Days Like This (4 page)

JUNE PLOPPED DOWN next to me and
sighed dramatically. I didn’t give her attention because that would mean the
end of studying. The first time we met she’d made the exact same entrance, told
me to smile, said I looked boy-sick, and then called me badass for being named
after a rock legend when I told her my name.

“I’m June.
Country legend. So we’re obviously meant to be friends,” she’d said, reaching
her hand out for mine.

“Do you have
a
Johnny?”
I’d asked.

June crossed
her arms. “I am the Johnny. Legends don’t need a counterpart.”

We’d been
friends ever since.

June threw an
eraser at me and sighed again.
I
looked up at her over my sunglasses.

“Wait, you’re
studying, too?” she asked.

I pointed down
at my textbook. “This isn’t for fun, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What is that,
anyway?” June leaned across the metal table, tilted her head sideways. “‘The
French Revolution ended the age of absolute monarchy in France, but was...’ Why
am I already bored?”

“I don’t know.
It’s going to start talking about the Reign of Terror and you’re an expert on
those,” I said.

June stuck out
her tongue and leaned back in her chair. “Let’s get out of here.”

I shook my
head. “I have a test tomorrow.”

June frowned
and crossed her arms. She was like a kid
,
except she was rough around the edges, dropped f-bombs like breadcrumbs, and had
more hair colors than days of the week.

“Screw tests!
Finals are in a month. They shouldn’t do that to us. We need to have
lives,
” she said. Then she rose to her feet and yelled, “We get to
have lives!”

A few people
around us clapped. She smiled and slightly bowed. June was like that. She was bright
and loud, so everyone paid attention to her. She was like Mom on a pretty day,
but nothing like her at the same time. This was all June and not a sickness.

“You going to
eat those?” she asked, pointing to the cheese fries on my left.

“They’ve been
sitting here for an hour,” I said. “They’re cold.”

She shrugged
and I shoved them toward her. Only June would eat nasty cold cheese fries.

“When are you
going to be done?” she asked.

“Where’s Jason?”

June tapped my
pencil on the tabletop. “Class. Loser.”

I smirked.
“Class is sort of why we’re all here. Why aren’t you in class?”

“It’s speech.
I’ll wear a low-cut top and get an A. Everyone knows that.” It was true. But
even if it wasn’t, she would still get an A. Put June in the front of a room
and I dare someone not to watch her or listen to her talk about string cheese.
It wasn’t possible. She was smart, too. I’d always thought she was one of those
secret geniuses, because it was the only way to explain how a girl who never
studied and barely went to class got As. That and the low-cut tops.

She shoved a
fry into her mouth and scowled. “These are cold.”

I shook my
head and refocused on my book, even though I knew I was done. There was no
focusing when June was around and needed attention.

 “I’ll go get
them warmed. Who’s working?” Then, she was gone. I turned my head toward the student
center and watched June lean over the counter. José was working today, so she’d
probably be back with a whole new container of fries.

“Never Going
Back Again”
started
playing from my phone as it vibrated across the table. I picked it up; my heart
pounded a little too much, and I pushed the button.

“Mom?”

There was a
soft noise, the sound of someone breathing on the other end. I pressed my
fingers between the crisscross patterns on the table. Mom rarely called me, and
if she was calling now it meant something was wrong.

“No, Cass.”

It was a
whisper on the line, but I felt it as if it was a scream injected straight into
my brain. I stood up from my seat, looking out over the soccer field. My heart
raced along with the ball. I forced my eyes closed, and I saw him there. Like
he was standing right in front of me with those deep grey eyes that saw through
me, and that wavy light brown hair I used to run my hands through. He was so
real, even in a whisper, that I could almost touch him through the phone.

“Graham?” My
voice cracked as I said his name. My hands were sweating, heart racing, and I
was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold onto my phone. I hadn’t spoken to Graham in
almost a year. Not since he came here for me after I left North Carolina and
broke his heart. Since I gave him back his ring. And now he was calling me.

“I don’t mean
to call like this, but—”

“Wait, you’re
on my mom’s phone.”

The only
reason he would be on Mom’s phone would be to get my new number. He shouldn’t
need that. My heart raced because I knew. I felt it as my world tilted from
balanced to out of control. Graham sighed on the line, and I could almost see
it, too. He had this way of responding that showed in his whole body. Every
emotion—the sighing, the laughing, the anger—encompassed all of him.

“You need to
come home, Cass.”

