Chapter 36 - A Million Rainbows

“Mrs. Donavan says if it snows there won’t be school tomorrow … and we can’t have pizza.” Charlie was heartbroken over this.

Apparently, they were supposed to have a pizza party, including a movie and popcorn, to celebrate the hundredth day of school.

I turned the key. “Yeah, sorry, kiddo. I think she might be right about that.”

The predicted total accumulation for the incoming storm was over a foot: school would be canceled.

I lived for snow days. Staying up and sleeping in for as long as I wanted—there was nothing better than that. And tomorrow was Friday, which meant a snow day would give us a three-day weekend.

I pushed open the door, letting Charlie in ahead of me. She was being slow and grumpy.

“Hey, maybe we can order a pizza tonight,” I said.

Charlie sprang around to me, her eyes bright with happiness.

“All right, but you’ll have to be on the lookout. Okay? The first snowflake you see—and I’ll place the order.” This pizza was going to bankrupt me, but it was for Charlie, so it was worth it.

Charlie nodded a smile, then shot ahead into the kitchen screaming, “Mommy!”

I shrugged off my coat and placed it over the back of the chair, dropping our backpacks on the floor.

The table was a mess. It was covered in clothes and a random assortment of odds and ends: a box of Band-Aids, a hammer, a jar of pennies—things that made more sense for a junk drawer.

But even among the clutter, my eyes zeroed in on what was new: the short stack of large envelopes sitting next to Mom’s coffee mug. They were addressed to me.

I could usually get the mail before Mom. Usually.

She was known to occasionally make the trip downstairs.

Because sometimes I would forget, or we would come home too late. Or what was becoming more and more common these days, we would be at Kyle’s.

But today I had meant to get the mail, and the empty mailbox had tipped me off, alerting me that Mom might have gotten to it first.

Four college acceptance letters sat on the table. Unopened. The large envelope packets made it obvious that’s what they were, but I had already received the notifications via email, so it wasn’t news to me. I was still excited to open them and read the actual letters. And I wanted to show Kyle because I hadn’t told him yet.

“You’re leaving?” asked Mom, her voice faint and wounded. She leaned with a shoulder against the fridge, waiting for my answer.

I reached and pulled off Charlie’s winter hat as she passed between us, her hair spraying wildly from the static electricity. I patted it down and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the living room, hoping she would go watch TV so Mom and I could have this conversation without her innocent eavesdropping ears listening in.

“I don’t know,” I said to Mom, keeping my tone even. “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

“You’ve decided to apply to four out-of-state colleges without telling me,” she said, her voice as smooth as mine, but the undertone was thick with accusations.

No. Eight colleges, Mom.

“They’re not that far,” I said.

They were all in Massachusetts, and they were all an easy train ride away, so not as far as they might seem to her. The abundance of public transportation in and around the city of Boston was the exact reason I had chosen them. “Mom, those are acceptance letters. You should be happy for me.”

Mom nodded, her throat, tightening as she swallowed. “Why am I just finding out about this?”

I had to take a big, lung-filling-to-capacity breath before answering her. “I don’t know why.” I lifted my shoulders, holding them high with disbelief. “Because this has been my dream for a long time, Mom. A really long time. It shouldn’t be news to you.”

My eyes burned hot with tears; I was infuriated … so angry and hurt.

“Brianna, we can’t even afford those schools.”

I laughed. The fury in my veins drying to ash, my will and hope, invariably snuffed out by Mom. “Yeah, I know we can’t afford them. You don’t think I know that? Look, you don’t have to worry about it. I didn’t tell you because it’s not your problem—I’ll figure it out.”

Mom pushed a strand of strawberry curls behind her ear. Her hair was a mess. She was a mess, wearing a ratty T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants under her robe. She closed the front of it and crossed her arms at her chest. “If you’re leaving, then I need to know.”

I pulled in a breath to try and stifle the tears that were threatening in my eyes. “I’m not. I’m not leaving, so you can stop worrying. I’m going to stay here in this shitty apartment for the rest of my life. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

Mom looked away. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

Charlie ran into the kitchen. She tugged on my shirt. “Bree, it’s snowing!”

I dried my eyes and smiled at her. “Yeah, okay. Just a minute.” I grabbed my backpack from the floor, removing my phone from the front pocket. “I’m gonna go get some homework done,” I said to Mom. “We’re ordering pizza for dinner.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder and reached for the stack of envelopes on the table.

Mom stopped me, picking them up instead. “These are good schools,” she said as she shuffled through them, her voice imbued with regret. “And they’re all acceptances?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Of course, they are. You were always so smart, even as a little girl.” Mom smiled, a shadow of a memory darkening her big blue eyes. “You used to want to be an astronaut. Do you remember that?”

