Love and Other Words Read online

  Elliot and I trudged over a sand dune, standing at the top and staring out at the ocean. “Your dad intimidates the hell out of me.”

  I laughed. “Because he’s tall?”

  “Tall,” he agreed, “and quiet. He has the commanding-presence thing down.”

  “He just says a lot more with his eyes than with his mouth.”

  “Unfortunately for me, I don’t speak Danish Eyeball.”

  I laughed again and looked at Elliot’s profile as he stared out at the crashing waves.

  “I didn’t know he smoked,” he said.

  “Only a couple times a year. It’s his private luxury, I guess.”

  Elliot nodded, blurting, “Okay, look. I got you a Christmas present.”

  I groaned.

  “Ever-gracious Macy.” With a smile, he began walking back down the other side of the sand dune toward the beach, and only now did I notice a small wrapped package tucked beneath his arm. We navigated through thick sand, driftwood, and small hills of seaweed before reaching a tiny alcove, mostly guarded from the wind.

  Sitting, he shifted the package into both hands, staring down at it. From the shape, I could tell it was a book. “I didn’t expect you to get me anything,” he said, nervously. “I’m always hanging out at your place on the weekends you’re here, so I feel like I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” I worked to tamp down the emotion I felt that he got me a book. Not just because it’s what we did together – read – but because of what I’d told him last night, about Mom, and gifts. “You know you can always come over. I don’t have siblings. It’s just me and Dad.”

  “Well,” he said, handing me the package, “maybe that’s sort of why I got this.”

  Curious, I tore open the paper and looked down. I nearly lost the wrapping paper to a brutal gust of wind.

  Bridge to Terabithia.

  “Have you read it?” Elliot asked.

  I shook my head, pulling my windblown hair out of my face. “I’ve heard of it.” I saw him exhale quietly in relief. “I think.”

  He nodded, and seeming to be more settled, bent to pick up a stone to throw into the surf.

  “Thank you,” I told him, though I wasn’t sure he heard me over the roar of the ocean.

  Elliot looked up and smiled at me. “I hope you like it as much as I did. I sort of feel like I could be your May Belle.”

  now

  thursday, october 5

  M

  y phone vibrates in my messenger bag on the bus, conveniently waking me only a block from my stop.

  I pull it out, realizing that it’s nearly two in the morning again and I’m staring down at Viv’s little face on the screen.

  “Viv, you’ve learned technology so quickly!” I say, standing to pull my bag over my shoulder and make my way unsteadily down the narrow bus aisle.

  Sabrina laughs on the other end. “I totally ganked your phone when you went to order food, and changed my profile pic. Your passcodes are so adorably predictable.”

  I growl, trying to be annoyed, but really, only two people would know the four-digit pin I use for nearly everything: Sabrina and Elliot. It’s my lucky number, fifteen, repeated.

  “I’ll change it,” I tell her, thanking the bus driver with a smile he ignores as I step down and onto my street.

  “Don’t,” Sabrina cautions. “You’ll forget it.”

  “I’ll have you know I’m great with numbers.”

  Silence greets me on the other end of the line, and I amend, “At least, the math kind of numbers, when they’re right in front of me and I have a pencil.” I stare up the steep hill I still need to climb before I can be in bed. “Did you call just to harass me? What are you even doing up?”

  “I’m feeding the baby, obviously. I assumed you’d be on your way home. I called to check up on you. You fled yesterday.”

  Nodding, I begin my slow trudge uphill. The air is dense with moisture, and the incline, after the day I had, feels nearly vertical. “Elliot caught me on the sidewalk.”

  “Figured that when he sprinted out of there.”

  “He wasn’t super happy with me for, you know, losing touch.”

  I hear her quiet scoff. “‘Losing touch’?” she repeats. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  Ignoring this, I say, “He tracked me down again today. He broke up with his girlfriend last night after seeing me.”

  Sabrina coos through the line, and I stop walking.

  “What is that noise you’re making?” I ask.

  “It’s sweet, that’s all.”

  “You’re on his side?”

  Her tiny beat of silence communicates the magnitude of her disbelief. “You’re telling me there was absolutely no swooning when he told you that?”

  “You just don’t like Sean.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the first guy who’s managed to last beyond three dates; of course I like him. He deserves my esteem for beating that record.”

  I am so tired, I can feel the unreasonable coming out. Tight defensiveness rises up in my chest, kick-starting my pulse. “Okay, let me clarify: you don’t want me to marry Sean.”