Come home. See
him. Really see him. The thought made my stomach jump.

“Woo! Cassie,
I got fries and ice cream!” June yelled as she busted through the door. I
turned my back to her. Thousands of scenarios blew through my mind. Mom was
hurt or worse. All because I wasn’t there. Did I call her this week? I couldn’t
remember.

“What—why?”

But I knew the
answer. Graham Tucker and I made a pact a long time ago, long before we were
ever anything more than friends. If something happened, he would be the one who
called me, not some doctor. He would be there. But I needed him to say it,
because I didn’t want whatever it was to be true.

“She’s in the
hospital, Cass. You’re the only one who can make decisions. You have to come.
She needs you.”

I swallowed.
“What happened?”

Graham grew
quiet and around him I could hear the familiar sounds of the psychiatric wing
at St. John’s. The hum of the radiator from the fifties that still hadn’t been
replaced because the residents were crazy, why did they care? And I could hear
the nurses moving around because they talked louder there instead of in hushed
voices like most places. Especially Sheila. And he was probably standing in the
blue waiting room, the one that had a puzzle of a yellow cat with the missing
piece in the tail. It was hundreds of miles away yet it was still in my head,
still with me no matter how far away I was.

“She almost
burned the house down,” he said. I sucked in some air; let it fill my lungs
because it was the only way I wasn’t going to lose it. Graham paused, and I
wondered what he was thinking. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I couldn’t
think. He started talking faster. “Mrs. Pearson went by to check on her and saw
the flames from the window. She was sitting on the couch while the fire burned
in the living room, and she lost it when they saved her.”

I closed my
eyes, inhaled, exhaled. I tried not to think about the fact that I was talking
to him after eleven months. That my mom was in trouble. I don’t think I called
this week; I should’ve. My chest was caving in. My head was spinning. What was
I going to do? I couldn’t drop everything. Finals and projects and—

“She needs you,”
Graham said. His voice was low, and I could tell that he didn’t want to have
this conversation with me. But he would because he had to, and because even
though there were states stretched between us, he was right next to me. He was part
of me.

“You promised,”
he added, his voice husky.

Those little
words and then nothing else mattered. If anyone had said them to me, anyone, I
could’ve not given in. I could’ve stalled and figured out another solution. But
not him. It almost wasn’t fair that he could still have this effect on me.

“I’ll need a
couple days.” It felt like I was holding my breath underwater. Like I was
waiting for someone to rescue me, or to tell me to come out now because the storm
had passed. But no one would say it. No one could stop it or change it, not
when I was this far under. “I’ll be there,” I said.

“Okay, Cass,”
he said. He said my old nickname, and I froze. I could remember the last time
he called me that, when he proposed and we spent the weekend locked away in
some cabin in the mountains before I went home and everything changed. He would
whisper my name as he kissed my lips, my cheeks, my neck, my breasts, and tell
me that he was the luckiest person in the world. I’d say I was luckier, and it
was true. That was always true.

Graham
lingered on the line, and I thought—hoped—that he’d say something else, but he
didn’t. I didn’t blame him. Not even goodbye. We just sat there, neither of us
speaking, breathing into the receiver, and listening, waiting.

Behind me June
called my name, but I didn’t answer. Graham’s breathing disappeared. I kept the
phone pressed against my ear even though he’d hung up, and told myself it would
be okay. My head didn’t believe me. My heart didn’t either. They both knew.
They knew that this moment, this feeling, was what happened right before we
drowned—and that the only person who I wanted to save me could barely talk to
me.

I’M LEAVING ON SATURDAY.
Just say it, Cassie.

 “Water?” Rohan
asked, handing me a bottle over my shoulder. I took the water from his hand, and
he leaned in to kiss me before he let go. This conversation wasn’t one I wanted
to have, but he had to know. I had to tell him. I couldn’t be in another
situation like I had with Graham, or carry the guilt from sending him away. I had
enough of that to carry me through forever.

Rohan pressed
his lips against my neck—once, twice, three times. I could only think of
Graham. I hadn’t been able to get his voice out of my head since his phone
call, so I pulled away from Rohan and curled my legs into his couch. He slumped
down by me, hand resting on my knee.

“Are you still
mad about the RV? That was days ago. I told you it’s fine now.”

“I’m not mad,”
I said. I was never mad; I was uncomfortable. It was a big commitment and he
didn’t even know me. That’s all I could think: he didn’t know me.

“The guys are
pitching in and we’re fixing it up for the band.”