“Faintly,” I said, a feeble laugh in my throat. “I guess I had my head too far in the clouds, even back then, huh?”

Mom reached and touched my ear, brushing a finger over one of the diamond earrings Kyle had given me. She let her hand fall without saying anything and lifted an envelope to me. “Can I see?”

I shook my head. “There’s no point. I’m not going. I wouldn’t leave Charlie, Mom. I just wanted to try, that’s all.”

“Let me see.” She pushed the envelope into my hands. I blew out a tired sigh and took it. I opened the letter from Boston University, handing it to Mom.

Tears poured from her eyes as she looked it over. “What would you major in?” she asked, handing it back.

“Business. Probably.”

Mom cocked her head. “I would have thought English … you’re a natural. You did an amazing job editing my book.”

My breath caught. “I didn’t think you looked at it.”

Mom had never even acknowledged the Christmas gift I had given her: her book fully typed and edited and saved on a USB drive.

She nodded. “I did. I sent it to my agent. She liked it. She’s shopping it around, and she’s hopeful she’ll find a buyer.”

I smiled at the good news. News that should carry so much hope with it. But knowing Mom, she would just wash it down a bottle. “She will, Mom. It’s your best work. You might even be able to buy yourself a house. All on your own,” I said, trying to drive that notion into her head.

“My credit’s rotten,” she said with a weak laugh.

“Hey, keep writing and you won’t need credit.”

Mom laughed, then she immediately broke down crying. “I have an amazing daughter.”

She placed her hands on my shoulders, her face streaked and wet, tears running over her lips as she smiled. She tried to pull me to her, but I wasn’t budging. She stepped closer and wrapped me in a hug, my arms stiff to my sides.

“I’m sorry, Brianna,” she whispered.

I shrugged because I didn’t know what she was apologizing for. I was crying because I wanted her to actually be sorry, and words weren’t enough anymore.

“I gotta call for pizza,” I said, backing away.

I left Mom in the kitchen and went into the living room and sat down next to Charlie on the couch. She was watching Frozen. Had put the movie on all by herself this time.

She moved to my side, lifted onto her knees, and wrapped her small arms around me. I hugged her back, wishing I could stop the dumb tears. I hated crying in front of Charlie.

“Bree,” she said, “it’ll be okay.”

Charlie attempting to comfort me was breaking my heart—it was so unfair.

I squeezed her tight. “Yeah, I know,” I said, taking a breath and wiping my eyes with my sleeve before letting her go. “I’m sorry, Charlie. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Charlie smiled. She wasn’t crying or being sad with me. “I’m not worried about you,” she said.

“Good.” I let out a small laugh. I never really knew what Charlie was thinking. It would be so much easier if she were even just a little older, then I could talk to her, ask her all my probing questions without worrying about damaging her precious developing mind. “Why aren’t you worried?” I asked, deciding that question was safe enough.

She reached and touched the tattoo on my wrist. “Because you’re a badass.”

I laughed. Such a strong word coming from Charlie’s cute little lips caught me off guard. “That’s sweet, Charlie.” I squeezed her in a hug. “I taught you a bad word, though, so don’t say that one at school, okay?”

She nodded in my arms.

I let go and patted her crazy curls. “I love you, Charlie.”

She mimicked me and patted my head, making me laugh again. “I love you, Bree.”

“So tell me your mom’s story,” said Kyle.

“Well, I don’t really know my mom’s story. I just know my story and how it pertains to Mom’s.”

“So tell me that story.”

I blew an anxious breath across my room, directing it away from my phone.

I was keeping my voice low because I wasn’t sure if Mom was awake. Charlie was in the room with me. It was only eight o’clock, but she’d passed out early, tired and stuffed from all the cheese pizza she’d devoured.

The snowstorm that raged outside, and the several inches that had already accumulated on the ground, ensured Kyle and I were stuck apart for the night, and we had to settle with talking on the phone.

“There’s not a whole lot to tell,” I said, answering him. “She’s suffered from depression, probably her whole life, and instead of trying to get better, she makes it worse with alcohol and whatever pills she’s taking.” I paused for a second, sifting through some memories, realizing that wasn’t the whole truth. “She wasn’t always so bad, though. I have some good memories of Mom. Charlie doesn’t have those. That’s why I try to do what I can to create some for her.”

“And your dad … you said you never really knew him, right?”

I pulled my blankets up to my chin. The wind was rattling my window. The window was doing a pretty poor job of keeping the chill out. “Yeah, I don’t even remember him much. He was in the picture for a few years when I was little. Then he was kind of just gone. He and my mom were married for a couple of years. I have his name. She doesn’t talk about him much, but I know it was hard for her when he left. I don’t think she’s ever gotten over that.”

