They sang “Happy Birthday” and asked me how my room was, then stood around looking nervous. It was a visit just like all their others, except for the song. Laurie had asked me about that too. She has a question for everything.
Mom and Dad were both going to take me to the mall, but last night at dinner we were talking (by which I mean 10
I just sat there and tried to think of things to say when they asked me stuff—until now, dinner was always a two-person show) and Dad suggested she and I go since Mom wasn’t teaching today. He said he’d take me to get school supplies over the weekend.
Mom looked hurt (oh no, they weren’t going to be doing everything together!) and Dad reached out and took her hand, giving her the “you’re my whole world”
look. I don’t get how they can be so into each other. It’s not normal. (Julia thought it was sweet, but then she was in love with the whole idea of love. In my book being that
“in love” is, frankly, kind of creepy.) Anyway, they were holding hands and fi nishing each other’s sentences and Dad was starting to talk about trying to rearrange his schedule. I could feel myself fading, becoming invisible girl once again, but then Mom said,
“You know, I think that’s a great idea.”
She almost sounded like she meant it. Almost.
We went, just the two of us, and I spent the fi rst ten minutes waiting for her to shrivel up because Dad wasn’t around. She seemed fi ne, though.
Me—well, that was different. The mall was bigger than I remembered, too full of crap and people. One of the first stores we passed was the one where me and Julia almost got busted for putting a skirt in my purse. I’d 11
wanted to grab a plaid one, but she’d found one that was so much cooler. She had this gift of being able to fi nd the most amazing clothes in any store. Two seconds and she’d have the perfect outfi t, an outfi t that no one else but her could wear.
Anyway, she picked the skirt, it was in my bag, and we almost exploded trying not to laugh on our way out of the store.
I couldn’t breathe, thinking about that. How hard we tried not to laugh. How hard she did once we were back out in the mall again, her head thrown back and her eyes shining.
Julia always laughed so loudly, so happily.
I’m never going to hear her laugh again.
Everything started going fuzzy then, black around the edges.
“Mom,” I said. “I have to sit down.”
Mom took me to the food court, bought me a soda, and called Dad. I didn’t bother listening to the conversation because no one needs to hear “I love you” forty-seven million times. You’d think they’d get sick of saying it to each other. I know they never will.
Mom wouldn’t take me home when I fi nished my soda. I said, “But what about Dad?” and she said, “He’s fine. Which store do you want to go to fi rst?”
12
So we went shopping. What else could I do? We went into store after store, Mom looking, me standing there, trying to breathe. She kept showing me these little skirts and shirts, stuff like—stuff like Julia and me always wore.
She even said, “If I had your figure . . . ,” and I stared at her until she said, “Oh, Amy, I understand. You and Julia probably came here, right?” and squeezed my hand.
I’d always wanted to do this kind of thing with her, go shopping, do mom-and-daughter stuff I should have stopped longing for in middle school. I never wanted it to be like this.
On the way home, Mom asked about birth control, the question too casual to be anything but practiced at least a hundred times. I told her there was nothing to tell.
She said, “I know there must be,” so I told her I knew all about it and had been extra careful ever since I had to take a pregnancy test when I was fourteen. I shouldn’t have done it, but I didn’t want to talk about sex with Mom and I knew that would stop the conversation.
It did, and I thought about the day Julia told me she needed to buy a pregnancy test. She’d cried and then wiped her eyes and smiled at me. She’d said, “It’ll be okay.”
I should have said that to her. I should have said something. Done something. Anything. Instead I just sat there.
13
I thought about sitting in Julia’s bathroom, holding her hand as we waited for the results. She spun around in circles after the little stick showed everything would be fine, turning and turning with a smile on her face. We went to a party that night, and she got so high she fell in a bathtub and split her lip open. I tried to clean her up and ended up smearing blood all over her shirt.
We both pretended she wasn’t crying.
As Mom and I finished our drive home in silence, I thought about the mall again.
I’d seen Kevin there. Trailing Mom from one store to another and there he was, standing with his jerkass friends, hanging out. When he saw me, he glared, as if he’s in so much pain. No matter how much he wishes Julia was here, I wish it more.
I pretended I didn’t see him, and watched Mom fl ip through shirts I wouldn’t let her buy me.
