Remember Me by Estelle Laure

Author:Estelle Laure
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

The vortex opens in the side of the bus and I stand up, leave them there talking to each other, and I leap for the snow.

iii

A dark room.

I’m disoriented for at least a minute, standing in the doorway trying to figure out when and where I am. I hear the rumble of Adam’s truck as he leaves my cul-de-sac. I am drunk or at least buzzed enough I’m having a lot of trouble maneuvering around in the dark.

My cul-de-sac.

222 Tewa Ct.

Owl Nook, NM 87212

Eunice’s head pops up from between my parents’ feet and she lets out a brief growl. She knows it’s me, she’s just annoyed that I interrupted her sleep.

I’m intoxicated by the smell of home as well as the small amount of tequila in my system. We were at Turtle’s for my fifteenth birthday and she had a bottle. I didn’t mean to get drunk but I’m such a lightweight that even though I only took a couple sips now I’m frozen, trying to understand what my house really smells like, how it can feel like my whole family filtered through a sense. Dog smell, sage, something citrus-like, old whiffs of palo santo. Nothing smells like this. Nothing will ever smell like it again. I want to bottle it, inject it, inhale it and store it in my lungs for later use.

The covers shift.

“Come here, baby,” Mom says, her voice muffled by sleep and the sheets near her mouth. “You’re creeping me out standing there like that. I thought you were a ghost or something.”

“Sophia,” Dad says to Mom. “What the fuck?”

“Shut up, Danny,” she says. “It’s Blue.”

“Oh.” He faces away from her.

Mom opens the blanket. I probably smell like alcohol and teen desire hormones or whatever, but I take off my pants and slide in next to her. Her body is warm and lean but squishes against my back. “You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“No.”

“Because if there is something I should know about, you know you could tell me.”

“No.”

“Well, did you have a good birthday?”

“Yeah.”

“You were with Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did anything happen?”

“Why would anything happen?”

“I don’t know. It seems like something is going to happen. You are spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah. Boys and girls can be friends without it being romantic.”

“Not this boy and this girl. I think he loves you.”

It thrills me to think Mom has some insight into the situation that I can’t fathom. I’m just stuck watching everything Adam does lately, trying to analyze every look he gives me, pretending I’m not doing any of those things because apparently that’s what boys like. Wanting something, someone this badly is exhausting in every way. I hope my mom is wise enough to see something clearly that I only suspect to be true.

“You think that because you had a ping,” I say. “Sometimes pings are wrong. Adam and I are just friends.”

Dad moans and shifts positions.

She sniffs the back of my neck. “I smell a lie,” she says.

“I’m not lying.” My tongue is thick in my mouth.

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