“The Illustrated Man, right?” James says. “Brilliant.”
Shelby has to get Ben out of here. She slips on her boots and grabs her raincoat.
“It’s Burberry,” Ben says to James. “Who do you think gave it to her?”
“Let’s go for a walk,” Shelby says to him.
“I don’t want to go for a walk.” Ben takes a threatening step toward James. “I doubt very much that you understand Bambi,” he says.
“I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for what I did back then,” James says. “I acted like an asshole and I got what I deserved.”
“Really? Because it seems like you got Shelby.”
“Come with me.” Shelby grabs Ben’s arm, and they go downstairs. “I don’t know where I would have been without you.”
“You’d be right here with that guy.” Once out the door Ben sits on the stoop, and Shelby sits beside him.
“No. I wouldn’t. I’d be lost.”
“So you’re saying you’re in love with him? The guy that made me cry in fourth grade?”
“It was a bad year for everyone. And yes. I am. I really am, Ben. I don’t think I knew how to love anybody before.”
“Perfect,” Ben says. “You had to learn now.”
Shelby takes his hand and laces her fingers through his. “Do you think Ana wants the table?”
“It’s too old-fashioned for her. She hates anything with history.”
“She’s right,” Shelby says. “It’s a piece of shit. I’ll leave it for the next tenant.”
They both laugh. “Good thing Ida is dead,” Ben says. He glances at Shelby. “Do you miss Blinkie?”
“I miss everything,” she says. “I miss you.”
“But it’s him, huh? Fucking Jimmy.”
“He was there the night it happened. He’s been writing to me all along. That’s how I fell in love with him.” Shelby is sitting on Tenth Avenue in the clothes she slept in, so she’s especially grateful for the raincoat Ben gave her. She wears it all the time, and she suspects she’ll put it to good use in California. “What happened with Ana?”
“She wants bigger, better, more. She wants to move to a fancier house than the one we already have.” He shakes his head, as if trying to shake off his confusion. “We’re having a kid,” he says.
Shelby feels a twinge of jealousy, but only a little pinprick. “Ben, you will be a great father. I wish you were my father.”
“That’s perverted,” Ben says.
“I mean it. Everyone should have a father like you.”
“You don’t want to go back in time?”
Shelby laughs. “To when we were miserable?”
“Jimmy,” Ben says sadly. He gives her a sidelong look. “It was never going to be me, right?”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t be here without you.” Shelby hugs him so tightly that Ben laughs and backs off.
“I’m glad it all happened,” he says. “Even the bad parts.”
“There were bad parts?” Shelby says, and they laugh together. She hugs him one last time so she can listen to his heartbeat. She doesn’t want to see him walk away, so she turns and goes inside. Upstairs, James is at the table, eating spicy tofu.
“You hate Chinese food,” Shelby says.
“I might as well get used to it. How’s Ben?”
“He’ll be fine.” Shelby notices the fortune cookies on the table.
“How about you?” James asks.
Shelby strips off the cellophane. The crinkly sound reminds her of a wind chime. She cracks the cookie in half. She has never read a single fortune. She thought she knew what her future would be like, but as it turns out life is far more mysterious than she would have ever imagined.
What is behind you is gone, what is in front of you awaits.
“Shelby,” James says. “It’s a fortune cookie. You hate them.”
“Not this one,” Shelby says. “This is the one I was waiting for.”
CHAPTER
15
People in town don’t know each other the way they used to when Shelby was a girl. Everyone knew who she was back then, the girl who had an accident on Route 110. Now she’s just another stranger in town. No one says Shelby Richmond, you’re the one who almost killed your best friend, who spent years in your parents’ basement doing penance. You’re the girl who disappeared.