“For a tour?”

Rohan smiled.
“Yeah, Stan set it up. We’re recording the demo in two days and Stan has a
meeting with The Pitheads manager next week.”

He was
glowing, bouncing all over the couch. I had to smile at his smile. “You
remember them, right? That ‘Girl with a Tattoo’ song. We saw them with Levi?”

“Right.” I
remembered an underground concert with sticky floors and drunk girls and
something considered music that was a blend of bad techno and screaming noise.
It was horrible.

“If the
meeting goes well?” I asked.

“Vinyl Drive
would open. Fifteen cities, three weeks. Stan thinks he can get the new stuff
in front of labels in a few weeks because of the online fan base. He already
has a meeting set up.” They’d had a buddy shoot a video for YouTube. It went
viral in less than twenty-four hours. That was how Stan found them two months ago,
and that was how all this was moving so quickly. A label was huge. “Then who
knows? Your boyfriend could make it.”

In the six
months I’d known him, I’d never heard Rohan talk like this. He was usually
wrapped up in what was expected of him from his family, his professors, and
himself. He’d had a five-year plan, and then the band happened, and now he was
talking like this.

“Does he want
to?” I asked.

He ran his
fingers across the tips of my hair, and his knuckles grazed my neck. “He thinks
so.”

“And his
parents?” I’d never met his parents, but he talked about them enough. He and
his brothers were second generations in this country from Bangladesh. His
grandparents started with nothing, and worked hard to build a life for their
families. Rohan and his siblings were expected to make it count, to do
something that mattered, and music would definitely not fit into that category.
Rohan had said that much to me enough times to commit it to memory.

Rohan laughed
awkwardly. “They will probably disown him. But maybe not? I don’t really know
yet. One step at a time.”

I smiled,
feeling a little relieved. If this happened for him then it would be okay. He
would have something else to make him happy, something real and not me. All I
had to do was tell him. All I had to do was say two words.

“Close your
eyes.”

I raised an
eyebrow. “Last time I did that there was an RV.”

“I couldn’t
fit an RV in here,” he said.

“I’m sure you
understand my apprehension.” Surprises and eyes being closed didn’t really work
out for me. Not last time, not eleven months ago. Even June knew I hated
surprises. This was more evidence that Rohan didn’t really know me.

Rohan put a
finger on my lips. “Trust me. Eyes closed.”

With my eyes
closed, everything yelled at me to tell him that I was leaving. I couldn’t tune
out the voices, or the longing. It couldn’t be that hard to say the words to a
boy I didn’t love, not like I still loved Graham. I fluttered my eyes open, but
Rohan pressed his mouth against mine and his hands ran down my back. I wanted
to tell him, but I didn’t. Instead I tried to forget. I kissed him back, and
eased his shirt over his head as he took off mine. He ran his fingers across my
breasts before taking off my bra, and then all my thoughts were gone.

Three seconds.
Then I lost control of my own brain and my body operated on autopilot.

Five seconds.
The amount of time before my back was flush with his leather couch and it gently
tugged at my skin, but I didn’t let it stop us.

Seven seconds.
Then I didn’t feel guilty; I didn’t feel anything except him on top of me. I
turned to dust and nerves and no words survived.

“Cass…” he
whispered, his lips trailing down my stomach.

My body tensed
up at the name, but Rohan didn’t notice. The weight of Graham’s name for me, of
his voice saying it when we made love, of him on the phone before, the memory
of it all came crashing back over me. It made me kiss Rohan harder.

IT WAS 2 A.M. when I woke up.
“Cass” echoed off Rohan’s walls, a refrain from my dreams. The name didn’t
belong in his room. Over and over it played, but it wasn’t Rohan’s voice. It
was Graham’s.

Rohan was
asleep next to me, his long lanky body spread across the bed and through the
sheets. I looked at him and expected, hoped, to feel something. Something that
made me want to stay. Something more powerful than my fear of going home again
to face Graham, and my mom, and my past. But there was nothing. I wanted to
talk to Graham, to tell him I left because of what I found in Mom’s room, that
my dad was alive and he abandoned us, and how much it scared me to ruin his
life the way Mom’s disorder ruined mine. It was a lot of words, and part of
going home meant getting to tell him, and maybe, starting over.

 So I grabbed
a paper off the floor and scribbled:
I’m
sorry to leave like this. I wanted to tell you I was leaving, but I didn’t know
how. I don’t think you’ll miss me and you deserve someone better. Someone who
has a heart to give completely and only to you.

