Waiting for You (13 page)

“You have . . .” He leans in closer. “. . . amazing lips.” And then he’s kissing me. And I’m kissing him back. Right here in the middle of Shake Shack where everyone can see!

I never thought my first real kiss would be so public. But it doesn’t even matter. When I’m with Derek, it’s like we’re the only ones who exist. Everything else just fades into the background.

25

Sterling’s in a pissy mood. That Ken guy she was talking to online blocked her. He did it on New Year’s Eve, which was totally lame. I was hoping that Derek would ask me to this big party on New Year’s Eve, but he was at his uncle’s house in New Jersey. So Sterling and I had a pathetic time, eating too many pigs in a blanket appetizers and watching people freezing their butts off in Times Square. Plus, the appetizers were the frozen kind. She didn’t even have the energy to cook. We tried listening to Dirk, but he wasn’t on.

Going back to school today would have been a total drag if it wasn’t for Derek. And Derek kissing me in Shake Shack. And kissing me some more when he took me home. I should be feeling incredible, but every time I think about my parents my heart sinks. This might be a good time to tell Sterling about that. Everyone knows misery loves company. And keeping this kind of stuff in is seriously destructive. It’s killing me, not talking about it.

Sterling keeps banging her pans around. I came over after school because I didn’t want her to be alone.

“How can such a little person make so much noise?” I wonder.

“Like this.”
Bang bop bang
go the pans.

“Impressive. How about using words?”

“That’s so overrated.”

“Fine, but I’m here to listen if you change your mind.”

Sterling glances at me. For a second it looks like she’s going to rant about Ken some more. But then she turns back to the chopping board.

I’m like, “Should you really be chopping those peppers in your condition?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well . . . I sort of have to tell you something.”

“I’m listening.”

“No, it’s . . . It’s serious.”

Sterling puts the knife down and sits at the counter across from me. “Okay.”

How do you say something like this? Do you, like, lead up to it and explain how things got this bad? Or do you just suddenly announce how bad everything is?

I say, “My parents are separated.”

Everything with Sterling changes. The anger disappears from her face. Her mouth hangs open.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Since when?”

“Um. Now, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

I hate putting other people in this type of situation. Not that I’ve ever had to tell anyone something this heinous before. But when you tell someone something like this, it really puts them on the spot. It’s like you’re expecting them to say the right thing or somehow make you feel better. But of course there’s nothing they can say. And there’s nothing they can do.

Unless you’re Sterling.

“Forget this salad,” she says. She takes the chopping board and shoves it on a side counter. “There’s only one solution to a problem like this.” She starts mixing dough for chocolate chip cookies and whipping up her signature frappes. That’s the thing about Sterling. If you’re in pain, she’ll put her issues aside and help you. She has strength like that.

I help by picking out what type of chocolate chips I want for the cookies.

“Comfort food is always the answer,” Sterling promises. She makes the best. If you want mashed potatoes or mac and cheese, Sterling is your girl. It reminds me of when I had my retainer and all I could eat was soft food.

“I shouldn’t have stopped wearing my retainer,” I say.

“Random. But, okay, explain.”

“Because now my tooth is crooked.”

“Then why did you stop wearing your retainer?”

“It was killing me. And I kept throwing it out with my lunch. Then I’d have to dig through the garbage and everyone would be watching. It was so humiliating.”

My dad was the one I told about my retainer. I knew Mom would get mad that I didn’t want to wear it anymore, so I went to him instead. He told me that everything would be okay. That I shouldn’t be living in pain. And he said he’d talk to Mom for me. Which I guess worked, because she never even asked me about it.

That was back when I could trust him. I thought it would always be that way between us. Where I could tell Dad anything and it would be okay. But he wasn’t who I thought he was. He was this other person who was keeping secrets and living another life, going through the motions.

How could something that felt so right actually be so wrong?

26

I’m on my bed reading
The Pact
for the third time when I think I hear my dad’s voice downstairs. But that can’t be right. He’s only been here once since I found out about the separation and that was to take Sandra out. Actually, he came to get both of us, but I said I didn’t feel well. He doesn’t get to come over and try to see me like he didn’t just destroy our entire family. My parents have always told us that actions have consequences. Why does he think that doesn’t apply to him?

This sucks. I should be high on euphoria from my first date with Derek. And going out with him again later this week. And I am, in a way. But then in this other way, all my family drama is making me feel sick.

It’s exhausting.

As if all this doesn’t suck enough, it’s freezing in here. I need another blanket, so I go out to the hall closet for the really heavy wool one. I can hear my parents talking downstairs.

“You can try it,” Mom is saying, “but I don’t think she’ll go for that.”

“How else is this supposed to work?”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before.”

Whatever Dad says next is all muffled, but he sounds annoyed. Like he has any right to be. I heard what Mom just said and I know what she meant. He should have thought about us before. As in, before he cheated on her and destroyed our lives.

I take the blanket back to my room and get under it on my bed. It’s scratchier than I remember. I just want to read and forget about everything else. But that’s impossible. Because someone is knocking on my door.

“Who is it?” I go.

A pause. “It’s Dad.”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

“Marisa. Open the door.”

“I’m busy.”

“I have something for you.”

I
so
don’t want to see him. Or talk to him.

“No, thanks,” I say.

Another pause. Then: “I’m leaving it out here.”

I wait for him to leave. Then I wait some more.

When I open my door a few minutes later, my new bookcase is sitting there. With a big, red bow on top.

He still loves me.

I run downstairs. Maybe he hasn’t left yet. I run out onto the front porch. His car is still in the driveway. So where is he?

I have to talk to him. I have to know the truth. It’s too hard not being able to tell him things, to feel his support, to have him in my life the way he was before.

