Between Here and Forever - Elizabeth Scott [8]
“So, who gets it?” Eli says, looking at the nurse and then at me. “I gotta get back down to the gift shop. Nobody else is there today.”
I point at the nurse and go back to Tess.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll—” What? I have no idea how to approach him. I don’t approach anyone.
But this is for Tess. For Tess to wake up.
“I’m going now, but I—I’m going to get Eli for you, okay?” I say. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I pretend her mouth curves up into a smile. I pretend she can hear me. I take the copy of Sassy You the nurse swore Mrs. Johnson wanted from where it lies unopened on the stack of magazines the nurses “read” to Mrs. Johnson by standing there and reading the magazines themselves, and shove it in the trash.
“Sorry you had to see that thing,” I tell her. “And, hey, I’m going to get Tess to wake up. She has to, you know. Otherwise …” I trail off.
Otherwise this is Tess’s future. A long, slow decline. A lifetime without life.
A lifetime of me tied here, because if Tess doesn’t get better, my parents will give up everything to keep her alive and end up with nothing. I will have to stay and help them, be the rock they can lean on. I will sink into Ferrisville, and I will decline too. I will have a lifetime without a life, and I don’t want that.
I know it’s selfish. I know a better person, a better daughter, wouldn’t think like that. Tess wouldn’t think like that.
But I’m not Tess. And the last thing I want is a life in which I do nothing but prove that over and over and over again.
eight
Eli is in the gift shop. I figure he’ll be talking to a bunch of girls or admiring his reflection or whatever it is gorgeous people do when they are at work. Tess got a job at a grocery store in Milford the summer before she went to college, but really all she did was spend day after day talking to guys who’d trail around Organic Gourmet after her.
Eli isn’t talking to anyone, and he isn’t looking at himself either. He’s sorting through a bunch of magazines, tapping his fingers against each one and making faces at the headlines. He even scowls gorgeously.
I should probably be nervous about talking to him, but a lifetime of watching guys stumble over themselves to say “Hi” to Tess has made me realize how stupid that is. Acting like you’re not good enough to talk to someone usually means they decide you aren’t good enough to talk to them. Also, Eli isn’t for me, he’s for Tess. I’m just making sure they meet.
“I’m sure she’ll be better soon,” I tell him, pointing at the blond stick on the cover of the magazine he’s looking at. “They say the sixth time in rehab’s the charm.”
“What?” he says, and then looks at me. “Oh. You’re the girl who—”
“Has the beautiful sister,” I say, just because I know how his sentence will end. It’s how it always ends. “Can I get a copy of that?”
“You want a copy of this?”
I don’t. I’d sooner poke a stick in my eye than read inspirational tales about how some girl has made a fortune selling T-shirts, never mind that one of her parents is always a designer or hip New York store owner, or look at pictures of raccoon-eyed models posing in clothes no one I know can wear. Or afford.
But what I say is, “Yeah.”
He gets up and hands me one, all fluid motion and dark honey-colored skin. I am acutely aware of my shortness, lack of curves, and general blahness.
“Are you sure you want it?” he says. “I saw you make a face when I brought it up for Mrs. Johnson, and you don’t look like the kind of person who”—he glances at the cover—“cares about the new and best sunless tanners.”
Of course not. I look like me, and the way he so easily dismisses me stings a little, but I square my shoulders, dig some money out of my bag, and slap it on the counter.
While he’s making change, I look at the candy. Someone’s gone through and—I swear, I think it’s been organized by bar size and wrapper color. Bizarre.
“Here you go,” he says, handing me my change. “Enjoy your magazine.”
I roll my eyes before I remember I’m supposed to want the thing and he grins at me, perfect-shaped mouth showing perfect