The Sweetness of Salt (2 page)

chapter

2

Sitting in the back of Dad’s car the next morning, I took a slow, deep breath. My anxiety, which was already on a steady incline, shot up as I caught sight of my reflection in the rearview mirror. A gold graduation cap was set neatly on a head of straight brown hair, parted in the middle, and tied back in a ponytail. My white face, accentuated by a high forehead, half-circles under my eyes, and chipmunk cheeks, had a deer-in-the-headlights kind of look to it. Even my lips, which I had painted with a light pink gloss, had a sad, ridiculous sort of quality to them, like I was trying too hard.

God. How could I have ever thought that Milo would be attracted to me? I was the quintessential nerd, the exact opposite of his free-spirited, poetic whatever the heck he was. School was my thing. School and grades. To perfection. And I had done it. In less than an hour, Principal Bellas would introduce me as the valedictorian of my whole class. Out of three hundred and seventy-seven students, I had come out on top. First. The head cheese, as Dad liked to say. Numero uno. It was definitely something to be proud of. The first of many larger steps to come.

I closed my eyes, whispering the first line of my speech in my head. “Fellow graduates, Superintendent Ringold, Principal Bellas, Vice Principal Elias, family and friends, welcome.”

Mom and Dad came racing out of the house then, Mom in front, Dad turning to double check the door and straighten the welcome mat.

“Hurry, John!” Mom called, getting in the front seat. “She can’t be late!”

“Here I am,” Dad said, collapsing into his seat. “We’re all set.”

Mom had put on too much perfume. The cloying scent, combined with the mid-morning air, already thick with heat, was starting to make me nauseous. On the seat next to me was an enormous assortment of red and pink roses, which Mom had put together just this morning at the florist shop. I rolled down my window and closed my eyes. Underneath my gown my phone started buzzing.

“Where r u?”
Zoe’s message read.

“Just left,”
I texted back.
“Be there in 10.”

“Dad,” I said, leaning over his shoulder. “Can you hurry? I was supposed to be there five minutes ago.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” he said, stepping on the gas again. “I think the whole damn town is going to the same place. Hold on.”

Mom braced herself as Dad made a hard right on Walnut Street, and sighed deeply as he settled back into traffic. “It’s so nice that Sophie’s coming, isn’t it?” she asked.

Sophie was my older sister. She was eight years older than I, and had left Silver Springs when I was in fifth grade. She lived somewhere in Vermont now, working as an aide in an old persons’ home. Every so often she graced us with a sudden appearance, descending on Silver Springs amid a flurry of demands, cigarette smoke, and her perpetual negative attitude. Her departures were just as abrupt, leaving Mom and Dad (and me, back when I cared) in a state of complete disarray. I was not exactly looking forward to seeing her.

Mom turned to look apologetically at me. She had accidentally let Sophie’s secret out of the bag, letting it slip last night at dinner. “Please don’t let on that you know she’s coming, Julia. She really wanted to surprise you.”

“Mom.” I cocked my head, trying not to let my annoyance show. “You’ve told me that at least ten times already. Don’t worry. I won’t let on that I know.”

“All right.” Mom smoothed down the front of her dress. “Just making sure.”

I rolled my eyes. Mom always tiptoed around Sophie. She had forbidden all of us, for example, from referring to the “Milford years”—ever—in Sophie’s presence. Milford was the little town she and Dad and Sophie had lived in before I was born. Apparently, those seven years or so hadn’t been the happiest in our family history. Dad’s law firm hadn’t been doing well and he had been drinking too much, which led to a lot of arguments. Now, twenty years later, Sophie never let a visit slip by without some sort of reference to that time. She just couldn’t let it go—no matter how much Mom and Dad begged her to. It was this insistence of hers—this immaturity, really, to keep punishing Mom and Dad like she did—that made me so wary and resentful of her.

“Why isn’t Goober coming?” Dad asked suddenly.

“Sophie said it was Greg’s weekend, but that she was going to try to get him to switch,” Mom said.

Goober was Sophie’s four-year-old daughter. Her real name was Grace, but Sophie had started calling her Goober in the hospital, and the nickname had stuck.

“I hope she does,” I said. “Sophie always acts more human when Goober’s around.”

“Julia!” Mom turned around, looking disapprovingly at me.

“It’s true!” I said. “And you know it! When Goober’s here,
she’s
the baby. There’s no room for Sophie to throw one of her temper tantrums.”

Mom glanced over at Dad and then settled back in her seat. “No one will be throwing any temper tantrums,” she said quietly. “It’s going to be wonderful.”

I caught Dad’s eye in the rearview mirror. He winked at me.

“And even if the baby can’t come, it will be so nice just to have the four of us all together again,” Mom said. “I can’t even remember the last time we were under the same roof.”

“Christmas, Arlene,” Dad’s voice sounded far away. “The two of them were just here at Christmas.”

“Actually, it was last Christmas,” I said.

