Tell Me Not to Go Page 19

  In the kitchen, Jude is busy groping Lizzie, as she tries to thank him for all his work.

  “I’m so proud of you, baby,” he says, and then Lizzie gives up the fight and kisses him.

  “Mom and Dad are right behind me.” I say, loud enough for the lovebirds to hear.

  Lizzie unglues herself from Jude’s body and smooths down her dress.

  “This is a nice place you have here, Jude,” my dad says when he walks in.

  The praise surprises me. Jude and Lizzie’s visit to Utah during spring break must have gone better than I thought.

  Jude shakes Dad’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Sir?” I whisper to Sam.

  “Your dad is scary,” she whispers back.

  True. My dad isn’t a tall guy, or a big guy, but he’s a serious guy. And you know by looking at him that he’s never taken anyone’s crap in his life. Except for my mom’s, of course.

  Speaking of which, Mom has been avoiding me. She would deny it even under torture, but her eye contact has been noticeably absent.

  She beams at Sam, though, her smile so much like Lizzie’s. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

  “Me, too,” Sam says, stepping into my mom’s outstretched arms.

  Mom and Sam pair off, chatting nonstop, but the whole time, Mom’s looking at me out of the corner of her eye, probably assessing and analyzing our relationship.

  Especially when Sam mentions she’s leaving for med school soon.

  The curious looks continue outside as we eat. Sam, Lizzie, Jude, and I are at a table with both sets of parents—thanks to my brother David, who ditches me.

  “Lizzie’s friends are hot. Why would I want to sit near you?” he says, heading to a table filled with Angel and a bunch of other girls.

  They are cute, but when David gets there, they give him the cold shoulder—probably because he said something stupid. So, at least there’s that.

  Angel doesn’t pay any attention to him either. Instead, she is leaning really close to a girl I’ve never seen before, hanging on her every word.

  “When did you say you were moving to LA?” Mom asks Sam, breaking my train of thought.

  I’m not sure when my mother made it her mission in life to see me married and settled. After the pregnancy scare, Mom got this irrational fear that I was not going to be able to commit and give her the grandchildren she’s hoping for. And somehow she’s convinced herself that it’s within her rights to dictate my choices. Maybe that was her way of grieving the grandchild she lost. Or at least that’s what I tell myself so I don’t kill her.

  “I leave in July,” Sam says, her voice subdued.

  Mom gives me the side eye again, so I take another bite of my taco.

  “Seems like there’re a lot of crazy people down there,” Dad says to Sam.

  “Well, I was raised by these crazies right here, so I think I’ll be okay.”

  Sam gestures to her mom and dad, and my parents’ eyes go wide. But Divina and Joe laugh.

  “I’m pretty sure our girl can take whatever they have to dish out,” Sam’s dad says. “Jeff, did Sam ever tell you about the time she had to bail us out of jail after that protest? What was it Divina? Iraq?”

  Divina kisses him on the cheek. “No, sweetie. The Occupy one, I think.”

  The muscle in my dad’s jaw ticks, he’s clenching his mouth so tightly. His politics could best be described as “I have an arsenal in my shed” libertarianism. If that.

  “Lizzie, where will you be living after school?” Divina asks.

  She takes a bite of her vegetarian soft taco, unaware of the hell she has just unleashed. Sam tries to clear her throat to get Divina’s attention, but it’s a no go.

  Lizzie looks around, like she’s searching for an emergency exit sign. But there is only a lawn and some bushes that are too small to hide behind.

  “Umm . . . well, actually, I’m moving in here.”

  Jude sits upright, like he’s preparing for attack.

  Divina doesn’t notice. “How wonderful. I could tell right away you two were a love match.”

  I try to avoid my parents’ gaze, but my dad is staring past me at Jude, and it’s as though a bullet grazed my forehead.

  Dad ignores everyone at the table and speaks straight to Jude. “I thought we had an understanding.”

