18.

 

Close the laundry door

Tiptoe across the oor

Keep your clothes on

I got all that I can take

Teach me how to use

The love that people say you made.

—THE AVETT BROTHERS, “LAUNDRY ROOM”

I SPEND THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON HELPING MY mother clean. It keeps my mind occupied. She never once asks why I’m not at school. I guess she’s leaving the mundane things up to me now. When it’s time to pick Caulder and Kel up, Will still isn’t home. I bring both of the boys back to the house, and we begin another discussion of Halloween costumes.

“I know what I want to be now,” Kel says to my mother.

She is folding clothes in the living room. She lays a towel on the back of the couch and looks at Kel, “What are you going to be, sweetie?”

He smiles at her. “Your lung cancer,” he says.

She is so used to the things that come out of Kel’s mouth, she doesn’t skip a beat. “Oh yeah? Do they sell those at Walmart?”

“I don’t think so,” he says, grabbing a drink out of the refrigerator. “Maybe you could make it. I want to be a lung.”

“Hey,” Caulder says. “Can I be the other lung?”

My mom laughs as she grabs a pen and paper off the bar and sits down. “Well, I guess we better gure out how to sew a pair of cancerous lungs.”

Kel and Caulder ock to her and start spitting out ideas.

“Mom,” I say atly. “You’re not.”

She looks up from her sketch at me and smiles. “Lake, if my baby boy wants to be a cancerous lung for Halloween, then I’m going to make sure he’s the best cancerous, tumor-ridden lung there is.”

I roll my eyes and join them at the bar, writing down a list of the supplies we’ll need.

* * *

AFTER WE RETURN from the store with the supplies and materials needed for the cancerous lung costumes, Will pulls up in his driveway.

“Will!” Caulder runs across the street and grabs his hand, pulling him toward our house. “Wait till you see this!”

Will helps my mother and me grab the supplies out of the trunk, and we all head inside.

“Guess what we’re going to be? For Halloween?” Caulder is beaming as he stands in the kitchen, pointing at the supplies on the oor.

“Uh—”

“Julia’s cancer!” Caulder says, excitedly.

Will raises his eyebrows and glances at my mother, who has just returned from her bedroom with a sewing machine. “You only live once, right?” She places the sewing machine on the bar.

“She’s letting us make the tumors for the lungs,” Kel says. “You wanna make one? I’ll let you make the big one.”

“Uh—”

“Kel,” I say. “Will and Caulder can’t help, they’ll be out of town all weekend.” I carry two of the sacks to the bar and start unpacking them.

“Actually,” Will replies as he grabs the other sacks off the oor, “that was before I found out we were making lung cancer. I think we’ll have to reschedule our trip.”

Caulder runs over to Will and hugs him. “Thanks, Will. They’re gonna need to measure me while they’re making it anyway. I’ve been growing a lot.”

And once again, for the third time this week, we’re one big happy family.

* * *

WE HAVE MOST of the design worked out and need to take measurements for the pattern. “Where’s your measuring tape?” I ask my mother.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know if I have one, actually.”

“Will has one; we can use his,” I say. “Will, do you mind getting it?”

“I have measuring tape?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s in your sewing kit,” I say.

“I have a sewing kit?”

“It’s in your laundry room.” I can’t believe he doesn’t know this. I clean his house once, and I can tell him where everything is better than he can? “It’s next to the sewing machine on the shelf behind your mother’s patterns. I put them in chronological order according to pattern nu—never mind,” I say as I stand up. “I’ll just show you.”

“You put his patterns in chronological order?” my mother asks, perplexed.

I turn back to her as we’re headed to the door. “I was having a bad day.”

Will and I head across the street and I use the opportunity to ask him about what happened with his internship. I didn’t want to ask him in front of Caulder, because I wasn’t sure if he had said anything to him.

“I got a slap on the wrist,” he says as we walk inside. “They told me since I was defending another student, they couldn’t really hold it against me.”

“That’s good. What about your internship?” I say as I walk through the kitchen and into the laundry room, where I grab the sewing kit.

“Well, it’s a little tricky. The only available ones they had are here in Ypsilanti, but they were all primary. My major is secondary, so I’ve been placed at a school in Detroit.”

I pause what I’m doing and look at him.

“What’s that mean? Are y’all moving?”

He sees the worry cross my face, and he laughs. “No, Lake, we’re not moving. It’s just for eight weeks. I’ll be doing a lot of driving, though. I was actually going to talk to you and your mom about it later. I’m not going to be able to take the boys to school, or pick them up, either. I’ll be gone a lot. I know this isn’t a good time to ask for your help—”

“Stop it.” I grab the tape measure and return the contents into the box. “You know we’ll help.”

Will follows me as I walk back to the laundry room and replace the sewing kit next to the sewing machine. My hand brushes against the patterns that are neatly stacked in chronological order as I recall all the cleaning and alphabetizing I did the previous weekend. Is it possible that I had a momentary lapse of sanity? I shake my head and reach over and ick off the light switch, when I run into Will. He’s leaning against the door frame with his head resting against the wall, watching me. It’s dark now, but his face is slightly illuminated by the glow from the kitchen behind him.