Dad had a way of blocking out a lot of things when it came to Sophie. Time was one of them. I didn’t blame him, though. Sophie put him through a lot of crap whenever she was here. I probably would’ve figured out a way to block it out too.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter…” Mom’s voice drifted off the way it did when she had stopped talking to anyone in particular. She turned around suddenly and put her hand on my knee. “Oh, Julia. We’re just so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And I know I’ve already said this a million times,” Dad said, looking at me in the rearview mirror again, “but I’m thrilled that you’re going to my alma mater.”

Wellesley had been my first choice for college and I’d been accepted, but the University of Pittsburgh had offered me a full ride. There was no way I was going to put up a fuss about not attending Wellesley, which had only offered partial scholarships and would have required Mom and Dad to pay thousands of extra dollars a year. Especially since after Pittsburgh, there would be law school.

“I know,” I said. “It’s gonna be great.”

Someone in the line of cars began to honk, which sparked a flurry of more honking. I glanced at the digital clock above the radio. Ten thirty-nine. I was supposed to have been in line at ten thirty. The ceremony was going to start at eleven.

“I gotta go,” I grabbed my speech and shoved the door open. “I’ll just walk the rest of the way.”

“In the eyes!” Dad yelled, using one of his attorney mantras. “Remember to look ’em right in the eyes! And don’t let ’em see you sweat!”

I broke into a run as I spotted the line of yellow gowned students ahead.

There was no turning back now.

It was showtime.

chapter

3

I led my class out of the auditorium as the last stomachache strains of the orchestra faded behind us. My speech had been flawless. Not a single
uh
or
um
. No unnecessary pauses, no word stumbles. It was like I’d gone on autopilot. From start to finish. The crowd had approved too, cheering wildly when I finished. A few people even jumped up and pumped their fists in the air. One of them had probably been Sophie. I sat back down in my chair on stage, folded my hands, and felt my stomach plummet.

We were graduated. Done with Silver Springs High. Forever.

It was a slightly amazing feeling. I slowed as the foyer came into view, trying to absorb it.

“Jules!”

My heart flopped like a fish as Milo walked up to me. “Hey!”

For a split second, I wondered what he would do if I buried my nose into the front of his gold gown. “Hi,” I said.

“I tried to find you before, to wish you luck,” Milo said, “but I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, I was late. I was kind of hiding from Mrs. Soprano, and then I had to get in line…”

Wait. How were we talking like this all of a sudden? We hadn’t exchanged this many words since…well, since that horrible night at prom.

Milo nodded. “You did great,” he said. “Your speech, I mean. It was incredible.”

“You think so?”

“The Auden quote was perfect.”

“That was for you,” I wanted to say. “I researched all the scary truth tellers until I found a quote that you might notice.”

“Yeah, my dad found that,” I said. “He loves Auden.”

“It was brilliant,” Milo said. “Especially right at the end like that. It really made it stand out. Gave everyone something to chew on, you know?” There were little specks of gold in the green of his eyes, and his hair had just been cut. A tiny dot of dried blood sat just under his nose, where he had cut himself shaving.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll make sure to tell my dad.”

People were pushing past us on all sides, trying to get outside. Off to the right, Melissa Binsko, who had just gotten a boob job and was voted Most Likely to End Up on a Reality Show, was screaming and clutching a gaggle of girls. But at that moment I was all alone, standing in front of Milo. “Please,” I thought to myself. “Please, Milo.”

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but then his eyes shifted as the girls in the corner squealed again. “Okay, well, I’ll see you around,” he said. And then, “Hey, Melissa! Melissa! Wait up!”

I stood there for half a second, just blinking.

“Julia!” Milo’s vacancy was filled suddenly by Zoe and Sophie and my parents, all of whom draped themselves over me. “Oh, Julia, congratulations! Your speech was perfect. We’re so proud of you. Look who’s here, Julia! Look who it is! It’s Sophie! She came all the way down from Vermont just to see you. We need pictures! Come outside where the light is good. Where’s the camera? Who has the camera?”

I could hear their voices, see their bright faces bobbing up and down like so many buoyed lights. But the only thing I felt as they dragged me outside onto the front steps and arranged me like a paper doll in their arms was that I was moving farther and farther away from the only person I wanted to be with at that moment; and who, once again, had disappeared right in front of my eyes.

We split up after pictures, Mom and Dad going to their car, Zoe and I scrambling into Sophie’s old green VW Bug. I got in the passenger seat next to Sophie and rolled down the window. A few of the roses Mom had given me were already wilting, and my armpits were starting to sweat. A pop sounded in the backseat as Zoe cracked open a Dr Pepper. “Woo-hoo!” she yelled, as a little foam spilled out of the top of the can. “Here’s to Julia! The smartest chick in Silver Springs!”

I turned around and glared at Zoe. “Chill!” I mouthed the word soundlessly, tilting my head in Sophie’s direction.

Zoe nodded, unfazed, and took a swig of soda. She sat forward a little in between Sophie and me, and yanked at her T-shirt, the front of which said
IT’S LONELY AT THE TOP, BUT YOU EAT BETTER
. Zoe had a thing for weird T-shirts. “Thanks for giving me a lift, Sophie. My parents are parked all the way in the back. It’s gonna take them over an hour to get out of here. The parking here sucks.”

