Page 35

Chapter 35

Everett

Isa didn’t talk at first; we just searched. You’d think a flashy red Tesla would stick out like a stop sign, but no. We walked past SUVs, sedans, pickup trucks, convertibles, and smart cars, only blinking when our eyes dried out. I kept an ear out for Grace, waiting for her shout that she and James had found our hidden treasure, but she didn’t.

“You can put me down now,” Isa said after we’d wandered through a few parking lot rows. With all due respect to the Barbours, I’d never seen so many Subarus in one place. The orange Outback was hideous. “I’m okay to walk.”

“Absolutely not,” I said, keeping her firmly in a piggyback position. Isa had kicked off her high heels earlier, revealing two feet that might require amputation in the near future. They were now inflamed with bubbling blisters and yellow pus. “I’m not letting you walk barefoot in a Philadelphia parking lot. You could step on a stray—”

“Needle?” she guessed.

“I was going to say nail, ” I chuckled. It felt so good to laugh with Isa again. “But that too.” I squinted at the dirty concrete floor. “Definitely.”

By way of response, Isa tightened her arms around my neck. “Everett,” she said after a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

I turned to give her a bemused look. “You already saidthat.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, no, I know, but that isn’t what I’m talking about….” Her voice faded to a whisper. Even though I could feel her breath against my ear, I could barely hear her. “What I said earlier is pathetic compared to what I truly owe you.”

The corners of my eyes prickled. “Don’t worry about it,” was all I could think to say. “Dad being sick doesn’t automatically cancel out me being the douchebag who dumped you.”

“That’s just it, Everett,” she said. “It did— of course it did. I used to replay you breaking up with me every night before I went to sleep, but that stopped the day my parents told me about your dad.” Her words wobbled. “The reason I wasn’t there for you was because I didn’t even know how to be there for myself. ”

Blood pulsing in my ears, I stopped in front of a stylish non-Subaru. Even in the dim parking lot, its familiar red paint job shone. Isa exhaled in relief as my vision blurred, my tear ducts not having their shit together. I closed my eyes and let myself remember my family’s landline ringing three years ago. “Cruz, Pilar,” it had reported, but when Dad had answered it, he said, “Isa, hello.”

Her parents dropped the bomb, I thought, blankly staring at the TV. The Mets were playing the Diamondbacks. Somehow I’d clocked the final score: 8–1, Mets.

“Yes, it’s true,” Dad said, voice calm but face pained. Once Isa started sobbing over the phone, he left the family room and closed himself in Mom’s studio to talk to her privately.

“I loved your dad,” Isa said now. “Everyone grows up thinking their parents are the best, and while I couldn’t have been prouder to be my father’s daughter, I always believed Jesse Adler was the best dad. I know he wasn’t mine, but he meant everything to me, Everett.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“He was my confidant when I felt like I had no one else,” she continued. “Or even if I had someone else—still, I wanted to talk to him. He always knew what to say and how to help. Always, always.”

I closed my eyes. Dad had loved Isa so much. There was no imagining her as his future daughter-in-law or anything—just, he loved her. “Isa is a part of this family, Ev,” he’d said after we’d broken up. “I understand that you did what you needed to do, but I also know that you love her.” He gave me a long look. “A pair of scissors should never be taken to ties like yours.”

“I was heartbroken,” Isa said. “My parents don’t do feelings—you know they never have, so I felt like I had no choice but to repress mine, because your dad was going through hell. I couldn’t ask for his advice. And you—I didn’t want to make you feel worse. I didn’t think unleashing my rage would be of much support.” Her tears dripped onto my neck. “I had no idea how to support you, Everett, so I chose to do nothing. And for that, I will forever be sorry.”

Several seconds passed; I didn’t respond until I felt Isa’s heartbeat against my back. “He liked to say you hung the moon,” I said. “I heard him say that to my mom a lot.”

“He told me,” she whispered. “He told me that beforehe…”

Before he…

Neither of us needed to complete the sentence. Shoulders sagging, I walked over to the Tesla and gently set Isa on its spotless hood. Then I backed up a few paces and stood with my arms crossed over my chest. “God, I’m preaching to the choir,” Isa said, eyes red-rimmed. “You already know how special your dad was, Everett. He was your dad. ” She shook her head. “I can’t even crack the surface of how you must feel.”

No, I thought. Nobody can.

I had my family, Grace, and a therapist—and now, Isa—but I felt like no one would ever understand the fracture I felt inside me.

“I miss him,” I said, glancing at the ground. “I miss him all the time.”

“I do, too,” Isa replied. “It’s not fair.”

We looked at each other.

“My father is cheating on my mother,” she said, “and I am desperate to talk to your dad about it. I don’t know what to do. He’s the only one who can help me figure it out.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “It’s not fucking fair that he’s gone.”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “You’re practically quoting me during every single one of my therapy sessions.”

“I asked Papá if I could see a therapist,” Isa said quietly at the same time I said under my breath, “My therapist thinks I’m depressed.”

Again, it was silent. I didn’t ask Isa what her dad had said (my guess was no), but she nodded in her resolute manner. “And what do you think?” she asked gently.

“Oh, I don’t think, I know, ” I answered. “I know I’m depressed, Isa.” I sighed. “I’m always tired, but then I get so restless at night and can’t fall asleep. I find myself pulling away from people.” I swallowed. “I like my other friends, but I never eat lunch with them anymore. Maybe a few times a week, but that’s it. I go to the library for peace and quiet; I sit there alone and stare at the clock, just like in class. Watching— waiting for the day to end. The only time I’m not a complete killjoy is during baseball or at home with my family and Grace.” I paused. “Or with you.”

Because, truthfully, being with Isa today had splashed some color back into my life.

“We tried an antidepressant last summer,” I continued. “And it made everything worse. I was…” I searched for the right words, reluctant to find them. “One day I’d be racked with anxiety and agitated by everyone, and the next I felt like I’d totally disassociated from my life. I wasn’t myself.” I coughed. “Anyway, I stopped taking that medication.”

Isa nodded again and waited. Ever since we were kids, she could always tell when I had more to say. It was a superpower.

I told her about the not-so-new medicine that my therapist had not-so-recently recommended, and my fear of history repeating itself. I didn’t want to be a ghost again.

“I’m always here for you, Everett,” she said after I finished speaking. “And I promise I’m going to do a much better job of showing it.”

“Thanks, Isa,” I said. “I’m always here for you, too. I know I’m not my dad, but you can talk to me.”

In response, she smiled.

I smiled back and moved closer to her, close enough to hold out my hand.

She took it.

But instead of shaking hands, we faced off in a thumb war.

It was how our childhood secret handshake started. We’d created it in third grade, and it had seven stages. Isa laughed when we sealed things with an aggressive pinkie promise.

Muscle memory, for once, had never felt so good.

“We should probably tell Grace we found my parents’ car,” Isa said, patting the Tesla’s hood. “What do you think? Should ‘fingerprints’ be filed under damage?”

“Eh, I’d let it slide,” I said. “Considering they’re your fingerprints.”

Isa giggled. “On three?”

I nodded. “On three.”

One.

Two.

Three.