The Edge of Juniper (22 page)

“Is it wrong for me to be having such a perfect day when my parents are going to get divorced?  For that matter, what about Celia?  Surely I shouldn’t be so happy when she’s so miserable.”

“I don’t think it works that way.  Feelings are layered.”

“Yeah.”

“Did Celia and Ronan really break up?”

“You mean, as opposed to our non-break-up break-up?”

He touched his toes to mine, and I wrapped my legs around one of his.

“Yeah, they broke up.”

“I bet they’re back together by the start of school.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.  They might boomerang, but I think she was with him because she wanted to distract herself from her troubles at home.”

We rolled onto our backs and stared at the ceiling.  “Fay?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you agree to stay my girlfriend for two more weeks in order to distract yourself from the troubles of
your
home life?”

I didn’t look at him.  “No.  It’s been a nice side-effect, though.  I haven’t thought about my parents much today, or about what my new life is going to be like.”

He picked up a length of my hair and wrapped it around his thumb while I continued to talk.  “It’s not like divorce is an uncommon thing.  I should keep it in perspective.  I shouldn’t over-react or be a baby about it.”  I had to take a pause there so I wouldn’t cry.  When I felt sure I wouldn’t, I continued.  “I wonder which parent will keep the house.  Or maybe they’ll sell it and both of them will buy new ones.”

Malcolm unwound my hair and slid one arm under my neck and the other around my waist.  He was quiet, so I kept talking.  “Will I have one birthday cake and they’ll both watch me blow out the candles and things will be stiff and awkward? Or will I have two and at each one I’ll feel like part of me is missing?”

I started to cry then; big, fat tears and big, fat sobs.  Malcolm held me while I did, and passed me a tissue at a crucial moment.  “Thanks,” I squeaked and sat up to blow my nose loudly.  “I should be embarrassed to cry like this in front of you, but I’m not.  How do you do that?  I must look a mess, all snotty and swollen.”

He reached out and pulled me back down beside him.  I closed my eyes, and they burned.  He touched a finger to each eyelid, as if he knew.  “Things are dark for you right now.  You’re walking in the darkness.  I can’t pull you out of it.  I can’t turn on a light.  But I will walk through it with you.”

I cried again, but that time it wasn’t because of emptiness.  I cried because I was overflowing.

18

T
he four of
us lay in a row on the grass, sweating.  The late afternoon heat was just as brutal as it had been at noon, typical for an Indiana August.  The shade of the tree was a small help, but I sure would have appreciated a breeze.

“Celia, let’s go for a swim.”  Paul had asked her to do things with him no fewer than twenty times in the last two weeks.

“No.”  Celia had turned him down each time.

Paul smiled in response.  “Okay.  We’ll just lie here and sweat to death.”

I was just glad they were all willing to hang out together at the same time.  I hadn’t wanted to divide up my remaining time, parceling out a few hours to each person.  I admit I’d made plenty of time to be alone with Malcolm this last week, but I tried to include Celia and Paul, and even Esta, when I could.

A few days ago, Celia, Esta, and I had a sleepover at Esta’s house.  It was everything I’d been hoping for from this summer, and I loved every minute.  I think it had the same effect on Celia and Esta, too.  We put away our worries for the night, and spent hours eating junk food, watching movies, and talking about life.  Celia surprised us both when she told us she planned to try out for the track team once school started.  She said she wanted a good place to put all her energy.

It had rained yesterday, and Celia, Paul, Malcolm, and I hung out in Malcolm’s garage.  He worked on stuff while I watched, and Paul and Celia argued.  It hadn’t taken as much convincing as I expected to get Celia to agree to it.  I think she was softening toward Paul.  She’d been telling the truth when she said she was done and was only going to listen to herself.  She wasn’t even bothering to ignore Malcolm when we saw him around town.

“You know we need to get up off this grass and go home.  Your parents might be there already,” Celia said to me.

“Just a little longer.”  My parents were coming to take me away.  The original plan was that they would stay a couple nights first, and enjoy some family time before heading back to Perry.  I didn’t know if that was still happening.  I fervently hoped they wouldn’t take away my last few days here.  I stretched my arms over my head, breathed in the hot, heavy air, and tried to memorize the moment.

Beside me, Celia sat up.  “You know what, Paul?  Let’s go get ice cream.”

“Really?  Awesome!”  He jumped to his feet in an instant.  “Crap, I didn’t bring any money.”

I could practically
hear
Celia roll her eyes.  “Good Lord.  I have some cash.”

Malcolm laughed.  He’d been quiet today.  We’d spent our remaining time in close proximity to one another, filling it with talking, playing, kissing, laughing, and a hefty dose of not looking past the present moment.

