Dreaming of Antigone

  Can call me to you.

  Since she is here

  In a place of blackness,

  Here I stay and wait

  I copy the lines along the side of the homework Mrs. Davis has just handed back. My handwriting stretches across the 76 written on the top of the page in red ink. Does he really think we’re both standing in darkness? Or is he still thinking about Iris?

  Sadness creeps into my chest cavity. No, that’s not right. It’s always there, lurking. But at the moment I’m unable to hold it back. It breaches the dam, flooding everything and destroying everything in its path.

  Dammit. I squeeze my eyes shut, determined not to let anyone else see this storm surge.

  As soon as class is over, I take the paper to the library to borrow a computer and look up the lines.

  The library is full of project boards, entries into Athens High School’s First Annual Poetry Fair. Verla is giggling as she wanders out from the forest of cardboard. “Isn’t this great? I’m so excited we got so many participants! Where is yours?”

  “I’m kinda poetried out right now,” I say. “I’ll do one next year.”

  Verla shakes her head. “One can never overdose on poetry.”

  She doesn’t notice me flinch at the word “overdose.”

  “Hey, could a project give me extra credit in algebra?” I ask.

  “Ha. Do you know the begging and pleading involved in getting the English department to okay extra credit? Why aren’t you doing well in algebra? Do you need a tutor?”

  I shake my head as I find my way to a free computer. I pass by large boards with images of Shakespeare and Maya Angelou and Robert Frost. “I’ll be fine. Just need to put more effort into my homework.” I Google the lines that Alex left me. They’re by Stephen Crane. “Places Among the Stars.”

  I remember Alex cataloging Crane’s book last week. I pull my phone out of my bag and send him a message.

  Just what are you waiting for in the darkness?

  Verla bursts out laughing somewhere among the poetry fair projects.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, gathering my stuff back up.

  “Come here!” she says. “I love this one. Too bad I have to disqualify it.”

  “What?” I follow the sound of her voice and find her in front of a black tri-board, covered with words in metallic silver Sharpie. I cock my head sideways to read all the lines. “It’s a U2 song.”

  Verla shrugs. “I mean, I get that this student wants us to think of Bono as a modern poet. But the rules specifically said no song lyrics. I love the handwriting. And I love that song,” she says with a sigh.

  I’m still staring at the board when the library doors open. I glance down at my phone, but there’s been no reply from Alex.

  “Excuse me? Hello?” A man is making his way through the displays, and I see boards wobble in his wake.

  Verla waves her hands in the air. “This way,” she calls out.

  When he reaches us, I see he’s younger than I first thought. A college student, maybe. His black hair is shoulder length, and I notice Verla checking him out. That makes me smile.

  “Hi, I was told I could find Andria Webb here?”

  Verla takes a protective step in front of me. Is he a cop? Someone from the media? Mom warned me that reporters might try to talk to me, but so far I’ve been ignored.

  “My name is Collin Coleman. I’m Alex Hammond’s AA sponsor, and I was wondering if I could talk with Andria about Alex.”

  All of a sudden I know where I’ve seen him before. He was coming out of the church with Alex that day I saw him. “That’s me,” I say.

  Collin fidgets with something in his hand, then moves his hands to his pockets. “He’s been skipping meetings lately and I’m worried about him. You know, relationships are usually frowned upon during the first twelve months of sobriety, because it puts an added stress on the recovering addict.”

  I shake my head. “We don’t have a relationship. You have nothing to worry about there.”

  Collin crosses his arms. It’s like he just doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I know the two of you have grown close. He’s told me about your sister, Iris. My condolences.”

  I cross my arms too. So does Verla. “Does Alex know you’re here?” she asks.

  “I asked him if he wanted to invite you to an AA meeting, Andria. I think it might help you understand his struggle better. It might help you understand your sister better as well.”

  He holds out a business card. “Here’s a list of the times of our open meetings. Maybe Alex will come back if you offer to come with him.”

  I take the card. It lists the address of the Lutheran church on Broad. “I don’t know how much of an influence I can be.”

