Never Never A Romantic Suspense Novel of Love and Fate

ColleenHooveristhe#1NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorofmorethantwenty-threenovels,includingItStartswithUs,ItEndswithUs,AllYourPerfects,UglyLoveandVerity.In2015,ColleenandherfamilyfoundedanonprofitcalledTheBookwormBox,abookstoreandmonthlybook-subscriptionservice.ColleenlivesinTexaswithherhusbandandtheirthreeboys.
TarrynFisheristheNewYorkTimesandUSATODAYbestsellingauthorofninenovels,includingTheWives.Bornasunhater,shecurrentlymakesherhomeinSeattle,Washington,withherchildren,husbandandhusky.ShelovesconnectingwithherreadersonInstagram.AlsobyTarrynFisher
THEWIVES
THEWRONGFAMILY
ANHONESTLIE
ForacompletelistofbooksbyTarrynFisherorColleenHoover,pleasevisittheauthors’websitesatwww.tarrynfisher.comandwww.colleenhoover.comNeverNever
ColleenHooverTarrynFisher
Thisbookisdedicatedtoeveryonewhoisn’tSundaeColletti.Contents
PART1
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PART2
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EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
AVERYSPECIALBONUSFEATURE
SILAS
CHARLIE
ARIESANDSAGITTARIUSINLOVE
EXCERPTFROMTHEWIVESBYTARRYNFISHER
EXCERPTFROMANHONESTLIEBYTARRYNFISHER
CONTACTTHEAUTHORSPART11
Charlie
Acrash.Booksfalltothespeckledlinoleumfloor.Theyskidafewfeet,whirlingincircles,andstopnearfeet.Myfeet.Idon’trecognizetheblacksandals,ortheredtoenails,buttheymovewhenItellthemto,sotheymustbemine.Right?
Abellrings.Shrill.
Ijump,myheartracing.MyeyesmovelefttorightasIscopeoutmyenvironment,tryingnottogivemyselfaway.
Whatkindofbellwasthat?WhereamI?
Kidswithbackpackswalkbrisklyintotheroom,talkingandlaughing.Aschoolbell.Theyslideintodesks,theirvoicescompetinginvolume.Iseemovementatmyfeetandjerkinsurprise.Someoneisbentover,gatheringupbooksonthefloor;ared-facedgirlwithglasses.Beforeshestandsup,shelooksatmewithsomethinglikefearandthenscurriesoff.Peoplearelaughing.WhenIlookaroundIthinkthey’relaughingatme,butit’sthegirlwithglassesthey’relookingat.
“Charlie!”someonecalls.“Didn’tyouseethat?”Andthen,“Charlie…what’syourproblem…hello…?”
Myheartisbeatingfast,sofast.
Whereisthis?Whycan’tIremember?“Charlie!”someonehisses.Ilookaround.WhoisCharlie?WhichoneisCharlie?
Therearesomanykids;blondhair,rattyhair,brownhair,glasses,noglasses.
Amanwalksincarryingabriefcase.Hesetsitonthedesk.
Theteacher.Iaminaclassroom,andthatistheteacher.Highschoolorcollege?Iwonder.
Istandupsuddenly.I’minthewrongplace.Everyoneissitting,butI’mstanding…walking.
“Whereareyougoing,MissWynwood?”Theteacherislookingatmeovertherimofhisglassesasherifflesthroughapileofpapers.HeslapsthemdownhardonthedeskandIjump.ImustbeMissWynwood.
“Shehascramps!”someonecallsout.Peoplesnicker.Ifeelachillcreepupmybackandcrawlacrossthetopsofmyarms.They’relaughingatme,exceptIdon’tknowwhothesepeopleare.
Ihearagirl’svoicesay,“Shutup,Michael.”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay,hearingmyvoiceforthefirsttime.It’stoohigh.Iclearmythroatandtryagain.“Idon’tknow.I’mnotsupposedtobehere.”
Thereismorelaughing.Iglancearoundatthepostersonthewall,thefacesofpresidentsanimatedwithdatesbeneaththem.Historyclass?Highschool.
Theman—theteacher—tiltshisheadtothesidelikeI’vesaidthedumbestthing.“Andwhereelseareyousupposedtobeontestday?”
“I…Idon’tknow.”
“Sitdown,”hesays.Idon’tknowwhereI’dgoifIleft.Iturnaroundtogoback.ThegirlwiththeglassesglancesupatmeasIpassher.Shelooksawayalmostasquickly.
AssoonasI’msitting,theteacherstartshandingoutpapers.Hewalksbetweendesks,hisvoiceaflatdroneashetellsuswhatpercentageofourfinalgradethetestwillbe.Whenhereachesmydeskhepauses,adeepcreasebetweenhiseyebrows.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retryingtopull.”Hepressesthetipofafatpointerfingeronmydesk.
“Whateveritis,I’msickofit.OnemorestuntandI’msendingyoutotheprincipal’soffice.”Heslapsthetestdowninfrontofmeandmovesdowntheline.
Idon’tnod,Idon’tdoanything.I’mtryingtodecidewhattodo.AnnouncetothewholeroomthatIhavenoideawhoandwhereIam—orpullhimasideandtellhimquietly.Hesaidnomorestunts.Myeyesmovetothepaperinfrontofme.Peoplearealreadybentovertheirtests,pencilsscratching.
FourthPeriod
History
Mr.Dulcott
Thereisaspaceforaname.I’msupposedtowritemyname,butIdon’tknowwhatmynameis.MissWynwood,hecalledme.
Whydon’tIrecognizemyownname?OrwhereIam?
OrwhatIam?
Everyheadisbentovertheirpapersexceptmine.SoIsitandstare,straightahead.Mr.Dulcottglaresatmefromhisdesk.ThelongerIsit,theredderhisfacebecomes.
Timepassesandyetmyworldhasstopped.Eventually,Mr.Dulcottstandsup,hismouthopentosaysomethingtomewhenthebellrings.“Putyourpapersonmydeskonthewayout,”hesays,hiseyesstillonmyface.Everyoneisfilingoutofthedoor.IstandupandfollowthembecauseIdon’tknowwhatelsetodo.Ikeepmyeyesonthefloor,butIcanfeelhisrage.Idon’tunderstandwhyhe’ssoangrywithme.Iaminahallwaynow,linedoneithersidebybluelockers.
“Charlie!”someonecalls.“Charlie,waitup!”Asecondlater,anarmloopsthroughmine.Iexpectittobethegirlwiththeglasses;Idon’tknowwhy.It’snot.But,IknownowthatIamCharlie.CharlieWynwood.“Youforgotyourbag,”shesays,handingoverawhitebackpack.Itakeitfromher,wonderingifthere’sawalletwithadriver’slicenseinside.Shekeepsherarmloopedthroughmineaswewalk.She’sshorterthanme,withlong,darkhairanddewybrowneyesthattakeuphalfherface.Sheisstartlingandbeautiful.
“Whywereyouactingsoweirdinthere?”sheasks.“Youknockedtheshrimp’sbooksonthefloorandthenspacedout.”
Icansmellherperfume;it’sfamiliarandtoosweet,likeamillionflowerscompetingforattention.Ithinkofthegirlwiththeglasses,thelookonherfaceasshebenttoscoopupherbooks.IfIdidthat,whydon’tIremember?
“I—”
“It’slunch,whyareyouwalkingthatway?”Shepullsmedownadifferentcorridor,pastmorestudents.Theyalllookatme…littleglances.Iwonderiftheyknowme,andwhyIdon’tknowme.Idon’tknowwhyIdon’ttellher,tellMr.Dulcott,grabsomeonerandomandtellthemthatIdon’tknowwhoorwhereIam.BythetimeI’mseriouslyentertainingtheidea,we’rethroughasetofdoubledoorsinthecafeteria.Noiseandcolor;bodiesthatallhaveauniquesmell,brightfluorescentlightsthatmakeeverythinglookugly.Oh,God.Iclutchatmyshirt.
Thegirlonmyarmisbabbling.Andrewthis,Marcythat.ShelikesAndrewandhatesMarcy.Idon’tknowwhoeitherofthemis.Shecorralsmetothefoodline.WegetsaladandDietCokes.Thenweareslidingourtraysonatable.Therearealreadypeoplesittingthere:fourboys,twogirls.Irealizewearecompletingagroupwithevennumbers.Allthegirlsarematchedwithaguy.Everyonelooksupatmeexpectantly,likeI’msupposedtosaysomething,dosomething.Theonlyplacelefttositisnexttoaguywithdarkhair.Isitslowly,bothhandsflatonthetable.Hiseyesdarttowardmeandthenhebendsoverhistrayoffood.Icanseethefinestbeadsofsweatonhisforehead,justbelowhishairline
“Youtwoaresoawkwardsometimes,”saysanewgirl,blonde,acrossfromme.She’slookingfrommetotheguyI’msittingnextto.HelooksupfromhismacaroniandIrealizehe’sjustmovingthingsaroundonhisplate.Hehasn’ttakenabite,despitehowbusyhelooks.HelooksatmeandIlookathim,thenwebothlookbackattheblondegirl.
“Didsomethinghappenthatweshouldknowabout?”sheasks.“No,”wesayinunison.
He’smyboyfriend.Iknowbythewaythey’retreatingus.Hesuddenlysmilesatmewithhisbrilliantlywhiteteethandreachestoputanarmaroundmyshoulders.
“We’reallgood,”hesays,squeezingmyarm.Iautomaticallystiffen,butwhenIseethesixsetsofeyesonmyface,Ileaninandplayalong.It’sfrighteningnotknowingwhoyouare—evenmorefrighteningthinkingyou’llgetitwrong.I’mscarednow,reallyscared.It’sgonetoofar.IfIsaysomethingnowI’lllook…crazy.Hisaffectionseemstomakeeveryonerelax.Everyoneexcept…him.Theygobacktotalking,butallthewordsblendtogether:football,aparty,morefootball.Theguysittingnexttomelaughsandjoinsinwiththeirconversation,hisarmneverstrayingfrommyshoulders.TheycallhimSilas.TheycallmeCharlie.Thedark-hairedgirlwiththebigeyesisAnnika.Iforgeteveryoneelse’snamesinthenoise.
Lunchisfinallyoverandweallgetup.IwalknexttoSilas,orratherhewalksnexttome.IhavenoideawhereI’mgoing.Annikaflanksmyfreeside,windingherarmsthroughmineandchattingaboutcheerleadingpractice.She’smakingmefeelclaustrophobic.Whenwereachanannexinthehallway,Ileanoverandspeaktohersoonlyshecanhear.“Canyouwalkmetomynextclass?”Herfacebecomesserious.Shebreaksawaytosaysomethingtoherboyfriend,andthenourarmsareloopedagain.
IturntoSilas.“Annikaisgoingtowalkmetomynextclass.”
“Okay,”hesays.Helooksrelieved.“I’llseeyou…later.”Heheadsoffintheoppositedirection.
Annikaturnstomeassoonashe’soutofsight.“Where’shegoing?”
Ishrug.“Toclass.”
Sheshakesherheadlikeshe’sconfused.“Idon’tgetyouguys.Onedayyou’reallovereachother,thenextyou’reactinglikeyoucan’tstandtobeinthesameroom.Youreallyneedtomakeadecisionabouthim,Charlie.”
Shestopsoutsideadoorway.
“Thisisme…”Isay,toseeifshe’llprotest.Shedoesn’t.“Callmelater,”shesays.“Iwanttoknowaboutlastnight.”
Inod.Whenshedisappearsintotheseaoffaces,Istepintotheclassroom.Idon’tknowwheretosit,soIwandertothebackrowandslideintoaseatbythewindow.I’mearly,soIopenmybackpack.There’sawalletwedgedbetweenacoupleofnotebooksandamakeupbag.Ipullitoutandflipitopentorevealadriver’slicensewithapictureofabeaming,dark-hairedgirl.Me.
CharlizeMargaretWynwood
2417HolcourtWay
NewOrleans,LA
I’mseventeen.MybirthdayisMarchtwenty-first.IliveinLouisiana.IstudythepictureinthetopleftcornerandIdon’trecognizetheface.It’smyface,butI’veneverseenit.I’m…pretty.Ionlyhavetwenty-eightdollars.
Theseatsarefillingup.Theonebesidemestaysempty,almostlikeeveryoneistooafraidtositthere.I’minSpanishclass.Theteacherisprettyandyoung;hernameisMrs.Cardona.Shedoesn’tlookatmelikeshehatesme,likesomanyotherpeoplearelookingatme.Westartwithtenses.
Ihavenopast.Ihavenopast.
Fiveminutesintoclassthedooropens.Silaswalksin,hiseyesdowncast.Ithinkhe’sheretotellmesomething,ortobringmesomething.Ibracemyself,readytopretend,butMrs.Cardonacommentsjokinglyabouthislateness.Hetakestheonlyavailableseatnexttomeandstaresstraightahead.Istareathim.Idon’tstopstaringathimuntilfinally,heturnshisheadtolookatme.Alineofsweatrollsdownthesideofhisface.
Hiseyesarewide.Wide…justlikemine.2
Silas
Threehours.
It’sbeenalmostthreehours,andmymindisstillinahaze.
No,notahaze.Notevenadensefog.ItfeelsasifI’mwanderingaroundinapitch-blackroom,searchingforthelightswitch.
“Youokay?”Charlieasks.I’vebeenstaringatherforseveralseconds,attemptingtoregainsomesemblanceoffamiliarityfromafacethatshouldapparentlybethemostfamiliartome.
Nothing.
Shelooksdownatherdeskandherthickblackhairfallsbetweenuslikeblinders.Iwantabetterlookather.Ineedsomethingtograbme,somethingfamiliar.IwanttopredictabirthmarkorafreckleonherbeforeIseeit,becauseIneedsomethingrecognizable.I’llgraspatanypieceofherthatmightconvincemeI’mnotlosingmymind.
Shereachesherhandup,finally,andtucksherhairbehindherear.Shelooksupatmethroughtwowideandcompletelyunfamiliareyes.Thecreasebetweenherbrowsdeepensandshebeginsbitingatthepadofherthumb.
She’sworriedaboutme.Aboutus,maybe.
Us.
Iwanttoaskherifsheknowswhatmighthavehappenedtome,butIdon’twanttoscareher.HowdoIexplainthatIdon’tknowher?HowdoIexplainthistoanyone?I’vespentthelastthreehourstryingtoactnatural.AtfirstIwasconvincedImusthaveusedsomekindofillegalsubstancethatcausedmetoblackout,butthisisdifferentfromblackingout.Thisisdifferentfrombeinghighordrunk,andIhavenoideahowIevenknowthat.Idon’trememberanythingbeyondthreehoursago.
“Hey.”Charliereachesoutlikeshe’sgoingtotouchme,thendrawsback.“Areyouokay?”
Igripthesleeveofmyshirtandwipethesheenofmoistureoffmyforehead.Whensheglancesbackupatme,Iseetheconcernstillfillinghereyes.Iforcemylipstoformasmile.
“I’mfine,”Imutter.“Longnight.”
AssoonasIsayit,Icringe.IhavenoideawhatkindofnightIhad,andifthisgirlsittingacrossfrommereallyismygirlfriend,thenasentencelikethatprobablyisn’tveryreassuring.
Iseeasmalltwitchinhereyeandshetiltsherhead.“Whywasitalongnight?”
Shit.
“Silas.”Thevoicecomesfromthefrontoftheroom.Ilookup.“Notalking,”theteachersays.Shereturnstoherinstruction,nottooconcernedwithmyreactiontobeingsingledout.IglancebackatCharlie,briefly,andthenimmediatelystaredownatmydesk.Myfingerstraceovernamescarvedintothewood.Charlieisstillstaringatme,butIdon’tlookather.Iflipmyhandover,andIruntwofingersoverthecallousesacrosstheinsideofmypalm.
DoIwork?Mowlawnsforaliving?
Maybeit’sfromfootball.DuringlunchIdecidedtousemytimetoobserveeveryonearoundme,andIlearnedIhavefootballpracticethisafternoon.Ihavenoideawhattimeorwhere,butI’vesomehowmadeitthroughthelastfewhourswithoutknowingwhenorwhereI’msupposedtobe.Imaynothaveanysortofrecollectionrightnow,butI’mlearningthatI’mverygoodatfakingit.Toogood,maybe.
Iflipmyotherhandoverandfindthesameroughcallousesonthatpalm.
MaybeIliveonafarm.
No.Idon’t.
Idon’tknowhowIknow,butevenwithoutbeingabletorecallanything,Iseemtohaveanimmediatesenseofwhatassumptionsofmineareaccurateandwhicharenot.Itcouldjustbeprocessofelimination,ratherthanintuitionormemory.Forexample,Idon’tfeellikesomeonewholivesonafarmwouldbewearingtheclothesIhaveon.Niceclothes.Trendy?Lookingdownatmyshoes,ifsomeoneaskedmeifIhaverichparents,I’dtellthem,“Yes,Ido.”AndIdon’tknowhow,becauseIdon’tremembermyparents
Idon’tknowwhereIlive,whoIlivewith,orifIlookmorelikemymotherormyfather.
Idon’tevenknowwhatIlooklike.
Istandabruptly,shovingthedeskafewloudinchesforwardintheprocess.EveryoneintheclassturnstofacemeotherthanCharlie,becauseshehasn’tstoppedstaringatmesinceIsatdown.Hereyesaren’tinquisitiveorkind.
Hereyesareaccusing.
Theteacherglaresatme,butdoesn’tseematallsurprisedbythelossofeveryone’sattentiontome.Shejuststands,complacent,waitingformetoannouncemyreasonforthesuddendisruption.
Iswallow.“Bathroom.”Mylipsaresticky.Mymouthisdry.Mymindiswrecked.Idon’twaitforpermissionbeforeIbegintoheadinthatdirection.Icanfeeleveryone’sstaresasIpushthroughthedoor.
Igorightandmakeittotheendofthehallwithoutfindingarestroom.Ibacktrackandpassbymyclassroomdoor,continuinguntilIroundthecornerandfindtherestroom.Ipushopenthedoor,hopingforsolitude,butsomeoneisstandingattheurinalwithhisbacktome.Iturntothesink,butdon’tlookintothemirror.Istaredownatthesink,placingmyhandsoneithersideofit,grippingtightly.Iinhale.
IfIwouldjustlookatmyself,myreflectioncouldtriggeramemory,ormaybejustgivemeasmallsenseofrecognition.Something.Anything.
Theguywhowasstandingattheurinalsecondsbeforeisnowstandingnexttome,leaningagainstasinkwithhisarmsfolded.WhenIglanceoverathim,he’sglaringatme.Hishairissoblond,it’salmostwhite.Hisskinissopale,itremindsmeofajellyfish.Translucent,almost.
Icanrememberwhatjellyfishlooklike,butIhavenoideawhatI’llfindwhenIlookatmyselfinthemirror?
“Youlooklikeshit,Nash,”hesayswithasmirk.
Nash?
EveryoneelsehasbeencallingmeSilas.Nashmustbemylastname.Iwouldcheckmywallet,butthereisn’toneinmypocket.Justawadofcash.AwalletisoneofthefirstthingsIlookedforafter…well,afterithappened.
“Notfeelingtoohot,”Igrumbleinresponse.
Forafewseconds,theguydoesn’trespond.HejustcontinuestostareatmethesamewayCharliewasstaringatmeinclass,butwithlessconcernandwaymorecontentment.Theguysmirksandpushesoffthesink.Hestandsupstraight,butisstillaboutaninchshyofreachingmyheight.Hetakesastepforward,andIgatherbythelookinhiseyethatheisn’tclosinginonmeoutofconcernformyhealth.
“Westillhaven’tsettledFridaynight,”theguysaystome.“Isthatwhyyou’reherenow?”Hisnostrilsflarewhenhespeaksandhishandsdroptohissides,clenchingandunclenchingtwice.
Ihaveatwo-secondsilentdebatewithmyself,awarethatifIstepawayfromhim,it’llmakemelooklikeacoward.However,I’malsoawarethatifIstepforward,I’llbechallenginghimtosomethingIdon’twanttodealwithrightnow.HeobviouslyhasissueswithmeandwhateveritwasthatIchosetodoFridaynightthatpissedhimoff.
Icompromisebygivinghimnoreactionwhatsoever.Lookunaffected.
Ilazilymovemyattentiontothesinkandturnoneoftheknobsuntilastreamofwaterbeginstopourfromthefaucet.“Saveitforthefield,”Isay.Iimmediatelywanttotakebackthosewords.Ihadn’tconsideredhemightnotevenplayfootball.Iassumedhedidbasedonhissize,butifhedoesn’t,mycommentwillhavenotmadeadamnbitofsense.Iholdmybreathandwaitforhimtocorrectme,orcallmeout.
Neitherofthosethingshappens.
Hestaresforafewmoreseconds,andthenheshoulderspastme,purposefullybumpingmeonhiswayoutthedoor.Icupmyhandsunderthestreamofwaterandtakeasip.Iwipemymouthwiththebackofmyhandandglanceup.Atmyself.
AtSilasNash.
Whatthehellkindofnameisthat,anyway?
I’mstaring,emotionless,intoapairofunfamiliar,darkeyes.IfeelasthoughI’mstaringattwoeyesI’veneverseenbefore,despitethefactthatI’vemorethanlikelylookedattheseeyesonadailybasissinceIwasoldenoughtoreachamirror.
I’masfamiliarwiththispersoninthereflectionasIamwiththegirlwhois—accordingtosomeguynamedAndrew—thegirlI’vebeen“banging”fortwoyearsnow.
I’masfamiliarwiththispersoninthereflectionasIamwitheverysingleaspectofmyliferightnow.
Whichisnotfamiliaratall.“Whoareyou?”Iwhispertohim.
Thebathroomdoorbeginstoopenslowly,andmyeyesmovefrommyreflectiontothereflectionofthedoor.Ahandappears,grippingthedoor.Irecognizethesleek,redpolishonthetipsofherfingers.ThegirlI’vebeen“banging”formorethantwoyears.
“Silas?”
Istandupstraightandturntofacethedoorfull-onasshepeeksaroundit.Whenhereyesmeetmine,it’sonlyfortwoseconds.Sheglancesaway,scanningtherestofthebathroom.
“It’sjustme,”Isay.Shenodsandmakesittherestofthewaythroughthedoor,albeitextremelyhesitantly.IwishIknewhowtoreassureherthateverythingisokaysoshewon’tgrowsuspicious.IalsowishIrememberedher,oranythingaboutourrelationship,becauseIwanttotellher.Ineedtotellher.Ineedforsomeoneelsetoknow,sothatIcanaskquestions.
Buthowdoesaguytellhisgirlfriendhehasnoideawhosheis?Whohehimselfis?
Hedoesn’ttellher.Hepretends,justlikehe’sbeenpretendingwitheveryoneelse.
Onehundredsilentquestionsfillhereyesatonce,andIimmediatelywanttododgethemall.“I’mfine,Charlie.”Ismileather,becauseitfeelslikesomethingIshoulddo.“Justnotfeelingsohot.Gobacktoclass.”
Shedoesn’tmove.Shedoesn’tsmile.
Shestayswheresheis,unaffectedbymyinstruction.Sheremindsmeofoneofthoseanimalsonspringsyou’drideonaplayground.Thekindyoupush,buttheyjustbouncerightbackup.Ifeellikeifsomeoneweretoshovehershoulders,she’dleanstraightback,feetinplace,andthenbouncerightbackupagain.
Idon’trememberwhatthosethingsarecalled,butIdomakeamentalnotethatIsomehowrememberthem.I’vemadealotofmentalnotesinthelastthreehours.
I’masenior.
MynameisSilas.
Nashmightbemylastname.Mygirlfriend’snameisCharlie.Iplayfootball.
Iknowwhatjellyfishlooklike.
Charlietiltsherheadandthecornerofhermouthtwitchesslightly.Herlipspart,andforamoment,allIheararenervousbreaths.Whenshefinallyformswords,Iwanttohidefromthem.IwanttotellhertoclosehereyesandcounttotwentyuntilI’mtoofarawaytohearherquestion.
“What’smylastname,Silas?”
Hervoiceislikesmoke.Softandwispyandthengone.
Ican’ttellifshe’sextremelyintuitiveorifI’mdoingahorriblejobofcoveringupthefactthatIknownothing.Foramoment,IdebatewhetherornotIshouldtellher.IfItellherandshebelievesme,shemightbeabletoansweralotofquestionsIhave.ButifItellherandshedoesn’tbelieveme…
“Babe,”Isaywithadismissivelaugh.DoIcallherbabe?“Whatkindofquestionisthat?”
SheliftsthefootIwaspositivewasstucktothefloor,andshetakesastepforward.Shetakesanother.Shecontinuestowardmeuntilshe’saboutafootaway;closeenoughthatIcansmellher.
Lilies.
Shesmellslikelilies,andIdon’tknowhowIcanpossiblyrememberwhatliliessmelllike,butsomehownotremembertheactualpersonstandinginfrontofmewhosmellslikethem.
Hereyeshaven’tleftmine,notevenonce.“Silas,”shesays.“What’smylastname?”
Iworkmyjawbackandforth,andthenturnaroundtofacethesinkagain.Ileanforwardandgripittightlywithbothhands.Islowlyliftmyeyesuntiltheymeethersinthereflection.
“Yourlastname?”Mymouthisdryagainandmywordscomeoutscratchy.
Shewaits.
Ilookawayfromherandbackattheeyesoftheunfamiliarguyinthemirror.“I…Ican’tremember.”
Shedisappearsfromthereflection,followedimmediatelybyaloudsmack.ItremindsmeofthesoundthefishmakeatPikePlaceMarket,whentheytossandcatchtheminthewaxpaper.
Smack!
Ispinaroundandshe’slyingonthetilefloor,eyesclosed,armssplayedout.Iimmediatelykneeldownandliftherhead,butassoonasIhaveherelevatedseveralinchesoffthefloor,hereyelidsbegintoflutteropen.
“Charlie?”
Shesucksinarushofairandsitsup.Shepullsherselfoutofmyarmsandshovesmeaway,almostasifshe’safraidofme.Ikeepmyhandspositionednearherincasesheattemptstostand,butshedoesn’t.Sheremainsseatedonthefloorwithherpalmspressedintothetile.
“Youpassedout,”Itellher.
Shefrownsatme.“I’mawareofthat.”
Idon’tspeakagain.Ishouldprobablyknowwhatallherexpressionsmean,butIdon’t.Idon’tknowifshe’sscaredorangryor…
“I’mconfused,”shesays,shakingherhead.“I…Canyou…”Shepauses,andthenmakesanattempttostand.Istandwithher,butIcantellshedoesn’tlikethisbythewaysheglaresatmyhandsthatareslightlylifted,waitingtocatchhershouldshestarttofallagain.
Shetakestwostepsawayfrommeandcrossesanarmoverherchest.Shebringsheroppositehandupandbeginschewingonthepadofherthumbagain.Shestudiesmequietlyforamomentandthenpullsherthumbfromhermouth,makingafist.“Youdidn’tknowwehadclasstogetherafterlunch.”Herwordsarespokenwithalayerofaccusation.“Youdon’tknowmylastname.”
Ishakemyhead,admittingtothetwothingsIcan’tdeny.“Whatcanyouremember?”sheasks.
She’sscared.Nervous.Suspicious.Ouremotionsarereflectionsofoneanother,andthat’swhentheclarityhits.
Shemaynotfeelfamiliar.Imaynotfeelfamiliar.Butouractions—ourdemeanor—they’reexactlythesame.
“WhatdoIremember?”Irepeatherquestioninanattempttobuymyselfafewmoresecondstoallowmysuspicionstogainfooting.
Shewaitsformyanswer.
“History,”Isay,attemptingtorememberasfarbackasIcan.“Books.Isawagirldropherbooks.”Igrabmyneckagainandsqueeze.
“Oh,God.”Shetakesaquicksteptowardme.“That’s…that’sthefirstthingIremember.”
Myheartjumpstomythroat.
Shebeginstoshakeherhead.“Idon’tlikethis.Itdoesn’tmakesense.”Sheappearscalm—calmerthanIfeel.Hervoiceissteady.TheonlyfearIseeisinthestretchedwhitesofhereyes.Ipullhertomewithoutthinking,butIthinkit’smoreformyownreliefratherthantoputheratease.Shedoesn’tpullaway,andforasecond,Iwonderifthisisnormalforus.Iwonderifwe’reinlove.
ItightenmyholduntilIfeelherstiffenagainstme.“Weneedtofigurethisout,”shesays,separatingherselffromme.
Myfirstinstinctistotellherit’llbeokay,thatI’llfigureitout.I’mfloodedwithanoverwhelmingneedtoprotecther—onlyIhavenoideahowtodothatwhenwe’rebothexperiencingthesamereality.
Thebellrings,signalingtheendofSpanish.Withinseconds,thebathroomdoorwillprobablyopen.Lockerswillbeslammingshut.We’llhavetofigureoutwhatclasseswe’resupposedtobeinnext.ItakeherhandandpullherbehindmeasIpushopenthebathroomdoor.
“Wherearewegoing?”sheasks.
Ilookatherovermyshoulderandshrug.“Ihavenoidea.IjustknowIwanttoleave.”3
Charlie
Thisdude—thisguy,Silas—hegrabsmyhandlikeheknowsmeanddragsmebehindhimlikeI’malittlekid.Andthat’swhatIfeellike—alittlekidinabig,bigworld.Idon’tunderstandanything,andImostcertainlydon’trecognizeanything.AllIcanthink,ashepullsmethroughtheunderstatedhallsofsomeanonymoushighschool,isthatIfainted;keeledoverlikesomedamselindistress.Andontheboys’bathroomfloor.Filthy.I’mevaluatingmypriorities,wonderinghowmybraincanfitgermsintotheequationwhenIclearlyhaveamuchlargerproblem,whenweburstintothesunlight.IshieldmyeyeswithmyfreehandastheSilasdudepullskeysfromhisbackpack.Heholdsthemabovehisheadandmakesacircle,clickingthealarmbuttononhiskeyfob.Fromsomefarcorneroftheparkinglotweheartheshriekofanalarm.
Werunforit,ourshoesslappingtheconcretewithurgency,asifsomeoneischasingus.Andtheymightbe.ThecarturnsouttobeanSUV.Iknowit’simpressivebecauseitsitsabovetheothercars,makingthemlooksmallandinsignificant.ALandRover.Silasiseitherdrivinghisdad’scar,orfloatinginhisdad’smoney.Maybehedoesn’thaveadad.Hewouldn’tbeabletotellmeanyway.AndhowdoIevenknowhowmuchacarlikethiscosts?Ihavememoriesofhowthingswork:acar,therulesoftheroad,thepresidents,butnotofwhoIam.
Heopensthedoorformewhilelookingoverhisshouldertowardtheschool,andIgetthefeelingI’mbeingpranked.Hecouldberesponsibleforthis.Hecouldhavegivenmesomethingtocausemetolosemymemorytemporarily,andnowhe’sonlypretending.
“Isthisforreal?”Iask,suspendedabovethefrontseat.“Youdon’tknowwhoyouare?”
“No,”hesays.“Idon’t.”
Ibelievehim.Kindof.Isinkintomyseat.
Hesearchesmyeyesforamomentlongerbeforeslammingmydoorandrunningaroundtothedriver’sside.Ifeelrough.Likeafteranightofdrinking.DoIdrink?MylicensesaidIwasonlyseventeen.Ichewonmythumbasheclimbsinandstartstheenginebypressingabutton.
“How’dyouknowhowtodothat?”Iask.
“Dowhat?”
“Startthecarwithoutakey.”
“I…Idon’tknow.”
Iwatchhisfaceaswepulloutofthespot.Heblinksalot,glancesatmemore,runsatongueoverhisbottomlip.Whenwe’reatastoplight,hefindsthehomebuttonontheGPSandhitsit.I’mimpressedthathethoughttodothat.
“Redirecting,”awoman’svoicesays.Iwanttoloseit,jumpoutofthemovingcarandrunlikeafrighteneddeer.Iamsoafraid.
Hishomeislarge.Therearenocarsinthedrivewayaswelingeronthecurb,theenginepurringquietly.
“Areyousurethisisyou?”Iask.Heshrugs.
“Doesn’tlooklikeanyoneishome,”hesays.“Shouldwe?”
Inod.Ishouldn’tbehungry,butIam.Iwanttogoinsideandhavesomethingtoeat,mayberesearchoursymptomsandseeifwe’vecomeincontactwithsomebrain-eatingbacteriathat’sstolenourmemories.Ahouselikethisshouldhaveacoupleoflaptopslyingaround.Silasturnsintothedrivewayandparks.Weclimbouttimidly,lookingaroundattheshrubsandtreeslikethey’regoingtocomealive.Hefindsakeyonhiskeyringthatopensthefrontdoor.AsIstandbehindhimandwait,Istudyhim.Inhisclothesandhair,hewearsthecoollookofaguywhodoesn’tcare,buthecarrieshisshoulderslikehecarestoomuch.Healsosmellsliketheoutside:grass,andpine,andrichblackdirt.He’sabouttoturntheknob.
“Wait!”
Heturnsaroundslowly,despitetheurgencyinmyvoice.“Whatifthere’ssomeoneinthere?”
Hegrins,ormaybeit’sagrimace.“Maybetheycantelluswhatthehellishappening…”
Thenweareinside.Westandimmobileforaminute,lookingaround.IcowerbehindSilaslikeawimp.It’snotcoldbutI’mshivering.Everythingisheavyandimpressive—thefurniture,theair,mybookbag,whichhangsoffmyshoulderlikedeadweight.Silasmovesforward.Igrabontothebackofhisshirtasweskirtthroughthefoyerandintothefamilyroom.Wemovefromroomtoroom,stoppingtoexaminethephotosonthewalls.Twosmiling,sun-kissedparentswiththeirarmsaroundtwosmiling,dark-hairedboys,theoceaninthebackground.
“Youhavealittlebrother,”Isay.“Didyouknowyouhavealittlebrother?”
Heshakeshisheadno.ThesmilinginthephotosbecomesmorescarceasSilasandhismini-mebrothergetolder.Thereisplentyofacneandbraces,photosofparentswhoaretryingtoohardtobecheerfulastheypullstiff-shoulderedboystowardthem.Wemovetothebedrooms…thebathrooms.Wepickupbooks,readthelabelsonbrownprescriptionbottleswefindinmedicinecabinets.Hismotherkeepsdriedflowersalloverthehouse;pressedintothebooksonhernightstand,inhermakeupdrawer,andlinedupontheshelvesintheirbedroom.Itoucheachone,whisperingtheirnamesundermybreath.Irememberallthenamesoftheflowers.Forsomereason,thismakesmegiggle.Silasstopsshortwhenhewalksintohisparents’bathroomandfindsmebentoverlaughing.
“I’msorry,”Isay.“Ihadamoment.”
“Whatkindofmoment?”
“AmomentwhereIrealizedthatI’veforgotteneverythingintheworldaboutmyself,butIknowwhatahyacinthis.”
Henods.“Yeah.”Helooksdownathishands,creasesformingonhisforehead.
“Doyouthinkweshouldtellsomeone?Gotoahospital,maybe?”
“Doyouthinkthey’dbelieveus?”Iask.Westareateachotherthen.AndIholdbacktheurgeonceagaintoaskifI’mbeingpranked.Thisisn’taprank.It’stooreal.
Wemovetohisfather’sstudynext,scouringoverpapersandlookingindrawers.Thereisnothingtotelluswhywearelikethis,nothingoutoftheordinary.Ikeepaclosewatchonhimfromthecornerofmyeye.Ifthisisaprank,he’saverygoodactor.Maybethisisanexperiment,Ithink.I’mpartofsomepsychological,governmentexperimentandI’mgoingtowakeupinalab.Silaswatchesmetoo.Iseehiseyesdartingoverme,wondering…assessing.Wedon’tspeakmuch.Just,Lookatthis.Or,Doyouthinkthisissomething?
Wearestrangersandtherearefewwordsbetweenus.
Silas’sroomislast.HeclutchesmyhandasweenterandIlethimbecauseI’mstartingtofeellight-headedagain.ThefirstthingIseeisaphotoofusonhisdesk.Iamwearingacostume—atoo-shortleopardprinttutuandblackangelwingsthatspreadelegantlybehindme.Myeyesarelinedwiththick,glitterylashes.Silasisdressedinallwhite,withwhiteangelwings.HelookshandsomeGoodvs.evil,Ithink.Isthatthesortoflifegameweplayed?Heglancesatmeandraiseshiseyebrows.
“Poorcostumechoice,”Ishrug.Hecracksasmileandthenwemovetooppositesidesoftheroom.
Iliftmyeyestowallswherethereareframedphotosofpeople:ahomelessmanslouchedagainstawall,holdingablanketaroundhimself;awomansittingonabench,cryingintoherhands.Afortuneteller,herhandclampedaroundherownneckasshelooksintothecameralenswithemptyeyes.Thephotosaremorbid.Theymakemewanttoturnaway,feelashamed.Idon’tunderstandwhyanyonewouldwanttotakeaphotoofsuchmorbidlysadthings,nevermindhangthemontheirwallstolookateveryday.
AndthenIturnandseetheexpensivecameraperchedonthedesk.It’sinaplaceofhonor,sittingatopapileofglossyphotographybooks.IlookovertowhereSilasisalsostudyingthephotos.Anartist.Isthishiswork?Ishetryingtorecognizeit?Nopointinasking.Imoveon,lookathisclothes,lookinthedrawersintherichmahoganydesk.
I’msotired.Imaketositdowninthedeskchair,buthe’ssuddenlyanimated,beckoningmeover.
“Lookatthis,”hesays.Igetupslowlyandwalktohisside.He’sstaringdownathisunmadebed.HiseyesarebrightandshouldIsay…shocked?Ifollowthemtohissheets.Andthenmybloodrunscold.
“Oh,myGod.”4
Silas
Itossthecomforteroutofthewaytogetabetterlookatthemessatthefootofthebed.Smearsofmudcakedintothesheet.Dried.PiecesofitcrackandrollawaywhenIpullthesheettaut.
“Isthat…”Charliestopsspeakingandpullsthecornerofthetopsheetfrommyhand,tossingitawaytogetabetterlookatthefittedsheetbeneathit.“Isthatblood?”
Ifollowhereyesupthesheet,towardtheheadofthebed.Nexttothepillowisasmearedghostofahandprint.Iimmediatelylookdownatmyhands.
Nothing.Notracesofbloodormudwhatsoever.
Ikneeldownbesidethebedandplacemyrighthandoverthehandprintleftonthemattress.It’saperfectmatch.Orimperfect,dependingonhowyoulookatit.IglanceatCharlieandhereyesdriftaway,almostasifshedoesn’twanttoknowwhetherornotthehandprintbelongstome.Thefactthatit’smineonlyaddstothequestions.Wehavesomanyquestionspiledupatthispoint,itfeelsasthoughthepileisabouttocollapseandburyusineverythingbutanswers
“It’sprobablymyownblood,”Isaytoher.OrmaybeIsayittomyself.ItrytodismisswhateverthoughtsIknowaredevelopinginherhead.“Icouldhavefallenoutsidelastnight.”
IfeellikeI’mmakingexcusesforsomeonewhoisn’tme.IfeellikeI’mmakingexcusesforafriendofmine.ThisSilasguy.Someonewhodefinitelyisn’tme.
“Wherewereyoulastnight?”
It’snotarealquestion,justsomethingwe’reboththinking.Ipullatthetopsheetandcomforterandspreadthemoutoverthebedtohidethemess.Theevidence.Theclues.Whateveritis,Ijustwanttocoveritup.
“Whatdoesthismean?”sheasks,turningtofaceme.She’sholdingasheetofpaper.Iwalktoherandtakeitoutofherhands.Itlookslikeit’sbeenfoldedandunfoldedsomanytimes,there’sasmall,wornholeformingintheverycenterofit.Thesentenceacrossthepagereads,Neverstop.Neverforget.
Idropthesheetofpaperonthedesk,wantingitoutofmyhands.Thepaperfeelslikeevidence,too.Idon’twanttotouchit.“Idon’tknowwhatitmeans.”
Ineedwater.It’stheonlythingIrememberthetasteof.Maybebecausewaterhasnotaste.
“Didyouwriteit?”shedemands.
“HowwouldIknow?”Idon’tlikethetoneinmyvoice.Isoundaggravated.Idon’twanthertothinkI’maggravatedwithher.
Sheturnsandwalksswiftlytoherbackpack.Shedigsaroundinsideandpullsoutapen,thenwalksbacktome,shovingitintomyhand.“Copyit.”
She’sbossy.Ilookdownatthepen,rollingitbetweenmyfingers.Irunmythumbacrosstheembossedwordsprinteddownthesideofit.
WYNWOOD-NASHFINANCIALGROUP
“Seeifyourhandwritingmatches,”shesays.Sheflipsthepageovertotheblanksideandpushesittowardme.Icatchhereyes,fallintothemalittle.ButthenI’mangry.
Ihatethatshethinksofthisstufffirst.Iholdthepeninmyrighthand.Itdoesn’tfeelcomfortable.Iswitchthepentomylefthandanditfitsbetter.I’maleftie.
Iwritethewordsfrommemory,andaftershegetsagoodlookatmyhandwriting,Iflipthepagebackover.
Thehandwritingisdifferent.Mineissharp,concise.Theotherislooseanduncaring.Shetakesthepenandrewritesthewords.
It’saperfectmatch.Webothstarequietlyatthepaper,unsureifitevenmeansanything.Itcouldmeannothing.Itcouldmeaneverything.Thedirtonmysheetscouldmeaneverything.Theblood-smearedhandprintcouldmeaneverything.Thefactthatwecanrememberbasicthingsbutnotpeoplecouldmeaneverything.TheclothesI’mwearing,thecolorofhernailpolish,thecameraonmydesk,thephotosonthewall,theclockabovethedoor,thehalf-emptyglassofwateronthedesk.I’mturning,takingitallin.Itcouldallmeaneverything.
Oritcouldallmeanabsolutelynothing.
Idon’tknowwhattocataloginmymindandwhattoignore.MaybeifIjustfallasleep,I’llwakeuptomorrowandbecompletelynormalagain.
“I’mhungry,”shesays.
She’swatchingme;strandsofhairstandbetweenmeandafullviewofherface.She’sbeautiful,butinashamefulway.OneI’mnotsureI’msupposedtoappreciate.Everythingaboutheriscaptivating,liketheaftermathofastorm.Peoplearen’tsupposedtogetpleasureoutofthedestructionMotherNatureiscapableof,butwewanttostareanyway.Charlieisthedevastationleftinthewakeofatornado.
HowdoIknowthat?
Rightnowshelookscalculating,staringatmelikethis.Iwanttograbmycameraandtakeapictureofher.Somethingtwirlsinmystomachlikeribbons,andI’mnotsureifit’snervesorhungerormyreactiontothegirlstandingnexttome.
“Let’sgodownstairs,”Itellher.Ireachforherbackpackandhandittoher.Igrabthecamerafromthedresser.“We’lleatwhilewesearchourthings.”
Shewalksinfrontofme,pausingateverypicturebetweenmyroomandthebottomofthestairwell.Witheachpicturewepass,shetrailsherfingerovermyface,andmyfacealone.Iwatchasshequietlytriestofiguremeoutthroughtheseriesofphotographs.Iwanttotellhershe’swastinghertime.Whoeverisinthosepictures,itisn’tme.
Assoonaswereachthebottomofthestairs,ourearsareassaultedbyashortburstofascream.CharliecomestoasuddenhaltandIbumpintothebackofher.Thescreambelongstoawomanstandinginthedoorwayofthekitchen.
Hereyesarewide,dartingfrommetoCharlie,backandforth.She’sclutchingherheart,exhalingwithrelief.
She’snotfromanyofthephotographs.She’splumpandolder,maybeinhersixties.She’swearinganapronthatreadsIputthe“hor”inhorsd’oeuvres.
Herhairispulledback,butshebrushesawayloosegraystrandsassheblowsoutacalmingbreath.“Jesus,Silas!Youscaredmehalftodeath!”Shespinsandheadsintothekitchen.“Youtwobettergetbacktoschoolbeforeyourfatherfindsout.I’mnotlyingforyou.”
Charlieisstillfrozeninfrontofme,soIplaceahandagainstherlowerbackandnudgeherforward.Sheglancesatmeoverhershoulder.“Doyouknow…”
Ishakemyhead,cuttingoffherquestion.She’sabouttoaskmeifIknowthewomaninthekitchen.Theanswerisno.Idon’tknowher,Idon’tknowCharlie,Idon’tknowthefamilyinthephotos.
WhatIdoknowisthecamerainmyhands.Ilookdownatit,wonderinghowIcanremembereverythingthereistoknowaboutoperatingthiscamera,butIcan’trememberhowIlearnedanyofthosethings.IknowhowtoadjusttheISO.Iknowhowtoadjustshutterspeedtogiveawaterfalltheappearanceofasoftstream,ormakeeachindividualdropofwaterstandonitsown.Thiscamerahastheabilitytoputthesmallestdetailinfocus,likethecurveofCharlie’shand,ortheeyelasheslininghereyes,whileeverythingelseaboutherbecomesablur.IknowthatIsomehowknowtheinsandoutsofthiscamerabetterthanIknowwhatmyownlittlebrother’svoiceshouldsoundlike.
