The End of Forever (28 page)

Beth looked disappointed. “I was hoping that maybe we could go to a movie or something Friday night.”

Erin wanted to tell Beth that the big rehearsal was all day Saturday and that she would be free Friday night. But she’d made up her mind to do something else on Friday night.

Maybe losing it in front of David on the beach was what finally pushed her into it. Maybe it was the stark, raw anguish she kept remembering from that night when she’d shouted about how angry she was at Amy for dying. Erin didn’t know. She only knew she wanted to be happy again and think about dancing and college and her future. She wanted to be free of headaches and ghosts and the past.

“We’ll do something as soon as this play’s over, all right?”

“You’re on,” Beth said with a grin.

Erin had decided to attend Dr. Richardson’s grief support group meeting on Friday night. She would hear what others her own age had to say who’d lost family members. For a moment she was once again tempted to tell Beth about her therapy
sessions. And even though it would be nice to bring a friend along to the group meeting, Erin figured it was something she really should do on her own. Besides, Beth seemed to be doing all right now, especially because of the social worker she’d mentioned.

Debriding the wound,
Dr. Richardson had called it. Erin winced, thinking of the emotional pain that lay ahead of her. Was there really no magic balm?

“It’s good to see so many of you here tonight,” Dr. Richardson said. “And a special welcome to you newcomers.”

Erin looked nervously around the circle of chairs set up in Dr. Richardson’s conference room. She managed a self-conscious smile, certain that she was the only newcomer there. Ten other kids nodded, waved, and said hi. They all looked normal to her.
What did you expect?
she asked herself.
Do people who’ve lost family members wear marks on their foreheads?

“I’ve ordered pizza for everyone after tonight’s session,” Dr. Richardson said, and a cheer went up. “Will somebody tell me what kind of a week he or she had?”

Silence fell on the room, until an overweight boy of about twelve spoke. “My mom found the box of Twinkies I hid under my bed and blew up.”

“Why’d you hide them there?” a girl asked. “That’s the first place my mom always cleans.”

The boy shrugged. “I shouldn’t have had them, I guess.”

“Then why did you?” someone asked.

“My dad and I used to sneak into the kitchen at
night when everybody was asleep, and sometimes wed eat Twinkies together. I kind of feel like he’s still around when I eat them.”

“Sounds like an excuse to pig out to me,” a girl said with disdain.

The fat boy leapt from his chair. “That’s a rotten thing to say, Michelle! Take it back!”

Dr. Richardson interrupted. “But, Todd, you’ve been telling us for weeks that you want to lose weight. How can you if you sneak Twinkies?”

“I told you, it makes me feel like my dads still alive.”

“Well, I wish I
could
eat,” another girl said. “But my stomachs upset all the time. All my mother does is try to push food on me.”

“I’ll trade you,” Todd told her. “All my mom does is yell at me.”

Erin listened as others talked, feeling close to them even though they were strangers. A thirteen-year-old boy named Benjie said, “After my baby brother died in his crib last summer, my mom sort of freaked out too. She started staying in bed all day and cried all the time. Dad always had to make supper, but we just sat looking at each other at the table. He wasn’t a very good cook.

“Once I sneaked into the baby’s room, but it gave me the creeps. Everything was just the same, except the baby was gone. It was like everybody kept expecting him to come home. I really wished Mom would put his things away. I stepped on one of his rattles by accident and broke it. and Mom
slapped me. I cried. But I didn’t want to, because I’m too old to cry.”

His story sent shivers up Erin’s spine as she remembered the boxes and trunk stored in the garage. And now that Amy’s bedroom was her mother’s office, it seemed as if Amy had hardly lived with them at all.

“You know what gets me?” Kristy, a fifteen-year-old, said. “When my mom died of cancer, people came up to me and said, ‘The good die young.’ Was that supposed to make me feel better? Is dying some sort of reward for being good? If so, then I’m gonna be bad!”

Erin sympathized with Kristy’s anger. After Amy had died, some adults had told her, “Amy was so special that God must have wanted her with Him.” Erin had held her tongue, but she’d wanted to shout, “God’s got the entire world to choose from, and I’ve only got one sister. So why did He have to pick
her?”

“The things people say at funerals and wakes often do sound pretty empty,” Dr. Richardson said. “But expressing sympathy is an awkward thing to do, and it takes a lot of courage. At least the people who said something cared enough about you and your family to try.”

Dr. Richardson looked over at one boy who had propped his booted feet on an empty chair. “What do you think about being good, Charlie?”

Erin studied Charlie’s sullen expression, his black leather jacket, and his unkempt hair. “Oh, I’m

real good, Doc. Just ask Terry Parker. I made it with her real good last night.”

“That’s disgusting,” Kristy said.

“I can make it real good for you too, babe. Want to meet in my car after this is over?”

“That’ll do, Charlie,” Dr. Richardson said quietly.

Charlie dropped his feet with a thud and leaned forward. “Look, I’m here because the judge says I gotta be here. I don’t care about this little goody-goody group.”

“Good for you,” Todd said. “But the rest of us want to be here.”

“Butt out, Tubb-o.”

Dr. Richardson calmly shook her head. “I won’t allow name calling, Charlie. We’re here to build one another up. If you can’t be polite—”

Charlie stood abruptly and crossed to the door. “I’m out of here. Give my share of the pizza to Fatso.” He left, and Dr. Richardson excused herself and followed him.

