The Death of Us

  “Oh, Ivy, babe, just a few minutes. We have to talk. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Kevin leans forward in his seat. “Ding dong merrily! Big news in the world of us.”

  “What?”

  Mom shows me her hand. A hulking diamond glimmers on her fourth finger.

  “Is that …?”

  Kevin toots, “Glory be, she agreed to marry me!”

  “Oh.”

  Mom says, “Don’t you love the ring?”

  I can’t say anything. My head is spinning.

  Her voice lowers dangerously. “Can’t you just be happy for me? If you knew what I gave up for you— I could have been a model, but, oh no, I was pregnant and so I did the right thing. Not like your father—”

  “Don’t start, Mom. Maybe I had a bad night, huh?”

  Kevin blurts, “Go to bed, young lady.”

  “What? You two don’t want to hear about me?”

  He says, “You’re wrecking this for us.”

  “It’s never your problem, right, Mom?” My hands are shaking.

  “Shut up,” she yells.

  As I head upstairs I toss over my shoulder, “I can’t keep doing this—I try and I try and I try but nothing ever goes my way.”

  I keep it cool until I get to my room. I draw the curtain and peel off my dress. I do fifty squats, then another fifty. Two hundred sit-ups. Seventeen pushups. I’m sweaty but not broken. Eighteen. They won’t break me. Nineteen. They won’t. I drop down, my face in the carpet, the ridges pressed against my nose. And I know I can’t push up off the floor this time. Not again.

  ONE DAY EARLIER

  Callie

  The next morning, after having seen Ivy kissing Kurt at BEneath, I need to get out of the house. I tell Mom I’m going for a walk and I wander down toward the river, thinking about my granny, thinking about Ivy.

  I cross the bridge, noticing the scattered orange traffic cones, the hammered-in boards to block off the barrier, the temporary traffic lights, and a large sign reading: WHEN RED LIGHT SHOWS WAIT HERE.

  I don’t know where I’m going until I arrive at the gallery. I push open the door, feeling the air conditioning and the even cooler quiet within. I find myself in front of the painting of the woman in white slumped in the corner. I stare at it for a long time, realizing she now reminds me not of Ivy’s mom, but of Ivy. Then I head out of the gallery and come to a stop, sit on a low bench—and I start to cry. I’m crying about Ivy and my ridiculous feelings for her, crying about my grandmother, my mother, the way I’ve been acting, everything.

  I hear footsteps come across the grass. I see sneakers, jeans, hooded sweatshirt. Kurt. I’m a huge mess, tears all over my face, mascara probably everywhere. I wipe my face and say, “God, I’m so embarrassed.”

  He sits next to me. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Everything.”

  “Like what?”

  “My granny. Ivy. You guys. Last night.”

  “What?”

  “Outside BEneath. I saw you with Ivy.”

  “You were there?” he says. “That wasn’t what you think.”

  “She wants you. It’s fine, I get it.”

  “You’ve got it wrong.”

  “I saw you.”

  “You saw her. Kissing me. I don’t want her. I told her that.” He puts his hand over mine. His palm is hot and clammy. His eyes are blazing.

  A whole load of stuff clicks into place. Kurt trying to talk to me at the gallery, at his party. I say, “No, Kurt, that’s not what I mean …” I move my hand away.

  Kurt lets out a breath. “You’re beautiful. And smart. And, yeah, I … I can’t stop thinking about you.” He adds, quietly, “I should have told you. Before. Ages ago. I should never have … with Ivy. Look, I tried to tell you at my house. You just shut me down, so I can’t figure out if you’re interested or not at all. Seeing you here, I just … I just had to tell you. Can’t. Stop. Talking.”

  No way. This is all going wrong. A line pops into my head: Words like river fish. “It’s not you …”

  He nods. “I get it. I do. You think I’m not good enough for someone like you.”

  “Kurt! It’s nothing like that.”

  “Sorry. I’m being—whatever. I get it.”

  “I’m not sure I get it anymore,” I say. “See … it really is because of me, not you. I think I might be, well—”

  “What?”