IwrapthestraparoundmyneckandallowthecameratodangleagainstmychestasIfollowCharlietowardthekitchen.She’swalkingwithpurpose.Sofar,I’veconcludedthateverythingshedoeshasapurpose.Shewastesnothing.Everystepshetakesappearstobeplannedoutbeforeshetakesit.Everywordshesaysisnecessary.Wheneverhereyeslandonsomething,shefocusesonitwithallofhersenses,asthoughhereyesalonecoulddeterminehowsomethingtastes,smells,sounds,andfeels.Andsheonlylooksatthingswhenthere’sareasonforit.Forgetthefloors,thecurtains,thephotographsinthehallthatdon’thavemyfaceinthem.Shedoesn’twastetimeonthingsthataren’tofusetoher.
WhichiswhyIfollowherwhenshewalksintothekitchen.I’mnotsurewhatherpurposeisrightnow.It’seithertofindoutmoreinformationfromthehousekeeperorshe’sonthehuntforfood.
Charlieclaimsaseatatthemassivebarandpullsoutthechairnexttoherandpatsitwithoutlookingupatme.Itaketheseatandsetmycameradowninfrontofme.Shedropsherbackpackontothecounterandbeginstounzipit.“Ezra,I’mstarving.Isthereanythingtoeat?”
MyentirebodyswivelstowardCharlie’sonthestool,butitfeelslikemystomachissomewhereonthefloorbeneathme.Howdoessheknowhername?
Charlieglancesatmewithaquickshakeofherhead.“Calmdown,”shehisses.“It’swrittenrightthere.”Shepointsatanote—ashoppinglistlyinginfrontofus.It’sapinkstationerypad,personalized,withkittensliningthebottomofthepage.Atthetopofthepersonalizedstationery,itreadsThingsEzraneedsrightmeow.
ThewomanclosesacabinetandfacesCharlie.“Didyouworkupanappetitewhileyouwereupstairs?Becauseincaseyouweren’taware,theyservelunchattheschoolyoushouldbothbeattendingrightnow.”
“Youmeanrightmeow,”Isaywithoutthinking.Charliespatterslaughter,andthenI’mlaughingtoo.Anditfeelslikesomeonefinallyletairintotheroom.Ezra,lessamused,rollshereyes.ItmakesmewonderifIusedtobefunny.Ialsosmile,becausethefactthatshedidn’tappearconfusedbyCharliereferringtoherasEzrameansCharliewasright.
IreachoverandrunmyhandalongthebackofCharlie’sneck.SheflincheswhenItouchher,butrelaxesalmostimmediatelywhensherealizesit’spartofouract.We’reinlove,Charlie.Remember?
“Charliehasn’tbeenfeelingwell.Ibroughtherheresoshecouldnap,butshehasn’teatentoday.”IreturnmyattentiontoEzraandsmile.“Doyouhaveanythingtomakemygirlfeelbetter?Somesouporcrackers,maybe?”
Ezra’sexpressionsoftenswhensheseestheaffectionI’mshowingCharlie.Shegrabsahandtowelandtossesitoverhershoulder.“I’lltellyouwhat,Char.HowaboutImakeyoumygrilledcheesespecialty?Itwasyourfavoritebackwhenyouusedtovisit.”
MyhandstiffensagainstCharlie’sneck.Backwhenyouusedtovisit?Webothlookateachother,morequestionscloudingoureyes.Charlienods.“Thankyou,Ezra,”shesays.
Ezrashutstherefrigeratordoorwithherhipandbeginsdroppingitemsontothecounter.Butter.Mayonnaise.Bread.Cheese.Morecheese.Parmesancheese.Shelaysapanonthestoveandignitestheflame.“I’llmakeyouone,too,Silas,”Ezrasays.“YoumusthavecaughtwhateverbugCharliehas,becauseyouhaven’tspokentomethismuchsinceyouhitpuberty.”Shechucklesafterhercomment.
“Whydon’tIspeaktoyou?”
Charlienudgesmylegandnarrowshereyes.Ishouldn’thaveaskedthat.
Ezraslidestheknifeintothebutterandretrievesaslabofit.Shesmearsitacrossthebread.“Oh,youknow,”shesays,shrugginghershoulders.“Littleboysgrowup.Theybecomemen.HousekeepersstopbeingAuntEzraandreturntojustbeinghousekeepers.”Hervoiceissadnow.
Igrimace,becauseIdon’tlikelearningaboutthissideofmyself.Idon’twantCharlielearningaboutthissideofme.
Myeyesfalltothecamerainfrontofme.Ipoweriton.Charliebeginsriflingthroughherbackpack,inspectingitemafteritem.
“Uhoh,”shesays.
She’sholdingaphone.Ileanoverhershoulderandlookatthescreenwithher,justassheswitchestheringertotheonposition.Therearesevenmissedcallsandevenmoretexts,allfrom“Mom.”
Sheopensthelatesttextmessage,sentjustthreeminutesago.
Youhavethreeminutestocallmeback.
IguessIdidn’tthinkabouttheramificationsofusditchingschool.Theramificationsofparentswedon’tevenremember.“Weshouldgo,”Isaytoher.
Webothstandatthesametime.ShethrowsherbackpackoverhershoulderandIgrabmycamera.
“Wait,”Ezrasays.“Thefirstsandwichisalmostdone.”ShewalkstotherefrigeratorandgrabstwocansofSprite.“Thiswillhelpwithherstomach.”Shehandsmebothsodasandthenwrapsthegrilledcheeseinapapertowel.Charlieisalreadywaitingatthefrontdoor.JustasI’mabouttowalkawayfromEzra,shesqueezesmywrist.Ifaceheragain,andhereyesmovefromCharlietome.“It’sgoodtoseeherbackhere,”Ezrasayssoftly.“I’vebeenworriedhoweverythingbetweenbothyourfathersmighthaveaffectedthetwoofyou.You’velovedthatgirlsincebeforeyoucouldwalk.”
Istareather,notsurehowtoprocessalltheinformationIjustreceived.“BeforeIcouldwalk,huh?”
Shesmileslikeshehasoneofmysecrets.Iwantitback.“Silas,”Charliesays.
IshootaquicksmileatEzraandheadforCharlie.AssoonasIreachthefrontdoor,theshrillringonherphonestartlesheranditfallsfromherhands,straighttothefloor.Shekneelstopickitup.“It’sher,”shesays,standing.“WhatshouldIdo?”
Iopenthedoorandurgeheroutsidebyherelbow.Oncethedoorisshut,Ifaceheragain.Thephoneisonitsthirdring.“Youshouldanswerit.”
Shestaresatthephone,herfingersgrippingtightlyaroundit.Shedoesn’tanswerit,soIreachdownandswiperighttoanswer.Shecrinklesuphernoseandglaresatmeasshebringsittoherear.“Hello?”
Webeginwalkingtothecar,butIlistenquietlyatthebrokenphrasescomingthroughherphone:“ouknowbetter,”and“Skipschool,”and“Howcouldyou?”Thewordscontinuetocomeoutofherphone,untilwe’rebothseatedinmycarwiththedoorsshut.Istartthecarandthewoman’svoicegrowsquietforseveralseconds.Suddenly,thevoiceisblaringthroughthespeakersofmycar.BluetoothIrememberwhatBluetoothis.
Iplacethedrinksandsandwichonthecenterconsoleandbegintobackoutofthedriveway.Charliestillhasn’thadachancetorespondtohermother,butsherollshereyeswhenIlookather.
“Mom,”Charliesaysflatly,attemptingtointerrupther.“Mom,I’monmywayhome.Silasistakingmetomycar.”
There’salongsilencethatfollowsCharlie’swords,andsomehowhermotherismuchmoreintimidatingwhenwordsaren’tbeingyelledthroughthephone.Whenshedoesbeginspeakingagain,herwordscomeoutslowandoverenunciated.“Pleasetellmeyoudidnotallowthatfamilytobuyyouacar.”
OureyesmeetandCharliemouthsthewordshit.“I…No.No,ImeantSilasisbringingmehome.Bethereinafewminutes.”Charliefumbleswiththephoneinherhands,attemptingtoreturntoascreenthatwillallowhertoendthecall.Ipressthedisconnectbuttononthesteeringwheelandenditforher.
Sheinhalesslowly,turningtofaceherwindow.Whensheexhales,asmallcircleoffogappearsagainstthewindownearhermouth.“Silas?”Shefacesmeandarchesabrow.“Ithinkmymothermaybeabitch.”
Ilaugh,butoffernoreassurance.Iagreewithher.
We’rebothquietforseveralmiles.IrepeatmybriefconversationwithEzraoverandoverinmyhead.I’munabletopushthesceneoutofmyhead,andshe’snotevenmyparent.Ican’timaginewhatCharliemustbefeelingrightnowafterspeakingtoheractualmother.Ithinkbothofushavehadthereassuranceinthebacksofourmindsthatoncewecameincontactwithsomeoneasclosetousasourownparents,itwouldtriggerourmemory.IcantellbyCharlie’sreactionthatshedidn’trecognizeasinglethingaboutthewomanshespoketoonthephone.
“Idon’thaveacar,”shesaysquietly.Ilookoveratherandshe’sdrawingacrosswithherfingertiponthefogged-upwindow.“I’mseventeen.IwonderwhyIdon’thaveacar.”
Assoonasshementionsthecar,IrememberthatI’mstilldrivinginthedirectionoftheschool,ratherthanwhereverIneedtobetakingher.“Doyouhappentoknowwhereyoulive,Charlie?”
Hereyesswingtomine,andinasplitsecondtheconfusiononherfaceisovercomebyclarity.It’sfascinatinghoweasilyIcanreadherexpressionsnowincomparisontoearlierthismorning.HereyesareliketwoopenbooksandIsuddenlywanttodevoureverypage.
Shepullsherwalletfromherbackpackandreadstheaddressfromherdriver’slicense.“IfyoupulloverwecanputitintheGPS,”shesays.
Ipushthenavigationbutton.“ThesecarsaremadeinLondon.Youdon’thavetoidletoprogramanaddressintotheGPS.”IbegintoenterherstreetnumberandIfeelherwatchingme.Idon’tevenhavetoseehereyestoknowthey’reoverflowingwithsuspicion.
Ishakemyheadbeforesheevenasksthequestion.“No,Idon’tknowhowIknewthat.”
Oncetheaddressisentered,Iturnthecararoundandbegintoheadinthedirectionofherhouse.We’resevenmilesaway.Sheopensbothsodasandtearsthesandwichinhalf,handingmepartofit.Wedrivesixmileswithoutspeaking.Iwanttoreachoverandgrabherhandtocomforther.Iwanttosaysomethingreassuringtoher.Ifthiswereyesterday,I’msureIwouldhavedonethatwithoutasecondthought.Butit’snotyesterday.It’stoday,andCharlieandIarecompletestrangerstoday.
Ontheseventhandfinalmile,shespeaks,butallshesaysis,“Thatwasareallygoodgrilledcheese.MakesureyoutellEzraIsaidso.”
Islowdown.Idrivewellbelowthespeedlimituntilwereachherstreet,andthenIstopassoonasIturnontotheroad.She’sstaringoutherwindow,takingineachandeveryhouse.They’resmall.One-storyhouses,eachwithaone-cargarage.Anyoneofthesehousescouldfitinsidemykitchenandwe’dstillhaveroomtocookameal.
“Doyouwantmetogoinsidewithyou?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Youprobablyshouldn’t.Itdoesn’tsoundlikemymotherlikesyouverymuch.”
She’sright.IwishIknewwhathermotherwasreferringtowhenshesaidthatfamily.IwishIknewwhatEzrawasreferringtowhenshementionedourfathers.
“Ithinkit’sthatone,”shesays,pointingtooneafewhousesdown.Iletoffthegasandrolltowardit.It’sbyfarthenicestoneonthestreet,butonlybecausetheyardwasrecentlymowedandthepaintonthewindowframesisn’tpeelingoffinchunks.
Mycarslowsandeventuallycomestoastopinfrontofthehouse.Webothstareatit,quietlytakinginthevastseparationbetweentheliveswelive.However,it’snothingliketheseparationIfeelknowingwe’reabouttohavetosplitupfortherestofthenight.She’sbeenagoodbufferbetweenmeandreality.
“Domeafavor,”ItellherasIputthecarinpark.“LookformynameinyourcallerID.IwanttoseeifIhaveaphoneinhere.”
Shenodsandbeginsscrollingthroughhercontacts.Sheswipesherfingeracrossthescreenandbringsherphonetoherear,pullingherbottomlipinwithherteethtohidewhatlookslikeasmile.
RightwhenIopenmymouthtoaskherwhatjustmadehersmile,amuffledringcomesfromtheconsole.IflipitopenandreachinuntilIfindthephone.WhenIlookatthescreen,Ireadthecontact.
Charliebaby
Iguessthatanswersmyquestion.Shemustalsohaveanicknameforme.Iswipeanswerandbringthephonetomyear.“Hey,Charliebaby.”
Shelaughs,anditcomesatmetwice.Oncethroughmyphoneandagainfromtheseatnexttome.
“I’mafraidwemighthavebeenaprettycheesycouple,Silasbaby,”shesays.
“Seemslikeit.”Irunthepadofmythumbaroundthesteeringwheel,waitingforhertospeakagain.Shedoesn’t.She’sstillstaringattheunfamiliarhouse.
“Callmeassoonasyougetachance,okay?”
“Iwill,”shesays.
“Youmighthavekeptajournal.Lookforanythingthatcouldhelpus.”
“Iwill,”shesaysagain.
We’rebothstillholdingourphonestoourears.I’mnotsureifshe’shesitatingtogetoutbecauseshe’sscaredofwhatshe’llfindinsideorbecauseshedoesn’twanttoleavetheonlyotherpersonwhounderstandshersituation.
“Doyouthinkyou’lltellanyone?”Iask.
Shepullsthephonefromherear,swipingtheendbutton.“Idon’twantanyonetothinkI’mgoingcrazy.”
“You’renotgoingcrazy,”Isay.“Notifit’shappeningtobothofus.”Herlipspressintoatight,thinline.Shegivesherheadthesoftestnod,asifit’smadefromglass.“Exactly.IfIweregoingthroughthisalone,itwouldbeeasytojustsayI’mgoingcrazy.ButI’mnotalone.We’rebothexperiencingthis,whichmeansit’ssomethingelseentirely.Andthatscaresme,Silas.”
Sheopensthedoorandstepsout.Irollthewindowdownassheclosesthedoorbehindher.Shefoldsherarmsoverthewindowsillandforcesasmileasshegesturesoverhershouldertowardthehousebehindher.“Iguessit’ssafetosayIwon’thaveahousekeepertocookmegrilledcheese.”
Iforceasmileinreturn.“Youknowmynumber.Justcallifyouneedmetocomerescueyou.”
Herfakesmileisswallowedupbyagenuinefrown.“Likeadamselindistress.”Sherollshereyes.Shereachesthroughthewindowandgrabsherbackpack.“Wishmeluck,Silasbaby.”Herendearmentisfullofsarcasm,andIkindofhateit.5
Charlie
“Mom?”Myvoiceisweak,asqueak.Iclearmythroat.“Mom?”Icallagain.
ShecomescareeningaroundthecornerandIimmediatelythinkofacarwithoutbrakes.Iretreattwostepsuntilmybackisflushagainstthefrontdoor.
“Whatwereyoudoingwiththatboy?”shehisses.Icansmelltheliquoronherbreath.
“I…Hebroughtmehomefromschool.”Iwrinklemynoseandbreathethroughmymouth.She’sallupinmypersonalspace.IreachbehindmeandgrabthedoorknobincaseIneedtomakeaquickexit.IwashopingtofeelsomethingwhenIsawher.Shewasmyincubatinguterusandbirthdaypartythrowerforthelastseventeenyears.Ihalfexpectedarushofwarmthormemories,somefamiliarity.Iflinchawayfromthestrangerinfrontofme.
“Youskippedschool.Youwerewiththatboy!Caretoexplain?”Shesmellslikeabarjustvomitedonher.
“Idon’tfeellike…myself.Iaskedhimtobringmehome.”Ibackupastep.“Whyareyoudrunkinthemiddleoftheday?”
HereyessplaywideandforaminuteIthinkit’sarealpossibilitythatshemighthitme.Atthelastmomentshestumblesbackandslidesdownthewalluntilshe’ssittingonthefloor.TearsinvadehereyesandIhavetolookaway.
Okay,Iwasn’texpectingthat.
YellingIcandealwith.Cryingmakesmenervous.Especiallywhenit’sacompletestrangerandIdon’tknowwhattosay.Icreeppastherjustassheburiesherfaceinherhandsandbeginstosobhard.I’mnotsureifthisisnormalforher.Ihesitate,hoveringrightwherethefoyerendsandthelivingroomstarts.Intheend,Ileavehertohertearsanddecidetofindmybedroom.Ican’thelpher.Idon’tevenknowher.
IwanttohideuntilIfiguresomethingout.LikewhothehellIam.ThehouseissmallerthanIthought.Justpastwheremymotheriscryingonthefloor,thereisakitchenandasmalllivingroom.Theysitsquatandorderly,filledtothemaxwithfurniturethatdoesn’tlooklikeitbelongs.Expensivethingsinaninexpensivehouse.Therearethreedoors.Thefirstisopen.Ipeerinandseeaplaidbedspread.Myparents’bedroom?Iknowfromtheplaidbedspreadthatitisn’tmine.Ilikeflowers.Iopenthesecondofthedoors:abathroom.Thethirdisanotherbedroomontheleftsideofthehallway.Istepinside.Twobeds.Igroan.Ihaveasibling.
Ilockthedoorbehindme,andmyeyesdartaroundthesharedspace.Ihaveasister.Bythelooksofherthingssheisyoungerthanmebyatleastafewyears.Istareatthebandpostersthatadornhersideoftheroomwithdistaste.Mysideissimpler:atwinbedwithadarkpurplecomforterandaframedblackandwhiteprintthathangsonthewalloverthebed.Iimmediatelyknowit’ssomethingSilasphotographed.Abrokengatethathangsonitshinges;vineschokingtheirwaythroughtherustedmetalprongs—notasdarkastheprintsinhisbedroom,perhapsmoresuitedtome.Thereisastackofbooksonmynightstand.Ireachforonetoreadthetitlewhenmyphonepings.
Silas:Youokay?
Me:IthinkmymomisanalcoholicandIhaveasister.
Hisresponsecomesafewsecondslater.
Silas:Idon’tknowwhattosay.Thisissoawkward.
Ilaughandsetmyphonedown.Iwanttodigaround,seeifIcanfindanythingsuspicious.Mydrawersareneat.ImusthaveOCD.ItossaroundthesocksandunderweartoseeifIcanpissmyselfoff.
Thereisnothinginmydrawers,nothinginmynightstand.Ifindaboxofcondomsstuffedinapurseundermybed.Ilookforajournal,noteswrittenbyfriends—thereisnothing.Iamasterilehuman,boringifnotforthatprintabovemybed.AprintwhichSilasgavetome,notoneIpickedoutmyself.
Mymotherisinthekitchen.Icanhearhersnifflingandmakingherselfsomethingtoeat.She’sdrunk,Ithink.MaybeIshouldaskhersomequestionsandshewon’trememberIaskedthem.
“Hey,er…Mom,”Isay,comingtostandnearher.Shepausesinhertoast-makingtolookatmewithblearyeyes.
“So,wasIbeingweirdlastnight?”
“Lastnight?”sherepeats.
“Yeah,”Isay.“Youknow…whenIcamehome.”
Shescrapestheknifeoverthebreaduntilitissmearedwithbutter.
“Youweredirty,”sheslurs.“Itoldyoutotakeashower.”
IthinkofthedirtandleavesinSilas’sbed.Thatmeanswewereprobablytogether.
“WhattimedidIgethome?Myphonewasdead,”Ilie.
Shenarrowshereyes.“Aroundteno’clock.”
“DidIsayanything…unusual?”
Sheturnsawayandwandersovertothesink,whereshebitesintohertoastandstaresdownthedrain.
“Mom!Payattention.Ineedyoutoanswerme.”Whydoesthisfeelfamiliar?Mebegging,herignoring.
“No,”shesayssimply.ThenIhaveathought:myclothesfromlastnight.Offthekitchenthereisasmallclosetwithastackedwasheranddryerinsideofit.Iopenthelidtothewashingmachineandseeasmallmoundofwetclothesclumpedatthebottom.Ipullthemout.Theyaredefinitelymysize.Imusthavethrowntheminherelastnight,triedtowashawaytheevidence.Evidenceofwhat?Iprythepocketsofthejeansopenwithmyfingersandreachinside.Thereisawadofpaper,clumpedinathick,dampmess.Idropthejeansandcarrythewadbacktomyroom.IfItrytounfoldit,itmightfallapart.Idecidetosetitonthewindowsillandwaitforittodry.
ItextSilas.
Me:Whereareyou?
Iwaitafewminutesandwhenhedoesn’ttextback,Itryagain.
Me:Silas!
IwonderifIalwaysdothis;harasshimuntilheanswers.
IsendfivemoreandthenItossmyphoneacrosstheroom,buryingmyfaceinCharlieWynwood’spillowtocry.CharlieWynwoodprobablynevercried.Shehasnopersonalityfromthelooksofherbedroom.Hermotherisanalcoholicandhersisterlistenstocrappymusic.AndhowdoIknowthattheposterabovemysister’sbedcompareslovetoaboomandaclap,butIdon’tremembersaidsister’sname?Iwanderovertohersideofthesmallbedroomandrummagearoundinherthings.
“Ding,ding,ding!”Isay,pullingapinkpolkadotjournaloutfromunderherpillow.
Isettledownonherbedandflipopenthecover.
PropertyofJanetteEliseWynwood.
DONOTREAD!
Iignorethewarningandpagetoherfirstentry,titled:
Charliesucks.
Mysisteristheworstpersonontheplanet.Ihopeshedies.
Iclosethebookandputitbackunderneaththepillow.“Thatwentwell.”
Myfamilyhatesme.Whattypeofhumanareyouwhenyourownfamilyhatesyou?FromacrosstheroommyphonetellsmethatIhaveatext.Ijumpup,thinkingit’sSilas,suddenlyfeelingrelieved.Therearetwotexts.OneisfromAmy.
Whereru?!!
AndtheotherisfromaguynamedBrian.
Hey,missedutoday.Didyoutellhim?
Himwho?Andtellhimwhat?
Isetmyphonedownwithoutansweringeitherofthem.Idecidetogivethejournalanothertry,skippingallthewaytoJanette’slastentry,whichwaslastnight.
Title:Imightneedbracesbutwe’retoobroke.Charliehadbraces.
Irunmytongueovermyteeth.Yup,theyfeelprettystraight.
HerteethareallstraightandperfectandI’mgoingtohaveasnaggletoothforever.Momsaidshe’dseeaboutfinancingbuteversincethatthinghappenedwithdad’scompanywedon’thavemoneyfornormalthings.Ihatetakingpackedlunchtoschool.Ifeellikeakindergartener!
IskipaparagraphinwhichshedetailsherfriendPayton’slastperiod.
She’srantingaboutherlackofmenstruationwhenherjournalingisdisturbedbyyourstruly.
Ihavetogo.Charliejustgothomeandshe’scrying.Shehardlyevercries.IhopeSilasbrokeupwithher—wouldserveherright.
SoIwascryingwhenIcamehomelastnight?Iwalkovertothewindowsillwherethepaperfrommypockethassomewhatdried.Carefullysmoothingitout,IlayitonthedeskmysisterandIseemtoshare.Partoftheinkhaswashedaway,butitlookslikeareceipt.ItextSilas.
Me:Silas,Ineedaride.
Iwaitagain,growingirritatedwithhisdelayinresponse.Iamimpatient,Ithink.
Me:There’saguynamedBrianwho’stextingme.He’sreallyflirty.Icanaskhimforarideifyou’rebusy…
Myphonepingsasecondlater.
Silas:Hellno.OMW!
Ismile.
Itshouldn’tbeaproblemslippingoutofthehousesincemymotherhaspassedoutonthesofa.Iwatchherforamoment,studyinghersleepingface,tryingdesperatelytorememberit.ShelookslikeCharlie,onlyolder.BeforeIheadoutsidetowaitforSilas,Icoverherwithablanketandgrabacoupleofsodasfromthebarrenfridge.
“Seeya,Mom,”Isayquietly.6
Silas
Ican’ttellifI’mgoingbacktoherbecauseIfeelprotectiveoverherorpossessiveofher.Eitherway,Idon’tliketheideaofherreachingouttosomeoneelse.ItmakesmewonderwhothisBrianguyis,andwhyhethinksit’sokaytosendherflirtytextswhenCharlieandIareobviouslytogether.
Mylefthandisstillclutchingmyphonewhenitringsagain.There’snonumberonthescreen.Justtheword“Bro.”Islidemyfingeracrossitandanswerthephone.
“Hello?”
“Wherethehellareyou?”
It’saguy’svoice.Avoicethatsoundsalotlikemine.Ilookleftandright,butnothingisfamiliarabouttheintersectionI’mpassingthrough.“I’minmycar.”
Hegroans.“Noshit.Youkeepmissingpractice,you’llbebenched.”Yesterday’sSilasprobablywouldhavebeenpissedoffaboutthis.
Today’sSilasisrelieved.“Whatdayistoday?”
“Wednesday.Daybeforetomorrow,dayafteryesterday.Comegetme,practiceisover.”
Whydoeshenothavehisowncar?Idon’tevenknowthiskidandhealreadyfeelslikeaninconvenience.He’sdefinitelymybrother.
“IhavetopickupCharliefirst,”Itellhim.
There’sapause.“Atherhouse?”
“Yeah.”
Anotherpause.“Doyouhaveadeathwish?”
Ireallyhatenotknowingwhateveryoneelseseemstoknow.WhywouldInotbeallowedatCharlie’shouse?
“Whatever,justhurryup,”hesays,rightbeforehangingup.
She’sstandinginthestreetwhenIturnthecorner.She’sstaringatherhouse.Herhandsarerestinggentlyathersides,andshe’sholdingtwosodas.Oneineachhand.She’sholdingthemlikeweapons,likeshewantstothrowthematthehouseinfrontofherinhopesthatthey’reactuallygrenades.Islowthecardownandstopseveralfeetfromher.
She’snotwearingthesameclothesshehadonearlier.She’swearingalong,blackskirtthatcoversherfeet.Ablackscarfiswrappedaroundherneck,fallingoverhershoulder.Hershirtistanandlong-sleeved,butshestilllookscold.Agustofwindblowsandtheskirtandscarfmovewithit,butsheremainsunaffected.Shedoesn’tevenblink.She’slostinthought.
I’mlostinher.
WhenIputthecarinpark,sheturnsherhead,looksatmeandthenimmediatelycastshereyesattheground.Shewalkstowardthepassengerdoorandclimbsinside.Hersilenceseemstobebeggingformysilence,soIdon’tsayanythingasweheadtowardtheschool.Afteracoupleofmiles,sherelaxesagainsttheseatandpropsoneofherbootedfeetagainstthedash.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Mybrothercalled.Heneedsaride.”Shenods.
“ApparentlyI’mintroublefornotshowinguptofootballpracticetoday.”I’msureshecantellbythelackadaisicaltoneofmyvoicethatI’mnottooconcernedaboutmissingpractice.Footballisn’treallyonmylistofprioritiesrightnow,sobeingbenchedisprobablythebestoutcomeforeveryone.
“Youplayfootball,”shesays,matteroffact.“Idon’tdoanything.I’mboring,Silas.Myroomisboring.Idon’tkeepajournal.Idon’tcollectanything.TheonlythingIhaveisapictureofagate,andIdidn’teventakethepicture.Youdid.AllIhavewithanypersonalityinmywholeroomissomethingyougaveme.”
“Howdoyouknowthepictureisfromme?”
Sheshrugsandtugsherskirttautacrossherknees.“Youhaveauniquestyle.Kindoflikeathumbprint.Icouldtellitwasyoursbecauseyouonlytakepicturesofthingsthatpeoplearetooscaredtostareatinreallife.”
Shedoesn’tlikemyphotographs,Iguess.
“So…”Iask,staringstraightahead.“Who’sthisBrianguy?”
Shepicksupherphoneandopenshertexts.I’mtryingtolookoveratthem,knowingI’mtoofarawaytoreadthem,butImaketheeffort,anyway.Inoticeshetiltsherphoneslightlytotheright,shieldingitfrommyview.“I’mnotsure,”shesays.“ItriedtoscrollbackandseeifIcouldfigureoutanythingfromtexts,butourmessagesareconfusing.Ican’ttellifIwasdatinghimoryou.”
Mymouthisdryagain.Itakeoneofthedrinksshebroughtwithherandpopthetopofit.Itakealongsipandsetitbackinthecupholder.
“Maybeyouweremessingaroundwithbothofus.”There’sanedgetomyvoice.Itrytosoftenit.“Whatdohistextsfromtodaysay?”
Shelocksthephoneandturnsitfacedowninherlap,almostasifshe’sashamedtolookatit.Shedoesn’tanswerme.Icanfeelmyneckflush,andIrecognizethewarmthofthejealousycreepingthroughmelikeavirus.Idon’tlikeit.
“Texthimback,”Isaytoher.“Tellhimyoudon’twanthimtotextyouanymoreandthatyouwanttoworkitoutwithme.”
Shecutshereyesinmydirection.“Wedon’tknowoursituation,”shesays.“WhatifIdidn’tlikeyou?Whatifwewerebothreadytobreakup?”
Ilookbackattheroadandgrindmyteethtogether.“Ijustthinkit’sbetterifwesticktogetheruntilwefigureoutwhathappened.Youdon’tevenknowwhothisBrianguyis.”
“Idon’tknowyou,either,”shebitesback.
Ipullintotheparkinglotoftheschool.She’swatchingmeclosely,waitingonmyresponse.IfeellikeI’mbeingbaited.
Iparkthecarandturnitoff.Igripthesteeringwheelwithmyrighthandandmyjawwithmylefthand.Isqueezeboth.“Howdowedothis?”
“Canyoubealittlemorespecific?”shesays.
Igivemyheadtheslightestshake.Idon’tknowifshe’sevenlookingatmetonotice.“Ican’tbespecific,becauseI’mreferringtoeverything.Tous,ourfamilies,ourlives.Howdowefigurethisout,Charlie?Andhowdowedoitwithoutfindingthingsoutabouteachotherthataregoingtopissusoff?”
Beforeshecananswerme,someoneexitsagateandbeginswalkingtowardus.Helookslikeme,butyounger.Maybeasophomore.He’snotasbigasmeyet,butfromthelooksofhim,he’sprobablygoingtosurpassmeinsize.
“Thisshouldbefun,”shesays,watchingmylittlebrotherapproachthecar.Hewalksstraighttothebackpassengersideandswingsopenthedoor.Hetossesinabackpack,anextrapairofshoes,agymbag,andfinally,himself.
Thedoorslams.
Hepullsouthisphoneandbeginsscrollingthroughhistexts.He’sbreathingheavily.Hishairissweatyandmattedtohisforehead.Wehavethesamehair.Whenhelooksupatme,Iseethatwealsohavethesameeyes.
“What’syourproblem?”heasks.
Idon’trespondtohim.IturnbackaroundinmyseatandglanceatCharlie.Shehasasmirkonherfaceandshe’stextingsomeone.Ialmostwanttograbherphoneandseeifshe’stextingBrian,butmyphonevibratesfromhertextassoonasshehitssend.
Charlie:Doyouevenknowyourlittlebrother’sname?
Ihaveabsolutelynoideawhatmyownlittlebrother’snameis.“Shit,”Isay
Shelaughs,butherlaughiscutshortwhenshespotssomethingintheparkinglot.Mygazefollowshersandlandsonaguy.He’sstalkingtowardthecar,glaringhardatCharlie.
Irecognizehim.He’stheguyfromthebathroomthismorning.Theonewhotriedtoprovokeme.
“Letmeguess,”Isay.“Brian?”
Hewalksstraighttothepassengerdoorandopensit.HestepsbackandcrookshisfingeratCharlie.Heignoresmecompletely,buthe’sabouttogettoknowmereallywellifhethinkshecansummonCharliethisway.
“Weneedtotalk,”hesays,hiswordsclipped.
Charlieputsherhandonthedoortopullitshut.“Sorry,”shesays.“Wewerejustabouttoleave.I’lltalktoyoutomorrow.”
Disbeliefregistersonhisface,butsodoesaheftydoseofanger.AssoonasIseehimgrabherbythearmandyankhertowardhim,I’moutofthevehicleandroundingthefrontofmycar.I’mmovingsofast,Isliponthegravelandhavetograbthehoodofthecartopreventmyselffromfalling.Smooth.Irusharoundthepassengerdoor,preparedtograbthebastardbyhisthroat,buthe’sbentover,groaning.Hishandiscoveringhiseye.HestraightensupandglaresatCharliethroughhisgoodeye.
“Itoldyounottotouchme,”Charliesaysthroughclenchedteeth.
She’sstandingnexttoherdoor,herhandstillclenchedinafist.
“Youdon’twantmetotouchyou?”hesayswithasmirk.“That’safirst.”
JustasIbegintolungetowardhim,Charlieshovesahandagainstmychest.Sheshootsmeawarninglook,givingherheadtheslightestshake.Iforceadeep,calmingbreathandstepback.
CharliefocusesherattentionbackonBrian.“Thatwasyesterday,Brian.Today’sabrand-newdayandI’mleavingwithSilas.Gotit?”Sheturnsaroundandclimbsbackintothepassengerseat.IwaituntilherdoorisshutandlockedbeforeIbegintowalkbacktothedriver’sside.
“She’scheatingonyou,”Brianyellsafterme.Istopinmytracks.
Islowlyturnandfacehim.He’sstandinguprightnow,andfromthelooksofhisposture,he’sexpectingmetohithim.WhenIdon’t,hecontinuestoprovokeme.
“Withme,”headds.“Morethanonce.It’sbeengoingonforovertwomonthsnow.”
Istareathim,tryingtoremaincalmontheoutside,butinternally,myhandsarewrappedaroundhisthroat,squeezingthelastdropofoxygenfromhislungs.
IglanceatCharlie.She’sbeggingmewithhereyesnottodoanythingstupid.Iturnbacktofacehimandsomehow,Ismile.“That’snice,Brian.Youwantatrophy?”
IwishIcouldbottleuptheexpressiononhisfaceandreleaseitanytimeIneedagoodlaugh.
OnceI’mbackinsidethecar,IpulloutoftheparkinglotmoredramaticallythanIprobablyshould.Whenwe’rebackontheroad,headingtowardmyhouse,IfinallyfinditinmetolookatCharlie.She’sstaringrightbackatme.Wekeepoureyeslockedforafewseconds,gaugingoneanother’sreaction.RightbeforeI’mforcedtolookbackattheroadinfrontofme,Iseehersmile.
Webothstartlaughing.Sherelaxesagainstherseatandsays,“Ican’tbelieveIwascheatingonyouwiththatguy.Youmusthavedonesomethingthatreallypissedmeoff.”
Ismileather.“Nothingshortofmurdershouldhavemadeyoucheatonmewiththatguy.”
Athroatclearsinthebackseat,andIimmediatelyglanceintherearviewmirror.Iforgotallaboutmybrother.Heleansforwarduntilhe’spositionedbetweenthefrontandmiddleseats.HelooksatCharlie,andthenatme.
“Letmegetthisstraight,”hesays.“Youtwoarelaughingaboutthis?”
Charlieglancesatmeoutofthecornerofhereye.WebothstoplaughingandCharlieclearsherthroat.“Howlonghavewebeentogethernow,Silas?”sheasks
Ipretendtocountonmyfingerswhenmybrotherspeaksup.“Fouryears,”heinterjects.“Jesus,what’sgottenintothetwoofyou?”
Charlieleansforwardandlockseyeswithme.Iknowexactlywhatshe’sthinking.
“Fouryears?”Imutter.
“Wow,”Charliesays.“Longtime.”
Mybrothershakeshisheadandfallsbackagainsthisseat.“ThetwoofyouareworsethananepisodeofJerrySpringer.”
JerrySpringerisatalkshowhost.HowdoIknowthis?IwonderifCharlieremembersthis.
“YourememberJerrySpringer?”Iaskher.
Herlipsaretight,pressedtogetherincontemplation.Shenodsandturnstowardthepassengerwindow.
Noneofthismakessense.Howcanweremembercelebrities?Peoplewe’venevermet?HowdoIknowthatKanyeWestmarriedaKardashian?HowdoIknowthatRobinWilliamsdied?
IcanremembereveryoneI’venevermet,butIcan’trememberthegirlI’vebeeninlovewithforoverfouryears?Uneasinesstakesoverinsideofme,pumpingthroughmyveinsuntilitsettlesinmyheart.IspendthenextfewmilessilentlynamingoffallthenamesandfacesofpeopleIremember.Presidents.Actors.Politicians.Musicians.RealityTVstars.
ButIcan’tforthelifeofmerememberthenameofmylittlebrother,whoisclimbingoutofthebackseatrightnow.Iwatchhimashemakeshiswayinsideourhouse.Icontinuetowatchthedoor,longafteritclosesbehindhim.I’mstaringatmyhousejustlikeCharliewasstaringathers.
“Areyouokay?”Charlieasks.
It’sasifthesoundofhervoiceissuction,pullingmeoutofmyheadatbreakneckspeedandshovingmebackintothemoment.ThemomentwhereIpictureCharlieandBrianandthewordshesaidthatIhadtopretenddidn’taffectmeatall.“She’scheatingonyou.”
Iclosemyeyesandleanmyheadagainsttheheadrest.“Whydoyouthinkithappened?”
“Youreallydoneedtolearnhowtobemorespecific,Silas.”
“Okay,”Ireply,liftingmyheadandlookingdirectlyather.“Brian.Whydoyouthinkyousleptwithhim?”
Shesighs.“Youcan’tbemadatmeforthat.”
Itiltmyheadandlookatherindisbelief.“Weweretogetherforfouryears,Charlie.Youcan’tblamemeforbeingalittleupset.”
Sheshakesherhead.“Theyweretogetherforfouryears.CharlieandSilas.Notthetwoofus,”shesays.“Besides,who’stosayyouwereanangel?Haveyouevenlookedthroughallyourowntexts?”
Ishakemyhead.“I’mafraidtonow.Anddon’tdothat.”
“Don’tdowhat?”
“Don’trefertousinthethirdperson.Youareher.AndI’mhim.Whetherwelikewhowewereornot.”
AssoonasIbegintopulloutofthedriveway,Charlie’sphonerings.“Mysister,”shesaysrightbeforesheanswersitwithahello.Shelistensquietlyforseveralseconds,eyeingmetheentiretime.“ShewasdrunkwhenIgothome.I’llbethereinafewminutes.”Sheendsthecall.“Backtotheschool,”shesays.“Myalcoholicmotherwassupposedtopickmysisterupafterherswimpractice.Lookslikewe’reabouttomeetanothersibling.”
Ilaugh.“IfeellikeIwasachauffeurinmypastlife.”
Charlie’sexpressiontightens.“I’llstopreferringtousinthethirdpersonifyoustopreferringtoitasapastlife.Wedidn’tdie,Silas.Wejustcan’trememberanything.”
“Wecanremembersomethings,”Iclarify.
Ibegintoheadbackinthedirectionoftheschool.AtleastI’llknowmywayaroundwithallofthisbackandforth.
“TherewasthisfamilyinTexas,”shesays.“Theyhadaparrot,buthewentmissing.Fouryearslater,heshowedupoutoftheblue—speakingSpanish.”Shelaughs.“WhydoIrememberthatpointlessstorybutIcan’trememberwhatIdidtwelvehoursago?”
Idon’trespond,becauseherquestionisrhetorical,unlikeallthequestionsinmyhead.
Whenwepulluptotheschoolagain,aspittingimageofCharlieisstandingbytheentrancewithherhandscrossedtightlyoverherchest.Sheclimbsintothebackseatandsitsinthesamespotwheremybrotherwasjustsitting.
“Howwasyourday?”Charlieasksher.
“Shutup,”hersistersays.
“Bad,Itakeit?”
“Shutup,”shesaysagain.
Charlielooksatmewide-eyed,butwithamischievousgrinonherface.“Wereyouwaitinglong?”
“Shutup,”hersistersaysagain.
IrealizenowthatCharlieisjustinstigatingher.Ismilewhenshekeepsatit
“MomwasprettywastedwhenIgothometoday.”
“What’snew?”hersistersays.
Atleastshedidn’tsayshutupthistime.
Charliefiresacouplemorequestions,buthersisterignoreshercompletely,givingherfullattentiontothephoneinherhands.WhenwepullintoCharlie’sdriveway,hersisterbeginstoopenherdoorbeforethecarevencomestoastop
“TellMomI’llbelate,”Charliesaysashersisterclimbsoutofthecar.“AndwhendoyouthinkDadwillbehome?”
Hersisterpauses.ShestaresatCharliewithcontempt.“Tentofifteen,accordingtothejudge.”Sheslamsthedoor.
Iwasn’texpectingthat,andapparentlyneitherwasCharlie.Sheslowlyturnsaroundinherseatuntilshe’sfacingforwardagain.Sheinhalesaslowbreathandcarefullyreleasesit.“Mysisterhatesme.Iliveinadump.Mymom’sanalcoholic.Myfatherisinprison.Icheatonyou.”Shelooksatme.“Whythehellareyouevendatingme?”
IfIknewherbetter,I’dhugher.Holdherhand.Something.Idon’tknowwhattodo.There’snoprotocolonhowtoconsoleyourgirlfriendoffouryearswhoyoujustmetthismorning.
“Well,accordingtoEzra,I’velovedyousincebeforeIcouldwalk.Iguessthat’shardtoletgoof.”
Shelaughsunderherbreath.“Youmusthavesomefierceloyalty,becauseI’mevenbeginningtohateme.”
Iwanttoreachoverandtouchhercheek.Makeherlookatme.Idon’t,though.Iputthecarinreverseandkeepmyhandstomyself.“Maybethere’salotmoretoyouthanjustyourfinancialstatusandwhoyourfamilyis.”
“Yeah,”shesays.Sheglancesatmeandthedisappointmentismomentarilyreplacedbyabriefsmile.“Maybe.”
Ismilewithher,butwebothglanceoutourrespectivewindowstohidethem.Oncewe’reontheroadagain,Charliereachesfortheradio.Shescrollsthroughseveralstations,settlingononesongthatwebothimmediatelybeginsinging.Assoonasthefirstlineoflyricscomesoutofourmouths,webothimmediatelyturnandfaceoneanother.
“Lyrics,”shesayssoftly.“Weremembersonglyrics.”
Nothingisaddingup.Atthispoint,mymindissoexhaustedIdon’tevenfeellikeattemptingtofigureitoutatthemoment.Ijustwanttherespitethemusicprovides.Apparentlysodoesshe,becauseshesitsquietlybesidemeformostofthedrive.Afterseveralminutespass,Icanfeelherlookatme.
“IhatethatIcheatedonyou.”Sheimmediatelyturnsupthevolumeontheradioandsettlesagainstherseat.Shedoesn’twantaresponsefromme,butifshedidIwouldtellheritwasokay.ThatIforgiveher.Becausethegirlsittingnexttomerightnowdoesn’tseemlikeshecouldbethegirlwhopreviouslybetrayedme.
Sheneveraskswherewe’regoing.Idon’tevenknowwherewe’regoing.Ijustdrive,becausedrivingseemstobetheonlytimemymindsettlesdown.Ihavenoideahowlongwedrive,butthesunisfinallysettingwhenIdecidetoturnaroundandheadback.We’rebothlostinourheadstheentiretime,whichisironicfortwopeoplewhohavenomemories.
“Weneedtogothroughourphones,”Isaytoher.It’sthefirstthingspokenbetweenusinoveranhour.“Checkoldtextmessages,emails,voicemail.Wemightfindsomethingthatcouldexplainthis.”
Shepullsherphoneout.“Itriedthatearlier,butIdon’thaveafancyphonelikeyours.Ionlygettextmessages,butIbarelyhaveany.”
Ipullthecaroveratagasstationandparkofftothesidewhereit’sdarker.Idon’tknowwhyIfeellikeweneedprivacytodothis.Ijustdon’twantanyoneapproachingiftheyrecognizeus,becausechancesare,wewon’tknowtheminreturn.
Iturnoffthecarandwebothbeginscrollingthroughourphones.Istartwithtextmessagesbetweenthetwoofusfirst.Iscrollthroughseveral,butthey’reallshortandtothepoint.Schedules,timestomeetup.Iloveyou’sandmissyou’s.Nothingrevealinganythingatallaboutourrelationship.
Basedonmycalllog,wetalkforatleastanhouralmosteverynight.Igothroughallthecallsstoredinmyphone,whichiswellovertwoweeks’worth.
