Life and Other Complications Read online

  Luke was still looking out at the dark lawn when he said, “I love you too much to do that to you.”

  And everything stopped.

  There was no sound or sensation. The entire world was holding its breath.

  “You love me?” I whispered.

  He looked back at me, his brows furrowed. “I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen years old. I thought you knew.”

  I shook my head. Caroline had known. But I hadn’t.

  “I always figured it was all over my face,” Luke said.

  Maybe it was, but I hadn’t seen it.

  “You never said anything.”

  Luke leaned forward to rest his arms on his legs. “No, I didn’t.”

  He was in love with me, but he had avoided telling me. Just like he had avoided kissing me. I saw it all over again, the two of us on the lawn behind the Ballentine. The stars lighting up the dark sky. Me leaning in, and Luke pulling back. A fist tightened in my stomach. I wanted to know why, and at the same time I didn’t. Because I had a horrible feeling I already knew.

  “Because of the HIV?” I whispered.

  Luke nodded, and I wanted to die, right there in that moment. To not have to feel anything ever again.

  I thought he was different. But even Luke didn’t want me.

  I stood up, but Luke caught my hand.

  “Aly,” he said.

  “I get it.” The words caught in my throat and I hated them for that. But I didn’t know why I would expect this moment to be any less horrifying.

  “Listen,” Luke said.

  I didn’t want to sit down and listen to Luke Harrison calmly explain how this could never work, that I’m contaminated and deadly, and we could never have a normal life together. I know all that. I know it better than he ever could. I wanted to pull my hand out of his and leave. And maybe I would have if he had tried to force me to stay. But he didn’t. His grip was light. He would have let go if I pulled away.

  “Please,” Luke said.

  And I made the mistake of looking at him. I looked down at the boy who became my friend when most of the school was avoiding me, the guy who got into the only fight of his life because of me, the friend who sang “Edelweiss” in an I ♥ Guinea Pigs t-shirt just because I asked him to—and I slowly sat back down.

  Luke still had my hand. His eyes weren’t on the yard now, or the wall of the house. He was looking right at me.

  “Aly, I’m not saying I don’t want you because of the HIV. I’m saying you shouldn’t want me.”

  Which didn’t make any sense.

  “With the right meds and a little luck, you could live for decades,” Luke said. “I don’t have that kind of time. I could be dead next week.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “But it’s true. When this thing in my head goes off, it will be like a bomb. The closer people are when it detonates, the worse the damage.”

  “I hate that analogy.”

  “But it’s accurate,” he said.

  “Then I guess I’m doomed.”

  “But it could be worse. If we get too close, it will be worse.”

  He didn’t get it.

  “It can’t get any worse,” I said. “I’m in love with you.”

  Luke looked like he couldn’t absorb the words. “What?”

  I wanted to kiss him. But the thought of him pulling away again was unbearable.

  So I reached out, and for the first time in my life, I touched his cheek.

  “I’m in love with you,” I said again.

  And this time I saw the change in his eyes, the surprise, and the wonder.

  He believed me.

  Still Saturday, June 4

  This morning, I woke up in my usual post-funeral chair. That part was normal. So was the sound of the others talking in the kitchen. Even the memory of retrieving Caroline wasn’t that strange. But what happened after—I still didn’t know what to do with that.

  As I sat up, my thoughts went running off in different directions. I could have dreamt the whole thing. Or imagined its significance. Or maybe it had happened the way I remembered, but it had been Luke’s way of coping with Josh’s death, of reminding himself that he was still alive.

  He didn’t kiss me. I can’t stop remembering that.

  He knows the chances of contracting HIV from kissing are microscopic. But there’s still a chance. What if it isn’t a chance he’s willing to take?

  What if he doesn’t feel the same way about me that I feel about him?

  But he said that he loved me. That he’s been in love with me since he was fourteen years old. And I couldn’t think of a reason why he would tell me that last night, only to reject me this morning.

  Unless he had let himself forget who I am, and sleep had reminded him that I’m the girl with HIV. No one should want me.

  Luke came into the living room, and I wanted to hide. But he obviously saw me, because he came over to sit on the ottoman in front of my chair.

  Last Fourth of July, we all went to the hotel to watch the fireworks. While we were waiting for it to get dark, there was this incredible sunset. The kind that made me long for paints and a canvas. Everyone was looking at the sunset, except for Luke. I caught him looking at me like I was the most astounding thing he had ever seen.

  I had convinced myself that it didn’t mean anything. That he was really just looking at the sky. But this morning when that same expression came onto his face, there was no sunset. Just me. And all of my doubts about how he felt melted away in the warmth of that smile.

  “Did you sleep all right?” he said.

  “The two hours I got were magical,” I said.

  “We should rent the chair out to insomniacs.”

  “I’m sure they would appreciate it.”

  He smiled at me. “So, will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  “You mean like a date?”

  “Exactly like a date.”

  I only considered for a second before I said, “That would be nice.”