  “Oh God,” I say, my voice catching. I think about how three years ago Ivy kissed all along my stomach, her mouth pausing before she lifted herself to kiss my mouth harder. I think about Mom’s face after Ivy left, when she told me she’d seen Ivy and me together. Mom was so angry. I say to Kurt, “Look, Ivy and I have a … a history. I guess I’ve been pretending to myself that it meant less than it did. I have to figure out a lot of stuff.”

  “A history?”

  “Yeah. Like, well, we were more than friends. I guess.”

  He is very quiet. Then he says, “I was not expecting that.”

  “I’m just figuring it out myself.”

  “So … you’re gay?”

  “I don’t know what I am. Maybe. Whatever I am, I have feelings for Ivy.”

  Neither of us says anything for a moment. I wonder if he’s going to walk away, if what I’ve just told him makes him want to leave.

  He says, after another pause, “That’s cool. Surprising. But cool.”

  “It is?”

  “Look, can we go for coffee now? Something. Talk about Flat Earth Theory?” He adds, “I’m not good at this stuff. Remember?”

  I nod.

  We head to the new breakfast café, sit down at a table and share a cinnamon bun with a cup of coffee each. I can’t stop myself eating more of the bun than Kurt does, tearing off sticky strips and putting them one after another in my mouth. Kurt goes and buys another bun for us, and when he returns with it I say, “Sorry, it’s just really good.”

  “Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t feel bad.” And he’s not talking about cinnamon buns.

  “I don’t know if I do feel bad. I’m just really confused.”

  “It explains a lot.”

  “Yeah? Like what? Like why I’m not interested in you?” I say it lightly and my awkward joke seems to cheer him up.

  He smiles. “Exactly.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen with me and Ivy. She’s into you.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not going there. At my party. When she was high. Too much like my birth-mom.”

  I brush aside his comment. Instead, we talk about the conclusion to my article, that the name—Redmen—of our football team is dated and racist. Kurt likes the way I explored all the angles and asked “tough questions.” I say, “Ego boost. Thanks.”

  “You’re a good writer. You know that. Don’t you?”

  “Sort of. ‘Kay, let’s talk about something else.”

  Kurt walks me home. As we get to my doorstep, my cell rings. It’s Ivy.

  I glance up at her house and there she is at the window, staring down at me. She’s wearing white and she looks like a ghost. I raise my hand to wave.

  Kurt says, “Answer that. I should go anyways. But my dad’s bringing me into the city tomorrow—he’s gotta get the car fixed. I could swing by here. Go over the ideas for the profile pieces. We covered a lot …” He scratches the back of his head and smiles. “But not the profile pieces.”

  “Okay, great.”

  As soon as I answer my cell, which is still ringing, Ivy says, “Come over?”

  I don’t know if I want to see her right now. I think of her face as she leaned to kiss Kurt last night. I wish she would look at me like that, but it’s not going to happen. It didn’t mean anything to her three years ago. I need to get my head straight.

  “I’ve been out all morning—I’m kinda tired. How about tomorrow?”

  “Sure.” I can’t make out her expression through the glass.

  I wave at her again, but then images of the two of us to
gether fill my head. I say, “I gotta go.”

  TEN

  JULY 31ST

  Kurt

  Ivy’s mom appears alone at the end of the hallway. Rushing. Shouting, “It’s good news.” She shakes Xander awake. “Ivy’s come around. I’ve seen her.”

  Xander waits.

  I wait.

  Something’s not quite right.

  Xander says, “Any news about Callie? She was in the car.”

  Thank God he’s asked.

  Ivy’s mom is quiet. Then she says, “They haven’t found Callie, Xander. I thought you knew that. She’s not at the hospital.”

  Callie. She’s not here.

  ONE DAY EARLIER

  Ivy

  I wave down at Callie through the window as I talk to her on my cell phone. What was she doing with Kurt two minutes ago?

  I say, “Come over?” I take a deep breath. Fill myself with light.

  “I’ve been out all morning—I’m kinda tired. How about tomorrow?” She sounds tense.

