MY HOUSE IS EMPTY. I WANDER THROUGH THE ROOMS, UNSURE OF where I want to be until I realize I don’t want to be anywhere. Every room has a hole in it—where a chair was, a stereo, a set of books, a closet of clothes. Mom never filled them in after Dad left, and I guess I didn’t care. But since the accident, all I can see are the holes in things.
I end up in the kitchen. Open the refrigerator, stare into it, close it. Finally, I read the note in the fruit bowl, wedged with some cash between a too-soft pear and a brown banana. Mom hasn’t learned to text, so the fruit bowl is our courier.
Cam—
Don’t forget your appt. with Dr. Summers again.
Late tonight. Here’s money for pizza.
Love,
Mom
I count the cash and stick it in my pocket. She’s never changed the amount. Still enough here for me and Viv. I stare at the number for the pizza place on the fridge. It’s called Pizza Emergency, and they actually deliver pizzas in an old converted ambulance. Viv used to think that was hysterical. She’d call up and say, You’ve got to help us—we need pepperoni, STAT!
We both laughed at the dumb joke every time, but now all I can picture is the broken pole on the street corner and an ambulance driving slowly away, with its lights off.
I walk to my room, fall on the bed, and sleep.
I have the dream of Viv again. I’m almost thankful for it. She looks so beautiful, so carefree. Only this time something’s different. She’s still walking toward me, away from the flames … but I can’t hear her. Everything is silent.
She gets to that place by the pole where she always stops, but there’s still no sound. I see the look in her dark eyes, the light of flames dancing on her cheek—and then I hear a voice. But it isn’t hers. It’s metallic.
“Cam? Camden!”
I wake up reaching for her and she isn’t there. I’m alone in my bed. I bury my head beneath my pillow and hate everything, whisper every impossible thing I’ve wished for since that night in August. All I get is a damp pillow. When I feel like my eyes are going to swell shut, I walk blindly to the bathroom and stand under the shower. I let cold water force my eyes open, numbing my skin until it isn’t burning with longing.
I don’t realize I’m still in my clothes until I shut the water off.
Dr. Summers’s office is located in the basement of her split-level house, ten blocks over from mine. Her golden retriever, Lance, meets me at the door, wagging his tail. The office is furnished with two incredibly soft leather couches and a rolling desk chair. The carpet is beige. Pictures of her husband and son dot the walls.
Right away, I can tell something’s up. Dr. Summers doesn’t sit in the chair like she always does. She perches casually on the other couch, resting her elbow on the arm. Her clipboard is in her lap. Her short, fading-blond hair is still tucked neatly in place, but her glasses are next to her on the table, and she studies me with careful eyes.
“It’s been a couple weeks since I saw you, Cam.” Her smile stays in place. “How are things going?”
“Sorry, I forgot last week.”
This is such a shitty lie, I’m embarrassed. I’ve been coming here every Friday at four o’clock for the past two years, since I quit the team. Since my dad took off. She knows how I feel about him, about football, and about people at school. I’ve always told her the truth about things, but each week for the past two months, I’ve been telling her lies. I don’t want her to know how I really feel about Viv. I mean, she knows how I felt before, but I can’t tell her what goes through my head these days. That my life ended when Viv’s did. That the accident was my fault. That every day I wake up and wonder why I’m the one still here.
Lance shoves his nose under the door, and I glance over.
Dr. Summers sees this, and her face brightens.
“You know, I’m going to break my own rule. Let’s let Lance in, just for today.”
Before I can say anything, she opens the door and the dog runs into the room like he’s just won a jackpot. He plants himself on my feet, tail wagging furiously, and stares up at my face with his tongue lolling out. I glance at Dr. Summers, who is back on the other couch. She nods, and I pet her dog’s head, because how could I not with him looking at me that way?
“It’s a good day for you,” I whisper into his ear.
Dr. Summers leans forward. “But not a good one for you?”
I shut my mouth, look from her to her dog, and see how perfectly she set that up.
“No,” I say, defeated.
“It’s been two months today, hasn’t it?”
I don’t say anything.
“How do you feel about that, Cam?”
I grit my teeth. I have bunches of Lance’s reddish fur squeezed into both my fists. I loosen my grip and pet him normally. He looks at me with huge brown eyes and licks my arm.
“You’ve been trying so hard not to talk about Viv since she died …”
My eyes sting. I stare into nothingness and bite hard on the inside of my cheek. I’ve never cried here and I’m not about to start. I’m almost positive she knows I’ve been lying to her, which makes this even worse. Lance rolls over for a tummy rub.
“Cam,” she says gently, “I’m here to listen.”
I focus on Lance, skimming my fingers over the soft gold hairs on his belly. I feel her watching me, waiting for me to speak. I can’t stand it.
“I have this dream—about Viv,” I say. Dr. Summers’s shoulders relax, and I know this will be enough, for now. “I keep having it, over and over, where she’s coming toward me, but then she turns away....”
She talks about what the dream might mean to me. I sort of listen. It’s mostly psycho-babble, but I have to seem interested or I’ll never get out of here. By five o’clock, I’m exhausted, but it’s worth it because Dr. Summers looks pleased when she walks me to the door.
“Thank you for sharing the dream with me, Cam.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I know you’re in a lot of pain, and it’s normal for you to feel that way … but I also think Viv wouldn’t want you to go on like this forever.”
I’m petting Lance on the head, but my hand halts on his ear.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that you still have so much life to live …”
“And Viv doesn’t?” I say flatly.
Dr. Summers pauses. “That’s not what I mean—”
“What then, you want me to forget her?” My skin prickles.
“No, nothing like that …” she says. “I just think Viv would want what’s best—”
“How do you know what she’d want? You never even met her!”
The dog tries to lick my hand, but I pull away and slam the door behind me. I can’t believe my shrink tried to put words in my dead girlfriend’s mouth. I storm down the sidewalk for one block, then another, but pretty soon my bad leg twinges and then my eyes start to burn. I slow to my normal pace, trying to remember how to breathe—on my own. I can’t even figure out what to do next, where to go. I close my eyes and try to think what Viv would want. If she were here, she’d tell me … I’d know.