A warm sensation ows through me, and I try not to get my hopes up. He’s got that look in his eyes again.

“Last night,” he whispers. “When I saw Javi kissing you—” His voice trails off, and he’s silent for a moment. “I thought you were kissing him back.”

It’s hard when he’s in such close proximity, but I do my best to focus and process his confession. If he thought I was allowing it to happen, then why did he pull Javi off of me? Why did he punch him? Then it hits me. Will wasn’t defending me last night. He was jealous.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

“I didn’t know the whole story until this morning, when you told your version,” he says as he continues to block my way, making me stand in the dark. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs.

“God, Lake. I can’t tell you how pissed I was. I wanted to hurt him so bad. And now? Now that I know he really was hurting you? I want to kill him.” He turns away from me and rests his back against the door frame.

I think back on last night and the emotions Will must have been experiencing. To be professing his love for me onstage one minute and then thinking I was making out with Javi the next? No wonder he was so pissed on the drive home.

He’s still blocking my way. Not that I plan on running anywhere. My entire body becomes tense, not knowing what he’s about to say or do. I slowly exhale and try to calm my nerves. My breathing has increased so rapidly in the last minute, my lungs are starting to ache again as the knot in my back reminds me of its presence.

“How did you—” I stammer. “How’d you know I was there?”

He turns and faces me, placing both hands on either side of the door frame. His height and the way he has me blocked in are intimidating, but in a very good way.

“I saw you. When I nished my piece, I saw you leaving.”

My knees start to fail me, so I place my hand on the dryer behind me for support. He knows I saw him perform? Why is he telling me this? I do my best not to get my hopes up, but maybe since he’s no longer my teacher, we can nally be together. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to tell me.

“Will, does this mean—”

He takes a step toward me, leaving no space between us. His ngers brush against my cheek, and he studies my face with his eyes. I place my hands against his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him. I try to take a step away from him so I can nish my question, but his body presses me against the dryer.

Just as I try to ask him again, he brings his lips to mine, rendering me speechless. I immediately stop resisting, and I let him kiss me. Of course I let him kiss me. My entire body becomes weak. My arms fall to my side, and I drop the measuring tape on the oor.

He grabs me by the waist and lifts me up, setting me down on top of the dryer. Our faces are at the same height now. He kisses me like he’s making up for an entire month of stolen kisses. I can’t tell where my hands end and his begin as we both frantically pull at each other. I wrap my legs around him and pull his mouth to my neck so I can catch my breath. All the feelings I have for him come rushing back. I try to hold back tears as I realize just how much I really do love him. Oh my god, I love him. I’m in love with Will Cooper.

I no longer try to control my breathing; it would be pointless.

“Will,” I whisper. He continues exploring my neck with his lips. “Does this mean . . . does it mean we don’t have to pretend . . . anymore?” I’m breathing so heavily I can barely form a cohesive sentence. “We can be . . . together? Since you’re not . . . since you’re not my teacher?”

His hands soften their hold on my back, and his lips slowly close and pull away from my neck. I try to pull him back into me, but he resists. He puts his hands on my calves and unlocks my legs from around his waist as he backs up and leans against the wall behind him, avoiding my eyes.

My hands grip the edges of the dryer and I slide off with a jerk. “Will?” I say as I take a step toward him.

The light from the kitchen casts a shadow across his face, but I can see his jaw—it’s clenched. His eyes are full of shame as he looks at me apologetically.

“Will? Tell me. Do the rules still apply?”

He doesn’t have to answer me—I can tell by his reaction that they do.

“Lake,” he says quietly. “I had a weak moment. I’m sorry.”

I shove my hands into his chest. “A weak moment? That’s what you call this? A weak moment?” I yell. “What were you gonna do, Will? When were you gonna stop making out with me and kick me out of your house this time?” I spin and turn out of the laundry room and make my way through the kitchen.

“Lake, don’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

I stop and turn toward him. “You’re damn right it won’t! I nally accepted it, Will! After an entire month of torture, I was nally able to be around you again. Then you go and do this! I can’t do it anymore,” I cry. “The way you consume my mind when we aren’t together? I don’t have time for it anymore. I’ve got more important things to think about now than your little weak moments.”

I cross the living room and open the front door and pause. “Get me the measuring tape,” I say calmly.

“Wh—what?” he says.

“It’s on the damn oor! Get me the measuring tape!”

His footsteps fade as he walks to the laundry room. He retrieves the measuring tape and brings it back to me. When he places it in my grasp, he squeezes my hand and looks me intently in the eyes.

“Don’t make me the bad guy, Lake. Please.

I pull my hand away from his. “Well, you’re certainly not the martyr anymore.” I turn and walk out, slamming the door behind me. I cross the street and don’t look back to see if he’s watching me. I don’t care anymore.

I pause at our entryway and take a deep breath as I wipe my eyes. I open the front door to our home, put a smile across my face, and help my mother make her very last Halloween costumes.