Days Like This Page 15

  “It was a whirlwind for us, Cassie,” she said. “I changed my whole life for him. It’s how I got so involved with the band. It’s why your name is what it is. They united us—their music. It was hard, but we made it work. He toured with them and I went along my own path. Eight years we did that, until we were married in 1985. We bought the house here, a neutral place away from everything, and we carried on.”

  I could tell that she was remembering from her slight smile, a furrowed brow. I’d seen it enough times to know.

  “Things were never great with us after we married,” she said. Her voice changed, her shoulders dropped and she averted her gaze. “Travel’s hard on a marriage. We would go months without seeing each other—me with my bands, him with whatever gig he could find. I ended up pregnant, and we weren’t trying. We’d never even talked about kids, not with our lives, but there you were,” she smiled at me, but I could see a little sadness in her eyes. “I decided to take a break until you were a few months old, so I passed on my bands to some co-workers and moved into our house. You have his eyes, you know.”

  I knew. I’d seen pictures. Mom’s chestnut hair and Dad’s cobalt eyes. I got the best of both of them.

  Mom looked from Dr. Lambert to me and back again at Dr. Lambert. “He was never there. And when he was there, we fought. A lot. I had post-partum—that’s when it all started and we didn’t know—but he didn’t understand. I couldn’t take care of you like I needed and one day, when you were two, he said he was leaving. That was the last time I ever heard from him, except for the divorce papers.”

  I let out a breath. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

  She reached for my hand. I gave it to her. “I didn’t want you to think it was you. Richard was a good man, Cassie, but we lived a hard life. He had a passion. I had a passion. You know how you feel about Graham? I don’t think he ever felt that for me, nor I for him. That was music for us.”

  “And you gave it up for me,” I said.

  Mom squeezed my hand. “It was the best decision for you. I love you. You needed a mother. I’m sorry I failed at it.”

  “You didn’t fail.”

  “I did,” she said with a smile. “But I tried.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “It isn’t yours either,” she said.

  I scooted closer to her. “You told me that night he left because he couldn’t handle your episodes.”

  She sighed. “I have no doubt that influenced his decision. It’s hard to watch the person you love be lost. You’ve experienced that; not everyone is as strong as you. But Richard had a void that only music could fill. I knew that from the beginning, but I thought I would be enough like he was for me. Or like I told myself he was for me.”

  “That’s why I left Graham.”

  Mom touched my face. “Why?”

  I felt myself breaking around her. “Because I didn’t want him to be stuck with me in case I was like you. I didn’t think he could handle it.”

  “Graham? Oh, honey. That boy can handle anything,” Mom said.

  “I didn’t want him to have to handle me. That’s not a relationship.”

  Neither of us said anything, but I felt connected to my mom for the first time as we sat there and she stroked my hand. More than I ever had.

  “Cassie, I think there’s another reason that you don’t even want to admit to yourself. Something holding you back, and it’s not that you’re not sick, Cassie.” Dr. Lambert said. I shook my head. There was no other reason. “You said you were jealous that your mom knew what she wanted and that she could get it now. What do you want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do,” Dr. Lambert said, nodding toward me.

  Right. I’d said that before, too.

  “To not be like you,” I said to Mom. I expected her to be upset, but she wasn’t. Instead, she patted my hand with hers.

  “What, specifically?” Dr. Lambert asked.

  “Alone.”

  “Why do you think you’re alone?”

  I paused. It was harder to say it than I could admit. The words were stuck in my throat. “Because you were right and June was right—I kept everyone out. I pushed them all away to protect them, but really I was protecting myself.”

  “From what?” Dr. Lambert asked.

  “From everything,” I admitted.

  Mom hugged me, and for the first time in all my life, I felt like she was my mom. Mom, instead of the person I was taking care of. Like it was for me, and not for her or for show, and tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to contain it, but I wanted to sob and never stop.

  “Oh, Cassie,” she whispered in my ear. “Your father had a mantra that he said every morning, ‘You can’t live your life in fear of what could be—if you do you’ll never live it.’”

  “Dad used to say that?”

  She nodded. “Every day.”

  Graham told me that, too. Maybe it was a famous quote or something.

  38.

  Graham

  MOLLY SIGHED NEXT to me and ran her fingers down my back as I rolled off her. She pressed her lips against my neck, and laughed lightly. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

  I smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

  “That’s not entirely my fault,” she said.

  I didn’t miss the tone in her voice. I’d been avoiding her for the last few days. There was a lot going on, and I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to do with my Cassie feelings, especially after June confronted me. I hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Not that I could tell Molly any of that. No sense in stirring up trouble. I kissed Molly’s shoulder, and she squealed and pulled me into her, pressing her mouth against mine.

  Her hands ran through my hair as I kissed her. When we needed to stop for breath, she muttered something about going to sleep. Sleep would be good. Her hand fell away from me, and I turned onto my side. A contented hum filled the room, and she grew still next to me. I was drifting off to sleep, but June’s voice played in my head.