It’s August, the month when the orange lilies along the road are fading. Shelby recently bought her first car, a used Toyota 4Runner. She used part of the money her father gave her, her inheritance. This morning she headed out to Huntington on the Long Island Expressway. James went out the evening before so he could take his mother to dinner and present her with the cash he got when he sold his car. Shelby was nervous driving again, and her hands shook, but here she is. She wonders if she didn’t drive for all those years simply because she didn’t want to return to the scene of her crime. Certainly after she lost her mother, there’d been little reason to come back. Yet it’s the place she dreams about. In her dreams it’s always snowing, the road is always slick with ice.
Now that she’s here Shelby feels a tight knot of terror in the back of her throat, as if she were one of those women in horror movies who just keep unlocking the door even though they’re pretty damn certain there’s a monster on the other side. Shelby has decided to see Helene before they leave for California. It’s been more than ten years. People say if you face your worst fear the rest is easy, but those are people who are afraid of rattlesnakes or enclosed spaces, not of themselves and the horrible things they’ve done.
All of Shelby’s belongings have been packed up and sent on to the apartment they found on the university’s housing list. There’s a yard and a bedroom that’s bigger than her entire New York apartment. Shelby Richmond, who struggled to finish high school and spent three months in a psychiatric hospital, who assumed she would work in a pet store for the rest of her life, if she managed not to get fired, is going to veterinary school. She and James will spend the next few weeks traveling cross-country with the dogs, camping out in state parks along the way.
Last night Shelby stayed at Maravelle’s. Shelby and Maravelle became friends by accident, and by accident they’ve become family. Leaving Maravelle was hard, even though she promised to visit in the spring. Leaving Jasmine was equally difficult, especially when she started to cry. But it was Dorian who got to her, the way he hugged her. And it was Teddy, who wasn’t there, who sent her the message she needed most on a postcard.
Be happy, he’d written. You deserve it.
Shelby is driving along Route 110. This is where it happened, on the left side of the road. The asphalt used to dip into a hollow, but there’s a guardrail now. A bunch of plastic flowers has been tied to the metal with string. Shelby used to be so empty inside she could hold her hand over the flame of a burner on the stove and not feel a thing. She tried her best to destroy herself, but she’s still here. Her heart is beating, she can feel it sometimes, when she lies beside James, when she thinks about her life, the force inside her that wouldn’t let go.
In Shelby’s old neighborhood the trees are so big they meet in the middle of the street to form a bower. The new people are in her house and they’ve repainted; it’s yellow, a color Shelby’s mom never would have chosen. Sue Richmond preferred the basics: gray with a white trim. Shrubs have been planted, and the driveway has been re-tarred. When Shelby climbed out her window to wander through town, she always avoided Helene’s street, except for the cold night when she and Ben sat under Helene’s window, and then again the day her mother insisted she drive her here. The first time she came to Helene’s house she was in second grade. They were best friends from the moment they met. Shelby noticed Helene’s house was smaller than hers, even though Helene had two older brothers. Helene’s father had made the basement into a bedroom for the boys, and Helene had an
upstairs bedroom all to herself. I’m the favorite, she told Shelby, who marveled at her confidence, even back then. Shelby was an only child and she didn’t feel like the favorite, not until her mother was dying. I never want to stop watching over you, Shelby’s mother had told her, and then she wondered why it had taken her so long to know she was loved.
Shelby parks across the street from the Boyds’. People still make pilgrimages to see Helene, but she certainly didn’t cure Shelby’s mother, although Sue said she felt healed after her visit. She said she could feel Helene’s spirit. Helene’s brothers have families of their own; it’s just her mom and dad who take care of her along with a series of volunteer caregivers who are still dedicated to Helene. Shelby has done the research on Helene’s injuries in the medical library at school. She knows that Helene’s vertebrae were broken, that her windpipe was crushed, and part of her skull was smashed. There was no oxygen to her brain for at least seven minutes. Helene will never come back. Shelby knows it’s true in theory, but she needs to make sure that a miracle is out of the question.