“Bye, guys,” Celia called as she and Paul walked away.  “I’ll see you back at the house in a little bit.”  She looked at me as she said that last part, and I could see she was sad that our summer together was nearly over.  It might not have been what either of us expected, but I still felt a pang when I thought of leaving her behind.

Malcolm rolled in the grass, and faced me.  I mirrored his movement, and scooted close until we were nose to nose.  I knew I should get up and go see my parents, but my heart was heavy in my chest, holding me in place like an anchor.  “Well—”

“Shh.  Don’t.  Not yet.”  He put his hands on either side of my face, and stared at me.  Eventually he lowered his forehead to mine, and we stayed like that, clinging to each other, for a long time.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me.  Meet my mom and dad.”

He laughed softly.  “Oh.  For a minute I thought you meant I should come with you back to Perry.”

“That, too.”

My aunt and uncle had never had a raging fight when my parents were around.  I never knew any of these backstage events until this summer.  Sure, they sometimes snapped at each other over burnt baked beans or mud tracked on the floor.  I had thought that was the extent of it, that normal bickering common to anyone who lives with other people.

I had been wrong, of course, and I knew it now.  I was still a little surprised at the capacity for humans to keep very important information secret.  Now I was one of the secret keepers.  Should I tell my parents what went on in the Young household when nobody was looking?

I knew that because my parents would be there, things would be like they were before, like I had imagined they
always
were, before I knew differently.  That was why I walked down the sidewalk and up the front porch to say hello to my mother proudly holding the hand of Malcolm Dearing.

My mom’s presence would keep the wolves at bay, and Malcolm’s presence would keep me safe in case they came crawling out of their cave.  I squeezed Malcolm’s hand as I stopped in front of my mom, noting Aunt Donna’s pursed lips out of the corner of my eye.

Mom’s eyes were swollen, like she’d been crying, and shiny, like she might cry again at any moment.  She glowed with the joy of seeing me, that smile that always told me she was glad I had walked into the room.  “Mom, this is Malcolm.  Malcolm, this is my mom, Olive.”

Mom stood up, and Malcolm let go of my hand to shake hers.  When they let go, she reached for me and hugged me tight.  She sat back down and pulled me down to the swing with her.  “Have I ever missed you,” she whispered fiercely in my ear.  “Let’s never do that again, huh?”

I bit back what I wanted to say, which was that I was likely to be apart from her half the time now that she and Dad were divorcing.   That would certainly amount to way more than eight measly weeks, which I had been happy to endure in the hopes that they could fix things and my family wouldn’t be destroyed.

“Where’s Dad?”  I knew the question was likely to start the conversation, which was fine by me.  I wasn’t in the mood to pretend everything was fine until the appropriate moment to talk about it arrived.

Mom looked down at her hands in her lap, and twisted her wedding band around and around her finger.  She was still wearing it.  I tried not to let that make me hopeful.

“He’s at home, Fay.  Sit by me.”  She scooted to the edge of the swing and patted the seat beside her.

Aunt Donna stood.  “I’m going to start supper and give you a chance to talk.  You should do the same, Mr. Dearing.”

I didn’t like that she called him that.  It was false respect, which I found worse than honest contempt.

“You want some help preparing dinner, Mrs. Young?  I peel a mean potato.”

I laughed, though I knew he was utterly sincere, but she just glared at him.  Mom looked puzzled.

“Malcolm, you can stay.  I want you to stay.”  I needed him to stay.

He sat on the rocking chair on the other side of the door.  I turned to face Mom.  “So you’re here to tell me you’re getting a divorce and Dad didn’t even come?  Why would he not be here?”  For days, I had been planning the things I would say to them, and was angry not to have my chance.

She didn’t seem surprised, like I thought she’d be.  “We hadn’t intended to talk to you about that until we got home.  I see it won’t wait.  Fay, he’s moving his things out.  Neither of us wanted you to be there for that, so this seemed like the best day to get it done.”

“So you got the house.”  I didn’t like the harsh way my voice sounded, but I couldn’t seem to tone it down.

She was silent.

“Where’s he going to live?”

“He’s not sure where he’ll end up permanently, but for now he’s going to stay with Uncle Nate.”

We swung slowly, the chain creaking.  “I don’t understand how you can talk about it without crying.”

“Oh honey, I’ve done so much crying.  There’s been shock crying and crisis crying, anger crying and grief crying.  There has even been acceptance and relief crying.  Right now I’m all cried out, but I’m sure I’ll cry again soon.”  She tilted her head towards me.  “
You’re
talking about it without crying.  Want to share how you’re doing?”

I stared ahead, and sucked my lips in while I thought about it.  “I think I knew it was going to happen as soon as you guys talked to me this spring.  I just didn’t want to listen, and then Dad wrote me a letter and I just knew.  Mom, I’m afraid.”  I glanced over at Malcolm.  He was intensely focused on my face.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re afraid of?”