  Collin smiles, but it’s halfhearted. “Much greater than you think.” He really seems troubled. I don’t see him as the type of wise old sponsor bestowing calm nuggets of wisdom to anyone. “Hope to see both you and Alex soon,” he says as he turns to go.

  Collin leaves, and Verla looks at me, her arms still crossed. “Want to talk?”

  I roll my eyes. “Thank you, but no. There’s nothing to talk about. Unless you have any more books that need cataloging?”

  She doesn’t move. “Are you going to go with Alex to a meeting? They have another group specifically for family members of addicts.”

  “I don’t have any addicts in my family.” I scowl. Not anymore.

  Verla sighs and throws her arm around me. “I know, hon. But you still have to deal with the feelings your sister caused. She’s gone, but those feelings are still there.”

  “I’ve already dealt with them.”

  “Did your mom ever let you talk to a counselor?”

  I want to laugh. “Of course not.” That would have been the same as admitting emotional weakness or instability. Mom believes we as a family mourned for an appropriate amount of time and then we all moved on.

  “And that guy was right. They really do frown upon new relationships when an addict’s recovery is still fragile. But I think you and Alex might help each other heal.”

  I stare at my librarian. “You’re such a romantic.”

  She shrugs. “And I’m no therapist, so take my advice with a grain of salt. Or a whole salt shaker.”

  “Will do.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, expecting a text from Mom. It’s from Alex instead. I’m waiting for you to wake up and find someone better. You’re the type of girl who deserves someone who makes you happy.

  I don’t think that it’s up to you to decide what or who makes me happy, I text back. I want to ask where he is, but I don’t want to sound like a stalker. I miss you, I type, and my finger pauses over the “Send” button. It’s only been two days since that morning we talked in my yard, but I go ahead and send the text, holding my breath.

  There’s no reply.

  Dammit. I shouldn’t have told him that. He already thinks I’m emotionally needy.

  I stare at the phone for another minute.

  Still no reply.

  Dammit.

  Verla turns out the lights, blanketing the library in late-afternoon darkness. “Are you coming?” she asks from the door. “I need to lock up.”

  “Be right there.” I put my phone in my hoodie pocket and grab my backpack. The weight of the phone hits me over and over as I follow Verla out into the school parking lot.

  “Need a ride?” she asks, her key ring spinning around her finger.

  “Nope, my mom is parked over there,” I say, pointing to the silver Lexus.

  “Are you going to ask her about going to the AA meeting?”

  I shrug. That is not a conversation that would go well. “We’ll see.”

  “See you tomorrow then,” she says, turning away.

  I watch her walk away, unhappy knowing that I’m disappointing her. She wants me to heal, and do the fuzzy, warm healing stuff with a counselor so I can be better and help fix Alex.

  Mom’s frowning over her phone whe
n I get into the car. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Craig has been calling, wanting the rest of his things. I’m just not in the mood to deal with him right now.”

  “How is Sophie doing?”

  “She’s fine and she’ll be happy to see you. She curled up at the foot of your bed as soon as I got her home.”

  My phone vibrates against my belly and I jump a little. I take it out to read three little words that mean everything to me: Miss you too. It takes everything I possess not to make Mom turn the car around and search the school for Alex. He misses me. I have to be content with that for the moment.

  Sophie jumps up, wagging her tail like a puppy as soon as I open my bedroom door. I drop to the floor and give her a hug, thankful that she’s okay. “It’s you and me, girl,” I whisper into her fur. Ugh, she smells like the clinic. Like medicine and urine. Like hospitals and death. Before I start on any homework, she needs a bath.

  I find her lavender-scented dog shampoo out in the garage and bring it up to my bathroom. Mom has kittens when I bathe Sophie in my tub, but it’s too cold outside for a bath. I hope I can bathe her and clean the tub before Mom notices. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I can’t get the smell of sickness off her.

  Alex said he misses me. I keep telling myself I’m content with that, but it’s not contentment that warms the space inside my rib cage with fluffy bunny feelings. I think it’s something more than that. And I think I want something more than contentment from him as well.