  “A guy who’s trying really hard to ignore the fact that he’s obviously in love with his old fiancée. A guy who’s really scared right now, almost as much as that girl he’s trying not to love. Have you ever asked her why she left?”

  Why hadn’t I asked Cass about leaving? I should do that. If June was right, I should find out. Maybe tomorrow. I couldn’t wait any longer. She was right there, and I’d been waiting almost a year. Maybe there was a reason. I needed to find it. To not be a pussy. I’d ask her and then I could put it all behind me. Cass and me could be a memory, finally.

  “Night,” she muttered.

  “Night, Cass,” I said.

  This is nice. Silent and calm and warm. My eyes started to drift and she shifted on the bed and inhaled sharply. I turned around see what was wrong, and she was sitting up, frowning.

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “You called me ‘Cass’?” Her voice was high and she tightened the sheets up around her chest.

  I scrambled up. “No, no I didn’t do that.”

  She scoffed, jumping off the bed. “Yes, you did.”

  I didn’t say her name. Why would I say her name? I tried to think to three seconds ago. In my silence, Molly rushed around the room, grabbing her clothes. I jumped out of the bed, too.

  “Molly, I wasn’t even thinking about her. I’m tired, that’s all,” I said. Which was obviously a lie. Shit. She slid on her jeans, and glared at me. “I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t even realize I said that.”

  She put her shirt over her head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You haven’t been the same since she returned. I should’ve known.”

  “Molly,” I begged.

  She shook her head. “I’m going home.”

  The door slammed behind her.

  39.

  Cassie

  JUNE WAS SPRAWLED out across the backseat of the car with her head on one side and her feet on
the other. Mom was next to me, smiling and singing along to the playlist that she helped me create. I even put a few tracks from some of June’s music—bands I’d never heard of because I was, indeed, a music snob. I was missing out on something good because I hadn’t tried to find it.

  “This is my jam, Cassie—turn it up!” June yelled from the backseat.

  “Who’s this again?” I asked as the music started up. It wasn’t a bad intro.

  “The Lone Bellow. They are going to be big, girl. Mark my words.”

  Music mingled in the wind as we sped across the interstate toward the beach. June sang off-key, and Mom smiled the whole time. Enjoyed the moment.

  I kept looking over at her as we drove, waiting for something to change. For her smile to slip or her eyes to look at me and not see me, but that didn’t happen for the whole drive. It wasn’t much time, but I’d take it.

  This wasn’t a pretty day. It was just a day.

  A summer day at the beach with my mom and my best friend. It was almost like I was normal.

  40.

  Graham

  I SAT INSIDE my apartment and stared at my phone. Molly would call me back. She had to call me back so we could talk. I’d left her three messages since last night, but I wanted to explain. I wasn’t sure what I would say. I’d made a mess of things, but I didn’t want her to hate me.

  I dialed her number again. If she didn’t answer this time I’d go to her work. I’d stop by her aunt’s house. Something.

  Three rings, and she picked up.

  “What do you want?” Her voice was sharp. She was angry. She had every right to be.

  “Please let me explain, Molly.”

  “I don’t want your excuses. Please stop calling me.”

  “Ten minutes, Molly. Please give me ten minutes. I don’t want to do this on the phone.”

  She was quiet, and I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. Then: “I get off at eleven.”

  I exhaled into the phone. “Thank you, Molly. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Ten minutes—that’s all you get.”

  Then, she hung up.

  41.

  Cassie

  JUNE SPENT MOST of her time in the water, while Mom slept on the beach. June had never been to the Atlantic, and this was different water. That’s what she kept saying; whether different was better or worse she never said. While she was in the ocean, I was sprawled out on the sand. I couldn’t stop listening to these new bands—in the four hours we’d been there, I’d listened to three albums completely through and took some notes in my notebook. There were a couple songs I loved, a couple that I thought I could’ve been arranged differently to bring out some of the uniqueness, and only one or two that fell short. Overall, it was good, and it was from this century.

  June plopped down next to me and snatched an earbud from my ear. I smiled, and when a few lyrics passed June sat up on her knees. “Is Cassie Harlen listening to my music? The world is ending!”

  “It’s good.”

  She threw her arms over her head. “The sky is going to fall!”

  I pushed her and she laughed. “Seriously.”

  “Have you tried Rohan again?”

  “Whoa, hello one-eighty,” I said, pausing the song so I wouldn’t miss anything.

  “New music, old musician boyfriend—it totally transitions.”

  I shrugged. Rohan was still in the “unfinished” column. “I’ve called him twice. I left a message last time.”

  “Third time’s a charm, right?” June said.

  “You’re pushy.”

  “That’s what good friends are for!”

  June lay on her back, dripping some water from her hair onto my journal. I moved it before she completely ruined it.

  “I thought good friends were for support and encouragement?”

  “They are. How do you think they do that?” June definitely had the pushy down.

  We didn’t move while the sound of the waves and kids nearby and my mom snoring filled the air. It was busy enough to feel alone and lost in the noise. Everyone scattering in his or her own path and not looking back. Even the wind had a direction, and I was stuck.