  Jude sets his napkin down. “We did. We still do.”

  Lizzie’s face darkens, like a cloud passed over it. “An understanding?”

  Jude whispers in her ear, but her expression doesn’t change.

  Sam’s dad looks back and forth, gauging my parents’ displeasure.

  “The key here is to communicate,” Joe says, turning to my dad. “Carl, maybe you should tell Lizzie how you’re feeling about her moving in with Jude when they’re not married.”

  It’s as though a cartoon bubble is hanging over Dad’s head, and in that bubble is a stick figure of him breaking Joe’s neck. Lizzie looks at me, panicked.

  “Well, I think it’s wonderful,” Divina chimes in. “They’re so in love. And their physical connection is incredible. Such passion.”

  Sam stands up, almost knocking my glass over. “Mom, Dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Can you come with me inside, please?”

  “That’s fine, kitten, but I think they could really use some help talking this through,” Joe says as he takes Divina’s hand, and they leave the table.

  I can’t help it; I start to laugh. And once I start, I can’t stop. Sam shoots me a dirty look. Then Lizzie. Then Jude. I don’t care; I love my sister, but I’m so happy this is her battle and not mine.

  “Jeffrey, that’s not helping,” my mom says, her face grim.

  I excuse myself so they can hash it out.

  “Thanks a lot, ass,” Lizzie whispers as I leave. But I know she’d do the same in my position.

  My parents will survive. If my dad didn’t have a heart attack when I got Lacey pregnant, he’ll live through this. Maybe someday, he’ll realize that no amount of steely-eyed will can force his children’s lives to be exactly as he hoped.

  I find Sam sitting by herself on the front porch. I come up next to her, the wood creaking when I bend down to sit. When I turn to her, she blows a noisemaker at me. I pull it out of her mouth and kiss her lips—soft and full as always.

  “Happy graduation.”

  She shakes her head. “Your family. Crazy. Every last one of you.”

  “I’ve seen your parents naked. I’m going to come back to that for a minute.”

  She holds her hands up. “Alright. Truce.”

  She gets quiet and her eyes are so luminescent they look wet. I swear, I know exactly what she’s thinking. Time is like a tangible force—each second that ticks by is a weight pulling me and Sam under. Then again, awareness of time is always excruciating.

  I run one finger over her cheek. “Can you escape your parents later?”

  “Yeah. They’re heading back to Santa Cruz after the party. You?”

  “Booked them all in a hotel. Because I’m a genius.”

  She takes my hand. “Well, then let’s get back to the party. I promised Angel you would dance with her at least once before we leave.”

  But on our way in, Mom waylays me in the living room.

  “I was hoping to talk to you.” She has to look up at me when we’re face to face. Strange that there was a time when the reverse was true.

  “I’ll be in the backyard,” Sam says, giving us privacy.

  Not sure I want it, but looks like I’m getting it anyway.

  “What’s up?” I put my hands on Mom’s shoulders and give them a squeeze.

  She looks down, but not before I see the sadness in her eyes. My gut clenches.

  “I wanted to know how you’re doing. If you’re okay.”

  “I talked to you last week,” I say, my tone defensive.

  “For five minutes.”

  I want to raise my voice, but I know that’s the guilt talking. I force mys
elf to calm down.

  “I’ve been really busy, Mom. You know that.”

  “I could let that lie pass, but I don’t want to. We’ve barely spoken in the last four months. And I want to know what I did.”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  Mom plops down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

  I’ve disappointed her, and that kills me. All my life, I’ve just wanted to be good enough for her. But I spent so long trying to live up to my parents’ expectations that I forgot to define my own. I want to live on my own terms now, and Mom’s manipulation makes me angry.

  If she wants the truth, I owe it to her.

  “That right there.” I point to her. “What you’re doing now. That’s why I haven’t called.”

  Her head turns sharply and her shoulders square up. “What?”

  “The guilt. It’s constant and never-ending. Why would I call?”

