And then there’s a crack in his façade. My feet stop before him, his arms catching me, his fingers fumbling for mine, teasing the ends, never quite holding on completely.
“What?” I ask, every drop of elation in my body from before now exchanged for dread.
“I’m moving to Iowa,” he says, and all I hear is the humming of the blood passing along my eardrum. The color is gone from my body, and the strength is failing my legs. “I know. God, Kens, I’m so sorry. To tell you now…this way…after your night—”
“Why?” I cry, holding my fist to my mouth. I hold it there for several seconds, my lip quivering underneath, until the tingling in my lip is so strong that I know I won’t be able to hide how this is all making me feel.
“Kens…it’s all been too much. It’s just…it’s too much for me, for my mom. And Andrew. We’re underwater with the house, but if we sell it, the bank has agreed to wipe the slate clean. My mom is going to look for something cheaper, maybe an apartment. And then the extra money from her check will pay for my grandpa,” he’s speaking so fast; his words don’t even make sense.
“What happens in Iowa? Why can’t you stay here?” I take a step back, my feet pounding the pavement like a child. I’m embarrassed how it looks, but I’m so afraid of what this means. I’m losing Owen. I just got him, and already…he’s gone.
“My uncle lives there. My dad’s brother? He owns a print shop, and I’m going to work for him. I’ll be able to send some money to Mom, and I’ll be able to save for college. The shop isn’t much right now, but he says in a few years, he’ll leave it to me, retire. I…I could make that place into something maybe. There’s a great school there for Andrew, and he’ll be away from this…at least for a little while. When my mom gets settled, maybe if she’s able to find a place big enough, he’ll move back,” Owen says.
He’ll move back.
I keep my head to the side, my eyes piercing him, my nostrils flaring. Owen can’t say anything to take this feeling away, and the longer he stands there, his arms to his sides, his expression just as broken as my heart, the more I want to cry.
“I have a few weeks,” he says. “Tonight, let’s celebrate you. I don’t want to think about the other stuff anymore.” He steps to me in small movements, treating me like a deer caught in the sights of his gun. Owen…he’s the hunter. And I am dead, my heart broken and time no longer relevant.
Chapter 21
We haven’t talked about Iowa again. It’s coming. I can tell. Owen’s mom had a realtor to the house on Monday after school. I walked by them at the table on my way up to Owen’s room. Owen and me—we never mentioned it.
On Tuesday they told Andrew their plan. He’s about as happy about it as I am. I came over when they were sitting in the living room, after dinner. Andrew walked out in the middle of their talk saying, “I fucking hate Iowa!”
We passed each other through the doorway; Andrew never looked at me.
I understand. I fucking hate Iowa too.
Today, he’s packing his room. He’s been working on it a little at a time. Owen stayed late at school for a test, still catching up from the days he didn’t go. I’ve been here at his house…waiting for him. I’ve been stuck to him like glue, not wanting to miss a single second of the time we have left.
“Hey,” I say, leaning on Andrew’s doorway. He drops a book in a box and puts a lid on top, sliding it into a corner. “Seems like a waste of space. You should probably pack more in that box than just a book.” I’m trying to be light, but neither of us is feeling it.
“I shouldn’t be packing at all,” Andrew says, his mouth twists into a reluctant smile, his shoulders shrugging. I move into his room and sit down on his bed next to him.
“At least you’ll have family there. Owen says the school is really good,” I say, picking up one of his sweatshirts and folding it over my lap. I don’t believe a word that’s coming from my mouth.
“You’re such a bad liar,” Andrew teases, leaning into me. I put my arm around him and lay my head on his shoulder. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend. I want one of those…here…in Woodstock. I want to get my license, then pick a girl up and take her to the Miller Movie House. I want to go to the Apple Fest with her, and win one of those big, stupid stuffed bears.”
“We love those big, stupid stuffed bears,” I sigh. Andrew’s shoulder rises with a small laugh. “You’ll have all that in Iowa too,” I say.