“Do you think you’d ever want to try and contact him?”

A bitter laugh pushed from my throat. “No. I don’t want to contact him. One half-ass parent is enough for me, thank you.” I fell quiet because I didn’t want to talk about Mom or my “dad” anymore.

Kyle sensed that and shifted the topic. “So how have the groceries been working out?” he asked. “Is it enough?”

He had loaded money onto my prepaid debit card, and he had set up an account with the local grocery store so I could order groceries online. A thirty-five dollar minimum was required to have your groceries delivered, so that’s how much he was spending on us every week. It wasn’t very hard to stretch those thirty-five dollars, and it was more than enough to make sure Charlie had something to eat for dinner every night.

Kyle had made the offer because he realized it was big and that we needed it, but I don’t think he knew just how much of a relief it was to have that worry taken away.

“I can’t thank you enough for the groceries,” I said, feeling a little weird talking about it, but I was incredibly grateful, and I wanted him to know.

“Hey, yeah, no problem,” he said, hearing the sincerity and perhaps a bit of shame in my voice. “Bree, you and me, we’re a team. We help each other out. That’s all it is. You don’t even have to say thanks. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Kyle drew in a sharp breath. “So, while we’re on tough, uncomfortable topics, do you want me to tell you what happened with Lyndsay?”

“Did you call her?” It had been a few weeks. Kyle hadn’t mentioned Lyndsay since New Year’s, and I hadn’t asked about her again.

Lyndsay finally seemed to be losing steam. Apparently punching me in the face was what she had needed to do, and she wasn’t bothering me as much anymore. I completely got that. I wanted to punch myself in the face every time I thought about Lyndsay.

I took a moment to steady myself; talking about Lyndsay and Kyle was always awkward. “Go ahead, tell me,” I said, just wanting to get it over with.

He cleared his throat. “So no, I never called her. I talked to her at school today. She told me she was seeing someone else, and she asked me to back off and leave her alone. That was pretty much the gist of the conversation.”

“So it didn’t help?”

“Not really.” Kyle sighed. “I don’t know. It makes me feel like shit because Lyndsay looked like shit. And if that’s my fault, well … it sucks, you know? But I don’t think there’s anything I can do at this point.” He blew a long, weary breath into the phone.

He was upset. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had been worrying they’d been the cause of Lyndsay’s collapse.

“Are you okay?” I asked, wanting to help, but not knowing how in this situation.

“Ah, yeah. I’m fine. I just feel bad about dragging it out for so long with her, that’s all. It was kind of selfish, you know?”

Sadie’s comment about how Lyndsay had cheated on Kyle was ringing in my head. I had never mentioned it to him because it just seemed cruel, and I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell Kyle something so awful. I wasn’t sure, but I got the feeling he didn’t know about it, and if he did, then he had kept it from me for his own personal reasons.

But now I was wondering if maybe I should tell him. It seemed unfair that he should shoulder all the blame for their broken relationship.

“Well, Kyle, it’s not like Lyndsay was so selfless when you guys were together, right?” I said, deciding to navigate these murky waters carefully.

He was quiet for a second. “You mean because she kept breaking up with me?”

I hesitated. “Yeah …” I said, holding onto the rest because I still wasn’t sure if I should tell him.

But Kyle heard the unease in my voice. “What, Bree?”

I sighed.

“Just tell me,” he said.

“Yeah, okay. Um … so it was something Sadie told me at the New Year's Eve party. About Lyndsay. She said there were times when you and Lyndsay were broken up, that Lyndsay was with other guys.”

Kyle was quiet for a long minute, his voice, dry and brittle when he spoke. “You gotta believe me when I tell you that it’s over between me and Lyndsay, but shit, that still kind of hurts …”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

Kyle sighed into the phone. “Hey, so yeah. I’m done talking about Lyndsay. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yeah, okay. I just want to say one more thing first.” I didn’t wait for him to give me the go-ahead. “Um … she’s crazy for doing that to you, Kyle. Absolutely crazy.” I shook my head in my dark room, trying to wrap my mind around the absurdity. “Lyndsay reminds me of my mom. She’s in self-sabotage mode. That’s all it was. No one in their right mind would ever cheat on you … or break up with you.”

“Is that so?” asked Kyle. He was smiling. I could tell he was.

I smiled back. “Yeah, Kyle. You’re pretty amazing. And I wish you were here to warm me up because my room is freezing.”

“I can go grab my skis.”

“You’d ski to me?”

“Yeah, I’d ski to you. Fly to you. Swim to you. Whatever it takes to get to you, Bree.”