Because I remembered. I remembered everything.
chapterforty-one
When Conrad left to take his exam, Jeremiah and I bought turkey and avocado sandwiches on whole wheat bread and we ate them out on the lawn. I finished mine first; I was really hungry.
When he was done, Jeremiah balled up the foil in his hand and threw it into the trashcan. He sat back down next to me in the grass. Out of nowhere, he said to me, “Why didn’t you come see me after my mom died?”
I stuttered, “I d-d-did, I came to the funeral.”
Jeremiah’s gaze on me was steady, unblinking. “That’s not what I mean.”
“I—I didn’t think you’d want me there yet.”
“No, it was becauseyoudidn’t want to be there. I wanted you there.”
He was right. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want tobe anywhere near her house. Thinking about her made my heart hurt; it was too much. But the thought of Jeremiah waiting for me to call him, needing someone to talk to, that hurt so bad. “You’re right,” I told him. “I should’ve come.”
Jeremiah had been there for Conrad, for Susannah. For me. And who had been there for him? Nobody. I wanted him to know I was here now.
He looked up at the sky. “It’s hard, you know? Because I want to talk about her. But Conrad doesn’t want to, and I can’t talk to my dad, and you weren’t there either. We all love her, and nobody can talk about her.”
“What do you want to say?”
He leaned his head back, thinking. “That I miss her. I really miss her. She’s only been gone for two months, but it feels like longer. And it also feels like it just happened, like yesterday.”
I nodded. That was exactly how it felt.
“Do you think she’d be glad?”
He meant glad about Conrad, the way we’d helped him. “Yeah.”
“Me too.” Jeremiah hesitated. “So what now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you going to come back this summer?”
“Well, sure. When my mom comes, I’ll come too.”
He nodded. “Good. Because my dad was wrong, you know. It’s your house too. And Laure’s, and Steve’s. It’s all of ours.”
Suddenly I was struck with the strangest sensation, of wanting, needing, to reach out and touch his cheek with the back of my hand. So he would know, so he wouldfeelexactly how much those words meant to me. Because sometimes words were so pitifully inadequate, and I knew that, but I had to try anyway. I told him, “Thank you. That means—a lot.”
He shrugged. “It’s just the truth.”
We saw him coming from far away, walking fast. We stood up and waited for him.
Jeremiah said, “Does it look like good news to you? It looks like good news to me.”
It did to me, too.
Conrad strode up to us, his eyes gleaming. “I killed it,” he said triumphantly. First time I’d seen him smile, really smile—joyful, carefree—since Susannah died. He and Jeremiah high-fived so hard the clap rang out in the air. And then Conrad smiled at me, and whirled me around so fast I almost tripped.
I was laughing. “See? See? I told you!”
Conrad picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, just like he had the other night. I laughed as he ran, weaving left and right like he was on a football field. “Put me down!” I shrieked, yanking at the bottom of my dress.
He did. He set me down on the ground gently. “Thanks,” he said, his hand still on my waist. “For coming.”
