Foreign Exchange (27 page)

“What’s going on?” I ask, as soon as Sawyer and I are alone together.

Sawyer moves his hand from my forearm down to my hand. He places his on top, but I flip mine and weave my fingers through his. I need something strong to hold onto.

“
I guess I’ll be in a heap of trouble when I get home…” He blows out a breath.

“Yeah, I suppose I will be, too.”
I want to know more about Tristan, but part of me is relieved at this comparatively lighter subject.

A small smile lights his face. “I think everyone’s just glad you’re okay at the moment.” He squeezes my hand. “I know I am.” He looks at me again, and I just want him to wrap his arms around me and make me forget everything that’s happened.

“Is that why my mom’s being so nice to you? Because she knows your parents will probably keep you locked up for the rest of your life?” I attempt a small laugh, but my whole body hurts.

His lip twitches.
“Something like that.”

“And Mr. Echols? Was he mad? He must have been mad.”

“Surprisingly, no. I called him from Rome, and told him everything. Once he knew we were both okay, he understood that we felt we had to go looking for Tristan, though he doesn’t think the school will be so understanding. But he told me I needed to go to the police. I did. In Rome, and then again in Venice when you didn’t show up at five or return my texts.”

“I thought I heard you
yell to me,” I say.

He nods. “The police checked out
One Time Models
, but the studio looked okay.” They weren’t going to do anything more until you were missing for twenty-four hours, so I was out pacing, trying to think of anything I could do to find you. I knew you were in trouble when I saw you in the boat, and I didn’t want to get you into more trouble, so I called out James, just to make sure it was really you. You looked around, almost right at me, but then you disappeared inside another building.”

I swallow. “It was awful. The girls in there, they were tied up
, and––” I swallow again, unable to say more. It could have been me. It
was
my best friend. “Did you see when they brought us out on the boat again?” I ask, to change the subject.

He nods. “But I was trying to keep out of sight. The police had been ready to bust into the building across the canal, but then I had to race back and tell them you were on another boat.” He takes a slow breath, like he’s reliving the panic along with me. “You were in the water for close to twenty minutes. They don’t know for sure how you survived that long. They finally spotted you when Tristan started screaming for help.”

“Tristan was screaming for help?” This brightens me a bit: The thought of her, still having some fight left in her. “So when can I see her?”

Sawyer’s quiet for a long moment.
This is obviously what he doesn’t want to talk about. “Jamie, you need to give her some time.”

I look out the window. It’s gray and clouded over. “She’s not okay, is she?”

Even though I’m not looking at Sawyer, I can feel him shaking his head. “It’s going to take some time, Jamie. She’ll let you know when she’s ready.”

After Sawyer leaves,
I spend a long time alone, trying to process. Every time my mind wanders to Tristan, I have to stop and re-route my thoughts. I can’t even start to let myself imagine what she’s been through. What we both might have gone through if Sawyer hadn’t found us. But the flashes of thoughts come anyway. Every time I shut my eyes, I see Stanko slapping me, and groping Tristan, and the images mix up in my mind until I’m having visions of Stanko groping and touching
me
, even though it never got that far.

There are so many what if’s and could-have-beens, I can barely wrap my head around all of them. But the truth is settling in. We’re all going to be okay, and I’m so incredibly thankful.

Chapter Twenty-S
ix

The doctor says now that I’m awake and stable it shouldn’t be too long until I can travel. I normally wouldn’t be excited to spend huge chunks of time alone with my mother, but she’s different since my near-drowning. She’s turned into my mom again—the one I seemed to have lost somewhere when Eddy came into our lives.

I know
she’s been waiting to say some things to me. I’ve felt it off of her ever since I woke up. Whatever my punishment is, I’m ready for it. I deserve it.

“Pull up a chair,” I tell her, since she seems to need the invitation now that we’re alone.

“Sawyer told me…” Mom says, followed by a loud swallow. I swallow too. “He told me Tristan wanted to stay in Europe.” After a pause she adds, “That you may have wanted to stay in Europe, too.”

I look away. But then I look back at her. I guess the only thing I can be now is honest.

“It’s not that I wanted to stay here. And it’s not like I don’t love Eddy,” I say, deciding to make that clear up front. “It’s just…it’s all the time now, and you’re so unhappy, and it’s been too much for me, Mom.” I meet her eyes and she flits hers away from mine. To be honest, I’d be happy to be home with my brother about now. Having a boring or even frustrating life doesn’t sound so bad.