Bill Boyd is on his front lawn pulling weeds from the border of lilies. As soon as she spies him Shelby feels like turning the car around. He sent her candy on her birthday one year. He sent a card that said she could come visit anytime, but she never responded. It’s too late to leave. She’s already pulled over to the curb and the window is open and the dogs start barking when they see Mr. Boyd. He turns and stares at the 4Runner. Shelby can tell he’s squinting to see if he recognizes the driver. Clearly he doesn’t. How could he? Shelby’s a grown woman with a car filled with dogs, not the girl who used to sleep on a rollaway cot in Helene’s bedroom.
“Hey, Mr. Boyd.” Shelby waves. Helene’s father walks to the edge of the lawn, still staring. Zero recognition, so she calls out, “It’s me. Shelby.”
She half expects Mr. Boyd to cross the street and spit on the ground. As he approaches, she gets out of the car and steels herself for whatever happens next.
“Shelby? Is that you?” Mr. Boyd looks old. Shelby must have been in his house a thousand times, and yet she barely recognizes him. “You look exactly the same,” he remarks.
Shelby almost smiles. “No, I don’t.”
“You do!” Mr. Boyd gazes past her into the 4Runner. “Geez. You’ve got a lot of dogs, kiddo.”
“Only three.” Shelby laughs. It’s an insincere, nervous laugh. “I had four, but I lost one.”
“Maybe they need to pee,” Mr. Boyd says.
“They probably do.”
“Come on. You can let them out in the backyard.”
“Are you sure? They’ll pee on your grass.”
“That’s the point, Shelby. They look like they could use a run.”
Shelby clips leashes on Pablo and Buddy and lets them jump out. Then she lifts the General up. The General doesn’t need a leash. He’s a leader, not a follower.
“Any more in there?” Bill Boyd jokes. The General goes right over, as though Mr. Boyd were an old friend. “Hey there, pal,” Bill says.
Shelby follows Mr. Boyd and the General across the street, then up the driveway to the back gate. She feels dizzy. She’s not sure what constitutes a miracle. Will Helene rise from her bed? Will the roses on the wallpaper bloom and bees stream in through the windows? Shelby’s heart is beating so fast she stops in her tracks.
“It’s okay,” Mr. Boyd says when he sees her hesitation.
Pablo takes the opportunity to urinate on the wishing-well decoration at the side of the driveway. It’s where pilgrims drop little slips of paper with their wishes written down.
“Geez,” Mr. Boyd says. “He pees like a horse.”
“He’s a Great Pyrenees.” Shelby’s eyes are burning. “Mr. Boyd,” she says, and then she just clams up.
“It’s okay, Shelby. I know you’re sorry. I never held you accountable. Well, maybe that first night, but I think I went crazy then. Come on in the backyard.”
Shelby follows Mr. Boyd through the gate. She lets the dogs off their leads. They’ve been in the car all morning and are happy to explore. She still misses Blinkie, and sometimes, in the middle of the night, she thinks she feels him beside her.
“I always wanted a dog,” Mr. Boyd says.
“So did my mother. She got Buddy four months before she died. He’s the poodle. She made me promise I’d take him after she was gone.”
“Oh, I know Buddy,” Mr. Boyd says. “Your mom used to bring him with her to visit Helene.”
“I didn’t know that,” Shelby says.
“I’m sorry about your mom, Shelby. You couldn’t find a nicer lady.”
They are quiet for a moment, thinking about Shelby’s mother and Helene and how unfair the world can be.
“So what happened to you?” Mr. Boyd says. “Afterward.”
“I had a nervous breakdown. Then I moved to the City and worked in a pet store. Then I went to college. Now I’m moving to California to go to vet school.”
“Seriously? No kidding! That’s a surprise.”
“I know. To me, too.”
“I don’t mean it that way, it’s just that you were always so squeamish. I once had to take a splinter out of your foot after you girls walked around town barefoot. You screamed your head off. I thought one of the neighbors was going to call the police. Now you’re going to be doing surgeries. That is quite a switch.”
Shelby remembers the splinter incident. Mrs. Boyd gave her an ice-cream sandwich afterward, but she was crying so hard she couldn’t eat it. Now Diana Boyd is at the back door watching them.
