the fact that I really didn’t care what she thought anymore, something pinched right behind my heart. “It’s not that different from the beauty spell. It means I don’t have to be alone.”

“You took a beauty spell?”

I rolled my eyes. She had to be kidding. “I wrote you and told you about it. Obviously you were too busy to notice.”

She shook her head. “You never told me that.”

“I did! What, you think I got gorgeous overnight?”

“You were always pretty,” she said.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re my sweet sister. Everyone would love you if they got to know you.”

“Are you not paying attention? I’m not sweet little Katelyn.
I’m the bad guy. I hurt people. I’m a life-ruiner.”

Mina uncrossed her arms and took a step around the island to get closer to me. I took a step back. “You’re not a bad guy.”

“Really? If I’m so great, why would you leave me?”

All the air was sucked right out of the room. Mina didn’t say anything.

“I was useful when you were sick,” I said. My voice came out hard like the bar of iron through Mina’s eyebrow. “I was convenient. But now that you’re okay, who cares about stupid, ugly, friendless Katelyn?”

Mina clutched her left arm with her right hand. That was the IV arm. It used to get so sore she couldn’t accidentally bump against anything without screaming.

“That’s not what happened,” she said.

“Liar. It is. You got better and couldn’t
wait
to get out of here. To change everything about yourself.” I knew I should take a breath to calm down but I felt too full already; I had to let more out. “So I changed, too. I changed my face. And I found my own friends. Ones who wouldn’t leave me on a whim. Ones who couldn’t leave me.”

I pulled up Diana’s number again, muttering “Pick up, pick up,” under my breath. Mina left me alone in the kitchen and went out the back door of the house. She started her car and was gone before I could run to the window.
Fine
, I thought,
get out
. I didn’t need her distracting me.

Hey, Diana, it’s Kay. Duh. I’m . . . worried about you. Please call . . . yeah.

So many things could have happened. A sudden flu, a slippery step. Leaving the gas on or dropping the blow dryer in the tub. Diana could step off the curb without looking, or get into a fight with a stranger without knowing why.

All because I’d pushed her away.