“Wetalkedonthephoneforatleastanhoureverynight,”Itellher.
“Really?”shesays,genuinelyshocked.“Whatintheworldcouldwehavetalkedaboutforanhoureverynight?”
Igrin.“Maybewedon’tactuallydoawholelotoftalking.”
Sheshakesherheadwithaquietlaugh.“Whydoyoursexjokesnotsurpriseme,eventhoughIrememberabsolutelynothingaboutyou?”
Herhalflaughturnsintoagroan.“Oh,God,”shesays,tiltingherphonetowardme.“Lookatthis.”Shescrollsthroughherphone’scamerarollwithherfinger.“Selfies.Nothingbutselfies,Silas.Ieventookbathroomselfies.”Sheexitsoutofhercameraapp.“Killmenow.”
Ilaughandopenthecameraonmyownphone.Thefirstpictureisofthetwoofus.We’restandinginfrontofalake,takingaselfie,naturally.Ishowherandshegroansevenlouder,droppingherheaddramaticallyagainsttheheadrest.“I’mstartingtonotlikewhoweare,Silas.You’rearichkidwho’sadicktoyourhousekeeper.I’mameanteenagerwithabsolutelynopersonalitywhotakesselfiestomakeherselffeelimportant.”
“I’msurewearen’tasbadasweseem.Atleastweappeartolikeeachother.”
Shelaughsunderherbreath.“Iwascheatingonyou.Apparentlyweweren’tthathappy.”
Iopentheemailonmyphoneandfindavideofilelabeled“Donotdelete.”Iclickonit.
“Checkthisout.”Iliftthearmrestandscootclosertohersoshecanseethevideo.IturnthecarstereoupsothesoundcanbeheardthroughBluetooth.Sheliftsherarmrestandscootsclosertogetabetterlook.
Ihitplay.Myvoicecomesthroughthespeakersofmycar,makingitapparentthatI’mtheoneholdingthecamerainthevideo.It’sdark,anditlookslikeI’moutside.
“It’sofficiallyourtwoyearanniversary.”Myvoiceishushed,likeIdon’twanttobecaughtdoingwhateveritisI’mdoing.Iturnthecameraonmyselfandthelightfromtherecorderison,illuminatingmyface.Ilookyounger,maybebyayearortwo.I’mguessingIwassixteenbasedonthefactthatIjustsaiditwasourtwo-yearanniversary.IlooklikeI’msneakinguptoawindow.
“I’mabouttowakeyouuptotellyouhappyanniversary,butit’salmostoneo’clockinthemorningonaschoolnight,soI’mfilmingthisincaseyourfathermurdersme.”
Iturnthecamerabackaroundandfaceittowardawindow.Thecameragoesdark,butwecanhearthewindowbeingraisedandthesoundofmestrugglingtoclimbinside.OnceI’minsidetheroom,IshinethecameratowardCharlie’sbed.There’salumpunderthecovers,butshedoesn’tmove.Imovethecameraaroundtherestoftheroom.ThefirstthingInoticeisthattheroomonthecameradoesn’tlooklikeitwouldbearoominthehouseCharlielivesinnow.
“That’snotmybedroom,”Charliesays,lookingcloseratthevideoplayingonmyphone.“Myroomnowisn’tevenhalfthatsize.AndIsharewithmylittlesister.”
Theroomonthevideodefinitelydoesn’tlooklikeasharedroom,butwedon’tgetagoodenoughlookbecausethecamerapointsbackatthebed.Thelumpunderthecoversmovesandfromtheangleofthecamera,itlooksasthoughI’mcrawlingontothebed.
“Charliebaby,”Iwhispertoher.Shepullsthecoversoverherheadbutshieldshereyesfromthelightofthecamera.
“Silas?”shewhispers.Thecameraisstillpointedatherfromanawkwardangle,asifIforgotIwasevenholdingit.Therearekissingsounds.Imustbekissingupherarmorneck.
Justthesoundaloneofmylipstouchingherskinisenoughreasontoturnoffthevideo.Idon’twanttomakethisawkwardforCharlie,butshe’sfocusedonmyphonewithasmuchintensityasIam.Andnotbecauseofwhat’shappeningbetweenusonthevideo,butbecausewedon’trememberit.It’sme…it’sher…it’sustogether.ButIdon’trememberasinglethingaboutthisencounter,soitfeelslikewe’rewatchingtwocompletestrangersshareanintimatemoment.
Ifeellikeavoyeur.
“Happyanniversary,”Iwhispertoher.ThecamerapullsawayanditlookslikeImoveittothepillowbesideherhead.TheonlyviewwehavenowistheprofileofCharlie’sfaceasherheadrestsagainstherpillow.
It’snotthebestview,butit’senoughtoseethatshelooksexactlythesame.Herdarkhairissplayedoutacrossthepillow.She’slookingupandIassumeI’mhoveringoverher,butIcan’tseemyselfinthevideo.Ijustseehermouthasitcurlsupintoasmile.
“You’resucharebel,”shewhispers.“Ican’tbelieveyousnuckintotellmethat.”
“Ididn’tsneakintotellyouthat,”Iwhisperquietly.“Isnuckintodothis.”Myfacefinallyappearsinthevideo,andmylipsrestsoftlyagainsthers.
Charlieshiftsinherseatnexttome.Iswallowthelumpinmythroat.IsuddenlywishIwerealonerightnow,watchingthis.I’dbereplayingthiskissoverandoverandover.
Mynervesaretight,andIrealizeit’sbecauseI’mjealousoftheguyinthevideo,whichmakesabsolutelynosense.ItfeelslikeI’mwatchingacompletestrangermakeoutwithher,eventhoughit’sme.Thosearemylipsagainsthers,butit’spissingmeoffbecauseIdon’trememberwhatthatfeelslike.
Idebatewhetherornottostopthevideo,especiallybecausethekissthat’shappeningrightnowlookslikeit’sturningintomorethanjustasimplekiss.Myhand,whichwasrestingagainsthercheek,isnowoutofview.FromthesoundscomingoutofCharlie’smouthinthevideo,itseemslikesheknowsexactlywheremyhandis.
Shepullshermouthfrommineandglancesintothecamera,justasherhandappearsinfrontofthelens,knockingthecamerafacedownontothebed.Thescreengoesblack,butthesoundisstillrecording.
“Thelightwasblindingme,”shemurmurs.
Myfingerisrightnexttothepausebuttononmyphone.Ishouldpresspause,butIcanfeelthewarmthofherbreathescapinghermouth,flirtingwiththeskinonmyneck.Betweenthatandthesoundscomingfrommyspeakers,Ineverwantthevideotoend.
“Silas,”shewhispers.
We’rebothstillstaringatthescreen,eventhoughit’sbeenpitchblacksincesheknockedthecameraover.There’snothingtosee,butwecan’tlookaway.Thesoundsofourvoicesareplayingallaroundus,fillingthecar,fillingus
“Nevernever,Charlie,”Iwhisper.Amoan.
“Nevernever,”shewhispersinresponse.Agasp.
Anothermoan.
Rustling.
Thesoundofazipper.
“Iloveyousomuch,Charlie.”
Soundsofbodiesshiftingonthebed.
Heavybreaths.Lotsofthem.They’recomingfromthespeakerssurroundingusandalsofromourmouthsaswesithereandlistentothis.
“Oh,God…Silas.”
Twosharpintakesofbreath.Desperatekissing.
Ahornblaring,swallowingupthesoundscomingfrommyspeakers.
Ifumblewiththephoneanditfallstothefloorboard.Headlightsareshiningintomycar.FistsaresuddenlybeatingonCharlie’swindowandbeforeIcanretrievethephonefromthefloorboard,herdoorisbeingjerkedopen.
“Youfeelincredible,Charlie.”Myvoicebarrelsthroughthespeakers.
LoudburstsoflaughterescapethemouthofthegirlwhoisnowholdingopenCharlie’sdoor.Shesatwithusatlunchtoday,butIcan’trememberhername.
“Oh,myGod!”shesays,shovingCharlieintheshoulder.“Areyouguyswatchingasextape?”Sheturnsaroundandyellsatthecarwhoseheadlightsarestillshiningthroughthewindows.“CharandSiarewatchingasextape!”She’sstilllaughingwhenIfinallyhavethephonebackinmyhandsandpresspause.Iturnthevolumedownonthecarradio.Charlielooksfromthegirltome,wide-eyed.
“Wewerejustleaving,”Isaytothegirl.“Charliehastogethome.”
Thegirllaughswithashakeofherhead.“Oh,please,”shesays,lookingatCharlie.“Yourmomisprobablysodrunkshethinksyou’reinbedrightnow.Followus,we’reheadedouttoAndrew’s.”
Charliesmileswithashakeofherhead.“Ican’t,Annika.I’llseeyouatschooltomorrow,okay?”Annikalooksoverlyoffended.ShescoffswhenCharliecontinuestopullthedoorshut,despiteherbeingintheway.ThegirlstepsasideandCharlieslamsherdoorandlocksit.
“Drive,”shesays.Ido.Gladly.
We’reaboutamileawayfromthegasstationwhenCharlieclearsherthroat.Itdoesn’thelphervoicebecauseitstillcomesoutinaraspywhisper.“Youshouldprobablydeletethatvideo.”
Idon’tlikehersuggestion.IwasalreadyplanningonreplayingittonightwhenIgethome.“Therecouldbeaclueinit,”Isaytoher.“IthinkIshouldwatchitagain.Listentohowitends.”
Shesmiles,justasmyphoneindicatesanincomingtext.Iflipitoverandseeanotificationatthetopofthescreenfrom“Father.”Iopenmytextmessages
Father:Comehome.Alone,please.
IshowthetexttoCharlieandshejustnods.“Youcandropmeoffathome.”
Therestoftherideisslightlyuncomfortable.Ifeellikethevideowejustwatchedtogetherhassomehowmadeusseeoneanotherinadifferentlight.Notnecessarilyabadone,justadifferentone.Before,whenIlookedather,shewasjustthegirlwhowasexperiencingthisweirdphenomenonwithme.NowwhenIlookather,she’sthegirlIsupposedlymakeloveto.ThegirlI’veapparentlymadelovetoforawhile.ThegirlIapparentlystilllove.IjustwishIcouldrememberwhatit’ssupposedtofeellike.
Afterseeingtheobviousconnectionweoncehad,itonlyfurtherconfusesmethatshewasinvolvedwiththatBrianguy.Thinkingabouthimnowfillsmewithawholelotmoreangerandjealousythanitdidbeforeseeingustogetherinthatvideo.
Whenwepullintoherdrivewayandstop,shedoesn’timmediatelygetout.Shestaresupatthedarkhouseinfrontofus.There’safaintlightoninafrontwindow,butnosignofmovementanywhereinsidethehouse.
“I’lltrytotalktomysistertonight.MaybegetmoreofanideaaboutwhathappenedlastnightwhenIcamehome.”
“That’sprobablyagoodidea,”Itellher.“I’lldothesamewithmybrother.MaybefigureoutwhathisnameiswhileI’matit.”
Shelaughs.
“Wantmetopickyouupforschooltomorrow?”
Shenods.“Ifyoudon’tmind.”
“Idon’t.”
It’squietagain.Thesilenceremindsmeofthesoftsoundsthatwereescapingherinthevideothat’sstillonmyphone,thankGod.I’llbehearinghervoiceinmyheadallnight.I’mkindoflookingforwardtoit,actually.
“Youknow,”shesays,tappingthedoorwithherfingers.“Wecouldwakeuptomorrowandbeperfectlyfine.Wemightevenforgettodayhappenedandeverythingwillbebacktonormal.”
Wecanhopeforit,butmyinstinctsleadmetobelievethatwon’thappen.We’regoingtowakeuptomorrowjustasconfusedaswearerightnow.
“I’dbetagainstit,”Isay.“I’llgothroughtherestofmyemailsandmessagestonight.Youshoulddothesame.”
Shenodsagain,finallyturningherheadtomakedirecteyecontactwithme.“Goodnight,Silas.”
“Goodnight,Charlie.Callmeifyou…”
“I’llbefine,”shesaysquickly,cuttingmeoff.“Seeyouinthemorning.”Sheexitsthecarandbeginswalkingtowardherhouse.Iwanttoyellafterher,tellhertowait.Iwanttoknowifshe’swonderingthesamethingI’mwondering:Whatdoes“nevernever”mean?7
Charlie
Ithinkifyoucheat,itshouldbewithsomeoneworthyofyoursin.I’mnotsureifthisisoldCharlie’sthoughtsornewCharlie’sthoughts.Ormaybe,becauseI’mobservingCharlieWynwood’slifeasanoutsider,I’mabletothinkofhercheatingwithdetachmentratherthanjudgment.AllIknowisifyou’regoingtocheatonSilasNashithadbetterbewithRyanGosling.
Iturnbacktolookathimbeforehedrivesawayandcatchaglimpseofhisprofile,thedimstreetlampbehindthecarilluminatinghisface.Thebridgeofhisnoseisn’tsmooth.Atschool,theotherboyshadprettynoses,ornosesthatwerestilltoobigfortheirfaces.Orworse,nosespockedwithacne.Silashasagrown-upnose.Itmakesyoutakehimmoreseriously.
Iturnbacktothehouse.Mystomachfeelsoily.NooneisaroundwhenIopenthedoorandpeerinside.IfeellikeI’manintruderbreakingintosomebody’shouse.
“Hello?”Isay.“Anyonehere?”Iclosethedoorquietlybehindmeandtiptoeintothelivingroom.
Ijump.
Charlie’smotherisonthecouchwatchingSeinfeldonmute,andeatingpintobeansstraightfromthecan.I’msuddenlyremindedthatallI’veeatentodayisthegrilledcheeseIsplitwithSilas.
“Areyouhungry?”Iaskhertentatively.Idon’tknowifshe’sstillmadatmeorifshe’sgoingtocryagain.“Doyouwantmetomakeussomethingtoeat?”
Sheleansforwardwithoutlookingatmeandslidesherbeansontothecoffeetable.Itakeasteptowardherandforceouttheword,“Mom?”
“She’snotgoingtoansweryou.”
IspinaroundtoseeJanettestrollintothekitchen,abagofDoritosinherhand.
“Isthatwhatyouatefordinner?”
Sheshrugs.
“Whatareyou,likefourteen?”
“Whatareyou,likebrain-dead?”sheshootsback.Andthen,“Yes,I’mfourteen.”
IgrabtheDoritosfromherhandandcarrythemovertowheredrunkenmommyisstaringattheTVscreen.“Fourteen-year-oldgirlscan’teatchipsfordinner,”Isay,droppingthebagonherlap.“Soberupandbeamom.”
Noresponse.
Istalkovertothefridge,butallthat’sinsideitisadozencansofDietCokeandajarofpickles.“Getyourjacket,Janette,”Isay,glaringatthemother.“Let’sgetyousomedinner.”
JanettelooksatmelikeI’mspeakingMandarin.IfigureIneedtothrowsomethingmeanintherejusttokeepupappearances.“Hurryup,youlittleturd!”
ShescampersbacktoourroomwhileIsearchthehouseforcarkeys.WhattypeoflifewasIliving?Andwhowasthatcreatureonthecouch?Surelyshehadn’talwaysbeenthatway.Iglanceatthebackofherheadandfeelaspurtofsympathy.Herhusband—myfather—isinprison.Prison!That’sabigdeal.Whereareweevengettingmoneytolive?
Speakingofmoney,Icheckmywallet.Thetwenty-eightdollarsisstillthere.ThatshouldbeenoughtobuyussomethingotherthanDoritos.
JanettecomesoutofthebedroomwearingagreenjacketjustasIfindthekeys.Greenisagoodcoloronher—makesherlooklessangstyteen.
“Ready?”Iask.
Sherollshereyes.
“Okaythen,MommyDearest.Goingtogetsomegrub!”IcalloutbeforeIclosethedoor—mostlytoseeifshe’lltrytostopme.IletJanetteleadthewayintothegarage,anticipatingwhatkindofcarwedrive.Itisn’tgoingtobeaLandRover,that’sforsure.
“Oh,boy,”Isay.“Doesthisthingwork?”Sheignoresme,poppingherearbudsinasIeyethecar.It’sareallyoldOldsmobile.Olderthanme.Itsmellsofcigarettesmokeandoldpeople.Janetteclimbsintothepassengersidewordlesslyandstaresoutthewindow.“Okaythen,ChattyCathy,”Isay.“Let’sseehowmanyblockswecangobeforethisthingbreaksdown.”
Ihaveaplan.ThereceiptIfoundisdatedlastFridayandisfromTheElectricCrushDinerintheFrenchQuarter.Exceptthispieceofcrapcardoesn’thaveGPS.I’llhavetofinditonmyown.
Janetteisquietaswepulloutofthedriveway.Shetracespatternsonthewindowwithherfingertip,foggingandre-foggingtheglasswithherbreath.Iwatchheroutofthecornerofmyeye;poorkid.Hermom’sanalcoholicandherdadisinprison—kindofsad.Shealsohatesme.Thatprettymuchleavesheraloneintheworld.IrealizewithsurprisethatCharlieisinthesamesituation.ExceptmaybeshehasSilas—ordidhaveSilasbeforeshecheatedonhimwithBrian.Ugh.Ishakemyshoulderstogetridofallmyfeels.Ihatethesepeople.They’resoannoying.ExceptIkindoflikeSilas.
Kindof.
TheElectricCrushDinerisonNorthRampartStreet.IfindaparkingspotonacrowdedcornerandhavetoparallelparkbetweenatruckandaMiniCooper.Charlieisanexcellentparallelparker,Ithinkproudly.Janetteclimbsoutaftermeandstandsonthesidewalk,lookinglost.Thedinerisacrossthestreet.Itrytopeerinthroughthewindows,butthey’remostlyblackedout.TheElectricCrushflashesinpinkneonoverthefrontdoor.
“Comeon,”Isay.Iholdoutmyhandtoherandshedrawsback.“Janette!Let’sgo!”ImarchuptoherinwhatcanonlybeanaggressiveCharliemove,andgrabherhand.Shetriestopullawayfromme,butIholdontight,draggingheracrossthestreet.
“Let.Me.Go!”
Assoonaswereachtheotherside,Ispinaroundtofaceher.“What’syourproblem?Stopactinglikea…,”fourteen-year-old,Ifinishinmyhead.
“What?”shesays.“AndwhydoyouevencarewhatIactlike?”Herbottomlipispuffingoutlikeshe’sabouttocry.Isuddenlyfeelverysorryforbeingsoroughwithher.She’sjustalittlekidwithtinyboobsandahormone-addledbrain.
“You’remysister,”Isaygently.“It’stimewesticktogether,don’tyouthink?”Foraminute,Ithinkshe’sgoingtosaysomething—maybesomethingsoftandniceandsisterly—butthenshestompstowardthedineraheadofmeandflingsopenthedoor.Damn.She’satoughcookie.Ifollowherin—alittlesheepishly—andstopdeadinmytracks.
It’snotwhatIthoughtitwasgoingtobe.It’snotreallyadiner—morelikeaclubwithboothsliningthewalls.Inthemiddleoftheroomiswhatlookslikeadancefloor.Janetteisstandingnearthebar,lookingaroundinbewilderment.“Youcomehereoften?”sheasksme.
Ilookfromtheblackleatherboothstotheblackmarblefloors.Everythingisblackasidefromthebrightpinksignsonthewalls.It’smorbidandbubblegum.
“Helpyou?”Amanstepsoutfromadooratthefarendofthebar,carryinganarmfulofboxes.He’syoung—maybeearlytwenties.Ilikehimonsightbecausehe’swearingablackvestoverapinkt-shirt.Charliemustlikepink.
“We’rehungry,”Iblurt.
Hehalfsmilesandnodsovertoabooth.“Kitchendoesn’tusuallyopenforanotherhour,butI’llseewhathecanwhipupforyouifyou’dliketosit.”
Inodandbeelineovertothebooth,pullingJanettealongwithme.“Iwashere,”Itellher.“Lastweekend.”
“Oh”isallshesaysbeforestudyingherfingernails.
Afewminuteslater,thepinkt-shirtguycomesoutoftheback,whistling.Hewalksoverandplacestwohandsonthetable.
“Charlie,right?”heasks.Inoddumbly.Howdoeshe…?HowmanytimeshaveI…?
“Thekitchenwasmakingmearoastchicken.WhatdoyousayIshareitwithyouguys?Wewon’tgetbusyforacouplemorehours,anyway.”
Inodagain.
“Good.”HehitsthetablewithhispalmandJanettejumps.Hepointstoher.“Coke?Sprite?ShirleyTemple?”
Sherollshereyes.“DietCoke,”shesays.
“Andyou,Charlie?”
Idon’tlikethewayhesaysmyname.It’stoo…familiar.“Coke,”Isayquickly.
Whenheleaves,Janetteleansforward,hereyebrowsdrawntogether.“Youalwaysgetdiet,”shesaysaccusatorily.
“Yeah?Well,I’mnotquitefeelinglikemyself.”
Shemakesalittlenoiseinthebackofherthroat.“Nokidding,”shesays.Iignoreherandtrytogetagoodlookaround.WhatwereSilasandIdoinghere?Isitaplacewecameoften?Ilickmylips.
“Janette,”Isay.“HaveIevertoldyouaboutthisplace?”
Shelookssurprised.“Youmeanallthetimeswehaveheart-to-heartswhenweputthelightsoutatnight?”
“Okay,okay,Igetit.I’mareallycrappysister.Geez.Getoveritalready.I’mextendingtheolivebranchhere.”
Janettescrunchesuphernose.“What’sthatmean?”
Isigh.“I’mtryingtomakeituptoyou.Startfresh.”
Justthenthepinkt-shirtdudebringsusourdrinks.HebroughtJanetteaShirleyTempleeventhoughsheaskedforaDietCoke.Herfaceregistersdisappointment.
“ShewantedaDietCoke,”Isay.
“She’lllikethat,”hesays.“WhenIwasakid…”
“JustgetheraDietCoke.”
Heholdsuphishandsinsurrender.“Surething,princess.”
Janetteglancesatmefromunderhereyelashes.“Thanks,”shesays.
“Noproblem,”Isay.“Youcan’ttrustaguywhowearsapinkshirt.”
ShesortofsmirksandIfeeltriumphant.Ican’tbelieveIthoughtIlikedthatguy.Ican’tbelieveIlikedBrian.Whatthehellwaswrongwithme?
IpickupmyphoneandseethatSilashastextedmemultipletimes.Silas.IlikeSilas.Somethingabouthissoothingvoiceandgood-boymanners.Andhisnose—hehasawickedcoolnose.
Silas:Mydad…
Silas:Whereareyou?
Silas:Hello?
Theguycomesbackwiththechickenandaplateofmashedpotatoes.
It’salotoffood.
“What’syournameagain?”Iask.
“You’resuchabitch,Charlie,”hesays,layingaplatedowninfrontofme.HeglancesatJanette.“Sorry,”hesays.
Sheshrugs.“Whatisyourname?”sheasksthroughamouthfuloffood.
“Dover.That’swhatmyfriendscallme.”
Inod.Dover.
“Solastweekend…,”Isay.
Doverbites.“Yeah,thatwascrazy.Ididn’texpecttoseeyoubackherethissoon.”
“Whynot?”Iask.I’mtryingtobecasual,butmyinsidesarejumpingaroundlikethey’rebeingshocked.
“Well,yourmanwasprettypissed.Ithoughthewasgoingtoblowhisshitbeforehegotkickedout.”
“Blowhisshit…?”Ichangemytonesoit’snotsomuchaquestion.“Blowhisshit.Yeah.Thatwas…”
“Youlookedprettypissed,”Doversays.“Ican’tblameyou.YoumighthavelikedithereifSilashadn’truineditforyou.”
Isitback,thechickensuddenlyunappealing.“Yeah,”Isay,glancingatJanette,whoiswatchingusbothcuriously.
“Youfinished,brat?”Iaskher.Shenods,wipinghergreasyfingersonanapkin.Ipullatwentyoutofmypurseanddropitonthetable.
“Noneed,”Doversays,wavingitaway.
Ileandowntillweareeyetoeye.“Onlymyboyfriendgetstobuymedinner,”Isay,leavingthemoneyonthetable.Iwalktothedoor,Janettetrailingbehindme.
“Yeah,well,”Dovercalls,“youlivebythatrule,youcaneatforfreesevendaysaweek!”
Idon’tstopuntilIreachthecar.Somethinghappenedinthere.SomethingthatmadeSilasalmostlosehisshit.IstartthecarandJanetteletsoutaloudburp.Webothstartlaughingatthesametime.
“NomoreDoritosfordinner,”Itellher.“Wecanlearntocook.”
“Sure,”sheshrugs.
EveryonebreakstheirpromisestoJanette.She’sgotthatbitterairabouther.Wedon’tspeakfortherestoftheridehome,andwhenIpullintothegarage,shejumpsoutbeforeI’veturnedofftheengine.
“Nicespendingtimewithyou,too,”Icallafterher.IimaginethatwhenIwalkin,Charlie’smotherwillbewaitingforher—perhapstochewheroutfortakingthecar—butwhenIstepintothehouse,everythingisdarkexceptforthelightunderneaththedoortoJanette’sandmybedroom.Motherhasgonetosleep.Motherdoesn’tcare.It’sperfectforthesituationI’min.Igettosnooparoundandtrytofigureoutwhathappenedtomewithoutthequestionsandrules,butIcan’thelpthinkingaboutJanette,abouthowshe’sjustalittlekidwhoneedsherparents.Everythingissoscrewedup.
JanetteislisteningtomusicwhenIopenthedoor.
“Hey,”Isay.Isuddenlyhaveanidea.“HaveyouseenmyiPod?”Musictellsalotaboutaperson.Idon’thavetohaveamemorytoknowthat.
“Idon’tknow.”Sheshrugs.“Maybeit’swithallyourothercrapintheattic.”
Myothercrap?Theattic?
Isuddenlyfeelexcited.
Maybethere’smoretomethanablandbedspreadandastackofbadnovels.Iwanttoaskherwhatkindofcrap,andwhymycrapisintheatticinsteadofinoursharedbedroom,butJanettehasstuckthebudsbackinherearsandisworkinghardtoignoreme.
Idecidethebestroutewouldbetogouptotheattictocheckthingsoutformyself.Now,whereistheattic?8
Silas
ThefrontdoortomyhouseopensasI’mputtingmycarinpark,andEzrawalksoutside,wringingherhandstogethernervously.Igetoutofthecarandwalktowhereshe’sstanding,wide-eyed.
“Silas,”shesays,hervoicequivering.“Ithoughtheknew.Iwouldn’thavementionedCharliewashere,butyoudidn’tseemtobehidingit,soIthoughtthingshadchangedandshewasallowedoverhere…”
Iholdupmyhandtostopherfrommoreunnecessaryapologies.“It’sfine,Ezra.Really.”
Shesighsandrunsherhandacrosstheapronshe’sstillwearing.Idon’tunderstandhernervousness,orwhysheanticipatedIwouldbeangrywithher.Ishovemorereassuranceintomysmilethanisprobablynecessary,butshelooksasifsheneedsit.
Shenodsandfollowsmeinsidethehouse.Ipauseinthefoyer,notquitefamiliarenoughwiththehousetoknowwheremyfatherwouldbeatthemoment.Ezrapassesme,mutteringa“goodnight,”andheadsupthestairs.Shemustlivehere.
“Silas.”
Itsoundslikemyvoice,butmoreworn.Iturnandamsuddenlyfacetofacewiththemaninallthefamilyphotosliningthewalls.He’smissingthebrilliantlyfakesmile,though.
Heeyesmeupanddown,asifthemeresightofhissondisappointshim.
Heturnsandwalksthroughadoorleadingoutofthefoyer.HissilenceandtheassuranceinhisstepsdemandIfollowhim,soIdo.Wewalkintohisstudy,andheslowlyedgesaroundhisdeskandtakesaseat.Heleansforwardandfoldshisarmsoverthemahoganywood.“Caretoexplain?”
I’mtemptedtoexplain.Ireallyam.IwanttotellhimthatIhavenoideawhoheis,noideawhyhe’sangry,noideawhoIam.
Ishouldprobablybenervousorintimidatedbyhim.I’msureyesterday’sSilaswouldhavebeen,butit’shardtofeelintimidatedbysomeoneIdon’tknowatall.AsfarasI’mconcerned,hehasnopoweroverme,andpoweristheprimaryingredientofintimidation.
“Caretoexplainwhat?”Iask.
Myeyesmovetoashelfofbooksonthewallbehindhim.Theylooklikeclassics.Collectibles.Iwonderifhe’sreadanyofthebooksorifthey’rejustmoreingredientsforhisintimidation.
“Silas!”Hisvoiceissodeepandsharp;itfeelslikethetipofaknifepiercingmyears.Ipressmyhandagainstthesideofmyneckandsqueezebeforelookingathimagain.Heeyesthechairacrossfromhim,silentlycommandingmetositdown.
Igetthefeelingyesterday’sSilaswouldbesayingYes,sirrightaboutnow.
Today’sSilassmilesandwalksslowlytohisseat.
“Whywassheinsidethishousetoday?”
He’sreferringtoCharlielikeshe’spoison.He’sreferringtoherthesamewayhermotherreferredtome.Ilookdownatthearmofthechairandpickatapieceofwornleather.“Shewasn’tfeelingwellatschool.Sheneededaridehome,andwetookaquickdetour.”
Thisman…myfather…leansbackinhischair.Hebringsahanduptohisjawandrubsit.
Fivesecondspass.Tensecondspass.Fifteen.
Hefinallyleansforwardagain.“Youseeingheragain?”
Isthisatrickquestion?Becauseitfeelslikeone.
IfIsayyes,it’llobviouslypisshimoff.IfIsayno,itfeelslikeI’llbelettinghimwin.Idon’tknowwhy,butIreallydon’twantthismantowin.Heseemslikehe’saccustomedtowinning.
“WhatifIam?”
Hishandisnolongerrubbinghisjawbecauseit’snowmovingacrossthedesk,fistingintothecollarofmyshirt.Heyanksmetowardhimjustasmyhandsgriptheedgesofthedeskforresistance.We’reeyetoeyenow,andIexpecthe’sabouttohitme.Iwonderifthistypeofinteractionwithhimiscommon.
InsteadofhittingmelikeIknowhewantsto,hepusheshisfistagainstmychestandreleasesme.Ifallbackintomyseat,butonlyforasecond.Ipushoutofmychairandtakeafewstepsback.
Iprobablyshouldhavehittheasshole,butIdon’thatehimenoughtodothatyet.Ialsodon’tlikehimenoughtobeaffectedbyhisreaction.Itdoesconfuseme,though.
Hepicksupapaperweightandhurlsitacrosstheroom,luckilynotinmydirection.Itsmashesagainstawoodenshelfandknocksthecontentstothefloor.Afewbooks.Apictureframe.Arock.
Istandstillandwatchhimpacebackandforth,beadsofsweatdrippingfromhisforehead.Idon’tunderstandwhyhecouldpossiblybethisupsetoverthefactthatCharliewasheretoday.EspeciallysinceEzrasaidwegrewuptogether.
Hispalmsarenowflatagainstthedesk.He’sbreathingheavily,nostrilsflaringlikearagingbull.Iexpecthimtostartkickingupdustwithhisfootanysecondnow.“Wehadanunderstanding,Silas.Meandyou.Iwasn’tgoingtopushyoutotestifyifyousworetomeyouwouldn’tseethatman’sdaughteragain.”Oneofhishandsflailstowardalockedcabinetwhilehisotherhandrunsthroughwhat’sleftofhisthinninghair.“Iknowyoudon’tthinkshetookthosefilesfromthisoffice,butIknowshedid!AndtheonlyreasonIhaven’tpursueditfurtherisbecauseyousworetomewewouldn’thavetodealwiththatfamilyagain.Andhereyouare…”Heshudders.Literallyshudders.“Hereyouarebringinghertothishouselikethelasttwelvemonthsneverevenhappened!”Morefrustratedhandflailing,twistedfacialexpressions.“Thatgirl’sfatheralmostruinedthisfamily,Silas!Doesthatnotmeanadamnthingtoyou?”
Notreally,Iwanttosay.
Imakeamentalnotetonevergetthisangry.It’snotanattractivelookonaNash.
Isearchforsomesortofemotionthatconveysremorse,sothathecanseeitonmyface.It’shard,though,whentheonlythingI’mexperiencingiscuriosity
Thedoortotheofficeopensandwebothmoveourattentiontowhomeverisentering.
“Landon,thisdoesn’tconcernyou,”myfathersays,hisvoicesoft.Ibrieflyfacemyfatheragain,justtomakesurethewordsactuallyfellfromhismouthandnotsomeoneelse’s.Italmostsoundslikethevoiceofacaringfather,ratherthanthemonsterIjustwitnessed.
Landon—nicetofinallyknowmylittlebrother’sname—looksatme.“Coachisonthephoneforyou,Silas.”
Iglancebackatmyfather,whonowhashisbackturnedtome.Iassumethatmeansourconversationisover.Iwalktowardthedoorandgladlyexittheroom,followedcloselybyLandon.
“Where’sthephone?”IaskhimwhenIreachthestairs.Validquestion,though.HowamIsupposedtoknowifhecalledonacellphoneoralandline?
Landonlaughsandmovespastme.“There’snophonecall.Iwasjustgettingyououtofthere.”
HecontinuesupthestairsandIwatchashereachesthetopandthenturnsleft,disappearingdownthehall.He’sagoodbrother,Ithink.ImakemywaytowhatIassumeishisroom,andIknocklightlyonthedoor.It’sslightlyajar,soIpushitopen.“Landon?”Iopenthedoorallthewayandhe’sseatedatadesk.Helooksoverhisshoulderbrieflyandthenreturnshisattentiontohiscomputer.“Thanks,”Isay,steppingintotheroomDobrothersthankeachother?Probablynot.IshouldhavesaidsomethingalongthelinesofTookyoulongenough,asshole.
Landonturnsinhischairandtiltshishead.Acombinationofconfusionandadmirationplaysoutinhissmile.“I’mnotsurewhatyourdealis.Youaren’tshowingupforpractice,andthat’sneverhappened.Youactlikeyoudon’tgiveashitthatCharliehasbeenscrewingBrianFinley.Andthenyouhavetheballstobringherhere?AfteralltheshitDadandBrettwentthrough?”Heshakeshishead.“I’msurprisedyouescapedhisofficewithoutabloodbath.”
Hespinsbackaroundandleavesmetoprocesseverything.Iturnandrushtowardmybedroom.
BrettWynwood,BrettWynwood,BrettWynwood.
IrepeathisnameinmyheadsoI’llknowexactlywhattosearchwhenIgettomycomputer.SurelyIhaveacomputer.
WhenIreachmyroom,thefirstthingIdoiswalktomydresser.IpickupthepenCharliehandedmeearliertodayandreadtheimprintagain.
WYNWOOD-NASHFINANCIALGROUP
IsearchtheroomuntilIfinallyfindalaptopstuffedinthedrawerofmybedsidetable.Ipoweritonandenterthepassword.
Irememberthepassword?Addthattothelistofshitthatmakesnosense.
ItypeWynwood-NashFinancialGroupintothesearchengine.IclickonthefirstresultandamtakentoapagethatreadsNashFinance,withtheWynwoodnoticeablyabsent.Iscrollquicklythroughthepageanddiscovernothingthathelps.Justabunchofuselesscompanycontactinformation.
Ibackoutofthepageandscrollthroughtherestoftheresults,readingeachoftheleadingheadlinesandthearticlesthatfollow:
FinancegurusClarkNashandBrettWynwood,co-foundersofWynwood-NashFinancialGroup,havebeenchargedwithfourcountsofconspiracy,fraud,andillegaltrading.
Partnersforovertwentyyears,thetwobusinessmogulsarenowplacingtheblameoneachother,bothclaimingtohavenoknowledgeoftheillegalpracticesuncoveredduringarecentinvestigation.
Ireadanother.
ClarkNashclearedofcharges.Companyco-chair,BrettWynwood,sentencedtofifteenyearsforfraudandembezzlement.
Imakeittothesecondpageofsearchresultswhenthebatterylightbeginstoflashonthelaptop.Iopenthedrawer,butthere’snocharger.Ilookeverywhere.Underthebed,inthecloset,inmydresserdrawers.
Thelaptopdiesduringmysearch.Ibegintousemyphonetoresearch,butit’sabouttodie,too,andtheonlyphonechargerIcanfindplugsintoalaptop.IkeeplookingbecauseIneedtoknowexactlywhathappenedtomakethesetwofamilieshateeachothersomuch.
Iliftthemattress,thinkingmaybethechargercouldbestuckbehindthebedsomehow.Idon’tfindthecharger,butIdofindwhatlookslikeanotebook.Islideitoutfromunderthemattressandthentakeaseatontopofthebed.RightwhenIopenituptothefirstpage,myphonevibrateswithanincomingtext.
Charlie:Howarethingswithyourfather?
IwanttolearnmorebeforedecidingwhatIwanttosharewithher.Iignorethetextandopenthenotebooktofindstacksofpapersstuffedintoafolder.Acrossthetop,thepapersallreadWynwood-NashFinancialGroup,butIdon’tunderstandanyofthem.Ialsodon’tunderstandwhythesewerehiddenbeneathmymattress.
ClarkNash’swordsfromdownstairsrepeatinmyhead—Iknowyoudon’tthinkshetookthosefilesfromthisoffice,Silas,butIknowshedid.
Lookslikehewaswrong,butwhywouldIhavetakenthem?WhatwouldIhaveneededwiththem?
WhowasItryingtoprotect?
Myphonebuzzesagainwithanothertext.
Charlie:There’sthisreallyneatfeatureonyourphonecalled“readreceipts.”Ifyou’regoingtoignoretexts,youshouldprobablyturnthatoff.
Atleastsheputawinkyface.
Me:Notignoringyou.Justtired.Wehavealottofigureouttomorrow.
Charlie:Yeah
That’sallshesays.I’mnotsureifIshouldrespondtohereffortlessreply,butIdon’twanthertobeirritatedifIdon’trespond.
Me:Goodnight,Charliebaby.
AssoonasIhitsend,Iwanttoretractit.Idon’tknowwhatIwasgoingforwiththatreply.Notsarcasm,butdefinitelynotflirtation,either.
Idecidetoregretittomorrow.RightnowIjustneedsleepsoIcanmakesureI’mawakeenoughinthemorningtodealwithallofthis.
Ishovethenotebookbackunderthemattressandseeawallcharger,soIplugitintomyphone.I’mtooexhaustedtokeepsearchingtonight,soIkickoffmyshoes.Itisn’tuntilIliedownthatInoticeEzrachangedmysheets.
AssoonasIturnthelampoffandclosemyeyes,myphonevibrates.
Charlie:Goodnight,Silas.
Herlackofendearmentdoesn’tgounnoticed,butforsomeinexplicablereason,thetextstillmakesmesmile.TypicalCharlie.
Ithink.9
Charlie
Itisnotagoodnight.
ThetrapdoortotheatticisintheclosetIsharewithmysister.AfterItextSilasgoodnight,Iclimbthethreeshelves—whichareburstingwithfabric—andpushupwardwithmyfingertipsuntilitshiftsleft.IglancebackovermyshoulderandseethatJanettehasn’tlookedupfromherphone.Thismustbenormal—meclimbingintotheattic,leavingherbehind.Iwanttoaskifshe’llcomewithme,butitwasexhaustingjusttogethertocometodinner.Anothertime,Ithink.I’llfigureouthowtofixthingsbetweenus.
Idon’tknowwhy,butasIhoistmyselfthroughtheholeandintoanevensmallerspace,IpictureSilas’sface;thetan,smoothskin.Hisfulllips.HowmanytimeshadItastedhismouthandyetIcan’trememberasinglekiss.
Theairiswarmandstuffy.Icrawlonmykneestoapileofpillowsandpressmybacktothem,straighteningmylegsoutinfrontofme.There’saflashlightstandingatopapileofbooks.Iclickiton,examiningtheirspines;storiesIknow,butdon’trememberreading.Howoddtobemadeofflesh,balancedonbone,andfilledwithasoulyou’venevermet.
Ipickupherbooksonebyoneandreadthefirstpageofeach.Iwanttoknowwhosheis—whoIam.WhenI’veexhaustedthepile,Ifindalargerbookatthebottom,boundincreasedredleather.MyimmediatethoughtisthatI’vefoundajournal.MyhandsshakeasIfoldopenthepages.
Notajournal.Ascrapbook.LettersfromSilas.
IknowthisbecausehesignseachonewithasharpSthatalmostlookslikealightningbolt.AndIknowIlikehishandwriting,directanddistinct.Paper-clippedtothetopofeachnoteisaphoto—presumablyonethatSilashastaken.Ireadonenoteafteranother,pouringoverwords.Loveletters.Silasisinlove.
It’sbeautiful.
Helikestoimaginealifewithme.Inoneletter,writtenonthebackofabrownpapersack,hedetailsthewaywewillspendChristmaswhenwehaveourownplace:spikedappleciderbytheChristmastree,rawcookiedoughthatweeatbeforewegetthechancetobakeit.Hetellsmehewantstomakelovetomewithonlycandleslightingtheroomsothathecanseemybodyglowinthecandlelight.ThephotopaperclippedtothenoteisofatinyChristmastreethatlookslikeit’sinhisbedroom.Wemusthavesetituptogether.
Ifindanotherwrittenonthebackofareceiptinwhichhedetailswhatitfeelsliketobeinsideofme.MyfacegrowswarmasIreadthenoteoverandover,revelinginhislust.Thephotopaperclippedtothisoneisofmybareshoulder.Hisphotospackapunch—justlikehiswords.Theytakemybreath,andI’mnotsureifthepartofmeIcan’trememberisinlovewithhim.Ifeelonlycuriositytowardthedark-hairedboywholooksatmesoearnestly.
Isetthenoteaside,feelinglikeI’msnoopingonsomeoneelse’slife,andclosethebook.ThisbelongedtoCharlie.I’mnother.IfallasleepsurroundedbySilas’swords,thesprinklingoflettersandsentencesswirlingaroundinmyheaduntil…
Agirldropstoherkneesinfrontofme.“Listentome,”shewhispers.“Wedon’thavemuchtime…”
ButIdon’tlistentoher.Ipushherawayandthenshe’sgone.Iamstandingoutside.Thereisafireburningfromanoldmetaltrashcan.Irubmyhandstogethertogetwarm.FromsomewherebehindmeIcanhearasaxophoneplaying,butthesoundmorphsintoascream.That’swhenIrun.Irunthroughthefirethatwasinthetrashcan,butnowitiseverywhere,lickingthebuildingsalongthestreet.Irun,chokingonsmokeuntilIseeonepink-facedstorefrontthatisfreeofflameandsmoke,thougheverythingarounditburns.Itisashopofcuriosities.Iopenthedoorwithoutthoughtbecauseitistheonlyplacesafefromtheflames.Silasistherewaitingforme.Heleadsmepastbonesandbooksandbottlesandtakesmetoabackroom.Awomansitsonathronemadeofbrokenmirrors,staringdownatmewithathinsmileonherlips.Thepiecesofmirrorreflectslicesoflightacrossthewallswheretheyjiggleanddance.IturntolookatSilas,toaskhimwhereweare,buthe’sgone.“Hurry!”
Iwakewithastart.
Janetteisleaningthroughtheslatofspaceintheclosetroof,shakingmyfoot.“Youhavetogetup,”shesays.“Youdon’thaveanymoreskipdaysleft.”
Iamstillinthedankatticspace.Iwipethesleepfrommyeyesandfollowherdownthethreeshelvestoourroom.I’mtouchedsheknowsI’moutofskipdays,andthatshecaredenoughtowakemeup.I’mshakingwhenIreachthebathroomandturnontheshower.Ihaven’tshakenthedream.Icanstillseemyreflectioninthebrokenshardsofherthrone.
Thefireswimsinandoutofmyvision,waitingbehindmyeyelidseverytimeIblink.IfIconcentrate,IcansmelltheashabovethebodywashI’musing,abovethesickeninglysweetshampooIpourintomyhand.IclosemyeyesandtrytorememberSilas’swords…Youarewarmandwet,andyourbodygripsmelikeitdoesn’twantmetoleave.
Janettepoundsonthedoor.“Late!”sheyells.
Ihurrytodressandwe’retumblingoutthefrontdoorbeforeIrealizeIdon’tevenknowhowJanetteexpectswe’regettingtoschooltoday.ItoldSilastopickmeupyesterday.
“Amyshouldbeherealready,”Janettesays.Shefoldsherarmsacrossherchestandpeersdownthestreet.It’slikeshecan’tevenstandtolookatmeIpulloutmyphoneandtextSilastolethimknownottopickmeup.IalsochecktoseeifthisAmyhastextedme,rightasalittlesilverMercedeswhipsaroundthecorner.
“Amy,”Isay.Iwonderifshe’soneofthegirlsIsatwithatlunchyesterday.Ihardlynoticednamesandfaces.Thecarpullstothecurbandwewalkforward.Janetteclimbsintothebackseatwithoutaword,andafterafewsecondsofdeliberationIopenthefrontdoor.IstareatherinsurpriseforaminutebeforeIclimbintothecar.
