Page 88 of The Last to Let Go
She shrugs. “I have her for the whole summer,” she tells me, a very small smile beginning to emerge. “But this doesn’t mean we can just pick up where we left off, you know.”
“I know,” I tell her. I don’t think we could even if we tried.
I get home from Dani’s that night feeling so full of something—gratitude, maybe? Hope? Or maybe a little bit of both. I open my bedroom window and climb out, making my way up to the roof. I take my phone out of my back pocket.
Looking out over our neighborhood, I realize that this is the last time I’ll ever be up here, the last time I’ll ever see things from this vantage point again. I try to memorize it all. The moon is full and low in the sky and looks so much bigger, so much closer than usual, more gold than silver tonight. And I think about how the moon’s gravity affects the tides of the oceans, pushing and pulling at the water, and I wonder if it has a similar effect on people, too.
I dial his number. It rings and rings—I expected nothing different.
An automated message answers, telling me, in yet one more way, that my brother “is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.”
“Aaron, it’s me. I promise I’m not calling to yell at you. I wanted to say that I’m thinking of you. And also...” I pause—I want to ask him if he’s looking up at the sky like I am right now, but I don’t. “You were right. I have to leave. And I am. I’m moving in with Caroline. Just wanted you to know. I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re doing better now.” I can feel my voice trembling, so I let the rest of the words tumble out quick and messy: “Okay, Aaron. Call me when you can. Love you, bye.”
LETTING GO
I SIT DOWNnext to Callie at one of the old plastic tables outside Jackie’s. She’s reading a book, drinking a smoothie, letting the sun spill over her.
“You’re not working?” she asks, taking note of my regular clothes.
“Not today. Is that the mango one?” I ask her, gesturing to her drink. “It my favorite too.”
She slides it toward me and I take a sip.
“What are you reading?” I ask.
She flips the book over to show me the cover:Little Women. “Getting started on summer reading early—I blame you for that,” she adds, trying not to smile.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I joke. “Hey, can we talk for a sec?”
“Okay,” she answers uncertainly, setting the book facedown on the table.
“You know, Callie...” I take a breath before continuing. “I guess I’ve been realizing that maybe I haven’t really been there for you. I mean, wanting us all to be together isn’t the same thing as us being there for each other. Does that make sense?” I ask. “I think I got confused about what was important.”
She nods. “Yeah, I know.”
“I wanted to tell you, I went to go visit our grandmother—Mom’s mom.”
“What?” Her eyes go wide. “I thought she wasdead.”
“Why did you think that?” I ask, laughing.
“Don’t know. Just assumed, I guess.” She pauses, pondering this new information, then asks, “What’s she like?”
“Um...” I try to figure a way to describe her. “She’s kind of odd, actually. But nice. A good person. We’ve been talking, and I wanted you to know I’m going to move in with her.”
She holds up her hands, as if pushing something invisible away from her.
“No, no, I’m not asking you to go with me. But she wants to meet you.”
She nods, listening more closely.
“You know, she has a pool. Nothers, really, but at her building. It’s very blue. Shaped like an L. It has a diving board. And Caroline—that’s her name—she wants to invite you over to go swimming sometime.”
Now she’s nodding and smiling.
“Sound like fun?”
“Yeah,” she says, and pauses before she continues. “You could finally teach me how to dive.”
