One Last Thing ✅

fifty-six things

When I walk in the door, Grams is sitting just where I left her. She sticks her finger in her book to hold the place and looks at me expectantly. "How was your walk?"

I cut my eyes away and start to give my standard "fine" answer, but then I have second thoughts. Maybe this is part of my problem. I take everything bad that happens to me and stuff it down until it festers and grows into something unmanageable, a monster that will not be silenced and ends up taking control and carving its rage on my arms and thighs. If I can seize these negative feelings at the root and yank them out, somehow, maybe by giving them a voice, perhaps I can starve the monster, take away its power.

"Not so good," I say to Grams, wandering over to the couch and taking a seat next to her. "I, uh, ran into Mrs. Edwards's daughter."

Grams purses her lips and looks down. I expect her to ask how I even know what Mrs. Edwards's daughter looks like, but she doesn't. Instead, she shakes her head and says, "That poor girl. How did she look?"

Thinking of the way Harper's eyes sparkled when I spoke of her mother, I say, "Actually, not that bad. I think... I think she's going to be okay." And as I say the words, I realize that they're true. Harper seems like a smart, strong girl. If anyone could make it through a loss like she suffered, it's her. "There was this girl from school there, too. She basically called me a murderer."

Grams face darkens. "You know that's not true."

I look down. "I know it, but it feels true."

After setting her book aside, Grams reaches over and grabs my hand with her own. Her skin feels papery and thin, but warm. "The thing about feelings," Grams says, "is sometimes they're wrong. They can fool you. I know that you feel guilty for what happened. It's tearing you up inside. But you know what? That's because you're a good person, not a terrible one. If you didn't feel any remorse, I would be worried about you. Trust me, Lil, you are beautiful and sensitive and loving. You are no murderer. Remember that, okay?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

Grams squeezes my hand. "Abbott stopped by while you were gone."

"He did?"

"Yes. He was on his way to Jared's house for band practice. He wanted to ask you to come along."

I consider the invitation. The last time I went to Jared's wasn't so bad, but it might be awkward to hang out with Jared and Abbott at the same time, now that Abbott and I are kind of... well, I don't know what we are, but it's something. Remembering what Grams told me when I had to go back to school, that I'd have to do it at some point and that sooner is better than later, I decide I should go.

On the walk over to Jared's house, I practice what I'm going to say when I see Abbott. Should I play it casual, like, Oh, hey, what's up? It's not like your father walked in on us messing around the other day... Or should I give him a sheepish smile to acknowledge the embarrassment of the other night and maybe give him a way out of this whole thing if he wants it?

As I walk up the driveway, I decide to go with playing it cool. The garage door is closed, but I hear the notes of Violet Crumble's "Kiss Me Raw" emanating from within. I walk over to the front door and ring the bell, hoping Jared's brother is around to let me in.

After a few moments, the door swings open, and a miniature Jared stands before me. It hits me then, just how much he looks like his brother. Blonde hair falls over one blue eye. He slouches in his hand-me-down flannel and ripped jeans. Even his facial expression mirrors the ones his brother tended to give me: one of wariness.

"Hey, Jake," I say, my voice sounding light and fake, even to me. "How are you doing? It's been a while since I've seen you."

He leans against the doorframe, shrugs.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah," he says, sounding bored, and takes a step back to let me in.

I follow him into the house. He turns into the living room and unpauses a video game, doesn't say anything further. I take the familiar route to the backdoor to reach the garage. As I pull open the door, I'm greeted by the pounding of Abbott's drums, matching the beating of my heart, which seems sort of appropriate.

Closing the door behind me, I study the scene. Jared is standing in his usual spot, bent over his guitar, forehead wrinkled in concentration. Abbott is lost in his own world. Only Riley, who is swaying and singing dreamily into her microphone, spots me. When she does, her face breaks into a huge grin and she shrieks. The sound is magnified, and both of the boys jump. Riley runs over and jumps on me.

"Hey, lady," she exclaims.

"Hey," I say, smiling, embarrassed, not looking at either of the boys.

"How's it going?" Jared asks, and I know that is his version of making things normal between us, at least for the time being.

"Okay," I reply.

Abbott gets up, lays his drumsticks on top of the biggest drum. "I was wondering if you'd show up."

"Yeah, well, Grams told me you stopped by," I say shyly.

"You're just in time. We're about to play Outside. I told Riley and Jared about your hidden singing talents."

"Uh..." I say nervously, looking at Riley, whose smile only broadens. Surely she can't think I'm cut out to sing. She heard me sing Girl Scout songs all those years at camp. Never once did she say anything encouraging. But here she is, pulling me toward the microphone.

"Come on," she says. "I'm psyched to hear you."

Jared ambles over to his guitar and puts the strap over his shoulder. I shoot Abbott a murderous look, but he is busy picking up his drumsticks and getting ready to play. I try to think a way to escape this, but it seems there's no way out. Abbott hits the sticks together three times, and Jared starts playing and then I am sucked into it. That's how it always goes. As soon as the music starts, I'm swallowed by the need to be part of it.

I can feel my fingers weakly pulse along with the notes, strumming uselessly against my thigh, but when it's time, I open my mouth and start to sing instead. My voice becomes my instrument, and I close my eyes and let go, pouring everything I have into the song. It feels so good to be a part of this again, to be creating something beautiful.

When we finish, I open my eyes and see Riley staring at me. "Jesus," she breathes. "How have you been hiding that from us?"

"Seriously," Jared chimes in.

I look over at Abbott, who is casting an I told you so look in my direction. Unable to keep the grin from spreading across my face, I shrug. "I didn't really know myself," I say.

It's the truth.