  Her eyes are wide. “I don’t guilt you.”

  I laugh. “Are you serious?”

  “So I’m the bad guy here? Just because I want you to be a good person?”

  My teeth are clenching so hard, my jaw aches. “I am a good person. I’m sorry if you don’t agree.”

  She stands up, her blond hair swinging around her shoulders. “How can you say that? I have always been proud of you.”

  “Only when I do what you and Dad want me to. If not, you shove your disappointment at me until I fall in line. It’s making me crazy.”

  Lizzie pokes her head in. When she hears my raised voice, she freezes and backs out of the room. But not before giving me a comforting nod, which makes me feel guilty for laughing earlier.

  “You’re talking about the baby. How we tried to pressure you into marrying Lacey even after . . .” Mom’s voice drops to a pained whisper.

  “Yes.”

  She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “When she got pregnant, I was so scared for you—for your future. But then you said you wanted to marry her.”

  “Only because of the baby.”

  “I know. But when she miscarried, I wanted there to be something left. Something good.”

  Mom’s eyes are shining, and I know she’s hurting for me—just like the time I was twelve, and I was so sick I was hallucinating. So hard to stay mad at the woman who raised you.

  I pull her into my side. “I get it, Mom. But those choices have to be my own.”

  She nods but stays silent.

  “And you have to stop meddling in my love life.”

  “You have a lot to offer the right girl.”

  “But it’s up to me to decide who that girl is. So stop pushing. Stop calling your friends.”

  Mom’s face tenses. “I’ll try.”

  I’ve seen that look a hundred times, always when she’s forced to agree to something she’s not happy about. I thought my stubbornness came from Dad, but I might have been wrong about that.

  “Don’t be mad, old lady,” I tease.

  “Young enough to take you on,” she says without missing a beat.

  I fold her into a hug, and she squeezes me extra tight. Her arms are strong for such a slim woman.

  “I’ve missed you. You’re my first born,” she says, as though that explains it. Someday I might understand what she means.

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Right. You’ve been too busy with Sam to miss anyone. You going to be okay when she leaves?”

  I throw my hands up. “Didn’t we just talk about this?”

  “I only asked a question.”

  I see where Lizzie learned her innocent doe-eyed act.

  “Well, if you have to know, I’m going to miss the hell out of her.”

  Mom runs one hand over my hair, like she used to do when I was little. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it? No advice?”

  She laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it.”

  Mom and Dad are slow dancing, perfectly in rhythm after so many years of practice.

  “Don’t see that often,” Lizzie says, sidling up next to me on the back patio.

  She’s right. Mom and Dad’s relationship always seemed messy. Lots of fighting and griping. One time, Mom even left for a few days. She told us it was because she was helping out a friend, but we knew she needed the break from Dad. But out on the dance floor, they’re in sync.

  I take a sip of my beer. “Nope. But it’s nice.”

  “They’re still crazy about each other. After all this time.”

  I study Dad’s face as he looks at Mom. The way he strokes her back. I can’t see Mom, but her arms are thrown around Dad’s neck, her body pressed to his.

  “Yeah. They are.”

  Lizzie and I drink in silence.

  “Hey, what did Dad mean about having an understanding with Jude?”

  I turn to her. “I think you know, baby girl.”

  “He told Dad that he’s going to marry me, didn’t he?” Lizzie looks like she’s having trouble catching her breath.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  She exhales. “No. But I thought maybe someday. Years from now. For him to already have talked to Dad? That’s crazy. I’m only twenty-three.”

  “He is crazy. About you. And he’ll wait. As long as you need him to. Look at the poor bastard.” I point my bottle in Jude’s direction.

  He’s talking to Sam’s mom, but his eyes keep darting to Lizzie.

  She laughs. “Always so intense, that one.”

  “You picked him, not me.”

  When Lizzie catches Jude’s eye, he goes still and his mouth lifts at the corners, like he just received good news.

