Between Here and Forever - Elizabeth Scott [46]
“Abby, I don’t know if you’ve really thought about what we’ve told you about Tess,” Mom says. “There’s a chance she could come back, but it’s small, and her brain is—there’s been damage. If Tess does wake up, she won’t be the same.”
“She’ll still be Tess,” I say. “She’ll still be your daughter, won’t she?”
I grab another box and take it upstairs. Mom and Dad don’t follow and when I look out at them from the upstairs hallway window they are talking, Dad’s bright hair shining like Tess’s.
At least they’re talking again. They don’t look happy, though.
I wish Tess was here. She’d know how to get Mom and Dad inside. What to say to turn them toward her and away from those last boxes.
I can’t do it, though. I just watch them and wish I could make everything better. I thought I could but now—
Now I’m not so sure.
thirty-one
I actually go home after school the next day. After last night, with Beth and my parents’ reaction to her, and what they said to me, I’m not sure visiting Tess will do any good.
I don’t think I’m reaching her.
I’m not sure I ever did.
I’m also not sure I should see Eli anymore. I’m starting to get ideas—I’m starting to wish, to want—and I don’t need that.
I figure I’ll spend the afternoon watching television, but as I’m walking home, everyone I pass—the mailman shoving an envelope labeled DO NOT BEND into a mailbox, the woman who used to be the office manager at the plant before she retired and Mom got the job, and two no-longer-little kids Tess used to babysit—ask about her.
They all tell me they’re thinking about her. That they miss her. That nothing’s the same without her smiling face, or “sparkling” eyes, or that she made the best hot chocolate.
I go home, but only to grab money for the ferry. Tess is everywhere and always will be, so why fight it?
I get to the hospital later than usual, of course. I figure Eli will be gone, but instead he’s sitting by the bike rack, fingers twitching away on his crossed legs.
“Hey,” I say as I pull up to him. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was waiting inside but I—” He points at his hands. “Bad day, with the tapping and stuff, and there was a little kid waiting to see someone and he kept asking me what I was doing and then copying me and—anyway.”
He carefully stills his hands, awkwardly forcing them to lie flat. “I also thought—I thought maybe you might not want to see me after I … after I told you all that stuff,” he says.
“I thought about not coming,” I say, and he braces his hands on his knees so hard I can see the tension in them. “But not because of you. I … my parents said some stuff last night about Tess. About how—they say she’ll never be the same, that her brain is … she won’t ever be the same.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Are you—are you all right?” he says, and when he does, all the reminders I’ve chanted to myself, all the things I’ve sworn I won’t forget, they’re gone. Just like that. Just because of him.
“I’m okay,” I manage to say, and try not to watch him as he gets up.
I do, though, and I’m glad he has to walk a little behind me as we go inside the hospital. It gives me a chance to pull myself together. Or at least pretend I have, because then we get on the elevator and it’s crowded and he’s right next to me and he smells good, like sunshine and laundry detergent and something else, something that’s just him, and I know all about pheromones but never believed in them until now.
Clement gets on at the floor before Tess’s and says, “And how are you today?” to me.
“All right,” I say, and he glances at Eli. “So, am I allowed to say I’m your grandfather now?”
Eli blushes and folds his arms across his chest. “I never said—” He breaks off, his fingers starting to tap.
Clement looks stricken and then whispers to Eli. I try to pretend I can’t hear what they’re saying but the elevator is small and Clement isn’t exactly quiet.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” he says. “I know you didn’t say I shouldn’t talk to your father, but I assumed it’s because of how your father talks about me and—”
“It’s fine,” Eli says. “I just—my parents