Between Here and Forever (3 page)

six

I head over to see Claire when I get to the hospital
after school the next day. She’s standing in the tiny alcove the hospital has set aside for smokers, hidden off to the far side of the building. Milford is a no-smoking town, and self-righteously proud of it, but Ferrisville isn’t, and since Milford people can afford to go to better hospitals—and do—this is where people from Ferrisville come. And a lot of them, like Claire, smoke.

I fan the air around me and her, and she makes a face at me.

“I thought you were quitting,” I say.

“I’m working on it.”

“How?” I squint, pretending I can’t see her through the haze of smoke.

She sighs and stubs out the cigarette. “Fine, Mother. Hey, what did you think of that guy yesterday?”

“He can make people walk into doors.”

She laughs. “That was the best, wasn’t it? You should see Eli when he’s working in the gift shop, though. People stop and just stare at him like this …” She makes a zombie face.

“You one of them?”

“No, I’m off guys forever after everything with Rick,” she says. “Trying to get him to pay child support—ugh.”

“Guys suck,” I say, and she shakes her head at me and says, “Yeah. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with all that crap. Tess always …” She trails off, like she’s said something she shouldn’t.

Like she’s said something I don’t know.

Like I don’t know that Tess is easy for anyone and everyone to love and I’m—I’m not.

“Hey, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with all the stuff Tess did. All those guys calling and telling her that they loved her, or sending her stuff, or wanting to take her out, and me? Well, I don’t have that problem at all.”

Claire bites her lip. “You know what I meant, Abby. You’re very—you have—”

“I have a sister I have to go see,” I say, stopping her before she has to try and finish her sentence. “And the sooner she wakes up, the sooner she can go back to breaking hearts. See you later.”

Look, I know I’m not pretty. As Tess once told me, not so much to be cruel, but just because she always wanted to know about our family and its history, I have my mom’s mother’s eyes, a muddy brown-green with weird blue flecks in them, and dark blond hair that likes to defy my brush and nature and just stick up wherever it wants to. Also, I’m built like a twelve-year-old girl. (That part no one had to tell me. It’s just obvious.)

And it would be fine if I was still twelve, but barely filling out an A cup at seventeen is pathetic. As is the fact that I can buy—and wear—boys’ pants because I’m barely five foot two. And also have no hips to speak of.

But now I know the guy I saw yesterday is Eli, and that he can be found in the gift shop. He must be fairly new to the hospital—I know everyone who works here—and I can work with that. I know what I saw yesterday.

I know what—who—Tess needs in order to wake up.

seven

I tell Tess his name as soon as I see her. She
doesn’t respond, but that’s okay. I bet she needs to hear his voice again. When she does, she’ll do what she did yesterday. She has to.

If Tess doesn’t wake up, then she isn’t—then she won’t
be
here. Not truly here, you know? And she’s always been the bright star my family revolves around. She’s been the person who people in Ferrisville talk about with reverence in their voices. Tess is pretty, young, kind—all the things people want each other to be. All the things people so often aren’t.

The only problem is, I don’t know how to get the guy up here. I think about it as I tell Tess about my day, mostly lingering on the candy bar I bought before last period because Tess is a sucker for candy. She even ended up living with Beth because of it.

When I went to visit them last fall, she told me she knew she had to swap roommates and move in with Beth the very first day she came to campus.

“I walk into my room,” she said, “and there’s this girl sitting on the floor eating a Nibby Bar. You know, the one with the cocoa nibs in it?”

I’d nodded and made a face because Tess’s love for bitter chocolate, up to and including chocolate with pieces of twiglike chocolate in it, made no sense to me.

“And I think, wow, this is going to be amazing, because I love Nibby Bars too,” Tess had said. “But it turned out Beth lives across the hall, and just stopped by to say hi. I knew things would work out, though. And they did!” She’d turned and grinned at Beth, who shook her head at Tess, but still smiled.

“How about some candy?” I ask Tess now. “A nice bar of chocolate, maybe? I’ll get you one, I swear. You just have to open your eyes.”

Tess doesn’t move.

“Fine,” I say, and my voice comes out more angry than I mean it to. I swallow hard and look at the floor.

“Someone wanted a copy of, um,
Sassy You
?” a voice says out in the nursing area.

The voice. It’s that guy. Eli. I hear someone else murmur something, but I don’t listen.

I don’t listen because behind Tess’s closed eyes, I see something move. I see her body hearing something. I see it responding.