“Hey,”shesays,withoutlookingover.I’mgratefulforherdistractionbecauseIhaveamomenttostudyher.
“Hi.”
She’spretty;herhair,whichislighterthanherskin,isbraidedtoherwaist.Sheseemsateasewithme—nottomentionshe’sgivingmysoursisterandmearidetoschool.Wemustbegoodfriends,Idecide.
“Gladtoseeyou’refeelingbetter.Didyoufigureoutwhatyou’regoingtodoaboutSilas?”sheasksme.
“I…I…er…Silas?”
“Uhhuh,”shesays.“That’swhatIthought.Youstilldon’tknow.It’sashame,too,becauseyouguyscanbereallygoodtogetherwhenyoutry.”
Isitinsilenceuntilwe’vealmostreachedtheschool,wonderingwhatshemeans.“Amy,”Isay.“HowwouldyoudescribemyrelationshipwithSilastosomeonewhohasnevermetus?”
“See,thisisyourproblem,”shesays.“Youalwayswanttoplaygames.”ShepullsuptothefrontoftheschoolandJanetteclimbsout.It’salllikeclockwork.
“Bye,”Icallasthedoorcloses.“She’ssomean,”Isay,facingforwardagain.
Amypullsaface.“Andyou’requeenofnice?Seriously,Idon’tknowwhat’scomeoveryou.You’reevenmoreoutofitthannormal.”
Ichewonmylipsaswepullintothehighschoolparkinglot.Iopenthedoorbeforethecarhasevenstopped.
“Whatthehell,Charlie?”
Idon’twaittohearwhatelseshehastosay.Irunfortheschool,myarmswrappedtightlyaroundmytorso.Dideveryonehateme?IduckmyheadasIpushthroughthedoors.IneedtofindSilas.PeoplearelookingatmeasIwalkthehallway.Idon’tlookleftorright,butIcanfeeltheireyes.WhenIreachformyphonetotextSilas,it’sgone.IballupmyfistsIhadmyphonewhenItextedandtoldhimIdidn’tneedaride.ImusthaveleftitinAmy’scar.
I’monmywaybacktowardtheparkinglotwhensomeonecallsmyname.
Brian.
Iglancearoundtoseewho’swatchingusashejogstowardme.HiseyestilllooksalittlebruisedfromwhereIpunchedhim.Ilikethat.
“What?”Isay.
“Youhitme.”Hestopsafewfeetawaylikehe’safraidI’mgoingtodoitagain.Isuddenlyfeelguilty.Ishouldn’thavedonethat.WhatevergameI’dbeenplayingwithhimbeforeallofthishappenedwasn’thisfault.
“I’msorry,”Isay.“Ihaven’tbeenmyselflately.Ishouldn’thavedonethat.”
ItlookslikeI’vetoldhimexactlywhathewantstohear.Hisfacerelaxesandherunsahandalongthebackofhisneckashelooksatme.
“Canwegosomewheremoreprivatetotalk?”
Ilookaroundatthecrowdedhallwayandshakemyhead.“No.”
“Allright,”hesays.“Thenwecandothishere.”Ishiftfromonefoottoanotherandlookovermyshoulder.Dependingonhowlonghetakes,IcanstillcatchAmyandgetthekeystohercarand…
“It’sSilasorme.”
Myheadjerksbacktolookathim.“What?”
“Iloveyou,Charlie.”
Oh,God.Ifeelitchyallover.Itakeastepback,lookingaroundforsomeonetohelpmegetoutofthis.“Nowisareallybadtimeforme,Brian.IneedtofindAmyand—”
“Iknowyouguyshavehistory,butyou’vebeenunhappyforalongtime.Thatguy’sadick,Charlie.Yousawwhathappenedwiththeshrimp.I’msurprised—”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
HelooksputoutthatI’veinterruptedhisspeech.“I’mtalkingaboutSilasand—”
“No,theshrimpthing.”Peoplearestoppingtowatchusnow.Clustersofnosinessformatlockers;eyes,eyes,eyesonmyface.I’msouncomfortablewiththis.Ihateit.
“Her.”Brianjerkshisheadleftjustasagirlpushesthroughthedoorsandmakesherwaypastus.Whensheseesmelooking,herfaceturnsabrightpinkcolor,likeashrimp.Irecognizeherfrommyclassyesterday.Shewastheoneonthefloor,pickingupthebooks.She’stiny.Herhairisanuglyshadeofgreenishbrown,likeshetriedtodyeitherselfanditwentterriblywrong.Butevenifshehadn’tdyedit,itlooks…sad.Jagged,unevenbangs,oilyandlank.Shehasasmatteringofpimplesacrossherforeheadandanosethat’spugged.MyfirstthoughtisUgly.Butit’smoreofafactthanajudgment.SheskittersawaybeforeIcanblink,disappearingintoacrowdofonlookers.Ihaveafeelingshehasn’tleft.She’swaitingrightbehindtheirbacks—shewantstohear.Ifeltsomething…whenIsawherfaceIfeltsomething.
MyheadisswimmingwhenBrianreachesforme.Ilethimgrabmebytheelbowandpullmetowardhischest.
“It’smeorSilas,”hesaysagain.He’sbeingboldsinceIalreadypunchedhimfortouchingme.ButI’mnotthinkingabouthim.I’mthinkingaboutthegirl,theshrimp,wonderingifshe’sbackthere,hidingbehindeveryoneelse.“Ineedananswer,Charlie.”HehasmesoclosethatwhenIlookintohisfaceIcanseethefrecklesinhiseyes.
“ThenmyanswerisSilas,”Isaysoftly.
Hefreezes.Icanfeelthestiffeningofhisbody.10
Silas
“Yougonnashowupforpracticetoday?”Landonasks.He’salreadystandingoutsidemydoorandIdon’tevenrememberpullingintotheparkinglotoftheschool,muchlessturningoffthecar.Inod,butfailtomakeeyecontactwithhim.I’dbeensolostinsidemyownthoughtsduringthedriveover,Ididn’teventhinktoprodhimforinformation.
I’vebeenhunguponthefactthatIdidn’twakeupwithmemories.IwashopingCharliewasright—thatwewouldwakeupandeverythingwouldbebacktonormal.Butwedidn’tandit’snot.
OratleastIdidn’twakeupwithmemories.Ihaven’tspokentoCharliesincelastnight,andhertextthismorningrevealednothing.
Ididn’tevenopenthetext.ItflashedonmylockscreenandIreadenoughofthefirstsentencetoknowIdidn’tlikehowitmademefeel.Mythoughtsimmediatelywanderedtowhomightbepickingherupandifshewasokaywithit.
Myprotectiveinstinctskickinwheneveritcomestoher,andIdon’tknowifit’salwaysbeenthatwayorifit’sbecauseshe’stheonlyoneIcanrelatetorightnow.
Igetoutofthecar,determinedtofindher.Makesureshe’sokay,eventhoughIknowshemorethanlikelyis.Idon’thavetoknowanymoreabouthertoknowthatshedoesn’treallyneedmetotakecareofher.She’sfiercelyindependent.
Thatdoesn’tmeanIwon’tstilltry.
WhenIentertheschool,itoccurstomethatIdon’tknowwheretobeginsearchingforher.Neitherofuscanrememberwhichlockersareours,andconsideringthishappenedtousbothduringfourthperiodyesterday,wehavenoideawhereourfirst,second,orthirdperiodclassesare.
Idecidetowalktotheadministrationofficeandseeaboutgettinganewcopyofmyschedule.HopefullyCharliethoughttodothesame,becauseIdoubtthey’llgivemehers.
Thesecretaryisunfamiliar,butshesmilesknowinglyatme.“HeretoseeMs.Ashley,Silas?”
Ms.Ashley.
Istarttoshakemyheadno,butshe’salreadypointingmeinthedirectionofanopenofficedoor.WhoeverMs.Ashleyis,Imustvisitherenoughthatmypresenceintheofficeisn’tunusual.
BeforeImakeittotheopenofficedoor,awomanstepsout.She’stall,attractiveandappearsextremelyyoungtobeanemployee.Whatevershedoeshere,shehasn’tbeendoingitlong.Shebarelylooksoldenoughtobeoutofcollege.
“Mr.Nash,”shesayswithavaguesmile,flickingherblondehairbackoverhershoulder.“Doyouhaveanappointment?”
Ipauseandstopmyadvancementtowardher.IglancebackatthesecretaryrightwhenMs.Ashleywavesitoff.“It’sfine,Ihaveafewminutes.Comeinside.”
Imovegingerlypasther,takinginthenameplateonthedoorasIenterheroffice.
AVRILASHLEY,GUIDANCECOUNSELOR
SheclosesthedoorbehindmeandIlookaroundtheoffice,whichisdecoratedinmotivationalquotesandtypicalpostersportrayingpositivemessages.Isuddenlyfeeluncomfortable.Trapped.IshouldhavesaidIdidn’tneedtoseeher,butI’mhopingthiscounselor—oneIapparentlyvisitedregularly—willknowafewthingsaboutmypastthatmaybeofhelptoCharlieandme.
Iturn,justasMs.Ashley’shandslidesdownthedoorandreachesthelock.Sheturnsitandthenbeginstosauntertowardme.Herhandsmeetmychestandrightbeforehermouthconnectswithmine,Istumblebackwardandcatchmyselfonafilingcabinet.
Whoa.
Whatthehell?
ShelooksoffendedthatIjustshookoffheradvance.Thismustnotbeunusualbehaviorwithus.
I’msleepingwiththeguidancecounselor?
IimmediatelythinkofCharlieand,basedonourobviousnoncommitmenttooneanother,Iquestionwhatkindofrelationshipwehad.Whywereweeventogether?
“Issomethingwrong?”Ms.Ashleysays.
Iturnslightlyandtakeafewstepsawayfromher,towardthewindow.“Notfeelingverywelltoday.”Ilookherintheeyesandforceasmile.“Don’twanttogetyousick.”
Mywordsputherateaseandsheclosesthespacebetweenusagain,thistimeleaninginandpressingherlipsagainstmyneck.“Poorthing,”shepurrs.“Wantmetomakeyoufeelbetter?”
Myeyesarewide,dartingaroundtheroom,mappingoutmyescaperoute.Myattentionfallstothecomputeronherdesk,andthenaprinterbehindherchair.“Ms.Ashley,”Isay,gentlypushingherawayfrommyneck.
Thisiswrongonsomanylevels.
Shelaughs.“Younevercallmethatwhenwe’realone.It’sweird.”She’stoocomfortablewithme.Ineedtogetoutofhere.
“Avril,”Isay,smilingatheragain.“Ineedafavor.CanyouprintacopyofmineandCharlie’sschedules?”
Sheimmediatelystraightensup,hersmilewhiskedawayatthementionofCharlie’sname.Pointofcontention,apparently.
“I’mthinkingaboutswitchingacoupleofmyclassessoIwon’thavetobearoundherasmuch.”Couldn’tbefurtherfromthetruth.
Ms.Ashley—Avril—slidesherfingersdownmychest,thesmilereappearingonherface.“Well,it’sabouttime.Finallydecidedtotakethecounselor’sadvice,Isee.”
Hervoicedripswithsex.Icanseehowthingsmusthavestartedupwithher,butitmakesmefeelshallow.ItmakesmehatewhoIwas.
Ishiftonmyfeetassheworksherwaytoherseatandbeginsclickingatherkeyboard.
Shepullsfreshlyprintedpagesfromtheprinterandwalksthemovertome.Iattempttotaketheschedulesfromherhand,butshepullsthemawaywithagrin.“Uh-uh,”shesays,shakingherheadslowly.“Thesearegonnacostyou.”Sheleansagainstherdeskandlaysthesheetsofpaperbesideher,facedown.ShebringshereyesbacktomineandIcanseeI’mnotleavingwithoutappeasingher,whichisthelastthingIwanttodorightnow.
Itaketwoslowstepstowardherandrestmyhandsoneithersideofher.IleanintoherneckandcanhearhergaspwhenIbegintospeak.“Avril,IonlyhavefiveminutesleftbeforeIhavetobeinclass.There’snowayIcandoallthethingsIwanttodotoyouinjustfiveminutes.”
IslipmyhandtothescheduleslyingonherdeskandIbackawaywiththem.She’stuggingonherbottomlip,staringupatmewithheatedeyes.“Comebackduringlunch,”shewhispers.“Willanhourbesufficient,Mr.Nash?”
Iwinkather.“Iguessit’llhavetodo,”IsayasIheadoutthedoor.Idon’tpauseuntilI’mdownthehallwayandaroundthecorner,outofherlineofsight.
Theeighteen-year-oldirresponsiblesideofmewantstohighfivemyselfforhavingapparentlysnaggedtheschoolcounselor,butthereasonablesideofmewantstopunchmyselffordoingsomethinglikethattoCharlie.
Charlieisobviouslythebetterchoice,andIhateknowingthatIwasputtingthatrelationshipatrisk.
Butthenagain,sowasCharlie.
Luckily,thescheduleslistourlockernumbersandcombinations.Hersis543andmineis544.I’mguessingthatwasintentional.
Iopenmylockerfirst,andfindthreetextbooksstackedinside.There’sahalf-emptycoffeeinfrontofthebooksandanemptyCinnamonRollwrapper.Therearetwopicturestapedtotheinsideofthelocker:oneofCharlieandme,theotherjustofCharlie.
Ipullthepictureofherdownandstareatit.Why,ifweweren’thappytogether,doIhavepicturesofherinmylocker?Especiallythisone.Iobviouslytookit,asit’ssimilarinstyletothepictureshangingaroundmyroom.
She’ssittingcross-leggedonacouch.Herheadistiltedslightlyandshe’sstaringdirectlyatthecamera.
Hereyesareintense—lookingintothecameraasifshe’slookingintome.She’sbothconfidentandcomfortable,andalthoughsheisn’tsmilingorlaughinginthephoto,Icantellshe’shappy.Wheneverthiswastaken,itwasagooddayforher.Forus.Hereyesarescreamingathousandthingsinthisphoto,buttheloudestisIloveyou,Silas!
Istareatitawhilelongerandthenplacethephotobackinsidethelocker.Icheckmyphonetoseeifshe’stexted.Shehasn’t.Ilookaround,justasLandonapproachesfromdownthehall.Hetosseswordsoverhisshoulderashepassesme.“LookslikeBrianisn’tquiteoutofthepictureyet,brother.”
Thebellrings.
IlookinthedirectionLandoncamefromandseeaheaviercrowdofstudentsatthatendofthehallway.Peopleseemtobestalling,glancingovertheirshoulders.Somearelookingatme,somearefixatedonwhateverisattheendofthehallway.Ibegintowalkinthatdirectionandeveryone’sattentionfallsonmeasIpass.
Abreakinthecrowdbeginstoshapeandthat’swhenIseeher.She’sstandingagainstarowoflockers,huggingherselfwithherarms.Brianisleaningagainstoneofthelockers,lookingatherintently.Helooksdeepinconversation,whereasshejustappearsguarded.Hespotsmealmostimmediatelyandhisposturestiffensalongwithhisexpression.Charliefollowshisgazeuntilhereyeslandonmine.
AsmuchasIcanassumeshedoesn’tneedrescuing,relieffallsoverherassoonaswelockeyes.Asmiletugsatherlips,andIwantnothingmorethantogethimawayfromher.Ispendtwosecondsdeliberating.ShouldIthreatenhim?ShouldIhithimlikeIwantedsobadlytohithimyesterdayintheparkinglot?Neitheroftheseactionsfeelsasthoughthey’llmakethepointIwanttomake.
“Youshouldgettoclass,”Ihearhersaytohim.Herwordsarequick,awarning,asifshe’safraidI’vedecidedtopunchhim.Shedoesn’thavetoworry.WhatI’mabouttodowillhurtBrianFinleyahellofalotmorethanifIweretojusthithim.
Thesecondbellrings.Noonemoves.Therearenostudentsrushingtoclasstoavoidbeinglate.Noonearoundmeshufflesdownthehallatthesoundofthebell.
They’reallwaiting.Watching.Expectingmetostartafight.Iwonderifthat’swhattheoldSilaswoulddo.Iwonderifthat’swhatthenewSilasshoulddo.
IignoreeveryonebutCharlieandwalkconfidentlytowardher,keepingmyeyestrainedonhertheentiretime.AssoonasBrianseesmeapproaching,hetakestwostepsawayfromher.IlookdirectlyathimwhileIstretchoutmyhandtowardher,givingherthechoicetotakeitandgowithmeorremainwheresheis.
Ifeelherfingersslidebetweenmineandshegripsmyhandtightly.Ipullherawayfromthelockers,awayfromBrian,awayfromthecrowdofstudents.Assoonasweroundthecorner,shedropsmyhandandstopswalking.
“Thatwasalittledramatic,don’tyouthink?”shesays.
Iturntofaceher.Hereyesarenarrowed,buthermouthcouldpassforsmiling.Ican’ttellifshe’samusedorangry.
“Theyexpectedacertainreactionfromme.What’dyouwantmetodo,taphimontheshoulderandaskpolitelyifIcouldcutin?”
Shefoldsherarmsoverherchest.“WhatmakesyouthinkIneededyoutodoanything?”
Idon’tunderstandherhostility.Itseemedlikeweleftongoodtermslastnight,soI’mconfusedastowhysheseemssoangrywithme.
Sherubsherhandsupanddownherarmsandthenhereyesfalltothefloor.“Sorry,”shemutters.“Ijust…”Shelooksupattheceilingandgroans.“Iwasjustproddinghimforinformation.That’stheonlyreasonIwaswithhiminthehallwayjustnow.Iwasn’tflirting.”
Herresponsecatchesmeoffguard.Idon’tlikethelookofguiltinherexpression.That’snotwhyIpulledherawayfromhim,butIrealizenowthatshethinksIreallyamupsetwithherforbeingwithhim.Icouldtellshedidn’twanttobethere,butmaybeshedoesn’trealizehowwellI’velearnedtoreadher.
Itakeasteptowardher.Whensheliftshereyestomeetmine,Ismile.“WoulditmakeyoufeelbettertoknowIwascheatingonyouwiththeguidancecounselor?”
Shesucksinaquickrushofairandshockregistersonherface.
“Youweren’ttheonlyonewhowasn’tcommittedtous,Charlie.Apparentlywebothhadissuesweneededtoworkout,sodon’tbesohardonyourself.”
Reliefprobablyisn’tthereactionagirlshouldhavetofindingoutherboyfriendhasbeencheatingonher,butit’sdefinitelywhatCharliefeelsrightnow.IcanseeitinhereyesandIcanhearitinthepent-upbreathshereleases.
“Wow…,”shesays,herhandsfallingtoherhips.“Sotechnically,we’retied?”
Tied?Ishakemyhead.“Thisisn’tagameIwanttowin,Charlie.Ifanything,I’dsaywebothlost.”
Herlipsspreadintoaghostlygrin,andthenshelooksoverhershoulder.“Weshouldfigureoutwhereourclassesare.”
Iremembertheschedulesandpullhersoutofmybackpocket.“We’renottogetheruntilfourthperiodHistory.YouhaveEnglishfirst.It’sbackintheotherhallway,”Isay,motioningtowardherfirstperiodclassroom.
Shenodsappreciativelyandunfoldstheschedule.“Smartthinking,”shesays,glancingitover.Shelooksbackupatmewithawickedsmile.“Iguessyougotthesefromyourguidancecounselormistress?”
Herwordsmakemewince,eventhoughIshouldn’treallyfeelremorseforwhateverhappenedbeforeyesterday.
“Exguidancecounselormistress,”Iclarifywithagrin.Shelaughs,andit’salaughofsolidarity.Asscrewedupasoursituationis,andasconfusingasthenewinformationaboutourrelationshipis,thefactthatwecanlaughaboutitprovesthatweatleastshareintheabsurdityofitall.AndtheonlythoughtIhaveasIwalkawayfromherishowmuchIwishBrianFinleycouldchokeonherlaugh.
Thefirstthreeclassesofthedayfeltforeign.Nooneinthemandnothingdiscussedseemedfamiliartome.Ifeltlikeanimposter,outofplace.
ButtheinstantIwalkedintofourthperiodandtookaseatnexttoCharlie,mymoodchanged.She’sfamiliar.Myonlyfamiliarthinginaworldofinconsistencyandconfusion.
Westoleafewglancesateachother,butweneverspokeduringclass.Wearen’tevenspeakingnowasweenterthecafeteriatogether.Iglanceatourtableandeveryonefromyesterdayisalreadyseated,saveourtwoemptyseats.
Inudgemyheadtowardthelunchline.“Let’sgetourfoodfirst.”
Sheglancesupatme,briefly,beforelookingbackatthetable.“I’mnotreallyhungry,”shesays.“I’lljustwaitforyouatthetable.”SheheadsinthedirectionofourgroupandIheadtowardthecafeterialine.
AftergrabbingmytrayandaPepsi,Iwalkovertothetableandtakeaseat.Charlieislookingdownatherphone,excludingherselffromthesurroundingconversation.
Theguytomyright—Andrew,Ithink—elbowsme.“Silas,”hesays,jabbingmerepeatedly.“TellhimhowmuchIbenchedMonday.”
Ilookupattheguysittingacrossfromus.Herollshiseyesanddownstherestofhissodabeforeslammingitonthetable.“Comeon,Andrew.YouthinkI’mstupidenoughtobelieveyourbestfriendwouldn’tlieforyou?”
Bestfriend.
Andrewismybestfriend,yetIwasn’tevensureofhisnamethirtysecondsago
Myattentionmovesfromthetwoofthemtothefoodinfrontofme.Iopenmysodaandtakeasip,justasCharlieclenchesherwaist.It’sloudinthecafeteria,butIstillheartherumbleofherstomach.She’shungry.
Ifshe’shungry,whyisn’tsheeating?
“Charlie?”Ileaninclosetoher.“Whyaren’tyoueating?”Shedismissesmyquestionwithashrug.Ilowermyvoiceevenmore.“Doyouhavemoney?”
HereyesdartuptomineasifIjustrevealedahugesecrettotheentireroom.Sheswallowsandthenlooksaway,embarrassed.“No,”shesaysquietly.“IgavemylastfewdollarstoJanettethismorning.I’llbefineuntilIgethome.”
Isetmydrinkdownonthetableandpushmytrayinfrontofher.“Here.I’llgogetanotherone.”
Istandandgobacktothelineandgetanothertray.WhenIreturntothetable,she’stakenafewbitesofthefood.Shedoesn’ttellmethankyou,andIfeelrelieved.Makingsureshehasfoodtoeatisn’tafavorIwanttobethankedfor.It’ssomethingIhopeshewouldexpectfromme.
“Doyouwantaridehometoday?”Iaskher,justaswe’refinishingupourmeal.
“Dude,youcan’tmisspracticeagain,”Andrewshootsinmydirection.“Coachwon’tletyouplaytomorrownightifyoudo.”
Irubapalmdownmyface,andthenIreachinmypocketandretrievemykeys.“Here,”Itellher,placingtheminherhand.“Driveyoursisterhomeafterschool.Pickmeupwhenpracticeisover.”
Shetriestohandthekeysbacktome,butIwon’ttakethem.“Keepthem,”Itellher.“YoumightneedacartodayandIwon’tbeusingit.”
Andrewinterrupts.“You’relettingherdriveyourcar?Areyoukiddingme?You’veneverevenletmesitbehindthedamnwheel!”
IlookoveratAndrewandshrug.“Youaren’ttheoneI’minlovewith.”
Charliespitsoutherdrinkwithaburstoflaughter.Iglanceoverather,andhersmileishuge.Itlightsupherentireface,somehowevenmakingthebrownofhereyesseemlessdark.Imaynotrememberanythingabouther,butIwouldbethersmilewasmyfavoritepartofher.
Thisdayhasbeenexhausting.ItfeelslikeI’vebeenonastageforhours,actingoutscenesIhavenoscriptfor.TheonlythingthatappealstomerightnowiseitherbeinginmybedorbeingwithCharlie.Ormaybeacombinationofboth
However,CharlieandIbothstillhaveagoal,andthat’stofigureoutwhatthehellhappenedtousyesterday.Despitethefactthatneitherofusreallywantedtobotherwithschooltoday,weknewschoolcouldleadtoananswer.Afterall,thisdidhappeninthemiddleoftheschooldayyesterday,sotheanswercouldberelatedsomehow.
Footballpracticemaybeofsomehelp.I’llbearoundpeopleIhaven’tspentmuchtimewithinthelasttwenty-fourhours.ImightlearnsomethingaboutmyselforaboutCharliethatIdidn’tknowbefore.Somethingthatcouldshedsomelightonoursituation.
I’mrelievedtofindallthelockershavenamesonthem,soitisn’thardtolocatemygear.Whatishardistryingtofigureouthowtoputiton.Istrugglewiththepants,allthewhiletryingtolooklikeIknowwhatI’mdoing.ThelockerroomslowlyemptiesoutasalltheguysmaketheirwaytothefielduntilI’mtheonlyoneleft.
WhenIthinkI’vegoteverythingsituated,Igrabmyjerseyoffthetopshelfofthelockertopullitonovermyhead.Aboxcatchesmyeye,locatedinthebackofthetopshelfofmylocker.Ipullittowardmeandtakeaseatonthebench.It’saredbox,muchlargerthanaboxthatwouldjustcontainapieceofjewelry.Ipullthelidoffandfindafewpicturesattheverytop.
Therearen’tanypeopleinthepictures.Theyseemtobeofplaces.Iflipthroughthemandcometoapictureofaswingset.It’sraining,andthegroundbeneaththeswingiscoveredinwater.Iflipitover,andwrittenontheback,itsays,Ourfirstkiss.
Thenextpictureisofabackseat,buttheviewisfromthefloorboard,lookingup.Iflipitover.Ourfirstfight.
Thirdisapictureofwhatlookslikeachurch,butit’sonlythepictureofthedoors.Wherewemet.
IflipthroughallthepicturesuntilfinallyIgettoaletter,foldedatthebottomofthebox.Ipickitupandunfoldit.It’sashortletterinmyhandwriting,addressedtoCharlie.Ibegintoreadit,butmyphonebuzzes,soIreachoverandunlockit.
Charlie:Whattimeisyourpracticeover?
Me:Notsure.Ifoundaboxofstuffinthelockerroom.Don’tknowifit’llhelp,butthere’saletterinit.
Charlie:Whatdoesitsay?
“Silas!”someoneyellsfrombehindme.Ispinaroundanddroptwoofthepicturesinmyhands.There’samanstandingatthedoorwithanangrylookonhisface.“Getonthefield!”
Inodandhecontinuesondownthehall.Iputthepicturesbackintheboxandsetitbackinsidemylocker.Itakeadeep,calmingbreathandmakemywayouttothepracticefield.
Twolinesareformedonthefield,bothrowsofguyshunchedforwardandstaringattheguyinfrontofthem.There’sanobviousopening,soIjogtowardtheemptyspotandcopywhattheotherplayersaredoing.
“Forshit’ssake,Nash!Whyareyounotwearingyourshoulderpads?”someoneyells.
Shoulderpads.Crap.
Iskipoutoflineandrunbacktothelockerroom.Thisisgoingtobethelongesthourofmylife.It’soddIcan’tremembertherulesoffootball.Can’tbethathard,though.Justrunbackandforthafewtimesandpracticewillbeover.
Ilocatepadsbehindtherowoflockers.Luckily,they’reeasytoputon.Irushbackoutontothefieldandeveryoneisscattering,runningaroundlikeants.Ihesitatebeforewalkingontothefield.Whenawhistleblows,someoneshovesmefrombehind.“Go!”heyells,frustrated.
Thelines,thenumbers,thegoalposts.TheymeannothingtomeasIstandonthefieldamongsttheotherguys.OneofthecoachesshoutsanorderandbeforeIknowit,theballisbeingthrowninmydirection.Icatchit.
Whatnow?
Run.Ishouldprobablyrun.
ImakeitthreefeetbeforemyfacemeetstheAstroturf.Awhistleblows.
Amanyells.
Istandup,justasoneofthecoachesstalksinmydirection.“Whatthehellwasthat?Getyourdamnheadintheplay!”
Ilookaroundme,thesweatbeginningtotrickledownmyforehead.Landon’svoiceringsoutbehindme.“Dude.Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”
Iturnandlookathim,justaseveryonehuddlesaroundme.Ifollowtheirmotionsandlaymyarmsoverthebacksoftheguystomyleftandright.Noonespeaksforseveralseconds,andthenIrealizethey’realllookingatme.Waiting.Ithinktheywantmetosaysomething?Igetthefeelingit’snotaprayercircle.
“Yougonnacallaplayorwhat?”theguytomyleftsays.
“Uh…,”Istutter.“You…,”IpointtoLandon.“Dothat…thing.”Beforetheycanquestionme,Ipullapartandthehuddlebreaks.
“Coachisgonnabenchhim,”Ihearsomeonemumblebehindme.Awhistleblowsandbeforethesoundevenleavesmyears,afreighttraincrashesintomychest.
Oratleastitfeelsthatway.
Theskyisaboveme,myearsareringing,Ican’tpullinabreath.
Landonishoveringoverme.Hegrabsmyhelmetandshakesit.“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”Helooksaroundandthenbackdownatme.Hiseyesnarrow.“Stayontheground.Actsick.”
Idowhathesaysandhejumpsuptoastand.“Itoldhimnottocometopractice,Coach,”Landonsays.“He’shadstrepallweek.Ithinkhe’sdehydrated.”
Iclosemyeyes,relievedformybrother.Ikindoflikethiskid.
“Whatthehellareyouevendoinghere,Nash?”Thecoachiskneelingnow.“Gotothelockerroomandgethydrated.We’vegotagametomorrownight.”Hestandsandmotionsforoneoftheassistantcoaches.“GethimaZ-Pakandmakesurehe’sreadyforthefieldtomorrow.”
Landonpullsmeup.Myearsarestillringing,butI’mabletobreathenow.Imakemywaytowardthelockerrooms,relievedtobeoffthefield.Ishouldhaveneverwalkedoninthefirstplace.Notsmart,Silas.
Imakeitbacktothelockerroomandchangeoutofmygear.AssoonasIgetmyshoeson,Ihearfootstepsnearingthelockerroomfromdownthehall.Iglancearoundandspotanexitonthefarwall,soIrushtoitandpushitopen.Luckily,itleadsrightouttotheparkinglot.
I’mimmediatelyrelievedtoseemycar.IrushovertoitjustasCharlieclimbsoutofthedriverside,hoppingontoherfeetasIapproach.I’msorelievedtoseeher—tojusthavesomeonetorelateto—thatIdon’teventhinkaboutwhatIdonext.
Igrabherwristandpullhertome,wrappingmyarmsaroundherinatighthug.MyfaceisburiedinherhairandIletoutasigh.Shefeelsfamiliar.Safe.MakesmeforgetthatIcan’tevenremember…
“Whatareyoudoing?”
She’sstiffagainstme.Hercoldreactionremindsmethatwedon’tdothingslikethis.SilasandCharliedidthingslikethis.
Shit.
Iclearmythroatandreleaseher,takingaquickstepback.“Sorry,”Imutter.“Forceofhabit.”
“Wehavenohabits.”Shepushespastmeandwalksaroundmycar.
“Doyouthinkyou’vealwaysbeenthismeantome?”Iaskher.
Shelooksatmefromoverthehoodandnods.“Mymoney’sonyes.You’reprobablyagluttonforpunishment.”
“Morelikeamasochist,”Imutter.
Webothclimbintomycar,andIhavetwoplacesIplanongoingtonight.Thefirstbeingmyhousetoshower,butI’msureifIaskedherifshewantedtocomealong,she’dsaynojusttospiteme.Instead,Iheadinthedirectionofmyhouseanddon’tgiveherachoice.
“Whyareyousmiling?”sheasks,threemilesintoourdrive.Ididn’trealizeIwas.Ishrug.“Justthinking.”
“Aboutwhat?”
Iglanceatherandshe’swaitingformyanswerwithanimpatientfrown.
“IwaswonderinghowtheoldSilaseverbrokethroughyourhardexterior.”
Shelaughs.“Whatmakesyouthinkhedid?”
Iwouldsmileagain,butIdon’tthinkI’vestopped.“Yousawthevideo,Charlie.Youlovedhim.”Ipauseforasecond,thenrephrase.“Me.Youlovedme.”
“Shelovedyou,”Charliesays,andthensmiles.“I’mnotevensureifIlikeyouyet.”
Ishakemyheadwithasoftlaugh.“Idon’tknowmyselfverywell,butImusthavebeenextremelycompetitive.BecauseIjusttookthatasachallenge.”
“Tookwhatasachallenge?Youthinkyoucanmakemelikeyouagain?”
Ilookoveratherandgivemyheadtheslightestshake.“No.I’mgonnamakeyoufallinlovewithmeagain.”
Icanseethegentlerollofherthroatassheswallows,butjustasfastassheletherguarddown,itfliesbackup.“Goodluckwiththat,”shesays,facingforwardagain.“I’mprettysureyou’llbethefirstguytoevercompetewithhimselfovertheaffectionofagirl.”
“Maybeso,”Isayaswepullintomydriveway.“Butmymoney’sonme.”
Iturnthecaroffandgetout.Shedoesn’tunbuckle.“Youcoming?Ineedtotakeaquickshower.”
Shedoesn’tevenlookatme.“I’llwaitinthecar.”
Idon’targue.Iclosethedoorandheadinsidetoshower,thinkingaboutthesmallsmileIcouldswearwasplayinginthecornerofhermouth.
Andwhilewinningheroveragainisn’tmymainpriority,it’sdefinitelythenewback-upplanincaseneitherofuscanfigureouthowtorevertbacktowhowewerebeforeyesterday.Becauseeventhroughallthebullshit—hercheatingonmewithBrian,mecheatingonherwiththecounselor,ourfamiliesinturmoil—westillobviouslytriedtomakeitwork.Therehadtobesomethingthere,somethingdeeperthanattractionorasimplechildhoodbond,thatmademefighttokeepher.
Iwanttofeelthatagain.Iwanttorememberwhatitfeelsliketolovesomeonelikethat.Andnotjustanyone.IwanttoknowwhatitfeelsliketoloveCharlie.11
Charlie
I’mstandingontheedgeofthelawn,lookingdownhisstreetwhenhewalksupbehindme.Idon’thearhimapproach,butIsmellhim.Idon’tknowhow,sincehesmellsjustliketheoutdoors.
“Whatareyoulookingat?”heasks.
Istareatthehouses,eachofthemimmaculateandmanicuredtothepointofirritation.Itmakesmewanttoshootagunintotheair,justtoseeallthequietpeopleinsidescrambleout.Thisneighborhoodneedsalittlelifebreathedintoit.“It’sstrangehowmoneyseemstosilenceaneighborhood,”Isayquietly.“Onmystreet,wherenoonehasmoney,it’ssoloud.Sirensblaring,peopleshouting,cardoorsslamming,stereosthumping.There’salwayssomeone,somewhere,makingnoise.”Iturnandlookupathim,notexpectingthereactionIhavetoseeinghisdamphairandsmoothjaw.Ifocusonhiseyes,butthatisn’tmuchbetter.Iclearmythroatandlookaway.“IthinkIpreferthenoise.”
Hetakesastepuntilwe’reshouldertoshoulder,bothstaringatthetaciturnstreet.“No,youdon’t.Youdon’tprefereither.”Hesaysthislikeheknowsme,andIwanttoremindhimhedoesn’tknowmeatall,butheputshishandonmyelbow.“Let’sgetoutofhere,”hesays.“Godosomethingthatdoesn’tbelongtoCharlieandSilas.Somethingthat’sours.”
“You’retalkingaboutuslikewe’rebodyinvaders.”
Silascloseshiseyesandtiltshisheadback.“YouhavenoideahowmanytimesadayIthinkaboutinvadingyourbody.”
Idon’tintendtolaughashardasIdo,butItripovermyownfeetandSilasreachesdowntocatchme.We’rebothlaughingasherightsmeonmyfeetandrubshishandsupanddownmyarms.
Ilookaway.I’mtiredoflikinghim.Ionlyhaveadayandahalfworthofmemories,butthey’reallfilledwithmenothatingSilas.Andnowhe’smadeithispersonalmissiontomakemelovehimagain.It’sannoyingthatIlikeit.
“Goaway,”Isay.
Heraiseshishandsinsurrenderandtakesastepback.“Thisfar?”
“Farther.”
Anotherstep.“Better?”
“Yes,”Ismart.
Silasgrins.“Idon’tknowmyselfwell,butIcantellIhavealotofgame.”
“Oh,please,”Isay.“Ifyouwereagame,Silas,you’dbeMonopoly.Youjustgoonandonandeveryoneendsupcheatingjusttobeoverwithit.”
He’squietforaminute.Ifeelbadforsayingsomethingsoawkwardevenifitwasajoke.
“You’reprobablyright,”helaughs.“That’swhyyoucheatedonmewiththatasshat,Brian.Luckyforyou,I’mnotMonopolySilasanymore.I’mTetrisSilas.Allmypiecesandpartsaregoingtofitintoallofyourpiecesandparts.”
Isnort.“Andtheguidancecounselor’s,apparently.”
“Lowblow,Charlie,”hesays,shakinghishead.
Iwaitafewseconds,chewingonmylip.ThenIsay,“Idon’tthinkIwantyoutocallmethat.”
Silasturnstolookatme.“Charlie?”
“Yeah.”Ilookoverathim.“Isthatweird?Idon’tfeellikeI’mher.Idon’tevenknowher.Itjustdoesn’tfeellikemyname.”
Henodsaswewalktowardhiscar.“So,Igettorenameyou?”
“Untilwefigureallthisout…yeah.”
“Poppy,”hesays.
“No.”
“Lucy.”
“Hellno,what’swrongwithyou?”
HeopensthepassengersidedoortohisRoverandIclimbin.“Okay…okay.Icanseeyoudon’tliketraditionallycutenames.Wecantryforsomethingtougher.”Hewalksaroundtothedriversideandclimbsin.“Xena…”
“No.”
“Rogue.”
“Ugh.No.”
WegobackandforthlikethisuntilSilas’sGPStellsusthatwe’vearrived.Ilookaround,surprisedthatIwastooengagedwithhimtonoticethedrivehere.WhenIlookdownatmyphoneIseethatBrianhastextedmesixtimes.Idon’twanttodealwithhimrightnow.Ishovemyphoneandwalletundertheseat,outofview.
“Wherearewe?”
“BourbonStreet,”hesays.“MosthappeningplaceinNewOrleans.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”Iasksuspiciously.
“IGoogledit.”Westareateachotheroverthehood,andthenbothshutourdoorsatthesametime.
“HowdidyouknowwhatGooglewas?”
“Ithoughtthat’swhatwe’resupposedtobefiguringouttogether.”Wemeetatthefrontofthecar.
“Ithinkwe’realiens,”Isay.“That’swhywedon’thaveanyofCharlie’sandSilas’smemories.ButwerememberthingslikeGoogleandTetrisbecauseofthecomputerchipsinourbrains.”
“So,canIrenameyouAlien?”
BeforeIcanthinkaboutwhatI’mdoing,Isendthebackofmyhandintohischest.“Focus,Silas!”
Heuumphs,andthenI’mpointingstraightahead.“What’sthat?”Iwalkaheadofhim.
It’sabuilding,castle-likeinstructure,andwhite.Therearethreespiresjuttinguptowardthesky.
“Lookslikeachurch,”hesays,takingouthisphone.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Takingapicture…incaseweforgetagain.Ifigureweshoulddocumentwhat’shappeningandwherewego.”
I’mquietasIthinkaboutwhathesaid.It’sareallygoodidea.“That’swhereweshouldgo,right?Churcheshelppeople…”Myvoicetrailsoff.
“Yes,”saysSilas.“Theyhelppeople,notaliens.Andsincewe’re—”
Ihithimagain.Iwishhewouldtakethisseriously.“Whatifwe’reangelsandwe’resupposedtohelpsomeone,andweweregiventhesebodiestofulfillourmission?”
Hesighs.“Areyoulisteningtoyourself?”
We’vereachedthedoorstothechurch,whichareironicallylocked.“Okay,”Isay,spinningaround.“What’syoursuggestionforwhat’shappenedtous?Didweboinkourheadstogetherandloseourmemories?Ormaybeweatesomethingthatreallymessedusup!”Istormdownthestairs.
“Hey!Hey!”hecalls.“You’renotallowedtogetmadatme.Thisisnotmyfault.”Herunsdownthestairsafterme.
“Howdoweknowthat?Wedon’tknowanything,Silas!Thiscouldbeallyourfault!”
We’restandingatthebottomofthestairsnow,staringateachother.“Maybeitis,”hesays.“ButwhateverIdid,youdidittoo.Becauseincaseyouhaven’tnoticed,we’reinthesameboat.”
Iclenchandunclenchmyfists,takedeepbreaths,concentrateonstaringatthechurchuntilmyeyeswater.
“Look,”Silassays,steppingcloser.“I’msorryforturningthisintoajoke.Iwanttofigureitoutasmuchasyoudo.Whataresomeofyourotherideas?”
Iclosemyeyes.“Fairytales,”Isay,lookingbackupathim.“Someoneisalwayscursed.Tobreakthespelltheyhavetofiguresomethingoutaboutthemselves…then…”
“Thenwhat?”
Icantellhe’stryingtotakemeseriously,butthissomehowmakesmeangrier.“There’sakiss…”
Hegrins.“Akiss,huh?I’veneverkissedanyonebefore.”
“Silas!”
“What?IfIcan’tremember,itdoesn’tcount!”
Ifoldmyarmsacrossmychestandwatchastreetmusicianpickuphisviolin.Heremembersthefirsttimehepickedupaviolin,thefirstnotesheplayed,whogaveittohim.Ienvyhismemories.
“I’llbeserious,Charlie.I’msorry.”
IlookatSilasoutofthecornerofmyeye.Helooksgenuinelysorry,handsshovedintohispockets,neckdroppinglikeit’ssuddenlytooheavy.
“So,whatdoyouthinkweneedtodo?Kiss?”
Ishrug.“It’sworthatry,right?”
“Yousaidinfairytalestheyhavetofiguresomethingoutfirst…”
“Yeah.Like,SleepingBeautyneededsomeonebravetokissherandwakeherfromthesleepingcurse.SnowWhiteneededtruelove’skisstobringherbacktolife.ArielneededtogetErictokisshertobreakthespelltheseawitchputonher.”
Heperksup.“Thosearemovies,”hesays.“Doyourememberwatchingthem?”
“Idon’trememberwatchingthem,IjustknowI’veseenthem.Mr.DeetsonspokeaboutfairytalesinEnglishtoday.That’swhereIgottheidea.”
Westartwalkingtowardthestreetmusician,whoisplayingsomethingslowandmournful.
“Soundslikethebreakingofthecurseismostlyuptotheguy,”Silassays.“Heneedstomeansomethingtoher.”
“Yeah…”Myvoicedropsoffaswestoptolisten.IwishIknewthesonghewasplaying.ItsoundslikesomethingI’veheard,butIhavenonameforit.
“There’sagirl,”Isaysoftly.“Iwanttotalktoher…Ithinkmaybesheknowssomething.AfewpeoplehavereferredtoherasTheShrimp.”
Silas’seyebrowsdrawtogether.“Whatdoyoumean?Whoisshe?”
“Idon’tknow.She’sinacoupleofmyclasses.It’sjustafeeling.”
Westandamongagroupofonlookers,andSilasreachesformyhand.Forthefirsttime,Idon’tpullawayfromhim.Ilethiswarmfingersintertwinewithmine.Withhisfreehand,hetakesapictureoftheviolinist,thenhelooksdownatme.“SoIcanrememberthefirsttimeIheldyourhand.”12
Silas
We’vewalkedtwoblocksandshehasn’tletgoofmyhandyet.Idon’tknowifit’sbecauseshelikesholdingit,orifit’sbecauseBourbonStreetis…well
“Oh,God,”shesays,turningtowardme.Shefistsmyshirtinherhandandpressesherforeheadagainstmyarm.“Thatguyjustflashedme,”shesays,laughingintothesleeveofmyshirt.“Silas,Ijustsawmyfirstpenis!”
IlaughasIcontinuesteeringherthroughtheinebriatedcrowdofBourbonStreet.Afterwalkingaways,shepeeksupagain.We’renowapproachinganevenlargergroupofbelligerentmen,allwithoutshirts.Intheplaceofshirtsaremoundsofbeadsdrapedaroundtheirnecks.They’realllaughingandscreamingatthepeopleperchedonthebalconiesaboveus.Shesqueezesmyhandtighteruntilwe’vesuccessfullynavigatedthroughthem.Sherelaxesandputsmorespacebetweenus.
“What’swiththebeads?”sheasks.“Whywouldanyonespendmoneyonsuchtackyjewelry?”
