Page 25 of Just One Look
One of them, now, breaking out, running down the left sideline. Sprinting, more like. Somebody came at him, but he stiff-armed the other man in the chest so he bounced off, then kept on going.
It was Luka, and this was rugby. A close-up of his face, a little later on. Black tape around his head, protecting the tips of his ears, she guessed. His jaw unshaven, his mouth open to get more air. His hands laced on top of his head, his deep-set eyes full of intensity, his aggressive nose making its bold statement. He was doing, she had not a doubt in the world, absolutely no favors to that disc, and he looked like he’d forgotten all about it, because he was driven. Because he was focused. Because he was doing what he loved, something almost nobody else in the world could do as well as he could.
Exactly like her.
She didn’t want to watch him. She didn’t want to think about him.
She couldn’t help thinking about him, though, not tonight. Tonight, she had no armor. Because when she was the one on a gurney being wheeled to those doors and into surgery … who would hold her hand? Who would stand up in mingled hope and dread too great to bear when the surgeon came out afterwards?
Who would cry?
* * *
She hadn’t wantedto think about any of this again, but here it was, and there was no escaping it.
She’d been eighteen the first time she’d visited this country, and it had been Christmas. Halfway through her sophomore year at Duke already, and looking forward to going home to Savannah for her break. College could be lonely, and Savannah at Christmas was a magical place. The corridors of ancient oaks, the parklike squares, the City Market with its street entertainers, its food stalls, its trees wrapped in white lights. Even if you were alone, you were with other people, experiencing it all with them. And after Christmas, she could drive up and visit Memaw and her aunts and uncles and cousins for New Year’s.
Her dad wouldn’t want to go. He’d have paid moneynotto go. That was fine, though, because Memaw would want her anyway.
Instead, her father said, when she came home for Thanksgiving, “I bought you tickets for Christmas.”
“Oh? Where are we going?” That was a surprise—a major one, since her dad didn’t exactly do “vacation.” She continued eating her turkey sandwich. The housekeeper had made Thanksgiving dinner, but her dad hadn’t been home to eat it with her. Never mind. She liked leftovers best anyway, and she loved the old house, too, with its brick exterior, its marble fireplaces and hidden courtyard, its nooks and crannies. Having it to herself wasn’t lonely. Having it to herself was normal.
“I’m not going,” he said. “You are. To New Zealand for your Christmas break.”
She set down her sandwich. “You mean … the whole break?” Wait. To NewZealand?Her father and Lauren were divorced! Lauren and Piper had been gone almost a year. Why would she be going to New Zealand?
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be working anyway. Better for you.”
That sensation in the pit of her stomach felt like emptiness, but she couldn’t eat any more of her sandwich. She set it on the plate and said, keeping it as neutral as she could manage, because her father didn’t like much emotion, “But why? I like Christmas. I like Christmashere.I really don’t want to go anywhere else.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he said. “What’s the difference where you spend it? You’ll sit in a corner anyway and read. You’ll want to see Lauren and Piper, though, and the trip will be good for you. It was Lauren’s idea, actually. She said, just because we got divorced, that didn’t mean she was divorcing you. She wants you.”
Elizabeth wanted to say,I won’t go.She wanted to scream it. That wouldn’t work, though, so she chose her words carefully, and she set them down more carefully than that. “Is there some other reason? Do you not want me here? Have I …” Her voice wanted to wobble, but she refused to let it. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No,” he said. “Of course not.” He wouldn’t look at her, though, so clearly, she had.
He’d always said,Face your failings head-on. No good comes from pretending you don’t see them, or pretending other people don’t, either. You should figure they’re always watching, and they’re always judging, too, because that’s what people do. You won’t make that any less true by refusing to acknowledge it, and you won’t fix it by refusing to address it.
She said, “Dad. Tell me. What did I do? What do I …” Now, her voicedidwobble, and her throat was so dry, it felt like she’d swallowed sand. “What do I need to do to improve?” The sentence he liked best to hear.