 
I read and re-read it. He deserved more,
but it was good enough—my goodbye on the back of a chemistry test. It was
something. I put it on my pillow, grabbed my clothes, and ran away from the
name. If I could have, I would’ve left all the voices there in that room. I
tried before to move on, but they were a haunting refrain that seemed to follow
me. Hopefully, this one would stay where it belonged.

I CRAMMED THE last box into
my car and forced the back door to shut. That was everything. It was 4 a.m. and
I was leaving like a thief in the night, but it was better this way. No
goodbyes, no awkward emotions, no questions or half-truth explanations. They
would all wake up and I would be gone. Eventually, the semester would end and
they would forget about me. I was doing them all a favor. I’d spent my whole
life trying to keep my mom’s mess a secret, and I didn’t want to drag anyone
else into the pit with me. I didn’t want to make them carry around my burdens.

I used to
think Indiana would make everything better, that I could move on and start a
new life, but everything reminded me of what I left behind. I wondered about
Graham, and deep down I had this twinge of a dream for us where we were at
least friends. Maybe that was impossible now, maybe me leaving made it
impossible, but maybe it wasn’t. I knew he was angry, but I could explain. If
there was an excuse good enough to forgive a fiancée leaving in the middle of
the night.

I lowered
myself into the driver’s seat and turned on the headlights. The engine purred
along with the end of a Pink Floyd song, and June’s silhouette appeared in
front of my car. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her hair was a mess.
She looked tired. And pissed.

I could have driven
away, but leaving her like that would make leaving worse. It would be the end,
and I wasn’t ready to let go of that yet. She was still my friend, no matter
what I was hiding, so I opened the door.

“Do you
realize how fucking pissed I was to call your room and have your roommate
answer and tell me all your shit was gone? That you were leaving?”

“June.”

She put up a
hand and I recoiled. I knew better than to mess with her when she was like
this. “Do you know that I—your fucking best friend—looked like an idiot in
front of dumb roommate Suzie Sunshine—whom you told you were leaving before me,
and I know that was a mistake because we hate her. And I had to ramble about
how I ‘forgot that was today’? For someone who hates surprises, you sure aren’t
opposed to leaving other people shocked!”

I pressed my fingers
into my palm. She had a right to be upset, but I couldn’t explain this to her.
Suzie asked why I was packing boxes, and she lived with me so I had to tell
her. I didn’t think June would be this upset. “June, it’s complicated.”

She exhaled.
“Is this because of that call the other day? You’ve been weird as hell since
then.”

I shifted, but
didn’t answer. Before Graham called, I was surviving. But the last few days
have been me doing some kind of recon on something that I didn’t know how to
protect or save. I didn’t even really want it.

“Did you tell Rohan?”

My eyes shot
up to see June lighting a cigarette. She shook her head at me like she didn’t
know me and took a long drag. “You’re sneaking away? Just like that?”

“I thought it
would be easier,” I said.

“For us or for
you?”

I didn’t
answer because she was right. She knew that though, or she wouldn’t have said
it.

“Where are you
going?” Her voice was low, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Home,” I
said. “The dean approved my leave.”

“I thought you
loved it here? You said that over and over.”

“It’s my mom,”
I said. It wasn’t a lie, not like the loving it part. The only part I loved was
June, but that wasn’t the same.

June exhaled
smoke. “Look. We all have family shit that we don’t want to air out. Trust me.
I get it. But you’re my best friend, and you can’t disappear on me.”

“It’s what I
do,” I said with a half smile, but she didn’t laugh. It wasn’t a joke; it’s
what I did to my mom, to Graham, to the whole state of North Carolina. I
flipped them off and drove away in the middle of the night.       

“Not this
time,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but when I call you
better answer the phone or I will come down to North Carolina and pound your
ass, Harlen.”

“Got it,” I
said, but it would be hard. Balancing old and new wasn’t something I did well.
June hugged me. Neither of us were the hugging type. My arms were hard at my
side, surprised at her motion. I guess I could try to balance it all for her.
“I should go.”

June nodded as
I got in the car. “What about Rohan?” She called over the engine.

“He’ll be
fine. I left a note.”

“Classy,” she snapped,
taking another drag of her cigarette. June didn’t act like she believed me. She
didn’t move from her spot as I backed out. Part of me wished she would so I
could ignore the feeling in my gut that always came with leaving. June saluted
the air toward me. “Be safe.”