Wherever You Go (33 page)

Grandpa Aldo gave him a long look, holding eye contact for several seconds. "You take care of her," he said in a slow, deliberate sentence.

Jason frowned at him. "Sorry? What was that, Aldo?"

Grandpa Aldo nodded, his eyes bright. "Roberto, he says take care of Holly."

Lena nudged Jason. "That's his invisible friend," she said.

"Yeah, I remember," he said. "Roberto said this, huh?"

"Yes. He can't leave yet. Not until..."

"Oh ... okay."

Holly emerged from the dark hallway. Her eyes were red rimmed, her hair mushed back into a messy ponytail. Jason's heart dipped in his chest. God, had he caused all that somehow? He hated seeing her so obviously upset.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," he said, pushing away his bowl of soup.

"So, you're here. How's the soup? Terrible?"

"Tastes like soup," he said, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

"I look like crap," she said, crossing her arms.

"No you don't," he said, and he meant it. Maybe it was being away from her for a few days—but it was almost like seeing her in this imperfect state made her more beautiful to him.

"Listen to me," Aldo said, suddenly standing up from the table. He pointed an index finger at Holly. "It's not your fault. It was my fault," he said.

Holly reached out to stabilize Aldo and help him back down into his chair. "Sit down, Grandpa. What the heck is going on?"

Aldo's blue eyes focused intently on Holly. "That night. It was not your fault," he said.

Jason put a hand on Aldo's shoulder. "It's all right, Aldo."

He pushed Jason away and reached out for Holly's hands. "Listen! Roberto!"

Holly let out a sigh. "Jason, you should go. He's having a bad night."

"You sure you don't want me to help?"

"No. You can't help."

"What's happening? Papa, what's wrong?" Holly's mom charged into the room. "Holly, what's going on?"

Aldo jumped in his chair at the loudness of her voice, spilling the remains of his soup in his lap.

"Oh, no." Holly's mom grabbed a tea towel and started to clean up the mess.

"Everyone, chill," Holly said, holding up her hands. "Mom, you keep getting ready for work. Jason, you just go."

"I, uh..." Jason got up from the table. "Well, can we talk later, or...?"

"Later is more of the same," Holly said, exasperation creasing her face. "Please go."

Unsure of what to do, Jason moved toward the doorway.

"Holly? You're going to be that rude to Jason?" her mom said.

"I can't deal right now," Holly said.

"It's fine. It's fine," Jason said, seeing the chaos unfolding. "I'll leave." He pulled out a small envelope he wanted to give Holly, but she wasn't paying any attention. She was leaning over Aldo, trying to clean up the soup.

Giving up, he walked to the hallway. Holly's coat was hanging on a hook near the door, so he slipped the envelope into her pocket. He hoped she'd find it in a quieter moment. The last thing he needed was for her to read his note when she wasn't ready to hear what it held.

As the door shut behind him, Jason stood listening to the sounds from Holly's apartment. To the sounds of his own heart pounding. "It's worth it," he said aloud.

And he had to believe it. Had to believe that the way he felt about Holly was bigger than all her problems—that maybe she would feel the same way about him if she ever got a chance to let herself feel something.

***

This is all going to shit. You watch Jason leave withoon terut telling Holly how he feels, without telling her about the envelope in her pocket, which you're sure will change everything. You watched him write the note last night, noticed him carrying it around, waiting for the right moment.

But to top everything off, Aldo's pissed because your little attempt at communicating with Holly has caused this whole meltdown. "Roberto!" he says, waving his hand at you to just go away.

And you do.

But you're back the next morning, hanging out in the apartment, trying to keep Aldo company. You're hoping for another opening to talk to Holly, for a moment of focus and clarity with Aldo. Holly's been sleeping all day again, avoiding school. She seems to have given up on something—on herself.

"Geez," Aldo says, watching you hanging out by the television. "You got nowhere to be?"

"You know I don't."

"Let me ask you something, kid. You think when you go into the light, it'll be all that bad?"

"I don't know. I'm kinda looking forward to it now, though."

"I'm going to see my Gloria," Aldo says, nodding his head slightly. "I wonder if she'll be young as when I first met her. Do you think we get to choose?"

"Aldo, why are you talking about the dead stuff?"

"It doesn't bother me to talk about it."

"But you're still living. You still get to enjoy some good stuff about life."

"You see the way they live around me here," Aldo says. "All these weeks, you see how Julia barely notices me. Lena tries to talk to me, but Holly's the only one who looks into my eyes and still sees me there." His voice tightens.

You let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, man."

"You've said that before, kid."

"So, um, is there something you want me to say to your family? You know, if we get a chance? I mean, forget about all the stuff I want to say and think about yourself. What should Holly know? What do you want to tell Julia?"

Aldo's eyes mist. "You would actually help me, kid?"

"Yeah. Of course. We're friends, right?"

His smile is suddenly so bright. "Yes. We are."

"Good. I was hoping you'd let me do something for you for a change," you say. And your transparent heart feels a little bigger in your chest.

"Tonight. Tonight we'll try," Aldo says, leaning back in his chair to rest.

Before it's too late
.

"I thought the caterer would be here by now," Mona said, clacking her way into the kitchen on her high heels. "Are they running late or ... why are you not ready?"

Jason muted the baseball game on TV. "It's not happening, Mom."

She set the giant sheet cake she was carrying on the counter. "Honey, it's your birthday."

"I cancelled the party."

"What? That's nonsense. I'm sure all your friends were planning to show."

