THE THING ABOUT AN AVALANCHE is that there’s no outrunning it once it starts; there is only surrender. So I sat down on the steps and waited.
I waited until it got dark. Until his aunt came home. She parked the car, pulled two plastic Bargain Mart bags out of her backseat, and as she approached me, she turned her head and frowned.
She sat down next to me, and I was so thankful she didn’t say anything.
We stayed like that for what seemed like forever. Both of us waiting.
“He’s not coming back,” I finally said, “is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No,” she said, holding up her phone. “Voice mail.”
Then she put her hand on my shoulder, and said, in such a gentle way, “Are you gonna be okay?”
I shook my head. And then I stood up and said, “If you talk to him, tell him . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Never mind.”
Mom was standing in the kitchen pouring herself a drink. Tonight it was brown and in a short glass with ice cubes. I slipped my sneakers off in the hallway and mumbled “Good night” as I passed her.
“You’re in for the night?” she asked, surprised.
I backed up a step so that I was in the doorway of the kitchen, facing her. “I’m in for the night.”
She looked at me—she had to have noticed my puffy red eyes—and I thought when she opened her mouth, she would ask what was wrong, but she only said, “Okay,” and then flipped the switch to the light above the sink.
Roxie fought me when I scooped her up off the living room couch into my arms and carried her up the stairs with me. She never liked being picked up, even when she was young, but especially now, with her aches and pains and arthritis, she couldn’t stand being held. She wriggled and tossed her head and clawed at my arms, but I didn’t put her down until we were in my bedroom with the door closed.
“Sorry,” I told her as I set her on the bed. I lay down too, and curled up into a ball around her. She was prepared to give me the cold shoulder until I pressed my face into my pillow and started crying. Roxie’s warm tongue licked the arm that was covering my face, so I reached out and hugged her tight to my body. She gave in and let me hold her there, never moving the whole night.
I woke up at six thirty in the morning and reached for my phone.
Nothing. At least, nothing from Chris. I had messages from both Hayden and Gabby, though. “Shit,” I hissed.
The latest were simple and to the point:
Gabby: ???
Hayden: Not cool, M :(
I swiped the messages away—I’d deal with that mess later.
I called him for the hundredth time. His voice mail was full now from all the messages I’d left. I lay back down, and though I tried to stave it off, uncertain if my body could handle any more tears, I started sobbing all over again.