  I have a date. With Luke Harrison. The idea still hasn’t completely sunk in.

  Caroline was unconscious when I walked into Luke’s room.

  I opened the blinds. “Good morning, Sunshine.”

  Caroline groaned. She started to sit up, but all of the color drained from her face, and she ended up leaning back into the headboard looking sick. I watched her realize where she was, and what must have happened.

  “I’m sorry,” Caroline said.

  “I know. Which is why I didn’t bring you a plate of runny eggs.”

  I handed her water and Motrin instead.

  “Thanks.” She took the pills before handing me back the glass.

  I said, “We’re climbing Mount Washington the day after graduation.”

  “We are?”

  “It’s on Ben’s bucket list.”

  Caroline pressed her hands against her forehead. “Why couldn’t he want to sing on Broadway?”

  “I don’t know. But he doesn’t. Oh, and Luke told me that he loved me last night.”

  Caroline dropped her hands to look at me. “What?”

  “We had this huge fight about hiking, and then he told me that he loved me.”

  Caroline shook her head. “Start at the beginning.”

  So I told her the whole story, from Ben and the mountain, all the way up to this morning and dinner plans.

  “You have to admit it,” Caroline said.

  I rolled my eyes. “You were right.”

  She grinned.

  “Should I yell it from the rooftops?” I asked, raising my voice with each word.

  Caroline pressed her hands to her head again. “That’s evil, Aly.”

  But I was too happy to feel guilty.

  It was a happiness that lasted for maybe an hour. But by the time I made it back to the Millers’, the euphoria was wearing off, and I was starting to think.

  This was the beginning of a romantic relationship, something I know nothing about.
And it’s not with just any guy. It’s with Luke.

  I called Caroline in a slight panic.

  She answered the phone with the words, “You aren’t crazy. You took a chance. Taking risks is part of really living.”

  “You practiced that.”

  “I had a longer version, but this seemed to get to the point.”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “I know,” Caroline said.

  “When friends date, it doesn’t always work out. I don’t want to lose Luke.”

  “I know.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  Caroline said, “There used to be these old cartoons where a coyote would chase a roadrunner off a cliff. And the coyote was fine, until he looked down.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t look down.”

  Sunday, June 5

  All Luke told me about our date was that it would be casual, so I got dressed in jeans and my favorite shirt. I don’t really wear makeup, so I decided not to try and experiment today. I just did my best to cover the shadows under my eyes and put on a little lip gloss.

  All I had told the Millers was that Luke was picking me up. My plan was to be ready and waiting on the porch when he got here. But before I got downstairs, I heard the doorbell ring.

  I opened my bedroom door as Luke said, “Hello, Mrs. Miller.”

  By the time I made it to the foyer, Mrs. Miller was staring at the bouquet of peonies Luke was holding.

  “This isn’t a group dinner?” Mrs. Miller said.

  “No,” Luke said. “It’s a date.”

  Mrs. Miller’s face was baffled. “You’re going on a date, with Aly?”

  Luke nodded. But as his eyes settled on me, his expression shifted into a smile. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced from Luke to the door, and he took the hint.

  Luke opened the front door for me as he told Mrs. Miller, “I’ll have her back before curfew.”

  We made it onto the porch, and Luke shut the door before Mrs. Miller could regain the power of speech. He offered me a hand. I hesitated, but only for a second before I slid my hand into his. We walked down the steps together.

  “Where are we going?” I asked him.

  “Somewhere we haven’t been in a long time.”

  “That really doesn’t narrow it down.”

  “You’ll just have to be patient.”

  Luke drove us out of town and along the Lost River Road. I knew where we were, but not where we were going until he turned onto a dirt service road that ran through the back of the Ballentine property. He parked on a knoll above the hotel, right beside the tool shed that had been our club house when we were kids. The windows were so thick with dust they looked frosted. But the doors stood open, and the light from the setting sun shone on my very first mural. Caroline had wanted something psychedelic. Luke had wanted blue. So I made it a garden. Blue sky for Luke. Bright colors for Caroline. Flowers for me.

  Set out in front of the clubhouse was a blanket complete with a basket of food.

  “I owe you for the last time we came to the Ballentine,” Luke said.

  I kicked off my shoes and sat down, feeling the blanket under my hands and the grass under my bare feet. “It was a great night.”

  Luke sat next to me. “Except for the end.”

  “Except for that.”

  Luke moved so I couldn’t help but look at his face. “This time, I’m not pulling away. I’m all in.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means I will always love you.”

  A vise was suddenly clamping down on my chest.

  Luke’s brows furrowed.

  I tried to smile. “That’s why my mom spelled my name the way she did. She wanted to call me Aly and have it stand for Always Love You.” I shook my head. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to talk about my mom tonight.”

  “Okay,” he said. “We won’t talk about your mom, or my mom, or Mother’s Day, or Mother Goose, or anything the least bit mom-related.”

