Page 85 of Fade into You
“They make me feel like I’m underwater, and they don’t work very well anyway. I know it looks like I’m not trying, but Jessa, it’s like climbing a rock face with no rope and high heels. I need more to get myself there.”
It’s quiet again. She never talks about this.Wenever talk about this. This is forbidden—taboo to the thousandth degree in our family. And here she is, laying it out like she’s comfortable as hell and I’m the therapist with the big couch.
“What can I do? I’ll do it. Whatever you need. I mean it.”
She shakes her head sadly, and for a second I can see that old protective sister face she’d get when Mom and Dad would fight around us. Right before she’d take me to her room and do my hair while playing Billy Joel or Pink Floyd.
“It’s not something you can do. It’s not something anyone without a lotta years in school can do. There’s programs, I’ve been in some chat forums online when I’m okay. There’s something called cognitive behavioral therapy. There’s new meds, too.”
For a moment, I see this tiny light in her, and I see it coming from me, too. It’s something we haven’t shared in years. This rarity in our existence: hope. And secretly, there’s some hope in me that if I do become her, if I end up on those roller coasters too, there’s something out there that can make it better.
“Okay, we’ll get that, ask Dad and—”
“Mom said no to everything.”
“What?” Rage rushes into me, flushing my cheeks, trembling my hands, buzzing in my mind. Mack could get better. Mack has new ways to get better.
“It’s inpatient, a facility out in freaking Kansas, and she can’t explain it away. I told her to tell everyone I went to college or some college prep experience, but she’s worried….”
“Well, fuck that, what did Dad say?”
“He didn’t. You know he doesn’t go against her.”
“Well, can you check yourself in? I’ll drive you to Kansas. I will leave today if you want. We can get there in a couple days.”
She puts her hand on my arm, like an assurance. Unfortunately, that assurance won’t be worth a thing when she cycles again. Up and down the Mack merry-go-round. I want to get off the ride. I want every day to be today. I want her better.
“Mack, you need this.”
“I can’t afford it, and Mom and Dad aren’t ready yet. Maybe in a while.”
“Do you have a while?”
We finally look at each other, and in her eyes that look like mine I see fear. I know my eyes are doing the same thing. I’m fucking terrified.
“I don’t know, Jessa. I’m trying, though. Don’t forget that. When I’m clear and okay, I’m trying, and I love you and I am so sorry.”
I put my hand on top of hers, my sister, who is finally back today.
“You never have to be sorry,” I say, then look back to the skaters, ’cause I don’t know how to say this while looking at her, not used to the phrase that we almost never use in our family. “I love you, too.”
BIRD
I’ve been planning this forthree weeks. All I’ve told her is, “It’s a surprise” and “Bring your overnight stuff.” I’m taking a huge chance, because after a full week of arguments and an unrelenting string of no’s from Mom about borrowing her car, I’ve decided to do something I’ve never done before: ask Daniel instead.
I explain/lie that it’s Jessa’s birthday and I want to take her to see her favorite artist.
“Even though the concert is three hours away, it’s okay because I aced my driver’s ed class last year, and we’re meeting up with Charlie since the concert is only five minutes from him, and I’ve already arranged for us to stay with him overnight, so we won’t be driving back tired.” I try to cover all my bases because I don’t know for sure what exactly Mom’s biggest issue is with this weekend. If it’s relinquishing control over her car, or if it’s that she just doesn’t want me driving so far, or if it’s the fact that I’m going with Jessa. Or maybe—and I suspect this might be the real reason—she doesn’t want to relinquish control overme.
Before he can respond, I suck in another breath and continue my practiced pitch. “His roommate isn’t going to be there, so nothing to worry about on that end. We’ll be driving during the day, and besides, Jessa has a cell phone. I’ve been saving all my money for this one weekend and I already bought the tickets. It’s all worked out. But if I asked Jessa to drive us, then it would ruin the whole surprise, and then we might as well not even do it.”
I pause to see if he takes the bait; he’s still got that awkward thinking face he makes.
“And also, Daniel,” I add, pulling out every last thing I have in my arsenal, “didn’t you let Liv use your car to drive to Garrett’s family reunion two hours away last spring?”
I don’t leave him any solid reason to deny my request. If he says no at this point, then it can only be for one reason: I’m me and not Liv or Bailey or Aimee or Ava. Because as much as we like to pretend there’s no difference and we’re just one big happy blended family, he has never—not even once—told either me or Charlie that we can call him “Dad.” Liv doesn’t call my mom “Mom” either, but that’s because she has a mom who’s still in her life—not as much as she wants her to be, I’m sure, but she’s there, at least. Charlie and I haven’t had that in a long time.
“Okay, Birdie. I honestly can’t think of any reason why not,” he finally answers, and I don’t know if he really means that or he’s just thinking the same thing that I was—if you say no, it proves you don’t think of me as your daughter. “I’ll deal with your mother; don’t worry about it.”
