Notes to Self (11 page)

I liked getting the letters, and I always wrote back to her. I remembered trying to sound wise, like she did, when I wrote my little messages longhand on pretty paper. I wondered if Aunt Susan would come for a visit. She and my mom had been fighting forever, but since neither one of them could probably even remember how it started, I thought maybe she would come.

I dug through my desk drawers and found the bundle of letters from her. I read bits and pieces of them. The strangest part was that things that had once made no sense to me (or not much, anyway) seemed reasonable now. I sat down on the floor, the letters scattered around me, and I read. My attention didn’t even wander once, but I did get dizzy a few times. The walls of our apartment were alternately concave and convex.

Dearest Robin,

I had the most interesting thought as I watched an old fisherman on his boat this morning. He looked so happy out there. I noticed he only caught three or four fish (and threw them back), but I don’t think the fish were the point. I’m not sure what the point
was
, exactly, but I’m guessing it was just being out on the water, under the puffy clouds and blue sky. Anyway, here’s the thought. (I’m sure you’re sitting on the edge of your seat.) Each little action we take expresses our mind.  This is interesting to notice in your daily life, I think. Just see how much you can tell about a person by the way she walks or how he eats a meal. How do you express your mind, dear niece? Are the people around you sensitive enough to understand the ways in which you do? I hope so.

You probably wonder if we will ever meet. I wish that we will. You see, adults are often not as mature as kids, so it’s not so easy for us to make the things that we wish to happen, happen. But know that you are in my thoughts and there are people in the world who love you very much, even though you might not know us very well. Does that make sense? Do you think of me as your nutty relative? I don’t mind if you do. I’ve never been all that interested in being normal.

I got the poem you sent me. I love it so much that I put it on the mirror in the head (the head is the name we give bathrooms on boats). That way, I see it a few times per day.

I stopped reading. Yeah, she was kinda wacked, but I wanted to meet her. What I needed to find was the letter where she included her phone number.

Dearest Robin,

Today, I decided to start my day with a swim. You’d think that a lady on a houseboat would start *every* day with a swim, but the truth is, I don’t. The water is a bit too cold for my liking, and it’s just easier to sit on the back deck of my little boat and drink tea and read and watch the birds than it is to jump on in. But I’ve got a new neighbor out here in the sound and each day I’ve watched him go swimming. He’s just the smiliest person you’d ever want to see, so I thought maybe he’s on to something. I jumped in.

I only swam for maybe twenty minutes, but let me tell you, it changed my whole day. I felt so alive! So energized. I realized I’d been holding back for some reason. I think we all do that, even those of us who have promised to live on our own terms, off the grid and away from the rat race. It’s so easy to get stuck in our old ways of doing things, to forget that each day is a
new
day instead of a repeat of the one before.

You can ask yourself: How wholeheartedly are you participating in your own life? Or are you holding back? Are you being reserved? Are you refusing to invest your whole energy or your whole being into the situation at hand? I’ve learned that it's not holding back and saving your energy that gives you more energy, it’s throwing yourself in the water.

And I have been reserved, Robin. I live alone on a houseboat, for God’s sake. If you’d like a visit, and it is okay with Grace, please give me a call. 253-996-0332.

“Aunt Susan? This is, um, Robin. Your niece. I’d like you to come to Florida.” I stood in the kitchen with the ancient cordless. I couldn’t believe I’d never dared to do this before. I guess now, with my brain all topsy-turvy in my head, the world felt a little topsy-turvy, too. Like I could do anything and get away with it. “I, um, want to meet you. If you’re…available.”

“I’ll be on the next flight, kiddo.” Her voice was louder than I expected it to be, but she didn’t sound crazy. I immediately knew I’d done the right thing. The phone was full of life and I needed life. “I’m literally already packing.” I heard some sort of clatter in the background. Houseboats are probably pretty cramped.

“Ha. You better let me break the news to Mom first.”

“Next week, then. I’m glad you called. So glad. Grace sent an e-mail to the whole family saying you were hurt, but we haven’t gotten any updates and I didn’t have a current phone number for you. I’ve been worried sick.
Sick.”
I heard another clatter. “Did you get my e-mails?”