  CHAPTER 22

  I wash and dry Sophie off, then have to take a shower myself to get the veterinarian smell off me. When we are both feeling pretty and daisy fresh, I attach her leash to her collar and take her outside for a walk. The vet told me to keep up her exercise, even if we can’t do the five- or seven-mile walks we used to do. Sophie’s tail wags hopefully as I get her ready for an outing.

  I tell Mom where we’re going and reassure her that I have my phone on me. “Be back before dark,” she says, kissing me on the forehead.

  Now I smell like her perfume. I feel like I need another shower.

  “I was thinking we could go to the movies tomorrow night and have dinner at your favorite Japanese place?”

  Now is the right time to bring up the AA meeting, which is also tomorrow night. But I chicken out. And Mom needs me just as much as Alex does. “Sounds like fun.”

  She beams, and I feel like I’ve made the right decision. “Great!”

  Sophie is tugging on her leash, so I let her outside and she pulls me toward the sidewalk. She loves our walks. She’s a well-behaved husky who likes receiving attention from our neighbors. But it’s getting close to dinnertime, so her favorites aren’t outdoors to wave to her or offer her treats.

  We start off briskly toward the main road, and Sophie is all no-nonsense. She doesn’t stop to sniff mailboxes or pee anywhere. And then we get to the end of our dead-end street, and she starts pulling north. I’d planned to go south, toward Hydrangea Lane, but she has other ideas.

  Pine Street is north of us. Where the Hammonds live. Sophie knows my heart better than I do. Or she has an evil, twisted mind and enjoys seeing me suffer. I’d like to think otherwise.

  We turn down Pine Street. It’s not like I expect to see him in his front yard. It’s not like I plan to ring his doorbell and run away giggling like a twelve year old. I don’t plan to do anything. We’re taking a walk. Me and my dog. Enjoying the fresh air.

  Alex lives five houses down from the end. The one directly behind our house. It’s a beautiful two story that was built in 1905 and is on the historical register. I’ve always loved the broad porch that wraps around the front and side. The garage is a separate building that was added on recently.

  There’s music coming from the garage. Sophie’s ears prick up, and she glances toward the sound of guitars. Calcifer is practicing again.

  I hear Thing One’s angry voice singing a song I recognize from the radio, though I don’t know the band’s name. Hank loves the angsty grunge rock groups of the nineties. Alex and Caleb have always been more eclectic in their tastes. I’ve heard them play Beatles songs, and I’ve heard them thrash out to Lady Gaga.

  The garage doors are open, and I pray Sophie walks fast enough that we pass by the Hammonds’ without being noticed. The street is lined with old oak trees with low-hanging branches, and it would be difficult for someone in the garage to see a person walking down the shady street.

  But Sophie barks when she hears Hank’s feral guitar solo. And suddenly the music stops.

  Oh dear lord. I give her leash a little tug and say, “Come on. You were the one who wanted to walk on this street.”

  Alex comes down his driveway, twirling his drumstick in his hand. “She looks great! Did she come home today?”

  I nod as he bends down to scratch her under her chin. Sophie rolls over and presents her belly to him. “The band sounds great.”

  He looks up at me, and for the first time in months, I see a real Alex Hammond smile. His eyes have a sparkly look that wasn’t there before. “Want to come listen? Will Sophie mind?”

  His smile dazzles me, and I can’t think or speak coherently for a moment. “I don’t think she likes Hank’s guitar. And I promised Mom we wouldn’t be gone long.”

  I want to ask him about his AA mentor, and I want to ask when he plans to go to another meeting. But he looks so happy playing with Sophie. And Sophie is eating up the attention. I can’t bring myself to talk about serious things and spoil the moment.

  “Pluto!” Hank shouts from inside the garage. “Quit flirting! You can hook up on your own time, man!”