Because I know Dad, I know that the only place he could be right now is out on the dock. And that’s where I find him. I can tell by the way he’s standing, leaning against the railing and looking down into the water, that he’s crushed. And I’m the one who’s crushed him.

“Hey, kid,” Dad goes.

I lean against the railing next to him.

“It was wrong not to tell you,” he says. “I wanted to tell you before I moved out.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Dad shakes his head. “I had to consider your mom’s feelings.”

All of the rage boils up again. I go, “How could you do this to us?”

“It was the only way. We can’t be separated and living in the same house.”

“And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“Don’t be mad at her.”

Yeah, right. Like I’m not going to hate Dad’s girlfriend.

I’m like, “She wrote you a letter a while ago, didn’t she?”

“Who?”

“The person I’m not supposed to be mad at.”

“I was talking about your mom. Not to be mad at your mom.”

“Why would I be mad at her?”

Dad scoffs. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No. I guess she thought you should be the one to do that.”

“Why would I—who do you think that letter was from?”

I try to say,
The woman you’re having an affair with.
But I can’t make those words come out.

“Is that why you’ve been so mad at me?” Dad says. “You think I’m having an affair?”

“You’re not?”

“No! I can’t believe—no. I’m not. I would never do something like that.”

“Then why are you guys separated?”

“Didn’t your mom talk to you about this?”

“No. She’s not telling me anything.”

Dad rubs his hands over his face. “I can’t believe this.”

“Can you just tell me? I mean . . . if you’re not having an affair, then whatever it is—”

“It was her!” Dad bursts out. “Your mother’s the one who’s having an affair.”

Oh. My. God.

“I’m sorry,” Dad says. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I’m—” He bends over the railing. The vein on his temple is pulsing, the way it always does when he’s angry.

“I can’t believe I thought you . . . I’m so sorry, Dad.”

“You didn’t know.”

Mom was the one. Not Dad. Unbelievable.

How could she let me think it was him? How could she do this to Dad?

“Hey,” Dad says. “You okay?”

“No. I’m definitely
not
okay.” I stomp away from the railing. “I can’t believe Mom did this. I hate her!”

“Marisa—”

“How is that—” I’m so furious I can’t even get the words together. I hate being so angry. And talking about it will just make me angrier. So I go, “Could we not talk about this now?”

It doesn’t look like Dad’s going to let me get away with my usual avoidance tactics. But then he goes, “What else has been going on in your life?”

We stay out on the dock for a long time, catching up on all the things that happened while I refused to see him. It feels good to have someone listen, even if I can’t talk about everything I should. It’s just good to know he’s still here.

27

Being back at school as Derek’s girlfriend is awesome. People are definitely noticing me more, and not in a bad way. All I want to do is be with him. The thing is, I can’t tell him about myI parents. Talking about it with Sterling helped and I really want to tell Nash, but Derek is out-of-bounds. Who would want to go out with a loser who’s nothing but problems and misery?

When I’m with Derek, it’s like none of that stuff exists. I can escape into this happy place and block out my problems. I can pretend that everything’s okay. Kind of like when I’m in my darkroom.

There’s a whole new series of river photos I’m developing. I’ve been capturing the Now of the river in each season. So far, I like the ones from last summer the best. On the sunniest days, the river has all these bright sparkles in it. The light radiates in a way that makes it seem like it’s coming from within the water instead of just being reflected from the surface.

I hang up the prints to dry and head to the kitchen for a drink. I stop outside the doorway. Aunt Katie is here, talking to Mom. Mom tried to talk to me after I found out the truth from Dad, but I just went to my room and slammed the door. That was two days ago and I’ve been avoiding her ever since. Oh, and I found out who that blue letter was from, the one for Dad. It was from Megan, who was his high school sweetheart. She got in touch with him before the separation and he didn’t even respond until he moved out. Being reunited after all these years must be weird. I wonder if you can really be just friends with someone you used to love.

There are some crumpled tissues on the kitchen table and Mom looks like she’s been crying. They haven’t seen me, so I move to the side where I can listen.

“You did the right thing,” Aunt Katie is saying.

“Maybe,” Mom says. “But that doesn’t make it better.”

“It’ll get better. Give it time.”

“I should have seen this coming,” Mom says. “I shouldn’t have let it get this bad. I was going to tell Marisa back in November, but . . .”

Someone’s spoon clinks against a mug. They usually sit in the kitchen and drink coffee and talk about stuff, but I never knew they talked about this. Not here, anyway.

“You have to tell them now,” Aunt Katie says.

“I know. I have no idea how I’ve avoided it this long. I hinted at it when I told Marisa about the separation, but I just couldn’t admit everything.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“They’ll hate me. Look how Marisa’s been treating me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. They’ll understand.”

“What if they don’t? What will I tell Jack?”

Jack? Who’s
Jack
?

“Don’t worry,” Aunt Katie says. “It’ll work out.”

“He really wants to get to know them . . . and I hate the girls not knowing about him. . . . I just wish I knew how to do this.”

“It’s not like Mom gave us much to go by.” They laugh for some private reason.

Who the hell is Jack? We don’t know any Jack. And the only way Mom would meet someone new would be at work, where—

Wait. Jack who came to dinner Jack? How could she like that guy? He was a total dumbass!

“This kind of stuff happens a lot these days,” Aunt Katie says. “Separation, divorce, stepparents . . . it’s very common.”

“God. What does that say about us?”

“That you’re not settling. That you’re insisting on happiness.”

“I feel so selfish.”

“Don’t. Jack gives you what you need. There’s no way you knew this would happen when you got married.”

“It was a good marriage.” Mom’s voice cracks. “We had nineteen good years.”