A World Without You by Beth Revis

Author:Beth Revis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-06-14T15:37:46+00:00

CHAPTER 30

Phoebe

I try not to look too hard at myself in the mirror. I never really figured out makeup, and I feel most at home in T-shirts and jeans, but I like to look nice. Put together, my grandmother would call it, although she wouldn’t say it about me now. Put together to Grandma was a button-down blouse and a skirt, not a navy blue T-shirt with an elephant on the front and jeans that are ragged at the bottom because my short legs have walked the hem off.

There was always something wrong with me, at least in Grandma’s eyes. It’s not like she hated me. But I would sit with my legs too sprawled, or I talked too much, or my hair was too short. Always something little, some point of contention that proved I wasn’t good enough.

Bo, on the other hand, was her golden child. “He needs more love,” she’d say, as if an extra hug and piles of compliments would make him better. Maybe they did. He was always happy around her.

I turn away from the mirror and open my jewelry box. It’s ancient, something I’ve had forever, made of heavy, paper-covered cardboard in shades of pink and purple. And even though it’s worthless, this box contains all my greatest treasures. When I open it, a little plastic ballerina spins halfheartedly. It’s supposed to play music too, but it’s long since lost its song.

At the bottom of the box, underneath the little silver ring my first boyfriend gave me and the monogrammed necklace I got for my sweet sixteen, is a blue velvet box. The hinges creak when I open it. I remove the folded-up paper that’s on the top without reading it. I know what it says. Given to me by Joseph on our wedding day. Grandma started doing that a year or two before she died, writing down the reason why the things she still had were significant. When she passed away, Mom and I went through her house, and we kept finding little notes like this. Some of them referenced people we didn’t know—Bought this when I went with Lauren to Connecticut—and some of them told us of a past we hadn’t known she’d lived—Mother gave me this when I broke my wrist, 1962. I loved discovering the hidden secrets behind the objects I had thought were junk. A paper fan was a souvenir from her brother when he went to Hawaii; a cheap plastic beaded necklace was the first thing I had ever given her, curled up beside her gold and diamonds. Mom, however, quickly grew tired of the little notes and eventually started throwing away things without reading them.

“They make you hang on to a past that isn’t yours,” she said, pointing to the pile of Grandma’s things that I’d squirreled away.

Grandma had given me the little blue box before she died, even though she’d already labeled it for after her death. I was in middle school, staying overnight at her house, and I was furious.

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