Free Days Like This by Danielle Ellison Page A

my hair. “Remember when you were little, Cassie? We used to
drive to the beach and spend the whole day there, you and me. Remember?”
    I clenched my
jaw. “I remember.”
    “We should do
it again. Let’s go the beach, Cassie.”
    I shook my
head. “Mom, take your medicine.”
    She ignored
me, and looked past me into the distance. I could still see it all, and I knew
she could too. “There was a little shop we used to go to and we’d have ice
cream. I bet it’s still there—”
    “Mom—” I
started to walk away, because I could feel a bunch of stuff flashing through my
head. All the moments I clung to from the pretty days, and all the ones I
didn’t want to remember on the ugly ones.
    Mom held on to
my hand and kept me in place. “We should go again, Cassie, have one of those great
days.”
    I snapped. “You
know what I remember about those days? I remember we’d come home and I’d wake
up in the morning because you were bawling or too depressed to get out of bed.
And I remember missing school for days because I had to take care of you.” Mom
didn’t move, but I couldn’t stop all the wounds from bleeding out now that I’d
opened them.
      I was six when she’d lost me at the
circus; eight at my school play she didn’t come to; twelve at the movies where
she forgot me; fifteen when I found her in the middle of the night in the
bathtub, nearly drowning in her own bloody water and I called Graham at three
in the morning, barely able to form words. He’d held me while his dad drove us
to the hospital, and sat with me while we waited to see if she would live or
die. He waited all through the night, and into the next morning, and missed
school to be with me when we found out my mom was bipolar. He’d never let go of
my hand.
    “ And all the times I didn’t know if you
were going to live. That’s what I remember about those days.” Mom looked
horrified and dropped my hand. I pushed the pills toward her again. “So, take
your pill.”
    There were no
sounds from the living room. Which meant he was listening. He knew a lot of
this, he was here for it, but we’d never really talked about it. I’d never
wanted to. Mom took the pill and kissed my cheek, and when she walked away, I
glanced at Graham. He leaned against the beam he’d fixed and looked in my
direction. He seemed sad, and I wondered if he remembered it, too. I would’ve
never made it through those times without him.
     
     

15.
Graham
    THREE DAYS LATER and the wall
had new support beams. All that was left was insulation, dry wall, and paint.
Maybe two days of work and then I wouldn’t have to be in this house with them all
day. It wasn’t bad, but I was living a fantasy, and I knew it was only a matter
of time before all the walls came crashing down again. Walls that I didn’t want
to have to fix.
    I hadn’t
really spoken to Cass much. I came in, did my work, and left. She had never
told me about all the episodes with her mom. I remembered things, too. Sometimes
she wouldn’t show up for class, and when I’d get home from school, I’d watch
her house from my window to make sure lights were on. The car would be gone,
and they’d come home in the middle of the night or the next day. She never
talked to me about any of it, but I’d known things were happening with her mom.
She hadn’t wanted me to tell, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Or lose her.
    My phone
dinged. A text from Molly about dinner tonight. I responded and glanced back up
when Joyce squealed. “I love this song!” She yelled as she turned up Dean
Martin.
    Cass smiled
too from her place in the kitchen, and they both started singing along. I was
intruding. Then Mrs. H called my name and said, “You do the chorus.”
    “I’m working,”
I said, but the smile was on my face anyway. Cass smiled, too. Probably the
first real smile that I’d seen in days. I’d missed her smile, that smile, the
one that lit up a room.
    “Come on,
Graham Cracker—you know this