Elizabeth Scott - Between Here and Forever

“I’d do anything to have her come back to us.”

“I know,” I say. “And she wil . I mean, this is Tess, Dad.”

He smiles, and I slip away, go to bed. I don’t sleep though, and it’s a long time before Dad leaves Tess’s room, almost daylight, and I wonder what he saw in those pictures that had him asking the things he did. I wonder if there are things I’m not seeing.

I got out of school early. My last two classes were canceled so we could al sit through an assembly about improving our academic performance, and there was no way I was sticking around for that.

It’s too early for Eli to be here, but I look for him anyway. I don’t see him, and why should I?

I remind myself of that when I’m disappointed.

If only I could wire my brain to think the way it should, instead of the way it does.

I head up to see Tess, but when I’m buzzed in to the unit I stop, frozen, and stare into Tess’s room.

Beth is there. Beth, who hasn’t come to see Tess since before classes started up again, and when she left the last time, something about the look on her face, a sort of bitter sadness, made me think she was never coming back. I didn’t say anything to anyone about it, but I was right.

Or at least, I thought I was.

“Beth?” I say as I walk into the room.

“Hey, Abby,” she says, and moves back from where she was sitting, pushing her chair away from Tess’s bed. She’s been holding Tess’s hand, and I watch as she pul s her fingers away, her thumb smoothing over Tess’s as she lets go. Her hair is longer than when I last saw her, down to her shoulders, and chunks of it have been colored a deep, rich purple.

“You don’t have to move,” I say, sitting down in the other chair. “When did you get here?”

“A little while ago,” Beth says. “I wanted—I was just thinking about her yesterday and I thought …” She trails off and touches Tess’s hair briefly, like it pains her. “She’s gotten so thin.”

I look at Tess, at the hol ows under her cheekbones, at the frail length of her arms. I don’t see anything different, but then I see her al the time.

Beth wil see things I don’t.

“Are you going to stay over? I know my parents would love to see you.”

Beth shakes her head. “I don’t—no offense, Abby, but I didn’t want to see anyone. I just … I was cleaning up her room, putting Tess’s things into boxes to send back here, and I started thinking about her.”

“Wait, send her stuff back? You don’t have to do that. She’s going to need it—”

“I—I have a new roommate, Abby, and I can’t … I can’t keep Tess’s things around.”

“Can’t? Why?”

Beth’s mouth tightens. “Abby, I—I have a life.”

“Oh. Okay. Don’t let me or Tess keep you then,” I say. “When Tess wakes up, I’l be sure to tel her you decided you couldn’t be her roommate anymore. That’l be nice to hear, don’t you think?”

“I should go,” Beth says, and stands up, looks down at Tess with her mouth trembling, and then looks at me. “Look, about me and Tess living together. Before the accident, we talked, and Tess said she was going to move out. We—”

“Hey, I thought you might be here. I came early because I wanted to—oh,” Eli says. “I didn’t see—Hi,” he says to Beth. “I was looking for Abby.”

“Hey,” I say at the same time Beth says, “Hi,” and then turns back to me, saying, “You’re bringing guys with you when you visit your sister?”

“He’s here to see her,” I say. “Unlike her so-cal ed friends, who decide to disappear and then show up and announce ‘Oh, hey, I’m getting rid of her things because I don’t feel like waiting for her to move back.’”

“Like I said, before the accident, Tess and I—”

“Um, should I come back later?” Eli asks, and that’s when I see it. Over the sound of Eli’s and Beth’s voices, I see Tess.

I see her eyes moving behind her closed eyelids, like a part of her is listening.

“Tess,” I say, and lean over, grab her hand. “Tess, I saw that. Come on, open your eyes.”

But she doesn’t.

looking at Tess and we’re al waiting outside the room. I should have noticed, but I don’t because I am watching Eli, who is standing with his arms folded across his chest again, looking almost as freaked-out as he did yesterday.

“Do you need to go get a drink or some air or something?” I ask, and that’s when I notice Beth is gone.

“Crap,” I say. I hadn’t been looking at Eli that much. Or so I thought. “Beth couldn’t even stay and say good-bye to Tess?”

“Is that who was with you?”

“Yeah, her roommate,” I say, and notice that under his crossed arms, Eli is tapping the fingers of both hands against his shirt. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’m sure Tess is going to wake up now, and of course you can come back and see her because I know you’l want to, but for now—”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m going—I’l be in the cafeteria.”

And then he leaves. Or, more accurately, bolts.

I wait for the nurses to come out. When they do, I’l have to wait for them to cal the doctor, and for the doctor to show up, but I have enough money to buy a magazine and I’l read it while I wait and wait and eventual y the doctor wil come and tel me how long it’l be until Tess opens her eyes for good and how long it’l be until she can sit up. Walk.

Come home.

Unfortunately, none of that happens. The nurses don’t see any change in Tess. I explain about her eyes, and I’m told that “emotional upset’’ can

“be stressful for family,” and before I know it, I’m walking out of the unit fast, my stomach churning, my eyes burning.

I open the stairwel door, and then, with a sob rising up out of me, take my bag and throw it as hard as I can down the stairs.

Why isn’t anyone else seeing what I do? Why? I know I’m only seventeen, but that doesn’t make me a liar or stupid or both. I know what I saw.

I wipe my eyes, blinking hard to stop the tears, and head to the cafeteria. Right now, if I go back to Tess’s room, I’m afraid I’l scream. Or cry. Or both.

I wonder if my parents wil hear about what happened. I know they wil . What wil they think? Wil they think I’m a liar? Be disappointed? Both?

My parents have never been disappointed in me, but if Tess doesn’t wake up, if I become al they have, how wil they be able to avoid it? How can they not look at me and think of everything Tess could have done?

How can they not see how obvious it is that I can’t ever be her?

I don’t want to let them down, but I wil . I let myself down so easily, so stupidly, and there is no way I can ever be like Tess. I can’t be perfect. I can’t make everyone happy. I can’t make everyone want to be me.

This shouldn’t make me angry, but it does. I don’t want to even try to be Tess. I wish she’d just gone back to school after the party. But no, she had to come see my parents again. She wanted to talk to them about her classes, ask for their advice, and thank them for being there for her.

In other words, be the perfect daughter while I skulked around wishing I was anywhere else. I didn’t go to any parties on New Year’s Eve, went over to Claire’s and ate stale microwave popcorn with her while people on television gushed about how next year would be the best one ever and introduced musical acts who lip-synched poorly and exhorted us to “Celebrate!” until I told Claire my New Year’s resolution was to never ever say the word “Celebrate!” like it was a command.

I head into the cafeteria, buy a soda from one of the vending machines against the far wal , and pop the top, glancing around the room. Normal y I sit by the plastic tree in the corner, watching people look out at the river and silently counting down how long I have until the nurses wil be done with whatever they are doing and I can go back to Tess.