“I was. I fell. But I’m okay. I haven’t really been checking my e-mail. I’m sorry.” I was recovering so fast, even my memory, but Emily wasn’t recovering at all. My lack of headaches made me feel guilty all over again. How could two girls fall thirty feet, one of them walking away with barely a bump while the other sleeps an endless sleep? I thought about the people who say, “
Good things happen to good people,”
and wanted to punch them in the neck. Because aren’t they basically saying the opposite also? I figured on a scale of goodness, I was medium. Maybe.

“What happened? Your mother was pretty fuzzy on the details.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, but I kind of hated talking on the phone. I told her to write when she got her flight and that I didn’t care if Mom flipped out. Susan said she did care, that she didn’t want any flipping out to happen because of her, but that she’d risk it.

“It’s so nice to hear your voice, honey. All these years, I knew you existed, but I didn’t
know
know. You know?”

“Same here. I’ll see you soon?”

“Definitely.”

CHAPTER 28

CROSSWORD PUZZLES AND LONGING

After I hung up with Aunt Susan, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and made faces at my reflection for a while. My eyes looked different than they had the day I’d cut my hair: my irises were all one shade of gray and darker than before. I frowned. How could that change? Was I losing it? I forgotten why I’d gone in there. I brushed my teeth, double-checked that the door to our apartment was triple-locked, and went to bed in my closet. Since it was only Tuesday, and Tuesdays were slow at the restaurant, Mom would be home soon. I felt lonely and freaked out.

Mom got her job at the Happy Bean a little more then a year ago, when her third-to-last semester started at UCF. I invented the world’s best chip dip there one time by combining pesto sauce with sour cream and adding grated cheese and a little salsa. All the waitresses loved it.

Max always told me to smile. He was the manager and my mom’s friend. They aren’t dating or anything, but you can tell he loves her in a totally sad, pathetic way. She gets the best shifts and the best sections and gets to go home early a lot and use his car, et cetera. When I’m there, sitting at the bar, Max always tells the bartender to make me a stiff kiddie cocktail—um, what the hell does that even mean? I’ll have water, thanks—and he always asks to see my “pretty smile.” Even though he’s a perfectly decent person, I loathe him.

The last time I went in, it was really slow so my mom had only one table. Max was working on a crossword puzzle and needed help figuring out a four letter word for a woodwind instrument. “Oboe,” Mom and I both said at the same time. He smiled at us and wrote it in very carefully. I leaned over and saw that his handwriting was sloppy. I also noticed the way he looked at my mom when he said, “smart ladies all around me!” I spilled my “stiff” soda on his crossword. Not by accident.

Shut up. I know I’m a baby.

CHAPTER 29

CLEAN SLATE

“I’m not going to school,” I mumbled. It was nine a.m. I’d missed the first bell by an hour and ten minutes. Mom said she thought sleep was more important than school for me, so she hadn’t opened up my closet door at 7:15.

“Fine. You want to go to the hospital to see Emily instead?”

“Yeah.” I paused. “Mom? I, um, called Aunt Susan. She’s coming for a visit next week.”

“You what?” she dropped her glasses.

“Called Aunt Susan. I want to meet her.” I hugged my pillow defensively.

“I can’t believe you…my God, this place is a disaster!” she left my room. I could hear her digging under the kitchen sink for Windex. I groaned, crawled out of the closet, and opened my laptop. No matter how stressed out I got, I never dealt with it by cleaning.

“
Moooommm
,” I yelled. “She can stay in a hotel.”

“We’ll talk about this later. Get dressed.”

CHAPTER 30

PLEASE

Emily looked the same, but maybe the tiniest bit paler. Her hands were different, though. They were curled up into tiny fists and it made me want to hold them, to comfort her.  I asked a nurse if it was okay to touch her, and she said it was, so I did. I didn’t try to unclench Em’s hand, I just put mine on top and hoped that she could feel it.