"Why did you get the cake? I told you I was going to call it all off."

Mona walked over to the couch and sat down next to her son. "She wasn't at school again today?"

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

Jason shrugged, dreading the talk that he felt was coming from her. "It's fine."

"No, it's not fine. It hurts." She slid an arm around his shoulders.

He remembered before, when Rob died, wanting his mom to do just this—put her arms around him in comfort. For her to acknowledge just how shitty everything was for him. But now that it was happening over a stupid broken heart, it just felt like too much.

"I'm okay," he said, sliding out from under her arm.

Hurt flashed in his mom's eyes, and she settled her hands in her lap. "Of course. You're a grown man today. I didn't mean to baby you."

"Oh, God. Not you too, Mom," he said, noticing her misty expression. "I can't do anything right. Don't cry."

"She was crying?"

"Yeah, it looked like she'd been crying before I got there last night," he said. "Over the stupid stuff going on at school. Over me, maybe. And I wanted to make everything right, you know? I went over to put it all back together."

His mom patted him on the knee. "You're a good man."

"It didn't matter to her."

"You don't know that. Now, let's let go of the doom and gloom for a little while. It's your birthday," his mom said softly. "Come have a slice of cake with me at least."

He stood up and let her cut him a piece covered with chocolate frosting. A corner piece with part of the pinwheel decoration and a big J. The forkful he lifted to his mou of moftth tasted like sand, but he ate it, just to make her smile.

The simplest things should make a person happy. Happy should be simpler than it never was.

***

"Holly? I'm hungry."

Light spilled in through the open door. I groaned and rolled over in my bed, pulling the sheets up.

"Mom said to ask you to make me grilled cheese for dinner."

I ignored Lena, forcing my eyes closed because the light through the thin flowered sheet was annoying.

"She's going to work, and she doesn't have time to make it for me," whined Lena. "Please?"

"I'm off duty," I said, still under the covers. "Just eat some cheese."

The door closed, and I sank back into the cool dark. Then the door opened again.

"Dammit, Holly. Get up. I need you." Mom clicked on the overhead lights. "I can't take much more of this."

"Much more of this," I repeated under the sheet. "Awesome."

Mom came over and sat down on the bed. "Holly, you need to get up."

I pulled the sheet off my head and sat up. "I don't feel like it."

"We all have to do things we don't feel like doing," Mom said, parroting a parenting classic she must have heard somewhere. I think I'd used it on Lena when she refused to take the garbage out.

"For once, I just want to be left alone. Can I not get that?"

"No." Mom stood up. "Grandpa and Lena are both in a mood, so make sure you get them to bed early. They're watching TV together right now. I've got to get going."

"God, Mom. Can you—can you just call in sick? I don't want to be in charge. I just want to be left alone."

A piercing scream came from the kitchen.
Lena
.

I bolted out of bed, jumping over Mom, and rushed down the hall. Lena stood up on a chair with the block of cheap cheddar cheese on a cutting board and a knife in her hand.

As I swooped her up, she dropped the knife on the board. Blood ran down her thumb.

"Oh, God. Lena!"

"I just wanted some cheese," she said, red faced, crying. I wrapped a dishtowel around her hand, pressing against the slice in the skin. It was bleeding a lot, but it was small. I settled into the kitchen chair, Lena on my lap, balled u la new romanp small as a toddler. I hugged her close, rocking her. The last thing I had wanted was for her to hurt herself. My heart pounded with guilt.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Mom said, looming above us.

"It's not that bad," I said. "No stitches."

"Mommy, can you stay?" Lena craned her neck around my head to see Mom. "I-I want you to stay."

A flash of guilt crossed Mom's face. "I'm on in half an hour, sweetie. Holly will get you bandaged up."

More tears ran down Lena's chubby cheeks. She didn't say anything to Mom, just snuggled in closer to me.

Mom gave me a look that was annoyance mixed with gratitude and then kissed Lena on the forehead. "I'll call later to check in on you guys," she said.

And then the door closed and Mom was gone. Once again, I had the feeling of being alone. Of being unheard. And even
I
didn't care for a moment. I just wanted my little sister to stop crying.

She didn't deserve to have a mom who had to work so hard. She didn't deserve to have a sister so selfish that she'd rather hibernate than cook a freaking sandwich for a little kid.

Even with all the things piled on top of me the way they were, my family meant a lot to me. These years with Lena and weeks with Grandpa Aldo were not wasted. I loved them so much. And I hoped that maybe their lives were just a little better because I was there to help them.

Finally, Lena's tears died down.

I had her put pressure on the cut with the dishtowel while I rummaged in the junk drawer for the antibiotic cream and the bandages. And then I saw the card for the social worker from the senior center—
MS. SHIRLEY GRANGER
. It had been shoved back in the drawer, along with some medication instructions and an emergency contact list. I took it out of the drawer and set it on the counter.

Grandpa Aldo needed help.
We
needed help. And I hoped that Mom would realize that I needed help too.

I didn't mean to start crying as I bandaged up my sister's thumb, but I couldn't help it. This was not about any boy. This was about me and what I couldn't do on my own anymore. This was about me being overwhelmed. This was about me finally realizing Mom needed to get us help before I got so frustrated I walked away. And never looked back.

***

"I'm sorry," Aldo says.

It's been a long night for Holly, but you feel ready and Aldo's been resting up. Lena's now tucked in bed, her thumb expertly bandaged, her tears giving way to deep sleep. Holly and Aldo are just chilling in the living room. Both you and Aldo agree it's the right time.