  Alex sighs and straightens back up. His blue eyes aren’t quite so sparkly anymore. “Bye, ladies. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “It looks like you’re having fun. That’s a good thing.” I want him to know that I want him to be happy. That it’s okay after all the shit we’ve both been through, that it’s okay to be happy. “See you tomorrow.”

  Just as he turns back toward the garage, an orange El Camino pulls up along the street, its engine rumbling ominously.

  The sparkle has completely disappeared from Alex’s eyes as he glares at the vehicle. “You should probably go ahead with your walk, Andria.”

  Mike gets out of the car. Iris and Alex’s drug dealer. Sophie feels the sudden tension surrounding her and growls softly. Alex reaches back down to reassure her, but she slinks closer to me.

  My chest feels hollow inside, all the fuzzy, warm feelings completely drained out. I glance back up at Alex. His body is rigidly tense now, and the pain is back in his eyes. Mike is the one that can fix that pain for him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Alex asks him.

  “Been forever since I’ve seen you, Pluto. Missed you, friend.”

  “Sorry, but I haven’t missed you. You need to leave. Now.”

  “Don’t be so inhospitable. Your boys up there called me.” He nods toward the garage. “Unless you need something too.” Mike looks Alex up and down. “You look like you definitely need something. You are about to come apart, friend.”

  Alex does look like he’s about to explode. The drug dealer knows how to read people. I’m almost in awe of him.

  Almost.

  “Let’s go, Soph,” I say quietly, and she quickly obeys. She is back in Seizure Guard Dog mode, ready to protect me.

  “Hello, Beautiful,” Mike says, looking me up and down. “You look like you could use a little something too. The world is too full of sadness. You don’t need to suffer, though.”

  Sophie doesn’t growl, but she knows I’m tense. The fur is standing up on her back. She keeps her eye on Mike.

  “Leave her alone,” Alex says. “Andria, go home.”

  I really don’t like the way he’s ordering me around. I was leaving anyway. But the rebellious, stubborn toddler inside me balks.

  “Pluto!” Hank shouts again. “Quit pissing around! You and Mike need to come inside!”

/>   Alex shakes his head. “You’re leaving,” he tells Mike. “Now, before I call the cops.”

  Mike grins and holds his hands up. “No need to get hostile, friend. Just tell Hank to come out to the car and check out my cookies.” His smile is almost perfectly innocent. “Made a new batch, especially for him. But I’m sure he’ll share with you if you’re interested.”

  “Not going to happen,” Alex says. He pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket.

  “Okay!” Mike says, taking a step backward. “Jesus. Just tell Hank I’ll see him at Nona in an hour. I’ll be waiting there with his cookies.”

  That was my favorite restaurant. Was. Now I won’t be able to enjoy it, knowing Mike uses it to sell his . . . cookies.

  My stomach twists into knots as I remember it was Iris’s favorite restaurant too. I guess it wasn’t because she loved the eggplant parmesan as much as I do. Dammit, why do my sister and her drugs have to ruin everything?

  “Calling 9 . . . 1 . . . 1 . . .” Alex says, pressing numbers on his screen.

  “Leaving right now,” Mike says, opening his car door. He gets in and starts his engine. “See you around, Beautiful,” he says to me with a grin.

  Alex holds his phone up to his ear until Mike drives off. But he never does call. As soon as the El Camino is around the corner, Alex slides his phone back in his jeans.

  I turn Sophie around and tell her, “Come on, let’s go home.”

  “Wait,” Alex says. “I should probably walk you back, in case Mike tries anything.” He sighs and runs his hands across the top of his head.

  I wait, watching him. Sophie is being exceedingly impatient.

  He takes a step back and looks toward the garage. “Or maybe Caleb should walk with you.” He’s torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to protect himself. He thinks he should stay away from me. Like I’m just as dangerous to him as the drug dealer.

  “I’ll be fine.” I jerk the leash. “Come on, Soph.”

  And he doesn’t say anything. No protests, no running after me. I walk away and don’t look back. Maybe I am just as dangerous to him as Mike. Because I could make him happy, a real danger to his brooding and self-blame.