“My dad and I helped him move into the dorms.” Almost reluctantly he added, “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure,” I said.
“So Laurel’s cool with it?”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” I lied. “I’m glad I could come.”
I used to look forward to seeing Conrad all year. I used to wish for summer the way kids wished for Christmas. It was all I thought about. Even now, even after everything, he was still all I thought about.
Later I turned on the radio to fill the silence between Jeremiah and me.
Once I thought I heard him start to say something, and I said, “Did you just say something?”
He said, “Nope.”
For a while we just drove. Jeremiah and me were twopeople who never ran out of things to say to each other, but there we were, not saying a word.
Finally he said, “I saw Nona last week. I stopped by the retirement home she’s been working at.”
Nona was Susannah’s hospice nurse. I’d met her a few times. She was funny, and strong. Nona was slight, maybe five foot two with spindly arms and legs, but I’d seen her haul up Susannah like she weighed nothing. Which, toward the end, I guess she very nearly did.
chapterten
When Susannah got really sick again, no one told me right away. Not Conrad, or my mother, or Susannah herself. It all happened so fast.
I tried getting out of going to see Susannah that last time. I told my mother I had a trig exam that counted for a quarter of my grade. I would have said anything to get out of going. “I’m going to have to study all weekend. I can’t come. Maybe next weekend,” I said over the phone. I tried to make my voice casual and not desperate. “Okay?”
Immediately she said, “No. Not okay. You’re coming up this weekend. Susannah wants to see you.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Her voice was razor sharp. “I already bought your train ticket. See you tomorrow.”
On the train ride up, I worked hard to come up with things I could say when I saw Susannah. I would tell her about how hard trig was, how Taylor was in love, how I was thinking of running for class secretary, which was a lie. I wasn’t going to run for class secretary, but I knew that Susannah would like the sound of it. I would tell her all of those things, and I would not ask about Conrad.
My mother picked me up at the train station. When I got into the car, she said, “I’m glad you came.”
She went on to say, “Don’t worry, Conrad’s not here.”
I didn’t answer her, I just stared out the window. I was unjustifiably mad at her for making me come. Not that she cared. She kept right on talking. “I’m going to go ahead and warn you that she doesn’t look good. She’s tired. She’s very tired, but she’s excited to see you.”
As soon as she said the words, “she doesn’t look good,” I closed my eyes. I hated myself for being afraid to see her, for not visiting more often. But I wasn’t like my mother, as strong and durable as steel. Seeing Susannah like that, it was too hard. It felt like pieces of her, of who she used to be, crumpled away every time. Seeing her like that made it real.
When we pulled into the driveway, Nona was outside smoking a cigarette. I’d met Nona a couple of weeks before, when Susannah first moved back home. Nona had a very intimidating handshake. When we stepped out ofthe car, she was Purelling her hands and spraying Febreze on her uniform like she was a teenager smoking in secret, even though Susannah didn’t mind it; she loved cigarettes once in a while but couldn’t smoke them anymore. Just pot, just once in a while.
“Morning,” Nona called out, waving to us.
“Morning,” we called back.
She was sitting on the front porch. “Nice to see you,” she said to me. To my mother, she said, “Susannah’s all dressed and waiting for you two downstairs.”
My mother sat down next to Nona. “Belly, you go on in first. I’m going to chat with Nona.” And by “chat,” I knew she meant she too was going to have a cigarette. She and Nona had gotten to be pretty friendly.
Nona was pragmatic and also intensely spiritual. She invited my mother to go to church with her once, and even though my mother was not religious in the least, she went. At first I thought it was just to humor Nona, but then when she started going to church alone back home, I realized it was more than that. She was looking for some kind of peace.
I said, “By myself?” and I regretted it right away. I didn’t want either of them to judge me for being afraid. I was already judging myself.
“She’s waiting for you,” my mother said.