“It’spartoftheMardiGrastradition,”Itellher.“IreadaboutitwhenIwasresearchingBourbonStreet.ItstartedasacelebrationforthelastTuesdaybeforeLent,butIguessit’sturnedintoayear-roundthing.”Ipullheragainstmysideandpointdowntothesidewalkinfrontofher.Shesidestepsaroundwhatlookslikepuke.
“I’mhungry,”shesays.
Ilaugh.“Steppingovervomitmadeyouhungry?”
“No,vomitmademethinkoffood,andfoodmademystomachgrowl.Feedme.”Shepointstoarestaurantupthestreet.Thesignisflashinginredneon.“Let’sgothere.”
Shestepsaheadofme,stillgrippingmyhand.Iglancedownatmyphoneandfollowherlead.Ihavethreemissedcalls.Onefrom“Coach,”onefrommybrother,andonefrom“Mom.”
It’sthefirsttimeI’vethoughtaboutmymother.Iwonderwhatshe’slike.IwonderwhyIhaven’tmetheryet.
MywholebodycrashesintothebackofCharlie’saftershestopsshorttoletavehiclepass.Herhandfliesuptothebackofherhead,wheremychinsmashedagainstit.“Ouch,”shesays,rubbingherhead.
Irubmychinandwatchfrombehindherasshepushesherhairforward,overhershoulder.Myeyesfalltothetipofwhatappearstobeatattoopeekingoutfromthebackofhershirt.
Shebeginswalkingagain,butIgrabhershoulder.“Wait,”Itellher.MyfingerstrailtothecollarofhershirtandIpullitdownacoupleofinches.Rightbelowthenapeofherneckisasmallsilhouetteoftreesinblackink.Irunmyfingersovertheiroutline.“Youhaveatattoo.”
HerhandfliestothespotI’mtouching.“What?!”sheshrieks.Shespinsaroundandlooksupatme.“Idonot.”
“Youdo.”Iturnherbackaroundandpulltheshirtdownagain.“Here,”IsayasItracethetreesagain.ThistimeInoticeaschillsbreakoutonherneck.Ifollowthelineoftinybumpswithmyeyes,runningoverhershoulderandhidingbeneathhershirt.Ilookbackatthetattooagain,becauseherfingersarenowattemptingtofeelwhatI’mfeeling.Itaketwoofthemandpressthemagainstherskin.“Asilhouetteoftrees,”Itellher.“Righthere.”
“Trees?”shesays,cockingherheadtotheside.“WhywouldIhavetrees?”Sheturnsaround.“Iwanttoseeit.Takeapicturewithyourphone.”
Ipullhershirtdownenoughsothatshecanseetheentiretattoo,eventhoughit’snomorethanthreeincheswide.Ibrushherhairoverhershoulderagain,notforthesakeofthepicture,butbecauseI’vereallybeenwantingtodothat.Ialsorepositionherhandsothatit’scomingacrossthefrontofherbody,drapingoverhershoulder.
“Silas,”shegrumbles.“Justtakethedamnpicture.Thisisn’tartclass.”
IgrinandwonderifI’malwayslikethis—ifIrefusetotakeasimplepicture,knowingitonlytakesalittlebitmoreefforttomakeitexceptional.Ibringthephoneupandsnapthepicture,thenlookatthescreen,admiringhowgoodthetattoolooksonher.Shespinsaroundandtakesthephonefrommyhands.
Shelooksdownatthepictureandgasps.“Oh,myGod.”
“It’saverynicetattoo,”Itellher.Shehandsmebackmyphoneandrollshereyes,walkingagaininthedirectionoftherestaurant.
Shecanrollhereyesallshewants.Itdoesn’tchangehowshereactedtomyfingerstrailingacrossthebackofherneck.
Iwatchherwalktowardtherestaurant,andrealizethatIhaveherfiguredoutalready.Themoreshelikesme,themoreclosedoffshebecomes.Themoresarcasmsheinflictsonme.Vulnerabilitymakesherfeelweak,soshe’spretendingtobetougherthanshereallyis.IthinktheoldSilasknewthisabouther,too.Whichiswhyhelovedher,becauseapparentlyhelikedthegametheyplayed.
ApparentlyIdotoo,becauseonceagain,I’mfollowingher.
WewalkthroughthedooroftherestaurantandCharliesays,“Twopeople,boothplease,”beforethehostessevenhasachancetoask.Atleastshesaidplease.
“Rightthisway,”thewomansays.
Therestaurantisquietanddark,astarkcontrasttothenoiseandneonlightsofBourbonStreet.Webothbreatheacollectivesighofreliefoncewe’reseated.Thewaitresshandsusourmenusandtakesourdrinkorder.Everynowandthen,Charlieliftsahandtothebackofherneckasifshecanfeeltheoutlineofthetattoo.
“Whatdoyouthinkitmeans?”shesays,stillstaringatthemenuinfrontofher.
Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.Maybeyoulikedforests?”Iglanceupather.“Thesefairytalesyoutalkedabout.Didtheyalltakeplaceinforests?Maybethemanwhoneedstobreakyourspellwithakissisastrappinglumberjack,livinginthewoods.”
HereyesmeetmineandIcantellmyjokesareaggravatingher.Ormaybeshe’saggravatedbecauseshethinksI’mfunny.“Stopmakingfunofme,”shesays.“Wewokeupwithoutourmemoriesattheexactsametime,Silas.Nothingismoreabsurdthanthat.Evenfairytaleswithlumberjacks.”
Ismileinnocentlyandlookdownatmyhand.“Ihavecallouses,”Itellher,liftingmyhandandpointingattheroughskinofmypalm.“Icouldbeyourlumberjack.”
Sherollshereyesagain,butlaughsthistime.“Youprobablyhavecallousesfromjerkingofftoomuch.”
Iholdupmyrighthand.“Butthey’reonbothhands,notjustmyleft.”
“Ambidextrous,”shedeadpans.
Webothgrinasourdrinksareplacedinfrontofus.“Readytoorder?”thewaitressasks.
Charliequicklyscansthemenuandsays,“Ihatethatwecan’trememberwhatwelike.”Shelooksupatthewaitress.“I’lltakeagrilledcheese,”shesays.“It’ssafe.”
“Burgerandfries,nomayo,”Itellher.WehandherbackourmenusandIrefocusonCharlie.“Youaren’teighteenyet.Howcouldyougetatattoo?”
“BourbonStreetdoesn’tseemtobeasticklerfortherules,”shesays.“IprobablyhaveafakeIDhiddensomewhere.”
Iopenthesearchengineonmyphone.“I’lltrytofigureoutwhatitmeans.I’vegottenprettygoodatthisGooglething.”Ispendthenextfewminutessearchingeverypossiblemeaningoftreesandforestsandclustersoftrees.JustwhenIthinkI’montosomething,shepullsmyphoneawayandsetsitonthetable.
“Getup,”shesaysasshestands.“We’regoingtothebathroom.”Shegrabsmyhandandpullsmeoutofthebooth.
“Together?”
Shenods.“Yep.”
Ilookatthebackofherheadasshewalksawayfromme,thenbackattheemptybooth.Whatthe…
“Comeon,”shesaysoverhershoulder.
Ifollowhertothehallwaythatleadstotherestrooms.Shepushesopenthewomen’sandpeeksinside,thenpullsherheadout.“It’sasinglestall.It’sempty,”shesays,holdingthedooropenforme.
Ipauseandlookatthemen’srestroom,whichlooksperfectlyfine,soIdon’tknowwhyshe’s—“Silas!”Shegrabsmyarmandpullsmeinsidetherestroom.Oncewe’reinside,Ihalfexpecthertowrapherarmsaroundmyneckandkissmebecause…whyelsewouldwebeinheretogether?
“Takeoffyourshirt.”
Ilookdownatmyshirt.
Ilookbackupather.“Arewe…areweabouttomakeout?BecauseIdidn’tpictureitgoingdownlikethis.”
Shegroansandreachesforward,pullingatthehemofmyshirt.Ihelpherpullitovermyheadwhenshesays,“Iwanttoseeifyouhaveanytattoos,dumbass.”
Ideflate.
Ifeellikeaneighteen-year-oldwho’sjustbeenblue-balled.IguessIkindofam…
Sheturnsmearoundand,whenIfacethemirror,shegasps.Hereyesarefixatedonmyback.Mymusclestensebeneathhertouchasherfingertipsmeetmyrightshoulderblade.Shetracesacircle,spanningaradiusofseveralinches.Isqueezemyeyesshutandtrytocontrolmypulse.IsuddenlyfeeldrunkerthaneveryoneonBourbonStreetcombined.I’mgrippingthecounterinfrontofmebecauseherfingers…myskin.
“Jesus,”Igroan,droppingmyheadbetweenmyshoulders.Focus,Silas.
“What’swrong?”sheasks,pausingherinspectionofmytattoo.“Itdoesn’thurtdoesit?”
Ireleasealaugh,becauseherhandsonmearetheoppositeofpain.“No,Charlie.Itdoesn’thurt.”
Myeyesmeethersinthemirrorandshestaresatmeforseveralseconds.Whenwhatshe’sdoingtomefinallyregisters,sheglancesawayandpullsherhandfrommyback.Hercheeksflush.
“Putyourshirtonandgowaitforourfood,”shedemands.“Ihavetopee.”
IreleasemygriponthecounterandinhaledeeplyasIpullmyshirtbackovermyhead.Onmywalkbacktoourtable,IrealizeIneverevenaskedherwhatthetattoowas.
“Astrandofpearls,”shesaysassheslidesintothebooth.“Blackpearls.It’saboutsixinchesindiameter.”
“Pearls?”
Shenods.
“Likea…necklace?”
Shenodsagainandtakesasipofherdrink.“Youhaveatattooofawoman’snecklaceonyourback,Silas.”She’ssmilingnow.“Verylumberjack-esque.”
She’senjoyingthis.“Yeah,well.Youhavetreesonyourback.Notmuchtobragabout.You’llprobablygettermites.”
Shelaughsoutloudanditmakesmelaugh,too.Shemovesthestrawaroundinherdrinkandlooksdownatherglass.“Knowingme…”Shepauses.“KnowingCharlie,shewouldn’thavegottenatattoounlessitreallymeantsomethingtoher.Ithadtobesomethingsheknewshewouldnevergrowtiredof.Neverstoploving.”
Twofamiliarwordsstickoutinhersentence.“Nevernever,”Iwhisper.
Shelooksupatme,recognizingthephrasewerepeatedtoeachotherinthevideo.Shetiltsherheadtotheside.“Youthinkithadsomethingtodowithyou?WithSilas?”Sheshakesherhead,silentlydisagreeingwithmysuggestion,butIbeginscrollingthroughmyphone.“Charliewouldn’tbethatstupid,”sheadds.“Shewouldn’tinksomethingintoherskinthatwasrelatedtoaguy.Besides,whatwouldtreeshavetodowithyou?”
IfindexactlywhatI’mlookingforand,asmuchasI’mtryingtokeepastraightface,Ican’tstopthesmile.Iknowit’sasmugsmileandIprobablyshouldnotbelookingatherlikethis,butIcan’thelpit.Ihandherthephoneandshelooksdownatthescreenandreadsoutloud.
“‘FromaGreeknamemeaningforestsorwoods.’”Shelooksupatme.“Soit’sthemeaningofaname?”
Inod.Stillsmug.“Scrollup.”
Shescrollsupthescreenwithaswipeofherfingerandherlipspartwithagasp.“‘DerivedfromtheGreekterm—Silas.’”Hermouthclampsshutandherjawhardens.Shehandsmebackthephoneandcloseshereyes.Herheadmovesslowlybackandforth.“Shegotatattooofthemeaningofyourname?”
Asexpected,she’spretendingtobedisappointedinherself.Asexpected,Ifeeltriumphant.
“Yougotatattoo,”Itellher,pointingmyfingerinherdirection.“It’sonyouYourskin.Myname.”Ican’tstopwiththestupidsmileplasteredacrossmyface.Sherollshereyesagain,justasourfoodislaidinfrontofus.
IpushmineasideandsearchthemeaningforthenameCharlie.Idon’tpullanythingupthatcouldmeanpearls.Afterafewminutes,shefinallysighsandsays,“TryMargaret.Mymiddlename.”
IsearchthenameMargaretandreadtheresultsoutloud.“‘Margaret,fromtheGreektermmeaningpearl.’”
Isetmyphonedown.Idon’tknowwhyitseemslikeI’vejustwonabet,butIfeelvictorious.
“It’sagoodthingyou’regivingmeanewname,”shesays,matteroffact.
Anewnamemyass.
Ipullmyplateinfrontofmeandpickupafrenchfry.Ipointitatherandwink.“We’rebranded.Youandme.Wearesoinlove,Charlie.Youfeelingityet?DoImakeyourheartgopitterpatter?”
“Thesearen’tourtattoos,”shesays.
Ishakemyhead.“Branded,”Irepeat.IraisemyindexfingerasifI’mgesturingoverhershoulder.“Rightthere.Permanently.Forever.”
“God,”shegroans.“Shutupandeatyourdamnburger.”Ieatit.Ieattheentirethingwithashit-eatinggrin.
“Whatnow?”Iask,leaningbackinmyseat.She’sbarelytouchedherfoodandI’mprettysureIjustbrokearecordwithhowfastIatemine.
ShelooksupatmeandIcanseebythetrepidationinherexpressionthatshealreadyknowswhatshewantstodonext,shejustdoesn’twanttobringitup.
“Whatisit?”
Hereyesnarrow.“Idon’twantyoutomakeasmart-asscommentinresponsetowhatI’mabouttosuggest.”
“No,Charlie,”Isayimmediately.“Wearen’telopingtonight.Thetattoosareenoughcommitmentfornow.”
Shedoesn’trollhereyesatmyjokethistime.Shesighs,defeated,andleansbackinherseat.
Ihateherreaction.Ilikeitawholelotmorewhensherollshereyesatme.
Ireachacrossthetableandcoverherhandwithmine,rubbingmythumboverhers.“I’msorry,”Isay.“Sarcasmjustmakesthiswholethingfeelalittlelessfrightening.”Iremovemyhandfromhers.“Whatdidyouwanttosay?I’mlistening.Promise.Lumberjack’shonor.”
ShelaughswithasmallrollofhereyesandI’mrelieved.Sheglancesupatmeandshiftsinherseat,thenbeginsplayingwithherstrawagain.“Wepassedafew…tarotshops.Ithinkmaybeweshouldgetareading.”
Idon’tevenstartathercomment.Ijustnodandpullmywalletoutofmypocket.IlayenoughmoneyonthetabletocoverourbillandthenIstandup.“Iagree,”Itellher,reachingoutforherhand.
Iactuallydon’tagree,butIfeelbad.TheselasttwodayshavebeenexhaustingandIknowshe’stired.TheleastIcandoismakethiseasierforher,despiteknowingthishocuspocusbullshitisn’tgoingtoenlightenusinanyway.
Wepassafewtarotshopsduringoursearch,butCharlieshakesherheadeachtimeIpointoneout.I’mnotsurewhatshe’slookingfor,butIactuallylikewalkingthestreetswithher,soI’mnotcomplaining.She’sholdingmyhand,andsometimesIputmyarmaroundherandpullheragainstmewhenthepathsbecometoonarrow.Idon’tknowifshe’snoticed,butI’vebeenleadingusthroughalotofthesenarrowpathsunnecessarily.AnytimeIseeabigcrowd,Iaimforit.Afterall,she’sstillmyback-upplan.
Afterabouthalfanhourlongerofwalking,itlookslikewe’rereachingtheendoftheFrenchQuarter.Thecrowdsaredwindling,givingmefewerexcusestopullhertome.Someoftheshopswe’repassinghavealreadyclosed.WemakeittoSt.PhilipStreetwhenshepausesinfrontofanartgallerywindow.
Istandnexttoherandstareatthedisplaysilluminatedinsidethebuilding.Thereareplasticbodypartssuspendedfromtheceiling,andgiant,metalsealifeclingingtothewalls.Themaindisplay,whichisdirectlyinfrontofus,justhappenstobeasmallcorpse—wearingastrandofpearls.
Shetapsherfingeragainsttheglass,pointingatthecorpse.“Look,”shesays.“It’sme.”Shelaughsandmovesherattentiontosomewhereelseinsidethestore.
I’mnotlookingatthecorpseanymore.I’mnotlookinginsidethestoreanymore.
I’mlookingather.
Thelightsfrominsidethegalleryareilluminatingherskin,givingheraglowthatreallydoesmakeherlooklikeanangel.Iwanttorunmyhandacrossherbackandfeelforactualwings.
Hereyesmovefromoneobjecttoanotherasshestudieseverythingbeyondthewindow.She’slookingateachpiecewithbewilderment.Imakeamentalnotetobringherbackherewhenthey’reactuallyopen.Ican’timaginewhatshe’dlooklikeactuallybeingabletotouchoneofthepieces.
ShestaresintothewindowafewminuteslongerandIcontinuetostareather,onlynowI’vetakentwostepsandI’mstandingdirectlybehindher.Iwanttoseehertattooagain,nowthatIknowwhatitmeans.Iwrapmyhandaroundherhairandbrushitforward,overhershoulder.Ihalfexpecthertoreachbehindherandslapmyhandaway,butinstead,shesucksinaquickrushofairandlooksdownatherfeet.
Ismile,rememberingwhatitfeltlikewhensheranherfingersovermytattoo.Idon’tknowifImakeherfeelthesame,butshe’sstandingstill,allowingmyfingerstoslipinsidethecollarofhershirtagain.
Iswallowwhatfeelslikethreeentireheartbeats.Iwonderifshe’salwayshadthiseffectonme.
Ipullhershirtdown,revealinghertattoo.Apangshootsthroughmystomach,becauseIhatethatwedon’thavethismemory.Iwanttorememberthediscussionwehadwhenwedecidedtomakesuchapermanentdecision.Iwanttorememberwhobroughttheideaupfirst.Iwanttorememberwhatshelookedlikeastheneedlepiercedherskinforthefirsttime.Iwanttorememberhowwefeltwhenitwasover.
Irunmythumboverthesilhouetteoftreeswhilecurvingtherestofmyhandoverhershoulder—overskincoveredinchillsagain.Shetiltsherheadtothesideandthetiniestofwhimpersescapesherthroat.
Isqueezemyeyesshut.“Charlie?”Myvoiceislikesandpaper.Iclearmythroattosmoothitout.“Ichangedmymind,”Isayquietly.“Idon’twanttogiveyouanewname.Ikindofloveyouroldonenow.”
Iwait.
Iwaitforhersnarkyresponse.Forherlaughter.
Iwaitforhertopushmyhandawayfromthenapeofherneck.Igetnoreactionfromher.Nothing.WhichmeansIgeteverything.
IkeepmyhandonherbackasIslowlysteparoundher.I’mstandingbetweenherandthewindownow,butshekeepshereyesfocusedontheground.Shedoesn’tlookupatme,becauseIknowshedoesn’tliketofeelweak.Andrightnow,I’mmakingherweak.Ibringmyfreehandtoherchinandgrazemyfingersupherjaw,tiltingherfacetomine.
Whenwelockeyes,IfeellikeI’mmeetingabrand-newsideofher.Asideofherwithoutresolve.Avulnerableside.Asidethat’sallowingherselftofeelsomething.Iwanttogrinandaskherhowitfeelstobeinlove,butIknowteasingherinthismomentwouldpissheroffandshe’dwalkawayandIcan’tletthathappen.Notrightnow.NotwhenIfinallygettocataloganactualmemorywithallthenumerousfantasiesI’vehadabouthermouth.
Hertongueslidesacrossherbottomlip,causingjealousytoflutterthroughme,becauseIreallywantedtobetheonetodothattoherlip.
Infact…IthinkIwill.
Ibegintodipmyhead,justasshepressesherhandsagainstmyforearms.“Look,”shesays,pointingatthebuildingnextdoor.TheflickeringlighthasstolenherattentionandIwanttocursetheuniverseforthesimplefactthatalightbulbjustinterferedwithwhatwasabouttobecomemyabsolutefavoriteofveryfewmemories.
Ifollowhergazetoasignthatdoesn’tlookanydifferentfromalloftheothertarotsignswe’vepassed.Theonlythingdifferentaboutthisoneisitjustcompletelyruinedmymoment.Anddammit,itwasagoodmoment.Agreatone.OneIknowCharliewasalsofeeling,andIdon’tknowhowlongit’lltakemetogetbacktothat.
She’swalkinginthedirectionoftheshopnow.Ifollowbehindherlikealovesickpuppy.
Thebuildingisunmarkedanditmakesmewonderwhatitwasabouttheunreliable,assholelightingthatdrewherawayfrommymouth.Theonlywordsindicatingthisisevenastorearethe“NoCameras”signsplasteredoneveryblackenedwindow.
Charlieputsherhandsonthedoorandpushesitopen.Ifollowherinsideandwe’resoonstandinginwhatlookslikethecenterofatouristyvoodoogiftshop.There’samanstandingbehindaregisterandafewpeoplebrowsingtheaisles
ItrytotakeeverythinginasIfollowCharliethroughthestore.Shefingerseverything,touchingthestones,thebones,thejarsofminiaturevoodoodolls.Wesilentlymakeourwaydowneachaisleuntilwereachthebackwall.Charliestopsshort,grabsmyhandandpointsatapictureonthewall.“Thatgate,”shesays.“Youtookapictureofthatgate.It’stheonehangingonmywall.”
“CanIhelpyou?”
Webothspinaroundandalarge—reallylarge—manwithgaugedearsandalipringisstaringdownatus.
Ikindofwanttoapologizetohimandleaveasfastaswecan,butCharliehasotherplans.“Doyouknowwhatthisgateisguarding?Theoneinthepicture?”Charlieaskshim,pointingoverhershoulder.Theman’seyeslifttothepictureframe.Heshrugs.
“Mustbenew,”hesays.“I’venevernoticeditbefore.”Helooksatme,archinganeyebrowadornedwithmultiplepiercings.Onebeingasmall…bone?Isthatabonestickingthroughhiseyebrow?“Youtwolookingforanythinginparticular?”
Ishakemyheadandbegintorespond,butmywordsarecutoffbysomeoneelse’s.
“They’reheretoseeme.”Ahandreachesthroughabeadedcurtaintoourright.Awomanstepsout,andCharlieimmediatelysidlesagainstme.Iwrapmyarmaroundher.Idon’tknowwhyshe’sallowingthisplacetofreakherout.Shedoesn’tseemlikethetypetobelieveinthissortofthing,butI’mnotcomplaining.AfrightenedCharliemeansaveryluckySilas.
“Thisway,”thewomansays,motioningforustofollowher.Istarttoobject,butthenremindmyselfthatplaceslikethis…they’reallabouttheatrics.It’sHalloween365daysayear.She’sjustplayingapart.She’snodifferentthanCharlieandme,pretendingtobetwopeoplewearen’t.
Charlieglancesupatme,silentlyaskingforpermissiontofollowher.Inodandwefollowthewomanthroughthecurtainof—Itouchoneofthebeadsandtakeacloserlook—plasticskulls.Nicetouch.
Theroomissmallandeverywalliscoveredwiththick,velvetblackcurtains.Therearecandleslitaroundtheroom,flickersoflightlickingthewalls,thefloor,us.Thewomantakesaseatatasmalltableinthecenteroftheroomandgesturesforustositinthetwochairsacrossfromher.IkeepCharlie’shandwrappedtightlyinmineaswebothsit.
Thewomanbeginstoslowlyshuffleadeckoftarotcards.“Ajointreading,Iassume?”sheasks.
Webothnod.ShehandsCharliethedeckandaskshertoholdthem.Charlietakesthemfromherandclaspsherhandsaroundthem.Thewomannudgesherheadtowardme.“Bothofyou.Holdthem.”
Iwanttorollmyeyes,butinsteadIreachmyhandacrossCharlieandplaceitonthedeckwithher.
“Youneedtowantthesamethingoutofthisreading.Multiplereadingscansometimesoverlapwhenthereisn’tcohesiveness.It’simportantyourgoalisthesame.”
Charlienods.“Theyare.Itis.”
Ihatethedesperationinhervoice,likewe’reactuallygoingtogetananswerSurelyshedoesn’tbelievethis.
Thewomanreachesacrosstotakethecardsfromourhands.Herfingersbrushmineandthey’reicecold.IpullmyhandbackandgrabCharlie’s,movingitontomylap.
Shebeginslayingcardsoutonthetable,onebyone.They’reallfacedown.Whenshe’sfinished,sheasksmetopullacardfromthedeck.WhenIhandherthecard,shesetsitapartfromtheothers.Shepointsatit.“Thiscardwillgiveyouyouranswer,buttheothercardsexplainthepathtoyourquestion.”
Sheputsherfingersonthecardinthemiddle.“Thispositionrepresentsyourcurrentsituation.”Sheflipsitover.
“Death?”Charliewhispers.Herhandtightensaroundmine.
ThewomanlooksatCharlieandtiltsherhead.“Itisn’tnecessarilyabadthing,”shesays.“TheDeathcardrepresentsamajorchange.Areformation.Thetwoofyouhaveexperiencedalossofsorts.”
Shetouchesanothercard.“Thispositionrepresentstheimmediatepast.”SheflipsitoverandbeforeIlookdownatthecard,Icanseethewoman’seyesnarrow.Myeyesfalltothecard.TheDevil.
“Thisindicatessomethingorsomeonewasenslavingyouinthepast.Itcouldrepresentanumberofthingsclosetoyou.Parentalinfluence.Anunhealthyrelationship.”Hereyesmeetmine.“Invertedcardsreflectanegativeinfluence,andalthoughitrepresentsthepast,itcanalsosignifysomethingyou’recurrentlytransitioningthrough.”
Herfingersfalltoanothercard.“Thiscardrepresentsyourimmediatefuture.”Sheslidesthecardtowardherandflipsitover.AquietgaspfallsfromhermouthandIfeelCharlieflinch.Iglancedownatherandshe’sstaringintentlyatthewoman,waitingforanexplanation.Shelooksterrified.
Idon’tknowwhatkindofgamethiswomanisplaying,butit’sbeginningtopissmeoff…
“TheTowercard?”Charliesays.“Whatdoesitmean?”
Thewomanflipsthecardbackoverasifit’stheworstcardinthedeck.Shecloseshereyesandblowsoutalongbreath.Hereyespopopenagainandshe’sstaringrightatCharlie.“Itmeans…destruction.”
Irollmyeyesandpushbackfromthetable.“Charlie,let’sgetoutofhere.”
Charlielooksatmepleadingly.“We’realmostfinished,”shesays.Irelentandscootbacktowardthetable.
Thewomanflipsovertwomorecards,explainingthemtoCharlie,butIdon’thearasinglewordshesays.MyeyeswanderaroundtheroomasItrytoremainpatientandletherfinish,butIfeellikewe’rewastingtime.
Charlie’shandbeginssqueezingthelifeoutofmine,soIreturnmyattentiontothereading.Thewoman’seyesareclosedtightandherlipsaremoving.She’smumblingwordsIcan’tdecipher.
Charliescootsclosertome,andIinstinctivelywrapmyarmaroundher.“Charlie,”Iwhisper,makingherlookupatme.“It’stheatrics.Shegetspaidtodothis.Don’tbescared.”
Myvoicemusthavebrokenthewomanoutofherconvenientlytimedtrance.She’stappingthetable,tryingtogetourattentionasifshewasn’toffinla-lalandforthelastminuteandahalf.
HerfingersfalltothecardIpulledoutofthedeck.Hereyesmeetmine,andthentheymovetoCharlie’s.“Thiscard,”shesaysslowly.“Isyouroutcomecard.Combinedwiththeothercardsinthereading,thisgivesyoutheanswertowhyyouarehere.”Sheflipsthecardover.
Thewomandoesn’tmove.Hereyesarelockedonthecardbeneathherfingertips.Theroomsgrowseerilyquiet,andasifoncue,oneofthecandleslosesitsflame.Anothernicetouch,Ithink.
Ilookdownattheoutcomecard.Therearen’tanywordsonit.Notitle.Nopicture.
Thecardisblank.
IcanfeelCharliestiffeninmyarmsasshestaresattheblankcardonthetable.IshovebackfromthetableandpullCharlieup.“Thisisridiculous,”Isayloudly,accidentallyknockingmychairover.
I’mnotpissedthatthewomanistryingtoscareus.It’sherjob.I’mpissedbecauseshe’sactuallyscaringCharlie,yetshe’skeepingupthisridiculousfa?ade.
ItakeCharlie’sfaceinmyhandsandlookherintheeyes.“Sheplantedthatcardtoscareyou,Charlie.Thisisallbullshit.”Itakebothherhandsandbegintoturnhertowardtheexit.
“Therearenoblankcardsinmytarotdeck,”thewomansays.
Ipauseinmytracksandturnaroundtofaceher.Notbecauseofwhatshesaid,butbecauseofthewayshesaidit.Shesoundedscared.
Scaredforus?
Iclosemyeyesandexhale.She’sanactress,Silas.Calmyourshit.
IpushopenthedoorandpullCharlieoutside.Idon’tstopwalkinguntilwe’rearoundthebuildingandonanotherstreet.Whenwe’reawayfromthestoreandawayfromthedamnflickeringofthesign,Istopwalkingandpullheragainstme.Shewrapsherarmsaroundmywaistandburiesherheadagainstmychest.
“Forgetallofthat,”Isay,rubbingmyhandinreassuringcirclesoverherback.“Fortune-telling,tarotreadings…it’sridiculous,Charlie.”
Shepullsherfacefrommyshirtandlooksupatme.“Yeah.Ridiculouslikethebothofuswakingupatschoolwithnomemoryofwhoweare?”
Iclosemyeyesandpullawayfromher.Irunmyhandsthroughmyhair,thefrustrationfromthedaycatchinguptome.Icanmakelightofitallwithmyjokes.Icandismisshertheories—fromtarotreadingstofairytales—simplybecauseitdoesn’tmakesensetome.Butshe’sright.Noneofthismakessense.Andthemorewetrytouncoverthemystery,themoreIfeellikewe’rewastingourdamntime.13
Charlie
Hislipsfoldinandheshakeshishead.Hewantsoutofhere.Icanfeelhisedginess.
“Maybeweshouldgobackandaskhermoredetailedquestions,”Isuggest.
“Noway,”hesays.“I’mnotentertainingthatagain.”Hestartstowalkaway,andIconsidergoingbackintheremyself.I’mjustabouttotakemyfirststeptowardtheshopwhenthe“Open”signinthewindowturnsoff.Theshopisinsuddendarkness.Ichewontheinsideofmycheek.IcouldcomebackwhenSilasisn’taround.Maybeshe’dtalktomemore.
“Charlie!”hecalls.
Irunafterhimuntilwe’rewalkingsidebysideagain.Wecanseeourbreathaswewalk.Whendiditgetthiscold?Irubmyhandstogether.
“I’mhungry,”Isay.
“You’realwayshungry.I’veneverseensomeonesosmalleatsomuch.”Hedoesn’toffertofeedmethistime,soIcontinuetowalkbesidehim.
“Whatjusthappenedbackthere?”Iask.I’mtryingtomakeajokeofit,butmystomachfeelsfunny.
“Someonetriedtoscareus.That’sit.”
IlookupatSilas.Mostlyeverythingtogetherexceptthoseshoulders,whicharetense.“Butwhatifshe’sright?Whatifthereweren’tanyblankcardsinhertarotdeck?”
“No,”hesays.“Justno.”
Ibitemylipandsidestepamandancingbackwarddownthesidewalk.“Idon’tunderstandhowyoucandismisssomethingsoeasily,consideringourcircumstances,”Isayfrombetweenmyteeth.“Don’tyouthink—”
“Whydon’twetalkaboutsomethingelse,”Silassays.
“Right,likewhatwe’regoingtodonextweekend?Orhowaboutwetalkaboutwhatwedidlastweekend?Ormaybewetalkabout…”Ismackmyhandagainstmyforehead.“TheElectricCrushDiner.”HowcouldIforgetaboutthat?
“What?”Silasasks.“What’sthat?”
“Wewerethere.Youandme,lastweekend.Ifoundareceiptinmyjeanspocket.”Silasiswatchingmerecountallofthiswithalookofmildannoyanceonhisface.“ItookJanettetherefordinnerlastnight.Aserverrecognizedme.”
“Hey!”heyellsovermyshoulder.“IfyoutouchherwiththatI’llbreakyouinhalf!”
Iglancebehindmeandseeamanpointingafoamfingeratmybutt.
HebacksoffwhenheseesthelookonSilas’sface.
“Whydidn’tyoutellmethat?”Silassaysunderhisbreath,directinghisattentionbacktome.“That’snotliketarotreaders,that’ssomethingimportant.”
“Ireallydon’tknow.Imeantto…”
Hegrabsmyhand,butthistimeit’snotforthepleasureofourpalmspressingtogether.Hedragsmedownthestreetwithonehandwhiletypingsomethingintohisphonewiththeother.I’mbothimpressedandmildlyannoyedatbeingspokentolikethat.Wemayhavebeensomethinginourotherlife,butinthislifeIdon’tevenknowhismiddlename
“It’sonNorthRampartStreet,”Isayhelpfully.
“Yeah.”
He’spissed.Ikindofliketheemo-nessofit.Wepassthroughaparkwithafountain.Streetvendorshavesetuptheirartworkalongthefence;theystareatusaswepassby.Silasistakingonesteptomythree.Itrottokeepup.WewalksofaruntilmyfeethurtandfinallyIyankmyhandfreeofhis.
Hestopsandturnsaround.
Idon’tknowwhattosay,orwhatI’mmadat,soIplacemyhandsonmyhipsandglareathim.
“What’swrongwithyou?”hesays.
“Idon’tknow!”Ishout.“Butyoucan’tjustdragmearoundthecity!Ican’twalkasfastasyouandmyfeethurt.”
Thisfeelsfamiliar.Whydoesthisfeelfamiliar?
HelooksawayandIcanseethemusclesworkinginhisjaw.Heturnsbacktomeandeverythinghappensquickly.Hetakestwostepsandscoopsmeoffmyfeet.Thenheresumeshispacewithmebouncingeversoslightlyinhisarms.Aftermyinitialsqueal,Isettledownandclaspmyarmsaroundhisneck.IlikeitupherewhereIcansmellhiscologneandtouchhisskin.Idon’trecallseeingperfumeamongCharlie’sthings,andIdoubtIwouldhavethoughttoputanyon.WhatdoesthatsayaboutSilas?Thatinthemidstofallofthis,hethoughttopickupabottleandspraycologneonhisneckbeforeheleftthehousethismorning.Washealwaysthetypeofpersonwhocaredaboutthelittlethings—likesmellinggood?
AsIthinkthesethoughts,Silasstopstoaskawomanwhohasfalleninthestreetifshe’sallright.She’sdrunkandsloppy.Whenshetriestostandup,shestepsonthehemofherdressandfallsbackdown.Silassetsmedownonthesidewalkandgoestohelpher.
“Areyoubleeding?Didyouhurtyourself?”heasks.Hehelpsherstand,leadsherbacktowhereI’mwaiting.Sheslursherwordsandpatshimonthecheek,andIwonderifheknewwhenhewenttohelpherthatshewashomeless.Iwouldn’ttouchher.Shesmells.Istepawayfrombothofthem,andwatchhimwatchher.He’sconcerned.Hekeepshiseyesonheruntilshe’sstumbledoffdownthenextstreet,andthenheswingshisheadaroundtofindme.
Inthismoment—rightnow—it’ssocleartomewhoCharlieis.She’snotasgoodasSilas.Sheloveshimbecausehe’ssodifferentfromher.Maybethat’swhyshewenttoBrian,becauseshecouldn’tliveuptoSilas.
LikeIcan’t.
Hehalfsmilesatme,andIthinkhe’sembarrassedtobecaughtcaring.“Ready?”
Iwanttotellhimthatwhathedidwasnice,butniceissuchasillywordforkindness.Anyonecouldpretendtobenice.WhatSilasdidwasinnate.Boldfacedkindness.Ihaven’thadanythoughtslikethat.Ithinkaboutthegirlinclassthefirstmorningwhodroppedherbooksatmyfeet.She’dlookedatmewithfear.Sheexpectedmenottohelp.Andmore.Whatelse?
SilasandIwalkinsilence.Hecheckshisphoneeveryfewminutestomakesurewe’reheadedintherightdirectionandIcheckhisface.Iwonderifthisiswhatacrushfeelslike.Ifwatchingamanhelpawomanissupposedtoelicitthesetypesoffeelings.Andthenwe’rehere.HepointsacrossthestreetandInod.
“Yeah,that’sit.”
Butit’salmostnot.ThedinerhastransformedsinceIwasherewithJanette.It’sloudandpumping.Therearemenlineduponthesidewalksmoking;theypartforusaswewalkby.Icanfeelthebassinmyanklesaswestandoutsidethedoors.Theyopenforusasagroupleaves.Agirlwalkspastmelaughing,herpinkfurjacketbrushingagainstmyface.Inside,peoplearedefendingtheirspacewithwidenedelbowsandjuttedhips.Peopleglareatusaswewalkby.Thisismyspace,backoff.I’mwaitingfortherestofmygroup—keepmoving.Webypassthefewemptyseatsinfavorofwalkingdeeperintothebuilding.Wepressthroughthecrowd,walkingsideways,andflinchingwhenraucouslaughtereruptsnexttous.Adrinkspillsonmyshoes,someonesayssorry.Idon’tevenknowwho,becauseit’ssodark.Andthensomeonecallsournames.
“Silas!Charlie!Overhere!”
Aboyand…whowasthatgirlwhopickedmeupthismorning?
Annie…Amy?
“Hey,”shesays,aswedrawclose.“Ican’tbelieveyouactuallycamebackhereafterlastweekend.”
“Whywouldn’twe?”Silasasks.
ItaketheseatIamofferedandstareupatthethreeofthem.
“Youpunchaguy,throwoveracoupleoftablesandwonderwhyyoushouldn’tcomeback?”theboysays,alongwithalaugh.Ithinkhe’sAnnie/Amy’sboyfriendbythewayhelooksather—likethey’reinonsomethingtogether.Life,maybe.
It’showSilasandIlookateachother.Exceptwereallyareinonsomethingtogether.
“Youactedlikeanass,”shesays.
“Amy,”thespareboysays.“Don’t.”
Amy!
IwanttoknowmoreaboutthispersonSilaspunched.
“Hedeservedit,”Isay.Amyraiseshereyebrowsandshakesherhead.Whatevershe’sthinking,she’stooafraidtosayit,becausesheturnsaway.Itryherboyfriendnext.“Don’tyouthinkso?”Iaskinnocent-like.Heshrugs.GoestositnexttoAmy.They’reallscaredofme,Ithink,butwhy?
IorderaCoke.Amy’sheadsnapsaroundtolookatmewhenshehears.
“RegularCoke?Notdiet?”
“DoIlooklikeIneedtodrinkdiet?”Isnap.Sheshrinksback.Idon’tknowwherethatcamefrom—honesttoGod.Idon’tevenknowhowmuchIweigh.IdecidetoshutupandletSilasdothedetectiveworkbeforeIoffendsomeoneagain.HedropsdownnexttoAmy’sboyfriendandtheybegintotalk.Themusicmakesitimpossibletoeavesdrop,andAmyisdoingherbestnottolookatme,soIpeople-watch.People…theyallhavememories…knowwhotheyare.I’mjealous.
“Let’sgo,Charlie.”Silasisstandingaboveme,waiting.Amyandherboyfriendarewatchingusfromacrossthetable.It’sabigtable,Iwonderwhoelseiscomingtojointhemandhowmanyofthosepeoplehateme.
Outoftherestaurantandbackontothestreet.Silasclearshisthroat.“Igotintoafight.”
“Iheard,”Isay.“Didtheytellyouwhoitwas?”
“Yeah.”
Iwaitand,whenhedoesn’toffertheinformation,Isay,“Well…?”
“Ipunchedtheownerintheface.Brian’sfather.”
Myheadsnapsaround.“Whatthehell?”
“Yeah,”hesays.Herubsthescruffonhischinthoughtfully.“Becausehesaidsomethingaboutyou…”
“Me?”Igetasickfeelinginmystomach.Iknowwhat’scoming,butIdon’tknowwhat’scoming.
“Hetoldmehewasgivingyouajobasawaitress…”
Okay,that’snotsobad.Weneedthemoney.
“BecauseyouwereBrian’sgirl.SoIpunchedhim,Iguess.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah.Thatkid—Eller—toldmeweneededtoleavebeforeBrian’sdadcalledthecops.”
“Thecops?”Iecho.
“IguessBrian’sdadandmydadhaveworkedtogetheronsomestuff.Heagreednottopresschargeslastweekbecauseofit,butI’mnotsupposedtogobackthere.Also,Landonhasbeencallingaround,lookingforme.ApparentlymydadiswonderingwhyIleftpractice.Everyone’sprettypissedaboutthat.”
“Oops,”Isay.
“Yeah,oops.”Hesaysitlikehedoesn’tcare.
Wegobackthewaywecame,bothofusquiet.WepassafewstreetartistsIdidn’tnoticebefore.Twoofthemlooklikeacouple.Themanisplayingthebagpipeswhilethewomandrawspicturesincoloredchalkonthesidewalk.Westepoverthedrawings,bothofourheadsdown,examining.SilastakesouthiscameraandsnapsafewpictureswhileIwatchherturnafewlinesintoacouplekissing.
Acouplekissing.Thatremindsme.“Weneedtokiss,”Isaytohim.
Healmostdropshisphone.Hiseyesarebigwhenhelooksatme.
“Toseeifsomethinghappens…likeinthefairytaleswetalkedabout.”
“Oh,”hesays.“Yeah,sure.Okay.Where?Now?”
Irollmyeyesandwalkawayfromhim,towardafountainnearachurch.Silasfollowsbehind.Iwanttoseehisface,butIdon’tlook.Thisisallbusiness.Ican’tmakeitintosomethingelse.It’sanexperiment.That’sit.
Whenwereachthefountain,webothsitdownontherimofit.Idon’twanttodoitthisway,soIstandupandfacehim.
“Okay,”Isay,comingtostandinfrontofhim.“Closeyoureyes.”Hedoes,butthere’sagrinonhisface.
“Keepthemclosed,”Iinstruct.Idon’twanthimtoseeme.IbarelyknowwhatIlooklike;Idon’tknowifmyfacecontortsunderpressure.
Hisheadistiltedup,andmineistilteddown.Iputmyhandsonhisshouldersandfeelhishandslifttomywaistashepullsmecloser,betweenhisknees.Hishandsslideupwithoutwarning,histhumbsgrazingmystomachandthenmakingaquickswipealongtheundersideofmybra.Mystomachclenches.
“Sorry,”hesays.“Ican’tseewhatI’mdoing.”
IsmirkthistimeandI’mgladhecan’tseemyreactionrightnow.“Putyourhandsbackonmywaist,”Icommand.
Heputsthemtoolowandnowhispalmsareonmyass.Hesqueezesalittle,andIsmackhisarm.
“What?”Helaughs.“Ican’tsee!”
“Up,”Isay.Heslidesthemalittlehigher,butslowly.Itingledowntomytoes.“Higher,”Isay,again.
Hetakesthemupaquarterofaninch.“Isthis—”
Beforehecanfinishhissentence,Ileanmyfacedownandkisshim.He’ssmilingatfirst,stillinthemiddleofhislittlegame,butwhenhefeelsmylips,hissmiledissolves.
Hismouthissoft.Iliftmyhandstohisfaceandcupitashepullsmetighter,wrappinghisarmsaroundmybackside.I’mkissingdownandhe’skissingup.Atfirst,Iexpecttojustgivehimapeck.That’salltheyevershowinthefairytales—aquickpeckandthecurseisbroken.We’dhavegottenourmemoriesbackbynowifthisweregoingtowork.Theexperimentshouldbeover,butneitherofusstops.
Hekisseswithsoftlipsandafirmtongue.It’snotsloppyorwet,itmovesinandoutofmymouthsensuallyashislipssucksoftlyonmine.Irunmyfingersupthebackofhisneckandintohishair,andthat’swhenhestands,forcingmetotakeastepbackandchangeposition.Idoagoodjobofhidingmygasp.
NowI’mkissingupandhe’skissingdown.Excepthe’sholdingmetohim,hisarmwrappedaroundmywaist,hisfreehandcurledaroundthebackofmyneck.Iclingtohisshirt,dizzy.Softlips,dragging…tonguebetweenmylips…pressureonmyback…somethingpressingbetweenusthatmakesmefeelariotofheat.Ipushaway,gasping.
Istandtherelookingathim,helookingatme.
Somethinghashappened.It’snotourmemoriesthathaveawoken,butsomethingelsethatmakesusfeeldrunk.
AnditoccurstomeasIstandhere,wantinghimtokissmeagain,thatthisisexactlywhatdoesn’tneedtohappen.We’regoingtowantmoreofthenewusandwe’lllosefocus.
Heslidesahanddownhisfaceasiftosoberhimselfup.Hesmiles.“Idon’tcarewhatourrealfirstkisswas,”hesays.“That’stheoneIwanttoremember.”
Istareathissmilelongenoughtorememberit,andthenIturnandwalkaway.