“Everything is the opposite of what I thought it was.  You and Dad, Celia’s family…I feel like everything I knew is suddenly not true.”  The tiniest of sobs broke out of my throat.  “Like I don’t know what’s real, and I don’t trust even the ground I’m standing on.”  Tears came in earnest then, washing down my face and disappearing into my mom’s shirt as she pulled me into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Fay.  I’m sorry your dad and I couldn’t do it.”  She cried with me then, and I felt broken, and I felt her brokenness in return.  Somehow, it was comforting, and I wanted to feel my dad’s brokenness as well.  At least we’d all have that in common.

After a while I lifted my head from the safety of her shoulder and wiped my face.  She looked over at Malcolm and smiled a tentative smile.  She turned back to me.  “Look, we have ages to talk about all this stuff.  When we get back, you, me, and Dad will sit down and hash it out.  We’ll answer anything you need to know.  For now, you have a few more hours here.  I’m going to help Donna with dinner.  We’ll leave after we eat. Do you need help packing up?”

My eyes widened, though it was what I had feared.  “You’re not staying a few days?”

She hesitated.  “We need to get back, and talk to your dad.  He wants to see you.”

I was leaving Juniper in a few hours.  My heart pounded and I felt faint, but I just nodded.  “I’ll get Celia to help me pack after dinner.”

“Okay, then.”  She stood and put her hand on the screen door.  “It was nice to meet you, Malcolm.  I’m sorry the circumstances weren’t better.  Would you like to join us for dinner?”

I sputtered, but Malcolm remained composed.  “Thank you for the invitation, but I can’t.”

“All right.  I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again sometime, and maybe we’ll have dinner then.”  She looked at me with those shining eyes, and went inside.

Malcolm took her place on the swing.  “Well, that happened.”

I smiled sadly and swung my legs over his, gripped his shirt, and pulled myself as close to him as I could get.  “I’m really leaving tonight.”

“And I can’t stay for dinner.”

“No, you can’t.  Uncle Todd will be home in an hour at the latest.”

“Fay.”  His voice was despondent.  He breathed in my hair, and when he exhaled, heat spread over my scalp.  “You’re really leaving.”

I couldn’t speak, didn’t trust my voice.  We swung under the groan of the chain, clinging to each other.  I almost wanted him to squeeze harder, to leave a mark so that when I was lying in my bed in Perry, I could look down and be sure he had been real.  Maybe that was the reason people got tattoos.

“I still want you to hide me in your cabin.  I could be happy there.”

He didn’t say anything, so I looked up to see what he was thinking.  His face was crinkled up and his eyes were closed tight.  He was trying not to cry.  Once he was able to manage his feelings, he said, “Speaking of the cabin, I made you something and I stashed it there.  I was going to give it to you yesterday, but I thought if I waited, somehow it would give us more time.  As long as I have it, you aren’t gone yet.  But I guess we really are out of time.”

I stood, and pulled him to his feet by his hand.  “I want my present.”  I was pleased when he laughed a little bit, and he followed me off the porch.

It was an oval box.  He placed it in my open hand, and it was about half the size of my palm.  I turned my hand this way and that, examining it.  Smooth, no stain, raw wood.  “It’s perfect.”

“Now comes the part I’m a little embarrassed about.  Maybe you don’t want what’s inside, and that’s fine.  Just dump it out if you want.”

He had my curiosity piqued, so I lifted off the lid.  It came open with a satisfying pop, and I peered inside.  It was a small pile of wood shavings, all different colors from mixed woods.

I looked up at him, and he was nervous.  “I don’t know why I put that in there.  It’s stupid.”

“It’s stupid that you think it’s stupid.  Maybe the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.  This is perfect.  This way I’ll be able to open up the box and catch your scent whenever I want.  All I’ll have to do is pick a handful of grass and put it in here too, and it will be instant Malcolm.”  I brought the box to my nose and sniffed deeply.

Something moved in me, something that built up and broke down at once.  I started to cry, and he caught me in his arms, and held me close.  I breathed in until I thought my lungs would burst, holding the scent of his real self inside me.  I ached.  “Malcolm, the hurting has started.”

“Yes, it has.”  I heard the tremor in his voice.  “It’s hard to breathe.”

“It was worth it, but this really hurts.”

Saying good-bye to Malcolm felt like saying good-bye to my old hopeful self.  I didn’t want this experience to harden me, but I had no clue how to stay soft.  I kissed him one more time, let him hold me a little longer, whispered things to him, and listened to his whispers in return, and then I walked out of the cabin a changed person.  I hadn’t let Malcolm in easily, and I knew it was as easy as I would ever let anyone in again.