“It was too much for me, too.”  The words sound like they’re difficult for Mom to get out, and I get it. I do. I remember the days when Dad was traveling and she spent every waking hour taking care of Eddy when he was a toddler—which I admit, was a lot more work than it is now that he’s older. One time I found her screaming into her pillow in her bedroom while Eddy was in his playpen practically tearing the spindles off of it. It’s not a normal, easy life. It’s never been a normal, easy life, and I know she probably misses the person she used to be—before Eddy—as much as I do. She probably thinks that at least life is bearable now, even if it isn’t good.

And it is bearable. I know I should stop complaining, and I feel like she does understand. I put my hand on hers on the bed, and she finally looks back at me.

“I think it was really brave of you to go after Tristan, honey, but also foolish. I wish you had at least asked an adult for help.”

“You mean how you always ask for help.” It's a low blow, but it just falls out of my mouth. “I guess most of the time I feel like an adult at home.” Even though it's the truth, it feels like a truth from a long time ago. From before I'd realized I still want someone to take care of me.

Mom quietly nods. I'm expecting her to argue
with me, but instead she comes out with this: “I’ve asked your father for some money. I think we should bring Mrs. Molina back permanently. What do you think?” A glimpse of a memory comes to me of when my dad had first left. If he didn’t want to be a part of Eddy’s life, Mom had been determined to make it on her own without his help.

“You talked to Dad?”

“He called, just after I heard from the police in Venice. I guess he had gotten a note from you, and when he couldn’t get a hold of you, he tried to call me, to make sure everything was okay. He helped me arrange a quick flight over. He wants to see you.” She glances to the hospital hallway.

“Wait, he’s here?” I push myself to a seated position. It feels slightly better than the last time I tried it.

Mom smiles, a guarded smile, but it does reach her eyes. “You're right,” she says, still nodding. “Sometimes all of us need to ask for help.” She walks to the door and holds it open. And there he is.

I haven’t seen my dad in person in
over a decade. He looks older, with graying hair around the edges of his face. But when he smiles, I can’t help smiling back. He has Eddy’s smile.

“Jamie, I am so thrilled you came to see me
, though I certainly wish it had been under different circumstances.” His formal speech brings me back to the last time we’d spoken on the phone, so many years ago. Even though he’s not exactly a warm and fuzzy dad, he has this way of making me feel like no time has passed at all.

Just for fun, I switch to Italian, to show him I’m still practicing. I tell him thank you for the help with Mrs.
Molina.
Grazie
for helping Mom book the flight, and for coming to the hospital, too.

“I’d like to
come to the states to see you,” he says, switching seamlessly to Italian as well. “To see you and Eddy.”

“Really?” I glance toward the hospital hallway. Mom left us to have some time alone,
but would she be okay with that?

As if he can read my thoughts, he says, “Don’t worry. I’ve cleared it with your mo
ther.”

I don’t have any hopes of them getting back together, but I admit, I love the idea of having two parents again. Even if one is more
like a faraway uncle. And I can’t help loving anyone who wants to love Eddy. I might have once considered this too little, too late, but if there’s one thing I’ve recently realized, it’s that it’s not too late. For anything.

When I’m feeling mobile again, I roam the hallways to get my muscles moving. I haven’t asked where Tristan’s room is, even though Sawyer has been by plenty of times to see me, but now I can tell that it’s just down the hall from mine. Because that’s where Mr. and Mrs. Bishop are camped out on a couple of chairs.

“They’ve been there practically since they got
to Italy,” Sawyer tells me, acting as my walker to keep me steady on my feet. “I’ve had to force them to go and get meals, and I booked them a nearby hotel room for tonight. I’ll take over so they can get some rest.”

Sure, they look haggard, but glancing at Sawyer’s red
-rimmed eyes, I have to ask, “But don’t you need some sleep, too?”

He wraps an arm around me, giving me a little squeeze, careful not to hurt me. “I’m young. I can sleep anywhere.
” He slides his hand down to take mine, now that I’m getting steadier on my feet. “The hospital counselor has told us to give her some time, but we just want to make sure someone is here in case she suddenly wants to talk.”

When we near Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, they notice us and stand.

Mrs. Bishop places both her hands on my shoulders.

“
I’m okay,” I tell her. “Really.” She holds me at a distance and looks me over, then finally pulls me into a hug. I’ve never hugged Mrs. Bishop, not once in all the years I’ve known her, but part of me feels like she’s not actually hugging me. She’s trying to hug her daughter.

“
How are you doing?” I ask. I’m not prepared for Mrs. Bishop’s tears. They’re suddenly streaking her face in a torrential downpour.