“Charlie!”heyells.
Iignorehimandkeepwalking.Thatwasstupid.WhatwasIthinking?
Akissisn’tgoingtobringourmemoriesback.Thisisn’tafairytale.
Hegrabsmyarm.“Hey.Slowdown.”Andthen,“Whatareyouthinking?”
IkeepwalkinginthedirectionI’mcertainwecamefrom.“I’mthinkingIneedtogethome.IhavetomakesureJanettehaseatendinner…and…”
“Aboutus,Charlie.”
Icanfeelhimstaringatme.“Thereisnous,”Isay.Ibringmyeyesbacktohis.“Haven’tyouheard?WewereobviouslybrokenupandIwasdatingBrian.Hisdadwasgivingmeajob.I…”
“Wewereanus,Charlie.Andholyshit,Icanseewhy.”
Ishakemyhead.Wecan’tlosefocus.“Thatwasyourfirstkiss,”Isay.“Itcouldfeellikethatwithanyone.”
“Soitfeltthatwayforyoutoo?”heasks,runningaroundtostandinfrontofme.
Iconsidertellinghimthetruth.ThatifIweredeadlikeSnowWhiteandhekissedmelikethat,surelymyheartwouldkickbacktolife.ThatI’dbetheonetoslaydragonsforthatkiss.
Butwedon’thavetimetokisslikethat.Weneedtofindoutwhat’shappenedandhowtoreverseit.
“Ididn’tfeelanything,”Isay.“Itwasjustakissanditdidn’twork.”Aliethatburnsmyinsidesit’ssofoul.“Ihavetogo.”
“Charlie…”
“I’llseeyoutomorrow.”IliftahandovermyheadandwavebecauseIdon’twanttoturnaroundandlookathim.I’mafraid.Iwanttobewithhim,butit’snotagoodidea.Notuntilwefiguremoreofthisout.Ithinkhe’sgoingtofollowme,soIwaveoveracab.IopenthedoorandlookbackatSilastoshowhimthatI’mfine.Henods,andthenliftshisphonetosnapapictureofme.Thefirsttimesheleftme,he’sprobablythinking.Hethenburieshishandsinhispocketsandturnsinthedirectionofhiscar.
Iwaituntilhe’spastthefountainbeforeIleandowntospeaktothedriver.“Sorry,Ichangedmymind.”Islamthedoorandstepbacktothecurb.Idon’thavemoneyforacabanyway.I’llgobacktothedinerandaskAmyforaride
ThecabbiepeelsoffandIduckdownadifferentstreetsoSilaswon’tseeme.Ineedtobealone.Ineedtothink.14
Silas
Anothernightofshittysleep.Onlythistime,mylackofsleepwasn’tbecauseIwasworriedaboutmyself,orevenworriedaboutwhatmadeCharlieandmeloseourmemories.MylackofsleepwasstrictlybecauseIhadtwothingsonmymind:ourkiss,andCharlie’sreactiontoourkiss.
Idon’tknowwhyshewalkedaway,orwhyshepreferredtotakeacaboverridingwithme.IcouldtellbythewaysherespondedduringthekissthatshefeltwhatIwasfeeling.Ofcourseitwasn’tlikethekissesinfairytalesthatcouldendacurse,butIdon’tthinkeitherofusreallyexpecteditto.I’mnotsurewereallyhadanyexpectationsforthekissatall—justalittlebitofhope.
WhatIcertainlydidn’texpectwasforeverythingelsetotakeabackseatonceherlipspressedagainstmine,butthat’sexactlywhathappened.Istoppedthinkingaboutthereasonwewerekissingandeverythingwehadbeenthroughallday.AllIcouldthinkaboutwashowshewasclenchingmyshirtinherfists,pullingmecloser,wantingmore.Icouldhearthesmallgaspsofairshewassuckinginbetweenkisses,becauseassoonasourmouthsmet,wewerebothbreathless.Andeventhoughshestoppedthekissandsteppedaway,Icouldstillseethedazedlookonherfaceandthewayhereyeslingeredonmymouth.
Despiteallofit,though,shestillturnedandwalkedaway.ButifI’velearnedanythingaboutCharlieintheselasttwodays,it’sthatthere’sareasonforeverymoveshemakes.Andit’susuallyagoodreason,whichiswhyIdidn’ttrytostopher.
Myphonereceivesatext,andIalmostfallasIscrambleoutoftheshowertogettoit.Ihaven’theardfromhersincewepartedwayslastnight,andI’dbelyingifIsaidIwasn’tbeginningtoworry.
MyhopebleedsoutofmewhenIseethetextisn’tfromCharlie.It’sfromthekidItalkedtoatthedinerlastnight,Eller.
Eller:AmywantstoknowifCharlierodewithyoutoschool.She’snotathome.
Iturnoffthewater,despitenotevenhavingrinsedoffyet.Igrabatowelwithonehandandrespondtohistextwiththeother.
Me:No,Ihaven’tevenleftmyhouseyet.Hasshetriedhercell?
AssoonasIsendthetext,IdialCharlie’snumberandhitspeaker,thensetthephonedownonthecounter.I’mdressedbythetimehervoicemailpicksup.
“Shit,”ImutterasIendthecall.Iopenthedoorandstopbymybedroomlongenoughtogetintomyshoesandgrabmykeys.Imakeitdownstairs,butfreezebeforeIreachthefrontdoor.
There’sawomaninthekitchen,andsheisn’tEzra.“Mom?”
ThewordcomesoutofmymouthbeforeIrealizeI’mevenspeaking.Shespinsaround,andeventhoughIonlyrecognizeherfromthepicturesonthewall,IthinkImightfeelsomething.Idon’tknowwhatitis.It’snotloveorrecognition.I’mjustovercomewithasenseofcalmness.
No…it’scomfort.That’swhatIfeel.
“Hey,sweetie,”shesayswithabrightsmilethatreachesthecornersofhereyes.She’spreparingbreakfast—ormaybeshe’scleaningafterjustfinishingupbreakfast.“DidyouseethemailIputonyourdresseryesterday?Andhowareyoufeeling?”
LandonlooksmorelikeherthanIdo.Hisjawissoft,likehers.Mineisharsh,likemyfather’s.Landoncarrieshimselflikeshedoes,too.Likelifehasbeengoodtothem.
Shetiltsherheadandthenclosesthedistancebetweenus.“Silas,areyouokay?”
Itakeastepbackwhenshetriestotouchherhandtomyforehead.“I’mfine.”
ShetucksherhandtoherchestlikeitoffendsherthatIbackedaway.“Oh,”shesays.“Okay.Well,good.Youalreadymissedschoolthisweekandyouhaveagametonight.”Shewalksbackintothekitchen.“Youshouldn’tstayoutsolatewhenyou’resick.”
Istareatthebackofherhead,wonderingwhyshewouldsaythat.ThisisthefirsttimeI’veevenseenhersinceallofthisstarted.EzraormyfathermusthavetoldheraboutCharliebeinghere.
IwonderifCharliebeinghereupsether.IwonderifsheandmyfathersharethesameopinionofCharlie.
“Ifeelfinenow,”Ireply.“IwaswithCharlielastnight,that’swhyIwashomelate.”
Shedoesn’treacttomybaitedcomment.Shedoesn’tevenlookatme.Iwaitafewmoresecondstoseeifshe’sgoingtorespond.Whenshedoesn’t,Iturnandheadforthefrontdoor.
LandonisinthefrontseatalreadywhenIreachthecar.Iopenthebackdoorandthrowmybackpackinside.WhenIopenthefront,hereacheshishandouttome.“Thiswasringing.Founditunderyourseat.”
Itakethephonefromhim.It’sCharlie’s.“Sheleftherphoneinmycar?”
Landonshrugs.Istareatthescreenandthereareseveralmissedcallsandtexts.IseeBrian’sname,alongwithAmy’s.Itrytoopenthem,butI’mpromptedforapassword.
“Getinthedamncar,we’realreadylate!”
IclimbinsideandsetCharlie’sphoneontheconsolewhileIbackout.WhenIpickitbackupagaintotryandfigureoutthepassword,Landonsnatchesitoutofmyhands.
“Didyounotlearnanythingfromyourfenderbenderlastyear?”Heslapsthephonebackdownontheconsole.
I’muneasy.Idon’tlikethatCharliedoesn’thaveherphonewithher.Idon’tlikethatshedidn’tridetoschoolwithAmy.IfshealreadyleftherhousebeforeAmygotthere,whodidsheridetoschoolwith?I’mnotsurehowI’llreactifIfindoutshecaughtaridewithBrian.
“Imeanthisinthenicestwaypossible,”Landonsays.Iglanceoverathim—atthecautiouslookonhisface.“But…isCharliepregnant?”
Islamonmybreaks.Luckilythere’salightinfrontofusthatturnsred,somyreactionappearsintentional.
“Pregnant?Why?Whywouldyouaskthat?Didyouhearthatfromsomeone?”
Landonshakeshishead.“No,it’sjust…Idon’tknow.I’mtryingtofigureoutwhatthehellisgoingonwithyouandthatseemedliketheonlyjustifiableanswer.”
“Imisspracticeyesterday,soyouassumeit’sbecauseCharlieispregnant?”
Landonlaughsunderhisbreath.“It’smorethanjustthat,Silas.It’severything.YoufightingwithBrian,thepracticesyou’vemissedallweek,youditchingschoolhalfadayMonday,alldayTuesday,halfadayWednesday.It’snotlikeyou.”
Iditchedschoolthisweek?
“Also,youandCharliehavebeenactingstrangewhenyou’retogether.Notlikeyourusualselves.Youforgottopickmeupafterschool,youstayedoutpastcurfewonaschoolnight.You’vebeenreallyoffthisweek,andIdon’tknowifyouwanttotellmewhatthehellisgoingon,butit’sreallystartingtoworryme.”
Iwatchasthedisappointmentfillshiseyes.
Wewereclose.He’sdefinitelyagoodbrother,Icantell.He’susedtoknowingallmysecrets—allmythoughts.Iwonderiftheseridestoandfromschoolarewhenwenormallysharethem.IwonderifIweretotellhimwhatI’mreallythinking—ifhewouldevenbelieveme.
“Thelight’sgreen,”hesays,facingforward.
Ibegindrivingagain,butIdon’tshareanysecretswithhim.Idon’tknowwhattosayorhowtoevenbegintellinghimthetruth.IjustknowIdon’twanttolietohimbecausethatdoesn’tseemlikesomethingtheoldSilaswoulddo.
WhenIpullintoaparkingspot,heopenshisdoorandgetsout.“Landon,”Isaybeforeheshutsthedoor.Heleansdownandlooksatme.“I’msorry.I’mjusthavinganoffweek.”
Henodsthoughtfullyandturnshisattentiontowardtheschool.Heworkshisjawbackandforthandthenlockseyeswithmeagain.“Hopefullyyourweekisbackonbeforethegametonight,”hesays.“Youhavealotofpissed-offteammatesrightnow.”
Heslamsthedoorandbeginswalkinginthedirectionoftheschool.IgrabCharlie’sphoneandheadinside.
Icouldn’tfindherinthehalls,soIwenttomyfirsttwoclasses.I’mheadedtomythirdnow,stillwithnowordfromher.I’msureshejustsleptlateandI’llseeherwhenwehaveclasstogetherfourthperiod.Butstillsomethingdoesn’tfeelright.Everythingfeelsoff.
Shecouldjustbeavoidingme,butthatdoesn’tseemlikesomethingshewoulddo.Shewouldgooutofherwaytoletmeknowshedoesn’twanttospeaktome.She’dthrowitinmyface.
Igotomylockertofindmythirdperiodmathbook.Iwouldcheckherlockertoseeifanyofhertextbooksaremissing,butIdon’tknowthecombinationtoherlock.Itwaswrittenonherschedule,butIgavethattoheryesterday.
“Silas!”
IturnaroundtoseeAndrewfightinghiswaythroughthecrowdedhallwaylikeafishswimmingupstream.Hefinallygivesupandyells,“Janettewantsyoutocallher!”Heturnsandheadsintheoppositedirectionagain.
Janette…Janette…Janette…
Charlie’ssister!
Ifindhernameinthecontactsinmyphone.Sheanswersonthefirstring.
“Silas?”shesays.
“Yeah,it’sme.”
“IsCharliewithyou?”
Iclosemyeyes,feelingthepanicbegintosettleinthepitofmystomach.“No,”Ireply.“Shedidn’tcomehomelastnight?”
“No,”Janettesays.“Inormallywouldn’tbeworried,butsheusuallytellsmeifshe’snotcominghome.Shenevercalledandnowshe’snotrespondingtomytexts.”
“Ihaveherphone.”
“Whydoyouhaveherphone?”
“Sheleftitinmycar,”Isay.Iclosemylockerandbegintoheadtowardtheexit.“Wegotintoanargumentlastnightandshegotinacab.Ithoughtshewasgoingstraighthome.”
Istopwalkingwhenithitsme.Shedidn’thavelunchmoneyyesterday—whichmeansshewouldn’thavehadcabfarelastnight.
“I’mleavingschool,”ItellJanette.“I’llfindher.”
IhangupbeforeIevengiveherachancetorespond.Isprintdownthehallwaytowardthedoorthatleadstotheparkinglot,butassoonasIroundthecorner,Istopshort.
Avril.
Shit.Nowisnotthetimeforthis.Itrytoduckmyheadandwalkpasther,butshegrabsthesleeveofmyshirt.Istopwalkingandfaceher.
“Avril,Ican’trightnow.”Ipointtotheexit.“Ineedtoleave.Kindofanemergency.”
Shereleasesmyshirtandfoldsherarmsoverherchest.“Younevershowedupduringlunchyesterday.Ithoughtmaybeyouwererunninglate,butwhenIcheckedthecafeteria,youwerethere.Withher.”
Christ,Idon’thavetimeforthis.Infact,IthinkI’llsavemyselfanyfuturetroubleandjustenditnow.
Isighandrunahandthroughmyhair.“Yeah,”Isay.“CharlieandI…wedecidedtoworkthingsout.”
Avriltiltsherheadandshootsmeanincredulouslook.“No,Silas.Thatisn’twhatyouwant,andit’sdefinitelynotgoingtoworkforme.”
Ilookleft,downthehall,andthenright.WhenIseenoone’saround,Itakeasteptowardher.“Listen,Ms.Ashley,”Isay,takingcaretoaddressherprofessionally.Ilookherdirectlyintheeyes.“Idon’tthinkyou’reinanypositiontotellmehowthingsaregoingtobebetweenthetwoofus.”
Hereyesimmediatelynarrow.Shestandssilentlyforseveralsecondsasthoughshe’swaitingformetolaughandtellherI’monlykidding.WhenIdon’tfalter,shehuffsandshovesherhandsagainstmychest,pushingmeoutoftheway.TheclickofherheelsbeginstofadethefartherIsprintawayfromher—towardtheexit.
I’mknockingforathirdtimeonCharlie’sfrontdoorwhenitfinallyfliesopen.Hermotherisstandinginfrontofme.Wildhair,wildereyes.It’sasifhatredspewsfromhersoulthemomentsherealizesI’mstandinghere.
“Whatdoyouwant?”shespits.
Itrytoglancepasthertogetalookinsidethehouse.Shemovestoblockmyview,soIpointoverhershoulder.“IneedtotalktoCharlie.Isshehere?”
HermothertakesastepoutsideandpullsthedoorshutbehindhersothatIcan’tseeinsideatall.“That’snoneofyourbusiness,”shehisses.“Getthehelloffmyproperty!”
“Isshehereornot?”
Shefoldsherarmsoverherchest.“Ifyouaren’toutofmydrivewayinfiveseconds,I’mcallingthepolice.”
Ithrowmyhandsupindefeatandgroan.“I’mworriedaboutyourdaughter,socanyoupleaseputyourangerasideforoneminuteandtellmeifshe’sinside?”
Shetakestwoquickstepstowardmeandpokesafingerintomychest.“Don’tyoudareraiseyourvoiceatme!”
JesusChrist.
Ipushpastherandkickopenthedoor.ThefirstthingI’mhitwithisthesmell.Theairisstale.Afogofthickcigarettesmokefillstheairandassaultsmylungs.IholdmybreathasImakemywaythroughthelivingroom.There’sabottleofwhiskeyopenonthebar,sittingnexttoanemptyglass.Mailisscatteredacrossthetable—whatlookslikeseveraldays’worth.It’slikethiswomandoesn’tevencareenoughtoopenanyofit.TheenvelopeonthetopofthestackisaddressedtoCharlie.
Imovetopickitup,buthearthewomanstalkingintothehousebehindme.Imakemywaydownthehallandseetwodoorstomyrightandoneontheleft.Ipushopenthedoortomyleft,justasCharlie’smotherbeginsscreamingfrombehindme.Iignoreherandmakemywayintothebedroom.
“Charlie!”Iyell.Iglancearoundtheroom,knowingsheisn’there,butstillhopingI’mwrong.Ifsheisn’there,Idon’tknowwhereelsetolook.Idon’trememberanyoftheplacesweusedtohangout.
ButneitherwouldCharlie,Iguess.
“Silas!”hermotheryellsfromthedoorwaytothebedroom.“Getout!I’mcallingthepolice!”Shedisappearsfromthedoorway,probablytoretrieveaphone.Icontinuemysearchfor…Idon’tevenknow.Charlieobviouslyisn’there,butIkeeplookingaroundanyway,hopingtofindsomethingthatcouldhelp.
IknowwhichsideoftheroomisCharlie’sbecauseofthepictureofthegateaboveherbed.TheoneshesaidItook.
Ilookaroundforclues,butfindnothing.Irememberhermentioningsomethingaboutanatticinhercloset,soIcheckthecloset.There’sasmallholeatthetopofit.Itlookslikesheuseshershelvesassteps.“Charlie!”Icallout
Nothing.
“Charlie,areyouupthere?”
JustasIcheckthesturdinessofthebottomshelfwithmyfoot,somethingslamsagainstthesideofmyhead.Iturn,butimmediatelyduckagainwhenIseeaplateflyoutofthewoman’shand.Itcrashesagainstthewallnexttomyhead.“Getout!”shescreams.She’slookingformorethingstothrow,soIputmyhandsupinsurrender.
“I’mleaving,”Itellher.“I’llleave!”
Shemovesoutofthedoorwaytoletmepass.She’sstillyellingasImakemywaydownthehall.AsIwalktowardthefrontdoor,IswipetheletteroffthebarthatwasaddressedtoCharlie.Idon’tevenbothertellingCharlie’smothertohavehercallmeifshemakesithome.
Igetinmycarandpullbackontothestreet.
Wherethehellisshe?
IwaituntilI’mafewmilesawayandthenIpullovertocheckherphoneagain.Landonmentionedhehearditringingundertheseat,soIleanoverandreachmyhandbeneaththeseat.Ipulloutanemptysodacan,ashoeandthenfinally—herwallet.Iopenitandsiftthroughit,butfindnothingIdon’talreadyknow.
She’ssomewhereoutthere,withoutherphoneorherwallet.Shedoesn’thaveanyone’snumbersmemorized.Ifshedidn’tcomehome,wherewouldshehavegone?
Ipunchthesteeringwheel.“Dammit,Silas!”Ishouldhaveneverletherleavebyherself.Thisisallmyfault.
Myphonereceivesanincomingtext.ThetextisfromLandon,wonderingwhyIleftschool.
IdropthephonebackontotheseatandnoticetheletterIstolefromCharlie’shouse.There’snoreturnaddress.ThedatestampinthetopcornerisfromTuesday—thedaybeforeallofthishappened.
Iopentheenvelopeandfindseveralpagesinside,foldedtogether.
Acrossthefront,itreadsOpenimmediately
Iunfoldthepagesandmyeyesinstantlyfalltothetwonameswrittenatthetopofthepage.
CharlieandSilas.It’saddressedtobothofus?Ikeepreading.
Ifyoudon’tknowwhyyou’rereadingthis,thenyou’veforgotteneverything.Yourecognizenoone,notevenyourselves.
Pleasedon’tpanic,andreadthisletterinitsentirety.Wewillshareeverythingweknow,whichrightnowisn’tmuch.
Whatthehell?MyhandsbegintoshakeasIcontinuereading.
Wearen’tsurewhathappened,butwe’reafraidifwedon’twriteitdown,itmighthappenagain.Atleastwitheverythingwrittendownandleftinmorethanoneplace,we’llbemorepreparedifitdoeshappenagain.
Onthefollowingpages,you’llfindalltheinformationweknow.Maybeitwillhelpinsomeway.
CharlieandSilas
Istareatthenamesatthebottomofthepageuntilmyvisionisblurry.Ilookatthenamesatthetopofthepageagain.CharlieandSilas.
Ilookatthenamesatthebottom.CharlieandSilas.
Wewroteourselvesaletter?
Itmakesnosense.Ifwewroteourselvesaletter…
Iimmediatelyfliptothepagesthatfollow.ThefirsttwopagesarethingsIalreadyknow.Ouraddresses,ourphonenumbers.Wherewegotoschool,whatourclassesare,oursiblings’names,ourparents’names.IreadthroughitallasfastasIpossiblycan.
Myhandsareshakingsobadlybythethirdpage,Icanhardlyreadthehandwriting.Isetthepageinmylaptofinish.It’smorepersonalinformation—alistofthingswe’vefiguredoutaboutoneanotheralready,ourrelationship,howlongwe’vebeentogether.ThelettermentionsBrian’snameassomeonewhokeepstextingCharlie.IskipoverallthefamiliarinformationuntilIgetclosetotheendofthethirdpage.
ThefirstmemorieseitherofuscanrecallarefromSaturday,October4th,around11am.TodayisSunday,October5th.We’regoingtomakeacopyofthisletterforourselves,butwillalsomailcopiesinthemorning,justtobesafe.
Ifliptothefourthpageandit’sdatedTuesday,October7th.
Ithappenedagain.Thistime,ithappenedduringhistoryclassonMonday,October6th.Itappearstohavehappenedatthesametimeofday,48hourslater.Wedon’thaveanythingnewtoaddtotheletter.Webothdidourbesttostayawayfromfriendsandfamilythepastday,fakingillnesses.We’vebeencallingoneanotherwithanyinformationweknow,butsofaritseemsthishashappenedtwice.ThefirsttimebeingSaturday,thesecondbeingMonday.Wishwehadmoreinformation,butwe’restillkindoffreakedoutthatthisishappeningandaren’tsurewhattodoaboutit.We’lldowhatwedidlasttimeandmailcopiesofthislettertoourselves.Also,therewillbeacopyinthegloveboxofSilas’scar.That’sthefirstplacewelookedthistime,sothere’sagoodchanceyou’lllookthereagain.
Inevercheckedtheglovebox.
We’llkeeptheoriginalletterssomewheresafesonoonewillfindthem.We’reafraidifanyoneseestheletters,orifanyonesuspectsanything,they’llthinkwe’regoingcrazy.EverythingwillbeinaboxonthebackofthethirdshelfofSilas’sbedroomcloset.Ifthispatterncontinues,there’sachanceitcouldhappenagainonWednesdayatthesametime.Incaseitdoes,thislettershouldarrivetobothofyouthatday.
Ilookatthetimestampontheenvelopeagain.ItwasmailedfirstthingTuesdaymorning.AndWednesdayat11amisexactlywhenthishappenedtous.
Ifyoufindanythingoutthatwillhelp,addittothenextpageandkeepthisgoinguntilwefigureoutwhatstartedit.Andhowtostopit.
Ifliptothelastpage,butit’sblank.
Ilookattheclock.It’s10:57am.It’sFriday.Thishappenedtousalmostforty-eighthoursago.
Mychestisheaving.Thiscan’tbehappening.
Forty-eighthourswillbeupinlessthanthreeminutes.
Iflipopenmyconsoleandsearchforapen.Idon’tfindone,soIyankopentheglovebox.RightontopisacopyofthesameletterwithCharlie’sandmynamesonit.Iliftitupandthereareseveralpens,soIgraboneandflattenthepaperoutagainstthesteeringwheel.
Ithappenedagain,Iwrite.Myhandsareshakingsobad,Idropthepen.Ipickitupagainandkeepwriting.
At11am,Wednesday,October8th,CharlieandIbothlostourmemoriesforwhatappearstobethethirdtimeinarow.Thingswe’velearnedinthelast48hours:
-Ourfathersusedtoworktogether.
-Charlie’sfatherisinprison.
I’mwritingasfastasIcan,tryingtofigureoutwhichpointsIneedtowritedownfirst—whicharethemostimportant,becauseI’malmostoutoftime.
-WevisitedatarotreaderonSt.PhilipStreet.Thatmightbeworthcheckingoutagain.
-Charliementionedagirlatschool—calledherTheShrimp.Saidshewantedtotalktoher.
-Charliehasanatticinherbedroomcloset.Shespendsalotoftimeinthere.
IfeellikeI’mwastingtime.IfeellikeI’mnotaddinganythingofimportancetothisdamnlist.Ifthisistrueandit’sabouttohappenagain,Iwon’thavetimetomailaletter,muchlessmakecopies.HopefullyifIhaveitinmyhands,I’llbesmartenoughtoreaditandnotjusttossitaside.
Ibitethetipofthepen,attemptingtofocusonwhattowritenext.
-Wegrewuptogether,butnowourfamilieshateeachother.Theydon’twantustogether.
-Silaswassleepingwiththeguidancecounselor,CharliewithBrianFinley.Webrokeitoffwithbothofthem.
-Landonisagoodbrother,youcanprobablytrusthimifyouhaveto.
Icontinuetowrite.Iwriteaboutourtattoos,TheElectricCrushDiner,Ezra,andanythingandeverythingIcanrecallfromthelastforty-eighthours.
Ilookattheclock.10:59.
Charliedoesn’tknowaboutthisletter.IfeverythinginthislettersofarisaccurateandthisreallyhasbeenhappeningtoussincelastSaturday,thatmeansshe’sabouttoforgeteverythingshe’slearnedinthepastforty-eighthours.AndIhavenoideahowtofindher.Howtowarnher.
Ipressthepentothepaperagainandwriteonelastthing.
-CharliegotintoacabonBourbonStreetlastnightandnoonehasseenhersince.Shedoesn’tknowaboutthisletter.Findher.Thefirstthingyouneedtodoisfindher.Please.PART215
Silas
Itstartsslowly.Therain.
Asplatterhere,asplashthere.Firstonthewindshieldinfrontofmeandthenagainstthewindowssurroundingme.Thedropsbegintosoundlikethousandsoffingertipstappingthetopofmycaroutofunison.Tap-tatap-tap-ta-ta-tap-tap-tap.Thesoundisallaroundmenow.Itfeelslikeit’scomingfrominsideme,tryingtogetout.Therainbeginstotrickledownthewindshield,thickenoughtomixtogetherinlonglinesthatresembletears.Theyslidetothebottomanddisappearbeyondtheglass.Iattempttoturnmywiperson,butmycarisoff.
Whyisn’tmycaron?
Iwipethefogoffmywindowwiththepalmofmyhandtoseeoutside,buttherainisfallingsohardnowIcan’tseeanything.
WhereamI?
Iturnaroundandlookinthebackseat,butthere’snoonethere.
Nothingthere.Ifaceforwardagain.
Think,think,think.
WherewasIheaded?Imusthavefallenasleep.
Idon’tknowwhereIam.
Idon’tknowwhere“I”am.I…I…I…
WhoamI?
ItseemssonaturaltothinkthoughtsthatcontainthewordI.Buteachofmythoughtsarehollowandweightless,becausethewordIisattachedtonoone.Noname,noface.Iam…nothing.
Thehumofanenginestealsmyattentionasacarslowsnexttomineontheroad.Watersplashesacrossthewindshieldasitpasses.Imakeouttaillightsasthecarslowsandthenpullsoverinfrontofme.
Reverselights.
Myheartbeginstobeatinmythroat,myfingertips,mytemples.Thelightsatopthecarbreathetolife.Red,blue,red,blue.Iwatchassomeoneexitsthevehicle.AllIcanmakeoutistheirsilhouetteastheybegintoapproachmycar.Ibarelymovemyneckastheywalktowardmypassengerdoor,keepingmyeyestrainedonthemastheyreachthewindow.
Atap.
Tap,tap,tap.
Ipresstheignitionbuttontogivepowertothewindows—howdidIknowhowtodothat?Irollthewindowdown.
Acop.
Help,Iwanttosay.
IforgotwhereIwasgoing,Iwanttosay.
“Silas?”
Hisvoicestartlesme.It’sloud.He’stryingtocompetewiththesoundoftherainbyyellingthewordSilas
Whatdoesthatwordmean?Silas.Maybehe’sFrench.MaybeI’minFranceandSilasisagreeting.MaybeIshouldsaySilasinreturn.
Themanclearshisthroatandthensays,“Yourcarbrokedown?”
NotFrench.
Ilookatthecontrolsonmydash.IforcemylipsapartsothatIcanformaword.Instead,Igaspforair,unawareI’vebeenholdingmybreath.WhenIreleasetheairinmylungs,itcomesoutshaky…embarrassing.Ilookbackattheofficerstandingatthewindow.“No,”Isay.Myvoicescaresme.Idon’trecognizeit.
Theofficerleansdownandmotionstomylap.“Whatyougotthere?”heasks.“Directionssomewhere?Youlost?”
Ilookdownatanunfamiliarstackofpapersrestingonmylap.Ipushthemtothepassengerseat,wantingthemoffme,andIshakemyheadagain.“I,um.Iwasjust…”
Mywordsareinterruptedbyaring.Aloudring,comingfrominsidethecar.Ifollowthesound,movingthepapersfromtheseattofindacellphonebeneaththem.IlookatthecallerID.“Janette.”
Idon’tknowaJanette.
“Youneedtogetoffthesideoftheroad,son,”theofficersays,takingastepback.Ipushabuttononthesideofthephonetogetittosilence.“Goonaheadandgetbacktotheschool.Biggametonight.”
Biggame.School.
Whydoesneitherseemfamiliar?
Inod.
“Rainshouldletupsoon,”headds.Hetapstheroofofmycarasifhe’ssendingmeoff.Inodagainandputmyfingeronthebuttonthatcontrolsthewindows.“Tellyourfathertosavemeaseattonight.”
Inodagain.Myfather.
Theofficerstaresatmeforafewsecondslonger,aquizzicallookonhisface.Hefinallyshakeshisheadandthenbeginstoretreatbacktohiscar.
Ilookdownatthephone.JustasI’mabouttohitabutton,itbeginsringingagain.
Janette.
WhoeverJanetteis,shereallywantssomeonetoanswerthisphone.Iswipethescreenandbringittomyear.
“Hello?”
“Didyoufindher?”Idon’trecognizethevoiceonthephone.Iwaitafewsecondsbeforeresponding,hopingitclicks.“Silas?Hello?”
Shejustsaidthesamewordtheofficersaid.Silas.Exceptshesaiditlikeaname.
Myname?
“What?”Isayintothephone,confusedbyeverything.
“Didyoufindher?”There’spanicinhervoice.
DidIfindher?WhoamIsupposedtobelookingfor?Iturnaroundandcheckthebackseatoncemore,eventhoughIknowthereisn’tanyoneinthecarwithme.Ifaceforwardagain,notsurehowtorespondtothequestionjustposedtome.“DidIfindher?”Iask,repeatingthequestion.“I…Didyoufindher?”
AgroancomesfromJanette.“WhywouldIbecallingyouifIfoundher?”
Ipullthephoneawayfrommyearandlookatit.I’msoconfused.Ipressitagainstmyearagain.
“No,”Isay.“Ididn’tfindher.”
Maybethisgirlismylittlesister.Shesoundsyoung.Youngerthanme.MaybeshelostherdogandIwasoutlookingforher?MaybeIhydroplanedintherainandhitmyhead.
“Silas,thisisn’tlikeher,”Janettesays.“Shewouldtellmeifshewasn’tgoingtocomehomeorshowupforschooltoday.”
Okay,Iguesswe’renottalkingaboutadoghere.AndthefactthatI’mprettysurewe’rediscussingapersonwhoisapparentlymissingmakesmereallyuncomfortable,consideringI’mnotevensurewhoIamrightnow.IneedtohangupbeforeIsaysomethingwrong.Somethingincriminating.
“Janette,Ihavetogo.I’llkeeplooking.”Ipressendandsetthephonedownontheseatnexttome.Thepapersthatweresittingonmylapcatchmyeye.Ireachoverandgrabforthem.Thepagesarestapledtogether,soIfliptothefrontpage.It’saletter,addressedtomeandsomeotherguynamedCharlie.
CharlieandSilas,Ifyoudon’tknowwhyyou’rereadingthis,thenyou’veforgotteneverything.
Whatthehell?Thefirstsentenceisn’twhatIwasexpectingtoread.Idon’tknowwhatIwasexpectingtoread.
Yourecognizenoone,notevenyourselves.Pleasedon’tpanic,andreadthisletterinitsentirety.
It’salittlelateforthedon’tpanicpart.
Wearen’tsurewhathappened,butwe’reafraidifwedon’twriteitdown,itmighthappenagain.Atleastwitheverythingwrittendownandleftinmorethanoneplace,we’llbemorepreparedifitdoeshappenagain.
Onthefollowingpages,you’llfindalltheinformationweknow.Maybeitwillhelpinsomeway.
CharlieandSilas
Idon’timmediatelyfliptothenextpage.Idropthepagesintomylapandbringmyhandstomyface.Irubthemupanddown,upanddown.IglanceintherearviewmirrorandthenimmediatelylookawaywhenIdon’trecognizetheeyesstaringbackatme.
Thiscan’tbehappening.
Isqueezemyeyesshutandbringmyfingerstothebridgeofmynose.Iwaitformyselftowakeup.Thisisadream,andIneedtowakeup.
Acarpasses,andmorewateristossedacrossthewindshield.Iwatchasittricklesdownagainanddisappearsbeneaththehood.
Ican’tbedreaming.Everythingistoovivid,toodetailedtobeadream.Dreamsaresplotchy,andtheydon’tflowfromonemomenttothenextlikeeverythingisdoingrightnow.
Ipickthepagesupagain,andwitheachsentenceitbecomeshardertoread.Myhandsbecomeincreasinglyunsteady.MymindisallovertheplaceasIscanoverthenextpage.IfindoutSilasisdefinitelymynameandthatCharlieisactuallythenameofagirl.Iwonderifshe’sthegirlwhoismissing.Icontinuetoread,eventhoughIcan’tsuspenddisbelieflongenoughtoacceptthewordsI’mreading.AndIdon’tknowwhyIwon’tallowmyselftobelieveit,becauseeverythingI’mreadingcertainlycoincideswiththefactthatIhavenorecollectionofanyofit.It’sjustthatifIweretosuspendmydisbelief,Iwouldbeadmittingthatthisispossible.ThataccordingtowhatI’mreading,I’vejustlostmymemoryforthefourthtimeinarow.
Mybreathingisalmostaserraticastherainfallingagainsttheroofofmycar.IbringmylefthanduptothebackofmyneckandsqueezeasIreadthelastparagraph.OneIapparentlyjustwroteamatteroftenminutesago.
-CharliegotintoacabonBourbonStreetlastnightandnoonehasseenhersince.Shedoesn’tknowaboutthisletter.Findher.Thefirstthingyouneedtodoisfindher.Please.
Thelastfewwordsoftheletterarescrawled,barelylegible,likeIwasrunningoutoftimewhenIwroteit.Isettheletterdownontheseat,contemplatingeverythingI’vejustlearned.Theinformationisracinginmymindfasterthanmyheartisbeatinginmychest.Icanfeeltheonsetofapanicattackcoming,ormaybeabreakdown.Igripthesteeringwheelwithbothhandsandbreatheinandoutthroughmynose.Idon’tknowhowIknowthat’ssupposedtoproduceacalmingeffect.Atfirst,itdoesn’tseemtobeworking,butIsitlikethisforseveralminutes,thinkingabouteverythingIjustlearned.BourbonStreet,Charlie,mybrother,TheShrimp,thetarotreading,thetattoos,mypenchantforphotography.Whydoesnoneofitseemfamiliar?Thishastobeajoke.Thishastobereferringtosomeoneelse.Ican’tbeSilas.IfIwereSilas,IwouldfeellikeI’mhim.Iwouldn’tfeelthiscompleteseparationfromthepersonI’msupposedtobe.
Igrabmyphoneagainandopenupthecameraapp.Ileanforwardandreachbehindme,pullingmyshirtforwardandovermyhead.Iholdthecamerabehindmeandsnapapictureofmyback,thenpullmyshirtbackintoplaceandlookatthephone.
Pearls.
Astrandofblackpearlsistattooedonmyback,justlikethelettersaid.“Shit,”Iwhisper,staringdownatthepicture.
Mystomach.IthinkI’mabouttobe…
Iopenupthecardoorjustintime.ThecontentsofwhateverIhadforbreakfastarenowonthegroundatmyfeet.MyclothesarebeingsoakedasIstandhere,waitingtogetsickagain.WhenIthinktheworstisover,Iclimbbackintothecar.
Ilookattheclock,anditreads11:11am.
I’mstillnotsurewhattobelieve,butthemoretimethatpasseswithoutrecollection,themoreIbegintoentertaintheideathatImayhavejustalittleoverforty-sevenhoursbeforethishappensagain.
Ireachacrosstheseatandopenmyglovebox.Idon’tknowwhatI’mlookingfor,butsittingheredoingnothingseemslikeawasteoftime.Ipulloutthecontents,tossingasidevehicleandinsuranceinformation.Ifindanenvelopewithournameswrittenacrossit.AduplicateofeverythingIjustread.Icontinuetoflipthroughthepapersuntilafoldedpieceofpapertuckedattheverybottomofthegloveboxstealsmyattention.Ithasmynamewrittenacrossthetopofit.Iopenit,firstreadingthesignatureatthebottom.It’saletterfromCharlie.Istartbackatthetopofthepageandbeginreading.
DearSilas,Thisisnotalovenote.Okay?Nomatterhowmuchyoutrytoconvinceyourselfthatitis—it’snot.BecauseI’mnotthattypeofgirl.Ihatethosegirls,alwayssolovesickanddisgusting.Ew.
Anyway,thisistheanti-lovenote.Forinstance,IdonotlovethewayyoubroughtmeorangejuiceandmedicinelastweekwhenIwassick.Andwhatwaswiththatcard?YouhopeIfeelbetterandyouloveme?Pfft.
AndIdefinitelydonotlovethewayyoupretendthatyoucandancewhenyoureallylooklikeamalfunctioningrobot.It’snotadorableanditdoesn’tmakemelaughatall.
Oh,andwhenyoukissmeandpullawaytotellmeI’mpretty?Don’tlikethatonedamnbit.Whycan’tyoujustbelikeotherguyswhoignoretheirgirlfriends?It’ssounfairthatIhavetodealwiththis.
Andspeakingofhowyoudoeverythingwrong,rememberwhenIhurtmybackduringcheerleadingpractice?AndyouskippedDavid’spartytorubBiofreezeonmybackandwatchedPrettyWomanwithme?Itwasaclearsignofhowneedyandselfishyoucanreallybe.
Howdareyou,Silas!
Iwillalsonolongertoleratethethingsyousayaboutmearoundourfriends.WhenAbbymadefunofmyoutfitthatdayandyoutoldherthatIcouldwearaplasticbagandmakeitlookcouture,itwaswayoutofline.AnditwasevenmoreoutoflinewhenyoudroveJanettetotheeyedoctorwhenshekeptgettingheadaches.Youneedtogetagrip.Allofthiscaringandconsiderationissounattractive.
SoIamheretotellyouthatIabsolutelydonotloveyoumorethananyhumanonthisplanet.Andthatit’snotbutterfliesIfeeleverytimeyouwalkintoaroom,butsick,one-winged,drunkenmoths.Also,you’revery,veryunattractive.IflincheverytimeIseeyourunblemishedskinandthink—Ohmygod,thatkidwouldbesomuchmoreattractivewithsomepimplesandcrookedteeth.Yeah,you’regross,Silas.
Notinlove.
Notatall.
NeverNever.
Charlie
Istareatthewayshesignedoffandreadthosewordsthroughafewmoretimes.
Notinlove.
Notatall.
NeverNever.
Charlie
Iflipthenoteover,hopingtoseeadate.There’snothingtoindicatewhenitwaswritten.Ifthisgirlwrotemeletterslikethis,thenhowcouldeverythingIjustreadinmynotesaboutthecurrentstateofourrelationshipevenbetrue?I’mobviouslyinlovewithher.OratleastIwasinlovewithher.
Whathappenedtous?Whathappenedtoher?
IfoldtheletterupandputitbackwhereIfoundit.ThefirstplaceIgoistotheaddresslistedonthepaperforCharlie’shouse.IfIdon’tfindherthere,maybeIcangetmoreinformationfromhermother,orfromanythingIcanfindthatwemighthaveoverlookedbefore.
ThegaragedoorisshutwhenIpullintoherdriveway.Ican’ttellifanyoneishome.Theplaceisgrungy.Someone’strashcansitssidewaysnexttothecurb,trashspillingoutontothestreet.Acatispawingatthebag.WhenIstepoutofthecar,thecatdashesdownthestreet.IlookaroundasImakemywaytothefrontdoor.Nooneisaround,theneighbor’swindowsanddoorsareallshuttight.Iknockseveraltimes,butnooneanswers.
IlookaroundonelasttimebeforeIturntheknob.Unlocked.Iquietlypushthedooropen.
Intheletterswewrotetoourselves,wementionCharlie’satticafewtimes,sothat’sthefirstplaceIsearchfor.Charlie’sattic.I’mmeetingtheatticbeforeImeetthegirl.Oneofthedoorsisopeninthehallway.Iwalkinandfindthebedroomempty.Twobeds—thismustbewhereCharlieandhersistersleep.
Iwalktotheclosetandlookupattheceiling,findingtheentrancetotheattic.Ipushclothesaside,andasmellfillsmynose.Hersmell?Floral.Itsmellsfamiliar,butthat’scrazy,right?IfIcan’trememberher,Ican’tpossiblyrememberhersmell.Iusetheclosetshelvesasstairsandmakemywayup.
Theonlylightinsidetheatticcomesfromthewindowontheothersideoftheroom.It’senoughtoilluminatewhereI’mgoing,butnotbymuch,soIpulloutmyphoneandopentheflashlightapp.
Ipauseandstaredownattheopenapponmyphone.HowdidIknowthatwasthere?IwishtherewererhymeorreasontowhyIremembersomethingsandnotothers.Itrytofindacommonlinkinthememoriesbutcomeupcompletelyempty.
Ihavetohunchoverbecausetheceilingistoolowformetostandupright.Icontinueacrosstheattic,towardamakeshiftsittingareaonthefarsideoftheroom.There’sapileofblanketslinedwithpillows.
Sheactuallysleepsuphere?
Ishuddertryingtoimagineanyonewillinglyspendingtimeinaplacethisisolated.Shemustbealoner.
Ihavetobendovermoretoavoidhittingmyheadontherafters.WhenIreachtheareashe’smadeupforherself,Ilookaround.Therearestacksofbooksbesidethepillows.Someofthebookssheusesastables,toppedwithpictureframes.
Dozensofbooks.Iwonderifshe’sreadthemall,orifshejustneedsthemforcomfort.Maybesheusesthemasanescapefromherreallife.Fromthelooksofthisplace,Idon’tblameher.
Ibenddownandpickoneup.Thecoverisdark,ofahouseandagirl,mergingtogetherasone.It’screepy.Ican’timaginesittingupherealone,readingbookslikethisinthedark.
IsetthebookdownwhereIfoundit,andmyattentionfallsonacedarchestpushedupagainstthewall.Itlooksheavyandold,likemaybeit’ssomethingthat’sbeenpasseddowninherfamily.Iwalkovertoitandopenthelid.Inside,thereareseveralbooks,allwithblankcovers.Ipickupthetoponeandopenit.
January7th–July15th,2011
Iflipthroughthepagesandseethatit’sajournal.Intheboxbeneaththisone,thereareatleastfivemore.
Shemustlovetowrite.
Ilookaround,liftingpillowsandblankets,searchingforsomethingtoputthejournalsin.IfIwanttofindthisgirl,Ineedtoknowwhereshefrequents.Placesshemightbe,peopleshemightknow.Journalsaretheperfectwaytofindoutthatinformation.
Ifindanempty,wornbackpackonthefloorafewfeetaway,soIgrabitandstuffallthejournalsinside.Ibeginpushingthingsaside,shakingoutbooks,lookingaroundforanythingandeverythingthatmighthelpme.Ifindseverallettersinvariousplaces,afewstacksofpictures,randomstickynotes.ItakeeverythingIcanfitintothebackpackandmakemywaybacktotheatticopening.Iknowtherearealsoafewthingsinthebedroomatmyownhouse,soI’llgotherenextandsortthroughitallasfastasIcan.
WhenIreachtheopening,Idropthebackpackthroughtheatticholefirst.IthitsthegroundwithaloudthudandIflinch,knowingIshouldbequieter.Ibegintodescendtheshelvesonebyone,tryingtoimagineCharliemakingthejourneyupanddownthesemakeshiftstairseverynight.Herlifemustbeprettybadifsheescapestotheatticbychoice.WhenImakeittothebottom,Igrabthebackpackandstandupstraight.Ipullitovermyshoulderandstarttowardthedoor.
