Behind me, my dad moans in dismay.
“He conned Dad into driving me over to the house by saying he had a box of Rachel’s things. But really, he just wanted to get me alone,” I say shakily. “He was mad that I’ve been ignoring him. He said that Rachel was like that, always thinking she knew what was best instead of listening to him. Jeff was going to tell me...”
“I’m going to kill him.” Glaring murderously at Jeff, who’s still lying beneath him, Chase pulls back his arm.
I throw myself on Chase’s back and grab his arm. The last thing I need is for his probation to get revoked. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”
“I’m going to kill him.” Dad thrusts both of us out of the way. “You little motherfucker. You hurt my girls.” He hauls Jeff upright and dangles him like a worm over the ground.
“Mr. Jones.” Jeff gasps, clawing at Dad’s grip. “I can’t breathe.”
“And my little girl is dead.” Dad punches him, and that’s all it takes for Jeff to pass out. With an anguished noise from the back of his throat, my father shakes the boy’s limp body and then drops him to the ground in disgust.
He walks away, as if he can’t bear to look at any of us, and stares into the dusky sky. The sun has set, but there’s still enough light out for me to make out my father’s grief-stricken profile.
“I think they were fighting that night,” I tell Chase. “The night that you stole your coach’s car. Rachel ran out on the road because Jeff was chasing after her. I think that’s what happened. He said that I was just like her and he was going to teach me the lesson that Rachel never learned. She ran away from him, like I did. It was an accident.” I implore him with my eyes. “An accident,” I repeat.
“Yeah, I know.”
“If you know, then why do you keep saying it’s your fault?” I cry.
“Because I am at fault, Beth.” He rubs his hands up my arms to cup my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter if Rachel was upset or if she was crying or if she was running away. I was the one behind the wheel. I took her life.” He gently sets me aside and approaches my mom. “I’m sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am.”
Mom takes his hand between hers. “Yes. I know that, Charlie. I know you’re sorry.”
“Dad?” I prompt.
He refuses to turn around. My stomach sinks, because I know in the pit of it that he’ll never forgive Chase.
“It was an accident,” Mom says. Her voice trembles. “Wasn’t it, Dave?”
Dad sighs, clearly loathing speaking the words. “Yes, it was an accident.”
“We almost hit you, Beth.” She’s weak with emotion.
I place an arm around her and she immediately leans into me. I’m surprised at how frail she feels.
“We were arguing about how we were treating you. Your dad wasn’t looking at the road.” She pushes away from me and grabs Chase’s hand again. “Thank you for saving our girl.”
He nods weakly. “It’s a damn good thing I was coming home from work at that exact moment. I saw Beth run out and jumped off my bike to get her.” He gestures to the bicycle lying five feet away.
“Thank you,” Mom repeats. She raises her voice. “We’re very grateful, aren’t we, Dave?”
There’s a pause and then “Thank you.” He turns on his heel and walks back toward his car. It’s as far as he can bend today.
“I’ll give you a moment,” Mom says.
“A moment?” I start to argue.
“Thank you,” Chase tells her.
“But—”
Chase drags me aside. “Baby steps, Beth.”
“They should forgive you,” I whisper. “You never should’ve spent a day in jail.”
He shakes his head. “I’m glad I went to prison. I’m glad I was punished. I mean, yeah, I hated it while I was there. I felt sick and sometimes I felt like I’d lose my mind, but being punished helped me live with myself. I stole a car. I killed your sister, Beth. I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t been punished. There’s got to be balance in this world. I don’t know if three years is enough to make up for what I did.”
I see the earnestness in his eyes and hear the sincerity in his voice. Underlying all of that, though, is the guilt that weighs him down. Chase has his own demons to grapple with. I won’t ever truly understand his perspective. But I can try and sympathize.
I think that’s what he’s asking for here—for understanding. This battle within himself isn’t about me. It’s about him. My fight is with my parents. I have to repair the torn relationship and Chase needs to deal with his guilt.
And we can’t really be together until both of those things happen.
“Okay,” I say softly. “Then do this for me.”
“What?”
“First, move out of the basement. You hate it down there and it’s stupid of you to keep punishing yourself like that.”
He gives a slow nod. “I can do that.”