  “Sure.” I wait for her to mention Kurt. She doesn’t, but she gets off the phone fast. When she’s gone inside, I stay at the window, lean my head against the glass.

  I know what I saw. I’ve seen it before, back in Kansas City, watching Diego holding another girl’s hand. I tried to tell myself there was some explanation. But they were walking too close together. She lifted her mouth to kiss him. And then I knew it wasn’t the first time.

  I loved him. I loved my dad too. Until he left my mom, moved to Paris to live a beautiful life. He told me once that he had known things were never going to work out with Mom. She was drinking before he left. But I knew he was lying.

  The window is cold. I’m cold in the thick of summer. I shiver.

  Callie and Kurt. There’s an explanation. I call her back, ask, “What was Kurt up to?”

  “Kurt? Talking about the zine. I ran into him by the gallery.”

  See. An explanation. I let her words seep through me. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. Except, I can’t stop shivering.

  JULY 31ST

  Callie

  It’s the last day of July and my room’s so hot I have to escape downstairs. “Wow,” I say to Mom, who is slicing a mango on the cutting board, “there’s no way to breathe up there.”

  She nods. “Your father and I were talking about air conditioning. It’s expensive, but on days like this it feels worth it.”

  I reach across the counter and pop a piece of mango into my mouth. “Yum. So, Kurt would like to come over later, to talk about an article.”

  “Here? Okay, sure. Now, Kurt—” She raises an eyebrow. “You’ve mentioned him a couple of times. Is he interested?”

  “Sort of.” I add, “But I’m not. We’re just friends.”

  There’s a long pause. In The Odyssey, the sailors steer the ship away from the monster Charybdis, who swallows down the waters of the sea. But I can’t steer the ship anymore. I can’t go on like this. I pour myself a coffee, add sugar and some cream. As I shut the fridge, I say, “Mom, I know you don’t like it but you have to …” I try again. “See, it might be … there might not be a guy for me, if you get what I mean.” She leans against the other side of the counter and puts down the knife.

  I continue. “What happened with Ivy in the past, well, I like her. Now. I mean. And even though she’s into guys and nothing’s going to happen with us, no matter what I might think sometimes … in the future, well, I just don’t know that I’m that interested in boys.”

  She says, slowly, “You and Ivy … you were too young to be …”

  I choke up. “I don’t know if I’m gay or not gay or what, I just don’t know, but pretending like this doesn’t exist is killing me.”

  She nods, but doesn’t speak.

  “Not that it matters. She’s not interested … like that … in me.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry I’ve been so …” And Mom starts to cry. “I guess it’s been hard for me, when I’ve been busy with Cosmo, to see that you’re growing up.”

  “You were so angry with me and Ivy.”

  “Because you were young. And because I suppose I just wonder if you want to be with Ivy or if you want to be her.”

  “However you say it, doesn’t change how I feel.”

  “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” She comes round the counter and kisses me on the top of my head. “Whatever you choose.”

  I’m steering past the churning waters as she says it. The black whirlpool of fear—Charybdis—behind me, if he ever existed. The ocean has opened out, wide, blue and full of possibility.

  My phone buzzes. It’s Ivy: U coming to Xander’s party 2nite?

  —I don’t know … first I’ve heard of it!

  —wanna ride?

  —what car?

  —u’ll see.

  —I don’t know if I can go yet!

  Kurt arrives at four and we sit around in the kitchen, drinking tea. Mom clearly likes that he can talk to parents. Both Tilly and Dahlia always find it hard to hang out with my parents.

  Eventually Kurt says, “So, what’s the plan. Are you going to Xander’s?”

  Mom turns to me, quizzically.

  I say, “I, um, figured the answer would be no, so I didn’t ask.”

  Mom holds my gaze. “It might be time for me to surprise you, honey.” She turns to Kurt. “Are you going?”

  He nods. “Xander and I are pretty tight.”

  “What’s he like?” Mom asks.

  “Xander? Smart. Responsible.”

  She laughs. “You’re just saying what I want to hear.”

  “Callie can look after me,” he jokes, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Mom laughs again. “Well, I guess if Xander’s a good kid, you can go, Callie.”