I know what I have to do, and so I go out and say, “It’s mine. I mean, I want the magazine.”

The guy—Eli—looks at me. If I thought he was really looking at me, and not seeing someone who wanted a copy of the world’s stupidest magazine (and if I looked like someone he’d want to see), I swear my knees would melt. (That’s right, melt. Screw going weak. Eli is beyond that mortal power.)

“Um, excuse me, but I asked for that magazine,” one of the nurses says. “Mrs. Johnson loves it.”

Mrs. Johnson is in worse shape than Tess. She can’t even breathe on her own, and no one ever comes to visit her. I guess all her family is dead, or something. She just lies there in her room, all alone, day after day, air pumped in and out of her lungs, keeping her breath flowing, her heart beating. The nurses don’t pay much attention to her, and the first week Tess was here, I had nightmares about Mrs. Johnson every night.

I started sneaking into her room once in a while and saying hello to her, and the nightmares stopped. I still do it, and although I’ve never spoken to her, I’m sure Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t want a copy of
Sassy You
, with its stupid articles about how to get guys to want you “all the time!” and profiles of celebrities whose greatest achievements are tossing their hair around, smiling, and swearing that their latest trip to rehab “changed their lives.”

“So, who gets it?” Eli says, looking at the nurse and then at me. “I gotta get back down to the gift shop. Nobody else is there today.”

I point at the nurse and go back to Tess.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll—” What? I have no idea how to approach him. I don’t approach anyone.

But this is for Tess. For Tess to wake up.

“I’m going now, but I—I’m going to get Eli for you, okay?” I say. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I pretend her mouth curves up into a smile. I pretend she can hear me. I take the copy of
Sassy You
the nurse swore Mrs. Johnson wanted from where it lies unopened on the stack of magazines the nurses “read” to Mrs. Johnson by standing there and reading the magazines themselves, and shove it in the trash.

“Sorry you had to see that thing,” I tell her. “And, hey, I’m going to get Tess to wake up. She has to, you know. Otherwise …” I trail off.

Otherwise this is Tess’s future. A long, slow decline. A lifetime without life.

A lifetime of me tied here, because if Tess doesn’t get better, my parents will give up everything to keep her alive and end up with nothing. I will have to stay and help them, be the rock they can lean on. I will sink into Ferrisville, and I will decline too. I will have a lifetime without a life, and I don’t want that.

I know it’s selfish. I know a better person, a better daughter, wouldn’t think like that. Tess wouldn’t think like that.

But I’m not Tess. And the last thing I want is a life in which I do nothing but prove that over and over and over again.

eight

Eli is in the gift shop. I figure he’ll be talking to a
bunch of girls or admiring his reflection or whatever it is gorgeous people do when they are at work. Tess got a job at a grocery store in Milford the summer before she went to college, but really all she did was spend day after day talking to guys who’d trail around Organic Gourmet after her.

Eli isn’t talking to anyone, and he isn’t looking at himself either. He’s sorting through a bunch of magazines, tapping his fingers against each one and making faces at the headlines. He even scowls gorgeously.

I should probably be nervous about talking to him, but a lifetime of watching guys stumble over themselves to say “Hi” to Tess has made me realize how stupid that is. Acting like you’re not good enough to talk to someone usually means they decide you aren’t good enough to talk to them. Also, Eli isn’t for me, he’s for Tess. I’m just making sure they meet.

“I’m sure she’ll be better soon,” I tell him, pointing at the blond stick on the cover of the magazine he’s looking at. “They say the sixth time in rehab’s the charm.”

“What?” he says, and then looks at me. “Oh. You’re the girl who—”

“Has the beautiful sister,” I say, just because I know how his sentence will end. It’s how it always ends. “Can I get a copy of that?”

“You want a copy of this?”

I don’t. I’d sooner poke a stick in my eye than read inspirational tales about how some girl has made a fortune selling T-shirts, never mind that one of her parents is always a designer or hip New York store owner, or look at pictures of raccoon-eyed models posing in clothes no one I know can wear. Or afford.

But what I say is, “Yeah.”

He gets up and hands me one, all fluid motion and dark honey-colored skin. I am acutely aware of my shortness, lack of curves, and general blahness.

“Are you sure you want it?” he says. “I saw you make a face when I brought it up for Mrs. Johnson, and you don’t look like the kind of person who”—he glances at the cover—“cares about the new and best sunless tanners.”