“Hi, E. How are you? Not so good, I guess. But maybe you’re dreaming something really amazing and I’m interrupting. You look good. Like, I mean, your skin is really clear. But I guess it always was, wasn’t it? Remember how I was always trying to steal that skin stuff from Sephora you used? With the bamboo extract? Oh my God, what am I even talking about? Sorry.

“I called my Aunt Susan. Remember those whacked letters she was always writing me? I decided they were actually kind of decent yesterday, so I decided to call her. I can’t figure out if my mom is pissed or not. She said we’ll talk about it later, so she probably is. Or maybe she’s happy. She’s cleaning like a maniac.

“I wish you’d wake up, Em. I mean, obviously, but for all these other tiny reasons too. I want to ask you if you think my hair is okay. I cut it really short, and I like it, but it’s weird. My head is lighter, but I feel so out there… especially the back of my neck. My mom says it looks nice, but I doubt she’d tell me if it didn’t because the least little thing makes me cry.

“I don’t really mind that much when I cry. I just cry. And then I stop. It seems like before, before the accident, I mean, any time I cried I got all super embarrassed about it. That’s why I stopped doing it. I guess I wanted to be tough, but now that doesn’t feel so important any more. All that feels important is you getting better. That’s it. That’s the only effing thing I really care about.

“Please wake up, Em. You probably don’t, like, get a vote or anything, but if you do I hope you’ll hear what I’m saying and come back. I mean, I can maybe,
maybe
survive the rest of sophomore year without you if I absolutely have to and if you need a few months to get better. But there is no way I can handle the rest high school without you. No way.

“But I mean, it doesn’t matter about me or what I can handle. You shouldn’t just come back for me. Everyone misses you.”

I stopped talking and took a deep breath.

“Here’s the thing, Emily. I’m, um, writing these notes to myself to try to, you know, sort of figure out who I am. Does that sound weird? I wish we could work on it together. I just added, ‘I’m shy, not sweet.’ I’m pretty sure that’s, you know, accurate.”

I paused, trying to figure out how to explain what I was trying to say.

“I know you understand what I mean, E. I miss having someone around who gets that. Even Reno doesn’t. He thinks that the times when I’m not being nice, it’s just a front. But it’s
not.
I don’t want to make other friends. I hate making friends. Remember when I told you that? And you laughed, because for you it’s the easiest thing in the whole world. You can make a friend, like, in two minutes in line for the bathroom. I can’t. And I don’t want to. I just remember how whenever I told you anything, you always took my side. Even when I wrong. It’s nice to have someone who always takes your side. I guess that’s what best friends do. You know, if they are real best friends.”

I dabbed my eyes with some tissues from Emily’s box, hoping that was okay. “I really wasn’t even kidding about the bawling, Em. One minute I’m laughing, the next I’m crying like a freaking first grader.”

I touched Emily’s hand again. It was cool, but not freezing. Her fingernails were short. Did one of the nurses trim them? I guess it had only been about twenty days since the accident. Was that all? Twenty days? It felt like twenty years. I watched her closed eyes for several minutes, praying that I’d see them open. Once in a while I thought I saw something, a flicker, some motion of the eyeball behind the lid, but I couldn’t be sure. I waited and waited but I was so tired, I wasn’t even sure what was real anymore. My memories of Emily were so vivid—more vivid than real life, it seemed—that it didn’t seem possible she could be this still.

My mom came in with a fresh pot of flowers and a soda. She saw that I’d been crying and gave me a squeeze. Together, we sat with Emily for a long time. I guess we were praying. I just kept saying the word
please
in my head, over and over.

CHAPTER 31

WHY DO I EVEN TRY?

“I skipped school today and went to see Emily,” I told Reno.

“Did you get in trouble?” he asked. We sat by my apartment complex’s pool on junky lounge chairs. It was actually kind of chilly outside. I wore my granny sunglasses even though the sun was low in the sky. He wore a baseball cap. The pool had some leaves and other crap in it; I don’t think it got cleaned, ever. I never went in it, but today I didn’t feel like sitting in my room. We were trying to decide if we were ambitious enough to walk to Sonic.