Ifreeze.
I’mnotsurewhattodo,becausetheofficerwhotappedonmywindowearlierisnowstaringstraightatme.
Isbeinginsidemygirlfriend’shouseillegal?
Awomanappearsinthedoorwaybehindtheofficer.Hereyesarefranticandthey’relinedwithmascara—likeshejustwokeup.Herhairiswild,andevenfromseveralfeetaway,thescentofalcoholfindsitswayacrosstheroom.
“Itoldyouhewasupthere!”sheyells,pointingatme.“Iwarnedhimjustthismorningtostayoffmyproperty,andhe’sbackagain!”
Thismorning?
Great.WishIhadinformedmyselfofthatfactintheletter.“Silas,”theofficersays.“Youmindcomingoutsidewithme?”
Inodandproceedcautiouslytowardthem.Itdoesn’tseemlikeI’vedoneanythingwrong,sincehe’sonlyaskingmetospeakwithhim.IfIdidanythingwrong,hewouldhaveimmediatelyreadmemyrights.
“Heknowshe’snotsupposedtobehere,Grant!”thewomanyells,walkingbackwarddownthehall,towardthelivingroom.“Heknowsthis,buthekeepscomingback!He’sjusttryingtogetariseoutofme!”
Thiswomanhatesme.Alot.AndnotknowingwhymakesithardnottojustapologizeforwhateverthehellIdidtoher.
“Laura,”hesays.“I’llhaveatalkwithSilasoutside,butyouneedtocalmdownandmoveasidesothatIcandothat.”
Shestepstothesideandglaresatmeaswepassher.“Yougetawaywitheverything,justlikeyourdaddy,”shesays.Ilookawayfromhersoshewon’tseetheconfusiononmyface,andIfollowOfficerGrantoutside,clutchingthebackpackovermyshoulder.
Luckilytherainhasletup.Wekeepwalkinguntilwe’restandingnexttomycar.Heturnstofaceme,andIhavenoideaifI’llbeabletoanswerthequestionshe’sabouttothrowatme,buthopefullytheyaren’ttoospecific.
“Whyareyounotatschool,Silas?”
Ipursemylipstogetherandthinkabouttheanswertothat.“I,um…”Ilookoverhisshoulderatapassingcar.“I’mlookingforCharlie.”
Idon’tknowifIshouldhavesaidthat.Surelyifthecopsweren’tsupposedtoknowshewasmissing,Iwouldhaveclarifiedthatintheletter.ButtheletteronlystatedthatIneededtodowhateverIcouldtofindher,andreportinghermissingseemslikeitwouldbethefirststep.
“Whatdoyoumeanyou’relookingforher?Whyisn’tsheatschool?”
Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.Shehasn’tcalled,hersisterhasn’theardfromher,shedidn’tshowupforschooltoday.”Ithrowahandbehindmeinthedirectionofthehouse.“Herownmotherisobviouslytoodrunktonoticeshe’smissing,soIthoughtI’dtrytofindhermyself.”
Hetiltshishead,moreoutofcuriositythanconcern.“Whowasthelastpersontoseeher?Andwhen?”
IswallowasIshiftuncomfortablyonmyfeet,tryingtorecallwhatwaswrittenaboutlastnightintheletter.“Me.Lastnight.Wegotintoanargumentandsherefusedtoridehomewithme.”
OfficerGrantmotionsforsomeonebehindmetocometowardus.Iturnaround,andCharlie’smotherisstandingintheopendoorway.Shecrossesthethresholdandmakesherwayouttotheyard.
“Laura,doyouknowwhereyourdaughteris?”
Sherollshereyes.“She’satschoolwhereshe’ssupposedtobe.”
“Sheisnot,”Iinterject.
OfficerGrantkeepshiseyestrainedonLaura.“DidCharliecomehomelastnight?”
Lauraglancesatmeandthenlooksbackattheofficer.“Ofcourseshedid,”shesays.Hervoicetapersoffattheendlikeshe’snotsure.
“She’slying,”Iblurtout.
OfficerGrantholdsupahandtohushme,stilldirectinghisquestionsatLaura.“Whattimedidshecomehome?”
IcanseetheconfusionwashoverLaura’sface.Sheshrugs.“Igroundedherforskippingschoolthisweek.Soshewasupinherattic,Iguess.”
Irollmyeyes.“Shewasn’tevenhome!”Isay,raisingmyvoice.“Thiswomanwasobviouslytoodrunktoknowifherowndaughterwaseveninsidethehouse!”
Sheclosesthedistancebetweenusandbeginspoundingherfistsagainstmyarmsandchest.“Getoffmyproperty,yousonofabitch!”shescreams.
Theofficergrabsherbythearmsandmotionshiseyestomytruck.“Forthelasttime,Nash.Gobacktoschool.”
Lauraisthrashinginhisarms,tryingtobreakfree.She’snotevenfazinghimashekeepsherinatightgrip.Thisseemssonormaltohim;itmakesmewonderifshe’scalledthecopsonmebefore.
“But…whataboutCharlie?”I’mconfusedastowhynooneelseseemstobeconcernedabouther.Especiallyherownmother.
“Likehermothersaid,she’sprobablyatschool,”hesays.“Atanyrate,she’llshowuptothegametonight.We’lltalkthere.”
Inod,butIknowgoodandwellI’mnotgoingbacktotheschool.I’mtakingmybagofCharlie’ssecretsandI’mgoingstraighttomyhousetofindmore.16
Silas
ThefirstthingIdowhenIwalkthroughthedoortomyhomeispause.Noneofitlooksfamiliar,noteventhepicturesonthewalls.Iwaitforafewseconds,lettingeverythingsinkin.Icouldsearchthehouseorbrowsethepictures,butI’veprobablyalreadydonethat.I’monatimecrunch,andifIwanttofigureoutwhathappenedtoCharlie—whathappenedtous—Ineedtokeepfocusedonthethingswehaven’twastedtimedoingbefore.
Ifindmybedroomandwalkstraighttothecloset—totheshelfthatcontainsalltheotherstuffwe’vecollected.Idumpeverythingoutontomybed,includingthecontentsoftheduffelbag.Siftingthroughitall,Itrytofigureoutwheretobegin.There’ssomuchstuff.IgrabapensoIcanmakenotesofanythingIfindthatmightbeofuseifIendupforgettingthisalloveragain.
IknowalotofthingsaboutmyrelationshipwithCharlieasoflate,butthatseemstobeit.Iknowalmostnothingabouthowwegottogetherorhowourfamiliesweretornapart.Idon’tknowifanyofthatisevenafactorinwhat’shappenedtous,butIfeellikethebestplacetostartisfromthebeginning.
Igraboneoftheolder-lookingnotesaddressedtoCharlie—somethingIwrotemyself.It’sdatedoverfouryearsagoandisjustoneofthemanylettersIgrabbedfromherattic.MaybereadingsomethingfrommypointofviewwillhelpmefigureoutwhattypeofpersonIam,evenifthisletterisoverfouryearsold.
Isitdownonthebedandleanagainstmyheadboard,andIbegintoread.
Charlie,Canyourecallasingletimewewentonvacationwithouteachother?I’vebeenthinkingaboutthattoday.Abouthowit’sneverjustmyimmediatefamilyandme.It’salwaysbothsetsofourparents,Landon,Janette,youandme.
Onebighappyfamily.
I’mnotsurewe’veeverspentaholidayapart,either.Christmas,Easter,Thanksgiving.We’vealwayssharedthemtogether,eitheratourhouseoryours.Maybethat’swhyI’veneverfeltlikeit’sjustbeenmylittlebrotherandme.I’vealwaysfeltlikeIhadabrotherandtwosisters.AndIcan’timaginenotfeelingthatway—likeyou’repartofmyfamily.
ButI’mscaredthatI’veruinedthat.AndIdon’tevenknowwhattosaytoyou,becauseIdon’twanttoapologizeforkissingyoulastnight.IknowIshouldregretit,andIknowIshouldbedoingwhateverIcantomakeupforthefactthatImighthaveofficiallyruinedourfriendship,butIdon’tregretit.I’vewantedtomakethatmistakeforalongtimenow.
I’vebeentryingtofigureoutwhenmyfeelingsforyouchanged,butIrealizedtonightthattheyhaven’tchanged.Myfeelingsforyouasmybestfriendhaven’tchangedatall—they’vejustevolved.
Yes,Iloveyou,butnowI’minlovewithyou.Andinsteadoflookingatyoulikeyou’rejustmybestfriend,nowyou’remybestfriendwhoIwanttokiss.
Andyes,I’velovedyoulikeabrotherloveshissister.ButnowIloveyoulikeaguylovesagirl.
Sodespitethatkiss,Ipromisenothinghaschangedbetweenus.It’sjustbecomesomethingmore.Somethingsomuchbetter.
Lastnight,whenyouwerelyingnexttomeonthisbed,lookingupatmeinbreathlesslaughter,Icouldn’thelpmyself.Somanytimesyou’vetakenmybreathawayormadeitfeellikemyheartwastrappedinsidemystomach.Butlastnightwasmorethananyfourteen-year-oldboycouldhandle.SoItookyourfaceinmyhandsandIkissedyou,justlikeI’vebeendreamingofdoingforoverayearnow.
Lately,whenI’maroundyou,Ifeeltoodrunktospeaktoyou.AndI’venevereventastedalcoholbefore,butI’msurekissingyouiswhatbeingdrunkfeelslike.Ifthat’sthecase,I’malreadyworriedformysobrietybecauseIcanseemyselfbecomingaddictedtokissingyou.
Ihaven’theardfromyousincethemomentyoupulledyourselfoutfromundermeandwalkedstraightoutofmybedroomlastnight,soI’mbeginningtoworrythatyoudon’trememberthatkisslikeIdo.Youhaven’tansweredyourphone.Youhaven’trespondedtomytexts.SoI’mwritingyouthisletterincaseyouneedtoberemindedofhowyoureallyfeelaboutme.Becauseitseemslikeyou’retryingtoforget.
Pleasedon’tforget,Charlie.
Neverallowyourstubbornnesstotalkyouintobelievingthatourkisswaswrong
Neverforgethowrightitfeltwhenmylipsfinallytouchedyours.Neverstopneedingmetokissyoulikethatagain.
Neverforgetthewayyoupulledcloser—wantingittofeellikemyheartwasbeatinginsideyourchest.
NeverstopmefromkissingyouinthefuturewhenoneofyourlaughsmakesmewishIcouldbeapartofyouagain.
NeverstopwantingmetoholdyoulikeIfinallygottoholdyoulastnight.
NeverforgetthatIwasyourfirstrealkiss.Neverforgetthatyou’llbemylast.
Andneverstoplovingmebetweenallofthem.
Neverstop,Charlie.
Neverforget.
Silas
Idon’tknowhowlongIstareattheletter.Longenoughtogrowconfusedastohowitmakesmefeel.HoweventhoughIdon’tknowthisgirlatall,Isomehowbelieveeverywordofthisletter.Andmaybeevenfeelitalittle.Mypulsebeginstoquicken,becauseI’vedoneallIknowhowtodointhepasthourtofindher,andtheneedtoknowshe’sokayisimminent.
I’mworriedabouther.
Ineedtofindher.
Igrabanotherletterformoreclueswhenmyphonerings.IpickitupandansweritwithoutlookingatthecallerID.There’snopointinscreeningthecalls,sinceIdon’tknowanyofthepeoplewhowouldevenbecallingme.
“Hello?”
“Youdorealizetonightisoneofthemostimportantgamesofyourfootballcareer,right?Whyinthehellareyounotatschool?”
Thevoiceisheavyandangry.
Mustbemyfather.
Ipullthephoneawayfrommyearandlookdownatit.Ihavenoideawhattosay.IneedtoreadmoreoftheselettersbeforeIwouldknowhowSilaswouldnormallyrespondtohisfather.Ineedtofindoutmoreaboutthesepeoplewhoseemtoknoweverythingaboutme.
“Hello?”Irepeat.
“Silas,Idon’tknowwhat’sgotten—”
“Ican’thearyou,”Isaylouder.“Hello?”
Beforehecanspeakagain,Iendthecallanddropthephoneontothebed.Igraballofthelettersandjournalsthatwillfitintothebackpack.IrushtoleavebecauseIshouldn’tbehere.SomeonemightshowupwhoI’mnotpreparedtointeractwithyet.
Someonelikemyfather.17
Charlie
WhereamI?
That’sthefirstquestion.Then,WhoamI?
Ishakemyheadfromsidetoside,likethissimpleactcouldjarmybrainbackintoworkingorder.Peoplenormallywakeupandknowwhotheyare…right?Myheartaches,it’spoundingsofast.I’mscaredtositup,afraidofwhatI’llseewhenIdo.
I’mconfused…overwhelmed,soIstarttocry.Isitweirdtonotknowwhoyouare,buttounderstandthatyou’renotacrier?IamsomadatmyselfforcryingthatIswipehardatmytearsandsitup,bangingmyheadprettyhardonthemetalbarsofabedintheprocess.Iflinch,rubbingmyhead.
I’malone.That’sgood.
Idon’tknowhowI’dexplaintosomeonethatIhavenocluewhoorwhereIam.I’monabed.Inaroom.It’shardtotellwhatkindofroom,becauseit’ssodark.Nowindows.AbulbflickersontheceilinginastrugglingMorsecode.It’snotstrongenoughtoreallyilluminatethesmallroom,butIcantellthatthefloorismadeofshinywhitetile,andthewallsarepaintedwhite,bareexceptforasmalltelevisionboltedtothewall.
Thereisadoor.Istanduptogotoit,butthereisaheavyfeelinginmystomachasIplacemyfeetoneinfrontoftheother.It’sgoingtobelocked,it’sgoingtobelocked…
It’slocked.
Ifeelpanic,butIcalmmyself,tellmyselftobreathe.I’mshakingasIpressmybackagainstthedoorandlookdownatmybody.I’mwearingahospitalgown,socks.Irunmyhandsovermylegstocheckhowhairytheyare—notvery.WhichmeansIshavedrecently?Ihaveblackhair.Ipullapieceofitinfrontofmyfacetoexamineit.Idon’tevenknowmyname.Thisiscrazy.OrmaybeI’mcrazy.Yes.Oh,myGod.I’minamentalhospital.That’stheonlythingthatmakessense.Iturnaroundandpoundonthedoor.
“Hello?”
Ipressmyearagainstthedoorandlistenforanoise.Icanhearthesofthummingofsomething.Agenerator?Anairconditioner?It’ssomekindofmachinery.Igetchills.
IrunforthebedandfoldmyselfintothecornersoIcanseethedoor.Ipullmykneesuptomychest,breathinghard.I’mscared,butthere’snothingIcandobutwait.18
Silas
ThestrapofmybackpackdigsintomyshoulderasIpushmyselfthroughtheswarmofstudentsinthehallway.IpretendIknowwhatI’mdoing—whereI’mgoing—butIknownothing.AsfarasI’mconcerned,thisisthefirsttimeI’veeversteppedfootinthisschool.ThefirsttimeI’mseeingthesepeople’sfaces.Theysmileatme,bobtheirheadsingreeting.IreciprocatethebestIcan.
Iglanceupatthenumbersonthelockers,navigatingmywaythroughthehallsuntilIfindmine.AccordingtoeverythingIwrote,Iwasherejustthismorning,searchingthroughthislocker,hoursago.Iobviouslydidn’tfindanythingthen,soI’msureIwon’tfindanythingnow.
WhenI’mfinallyfacingmylocker,IfeelthehopethatIdidn’tevenknowIhadevaporate.IguessapartofmewashopingIwouldfindCharliestandingthere,laughingatthisgeniusprankshepulledoff.Iwashopefulthatthismesswouldbeoverwith.
I’mnotthatlucky,obviously.
IenterthecombinationonCharlie’slockerfirstandopenitinanattempttofindsomethingwemissedearlier.AsI’mdiggingthroughherlocker,Icanfeelsomeoneapproachmefrombehind.Idon’twanttoturnaroundandhavetointeractwithanunfamiliarface,soIpretendIdon’tnoticethey’restandinghereinhopesthatthey’llwalkaway.
“Whatareyoulookingfor?”
It’sagirl’svoice.SinceIhavenoideawhatCharliesoundslike,Iturnaround,hopingit’sher.Instead,Ifindsomeonewhoisn’tCharliestaringbackatme.Basedonherlooks,IassumethisisAnnika.ShefitsthedescriptionCharliewroteofourfriendsinthenotes.
Bigeyes,darkcurlyhair,looksatyoulikeshe’sbored.
“I’mjustlookingforsomething,”Imutter,turningbacktofaceCharlie’slocker.Ifindnoclueswhatsoever,soIclosethelockerandbegintoenterthecombinationonmyownlock.
“AmysaidCharliewasn’thomethismorningwhenshewenttopickherup.Janettedidn’tevenknowwhereshewas,”Annikasays.“Whereisshe?”
Ishrugandpullopenmylocker,tryingtomakeitinconspicuousthatI’mreadingthecombinationfromasheetofpaperinmyhand.“Idon’tknow.Stillhaven’theardfromher.”
AnnikastandssilentlybehindmeuntilI’mfinishedsearchingmyownlocker.Myphonebeginstoringinmypocket.Myfatheriscallingagain.
“Silas!”someoneyellsashepassesby.Ilookuptoseeareflectionofmyself,onlyyoungerandnotas…intenseLandon.“Dadwantsyoutocallhim!”heyells,walkingbackwardintheoppositedirection.
Iholdupmyphone,screenfacinghim,soheknowsI’malreadyaware.Heshakeshisheadwithalaughanddisappearsdownthehall.Iwanttotellhimtocomeback.IhavesomanyquestionsIwanttoaskhim,butIknowhowcrazyallofitwouldsound.
IpressabuttontoignorethecallandIslideitbackintomypocket.Annikaisstillstandinghere,andIhavenoideahowtoshakeher.TheoldSilasseemedtohaveanissuewithcommitment,soI’mhopingAnnikawasn’toneofhisconquests.
Theoldmeissuremakingthingsdifficultforthecurrentme.
RightwhenIbegintotellherIneedtogettomylastperiodclass,IcatchsightofagirloverAnnika’sshoulder.Myeyeslockwithhers,andshequicklylooksintheotherdirection.IcantellbythewaysheslinksawaythatshemustbethegirlCharliereferredtoasTheShrimpinournotes.Becauseshereallydoeskindofresembleashrimp:pinkishskin,lighthair,anddark,beadyeyes.
“Hey!”Iyell.
Shekeepsmovingintheotherdirection.
IpushpastAnnikaandrushafterthegirl.Iyell,“Hey,”again,butshejustpicksupherpaceandtucksintoherselfevenmore,neverturningaround.Ishouldknowhername.She’dprobablystopifIjustcalledouthername.I’msureifIyelledHey,Shrimp!thatwouldn’twinmeanyfavors.
Whatanickname.Teenagerscanbesocruel.I’membarrassedtobeoneofthem.
Rightbeforeherhandreachesthedoorknobofaclassroom,Islideinfrontofher,mybackagainstthedoor.Shetakesaquickstepback,surprisedtoseemedirectingmyattentionather.Shehugsherbookstoherchestandglancesaround,butwe’vereachedtheendofthehallwayandtherearen’tanystudentsaroundus.
“What…whatdoyouwant?”sheasks,hervoiceascatteredwhisper.
“HaveyouseenCharlie?”ThequestionseemstosurprisehermorethanthefactthatI’mtalkingtoher.Sheimmediatelydistancesherselffrommewithanotherstep.
“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasksagain.“She’snotlookingforme,isshe?”
Hervoicesoundsfearful.WhywouldshebeafraidofCharlie?
“Listen,”Isay,glancingdownthehallwaytoensureourprivacy.Ilookbackatherandcantellshe’sholdingherbreath.“Ineedafavor,butIdon’twanttotalkaboutithere.Canyoumeetmeafterschool?”
Againwiththesurprisedexpression.Sheimmediatelyshakesherheadno.HerhesitancetowanttohaveanythingtodowithCharlieormepiquesmyinterest.Sheeitherknowssomethingandshe’shidingit,orsheknowssomethingthatshehasnoideacouldhelpme.
“Justforafewminutes?”Iask.Sheshakesherheadagainwhensomeonebeginswalkinginourdirection.Icuttheconversationshortanddon’tgiveherachancetosaynoagain.“Meetmeatmylockerafterclass.Ihaveacoupleofquestions,”Isaybeforewalkingaway.
Idon’tlookbackather.IheaddownthehallwaybuthavenoideawhereI’mactuallygoing.Ishouldprobablygototheathleticdepartmentandfindmylockerthere.AccordingtowhatIreadinournotes,there’saletterIhaven’treadyetinthelockerroom,alongwithsomepictures.
Iroundthecornerinahurryandbumpintoagirl,causinghertodropherpurse.Imutteranapologyandsteparoundher,continuingdownthehallway.
“Silas!”sheyells.Ipause.
Crap.Ihavenoideawhosheis.
Islowlyturnonmyheelsandshe’sstandingupright,pullingherpursestraphigheruponhershoulder.Iwaitforhertosaysomethingelse,butshejuststaresatme.Afterafewseconds,shethrowsherpalmsupintheair.“Well?”shesays,frustrated.
Itiltmyheadinconfusion.Issheexpectinganapology?“Well…what?”
Shehuffsandfoldsherarmsoverherchest.“Didyoufindmysister?”Janette.ThisisCharlie’ssister,Janette.Crap.
Icanimagineit’shardenoughsearchingforamissingperson,buttryingtosearchforthemwhenyouhavenoideawhoyouare,whotheyare,orwhoanyoneelseiskindoffeelslikeshootingfortheimpossible.
“Notyet,”Itellher.“Stilllooking.You?”
Shetakesasteptowardmeandtucksherchinin.“Don’tyouthinkifIfoundherIwouldn’thaveaskedyouifyoufoundher?”
Itakeastepback,puttingasafedistancebetweenthatglareandme.
Okay.SoJanetteisnotaverypleasantperson.Ishouldwritethatinthenotesforfuturereference.
Shepullsaphonefromherpurse.“I’mcallingthepolice,”shesays.“I’mreallyworriedabouther.”
“Ialreadyspoketothepolice.”
Shedartshereyesuptomine.“When?Whatdidtheysay?”
“Iwasatyourhouse.YourmothercalledthepolicewhenshefoundmeintheatticlookingforCharlie.Itoldtheofficershe’sbeenmissingsincelastnight,butyourmothermadeitsoundlikeIwasoverreacting,sotheydidn’ttakeitseriously.”
Janettegroans.“Figures,”shesays.“Well,I’mcallingthemagain.Ineedtogooutsidetogetabettersignal.I’llletyouknowwhattheysay.”Shestepsaroundmetoheadoutside.
Onceshe’sgone,IheadinthedirectionofwhereIthinktheathleticbuildingmightbe.
“Silas,”someonesaysfrombehindme.
Areyoukiddingme?CanInotmakeitfivefeetinthishallwaywithouthavingtoanswertosomeone?
Iturntofacewhoeveriswastingmytime,onlytofindagirl—orwoman,rather—whoperfectlymatchesthedescriptionofAvrilAshley.
ThisisexactlywhatIdon’tneedrightnow.“CanIseeyouinmyoffice,please?”
Isqueezethebackofmyneckandshakemyhead.“Ican’t,Avril.”
Sherevealsnothingofwhatisgoingthroughherhead.Shestaresatmewithastoicexpressionandthensays,“Myoffice.Now.”Sheturnsonherheelandheadsdownthehall.
Icontemplaterunningintheotherdirection,butdrawingattentiontomyselfwon’tdomeanyfavors.Ireluctantlyfollowheruntilshereachesthedoortoadministration.Ifollowherpastthesecretaryandintoanoffice.Istepasideassheclosesthedoor,butIdon’tsit.I’mwatchinghercarefully,andshestillhasn’tlookedbackatme.
Shemakesherwaytothewindowandstaresoutside,wrappingherarmsaroundherself.Thesilenceisawkwardatbest.
“DoyouwanttoexplainwhathappenedFridaynight?”sheasks.
Iimmediatelybeginsearchingmyinfantmemoryforwhatshecouldbetalkingabout.
Friday,Friday,Friday.
Withoutmynotesinfrontofme,Icomeupempty.There’snowayIcanremembereverydetailofwhatI’vereadinthepasttwohours.
WhenIfailtorespond,sheletsoutasoftlaugh.“Youareunreal,”shesays,turningtofacemenow.Hereyesarered,butsofarthey’redry.“Whatintheworldpossessedyoutopunchmyfather?”
Oh.Thediner.Thefightwiththeowner,Brian’sfather.
Wait.
Istandupstraighter,thehairspricklingupacrosstheskinofmyneck.AvrilAshleyisBrianFinley’ssister?Howisthatevenpossible?AndwhywouldCharlieandIbeinvolvedwiththem?
“Didithavetodowithher?”sheasks.
She’sthrowingtoomuchatmeatonce.Igripthebackofmyneckwithmyhandsagainandsqueezeawaysomeofthenerves.Shedoesn’tseemtocarethatI’mnotinthemoodtodiscussthisrightnow.Shetakesseveralquickstepstowardmeuntilherfingerispokingmeinthechest.
“Myfatherwasofferingherajob,youknow.Idon’tknowwhatyou’reupto,Silas.”Shespinsandwalksbacktothewindowbutthenthrowsherhandsupinfrustrationandfacesme.“First,youwaltzinherethreeweeksagoandactlikeCharlieisdestroyingyourlifebecauseofherinvolvementwithBrian.Youmakemefeelsorryforyou.Youevenmakemefeelguiltyjustforbeinghissister.Andthenyouusethattomanipulatemeintokissingyou,andonceIfinallycave,youshowupeverysingledayformore.Thenyougotomyfather’srestaurantandattackhim,thenfollowthatupbybreakingthingsoffwithme.”Shetakesastepbackandputsherhandagainstherforehead.“DoyourealizehowmuchtroubleIcouldbein,Silas?”Shebeginspacingbackandforth.“Ilikedyou.Iriskedmyjobforyou.Hell,Iriskedmyrelationshipwithmyownbrotherforyou.”Shestaresupattheceiling,placingherhandsonherhips.“I’manidiot,”shesays.“I’mmarried.I’mamarriedwomanwithadegree,andhereIammessingaroundwithastudentsimplybecausehe’sattractiveandI’mtoodamnfoolishtoknowwhensomeoneisusingme.”
Informationoverload.Ican’tevenrespondaseverythingshejustsaidsinksin
“Ifyoutellanyoneaboutthis,I’llmakesuremyfatherpresseschargesagainstyou,”shesayswithathreateningglare.
Ifindmytonguewiththatcomment.“I’llnevertellanyone,Avril.Youknowthat.”
Doessheknowthat?Theoldmedidn’tseemtobeverytrustworthy.
Shekeepshereyeslockedwithmineforseveralmomentsuntilsheseemssatisfiedwithmyresponse.“Leave.Andifyouneedacounselorfortherestoftheschoolyear,dousbothafavorandtransferschools.”
Iputmyhandonthedoorknobandwaitforhertosaysomethingelse.Whenshedoesn’t,ItryandmakeupfortheoldSilas.“Forwhatit’sworth…I’msorry.”
Herlipspressintoatightline.Shespinsandwalksangrilytoherdesk.“Getthehelloutofmyoffice,Silas.”
Gladly.19
Charlie
Imusthavedriftedoff.Ihearasoftbeepandthenthesoundofmetalslidingagainstmetal.MyeyessnapopenandinstinctuallyIpressmyselfharderagainstthewall.Ican’tbelieveIfellasleep.Theyhadtohavedruggedme.
They.I’mabouttofindoutwhotheyare.
ThedooropensandmybreathinggetsfasterasIsquirmagainstthewall.Afoot,plainwhitetennisshoes,andthen…thesmilingfaceofawoman.Shecomesinhumming,kickingthedoorclosedbehindher.Irelaxalittle.Shelookslikeanurse,dressedinpaleyellowscrubs.Herhairisdarkandpulledbackinalowponytail.She’solder,maybeinherforties.ForabriefsecondIwonderhowoldIam.Myhandtravelsuptomyface,asifIcouldfeelmyageonmyskin.
“Hello,”shesayscheerfully.Shehasn’tlookedatmeyet.She’sbusyingherselfwiththetrayoffood.
Iwrapmyarmstighteraroundmyknees.Shesetsatraydownonalittletablenexttothebedandglancesupforthefirsttime.
“Ibroughtyourlunch.Areyouhungry?”
Lunch?Iwonderwhathappenedtobreakfast.
WhenIstilldon’tanswer,shesmilesandliftsthelidoffoneoftheplatesasiftotemptme.
“It’sspaghettitoday,”shesays.“Youlikespaghetti.”
Today?Like,howmanydayshaveIbeenhere?Iwanttoaskher,butmytongueisfrozeninfear.
“You’reconfused.That’sokay.You’resafehere,”shesays.Funny,Idon’tfeelsafe.
Sheoffersmeapapercup.Istareatit.
“Youhavetotakeyourmeds,”shesays,shakingthecup.Icanheartherattlingofmorethanonepillinside.Iambeingdrugged.
“What’sitfor?”Istartleatthesoundofmyvoice.Raspy.Ihaven’tuseditinawhile,orI’vebeenscreamingalot.
Shesmilesagain.“Theusual,silly.”Shefrownsdownatme,suddenlyserious.“Weknowwhathappenswhenyoudon’ttakeyourmedication,Sammy.Youdon’twanttogodownthatpathagain.”
Sammy!
IwanttocrybecauseIhaveaname!Ireachforthecup.Idon’tknowwhatshemeans,butIdon’twanttogodownthatpathagain.ThatpathisprobablywhyI’mhere.
“WhereamI?”Iask.Therearethreepills:onewhite,oneblue,onebrown.
Shecocksherheadtothesideasshehandsmeaplasticcupofwater.“You’reintheSaintBartholomewhospital.Don’tyouremember?”
Istareather.AmIsupposedto?IfIaskherquestions,shemaythinkI’mcrazy,andbythelooksofthings,Imayalreadybecrazy.Idon’twanttomakethingsworse,but—Shesighs.“Look,I’mtryingreallyhardwithyou,kid.Butyouhavetodobetterthistime.Wecan’thaveanymoreincidents.”
I’makid.Icauseincidents.ThatmustbewhyI’mlockeduphere.
Itiltthecup’tilIfeelthepillsonmytongue.ShehandsmethewaterandIdrinkit.I’mthirsty.
“Eatup,”shesays,clappingherhandstogether.Ipullthetraytowardme.Iamveryhungry.
“Wouldyouliketowatchsometelevision?”
Inod.She’sreallynice.AndIwouldliketowatchtelevision.Shepullsaremotecontroloutofherpocketandswitchesiton.Theshowisaboutafamily.Theyareallsittingaroundatablehavingdinner.Whereismyfamily?
I’mstartingtofeelsleepyagain.20
Silas
It’samazinghowmuchIcanlearnjustbykeepingmymouthshut.AvrilandBrianarebrotherandsister.
Avrilismarried,yetIsomehowstilltalkedherintosomesortofjacked-uprelationship.Andit’sfairlynew,whichIdidn’texpect.ItalsoseemsoddthatIwouldhavegonetoherforcomfort,knowingCharlieandBrianweretogether.
BasedonwhatI’velearnedofSilas—ormyself—Idon’tseemewantingtobewithanyonebutCharlie.
Revenge?MaybeIwasjustusingAvriltogetinformationonCharlieandBrian.
IspendthenexttenminutescontemplatingwhatI’velearnedasImakemywayaroundthecampusinsearchoftheathleticdepartment.Everythinglooksthesame:faces,buildings,stupidmotivationalposters.Ifinallygiveupandduckintoanemptyclassroom.Itakeaseatatatablealongthebackwallandunzipthebackpackfilledwithmypast.Ipulloutthejournalsandafewletters,organizingthembydate.ThemajorityofthelettersarebetweenCharlieandmyself,butsomeofthemarefromherfather,writtentoherfromprison.Thismakesmesad.Thereareafewfromrandompeople—friendsofhers,I’massuming.Theirnotestoherannoyme,filledwithshallowteenageangstandbadspelling.Itossthemaside,frustrated.Ihaveafeelingwhateverisgoingonwithushaslittletodowithanyoneelse.
IgraboneofthelettersCharlie’sfatherwrotetoherandreaditfirst.
DearPeanut,YourememberwhyIcallyouthat,right?Youweresosmallwhenyouwereborn.I’dneverheldababybeforeyou,andIremembersayingtoMom,“She’stiny,justlikealittlehumanpeanut!”
Imissyou,babygirl.Iknowthismustbehardforyou.Bestrongforyoursisterandyourmom.They’renotlikeus,andthey’llneedyoutofigurethingsoutforthemforawhile.UntilIcomehome.Trustme,I’mworkinghardtogethometoyouguys.Inthemeantime,I’vebeendoingalotofreading.Ievenreadthatbookyoulikedsomuch.Theonewiththeappleonthecover.Wow!ThatEdwardis…howdidyouputit…dreamy?
Anyway,Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutsomethingimportant.Sopleaselistentome.Iknowyou’veknownSilasforaverylongtime.He’sagoodboy.Idon’tblamehimforwhathisfatherdid.Butyouhavetostayawayfromthatfamily,Charlize.Idon’ttrustthem.IwishIcouldexplaineverything,andIwilloneday.Butplease,stayawayfromtheNashes.Silasisjustapawninhisfather’sgame.I’mafraidthey’lluseyoutogettome.Promiseme,Charlize,thatyou’llstayawayfromthem.ItoldMomtousethemoneyintheotheraccounttogetbyforawhile.Ifyouhaveto,sellherrings.Shewon’twantto,butdoitanyway.
Iloveyou,
Dad
IreadthelettertwicetomakesureIdon’tmissanything.Whateverhappenedbetweenmyfatherandherfatherwasserious.Themanisinprison,andfromreadingtheletter,hedoesn’tthinkhissentenceisjustified.Itmakesmewonderifmyfatherisreallytoblame.
Iplacetheletterinanewpiletokeepitseparate.IfIkeepallthelettersthatcouldmeansomethingintheirownpile,thenifweloseourmemoriesagain,wewon’thavetowastetimereadinglettersthatservenopurpose.
Iopenupanotherletterthatlookslikeit’sbeenreadahundredtimes.
DearCharliebaby,Yougetreallyangrywhenyou’rehungry.Yougethangry.It’slikeyou’renoteventhesameperson.Canwekeepgranolabarsinyourpurseorsomething?It’sjustthatIworryaboutmyballs.TheguysarestartingtosayI’mwhipped.AndIknowwhatitlookslike.Iranlikeayoungbucktogetyouabucketofchickenyesterdayandmissedthebestpartofthegame.Imissedseeingthegreatestcomebackinthehistoryoffootball.AllbecauseI’mscared—soinlovewithyou.MaybeIamwhipped.Youlookedreallysexywithallthatchickengreaseonyourface.Rippingthemeatawaywithyourteethlikeasavage.God.Ijustwanttomarryyou.
NeverNever,
Silas
Icanfeelasmilebegintoformonmyface,andIimmediatelyshakeitaway.Thefactthatthisgirlissomewhereoutthereandhasnoideawhoorwheresheisleavesnoroomforsmiles.Igrabanotherletter,thistimewantingtoreadsomethingfromhertome.
DearSilasbaby,Best.Concert.Ever.YoumaybecuterthanHarryStyles,especiallywhenyoudothatshouldermoveandpretendyou’resmokingacigar.Thankyouforlockingusinabroomclosetandthenkeepingyourpromise.IREALLYlikedthebroomcloset.Ihopewecanreplicateitinourhouseoneday.Justgointhereandmakeoutwhilethekidsnap.Exceptwithsnacks,because…hangry.Speakingoffood,IhavetogobecausethekidsI’mbabysittingaredumpingajarofpicklesdownthetoilet.Oops!Maybeweshouldjusthaveadog.
NeverNever,
Charlie
Ilikeher.Ievenkindoflikemyselfwithher.
Adullachebeginstomakeitswayacrossmychest.Irubitwhilestaringatherhandwriting.It’sfamiliar.
It’ssadness.Irememberwhatitfeelsliketobesad.
Ireadanotherletterfrommetoher,hopingtogainmoreinsightintomypersonality.
Charliebaby,ImissedyoutodaymorethanI’veevermissedyou.Itwasahardday.It’sbeenahardsummer,actually.Theupcomingtrialcoupledwithnotbeingallowedtoseeyouhasofficiallymadethistheworstyearofmylife.
Andtothinkitstartedoutsogood.
RememberthatnightIsnuckinyourwindow?Irememberitvividly,butthatmightbebecauseIstillhaveitonvideoandIwatchiteverysinglenight.ButIknowthatwhetherornotIhaditonvideoatall,I’dstillremembereverydetailofit.Itwasthefirsttimeweeverspentthenighttogetherasacouple,eventhoughIwasn’tactuallysupposedtobespendingthenight.
Butwakingupandseeingthesunshiningthroughthewindowandacrossyourfacemadeitfeellikeadream.LikethisgirlIhadbeenholdinginmyarmsforthepastsixhourswasn’treal.Becauselifecouldn’tpossiblyfeelasperfectandascarefreeasitdidinthatmoment.
IknowyousometimesgivemeahardtimeabouthowmuchIlovedthatnight,butIthinkit’sbecauseIneverreallytoldyouwhy.
Afteryoufellasleep,Imovedthevideocameraclosertous.IwrappedmyarmsaroundyouandlistenedtoyoubreatheuntilIfellasleep.
SometimeswhenIhavetroublesleeping,I’llplaythatvideo.
Iknowthat’sweird,butthat’swhatyouloveaboutme.YoulovehowmuchIloveyou.Becauseyes.Iloveyouwaytoomuch.Morethananyonedeservestobeloved.ButIcan’thelpit.Youmakenormallovehard.Youmakemepsycho-loveyou.
Oneofthesedaysallofthismesswillpass.Ourfamilieswillforgethowmuchthey’vehurteachother.They’llseethebondwecontinuetohaveandthey’llbeforcedtoacceptit.
Untilthen,neverlosehope.Neverstoplovingme.Neverforget.
NeverNever,
Silas
Isqueezemyeyesshutandreleaseaslowbreath.Howisitpossibletomisssomeoneyoucan’tremember?
IsetthelettersasideandbegintosiftthroughCharlie’sjournals.Ineedtofindtheonessurroundingtheeventswithourfathers.Itseemstohavebeenthecatalystinourrelationship.Igraboneandopenituptoarandompage.
IhateAnnika.Ohmygod,she’ssostupid.
Ifliptoadifferentpage.IkindofhateAnnikatoo,butthat’snotimportantrightnow.
Silasbakedmeacakeformybirthday.Itwasawful.Ithinkheforgottheeggs.ButitwasthemostbeautifulchocolatefailureI’veeverseen.IwassohappythatIdidn’tevenmakeagagfacewhenIateaslice.But,ohgod,itwassobad.Bestboyfriendever.
Iwanttokeepreadingthatone,butIdon’t.Whattypeofidiotforgetstheeggs?Iflipafewpagesforward.
Theytookmydadtoday.Isitupstraighter.
Theytookmydadtoday.Idon’tfeelanything.Willthefeelingscome?OrmaybeIfeeleverything.AllIcandoissithereandstareatthewall.Ifeelsohelpless,likeIshouldbedoingsomething.Everythinghaschanged,andmychesthurts.Silaskeepscomingtothehouse,butIdon’twanttoseehim.Idon’twanttoseeanyone.It’snotfair.Whyhavekidsifyou’rejustgoingtodostupidshitandleavethem?Dadsaysit’sallamisunderstandingandthatthetruthwillcomeout,butMomhasn’tstoppedcrying.Andwecan’tuseanyofourcreditcards,becauseeverythinghasbeenfrozen.Thephonewon’tstopringing,andJanetteissittingonherbed,suckingherthumblikewhenshewaslittle.Ijustwanttodie.Ihatewhoeverdidthistomyfamily.Ican’teven—
Iflipafewpagesforward.
Wehavetomoveoutofourhouse.Dad’slawyertoldustoday.Thecourtisseizingittopayoffhisdebt.IonlyknowthisbecauseIwaslisteningoutsideoftheofficedoorwhenhetoldMom.Assoonasheleft,shelockedherselfinherbedroomandhasn’tcomeoutintwodays.Wehavetobeoutofourhouseinfive.Istartedpackingsomeofourstuff,butI’mnotevensurewhatwe’reallowedtokeep.Orwherewearesupposedtogo.Myhairstartedfallingoutaboutaweekago.InbigchunkswhenIbrushitandwhenI’mintheshower.Andyesterday,Janettegotintroubleatschoolforscratchingagirlonthefacewhenshemadefunofthefactourdadisinprison.
Ihaveacouplethousanddollarsinmysavingsaccount,butseriously,whoisgoingtorentmeanapartment?Idon’tknowwhattodo.Istillhaven’tseenSilas,buthecomeseveryday.ImakeJanettetellhimtogoaway.I’msoembarrassed.Everyoneistalkingaboutus,evenmyfriends.Annikaaccidentallyincludedmeinagrouptextwheretheyweresendingeachotherprisonmemes.Cometothinkofit,Idon’tthinkitwasanaccident.She’dlovetogetherclawsintoSilas.Now’sherchance.Assoonasherealizeswhatanembarrassmentmyfamilyhasbecome,hewon’twantanythingtodowithme.
Ugh.WasthatthetypeofpersonIwas?Whydidshethinkthat?Iwouldnever…Idon’tthinkIwouldever…
WouldI…?Iclosethejournalandrubmyforehead.I’mgettingaheadache,andIdon’tfeelanyclosertofiguringthisout.Idecidetoreadonemorepage.
Imissmyhouse.It’snotmyhouseanymore,socanIstillsaythat?Imisswhatusedtobemyhouse.SometimesIgothere,juststandacrossthestreet,andremember.Idon’tevenknowiflifewassogreatpreDadinprison,orifIwasjustlivinginaluxuriousbubble.AtleastIdidn’tfeellikethis.Likesomeloser.AllMomdoesisdrink.Shedoesn’tevencareaboutusanymore.Andyouhavetowonderifsheeverdid,orifwewerejustfixturesinherglamorouslife,Janetteandme.Becausesheonlycaresaboutthewayshefeelsnow.
IfeelbadforJanette.Iatleasthadareallife,withrealparents.She’sstilllittle.It’sgoingtomessherupbecauseshe’snotevengoingtoknowwhatit’sliketohaveawholefamily.She’ssomadallthetime.Iamtoo.YesterdayImadefunofthiskiduntilhecried.Itfeltgood.Itfeltbadtoo.ButlikeDaddysaid,aslongasI’mmeanerthantheyare,theycan’ttouchme.I’lljustbeatthemdownuntiltheyleavemealone.
IsawSilasforalittlebitafterschool.Hetookmeforaburgerandthendrovemehome.Itwasthefirsttimehe’dseentheshitpitwe’relivinginnow.Icouldseetheshockonhisface.Hedroppedmeoff,andthenanhourlaterIheardamoweroutside.Hewenthomeandpickedupamowerandsometoolstofixtheplaceup.Iwantedtolovehimforit,butitjustembarrassedme.
Hepretendshedoesn’tcareabouthowmuchmylifehaschanged,butIknowhedoes.Hehasto.I’mnotwhatIusedtobe.
Mydadhasbeenwritingtome.He’ssaidsomethings,butIdon’tknowwhattobelieveanymore.Ifhe’sright…Idon’tevenwanttothinkaboutit.
Ilookthroughthelettersfromherfather.Whichoneisshetalkingabout?ThenIseeit.Mystomachchurns.
DearCharlize,Ispoketoyourmotheryesterday.ShesaidyouwerestillseeingSilas.I’mdisappointed.Iwarnedyouabouthisfamily.HisfatheristhereasonI’minprison,yetyoucontinuetolovehim.Doyourealizehowmuchthathurtsme?
Iknowyouthinkyouknowhim,buthe’snodifferentfromhisfather.They’reafamilyofsnakes.Charlize,pleaseunderstandthatI’mnottryingtohurtyou.Iwanttokeepyousafefromthosepeople,andhereIam,lockedupbehindthesebars,unabletotakecareofmyownfamily.AwarningisreallyallIcangiveyou,andIhopethatyouheedmywords.
Welosteverything—ourhouse,ourreputation,ourfamily.Andtheystillhaveeverythingthatwastheirsaswellaseverythingthatwasours.It’snotright.Please,stayawayfromthem.Lookwhattheydidtome.Toallofus.
PleasetellyoursisterthatIloveher.
Dad
IfeelsympathyforCharlieafterreadingtheletter.Agirltornbetweenaboywhoobviouslylovedherandafatherwhomanipulatedher.
Ineedtovisitherfather.Ifindapenandwritedownthereturnaddressfromthelettershe’ssenttoher.IpulloutmyphoneandGoogleit.Theprisonisagoodtwo-and-a-half-hourdrivefromNewOrleans.