Of course not. I look like me, and the way he so easily dismisses me stings a little, but I square my shoulders, dig some money out of my bag, and slap it on the counter.

While he’s making change, I look at the candy. Someone’s gone through and—I swear, I think it’s been organized by bar size and wrapper color. Bizarre.

“Here you go,” he says, handing me my change. “Enjoy your magazine.”

I roll my eyes before I remember I’m supposed to want the thing and he grins at me, perfect-shaped mouth showing perfect white teeth, and if I were weaker I’d memorize that smile because I am surely never going to see anything like it again.

“Your eyes—do you wear contacts?” he says.

I freeze, my whole body going numb.

“No,” I say. If he says I have pretty eyes, I will—I don’t know. I just know I won’t cry. Jack said my eyes were pretty once, and I was stupid enough to believe him.

But this guy doesn’t say that. He just says, “Do you want anything else?” so polite, so perfect, and I admit that for a second, one stupid second, I want to jump over the counter and lick his neck and touch his shoulders and his hair and pretend I could make a guy like him go weak in the knees.

“Yes,” I say, squashing that second, that stupid twinge of want, down. “I want you to wake up my sister.”

nine

Eli stares at me as if I’ve just said, “Hi, I’m crazy.”

“But your sister, she’s—”

“She’s in a coma,” I say. “But her eyes moved when you talked. She can hear you. So if you, you know, visit her, she’ll wake up. And when she does, you’ll love her. Everyone does.”

“So you want me to … what?”

“I just need—I want you to talk to her,” I say. “When her eyes moved, it was—” I take a deep breath. “It’s the most she’s done in ages.”

“Are you going to be there?”

“What?”

“If I talk to her, are you going to be there?”

Oh, I get it.

“No,” I say, and point at the case where bouquets of gently wilting plants are kept. “I’ll order her some flowers or something, and when you bring them up I’ll go to the lounge while you do whatever it is you do when you meet someone.”

“I can’t,” he says. “I’m only supposed to go into a patient’s room if there’s a nurse or family member present.”

“Okay, so I’ll be in there, then.” He’s confusing me. “I won’t—I won’t talk to you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know I’m not … like I said, I’m here for my sister.”

He leans into the counter, leans in closer to me. It takes everything I have to not step back. He’s so—he’s so gorgeous. He’s—

He’s for Tess. I’m doing this for her. I force myself to keep looking at him.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” he finally says. “You really think I can wake your sister up.”

I nod.

He laughs.

He actually laughs, eyes crinkling up, hair tumbling in perfect casual disarray over his forehead and down over his ears, and I force myself to smile back, to act like I am unmoved by him, like him laughing at me means nothing. I picture myself as the tiny animal I am, all anger and hard-earned knowledge, claws and fangs and an immovable heart.

I picture Tess awake, and my parents happy.

“I know Clement put you up to this,” he says when he’s done laughing. “Tell him I got the message and I swear, I’ll stop giving away gum.”

“Wait, hold up. You’re giving away gum?” I say, and hold out one hand like I’m waiting for a pack.

Something else I’ve learned is that it’s best to take the moments where you want the ground to swallow you whole—moments like now—and just get through them. Act like you don’t care that you’ve put yourself out there and gotten pushed away. Or, in this case, laughed at.

“I was,” he says. “But I’m not now. Tell Clement I know the gift shop is supposed to benefit whoever it’s supposed to benefit, and—”

“Ferrisville,” I say, the little animal that is me now claws-ready. “You’re working to raise money for people from Ferrisville who can’t afford to be treated here.”

“I forgot—”

“I bet you did. Let me guess, you got in trouble at Saint Andrew’s and got assigned here as some sort of punishment?”

“I forgot the name of the town, that’s all,” he says. “How did you know I go to Saint Andrew’s?”

I laugh, brittle and sharp. “We don’t have guys like you in Ferrisville.”

“You sound happy about that.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. You just laughed at me when I asked you to help my sister, remember?”

“I—you’re serious?”

“Yes,” I say, exasperation creeping into my voice. What’s with this guy?

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I—look, I really thought Clement sent you here, and I don’t—I don’t see how I can help your sister. Seriously. I didn’t see her doing anything when I was in her room, and I’m really not the kind of guy girls—”

“But she did do something,” I tell him. “And we both know you’re the kind of guy girls want. If you—if you say you’ll help me—help
her
—I’ll talk to Clement and get you out of here. He likes me and he can make stuff happen around here. I’ll tell him you’re helping me with a project for school.”

