Love Letters to the Dead (30 page)

At school this morning, everyone knew about Natalie and Hannah kissing at the party. I saw Hannah walking down the hall, and one of the soccer boys called out, “Yo, wanna have a threesome?” His friend said, “Four boobies are better than two.” I told them to shut up, and I tried to go over to Hannah, but she turned and rushed the other way.

In English, Natalie kept the hood of her hoodie on all through class, and when the bell rang, she hurried out before I could talk to her.

At lunch, our table was empty. I stood there for a minute, wondering where to go. Finally I went and sat by the fence, like I used to. I remembered watching the leaves fall from the trees at the beginning of the year and stared at the green buds starting to grow back now.

Then Sky walked up and handed me a pack of Nutter Butters. “Here,” he said. “I thought you might want this.”

“Thank you,” I said, and smiled at him. I took it, and he sat down next to me. I gave him half, and we just sat like that, crunching and not saying anything else.

After school, I called Aunt Amy and told her I had a study group and that I would get a ride home after. I stayed in the library alone for as long as I could, thinking about Natalie and Hannah, and thinking about May, and thinking about you on your island. I thought about how I tried so hard to be brave this year. But maybe I’ve been getting it wrong the whole time. Because there’s a difference between the kind of risk that could make you burn away and the kind you took. The kind that makes you show up in the world.

Finally, when it started to get dark out, I walked back to Aunt Amy’s. I took a deep breath and turned the knob to the front door. She was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. She had a kaiser roll sandwich cut in half on a TV tray.

“Are you hungry?”

I wanted to say that I wasn’t and disappear into my room, but the sandwich waiting like that made me sad and made me love her all at the same time. So I dropped my backpack by the door and sat down.

“Thanks,” I said.

I waited for her to make us pray, but instead she said, “Laurel, you were so upset last night. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m doing better today,” I said carefully. It wasn’t a lie.

“I know that you miss May,” she said, “and I know that you looked up to her. But I can see you becoming your own person, Laurel. And I am proud of you. The Lord Jesus is, too.” She squeezed my hand and looked at me. Then she said, “And so is May, from where she is in heaven.”

Although I still didn’t know what exactly Aunt Amy was proud of, and I didn’t really think that Jesus would be, it was a really nice thing for her to say about May.

I wonder what it was like, Amelia, in the final moments of your life. Did you stare up at the clouds that you had soared over? Did you wonder if you were going back there, to live in your beloved skies forever?

Yours,
Laurel

Dear Jim Morrison,

There is something that you said once:
A friend is someone who gives you total freedom to be yourself—and especially to feel, or not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at any moment is fine with them. That’s what real love amounts to—letting a person be what he really is.
Thank you for saying it, because I’ve been thinking about that. I think that I’ve been trying for a long time to feel like I am supposed to, instead of what I actually am.

Since what happened at the party, I’d been missing Natalie and Hannah painfully. The week passed, and they’d been avoiding me, and each other, and pretty much everyone.

Then when I got to school today, Monday, I saw Hannah in the parking lot, getting out of a car. The passenger door was silver, but the rest of the car was painted black. She stumbled, her pointed heel stuck in a crack, as she turned to wave bye to the driver. It was a half-fingered wave that looked like it was meant to be flirty, but she could barely muster it. And when I followed her gaze, I saw him—it was Blake with the mountain house. He peeled out of the lot, dodging the minivans and mom cars and darting into traffic.

When Hannah saw me walking toward her, she looked at me like she wanted to disappear. Her red curls were coming uncurled, and her makeup was heavier than normal. She had one of her eye shadow bruises painted on her cheek.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

“Was that Blake?”

“Yeah.”

“Why was he dropping you off at school?”

“I stayed at his place last night.”

“Hannah, you promised you wouldn’t see him.”

“I know,” she said. “But I had to get out of my house. And it’s over with Kasey, of course.”

“You could have called me.”

“I’ve never even been to your house before, Laurel.”

“Well, it could have been the first time…”

Hannah looked down. I could tell she was still angry.

Then she just laughed, suddenly, although nothing was funny. She laughed like she was making the only sound that could cover everything up. “I really can’t be here today,” she said. “Do you want to go somewhere?” The first bell hadn’t even rung.

“Okay.”

So we snuck off campus and walked to Garcia’s and ordered taquitos for breakfast, sitting on the stoop of a drive-in spot. We used my cell phone and each called the office, pretended to be the other’s parents calling us in sick. That’s not the kind of thing that you can get away with often, but we’d only ever ditched eighth period before, and we hoped we’d get lucky this time. We made sure to wait a few minutes in between so that it would be less suspicious.

When our order came, Hannah pulled a little airplane-sized bottle of vodka out of her purse and started to unscrew it. “Wanna spike your limeade?” she asked.

“No,” I said, alarmed. “It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she said, and laughed. “Like in Norway. Think it’s five o’clock in Norway? I wish I were in Norway. Or Iceland. Or somewhere really far away.” She started to try to pour the vodka into my drink and said, “Come on. Lighten up.”

“Stop it,” I said, and grabbed the bottle.

“Since when did you get all high and mighty?” she asked, annoyed.

“I just—I’m not really drinking now,” I said, “after what happened at that party.”

“You mean after you opened the door on Natalie and me and then decided to ditch us?”

“The reason that I disappeared was that I was messed up.” Then I blurted it out. “Basically Evan Friedman almost raped me. I took some pill that he gave me. He said it was a caffeine pill, but obviously it was something else.”

“Laurel. Oh my god. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you all right?”

“I guess so,” I said. “Finally I shoved him off. And then Sky came in.”