  “Were you planning on talking about nursery rhymes on our first date?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Luke said. “But you never know when they might come up.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not mentioning the other thing,” Luke said. “But I’m glad you told me about your name.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll never say it the same way again. Now every letter has weight. It’s more than a name. It’s a promise.”

  And Luke keeps his promises.

  After it grew dark, and the stars came out to fill up the sky, Luke kissed me. He kissed me, and I felt like I was coming alive.

  I’ve been in love with Luke for years. But to love him and know that he loves me back is a feeling that I can’t describe. It’s like Christmas morning, and the first snowfall, and the last day of school, all wrapped up into one.

  I can’t sleep. But for once it’s because I want to remember. I don’t want to ever forget the way his thumb traced the edge of my hand, and his voice made the cool air feel warm. And how he smiled at me like I light up his whole world.

  Monday, June 6

  Last night, all I wanted to do was remember. Today, all I wanted to do was forget. Because today I had to go to Boston.

  I wanted to go back to talking about meeting Rick in the grocery store. But Mr. Raleigh was flipping back through his notes from my original interviews.

  “What happened on Mr. Wallace’s birthday?”

  I didn’t want to talk about that.

  I opened the bottle of water sitting in front of me on the table and took a drink. But it didn’t really help. I still had to answer the question.

  “I made him a card.”

  “You made a card for the man who was abusing you?” Mr. Raleigh said.

  “I didn’t know he was abusing me.” My hands closed around the bottle. “We had this neighbor in our apartment building, Mrs. Lewendowski. She looked like the witches in books, with wrinkly skin and stringy white hair. I never wanted to go near her. But anytime we saw her, Mama always made me kiss her cheek. She said that sometimes we have to do things we don’t like in order to make other people happy. So that’s how I thought about Rick touching me. I didn’t like it. But it made him happy.”

  “And you wanted Mr. Wallace to be happy?” Mr. Raleigh said.

  “I did. He was good to us. And we lived in his house. Mama wanted to marry him.”

  And I wanted Rick to keep loving me. I didn’t tell Mr. Raleigh that. But it’s true. I had never had a man who paid that much attention to me, who made me feel special, and safe. I didn’t want to lose that love.

  So I made him a birthday card. On the front, I drew a birthday cake. Inside, was a picture of Mama and Rick and me, all holding hands and smiling. We were even wearing party hats.

  I gave him my card at dinner that night.

  “This is beautiful,” Rick said.

  And I felt a little surge of happiness. A surge that grew when he said there would be no more after-dinner movies.

  “School starts in a few days,” Rick said. “And it’s time Little Miss started getting to bed on time.”

  I was so relieved. I thought the bad part was over.

  Until he came into my room that night.

  I was sitting in bed looking at a book when Rick locked the door and crossed the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took the book out of my hands, setting it on my bedside table.

  “I loved the card you made me,” Rick said. “But it isn’t a present. Don’t you have a present for me on my birthday?”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t known I was supposed to make him a present. Mama was always happy with a card.

  “It’s okay,” Rick said. “You don’t have to buy me anything. You can give me a different kind of present.”

  That sounded better, until he said, “Take off your clothes and l
et me see that beautiful skin.”

  I froze.

  Rick’s face moved from happy to deeply disappointed. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I do,” I whispered.

  But Rick shook his head. “If you loved me, you would want me to be happy on my birthday.”

  “I do want you to be happy.” I whispered.

  But Rick’s face didn’t believe me. He thought I didn’t love him.

  My hands were shaking, and my heart was pounding, but I slowly took off my nightgown. The air was cold against my skin, and I hugged the balled-up material to my chest.

  Rick smiled as took the protection of the nightgown out of my hands. “Now lay down for me.”

  I didn’t want to do this.

  But if I didn’t, Rick would stop loving me. And If Rick didn’t love us, Mama and I would lose everything. And it would be my fault.

  Slowly, I made myself lay down on the bed.

  Rick let his eyes slide over my naked body. “Happy birthday to me,” he sang quietly as he unbuttoned his pants.

  Mrs. Miller was silent as I climbed into the passenger seat of the car. She worked her way through traffic, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. I folded up as tight as I could. But I couldn’t keep the memories out. They kept crashing into me.

  I gripped my legs so hard that my nails broke through my skin. I should have let go then. But I didn’t. I pressed harder, dragging my fingers down a fraction of an inch so that the cuts grew. The pain grew sharper. But I didn’t stop. I dug deeper, until I couldn’t feel anything but where my fingers were piercing my skin.

  Mrs. Miller didn’t notice. She was too busy staring out the windshield, her face settled into a tight expression of resentment.

  I knew there would be cuts, probably bruises, all things I could cover. If Mrs. Miller had caught me, she would have blown a gasket. The woman is terrified of my blood. But I didn’t care. I dug deeper and let the pain do its job. It drowned out the fear, the horror, the memories.

  For a little while it even took away the shame.