“Clement doesn’t like anyone.”

“Wrong. He just doesn’t like anyone from Milford,” I say. “Which is probably why he spends all his time here even though he’s a bazillionaire.”

Eli blinks. “Wait a minute. Are you—are you Abby?”

Wow, talk about a gamble that paid off. “Yeah.”

“You … Clement said you were—”

“He can’t see very well,” I tell Eli. “When you’re old, I think everyone who isn’t is cute or something.”

“He didn’t say you were cute.”

Okay, ouch. “Ugly, then. Whatever. The point is, I’ll talk to him, and you won’t have to work here anymore.”

“He didn’t say you were ugly either.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, but it does, and I just want to get out of here. “I’ll talk to Clement, and then you just have to talk to my sister.”

“Okay, but I don’t think she’ll wake up because of me.”

“You don’t know Tess. She loves gorgeous guys, and you’re the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen. You’ll wake her up, and when she does, you’ll thank me.”

“Is she like you?” he says. “I mean, is she—does she just say stuff like you do?”

“No, she’s not—Tess’s perfect. She’s beautiful and smart and everyone loves her. You will too. You won’t be able to help yourself. I’ll talk to Clement now, and we’ll start tomorrow, okay? I would say we should start now, but Clement loves to talk and I have to catch the ferry home before my parents—” I break off. No need to go into that with him. “Anyway, tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Abby.” I nod at him, and walk out of the gift shop.

If he says Tess’s name like he just said mine, Tess will be awake about ten seconds after he starts talking.

Even Jack saying my name never made me feel so—

Stop it.

I promised myself all that was gone, forgotten, and it’s going to stay that way. I made myself strong, I taught myself to know who—and what—I am.

I go find Clement. He’s drinking coffee in the cafeteria and looking out at the river, and he grins the second I mention Eli’s name.

“Told that boy to look out for you,” he says. “I said, ‘Eli, there’s a firecracker.’”

Well, Eli was right. Clement didn’t call me ugly. He just called me an object people blow up on holidays. I’d been wondering a bit about how they knew each other, but now I so don’t care. And besides, Clement knows everyone.

“The thing is, I need him to help me with something,” I say. “And we both know you know everyone and everything and can do stuff. So can Eli help me?”

“What do you want him to do?” Clement says. “I know how you young girls are about love, Abby, but if you want to go out with him, you should—”

“Oh no,” I say. “I don’t—this isn’t about me. It’s for Tess. She moved her eyes, remember? And she did it when Eli was talking. So I know that if he talks to her, he can wake her up.”

Clement takes a sip of coffee. “Just like that?”

“I know it’ll work. I know my sister. She likes cute guys and Eli—well, he’s—you’ve seen him. If his voice can get her to move, just imagine what she’ll do once she opens her eyes.”

“He is a good-looking boy,” Clement says. “Takes after his grandmother’s side of the family, but he looks like his mother too. She’s a tiny little thing. Came over here from Japan and—”

I cut him off. “So can he do it?”

“You know what your problem is?” Clement says. “You’re impatient.”

“You said I was worried before.”

“So you’re both,” Clement says, and takes another sip of coffee.

“Well?” I say, when he doesn’t say anything.

“See?” he says.

“Fine, you’re right,” I say, grinning at him. “So can Eli do it or what?”

“He can help you,” Clement says. “And you can help him.”

“Well, I think Tess will take care of that,” I say. “When she wakes up, I mean.”

Clement starts to say something, and then pats my hand. “You shouldn’t be—you should like yourself more, Abby.”

I swallow. “I like myself as much as I should,” I finally say. “And thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I was going to have to move Eli out of the gift shop anyway. He keeps giving away gum. And it takes him forever to count out the magazines.”

“Sort out.”

“I know what I said,” he tells me. “I meant count. So I said count.”

“All right,” I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender, and when he pulls out another of his cough drops, I wave at him and head off.

“You’re welcome,” he calls out after me, and I walk out of the hospital feeling lighter than I have in months.

This will work. I know it will. I’m going to give Tess what she wants. I’m going to watch her wake up. I’m going to see my family knit itself back together, return to the way things used to be.

I’m going to watch Tess wake up, and then I’ll finally be able to get away from her. From seeing her so trapped and helpless now.

From living in her shadow.