“I think I have to murder Evan,” Hannah said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before. I mean, I’m sorry I don’t talk about stuff that much.” I paused a moment. “Honestly, it’s because of something that happened with my sister.”

Hannah listened as I told her what happened with Paul and Billy and the night that May died. She hugged me when it was over and said how sorry she was. Tears were running down her face.

Then she said, “I guess I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t tell you the truth after you told me all of that.” She looked away for a moment and took the sleeve of her sweatshirt and started to wipe away the fake bruise she had drawn on her face with eye shadow. Her hand was shaking. Underneath there was a real one, yellow and fading. I reached out to touch her arm.

“Was it Jason?” I asked softly.

Hannah nodded. “He was so angry after the party.”

“Has he done that before?”

She shrugged. “Not in a while.”

“We have to do something, Hannah.”

“There’s nothing to do.”

“Have you told your grandparents?”

She shook her head no. “It would just hurt them. My grandma’s sick, and my grandpa has to take care of her. He can hardly even hear when I try to talk to him. I never wanted anyone finding out, because what if they put me in a foster home or something? Or else I’d have to go back to Arizona to my aunt, and then I’d lose Natalie for good, and you, too, and everyone. Jason’s finally going to the Marines in a few months. It’s better just to wait.”

“Natalie doesn’t know?” I asked.

“I’ve never told anyone.”

“You should tell her, Hannah.”

“She’d freak out. She’d want me to talk to someone. Besides, she hates me now anyway.”

“No she doesn’t. You know that. She’s in love with you. Her heart is broken, that’s all.”

“Do you think that I can unbreak it?”

“I think all she wants is for you to love her back, like she loves you.” I paused. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“Then tell her. Please?”

Hannah nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do you want to spend the night tonight? If you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay at my house.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Lucky for you I’m at my dad’s this week, so you won’t be subjected to any questions about whether you’ve accepted Jesus.”

Hannah agreed to throw out the vodka, and we passed the day walking around with our limeades. I still didn’t know what we’d do about Jason, but Hannah said that she wanted to forget about it for a little bit, so we went to the park and swung on the swings and jumped off into the dirt. She sang for me the whole time, a mix of Amy Winehouse and old country songs—“San Francisco Mabel Joy” and “I Fall to Pieces.” Her voice sounded beautiful, in the way that a voice does when you need it. Then we went to Walgreens and unwrapped the lipsticks in secret and tried on nearly every color, until we each picked one out and Hannah bought them for us with her Macaroni Grill money. When we went to check out, the cashier asked us why we weren’t in school. “Mental health day,” Hannah said, so confidently that the cashier just nodded in response. And then toward the end of the day, we took the city bus to my house. I’d texted Dad and asked him if I could have Hannah spend the night. I said I knew it was a school night, but she needed to stay in town. He said yes.

When we got there, I started showing Hannah around—the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, Dad’s room, and my room that is still completely dorky.

Then we passed by May’s room, with its door closed. I paused a moment, almost walking past it, but then I went back and turned the handle to open it.

“And this was my sister’s room,” I said. We walked in, and Hannah started looking around, at May’s half-burned Virgin of Guadalupe candles on the dresser, her collection of heart-shaped sunglasses, her jar full of seashells, her Sunflowers perfume. Her pictures on the bulletin board, the picture of River on the wall, the little globe lights strung around the room. “Wow. Your sister was so cool,” she said.

I smiled. “Yeah. She was.”

Then I heard the front door open. “Dad?” I called.

Hannah seemed nervous suddenly. “Do you think he’ll like me?” she whispered.

“Of course,” I answered as we walked into the living room to say hi.

“Hey, Dad,” I said. “This is Hannah.”

I’d never seen Hannah that way before. She was like a little girl, shifting from foot to foot, wiping her palms on her dress. I guess she cared a lot what he thought. It made me sad, realizing how she probably didn’t have a lot of experience with parents. She extended her hand. “Hello, sir.”

My dad smiled. “Call me Jim. I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

“You too.”

“Are you girls hungry?” Dad asked. It had been forever since we’d really done anything for dinner other than microwave food, and it was usually me who made it. But then he said, “I was thinking of making Jim’s famous tacos.”

He was showing off for Hannah, I thought, and I smiled. I guess having my friend over brightened him up. He wanted to make things good for us.

So Dad cooked tacos, and we ate them together and then made Jiffy Pop and watched a movie on the couch. Dad let us pick, and we chose
Midnight in Paris
, which we all loved. The whole thing was surprisingly fun.

When we went to get ready for bed, Hannah borrowed pajamas. We were lying in my bed under the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, trying to fall asleep, and then Hannah turned over and said, “I guess it’s, like, Jason’s just really pissed off at the world. Our parents are dead, and we got stuck with our grandparents, and he was supposed to get out on a football scholarship, and that got ruined. And I think that he gets scared for me, like I’ll fuck up and I’ll get stuck here. The weirdest part is that I know I should hate him, but I don’t. I mean, of course I do in certain moments. But, you know, he’s my brother. And I still love him, too. Do you think that makes me crazy?”

“No,” I said. “I think that you can feel all of that stuff about him at once.” I thought of your quote, about how with real friends you can feel however you do.

“Hold on one minute,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I wanted to do something nice for Hannah, and I had an idea. I tiptoed out of my room, pulled the attic stairs down from the ceiling, and climbed up into the dark, where May and I used to pretend that we were stowaway kids, hiding on a ship. I found the box marked
Halloween
and pulled it down. I opened it and found the matching pairs of wings that May and I wore, perfectly shaped and stretched over with gauzy panty hose, painted with patterns in glitter. I took May’s pair.