He opens his door. “One hour.”
I get out, my heart lighter knowing I have an extra sixty minutes, which I can stretch to seventy before he’ll call. “Thanks, Dad.”
Shutting the car door, I look back at the house.
What?
The hairs on my arms rise. Iris is watching me from the second-floor window.
But she’s not in her bedroom.
She’s in mine.
2
Tyler lives down the road, so I get there in under a minute and knock on the door.
He opens up and his leaf-green eyes widen. “Ivy.” Reaching out, he tugs me into the tightest hug. His arms wrap around my back, and I sink into him. “Hey,” he whispers. “You okay?”
“Not really,” I mutter against his Ramones T-shirt.
“Come on.” His arms loosen but he doesn’t let go completely, his fingers sliding between mine as he leads me inside. “When did you get home?”
“A couple of minutes ago. I haven’t been in the house yet.”
He eyes me curiously as we walk up to his bedroom, his head turning back every second step. Even though his parents are at work, he leaves the bedroom door open. Rule one. If we break it, we’ll never be allowed to spend time together without a chaperone.
Neither of us will break it.
I let go of his hand and collapse onto his bed. His pillow is so soft, and it smells like him. It’s comforting and everything I need right now.
The bed dips beside me as Ty sits down. Running his hand through his surfer style chestnut hair, he asks, “Do you want to talk?”
I press against the ache in my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m not your dad or sister, Ivy. I’m not looking for comforting words. You don’t need to pretend you’re okay for me. Tell me how you feel.”
I roll from my side to my back so I can see him. “I feel lost, and I feel stupid for being such a wreck.”
“Babe, your mom died. Why do you feel stupid?”
Shrugging, I shake my head and swallow so I don’t cry. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to be more together. Don’t I have a reputation for having a cold heart?”
“No, that means you don’t cry when whatever boy band breaks up, not that you’re made of stone and don’t cry for your mom.”
I love that he doesn’t know the names of any relevant boy bands.
Iris has always been the emotional one. I’m the logical one. Unless something really affects my life, I’m not going to cry over it. What I rock at doing, though, is stressing and overthinking.
“Iris hasn’t cried once that I know of,” I tell him. “And all I’ve done is cry. It’s like we’ve reversed roles.” Dad and I arrived at their house eleven days ago, the day Mom died. Iris was like a robot. She got up, showered, dressed, and ate. She tidied and watched TV. Iris continued her routine as usual, but it was all in silence as if Dad and I weren’t there. She only started talking properly again this morning.
“Everyone handles grief differently.”
I look up at his ceiling. Everyone deals with all sorts of things differently; I just didn’t realize that Iris and I would walk through this totally out of character. We may look the same, besides her hair being about five inches longer, but we’re nothing alike. Now we’re swapping parts of our personality?
Sighing, I stare straight into his eyes and whisper, “I don’t know how to help her. I barely know her anymore.”
“You can’t fix it. You only have to be there for her. There’s nothing anyone can do to accelerate the grief process; you have to let it happen.”
I don’t like that at all. I like my control. If there’s a problem, I find a solution. I don’t handle it well when there’s nothing I can do.
He chuckles. “You’ll learn how to do that, I promise.”
Sighing, I blink rapidly as tears sting the backs of my eyes. “My mom is gone.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry.”
Get it together.
“Mom asked me to visit for the weekend last month,” I tell him.
“Ivy, don’t do this.”
“I told her I couldn’t because I was spending the weekend at the pool to prepare for a swim meet I missed because she died.”
“Ivy,” he groans. “You had stuff to do, and it’s not like that’s never happened before.”
I sigh into the sinking feeling in my gut. “Logically, I understand that.”
“There’s no way you could have known what would happen, babe.”
I’m not all that good at forgiving myself. Everyone else, sure, but not myself.
Ty shakes his head. “You can’t live up to the standards you hold yourself to. No one’s perfect.”
All right, I’ll give him that. But I constantly strive for perfect. The perfect grades, fastest swimmer, solid circle of friends, real relationships. I’m setting myself up to fail, I get that, and I would stop if I could.
“It feels like Iris is only back to visit. We haven’t lived together in six years.”
His fingertips brush my blond hair. “You’ll all adjust, I promise.”
We will but we shouldn’t have to. Mom was too young to die. Iris and I are too young to be without her. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”
“You don’t want Iris there?” he asks softly.
“No, that’s not it. Of course I want her with us. I wish she didn’t have to be, you know? So much has changed, and I’m not ready for any of it. Mom is supposed to be here. Who is going to take me prom dress shopping? She was going to scream when I graduate and totally embarrass me. Who will cry first when I try on wedding dresses or when I have a baby? There is so much that she’s going to miss. I don’t know how to do it all without her.”
I have Dad, but all those things won’t be the same without Mom.
“Ivy,” he says, brushing his fingers across my face and down my cheek. “She will be there for all of that and more.”
Yeah, only she won’t. Not in the way I need.
“Iris was in my room,” I say, changing the subject before I lose the control I’ve only just regained after yesterday.
“Okay…”
“She was watching me from my room when I left to come here.”