“You don’t need to improve on this,” he said. “You’re fine. I’ve met somebody, though, and she wants to spend some time together over the holiday, even go away for a few days. Two birds with one stone. You’ll have a real vacation and get to see Lauren and Piper, and I can pursue my own plans and not worry about you.”
“It’s a big house.” She knew it sounded pathetic. She tried hard not to let it be. “I won’t make any noise. I can leave you alone. I just want to …” More wobbles, and some tears had risen, too. “I want to be here. I want to see Memaw, too. I always see her at New Year’s.”
“I’m giving you a treat,” her father said. “What, choosing between New Zealand and the worst part of South Carolina? Who’d make any other choice? Those tickets cost real money, and it’s summer in New Zealand. You’ll have Christmas at the beach.”
She thought,Like I’m going to wear a swimsuit around Perfect Piper, not to mention Perfect Lauren,but instead, she said, “Dad. Really. I don’t want to go.”
He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed it, and she thought,He’s thinking. Good.But when he’d taken a sip from his constant mug of coffee, he said, “Well, you’re going anyway, so find a way to be happy about it. Lauren doesn’t deserve your sour face.”
It had been the worst vacation ever.
Lauren had thrown her arms around her when she’d come out into the arrivals hall at the airport, and that was OK, because Lauren alwayswasnice, even though that was just because she had to be. Teeny-tiny Piper had done the same thing, had hugged her and said, “It’s brilliant that you’re here!” with all her Piper sparkle and all her Piper enthusiasm. A guy walked into a baggage cart turning his head to stare at her, and Piper laughed infectiously—that was one of her talents—tossed back her blonde curls, and said, “Seriously. It’ll be brilliant.”
Both Piper and Lauren had gone out of their way to make it so, too. That was the worst of it. Lauren took them to Northland, where they went for walks in groves of huge kauris full of birdsong and along rocky cliffs with the ocean crashing below, and stayed in rustic beachside cottages called “baches,” where Piper met people at the beach and befriended them instantly in that mysterious way that Elizabeth could never figure out. Young people, fun people, who were camping or backpacking or just hanging out. Piper was invited to barbecues, to picnics, and swept Elizabeth in with her, as generous as she was beautiful. She’d say with a smile, like she was doing the person a huge favor by introducing her, “This is my sister, Elizabeth. Well, my stepsister, but really, my sister. She’s come from the States to stay for Christmas, which is brilliant.” She sparkled and shone and charmed, and Elizabeth felt like the ant at the picnic. Swimming parallel to the shore, carefully close to land and out of any rips, in her long swim shorts made for guys and her tank-style top, until her arms and legs ached and shook, to delay the time when she’d have to wade ashore and try to fit in with these people, who laughed at everything, drank beer like water, and took life one carefree day at a time.
She wasn’t just a different nationality. She was a differentspecies.
She was just fine at home. She knew how to deal at home. She was introverted! It was a thing! She was introverted, and studious, and driven. And, yes, she had friends. She hadplentyof friends—well, four friends at college, but four was a lot. Four and a half, because she was getting to know her roommate’s boyfriend pretty well, too. Friends who were kind and never criticized, even though she was two years younger and shy, like somebody who’d skipped first grade and senior year and had always been the youngest and the smartest, or just the freak. They didn’t care, though, because they were also introverted and studious and driven, and they liked her for being smart and sometimes even funny, the same way they were smart and funny. They liked going to movies and reading books and discussing them, taking long walks or bike rides together and talking about life, about careers, about the state of the world, about the future, playing board games and eating pizza on Saturday night, staying up so late that you ended up falling over laughing at two in the morning, when you were so tired, you were punchy with it.
She had everything she needed, in fact: good friends, a good life, and a serious plan. She just didn’t have whatever it was that made you bubbly and pretty and instantly popular, that made you not be self-conscious when you met new people, and when she was with Piper, she knew it every single minute. She knew it all the way into her pores. All the way into herbones.
And on the seventh day, they met Luka.