  “Macy, honey, I don’t want you to marry Sean – yet – that’s true. But that’s unrelated to me also wanting you to reconnect with Elliot. I adore you, you know this, but you’ve told me what it was like when your mom died. How hard you worked to keep everyone out or at arm’s length – a can of worms we could totally open up, if you have the time —”

  “Sabrina.”

  “My point is that you could never shut out Elliot. He’s your soul mate. You think I don’t know that?”

  I nod, walking again. I’ve been on my feet for so long that my toes are numb in my shoes. I’m essentially just shuffling slowly uphill. “I’m so tired.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says gently.

  “And there’s something else,” I say, hesitating.

  “Yeah?”

  “He didn’t know about my dad.” The truth of that one still stings.

  Sabrina gasps. “What?”

  “I know. That part’s all my fault, I get that.” I rub my face. “I just assumed he would have heard about it… through the grapevine.”

  She’s gone quiet, and it’s the quiet that nearly breaks me because, holy hell, I am a monster. Sabrina must be thinking for the thousandth time that I am dead inside.

  “You’d be fine if his parents died,” she begins slowly, “and he didn’t at least try to get in touch with you?”

  Miss Dina’s warm eyes and soft face with deep dimples flicker through my thoughts, sending a spike of pain through me. “I know, I see your point.”

  Sabrina’s silent again; I hate having this conversation over the phone. I want the reassuring presence of her on the couch next to me.

  “I’m not sure Elliot and I could just be friends.”

  She huffs out a breath. “I think it’s worth a try.”

  Would I even be able to stay away? If I’m honest, wasn’t part of the appeal of moving back here to be closer to what he and I once had, somehow?

  “You really think it’s a good idea for me to reconnect with him?” I ask.

  “I’ve always thought that.”

  “How?” I hear how small my voice seems and pull out my keys, propping my phone between my ear and shoulder when I drop them to the dark porch. “We had breakfast and I bolted. I don’t have his number or address. No way does he have Facebook or Twitter or anything. Normal modes of stalking are out.”

  I can hear Sabrina’s pensive hum as I search blindly for my house key. “You’ll think of something.”

  then

  fourteen years ago

  From: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Date: January 1, 11:00 PM

  To: Elliot P.

  Subject: book

  Hi Elliot,

  Thanks again for Bridge to Terabithia and sorry for getting snot all over your shirt when I
was trying to talk about it. Maybe now on the computer I can explain what I was trying to say.

  I get why you gave me this book, and I just want you to know how thoughtful it was. I keep thinking about the first day I saw you in the closet, and how it’s sort of how Jesse hated Leslie for beating him in a race. I didn’t hate you, but I wasn’t sure I liked you, either. I guess it doesn’t matter because now it feels like you’re the person who understands me the best. Jesse and Leslie made up Terabithia as their sanctuary and when she died he brought May Belle there to be the new princess. Mom created this world of books with me, but without her I can bring you to the closet to share them instead.

  I read it again on the drive home and started crying all over again and I thought my dad was going to totally lose it. He probably had no idea what was going on. He was all What is with you, weirdo? So he just pulled over and kept breathing all deep and asking me what happened. I told him you gave me this sad book. I told him how much it made me miss Mom. And then he cried when we got home, at least I think he did. He’s always so quiet so I’m never sure.

  I hate being sad in front of him because it’s like he has this giant vault of sadness already and then he has to lock that all up just to take care of me. And when I think about it, I still have him, but he lost his whole world. Mom was the person he chose out of everyone and she’s gone. I don’t know. I think he doesn’t like to see me cry. But it was good to talk about her. I’m scared I’ll forget her. I miss her so much I need a new language for it.

  There I go again. Anyway, did you finish Ivanhoed? That book was ginormous I would be asleep in about five minutes. I read the first page when you went to the bathroom and was all what? I understood about a millionth of it. What’s it even about?

  Anyway, school tomorrow. Thanks again for the book. And for just letting me talk about it I guess.

  xo

  Macy

  PS No one here understands that I just want to be another girl at school not the kid whose mom died and who needs to be treated like she can break. Thanks for just saying stuff and not acting like it’s all taboo.

  From: Elliot P.

  Date: January 2, 07:02 AM

  To: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Subject: re: book

  Hi Macy,

  You’re welcome for the book. It made me cry the first time I read it, too. I know I didn’t tell you that, but I guess I should have.

  I’m sure your dad figured out why you were crying. Also, I think it probably makes your dad happy that you’re crying about it even if he’s sad that you’re sad. But I hope he’s not mad at me for making you cry. I mean it was the book… I wouldn’t want to make you cry because of me.