“Good. Second, transfer schools.” He starts to object, but I hold up a hand. “Hear me out. You talk about balance and how you need to be punished for your actions, but my question is, when does the punishment stop? Because the court gave you your sentence and you served it. What good does it do anyone for you to go to Darling other than to cause yourself more pain? You suffering isn’t going to bring Rachel back. My parents pretending that she’s just on some extended school trip won’t bring her back.”
I hear a soft, wounded noise from behind us, and I know my mom must’ve overheard the last remark. No, the accusation.
I lower my voice and keep talking. “Me acting like I didn’t care that she died isn’t going to make her less dead. The best we can do is to live what life we have left in the best way possible.” I gulp. “For me, that starts by recognizing I’m not the only one in pain. For you, it means not punishing yourself anymore. You need a fresh start. A new school, where you’re not suffering every day.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “Where I don’t get to see you every day.”
“We still have the tree,” I tell him, trying to smile but failing. “The swing isn’t there anymore, though.”
No, it isn’t there. Because Rachel is gone. But she lives in my heart. In my parents’.
And even in Chase’s.
He takes a deep breath and when he meets my gaze, his eyes are full of pain. “I think it’s best if we don’t use the tree. It’s too hard for me.” His voice sounds hoarse. “You should spend your time rebuilding your relationship with your folks. And I...I need to heal myself. The next time I see you, I want to be with you guilt-free. I don’t want my guilt or Rachel to be between us.”
“That’s what I want, too.”
“I guess that leaves us with—” his voice drops to a whisper “—Iowa.”
I’m startled for a moment, and then I give him a sad smile. “Iowa,” I whisper back.
Our gazes lock as we each let it all sink in. I know this is right, but it feels terrible. Like he’s rending my heart in two.
I kiss him. In front of my parents. In front of Jeff. In front of anyone who might be passing. I’m kissing him because this is going to be the last time for a long time.
“I’ll wait for you,” I murmur. “I’ll be there when you’re ready. When we’re both ready.”
“I know.” He visibly swallows, and then he gives me that rare, gorgeous half smile that I love so much. “You waiting for me is the one small thing that will keep me going.”
33
Iowa State is a six-hour drive across the most monotonous stretch of land known to mankind. Mom and Dad wanted to go with me. I wanted to make the trip myself. My parents see a therapist twice a week now, but although our relationship is better, the events of last autumn left a hole that can’t be forgotten no matter how well healed it is.
Rachel’s death is like that. It’s a hole in my heart that’s healed over, but odd things will always remind me of her and sometimes those memories make me sad and sometimes they make me happy.
I arrive at the dorm midafternoon. There are parents everywhere. A momentary regret pings through me that I’m by myself, but this is the way I wanted it. I wanted to start new and fresh, as much as I possibly could.
In Darling, I would always be the girl whose sister died, and my actions and reactions would always be measured against that watershed moment. It’s why I needed to get away from Darling. Just like Chase.
We both needed a fresh start.
He transferred schools the week after he saved me from getting hit by my parents’ car.
I heard he went to Lincoln, and I was happy for him. The Lincoln kids gave him a welcome-back party; the Darling kids gave him a cruel nickname. That gorgeous girl, Maria, seemed nice. So did his other friends.
For the rest of our senior year, Chase didn’t call or text. He didn’t work at the shelter. I assume he worked with Jack. We got a lot of snow that winter, so the crew would’ve been kept busy.
Another girl would’ve thought Chase had forgotten her. Another guy might’ve strayed. But we were each other’s one small thing and that will never change.
One night, in early December, I drove by his house. It didn’t look like anyone was home, but then Mrs. Stanton came outside to roll the garbage bins off the curb and into the garage. She noticed my car and gave it a strange look. I hunched over and tried to make myself invisible. I don’t know if she saw me.
Over the holidays, my parents and I went to Colorado to ski and see my dad’s sister.
For March break, I joined Scarlett’s family in Daytona Beach for a week of sun and fun. We’re good now, Scarlett and I. She dumped Jeff the day after he almost forced himself on me; she was the first person I called when I got home that night, and to my surprise, she actually picked up the phone. She’s known me long enough to sense when I’m truly upset about something—and I was hysterical that night. She drove right over without a second’s hesitation.