  Stuck unmoving // Destiny looming

  I closed the journal.

  “So what’s up with your sister?” I asked, looking at June. She adjusted her sunglasses, and let out a sigh. “How long are you going?”

  “I don’t know. Until school maybe? I haven’t thought about it.”

  I couldn’t see her face well, but her tone changed. There was something about LA and her sister that she didn’t want to talk about. I started to ask when Mom popped up next to us abruptly.

  “We should go,” Mom said, stretching. “I want to make a stop.”

  THE OLD STRIP of pink, blue and orange stores used to sit on the right side of the highway off exit sixty-seven, that’s why we would always go before home. The stores were no longer colored—no longer this magical place over the rainbow. They were an industrial shade of metal. Mom frowned and deep lines appeared on her forehead.

  “What’s this place?” June asked.

  Nothing anymore.

  “Cassie and I used to come here when she was a kid,” Mom said.

  “It was better then,” I added.

  “What is it?” June asked.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt, but Mom grabbed my arm and shook her head. “A memory that I’d like to keep as it was,” she said. I looked back at the building. Mom was right. Even if this place only mattered because it was Pretty Day, it still mattered. It was as deeply a part of me and us as the bad ones.

  Some things were better off left in the past where they couldn’t be touched or changed. Others were full of promise.

  “We should go,” she said.

  I couldn’t agree more. I put on another one of June’s albums, and we left.

  42.

  Graham

  I WAS ALREADY at the door when Molly came to it. Her blonde hair was curled, and I always liked that. She looked less than happy to see me. I had some major damage to repair here, if I could even do that. Molly crossed her arms over her chest as she approached me.

  “Hey,” I said. I opened the door a crack to let her come in. She hesitated at first, but then she went past me up the stairs.

  Molly was in my living room, unmoving, while we stared at each other. I tried to hug her, but she took a step back from me. “I don’t really know why I’m here,” she said.

  I reached out for her hand, but she wouldn’t let me touch her. She even took another step back. I really messed this up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You have to know I didn’t mean it.”

  “I don’t know that,” she said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve been different since she came back.”

  “There’s nothing between her and me.”

  “You called me her name last night!” Molly yelled. Her eyes were glassy and I really didn’t want her to cry. “What do I do with that?”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets.

  She shook her head. “What is it about her? You need to tell me. I deserve to know.”

  I didn’t want to tell her. What could I say? She was Cassie. We had a history, an unfinished history, a relationship with no answers, an appeal and connection I couldn’t explain. She wouldn’t like any of that. How could I tell Molly what Cassie and I had been and not lose her? She shook her head and walked toward the door.

  “Wait—” I yelled. She turned around to me. “She was the first girl I loved. I met her when I was nine.” Molly’s eyes widened, like she waiting for more. “This will take longer than ten minutes.”

  She sat on the couch across from me and I told her the whole story. All the details I’d never shared before. That Cassie and I had such a long history. That I held her up and let her guide me and planned to spend my life with her. That she left me and even after I went to get her back, she refused me.

  When the story was done, Molly was quiet.

  “Do y
ou still love her?” she asked.

  I didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s probably the first honest thing you’ve said in months.”

  Was it? I really meant what I’d said. I never meant to lie to her. I wasn’t with Cassie, but I did wonder. I wondered a lot of things—why she left, what I meant to her, what she wanted, what I wanted. Was all that because I still loved her?

  Molly stood up without another word. I jumped up too.

  “Don’t leave,” I said.

  “I need to figure this out,” she said, putting her palm up at me. She moved toward the door and I didn’t stop her. I knew I didn’t have the right to ask her to stay. Not when I didn’t know what I wanted, or when I did know what I wanted and it wasn’t something I’d sworn I was over. Either way, she left.

  43.

  Cassie

  I STOOD OUTSIDE on the porch, and Mom and June were inside talking more about June Carter Cash. It seemed like the perfect time to step away. I inhaled and stared at Rohan’s name and picture before I pushed the call button. I needed to start fixing things, and this one seemed a little easier than the one a yard away.

  The phone rang, and rang and rang. I was nervous about what to say to him. He answered with: “I can’t believe you’re calling me.”

  “Yeah, I know it’s random. I just—”

  “I left you messages,” Rohan said. A few of them. All deleted.

  “I didn’t know what to say,” I said. That part was true. Even now, I was a little too nauseous to let my guard down, and I was the one who’d left. Silence echoed on the other end. I could hear him breathe, slightly, and the noise around him. Other voices, clattering.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I was wrong.”

  “I thought you were happy,” he said. His voice was extremely calm. A lot calmer than I’d expected.

  “I don’t think I’d been happy for a year. I loved someone else. Someone who I hurt, and I tried to replace him with you. I’m sorry; that wasn’t fair. I was too scared to leave, to admit what I’d done, and then my mom happened,” I said. It was nice, actually, to say all that out loud. I hadn’t admitted to anyone, barely even to myself, but this was freeing. “I freaked out, Rohan.”