  I don’t think you’re weird or different because your mom died. I think you’re actually pretty cool, but it has nothing to do with whether or not you have a mom. You’re cool because you’re you. As an aside: you’re handling it pretty well as far as I can tell.

  Ivanhoe (no d) is pretty good. It’s set in the 12th century after the Third Crusade. (Some of the current idea of Robin Hood is based on a character, Locksley. But he’s not the main character.) I like the action and the style. I used to role-play a little with my friend Brandon in seventh grade so I guess that’s where the interest in 12th century England came in. If you’re still into Nicholas Sparks you probably won’t like Ivanhoe.

  See you,

  Elliot

  PS I didn’t mean that to sound condescending. Dad told me I can be like that and so I’m not sure if that was. I’m sure Nicholas Sparks is really good, just different than Sir Walter Scott.

  From: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Date: January 2, 8:32 PM

  To: Elliot P.

  Subject: re: book

  Hi Elliot,

  Nicholas Sparks is really really good. My friend Elena’s mom met him at a book conference and said he was super nice and way smart, too. I bet he’s read Ivanhoe (no d).

  What do you mean you and Brandon role-played? Like the dork guys at the park with swords and flags?

  xo

  Macy

  From: Elliot P.

  Date: January 2, 08:54 PM

  To: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Subject: re: book

  Hi Macy,

  Yes. Exactly like that. And also helmets and cardboard horses.

  Elliot

  From: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Date: January 2, 9:06 PM

  To: Elliot P.

  Subject: re: book

  I swear you make me laugh so hard. I know you’re kidding but I can totally picture you on a cardboard horse all “On guard!” and “Ivanhoe!”

  Macy

  From: Elliot P.

  Date: January 2, 09:15 PM

  To: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Subject: re: book

  I was serious. We really did role-play like that. It’s actually a very well organized community called The Nobles and there are battles and royalty and it’s really fun. But I’m sure you wouldn’t like it because there’s no soft focus kiss at the end.

  Elliot

  From: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Date: January 3, 6:53 PM

  To: Elliot P.

  Subject: Crazy!

  Hi Elliot,

  I’m pretty sure that was you being condescending last night, so here is me being mature and ignoring it.

  Want to hear something crazy? My friend Nikki got suspended for making out with a guy in the cafeteria today! I was all oh my god what is happening? I told Dad and he asked if I had kissed any boys and I was all no way! Who would I kiss at school they’re all losers!

  Anyway that was crazy!

  Macy

  From: Elliot P.

  Date: January 3, 08:27 PM

  To: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Subject: re: Crazy!

  My friend Christian got suspended last year for building a rocket in shop. I’m not even sure where he got the fuel but it totally flew through the window and hit a car in the parking lot. It was awesome.

  So you don’t hang out with guys at your school?

  Elliot

  From: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Date: January 4, 7:32 AM

  To: Elliot P.

  Subject: re: Crazy!

  I do Doug and Cody have been in school with me since first grade so we are sorta close but kissing close? Uh no they’re nice but I think I’ll probably meet a college guy at some point because the guys at my school are all into video games and skateboards and Danny (another friend) totally tried to touch my butt once at a dance but I was all I don’t think so.

  Macy

  From: Elliot P.

  Date: January 4, 07:34 AM

  To: Macy Lea Sorensen

  Subject: re: Crazy!

  Macy,

  Punctuation is your friend.

  Elliot

  now

  thursday, october 5

  L

  iz Petropoulos, what a trip.

  She’s medium height, curvy, and has the most amazing skin. Also, no fewer than four times have I told her how much I covet her cheekbones. She’s a smiler, saying hello to everyone who walks in the doors to the Mission Bay building and stopping anyone without a badge, beckoning them to sign in.

  I raise my badge as I do every morning. Thankfully she was on break yesterday when I burst in, frazzled after my non-breakfast with Elliot, but today she smiles with a little glimmer in her eyes, like she knows more now than she did the last time I saw her.

  “Well, hello, Liz Petropoulos,” I say, approaching her, dropping any prete
nse.

  She hesitates only a beat before saying, “Hi, Macy Sorensen,” without having to check my badge. As I get closer, she smiles again. “Boy, have I heard a lot about this Macy person over the past seven years. And to think she’s been the nice, new Dr. Sorensen complimenting my cheekbones.”

  “Guess Elliot and George should give up and let us get married,” I say, and she laughs. It’s a round, delighted sound.