“No prob,” Sophie said. She had twisted her usually free-flowing blond hair into a knot and was wearing a pale pink slip dress that displayed both of her upper arm tattoos prominently—something Mom was sure to comment on. Her toenails were painted an electric blue, and she had a thin silver toe ring on her left foot. She waved a package of Camels in the air. “Anyone mind if I smoke?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically.

“Actually,” Zoe giggled, “could I have one?”

I gave her another look, but Zoe just shrugged.

Sophie laughed and pulled two cigarettes out of the pack. “That was a kick-ass speech you gave.”

I opened my window as Sophie lit both cigarettes with the button lighter in the car. She handed one to Zoe, who took it, inhaled, and immediately began to cough. Her eyes, already as large as zinnias, grew to planet proportions.

“Open your window,” I said, glaring at her. “It’s bad enough up here.”

The car moved forward another foot. Sophie clenched the wheel. The muscles under her arm tattoo were tight. “Seriously, Jules, that speech was fantastic. You were so clear, so concise. And you spoke with such conviction. Everyone in the whole place was just holding their breath.”

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. It was hard to know sometimes when Sophie was being sincere. “Thanks,” I said cautiously.

“And can you even believe Melissa Binsko invited everyone to her party tonight? Including me?” Zoe leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m just a lowly junior. Un-friggin’-believable.”

“Who’s Melissa Binsko?” Sophie asked, looking at me.

“Just a girl in my class.” Melissa Binsko had said all of maybe three words to me in the four years we had gone to school together. The last time I had seen her in the hall, she’d been draped all over Milo. “We’re not even friends, but Zoe is going to have a heart attack if we don’t go.”

“Dude!” Zoe said. “Who cares if we’re not friends? Do you know how much money that girl’s family has? Come on! It’s gonna be the coolest party of the entire year!”

“So you’re just interested in going because she has money?”

“Money, great food, a pool, and a hot tub.” Zoe ticked off the items on one hand. “Um…
yeah
?”

“Whatever.” I turned to look at my sister. “So why couldn’t Goober come?”

“Greg wouldn’t switch weekends. You know how he can get.”

Actually, I didn’t know how Greg could get. I didn’t know Goober’s father at all. Neither did Mom and Dad. He and Sophie had split up early in her pregnancy and had never gotten back together. “Well, tell her I miss her,” I said. “To Pluto and back and around again to infinity.” That was Goober’s and my pet phrase. Goober had made it up. We said it all the time before we had to say good-bye.

Sophie made a gesture with her chin. “Will do.”

“So, Sophie.” Zoe brought her cigarette to her lips and inhaled, a little more confidently this time. “How’s Vermont?”

“Actually, I just moved,” Sophie said.

I glanced over at my sister again. This was news.

Sophie pushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Not very far from where I used to be in Rutland, though. I bought a little place in a town called Poultney.”

“Is that still in Vermont?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. Right on the New York border.”

“Do Mom and Dad know?”

Sophie shrugged. “No. But I just moved a few weeks ago. And I was going to tell everyone tonight at dinner.”

“Why’d you move?” Zoe asked.

“Well,” Sophie said, taking another drag from her cigarette, “I’m opening a business.”

I stared at her. “You
are
?”

“Awesome!” Zoe gushed. “What kind of business?”

“A bakery,” Sophie said. “Just a little one.”

“A bakery?” I struggled to suppress a wave of annoyance. It was embarrassing that I only knew as much about my older sister as my best friend did.

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “I’ve always wanted to open a bakery. And I’ve been saving for years. So when things finally started coming together, and I saw this place, I decided the hell with it, I was just gonna do it.” She took a drag on her cigarette. “It’s not in the best of shape right now, but I have the rest of the summer to work on it. I’m planning on opening for business in September.”

“What does Goober think?” I asked.

“Oh, she loves it!” Sophie said. “Seriously. She’s so excited.”

“Do you have to learn how to bake?” Zoe asked. “I mean, you’re the one who has to make everything, right? Or are you going to hire someone to do that for you?”

Sophie smiled slightly. “No, I can bake,” she said. “Right, Julia?”

I stared straight ahead, annoyed suddenly by something I couldn’t name. “Yeah.”

She nudged me with her elbow. “Remember all that stuff I used to make in high school?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ve been working on my muffins for years,” Sophie said. “And I want to sell fresh bread and pies. Maybe some cakes too.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” I said.

“It is,” Sophie replied promptly. “That’s the fun of it.”

“What’s it called?” Zoe asked.

“I haven’t decided on a name just yet,” Sophie said. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Cool.” Zoe sat forward, holding on to the back of my seat again. “I’m gonna think of something good.”

“Yeah.” I felt tired all of a sudden, as if the morning’s events had just caught up with me. “That’s great.”

For a second, like a balloon floating by, I wondered where Milo was, what he was doing. And then, as the car began to move, the balloon disappeared, floating up past the trees until it was just a pinpoint of color against the sky.