  “And I’m so lucky I did. It’s what most people dream about.” She turns her gaze toward Sam, who’s dancing with her dad. “I’d be a fool to let that go. It’s a gift, having someone love you. Loving them in return.” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with challenge.

  “You sound like Mom. It’s bad enough having her lecture me.”

  “Is that what you were fighting about?”

  “Basically.” I lean against the deck railing.

  “Well, she may be too hard on you, but she means well. She wants you to find someone to love.”

  “Love isn’t always enough, Lizzie.”

  “But it can be.” She puts one hand on my forearm and squeezes. “Love is a gift, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work for it.”

  She leaves me and heads to Jude, drawn to him by something invisible but real.

  I look at Sam again. The way she smiles at her dad as they dance—appreciative of him despite their differences. She looks up at his face, and the white lights strung throughout the garden reflect on her skin. Her love for him is clear. And I recognize that smile, because it’s the same one she uses with me.

  The force of this moment is so powerful that my legs go out from under me, and I collapse into a deck chair.

  I sit and watch Sam until she finally comes over and asks me to dance. I still can’t speak, so I hold my hand out instead and she takes it. It’s warm and soft and real. Dancing with her is almost painful because it’s too much, and I know all this—feeling—will only be eased if I can be next to her.

  Which ends up being true. I waste no time at my house removing the barriers between us. Feeling her heartbeat against mine—seconds and minutes ticking away.

  “Look at me,” I say as I enter her, warmth encasing me.

  She does as I ask, her eyes trusting and wide open.

  “I want more time.”

  “Oh, don’t, please,” she says, but she doesn’t let go of me as I thrust.

  I might be breaking her trust, but I can’t help it. The desperation is clawing me from the inside out.

  “I know you can’t stay. But until you leave, let me be with you.”

  “You promised.” Tears pool in her eyes, but her legs stay wrapped around me. She holds me closer. Loves me harder.

  “Please, Samantha.”

  She captures my mouth, swallowing what I wo
uld have said next. That’s okay; maybe this way the words will live inside her.

  Our bodies take precedence over our battle, and we shatter together, the world going white.

  Her hands push at me, so I roll to the side.

  She turns on her side, away from me. “You bastard.”

  “Why shouldn’t we use every minute we have?” I put my hand on her shoulder, but she stiffens under my touch.

  “So I can spend the first months of my new life fixating on you? Or worse yet, get desperate enough to try a long-distance thing and then watch it die slowly? I was ready to give up my dream once before. I’m not doing that again.”

  Anger burns through me, and it’s not an emotion I’m all that familiar or comfortable with. I turn her toward me.

  “So I was a pit stop along the way?”

  She throws her hands up. “You were the one who suggested this whole stupid idea. Ninety days, no pressure.”

  “I know, because I was an idiot. But things have changed. Don’t I matter to you?”

  Fury seeps into her expression. “Obviously. That’s why I would never ask you to do something that would make you miserable just to make myself happy for another month or two.”

  She gets up and slips her dress on, practically tearing the strap as she rushes—eager to get away from me. She has a right to her anger.

  “I thought it would make both of us happy. To have more time together.”

  She whips around. “That’s just more time for my heart to get broken.”

  I hang my head, because she’s right. I made her a promise. No extensions. No falling in love.

  Sam scrubs at her face, roughly brushing away tears she’s embarrassed to be shedding. Then she bolts down the ladder.

  I get out of bed and throw on my shorts, hurrying to catch her. I grab her arm as she throws open the front door.

  “Hey. Don’t leave it like this. Please.”

  She bites her lip, still trying to delay the emotion. She nods, so I pull her into a tight hug.

  “Have a great life in LA,” I say, kissing her on top of her head. And now it’s me that’s holding everything in—holding myself together.

  And then she’s gone. I leave the door open, imagining I can see her even after I can’t, letting the night air swallow me.

  Chapter 25: Sam