  “Really, Mom?”

  “I want you home by midnight.” She adds, “Soon we should go out for lunch, you and me.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Right, I’ve got to do some work. You two okay with Cosmo?” Mom passes Cosmo to me, and heads upstairs to her office.

  I jiggle Cosmo on my knee. He burbles. I say to Kurt, “Ivy offered me a ride.”

  “Mind if we walk?” he says. “I kinda want to steer clear for a bit.”

  “I feel bad. She offered.”

  “Okay then. We can ride with her. I’m a big boy.”

  I let out a long breath.

  He says, “What?”

  “I’ll have to talk to her. Tell her how I feel.”

  “You’re going to, then?”

  “I want her to know. But maybe you and I should walk; it’ll be easier to tell her when I see her at the party. In person.”

  Kurt plays with Cosmo while I text Ivy to tell her we don’t need a ride.

  ELEVEN

  JULY 31ST

  Kurt

  The walls of the hospital waiting room are too close. Ivy’s mom repeats herself to Xander. “They haven’t found Callie, Xander. She never made it to the hospital.”

  I speak, my voice unsteady. “Where is she?”

  No one answers me.

  It’s as if I’m not here.

  I say it again, louder. “Where is she?”

  Neither of them turns around.

  Pain radiates from my chest to my hands. There is a roaring in my head, a whoosh of understanding.

  They don’t hear me.

  Ivy

  The night of Xander’s party, I’m in my new red car. My hands are on the wheel, leather beneath my fingers. My nails are violent red. The air is warm on my lips. Music makes the whole vehicle vibrate—it’s Isabel singing. I can’t stop listening to her—I keep replaying her songs at home, and now in the car. I tried to pretend to Callie that it was me singing this. Some joke. Isabel’s song creeps through my body with a tingly feeling, like someone’s running a finger up my spine. The car idles, purring beneath me. My mouth is too tight to smile.

  Callie texts: Gonna walk—lovely day. I’ll meet u there.
Can’t wait xxx.

  I saw Kurt go into her house around four. I know how this plays out. Her text is pure confirmation. So when Callie and Kurt leave Callie’s house, I’m waiting.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” I say to Callie. I can hold this together. There’s light in my heart. They must have another explanation. They’ll tell me when they get in the car and everything will be fine, just fine.

  Callie says, “No way, nice car!”

  Kurt stands there, stiff, awkward. I can see it in his face—he wants Callie. I want him, and Callie’s standing there with him like it doesn’t matter at all.

  I say, “Kevin bought it for Mommy dearest and me. They’re getting married, you know.”

  Callie says, “Cool—” She’s not meeting my eye.

  “I posted a photo of it online—I’m not Kansas Pearl anymore, just Ivy Foulds. Everyone will have seen it by now—they’re going to be climbing over themselves to be my friend.”

  “It’s really nice.” Callie’s acting like nothing’s wrong. Like it’s okay that she’s stolen Kurt from me. No, stay calm, Ivy, stay focused.

  “Come on, get in, it’s brand new. It even smells new, it’s, like, delicious. We can drive as far as we like, no one would even notice, and get out of this craphole. Or we can just go over to Xander’s party.”

  Callie says, “Mom wants me back by midnight.”

  “Like Cinderella,” I say.

  She smiles, looking pained.

  Kurt’s staring at me like I’m a snowstorm about to turn into a blizzard. But at the same time, he wants to please Callie. Puppy dog. All men are puppies.

  I say, “Let’s go.”

  Kurt says, “Let’s go.”

  Both of them get into the car.

  Callie

  Kurt, like a gentleman, sits in the back seat and I climb into the front. I’m close enough to smell Ivy’s perfume. Her hand almost brushes my thigh as she puts the car into reverse to back out of the space. She shifts to drive, her hand moves away and my mouth goes dry with longing.

  Ivy drives toward Xander’s house, which is on the other side of the river. She’s quiet, as if she’s looking for words. Then she says, “Callie, Kurt was my boyfriend. I need some sort of explanation—”