"Keep it down."
"Yeah, well, we have to talk and I can't see a damn thing."
"I don't want to talk."
"Too bad," I say, my hands crossed in front of my chest.
Leah's gripping the handle of the door, like she's ready to flee.
"Are Mom and Dad home?" she asks nervously.
"They're out."
She lets out a small breath.
I don't even know where to start. I just know I'm ready to say it out loud. It's been pent up inside of me for over a year. The demon's got to get loose. Life is not about covering up for crap and living in a fantasy world.
I take a deep breath and tell my sister, "You hit Maggie with the car and I took the fall for it. It sucked, but it's over. I wouldn't have done it if I knew you'd act like a f**king corpse the rest of your life."
Her eyes are wide as if her brain is registering the truth for the first time.
"Talk, Leah," I order. "Say something ... anything!"
"I can't deal with it!" she cries out, then hurls herself onto her bed face-first.
I grab a box of tissues off her nightstand and toss it to her. I stand over her as she cries hysterically.
"I'm sorry, Caleb. I'm so sorry," she says between sobs. "I could have killed her, Caleb."
"But you didn't."
"I stood there and watched as they handcuffed you. I let them take you away."
I was so used to being the troublemaker, used to being the one who screwed up. Leah had been the squeaky-clean twin; I was the rebel. Even drunk, I didn't hesitate taking the fall for the accident. Leah wasn't going to be handcuffed, arrested, and convicted. She couldn't handle it. I could.
The cops didn't question it when I confessed right there. Hell, my own parents never questioned my guilt.
To think, it was all because Leah swerved to avoid hitting a f**king squirrel in the road.
"It's over." I tell her.
"No, Caleb, it's not. It'll never be over. I'm going to carry this guilt around with me the rest of my life. I can't even look at Maggie. Hell, Caleb, I can't even look at you. It's so hard for me, you can't imagine what it's like."
She's right, I can't.
Turning to me, she sucks in a frightened breath. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you? Promise me you'll never tell anyone."
I look down at my twin, the girl who I shared my mom's womb with, shared birthdays with, and grew up side by side with. She should know me like I know her, feel my pain as much as I feel hers. She knows this secret is tearing me up inside. I can feel it just as much as I know how twisted her rationale has become. But she ignores me and focuses only on herself. She really is, after all, a stranger to me.
THIRTY-FOUR
Maggie
I'm humming an old song my mom used to sing to me when she put me to bed, back when I was scared of the dark and refused to go to sleep. Life was less complicated back then. My dad lived at home and Mom's only job was, well, to just be a mom.
Now she's working as a waitress and dating. Okay, that last part is my fault. I can't even blame my mom for her date tonight. Thanks to Caleb, I'm finally coming to terms with it.
That first night he kissed me was magical. I was all ready to just be friends with him, cherish our platonic relationship, when it suddenly turned into something more. When I'm with him I don't think about my limp. All I think about is how good it feels to be able to talk and share and kiss.
Am I falling in love with Caleb Becker again? I don't know. I'm so nervous and scared to be hurt again, I'm keeping a wall up so my heart is protected.
Little by little he's been chipping away at that wall.
After work we've been getting off the bus two blocks away so we could steal an extra few minutes together. Unfortunately, today he had a meeting with some counselor from the Department of Corrections. He said it was important, so I hope it goes well.
I've forgiven him for the accident. Two days ago he tried to bring it up, saying he had something important to tell me about it. I cut him off with a kiss and promises of forgiveness.
The wind is blowing, and the leaves are starting to fall. It's the end of summer. The trees and grass and flowers are getting ready for dormancy. As I plant the last of the daffodil bulbs for Mrs. Reynolds, I think of the winter they'll have to survive before thawing and being ready for their first peek of the sun.
I look up from daydreaming about songs and trees and Caleb to find Mrs. Reynolds standing over me. I stop humming.
"You sure are cheery today."
"I only have five more bulbs before I'm all done," I tell her.
"That's a good thing, too," she says, looking up at the darkening sky. "The weather is changing. I already feel a winter chill in the air."
"Me too." After I finish the last bulb, we sit down and eat dinner.
"I'd like to invite you and your mother over for dinner one night. But only if it's okay with you." "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because my son has been on more dates with your mother than he's been on in the past three years. I've been coaching him, you know."
"You have?"
"Did Lou bring you chocolates the first time he came to your house?" I nod.
"That was my advice. I told him to bring yellow roses to your mom because they're the best way to start--"
"They weren't yellow roses." She raises an eyebrow. "They weren't?"