Page 187 of Choosing You

“It’s because you’re not running from stuff anymore.” He cups my cheek and wipes the remaining tears off my face with his thumb. “You’re dealing with it.”

“I don’t want to deal with it. Dealing with it sucks.”

“I know it does. But sometimes life sucks and you just have to deal with it.”

It’s true. But it’s not fair. I’ve already dealt with enough in 19 years. I can’t deal with any more.

CHAPTERFORTY-NINE

Garretand I return to the front seat. Frank’s house is only about 10 minutes away from the hospital. On the way there, we pass my old house.

“That’s where I grew up,” I say, pointing out a small white house that looks more like a trailer than a house.

He pulls over to the side of the street.

“Garret, what are you doing?”

“I wanted to see your house. You saw mine.”

“Yeah, well that’s it. You saw it. Now let’s go.”

Garret takes a moment to look at it. The house looks the same as when I lived there. It still needs to be painted and still has shingles missing from the roof. Frank said whoever lived there last didn’t make the payments so it’s bank owned now.

“It’s a crappy house. I know. Let’s just go.”

Garret drives down the street a few blocks to Frank’s house, which isn’t much better. It’s also a small house in need of repair. But the inside looks nicer than the house I grew up in. Frank has newer furniture, not the old, beat-up, thrift-store furniture my mom had. And he keeps the place neat and clean.

“You can wait here,” I tell Garret as we stand in the living room. “I’ll get Ryan’s stuff.”

When I return from Ryan’s room, I find Garret looking at old photos of me that Frank has on the fireplace mantle next to photos of Ryan.

“Don’t look at those.” I step in front of him. “They’re so embarrassing.”

“You were hot even in high school.” He can still see the photos over the top of my head. “Didn’t you have an awkward stage like the rest of us?”

“I’m sure you were never awkward, Garret.”

He picks up a photo of me at graduation. “Jade, the valedictorian.”

I set it back on the mantle. “Yeah. Great. Are you done now?”

“I want a tour of the house. Or at least let me see your room.”

“There isn’t much to see. We’re in the living room and you can see the kitchen from here.” I lead him to the back of the house. “That’s Frank’s bedroom,” I say as we pass it. “Ryan’s is at the end of the hall. And here’s mine.”

Garret walks into my room. It’s the smallest bedroom in the house. My twin bed is wedged against the wall, topped with an old quilt my mom had. There’s a small desk and chair against the other wall. Seeing the room now, it looks pretty pathetic. I never thought that when I lived there. It’s funny how your perspective changes when you’re away for a while.

Garret’s so much taller and bigger than me that he makes the room look even smaller. And ifIthink it looks pathetic, I’m sure he’s thinking it looks even worse. “Okay. You’ve seen my room. Let’s go.”

“Is this your mom?” He picks up a photo from an open shoebox on the desk. I go over and take a closer look.

“Yeah, that’s her. Her name was Julie. Well, Julia was her real name but she went by Julie.”

“You look just like her. How old are you here?”

I take the photo from him. “That was my thirteenth birthday. Frank took this. My mom had no idea it was my birthday. That’s why she doesn’t look too excited, not that she ever looked excited.”

I set the photo back in the shoebox, which is full of old photos. “Frank must have been cleaning out his closet or something. I’ve never seen these.” I pick up a few more photos and flip through them. They’re mostly ones of me in high school, but there’s also one of my mom in college. She looks completely different than I remember. She’s wearing her college sweatshirt, standing next to a much younger and healthier Frank. She looks happy and normal and even more like me.

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