For a moment no one spoke, and Erin could hear the clock humming on the wall. “Uh—what was his problem?” she finally asked.

Kristy fiddled with her bracelets. “He was driving drunk and hit another car head-on. His cousin was killed, and the guy in the other car is crippled for life.”

Erin’s eyes grew wide. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah,” Kristy agreed. “And Charlie walked away without a scratch. I guess that’s why we put up with him. He’s hurting like crazv. He made a bad
mistake, and he can’t change it. One time he sort of broke down and cried in front of us and said he wished it was him who’d died.”

The boy who’d been sitting next to Charlie added, “ ’Course it wasn’t, but Charlie keeps acting so hateful that maybe someday somebody will do him the favor of taking him out.’ ”

Erin shuddered. There was so much anger and guilt and pain in the room, and she wondered how she fit into it. She thought back to the night of Amy’s accident.

“What was she doing driving in the rain at night anyway?”
her mother had demanded.

“I let her take my car.”

“Why? Amy’s not an experienced driver. I’ve always counted on you, Erin, to have common sense.”

The door to the conference room opened, and Dr. Richardson came back in. “Charlie’s all right,” she assured them. “He’ll be back next week.”

“Whoopie,” Todd said sarcastically.

They talked some more, and the session passed quickly, and afterward, when the pizza arrived, she noticed Todd greedily grab for the first slice. Erin took a piece too, but she didn’t really want it. Her appetite had fled much as Charlie had. And worse, a tightening sensation was starting up the back of her neck. It was good to be around kids her age with similar problems, but not if it brought on a headache. She’d tell Dr. Richardson at her next counseling session that it was doubtful she could ever come back.

*   *   *

The backstage area was in chaos. The final performance of
West Side Story
had come off beautifully, and the applause of the audience still rang in Erin’s ears. “Weren’t we sensational?” Shara shouted, giving her a hug.

“Next stop, Broadway,” Erin called.

People swarmed around them, offering congratulations. Erin felt euphoric, but then performing always gave her a “high.” The cast kept telling her how good she and David had been. Erin kept smiling, searching the crowd for Beth, who didn’t seem to be there.

David nudged his way through the masses, scooped Erin up in his arms, and twirled her around. “Not too shabby, ‘Maria.’ So what do you say we change and head for the cast party?”

“I—uh—I’m not going.”

He looked stricken. “What?”

“No … I can’t go.”

“Why?”

“My folks are sort of paranoid, and they want me to come straight home. Cast parties have a bad reputation in our family. We were having a cast party the night Amy had the accident.” Erin knew she was telling a half truth.
She
was the one who didn’t want to go.

“Look, Erin, this might not be the time to bring it up, but you’ve been dodging me ever since the Spring Fling dance.”

“That’s not true,” she protested. but knew it was.

David pulled her to a more secluded area of the stage and took her by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you.”

“What’s wrong between you and me? I mean, when we were on the beach together, you were so open and honest.”

“I sort of lost it that night, David. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. Too much pressure—the play and all.”

“Well, the plays over.”

Erin’s heart thudded, and she avoided his eyes. “I know. And that means that I won’t be seeing much of you anymore.”

“But I want to see you.”

“Look, David, think about it. School will be out in a few more weeks, and this summer I’m probably going away, and even if I don’t, I
will
be going to FSU in the fall. What’s the point of us seeing each other?”

“What’s the point? The point is, I care about you, Erin, and I want to be with you. I thought you were beginning to care about me too.”

“Oh, I do like you.” She said it too quickly, and David gave her a skeptical glance. “I just don’t want to start something I can’t finish.”

“Like dating me?”

“You’ll always be a special friend.”
What a stupid, juvenile remark,
she told herself as soon as the words were out. Nothing was going the way Erin had planned. She didn’t want to hurt David, and she didn’t want to feel about him the wav she did
either. She glanced around. “Everybody’s starting to leave. I—uh—I’d better get going.”

David took her arm. His hurt expression had been replaced with one of determination. “You need me, Erin. No matter what you say otherwise, it’s as simple as that.”

She blinked, speechless.
Of all the conceited, arrogant
—she jerked her arm free. “I’m getting out of this city as soon as I can. I don’t need anybody.” His grin started, and he backed up slowly. “You think that’s
funny?”
she shouted.

“I told you once that clowns see the humor in everything. The good and the bad.”

“Well then, go ahead and laugh!” Erin was furious. She watched him walk away, and the last thing she heard was his whistling.

Erin moped around the house Sunday afternoon, feeling lost. She’d done her homework, TV was boring, her father was gone for the day, and her mother was driving her crazy with dumb questions about dumb things. She still wasn’t over her argument with David either. And as much as she hated to admit it, she missed him and wished she hadn’t handled things so badly the night before.

She was grateful when the phone rang. “Erin? It’s me, Beth.” Her friend’s voice sounded small and tight.

“What’s wrong?”

“We got the call this morning. They have a kidney for my mother. I’m at the hospital right now, and they’re prepping her for surgery. Can you olease come and wait with me?”

For Erin, walking back into the seventh-floor waiting room at the hospital was like stepping through a time warp. Memories of the days she spent by Amy’s side overwhelmed her, and she almost fled, but out of the sea of anxious faces of people waiting for news of family and friends, she heard Beth call her.