“That’s my sister,” I say.
They’re selling the house. Why are they selling the house? Why haven’t they told us?
“Oh, you’re the other one, then. Where are you going to—”
The other one.
“Excuse me,” I say, moving past her, up the walkway, toward the front door.
I turn the knob. Walk inside. Mae is sitting on the couch with Ben and Nate. They’re watching the National Geographic channel, and she smiles up at me, but then she stops smiling because she sees my face.
“What’s wrong?”
She’s on her feet, coming toward me.
Aunt Nora walks out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. I can smell Uncle Tony’s lasagna.
There are balloons. A cake on the table. Presents.
“I just met your Realtor,” I say.
Aunt Nora goes still.
“Realtor?” Mae’s face scrunches up.
I glance at Nate. He’s looking at his shoes. Avoiding my gaze.
Secrets. Lies. This whole family of betrayers.
Mae turns to Aunt Nora.
“I had no idea she was here,” Aunt Nora says. “Nothing’s certain. We were just getting an estimate—”
“Why would you sell the house?” Mae asks.
Mae’s voice is sharp enough to bring Uncle Tony out.
“Well…” Aunt Nora crosses her arms. Uncrosses them. Twists the towel in her hands. “The firm has offered me a promotion. An amazing opportunity.” She swallows. “In New York, actually.”
I just stare at my aunt. Her words gather speed, swell. Another wave.
“I haven’t given them a definite answer,” Aunt Nora says. “I thought we could have a family discussion and consider our options together.”
“But you must want to do it,” Mae says. “The Realtor’s outside.”
Uncle Tony shakes his head. “We just want to know what our options are.”
“When were you planning on telling us this?” I say.
And I know. They were going to wait for Mae to leave, so she couldn’t make the mistake of thinking about staying for me again.
“We wanted to wait until we had all the information we needed,” Aunt Nora says. Lies. “There was no reason to say anything yet. And it’s your birthday. Of course we won’t go—if we go—until you’re done with school. Not until August, at the earliest.” Aunt Nora comes toward me and I back up, against the door. Too close. She’s always too damn close. “And, Hannah, of course we want you to come with us. There are so many good schools there, or you could get a fun job. We could go to museums on the weekend—all sorts of things. A fresh start, honey. It’ll be good for all of us, I think.”
Cheer laced with guilt. Boy, do I know that sound.
Let’s try to be happy even though your parents are dead, okay?
“Best pizza in the country,” Uncle Tony adds.
Fuck pizza.
“But what about Jo? Hannah can’t have a sponsor so far away, can she?” Mae asks.
How To Build A House
Imagine a lot of sticks
Stack them
Set them on fire
Watch them burn
It was one thing to live with my aunt and uncle when Nate was sleeping here most weekends, when Mae was down the hall. But there’s no way they could want me to take up space in whatever tiny place they can afford to buy in Manhattan. Of course not. I’m just their junkie niece. They’re empty nesters who probably want to go have a fabulous New York life, not worry that I’m going to overdose in their guest bedroom.
For a second, I think about my grandparents—but no. They’re in a retirement community. You have to be over sixty-five to live there.
I don’t have any friends to crash with. And, yeah, I have money and could technically get an apartment on my own, but I don’t have a job or credit—who would rent to me? And even if someone did let me have a place, I’d have to be by myself. Ripe pickings for home invasion. I don’t even have a cat. Maybe I should get a cat.
I am about to be homeless. Not on the streets, but a person without a home home.
A homeless orphan.
A homeless junkie orphan.
“And in the summers, Gram and Papa will be at the Cape, so you two can go there if you don’t want to be in New York,” Aunt Nora continues. “And we’ll all be together for Christmas there, too.”
No one would let me live in the Cape house year-round. That’s for people who are trustworthy. Also, that would be super lonely and creepy, being up there all by myself.
Ben reaches for Mae. “Hey. I’ll be in Brooklyn with my family in the summers. It’s kind of perfect.”
Jenga.
That’s what happens inside me.
This news, this other freaking secret that Nate and Nora and Tony have kept to themselves for however long, it pushes me over and there is no getting up from this, from any of it, and I was just kidding myself, just kidding myself that I was clean, that I don’t need—
“Nah?” Mae slips her hand into mine. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay.”
I pull my hand from hers. “You think?”
My voice is a slap. She leans back, like she can feel the force of the words against her cheek. I throw open the front door, and it bangs against the wall, hard. I guess it’s all very dramatic—maybe I should have tried out for the school play.
There are concerned thises and thats as I step out the door, still holding my purse: “Honey, come back—” (Nora), “Hannah!—” (Mae), “Leave her alone, you guys!” (Nate).
I’m out the door. I hear Mae behind me and I just … fly. I’m running down the street, fast, throat burning, the cold spring night cutting into me. I am so out of shape, but I go and go and go. She calls my name, but I don’t stop. I won’t ever stop running away.
“Hannah! Stop! STOP, JESUS CHRIST, STOP.”
Mae’s desperation almost makes me slow down, but it’s not quite enough.
For once the train is there, waiting for me, and I slip in just as the doors are closing. I tap my card on the kiosk and nod at the driver, my breath coming out in great, heaving gulps. As I’m making my way through the car, holding on to the bars that hang from the ceiling for balance, I catch a glimpse of Mae, hands on her knees, panting. Do we lock eyes and have deep internal realizations as my train speeds away from her?
No.
I sit down on an empty bank of seats and hug my purse to me. I’m stuck in my hourglass, the sand falling over me, faster and faster. It’s already to my knees, and I haven’t even had a pill yet.
We pass Zaftigs, then Fenway, and soon we’re underground, Boston Common above us. I can feel myself checking out.
How much easier things would be for everyone without Just Hannah. Go to New York, go be an astronaut, go kiss a girl who doesn’t bite.
“Hannah?”
For one wild moment, I think it’s Drew and this will be like in a movie, where chance has brought us together and he will take me in his arms and everything will be okay and all I will smell is tea tree soap.
But the boy who called my name isn’t Drew. Tall, scraggly, unfortunate tattoo choices. Those insanely beautiful Nolan eyes.
“Eddie?”