“She’s going to be okay
,” Mr. Bishop says. I wish I hadn’t asked. Mrs. Bishop looks so suddenly shaky, so pained, that I have to look away.

“Tell
Tristan I’m here, you know, whenever she needs me.” I take a step away, needing to give them space for their pain.

Mom and Sawyer and Mrs. Bishop all say to give her time, and I will, but when I’m wide awake in the middle of the night, I decide I just want her to know that I’m here. They’ve all had a chance to see her, at least once, so she knows all of them are there for her.

I could just sneak in and leave a note or something while she’s sleeping.

Sawyer’s right. He can sleep anywhere. He’s in one of the chairs outside Tristan’s room, with his head cocked back on an angle against the wall. His mouth is wide open and he’s so cute I wish I had my cell phone to take a picture. His long legs jut out into the hallway and I have to tiptoe over them to get to Tristan’s doorway. I’m surprised the nurses aren’t complaining. Then again, with Sawyer’s charm, I guess I’m not so surprised.

I gently push through the door and my breath catches in my throat. She’s awake. She’s not looking at me, but her eyes are wide open, staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes at night I’m afraid to sleep, because I don’t want the memories to come back in my dreams. I
bet it’s even worse for her.

I don’t say a word until I’m by her side. She doesn’t look at me.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.”

I’m so surprised by her voice I’m stunned into silence for a moment.

But it’s good to hear her voice. And the bruises on her face have faded. I try not to stare. I blink to keep my tears in.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Tristan. I’m glad we’re both okay.”

“I’m sorry I lied.” Her tone is flat, but I have the sense that her spoken words right now are precious. She means each one of them with everything in her.

“I know.” My conflicted emotions are making it hard to say more than a few words at a time. I’m thankful that Tristan is here, willing to talk. I can’t let out my anger when I’m the only one she’ll talk to, and she’s been so hurt already. I’m incredibly thankful that she was willing to drown in order to save me. But I have to be honest with her. I’m still angry with her for her lies, for her selfishness, for getting herself hurt. But then I’m angry at myself for being angry. She doesn’t need that right now.

She shakes her head and finally glances over at me, just for a hint of a second. “I can’t believe you almost died because of me.” Tristan has never been one to hold back her emotions, especially when she’s angry or sad, and the strangeness of her
flat tone is making me realize how much this has changed her. I have to gulp down my own emotion before I can speak.

“I
didn’t
die, because of you,” I say.

“Sawyer’s the best guy I know,” she says. “I’m glad…I mean…you deserve…” She shakes her head again. When she looks at me, her eyes are dry, much drier than mine, which have felt wet since I walked through her door. I know this shouldn’t be the thing I’m focusing on, but the weirdest part is how calmly she’s talking about Sawyer and me. Together.

I don’t even know how she knows. Maybe she’s overheard Sawyer and his parents talking outside the door. Maybe Sawyer told her.

“We’re going to try things and see where they go,” I tell her. It’s not a question. I’m done needing anyone’s permission to be with Sawyer. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be an either/or thing. With us, I mean.”

She nods. I don’t know what any of this means for our friendship. I do know things won’t be the same between us.

I’m tempted to ask her about her
arrangement with Don Bristolle. Ask her how she could have kept so much from me. But it’s obvious why she did it—to get him to help her with the exchange program front. I figure it’s not likely she’ll do something like that a second time. In fact, I wonder if my risk-taking best friend will ever take a chance again. I admit I feel safer just thinking she’ll be more careful in the future.

“I should get some sleep,” she says, and part of me regrets what I’ve said about Sawyer. But part of me doesn’t. I’m going to keep being honest and keep trying to be her friend for as long as she’ll let me. And it makes sense that this is enough for her for today. From what I’ve heard from Sawyer, it’s more than she’s said to anyone else.

“I’m just down the hall whenever you need me,” I say.

“I’m not ready for more yet.” She motions to the door, as though she’s talking about Sawyer and her parents. “But thank you, Jamie.
For coming after me. For listening. For being here. You’re just…you’re perfect.” For this one second, her tone is so normal, so before-everything-happened, and suddenly I’m not worried about figuring out the details of where our friendship is going.

I laugh a little, and the release feels amazing. She knows how I feel about Sawyer. She knows
me.
The fact that Tristan’s lying here safe, giving me glimpses into a future where one day she’ll be okay, is all I need right now.

“What kind of a world do we live in if people like you and Sawyer think someone like
me
is perfect?” I ask, jokingly, hoping to hear the lightness in her voice one more time.

She looks at me, then turning her face back to the ceiling
, lets her eyes fall closed. Just before I turn to leave, she says, “A good one.”