What's Broken Between Us (21 page)

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M
y brother’s tattoo, translated, says, “There is no greater sorrow.”

It’s plucked from the verse: “There is no greater sorrow than to be mindful of the happy time in misery.”

He lets me in on this secret mere minutes before he’s about to step through the prison doors. Again. This time he won’t be coming home for three years.

“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him.

He doesn’t smile. “Neither do I.”

“Good-bye,” I offer.

But he’s silent as my parents hug him, and Gary leads him through the doors back to jail.

“Wait—” Panic hits me all at once. My dad catches my hand as I step forward.

I want to scream.
What’s going to happen to you?

Jonathan glances over his shoulder once, before the door falls shut.

It’s the late
afternoon when we get back. There are two shadows sitting on the front steps, backlit by a gray sunset. I’d been texting with Dawn and Henry the entire ride home, and here they both are, standing up and coming toward me as I get out of the car and rush up the walkway.

I hug Dawn, even though it’s Henry who looks like he could use the hug. He nervously scuffs his toe along the pavement, marking a line in the snow dusted on the walkway after shoveling. He’s holding a pink box that I suspect contains ham and cheese croissants from Ludwig’s.

I pull back from Dawn. “What are you doing here?” I ask both of them.

“You know how my finals ended yesterday, but I wasn’t scheduled to fly out until tonight?” I’m nodding as she continues. I can’t stop staring at her—she looks the same! Except for the tan, of course. It feels like a miracle that I can even recognize her after the past few months, when she’s seemed like such a stranger. “I was able to switch to an earlier flight, so here I am.”

We both look at Henry at the exact same time.

“
I
was supposed to be the surprise,” Dawn says, smiling at him. “But I saw him sitting in his car across the street, in front
of
my
house, after I got your text that said you were ten minutes away.”

I nod. Henry got the same text.

Dawn shrugs. “Since we were both waiting for you to get home, I thought we might as well wait together.” I don’t think the old Dawn, pre-UCSB—the Dawn who agreed that I shouldn’t cry in front of certain people, and who thought dating Graham was a great idea—would have done this.

“I brought an assortment from Ludwig’s,” Henry says, looking down again, now that my parents have started up the walkway.

“Dawn! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She laughs as my father hugs her, and glances at me over his shoulder. I’m sure she’s thinking about chapter 1: “Generalities.” Mumsy takes Dawn’s hand and gives her a cheek press in place of a kiss on the cheek, since she’s wearing lipstick. But I notice she doesn’t let go of Dawn’s hand right away.

My parents acknowledge Henry at the same time, in the same way—by holding their breath and smiling awkwardly. My dad tries to say something but ends up just letting out a big puff of air.

“You guys know Henry, right?” post-high-school Dawn says, surprising us all.

They only know Henry as Sutton’s brother, a passing face, in and out of our house to retrieve her. I’m trying to think of something to say to smooth things over, to introduce Henry as someone who’s important to me.

“What’s that you’ve got there, Henry?” My mother addresses Henry and I’m shocked, not only that she’s brave enough to speak Sutton’s younger brother, but that she knows his name. She nods to the large box in his hands.

“From Ludwig’s,” Henry says. “He loaded me up with every flavor.” He glances at me, gives a half shrug. “I thought that maybe . . .” but he doesn’t finish.

“I don’t usually eat pastries,” Mumsy says.

He nods, straightening his arms and lowering the doughnut box.

“But today, I could really use one.”

He hesitates, but smiles as she reaches out to take the box from him.

“Come on,” my dad says, motioning like he’s going to scoop us all up and carry us. “It’s freezing out here, and those doughnuts are getting cold.”

“He was in his car,
hiding
,” Dawn says to my dad as she walks beside him up the walkway. I want to kill her. But maybe she’s helping us do what we should have done all along, breaking down the tension. Maybe she’s been gone long enough to see right through it. Maybe it’s because she’s here for only a few weeks and doesn’t have time for this.

“No more hiding,” my dad says, looking over his shoulder and winking at Henry and me in a move he must’ve pulled from chapter 14: “How to Royally Embarrass Your Daughter.”

I grab Henry’s hand as we walk inside, and he seems more relaxed. I think that everything won’t always be so hard. Someday
we’ll stop measuring things in sadness and anger. Someday we’ll learn how to live carelessly.

Lifeline
Exclusive: Troubled Youth Series: Where Are They Now?

Patricia Johnson interviewing Jonathan Tart, January, thirty days into his incarceration. Unedited.

Airdate: April 29

PJ: Jonathan, nice to see you again.

JT: Is it? Really? Nice to see you again too, Patricia.

PJ: I wish it were under different circumstances.

JT: We can’t keep meeting like this.

PJ: Why don’t you go ahead and tell us why you’re back in here?

JT: Gross violation of my probation. Specifically, public drunkenness. Even more specifically, public urination.

PJ: After the leniency of your last sentence, why would you disregard the restraints of your probation? What happened?

JT: I never met a bottle of whiskey I didn’t like.

PJ: You’ll be twenty in a few days, I’m told.

JT: It’s true. I’m growing up.

PJ: You had the opportunity to put your mistakes behind you—frankly, a real shot at a second chance that not many people get. Several young people find
themselves in this position, back in jail, breaking the rules set forth under their probation. Why do you think that is?

JT: Speaking only for myself—

PJ: Of course, of course.

JT: I felt untouchable.

PJ: Like nothing so bad could ever happen to you . . .

JT: Like, I didn’t care if it did.

PJ: That’s a shame. It was a real opportunity for you to set an example.

JT: A bad example, you’re right.

PJ: So why not rise to the occasion?

JT: You know, it’s funny, my ex-girlfriend said something to me a while ago—

PJ: The same ex-girlfriend who was involved in your car accident? Have you reconciled with her?

JT: I’m flattered you remember, Patricia.

PJ: We have a fact-checker, if you recall? Please continue.

JT: Right before I left to come here, I told her, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

PJ: Okay.

JT: And she said . . .

PJ: Yes?

JT: “There is no other side.” She was right.

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TK

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ALEXIS BASS
, the author of Love and Other Theories, grew up in Washington and currently lives in Northern California, where she works in marketing and writes novels for teens. You can visit her online at www.alexisbassbooks.com.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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Love and Other Theories

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

WHAT’S BROKEN BETWEEN US
. Copyright © 2015 by Alexis Bass. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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ISBN 978-0-06-227535-6

EPub Edition April 2015 ISBN 9780062408525

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