Page 28 of Fragments of the Lost
I remembered his laughter, the way her face was pressed against his as they hugged, and I felt something twist inside. “Is she confused about whether that position is still available?”
He laughed out loud this time, peeling off his boots. He leaned closer. “Not anymore,” he said. Then he kissed me quickly on the lips as we sat beside each other on the wooden bench.
“Hey,” he said, when we stood in our regular shoes, carrying the remaining gear back to the cars. “Thanks for not freaking out.”
I bristled, wondering what he really thought of me. Or if it was because he saw himself as older, somehow more mature. That he could kiss an ex-girlfriend on the cheek in greeting, calmly express his lack of availability, wish her well, see me watching and not saying anything—but know I’d be worried anyway. I told Hailey about it on the walk back to our car as they drove away, lingering on his comment.
“Thank God,” she said, “the spell is finally broken.” I remembered her holding an imaginary wand, asking for her friend back.
She cut off my look by circling her fingers around my wrist. “Look,” she said, “I’m just saying, it’s normal to see the good and the bad, you know? It’s not all sunshine forever.”
I nodded. Like I had finally removed the filter from my eyes. Seeing all the sides of Caleb, along with his past, and finding a way to work with it all together.
On the drive home, I kept replaying the image, filtered through red. The rush of snow and adrenaline. The curiosity making me pause and look again.
“Like, what do you evendoat sleepaway camp?” I asked, staring out the window.
Hailey erupted in laughter. “Oh my God. You’re doing it. You’re totally freaking out.”
“About what?” Julian asked.
Hailey did not catch the look I gave her in the rearview mirror. The one that saidMy brother does not need to know any of this, oh God, please don’t.But Hailey was up for any sort of conversation with Julian, even one that included me and my boyfriend.
“Caleb ran into his ex on the slopes. Some girl from sleepaway camp.”
Julian frowned, cutting his eyes to me. “That so?” he asked.
“Oh my God,” I said. “Hailey, get with the eye-signal program already, huh?”
She smiled back at me. “Let’s see, sleepaway camp. They hike,” she said, holding up a finger. “And swim in lakes. And sleep in tents or cabins. And get generally filthy. And have subpar water pressure and soap. Everyone’s kind of gross. I’m surprised they were even able to recognize each other.”
I laughed, and even Julian smiled. “Do you want me to drop you home, or are you coming back to our place, Hailey?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes, and didn’t need to turn around to imagine the glow of her expression. The way he’d spoken just to her, using her name, smiling at her joke. “Your place, please,” she said, not even trying to mask the excitement in her voice.
—
Now, I think back to that letter I found in his book, wondering if it could’ve come from her. This Ashlyn Patterson. And if so, why Caleb kept it, if he truly didn’t care anymore.
Underneath the goggles and the ski poles is the helmet he wore for lacrosse in the spring. The thing I remember most is not his games, but the way he looked in the gear. With his face behind the helmet’s cage, it was hard to tell him apart from his teammates. They were all covered in shoulder pads, thick helmets, faces hidden behind masks. I could only recognize the different players when they faced away, catching a glimpse of the name printed on the jersey.
Buried deeper inside the bag are his shoulder pads and other pieces of protection, and then the lacrosse stick.
I pull it out, a trail of dust clinging to the base. The tape at the edge partly unwound, and still unwinding. The sticky part clinging to dirt.
—
It was early April, spring break, and I’d just gotten back from the Keys, five days with my parents and Julian and sun and snorkeling. Hailey was still in Puerto Rico, visiting her grandparents. Caleb had spent the whole time home, though.
The air felt crisp and welcoming back home. I could still feel the heat of the sun in my burnt shoulders, the fabric of my shirt rubbing at the raw skin underneath.
Mia answered the front door, still in her pajamas, even though it was noon. She hugged me around the waist, asked if I wanted to make necklaces. She had beads spread out all along the living room floor, organized into piles, by color.
I smiled, thinking she and Caleb shared the organization gene. “A little later,” I said. “Where’s Caleb?”
She pointed to the dark stairway, then led me up the steps, the way she liked to do it now. She threw open Caleb’s door without knocking, and announced, “Jessa’s here!”
Caleb was sitting on the edge of his bed without a shirt, like he’d just woken. He’d been staring out the window, his eyes narrowed from the light. His confusion turned to a smile, and he said, “You’re back.”
