I’d only been a kid when her accident had happened, but it was still an event that loomed large in my memory. I clearly recalled the bake sales and car washes that were held to raise money for her hospital expenses, as well as seeing her parents push her in a wheelchair into Da Vinci’s for pizza. Even after the hospital and rehab, Rachel had looked the same, for the most part, a pretty, normal girl. At least on the outside. Within her mind, though, she’d remained sixteen, even as her body, friends, and family grew older. How weird that must be, to stay the same as everyone else changes. Even if you weren’t able to understand, you had to notice.
For some reason, right then, I thought of my mom, seeing again her hurt face looking at me, once that missile was launched. She, too, had hit the pause button on her life, albeit in a different way, when she got pregnant with me. Left behind while everyone else grew up, moved away, moved on. Talk about accountability.
I sucked in a breath, putting my hand to my chest. I knew the sound could not have carried far, but across the backyard, Rachel suddenly looked up, seeing me. A half-finished Gert bracelet hung from one hand, a bead poised in the fingers of the other. After a moment, she looked away.
I turned, walking quickly to the front of the store. The TV was showing a clip of a guy holding up a huge marlin: RECORD BREAKER! the text below read. I pulled out a couple of bills, put them on the counter, and left.
Make your choices well, my mom had said. It was what she thought she hadn’t done, what she hoped above everything I’d do differently. On the flip side, though, there was Clyde, telling me that there were second chances, even—and especially—when you’ve given up all hope of them. But maybe, when a life and summer was going so fast, you couldn’t wait for fate to punch the time card. You had to do it yourself.
My father’s house was only a few blocks from Gert’s. When I turned in the driveway, the paper was still there, but the front door was open. Someone was already up.
Up on the porch, I peered through the screen, expecting to find Benji at the table with his laptop and other distractions. Instead, I saw only my father, a coffee mug in hand. He had his back to me and was sitting alone in the only chair remaining in the otherwise empty living room.
“Hello?” I called out.
He turned, squinting to make me out through the screen. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” I replied. Then, to clarify: “Emaline.”
“Oh.” I saw him check his watch. “Come in.”
I did, noting the loud creak of the screen door as I eased it open. I would have to tell Margo to grease that before she showed the house, although I was sure she’d already made a note of it, somewhere. “You’re up early,” I said.
“As are you,” he replied, as I came into the living room. He glanced around. “I’d offer you a seat, but . . .”
“It’s fine,” I said, sitting down on the bare floor. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were only keeping the minimum, were you?”
“I hadn’t expected to go quite this sparse,” he replied, looking around again. “Your sister, however, made a strong argument for having a ‘blank slate’ so possible buyers could ‘create their own vision.’”
I smiled. “That sounds like Margo. Not only a realtor, but a force of nature.”
“Not unlike another woman from the same family I know,” he said, taking a sip from his mug.
“Mom can be hard to deal with,” I agreed, pulling my legs up to my chest. “I can attest to that personally. Especially today.”
“Mom?” He looked confused. “I was talking about you, actually.”
“Me?” I said. He nodded. “Oh. Sorry. I—”
“Emily as a force of nature,” he said slowly, as if trying out not only the words but the very concept. “Can’t say that’s the first thing that comes to mind when I think of her.”
I had a feeling I knew what that first thing was. Sitting here in front of him, eighteen years later. I didn’t say this, though. I’d start really talking when I was ready.
“Of course, she was young when I knew her. We both were. Just about your age, I guess. Wow.” He sighed, was quiet for a moment. Then, suddenly, he smiled apologetically, as if just remembering I was there. “I’m sorry. You caught me in an entirely too introspective moment. All too common lately, I’m afraid.”
“It’s okay,” I told him. “Seems to be going around.”
He picked up his cup again. “Honestly, I thought I’d be thrilled to get an early offer on this place. But now that it might really happen, the thought of leaving it behind, for good . . . it’s more bittersweet than I expected.”
“You got an offer already?”
He looked at me, nodding. “Just yesterday. It’s only been on the market three weeks. So much for the bust, huh?”
“Are you going to take it?”
“We very well might.” He sat back, taking another sip. “It would really be ideal. We could get the paperwork going, then head back to the city. Benji would have time to get adjusted to me moving out before school starts . . .”
“He thinks he’s here for a while longer, though,” I said.
“I know. And he’ll be disappointed. But we have to leave eventually. A few weeks one way or the other won’t make that much of a difference.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. There may have only been a certain number of days before I left myself for school—not that I had counted them out to the one—but if they were suddenly taken, I knew I’d feel cheated. And maybe a little scared. “I’m really . . .” I said. I swallowed. “I’ll miss him.”