Mr. Boyd waves to his wife. “She probably thinks the circus came to town and dropped off a dog act.”
“Let me get them back into the car,” Shelby says.
“I don’t mind them. They add some life. After the accident everything just stopped here. Helene’s in her bedroom, so her mom thinks she’s still here.”
“Maybe she is.”
“If you’re going to be in medicine, then you know what her situation is.” When Shelby makes a funny little sobbing sound, Mr. Boyd pats her on the back. “Don’t go choking on me now.”
“Do you think Mrs. Boyd would mind if I went in to see Helene?”
Mr. Boyd calls to his wife. “It’s Shelby Richmond. She’s here to visit Helene.”
“Shelby. Come on in.” Diana Boyd motions to her. “But not with those dogs.”
“I’ll throw a tennis ball around for them,” Bill Boyd says. Shelby looks at him, mutely. She feels a sort of terror inside her. Mr. Boyd misinterprets her hesitancy. “I’ll take good care of them.”
When Shelby goes inside, Diana Boyd hugs her. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I recognize Buddy out there.” They both gaze out the window to watch the poodle chase a tennis ball. “I used to visit her when she was getting her treatments and I’d take Buddy for walks when I could. At least a couple of times a week.”
Shelby is surprised by how little she knows about her mom’s day-to-day life.
Mrs. Boyd smiles wanly. “Your father had already taken up with that nurse.”
“He married her. They moved to Florida.”
“I know, dear. Mr. Boyd and I went to the wedding.”
“There was a wedding?”
“It was just a little gathering at the house before they moved. Patti made all the refreshments. They probably didn’t want to upset you by inviting you. You know, your mother came here to see Helene once a week. For a while she brought Buddy over every day.”
“She did?”
“She said Helene was like another daughter. Helene had spent so much time at your house growing up, and she always loved when your mom came by. Her whole face would light up. Sue was such a kind person. Kindness like that radiates, and Helene could feel it.”
“I know I should have come to see Helene before this,” Shelby says.
“I’ve thought about her every day since it happened.”
“We’ve had plenty of visitors. So I’m sure Helene hasn’t minded.”
As they head down the hall, Shelby can hear the pumping of the oxygen machine. Her heart is beating too fast and she tries to slow it to an even rhythm. There is the same wallpaper Helene chose when she was thirteen, with rosebuds that have never bloomed. Another volunteer is sitting beside Helene’s bed knitting, an elderly lady in a gray suit.
“Mrs. Campbell, this is Helene’s old friend, Shelby,” Diana says to the volunteer. “Sue Richmond’s daughter.”
“Well, isn’t this a good day with an old friend here to visit,” Mrs. Campbell says to Helene. “Don’t be afraid to talk to her,” she tells Shelby. “She loves when you do.”
Shelby can hear the thud of her own pulse. Helene is in bed beneath the white sheets. She was such a skinny, coltish girl, but now she’s heavier. Her hair is still beautiful, masses of thick auburn. Helene is facing the wall, staring at it. There are patterns of sunlight coming through the window. A shadow that looks like a rabbit, one that’s a square, another that looks like a garland of leaves. Shelby stands at the foot of the bed. For the first time in years she is not stuck in that moment inside the snow globe. She is right here.
“Helene,” she says. “It’s Shelby.”
Helene blinks.
“She knows you’re here,” Diana Boyd assures Shelby. “She definitely does.”
Shelby can hear the dogs barking in the backyard. Helene shudders.
“She never did like dogs,” Diana remarks. “Even as a little girl.”
But she did, Shelby thinks. She wanted a little Westie and cut out pictures from a magazine. “I think about you every day,” Shelby tells Helene.
“She appreciates that,” Diana says.
“I wish it had happened to me,” Shelby says. A broken sob escapes. Helene shudders again.
“She doesn’t like it when people are upset,” the volunteer warns Shelby. The volunteer who never even knew the real Helene.