TwoandahalfhoursonewayisalotofwastedtimewhenIonlyhaveforty-eighthourstotal.AnditfeelslikeI’vealreadywastedalotofthat.ImakeanoteofvisitinghoursanddecideifIhaven’tfoundCharliebytomorrowmorning,I’llbepayingherfatheravisit.BasedonthelettersIjustread,Charlieisclosertoherfatherthananyone.Well,besidestheoldSilas.AndifIdon’thaveacluewheresheis,herfatherisprobablyoneofthefewwhomight.Iwonderifhewouldevenagreetomeetwithme.
Iflinchinmyseatwhenthefinalbellrings,signalingtheendofschool.Ikeepthelettersseparatedandputthemallneatlyinsidethebackpack.It’sthelastclassperiod,andI’mhopingTheShrimpwillbewhereIaskedhertobe.21
Charlie
I’mlockedinaroomwithaboy.Theroomistinyanditsmellslikebleach.TiniereventhantheroomIwasinbeforeIfellasleep.Idon’trememberwakingupandbeingmoved,buthereIam,andlet’sbehonest—Idon’trememberawholelotlately.He’ssittingonthefloorwithhisbackagainstthewall,andhiskneesspreadapart.Iwatchashetiltshisheadbackandbeltsoutthechorusto“OhCecelia.”
He’sprettyhot.
“Oh,myGod,”Isay.“Ifwe’regoingtobelockedinhere,canyouatleastsingsomethinggood?”
Idon’tknowwherethatcamefrom.Idon’tevenknowthisboy.Hefinishes,punctuatingthelastwordwithareallyoff-keyeh-eh-eh-eh.It’sthenthatIrealizethatInotonlyrecognizethesonghe’ssingingbutalsoknowthelyrics.Thingschange,andsuddenlyI’mnotthegirlanymore.I’mwatchingthegirlwatchtheboy.
I’mdreaming.
“I’mhungry,”shesays.
Heliftshishipsoffthegroundanddigsaroundinhispocket.Whenhepullsouthishand,he’sholdingaLifeSaver.
“You’resuchalifesaver,”shesays,takingitfromhim.Shekickshisfoot,andhegrinsather.
“Howcomeyou’renotmadatme?”heasks.
“Forwhat?Ruiningournightbymakingusmisstheconcertsoyoucouldmakeoutwithmeinabroomcloset?WhythehellwouldIbemad?”Shemakesashowofslippingthemintbetweenherlips.“Doyouthinkthey’llhearusinherewhentheconcert’sover?”
“Ihopeso.Oryou’llgetreallyhangryandbemeantomeallnight.”
Shelaughs,andthenthey’rebothsmilingateachotherlikeidiots.Icanhearthemusicplaying.It’ssomethingslowerthistime.Theygotlockedinheremakingout.Verycute.Ifeelenvious.
Shecrawlsovertohim,andhelowershislegstoaccommodateher.Whenshe’sstraddlinghim,herunshishandsupanddownherback.She’swearingapurpledressandblackboots.Acoupleofgrimymopsandagiantyellowbucketareproppednexttothem.
“Ipromisethiswon’thappenwhenweseeOneDirection,”hesaysseriously.
“YouhateOneDirection.”
“Yeah,butIguessIhavetomakethisuptoyou.Beagoodboyfriendandsuch.”Hishandsteasetheexposedskinonherlegs.Hemakesawalkingmotionupherthighwithhisfingers.Icanalmostfeelthegoosebumpsforher.
ShethrowsbackherheadthistimeandstartstosingaOneDirectionsong.Itclasheswiththemusicplayingbehindthem,andshe’saworsesingerthanheis.
“Oh,God,”hesays,coveringhermouth.“Iloveyou,butno.”Hepullshishandaway,andshegrabsitbacktokisshispalm.
“Yeahyoudo.Iloveyouback.”
It’swhentheykissthatIwakeup.Ifeelintensedisappointment.Ilieverystill,hopingtofallasleepagainsoIcanseewhathappenstothem.IneedtoknowiftheygotoutintimetoseeTheVampsplayatleastonesong.OrifhekepthiswordandtookhertoOneDirection.TheirtogethernesshasmademefeelsoincrediblylonelythatIburymyfaceinthepillowandcry.Ilikedtheirstuffylittleroombetterthanmine.Ibegintohumoutthetuneofthesongthatwasplaying,andthenIsuddenlyboltuprightinbed.
Theydidgetout.Duringintermission.Icanhearhislaughterandseetheconfusiononthefaceofthejanitorwhoopenedthedoorforthem.HowdoIknowthat?HowcanIseesomethingthatneverhappened?Unless…
Thatwasn’tadream.Ithappened.Tome.
Oh,myGod.Thatgirlwasme.
Ireachuptotouchmyface,smilingalittle.Helovedme.Hewasso…fulloflife.Iliebackdown,wonderingwhathappenedtohimandifhe’sthereasonI’mhere.Whyhasn’thecometofindme?Canapersonforgetthatkindoflove?
Andhowexactlydidmylifegofromthat…tothisnightmare?22
Silas
Schoolhasbeenoutforoverfifteenminutes.Thehallwayisempty,yethereIstand,stillwaitingforTheShrimptoshowup.I’mnotsurewhatIwouldevenaskherifshedidshowup.IjustgotafeelingwhenIsawher,afeelingthatshewashidingsomething.Maybeit’ssomethingshedoesn’tevenrealizeshe’shiding,butIwanttofindoutwhatsheknows.WhyshehatesCharliesomuch.Whyshehatesmesomuch.
Myphonerings.Myfatheragain.Ipressignore,butthenseethatI’vesomehowmissedafewtexts.Iopenthem,butnonearefromCharlie.Notthattheycouldbe,sinceIhaveherphone.I’vesimplyacceptedthefactthatIstillhavealittlebitofhopethatthisisallajoke.Thatshe’lleithercallortextorshowuptolaughaboutit.
ThemostrecenttextisfromLandon.
Getyourasstopractice.I’mnotcoveringforyouagain,andwehaveagameinthreehours.
Ihavenoideawhatmovewillbethemostefficientuseofmytime.Surelypracticewon’tbe,consideringIcouldn’tcarelessaboutfootballrightnow.ButifpracticeiswhereInormallyamatthishour,IshouldprobablybethereincaseCharlieshowsup.Afterall,everyoneseemstothinkshe’llbeatthegametonight.AndsinceIdon’tknowwhereelsetolookorwhatelsetodo,IguessI’lllookforherthere.Doesn’tlooklikeTheShrimpagreedtomyrequest,anyway.
Ifinallylocatethelockerrooms,andI’mrelievedtofindthemempty.Everyoneelseisoutonthefield,soIusetheprivacytosearchfortheboxIwroteaboutintheletterstomyself.WhenIlocateitatthetopofthelocker,Ipullitdownandtakeaseatonthebench,liftingthelid.
Iflipquicklythroughthepictures.Ourfirstkiss.Ourfirstfight.Wherewemet.Ifinallygettoaletteratthebottomofthebox.AcrossthetopisCharlie’sname,writteninthehandwritingI’vecometorecognizeasmyown.
IlookaroundtoensureIstillhavecompleteprivacy,andthenIunfoldtheletter.
It’sdatedlastweek.Justonedaybeforewelostourmemoriesforthefirsttime.
Charlie,Well,Iguessthisisit.Theendofus.TheendofCharlieandSilas.
Atleastitdidn’tcomeasasurprise.We’vebothknown,sincethedayyourfatherwassentenced,thatwewouldn’tbeabletomovepastthat.Youblamemyfather,Iblameyours.Theyblameeachother.Ourmothers,whousedtobebestfriends,won’tevenspeakeachother’snamesoutloud.
Buthey,atleastwetried,right?Wetriedhard,butwhentwofamiliesaretornapartlikeourswere,it’salittledifficulttolookaheadatthefuturewecouldpossiblyhaveandactuallybeexcitedaboutit.
Yesterday,whenyouapproachedmeaboutAvril,Ideniedit.Youacceptedmydenial,becauseyouknowIneverlietoyou.Somehow,you’vealwaysseemedtoknowwhat’sgoingoninmyheadbeforeIevendo,soyouneverquestionwhetherornotI’mtellingthetruth,becauseyoualreadyknow.
Andthat’swhatbothersme,becauseyousoeasilyacceptedmylie,whenIknowyouknowit’strue.AndthatleadsmetobelievethatIwasright.Youaren’tseeingBrianbecauseyoulikehim.Youaren’tseeinghimbehindmybacktogetrevengeonme.Theonlyreasonyou’rewithhimisbecauseyou’retryingtopunishyourself.Andyouacceptedmylie,becauseifyoubrokeupwithme,itwouldrelieveyouofyourguilt.
Youdon’twanttoberelievedofyourguilt.Yourguiltisyourwayofpunishingyourselfforyourrecentbehavior,andwithoutit,youwon’tbeabletotreatpeoplethewayyou’vebeentreatingthem.
Iknowthisaboutyou,becausemeandyou,Charlie?We’rethesame.Nomatterhowtoughyou’vebeentryingtoactlately,Iknowthatdeepdownyouhaveaheartthatbleedsinthepresenceofinjustice.Iknowthateverytimeyoulashoutatsomeone,itmakesyoucringeinside.Butyoudoitbecauseyouthinkyouhaveto.
Becauseyourfatherismanipulatingyouintobelievingthatifyou’revindictiveenough,peoplewon’ttouchyou.
Youtoldmeoncethattoomuchgoodinaperson’slifewillstunttheirgrowth.Yousaidpainisnecessary,becauseinorderforapersontosucceed,theymustfirstlearntoconqueradversity.Andthat’swhatyoudo…youdeliveradversitywhereyouseefit.Maybeyoudoittogainrespect.Tointimidate.Whateveryourreasons,Ican’tdothisanymore.Ican’twatchyoutearpeopledowninordertobuildyourselfup.
I’dratherloveyouatthebottomthandespiseyouatthetop.
Itdoesn’thavetobethisway,Charlie.You’reallowedtoloveme,despitewhatyourfathersays.You’reallowedtobehappy.Whatyoucan’tallowisfornegativitytochokeyouuntilwenolongerbreathethesameair.
IwantyoutostopseeingBrian.ButIalsowantyoutostopseeingme.Iwantyoutostoptryingtofindawaytofreeyourfather.Iwantyoutostopallowinghimtomisleadyou.IwantyoutostopresentingmeeverytimeIdefendmyownfather.
Youactonewayinfrontofeveryoneelse,butatnightwhenI’monthephonewithyou,IgettherealCharlie.It’sgoingtobeabsolutetorturenotdialingyournumberandhearingyourvoicebeforeIgotosleepeachnight,butIcan’tdothisanymore.Ican’tonlylovethatpartofyou—therealpartofyou.IwanttoloveyouwhenItalktoyouatnightandIalsowanttoloveyouwhenIseeyouduringtheday,butyou’rebeginningtoshowtwodifferentsidesofyourself.
AndIonlylikeoneofthosesides.
AsmuchasItry,Ican’tpossiblyimaginehowhurtyoumustbesinceyourfatherwentaway.Butyoucan’tletthatchangewhoyouare.Pleasestopcaringaboutwhatotherpeoplethink.Stopallowingyourfather’sactionstodefineyou.FigureoutwhatyoudidwiththeCharlieIfellinlovewith.Andwhenyoufindher,I’llbehere.ItoldyoubeforeI’llneverstoplovingyou.I’llneverforgetwhatwehave.
Butlately,itseemsthatyou’veforgotten.
I’veenclosedsomepicturesIwantyoutogothrough.Hopefullythey’llhelpremindyouofwhatwecouldhaveagainsomeday.Alovethatwasn’tdictatedbyourparentsordefinedbyourfamilystatus.Alovewecouldn’tstopifwetried.Alovethatgotusthroughsomeofthehardestmomentsofourlives.
Neverforget,Charlie.
Neverstop.
Silas23
Silas
“Silas,Coachwantsyousuitedupandonthefieldinfive.”
Isitupstraightatthesoundofthevoice.I’mnotatallsurprisedthatIdon’trecognizetheguystandinginthedoorwaytothelockerroom,butInodasifIdo.Ibeginshovingallthepicturesandtheletterfromtheboxintothebackpack,stowingitawayinmylocker.
Iwasgoingtobreakupwithher.
IwonderifIdidbreakupwithher.Istillhavetheletter,though.Itwaswrittenthedaybeforewelostourmemories.Ourrelationshipwasobviouslyonarapiddecline.MaybeIgavehertheboxandshereadtheletterandthengaveitbacktome?
EndlesspossibilitiesandtheoriesplaguemymindasIattempttoputonthefootballgear.IenduphavingtoGooglehowtodoitonmyphone.TenminuteshaveeasilypassedbythetimeI’mdressedandwalkingontothefield.Landonisthefirsttonoticeme.Hebreaksformationandjogsinmydirection.Heputshishandsonmyshouldersandleansin.
“I’mtiredofcoveringforyou.Getwhatevershitisscrewingupyourheadoutofthere.Youneedtofocus,Silas.Thisgameisimportant,andDadwillbepissedifyoublowit.”
Hereleasesmyshouldersandjogsbackontothefield.Theguysarealllinedup,doingwhatlookslikeawholelotofnothing.Someofthemarepassingfootballsbackandforth.Othersaresittinginthegrass,stretching.ItakeaseatinthegrassnexttowhereLandonhasjustploppeddown,andIbegintomockhismovements.
Ilikehim.Icanonlyrecalltwoconversationswe’vehadinourlife,andthey’vebothconsistedofLandonspittingsomesortofdirectionatme.IknowI’mtheolderbrother,butheseemstoactlikeItreathimwithrespect.Wehadtohavebeenclose.Icantellbythewayhe’slookingatmethathe’ssuspiciousofmybehavior.Heknowsmewellenoughtoknowsomethingisup.
Itrytousethistomyadvantage.Istretchmylegoutinfrontofmeandleanforward.“Ican’tfindCharlie,”Isaytohim.“I’mworriedabouther.”
Landonlaughsunderhisbreath.“Ishouldhaveknownthishadtodowithher.”Heswitcheslegsandfacesme.“Andwhatdoyoumeanyoucan’tfindher?Herphonewasinyourcarthismorning.Shecan’tverywellcallyoufromit.She’sprobablyathome.”
Ishakemyhead.“Noonehasheardfromhersincelastnight.Shenevermadeithome.Janettereportedhermissinganhourago.”
Hiseyesarelockedwithmine,andIseethemshifttoconcern.“Whatabouthermom?”
Ishakemyhead.“Youknowhowsheis.She’snohelp.”
Landonnods.“True,”hesays.“Damnshamewhatthishasturnedherinto.”
Hiswordsmakemecontemplate.Ifshehasn’talwaysbeenthisway,whatmadeherchange?Maybethesentencingdestroyedher.Ifeelasmallshredofsympathyforthewoman.MorethanIdidthismorning.
“Whatdidthepolicesay?Idoubtthey’llconsiderheramissingpersonifallshe’sdoneisskipschooltoday.Theyhavetohavemoreevidencethanthat.”
Thewordevidencestickswithmeasitfallsfromhismouth.
Ihaven’twantedtoadmitthistomyself,becauseIwanttofocusonfindingher,butdeepdownI’vebeenalittleconcernedhowthislooksforme.Ifshereallyismissingandshedoesn’tshowupsoon,Ihaveafeelingtheonlypersonthepolicewillbeinterestedinquestioningisthelastpersontoseeher.AndconsideringIhaveherwallet,herphone,andeveryletterandjournalentryshe’severwritten—thatdoesn’tbodewellforSilasNash.
Iftheyquestionme—howwillIknowwhattotellthem?Idon’trememberourlastwords.Idon’trememberwhatshewaswearing.Idon’tevenhaveavalidexcuseastowhyIhaveallofherbelongings.AnyanswerIgivethemwouldbealieonapolygraphbecauseIdon’trememberanyofit.
WhatifsomethinghappenedtoherandIreallyamresponsible?WhatifI’vesufferedsomekindofshock,andthat’swhyIcan’trememberanything?WhatifIhurtherandthisismymind’swayofconvincingmeIdidn’t?
“Silas?Areyouokay?”
MyeyesflickuptoLandon’s.Ihavetohidetheevidence.
Ipushmypalmsintothegroundandimmediatelystand.Iturnandruninthedirectionofthelockerrooms.
“Silas!”heyellsafterme.Ikeeprunning.IrununtilIreachthebuilding,andIpushopenthedoorsoharditslapsthewallbehindit.Irunstraighttomylockerandswingitopen.
Ireachinsidebutfeelnothing.
No.
Itouchthewalls,thefloorofthelocker;Iswipemyhandsaroundeveryemptyinchofit.
It’sgone.
Irunmyhandsthroughmyhairandspinaround,lookingallaroundthelockerroom,hopingmaybeIleftthebackpackonthefloor.IswingopenLandon’slockerandpulleverythingoutofit.It’snotinthere,either.Iopenthenextlockeranddothesame.Iopenthenext.Nothing.
Thebackpackisnowhere.
I’meithergoingcrazyorsomeonewasjustinhere.“Shit.Shit,shit,shit.”
Whenallofthecontentsfromtheentirerowoflockersareonthefloor,Imovetotheotherwalloflockersandbegindoingthesametothem.Ilookinsideotherpeople’sbackpacks.Iemptygymbags,watchingasgymclothestumbletothefloor.Ifindanythingandeverything,fromcellphonestocashtocondoms.
Butnoletters.Nojournals.Nophotographs.
“Nash!”
Ispinaroundtoseeamanfillingthedoorway,lookingatmelikehehasnoideawhoIamorwhat’sgottenintome.Thatmakestwoofus
“Whatinthehellareyoudoing?”
IlookaroundatthemessI’vemade.Itlookslikeatornadojustrippedthroughthelockerroom.
HowamIgoingtogetoutofthis?
I’vejustdestroyedeverysinglelockerinhere.AndwhatexplanationwouldIgivethem?I’mlookingforstolenevidencesothepolicewon’tarrestmeformygirlfriend’sdisappearance?
“Someone…”Isqueezethebackofmyneckagain.Thismustbeoneofmyoldticks—squeezingthestressoutofmyneck.“Someonestolemywallet,”Imutter
Thecoachlooksaroundthelockerroom,theangerneveronceleavinghisface.Hepointsatme.“Cleanthisup,Nash!Now!Andthengetyourasstomyoffice!”Hewalksaway,leavingmealone.
Iwastenotime.I’mrelievedIleftallmyclothesonthebenchandnotinmylockerwiththestuffthatwasstolen.Mykeysarestillinmypantspocket.AssoonasI’moutofmyfootballgearandbackintomyclothes,Iwalkoutthedoor,butIdon’tgointhedirectionoftheoffices.Iheadstraightfortheparkinglot.
Straightformycar.
IhavetofindCharlie.Tonight.
Otherwise,Icouldbesittingcompletelyhelplessinajailcell.24
Charlie
Ihearthelockopenagain,andIsitup.Thepillsthenursegavememakemefeeldrowsy.Idon’tknowhowlongIwasasleep,butitcouldn’thavebeenlongenoughtoalreadybetimeforanothermeal.However,shecomesincarryinganothertray.I’mnotevenhungry.IwonderifIfinishedmyspaghettiearlier.Ican’tevenremembereatingit.ImustbealotcrazierthanIthought.ButIdidhaveamemory.Idebatetellingher,butitfeelsprivate.SomethingIwanttokeepformyself.
“Dinnertime!”shesays,settingitdown.Sheliftsthelidtorevealaplateofriceandsausage.Ieyeitwarily,wonderingifI’mgoingtohavetotakemorepills.Asifreadingmymind,shehandsmetheteenypapercup.
“You’restillhere,”Isay,tryingtostall.Thesepillsmakemefeellikecrap.
Shesmiles.“Yes.Takeyourpillssothatyoucaneatbeforeitgetscold.”Ipourthemintomymouthwhileshewatches,andItakeasipofwater.
“Ifyoubehavetoday,youmaybeabletogototherecroomforawhiletomorrow.Iknowyoumustbeitchingtogetoutofthisroom.”
Whatconstitutesbehaving?Sofartherehasn’tbeenmuchmischieftogetupto.
Ieatmydinnerwithaplasticforkwhileshewatchesme.ImustbearealdelinquentifIhavetobesupervisedduringdinner.
“I’dratherusetherestroomthantherecroom,”Itellher.
“Eatfirst.I’llbebacktotakeyoutotherestroomandtohaveashower.”
Ifeellikeaprisonerratherthanapatient.“WhyamIhere?”Iask.
“Youdon’tremember?”
“WouldIbeaskingifIremembered?”Isnap.Iwipemymouthashereyesnarrow.
“Finishyourfood,”shesayscoldly.
Igrowimmediatelyangryatmysituation—atthewayshe’sdictatingeverysecondofmylifeasifit’sherstolive.
Iflingtheplateacrosstheroom.Itsmashesagainstthewallbythetelevision.Riceandsausageflyeverywhere.
Thatfeltgood.Thatfeltmorethangood.Thatfeltlikeme
Ilaughthen.Throwmyheadbackandlaugh.It’sadeeplaugh,wicked.
Oh,myGod!ThisiswhyI’mhere.Craaaaazy.
Icanseethemusclesinherjawclench.I’vemadehermad.Good.Istandupandrunforabrokenshardofplate.Idon’tknowwhat’scomeoverme,butthisfeelsright.Defendingmyselffeelsright.
Shetriestograbme,butIslipoutofhergrasp.Ipickupasharppieceofporcelain.Whattypeofmentalhospitalgivesyouporcelainplates?It’sadisasterwaitingtohappen.Iholdtheshardtowardherandtakeastepforward.“Tellmewhat’sgoingon.”
Shedoesn’tmove.Looksquitecalm,actually.
That’swhenthedoorbehindmemustopen,becausethenextthingIknowthere’sasharpstinginmyneckandI’mfallingtotheground.25
Silas
Ipulloveronthesideoftheroad.Igripthesteeringwheel,tryingtocalmmyselfdown.
Everythingisgone.Ihavenoideawhotookit.Someoneisprobablyreadingourlettersrightnow.They’llreadeverythingwewrotetoourselves,anddependingonwhotookit,Iprobablylookcertifiablyinsane.
IgrabasheetofblankpaperIfindinthebackseat,andIbegintowritethingsdown.AnythingIcanremember.I’mpissed,becauseIcan’trememberevenafractionofwhatwasinthenotesinsidethebackpack.Ouraddresses,ourlockercodes,ourbirthdays,allthenamesofourfriendsandfamily—Ican’trememberanyofit.WhatlittleIcanrecall,Iwritedown.Ican’tletthisstopmefromfindingher.
Ihavenoideawheretogonext.Icouldvisitthetarotshopagain;seeifshereturnedthere.Icouldtryandfindtheaddresstowhateverpropertyhasthegatethat’sinthepictureinherbedroom.Therehastobeaconnectionwiththetarotshopdisplayingthatsamepicture.
IcoulddrivetotheprisonandvisitCharlie’sfather,seewhatheknows.
PrisonisprobablythelastplaceIshouldgorightnow,though.
Igrabmyphoneandbeginscrollingthroughit.Ipassthepicturesfromjustlastnight.AnightIdon’trecallasinglesecondof.TherearepicturesofmeandCharlie,picturesofourtattoos,picturesofachurch,picturesofastreetmusician.
ThelastpictureisofCharlie,standingnexttoacab.ItappearsthatI’montheothersideofthestreet,snappingapictureofherasshepreparestoclimbinsideit.
ThishadtobethelasttimeIsawher.IntheletteritsaidshegotintoacabonBourbonStreet.
Izoominonthepicture,myexcitementgettingcaughtinmythroat.There’salicenseplateonthefrontofthecabandaphonenumberonthesideofthecab.
Whydidn’tIthinkofthisalready?
Ijotdownthephonenumberandlicenseplate,anddialthenumber.IfeellikeI’mfinallymakingprogress.
Thecabcompanyalmostrefusedtogivemeinformation.IfinallyconvincedtheoperatorthatIwasadetectiveandneededtoquestionthedriverregardingamissingperson.That’sonlyhalfofalie.Theguyonthephonesaidhehadtoaskaroundandcallmeback.Ittookaboutthirtyminutesbeforemyphonerangagain.
ItwastheactualdriverofthecabIspoketothistime.HesaidagirlmatchingthedescriptionofCharliehailedhiscablastnight,butbeforehecouldtakeheranywhere,shetoldhimnevermindandsheshutthedoorandwalkedaway.
Shejust…walkedaway?
Whywouldshedothat?Whywouldshenotcatchuptome?ShehadtoknowIwasprobablyjustaroundthenextcornerifthat’swherewepartedways.
Shehadtohaveanagenda.Idon’trememberathingabouther,butbasedonwhatI’veread,everythingshedoesseemstohaveapurpose.ButwhatcouldherpurposehavebeenonBourbonStreetatthattimeofnight?
Theonlythingsthatcometomindarethetarotshopandthediner.Butinthenotes,itstatesthatCharlienevershowedbackuptothediner,basedoninformationfromsomeonenamedAmy.WasshegoingtofindBrian?Ifeelaprickleofjealousyatthethought,butI’malmostconfidentshewouldn’thavedonethat.
Ithastobethetarotshop.
IsearchGoogleonmyphone,unabletoremembertheexactnameoftheplacewritteninournotes.ImarktwoofthemintheFrenchQuarterandsetmyGPStotakemethere.
Icantellalmostimmediatelyuponenteringthatthisistheshopwedescribedinthenotes.Theonewevisitedjustlastnight.
Lastnight.God.Whycan’tIremembersomethingthatjusthappenedonedayago?
Imakemywayupanddowneachaisle,takingineverythingaroundme,notevensurewhatI’minsearchof.WhenIreachthelastaisle,Irecognizethephotohangingonthewall.Thepictureofthegate.
It’sherefordecoration.Notsomethingforsale.Iliftuponmytoesuntilmyfingersgrabattheframe,andIpullitdowntoinspectitcloser.Thegateistall,guardingahouseinthebackgroundthatIcanbarelymakeoutinthepicture.Inthecornerofoneofthemassivecolumnsattachedtothegateisthenameofthehouse.JamaisJamais.
“CanIhelpyou?”
Ilookuptoseeamantoweringoverme,whichisimpressive.I’msixfootone,accordingtomydriver’slicense.Hehastobesixfootfive.
Ipointdowntothephotographinmyhands.“Doyouknowwhatthispictureisof?”
Themansnatchestheframeoutofmyhands.“Seriously?”Heseemsagitated.“Ididn’tknowwhatitwaswhenyourgirlfriendaskedmelastnight,andIstilldon’tknowwhatitistonight.It’sadamnpicture.”Hehangsitbackonthewall.
“Don’ttouchanythingunlessit’sforsaleandyouplantopurchaseit.”Hebeginstowalkaway,soIfollowhim.
“Wait,”Isay,takingtwostepstohislong,singlestrides.“Mygirlfriend?”
Hedoesn’tstopwalkingtowardtheregister.“Girlfriend.Sister.Cousin.Whatever.”
“Girlfriend,”Iclarify,eventhoughIdon’tknowwhyI’mclarifying.Heobviouslydoesn’tcare.“Didshecomebackinherelastnight?Afterweleft?”
Hemakeshiswaybehindtheregister.“Weclosedrightafterthetwoofyouleft.”Heplantshisgazeonmineandarchesaneyebrow.“Yougonnabuyanything,orareyoujustgonnafollowmearoundwithstupidquestionstherestofthenight?”
Iswallow.Hemakesmefeelyounger.Immature.He’stheepitomeofman,andtheboneinhiseyebrowmakesmefeellikeafrightenedchild.
Suckitup,Silas.You’renotapussy.
“Ijusthaveonemorestupidquestion.”
Hebeginsringingupacustomer.Hedoesn’trespond,soIcontinue.“WhatdoesJamaisJamaismean?”
Hedoesn’tevenlookatme.
“ItmeansNeverNever,”someonesaysfrombehindme.
Iimmediatelyturn,butmyfeetfeelheavy,likeI’vesunkenintomyshoes.NeverNever?
Thiscan’tbeacoincidence.CharlieandIrepeatthisphraseoverandoverinourletters.
Ilookatthewomanthevoicebelongsto,andshe’sstaringatme,chinlifted,facestraight.Herhairispulledback.It’sdark,sporadicallystreakedwithgraystrands.She’swearingalong,flowingpieceofmaterialthatpoolsaroundherfeetatthefloor.I’mnotevensureit’sadress.Itlooksasifshejustfashionedsomethingoutofasheetandasewingmachine.
Shehastobethetarotreader.She’splayingthepartwell.
“Whereisthathouselocated?Theoneinthephotoonthewall?”Ipointtothephotograph.Sheturnsandstaresatitforseverallongseconds.Withoutfacingmeagain,shecrooksherfingerformetofollowher,andshebeginstoheadtowardthebackofthestore.
Ireluctantlyfollowher.Beforewepassthroughadoorwayofbeadedcurtains,myphonebeginstovibrateinmypantspocket.Itrattlesagainstmykeys,andthewomanturnsandlooksatmeoverhershoulder.“Turnitoff.”
Ilookdownatthescreenandseethatit’smyfatheragain.Isilencethephone.“I’mnothereforareading,”Iclarify.“I’mjustlookingforsomeone.”
“Thegirl?”shesays,takingaseatontheothersideofasmalltableinthecenteroftheroom.Shemotionsformetosit,butIrefusetheoffer.
“Yes.Wewereherelastnight.”
Shenodsandbeginstoshuffleadeckofcards.“Iremember,”shesays.Asmallsmirkplaysatthecornerofhermouth.Iwatchassheseparatesthecardsintostacks.Sheliftsherheadandherfaceisexpressionless.“Butthatonlymakesoneofus,doesn’tit.”
Thestatementsendschillsovermyarms.Itaketwoquickstepsforwardandgrabthebackoftheemptychair.“Howdoyouknowthat?”Iblurtout.
Shemotionstothechairagain.ThistimeIsit.Iwaitforhertospeakagain,totellmewhatsheknows.She’sthefirstonetobecluedintowhat’shappeningtome.
Myhandsbegintoshake.Mypulseisthrobbingbehindmyeyes.Isqueezethemshutandpullmyhandsthroughmyhairtohidemynerves.“Please,”Itellher.“Ifyouknowsomething,pleasetellme.”
Shebeginstoshakeherheadslowly.Backandforth,backandforth.“It’snotthateasy,Silas,”shesays.
Sheknowsmyname.IwanttoscreamVictory,butIstilldon’thaveanyanswers.
“Lastnight,yourcardwasblank.I’veneverseenthatbefore.”Sherunsherhandacrossastackofcards,smoothingthemoutinaline.“I’veheardofit.We’veallheardofithappening.ButIdon’tknowanyonewhohasactuallyseenit.”
Blankcard?IfeellikeIrememberreadingthatinournotes,butitdoesn’thelpwhenInolongerhavethenotesinmypossession.Andwhoisshereferringtowhenshesayswe’veallheardofit.
“Whatdoesitmean?Whatcanyoutellme?HowdoIfindCharlie?”Myquestionstumbleoutofmymouthandtripovereachother.
“Thatpicture,”shesays.“Whyareyousocuriousaboutthathouse?”
IopenmymouthtotellheraboutthepictureinCharlie’sroom,butIclampitshut.Idon’tknowifIcantrusther.Idon’tknowher.She’sthefirstonetoknowwhat’sgoingonwithme.Thatcouldbeananswer,oritcouldbeanindicationofguilt.IfCharlieandIareundersomesortofspell,she’sprobablyoneofthefewwhowouldknowhowtodosomethingofthatmagnitude.
God,thisisridiculous.Aspell?WhyamIevenallowingmyselfthesethoughts?
“Iwasjustcuriousaboutthename,”Isay,lyingtoheraboutmyinquiryofthehouseinthepicture.“Whatelsecanyoutellme?”
Shecontinuesrealigningstacksofcards,neverflippingthemover.“WhatIcantellyou…theonlythingIwilltellyou…isthatyouneedtorememberwhatitisthatsomeonesodesperatelywantedyoutoforget.”Hereyesmeetmine,andsheliftsherchinagain.“Youmaygonow.Iamofnofurtherhelptoyou.”
Shescootsawayfromthetableandstands.Herfrockbillowsoutwiththeswiftmovement,andtheshoesshehasonunderneathmakemequestionherauthenticity.Iwouldassumeafortunetellerwouldbebarefoot.Orissheawitch?Awizard?Whateversheis,Iwantdesperatelytobelievethatshecanhelpmemorethanshehas.IcantellbasedonmyhesitationthatI’mnotthetypeofpersontobuyintothisshit.Butmydesperationisheavierthanmyskepticism.IfittakesbelievingindragonstofindCharlie,thenI’llbethefirsttowieldaswordinthefaceofitsfire.
“Therehastobesomething,”Itellher.“Ican’tfindCharlie.Ican’trememberanything.Idon’tevenknowwheretostartlooking.Youhavetogivememoreinformationthanthis.”Istand,myvoicedesperateandmyeyesevenmoreso.
Shesimplytiltsherheadandsmiles.
“Silas,theanswerstoyourquestionsliewithsomeonewhoisveryclosetoyou.”Shepointstothedoorway.“Youmaygonow.Youhavealotofsearchingtodo.”
Veryclosetome?
Myfather?Landon?WhoelseamIclosewithbesidesCharlie?Iglanceatthebeadedcurtainsandthenbackather.She’salreadywalkingaway,towardadoorinthebackofthebuilding.Iwatchherassheleaves.
Irunmyhandsupmyface.Iwanttoscream.26
Charlie
WhenIwakeup,everythingisclean.Norice,nosausage,noshardsofporcelaintocutabitch.
Whoa!Wheredidthatcomefrom?Ifeelloopy.She’sgotthistimeddowntoaT.
KnockSammyout,bringhercrappyfood,knockSammyout,bringhercrappyfood.
Butthistimewhenshereturns,shedoesn’thavecrappyfood.She’scarryingatowelandasmallbarofsoap.
Finally!Arestroom.
“Showertime,”shesays.She’snotasfriendlythistime.Hermouthisatightlineacrossherface.Istandup,expectingtoswayalittle.Theneedletotheneckwasstrongerthantheotherstuffthey’vebeengivingme,butIdon’tfeelasfoggy.Mymindissharp;mybodyisreadytoreact.
“Whyareyoutheonlyonewhocomes?”Isay.“Ifyou’reanurse,youmustworkinshifts.”
Sheturnsaway,walkstothedoor.
“Hello…?”
“Behave,”shesays.“Nexttimethingswon’tgoaswellforyou.”
Ishutmymouthbecauseshe’stakingmeoutofthisbox,andIreally,reallywanttoseewhat’sbehindthatdoor.
Sheopensthedoorandletsmewalkoutfirst.There’sanotherdoorinfrontofme.I’mconfused.SheturnsrightandIseethere’sahallway.Justtomyrightisabathroom.Ihaven’tusedthetoiletinhours,andtheminuteIseeitmybladderstartstoache.Shehandsmethetowel.“Showeronlyhascoldwater.Don’ttakelong.”
Iclosethedoor.It’slikeabunker.Nowindows,rawconcrete.Thetoiletdoesn’thavealidoraseat,justarimlessholewithasinknexttoit.Iuseitanyway.
Ontopofthesinkisanewhospitalgownandunderwear.IstudyeverythingasIpee,lookingforsomething.Anything.There’sarustedpipenearthefloor,juttingoutofthewall.Iflushthetoiletandmovetowardit.Stickingmyhandinside,Ifeelaround.Gross.Apieceofthepipehascorrodedaway.
Igototurnthewateronintheshowerincaseshe’slistening.It’satinylittlebitofmetal,butwithsomeeffortI’mabletodetachitfromthewall.It’ssomething,atleast.
Icarryitintotheshowerwithme,holdingitinonehandwhileIwash.Thewaterissocold;Ican’tstopmyteethfromchattering.Itrytoclenchmyjawtighter,butmyteethstillrattleinsidemyheaddespitehowmuchItrytostillthem.
HowpatheticamI?Ihavenocontrolovermyownteeth.Nocontrolovermyownmemories.NocontroloverwhenIeat,sleep,showerorpee.
TheonlythingIfeelIcancontrolismyeventualescapefromwhereveritisthatIam.Iclutchthepipeinmyhandswithallmystrength,knowingitcouldbetheonlythingthatgetsmebacksomeformofcontrol.
WhenIwalkoutofthebathroom,it’swrappedintoiletpaperandstuffedinmyunderwear,asimplepairofwhitepantiessheleftforme.Idon’thaveaplanyet;I’lljustwaitfortherightmoment.27
Silas
It’sdarknow.I’vebeendrivingforovertwohourswithoutaclueastowheretogonext.Ican’tgobackhome.Ican’tgotoCharlie’shouse.Idon’tknowanyoneelse,sotheonlythingIcandoisdrive.
Ihaveeightmissedcalls.TwoarefromLandon.OnefromJanette.Therestarefrommyfather.
Ialsohaveeightvoicemails,noneofwhichI’velistenedtoyet.Idon’twanttoworryaboutanyofthemrightnow.Noneofthemhasanycluewhat’sreallygoingon,andnoonewouldbelievemeifItoldthem.Idon’tblamethem.Ikeeprepeatingtheentiredayinmyhead,anditseemstooridiculousformetoevenbelieve—andI’mtheonelivingit.
It’salltooridiculous,butwaytooreal.
Ipulloveratagasstationtofillupmycar.I’mnotevensureifI’veeatenanythingtoday,butIfeellight-headed,soIgrababagofchipsandabottleofwaterwhileinsidethestore.
TheentiretimeIfillmytankwithgas,IwonderaboutCharlie.WhenI’mbackontheroad,I’mstillwonderingaboutCharlie.IwonderifCharlie’seatenanything.
Iwonderifshe’salone.
Iwonderifshe’sbeingtakencareof.
IwonderhowI’mpossiblysupposedtofindherwhenshecouldbeanywhereintheentireworldrightnow.AllI’mdoingisdrivingincircles,slowingeverytimeIpassagirlwalkingonasidewalk.Idon’tknowwheretolook.Idon’tknowwheretogo.Idon’tknowhowtobetheguywhosavesher.
Iwonderwhatpeopledowhentheyhavenoplacetogoandnoplacetobe.
Iwonderifthisiswhatit’sliketobecrazy.Certifiablyinsane.IfeelasthoughIhaveabsolutelyzerocontrolovermyownmind.
AndifI’mnottheoneincontrol…whois?
Myphoneringsagain.IlookatthecallerIDandseethatit’sLandon.Idon’tknowwhyIpickituptoanswerit.MaybeI’mjusttiredofbeinginsidemyownheadandnotgettinganyanswers.Ipullovertothesideoftheroadtotalktohim.
“Hello?”
“Pleasetellmewhatthehellisgoingon.”
“Cananyonehearyou?”
“No,”hesays.“Thegamejustended.Dadistalkingtothepolice.Everyone’sworriedaboutyou,Silas.”
Idon’trespond.Ifeelbadthatthey’reworried,butevenworsethatnooneseemstobeworriedaboutCharlie.
“HavetheyfoundCharlieyet?”
Icanhearpeopleshoutinginthebackground.Itsoundslikehecalledmethesecondthegameended.“They’relooking,”hesays.
Butthere’ssomethingelseinhisvoice.Somethingunspoken.“Whatisit,Landon?”
Hesighsagain.“Silas…they’relookingforyoutoo.Theythink…”Hisvoiceisheavywithworry.“Theythinkyouknowwheresheis.”
Iclosemyeyes.Iknewthiswouldhappen.Iwipemypalmsdownmyjeans.“Idon’tknowwheresheis.”
SeveralsecondspassbeforeLandonspeaksagain.“Janettewenttothepolice.Shesaidshethoughtyouwereactingstrange,sowhenshefoundCharlie’sthingsinabackpackinsideyourgymlocker,sheturnedthemintothepolice.Youhadherwallet,Silas.Andherphone.”
“FindingCharlie’sthingsinmypossessionishardlyproofthatI’mresponsibleforherdisappearance.It’sproofthatI’mherboyfriend.”
“Comehome,”hesays.“Tellthemyouhavenothingtohide.Answertheirquestions.Ifyoucooperate,they’llhavenoreasontoaccuseyou.”
Ha.Ifonlyansweringtheirquestionswasthateasy.
“DoyouthinkIhavesomethingtodowithherdisappearance?”
“Doyou?”heasksimmediately.
“No.”
“Thenno,”hesays.“Idon’tthinkyouhaveanythingtodowithit.Whereareyou?”
“Idon’tknow.”
Ihearamufflednoise,likehe’scoveringthephonewithhishand.Icanhearvoicesinthebackground.
“Didyougetholdofhim?”amanasks.
“Stilltrying,Dad,”Landonsays.
Moremuttering.
“Youthere,Silas?”heasks.
“Yeah.Ihaveaquestion,”Isay.“HaveyoueverheardofaplacecalledJamaisJamais?”
Silence.Iwaitforhimtorespond,buthedoesn’t.“Landon?Haveyouheardofit?”
Anotherheavysigh.“It’sCharlie’soldhouse,Silas.Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?You’reondrugs,aren’tyou?JesusChrist,Silas.Whatthehelldidyoutake?IsthatwhathappenedtoCharlie?Isthatwhy…”
Ihangupthephonewhilehe’sstillinthemiddleofspoutingoffquestions.IsearchBrettWynwood’shomeaddressontheInternet.Ittakesmeawhile,buttwoaddressespopupintheresults.OneIremember,becauseIwasjustthereearliertoday.It’swhereCharlielivesnow.
TheotherisoneIdon’trecognize.It’stheaddresstoJamaisJamais
THEHOUSESITSONSIXACRES,OVERLOOKINGLAKEBORGNE.ITWASBUILTIN1860,EXACTLYONEYEARBEFORETHECIVILWARBEGAN.THEHOUSEWASORIGINALLYNAMED“LATERRERENCONTREL’EAU,”WHICHMEANS“LANDMEETSWATER.”
ITWASUSEDASAHOSPITALDURINGTHEWAR,HOUSINGWOUNDEDCONFEDERATESOLDIERS.YEARSAFTERTHEWAR,THEHOUSEWASPURCHASEDBYABANKER,FRANKWYNWOOD,IN1880.THEHOMEREMAINEDINTHEFAMILY,PASSEDDOWNTHREEGENERATIONS,ULTIMATELYLANDINGINTHEHANDSOFTHENTHIRTY-YEAR-OLDBRETTWYNWOODIN1998.
BRETTWYNWOODANDHISFAMILYOCCUPIEDTHEHOMEUNTIL2005,WHENHURRICANEKATRINACAUSEDEXTENSIVEDAMAGETOTHEPROPERTY.THEFAMILYWASFORCEDTOABANDONTHEHOME,ANDITSATUNTOUCHEDFORSEVERALYEARSBEFORERENOVATIONSBEGAN.THEENTIREHOUSEWASGUTTEDANDREBUILT,WITHONLYPORTIONSOFTHEORIGINALOUTERWALLSANDROOFSALVAGED
IN2011,THEWYNWOODFAMILYMOVEDBACKINTOTHEIRHOME.DURINGTHEUNVEILING,BRETTWYNWOODANNOUNCEDTHEHOMEHADBEENGIVENANEWNAME:“JAMAISJAMAIS.”
WHENASKEDWHYHECHOSETHEFRENCHTRANSLATIONOF“NEVERNEVER,”HESAIDHISDAUGHTER,FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLDCHARLIZEWYNWOOD,ACTUALLYDECIDEDONTHENAME.“SHESAYSIT’SANHOMAGETOFAMILYHISTORY.NEVERFORGETTHOSEWHOPAVEDTHEWAYBEFOREYOU.NEVERSTOPTRYINGTOBETTERTHEWORLDFORTHOSEWHOWILLINHABITITAFTERYOU.”
THEWYNWOODFAMILYOCCUPIEDTHEHOMEUNTIL2013,WHENITWENTINTOFORECLOSUREFOLLOWINGANINVESTIGATIONINTOWYNWOOD-NASHFINANCIALGROUP.THEHOMEWASSOLDINAUCTIONINLATE2013TOANANONYMOUSBIDDER
Iaddthepagetomyfavoritesinmyphoneandmakeanoteofthearticle.IfounditafterIpulleduptotheproperty—rightuptothelockedgate.
Theheightofthegateisimpressive,asifit’slettingvisitorsknowthatthepeoplebeyondthisgatearemightierthanthepeoplewhoarenot.
Iwonderifthat’showCharlie’sfatherfeltlivinghere.Iwonderhowmightyhefeltwhensomeoneelsetookownershipofthepropertythat’sbeeninhisfamilyforgenerations.
Thepropertyislocatedattheendofanisolatedroad,asiftheroadbelongstothegate,too.Afterattemptingtofindawayaroundorthroughthegate,Iconcludethatthereisn’tone.It’sdarknow,soIcouldbemissingapathoranalternateentrance.I’mnotevensurewhyIwantpastthegate,butIcan’thelpbutfeellikethepicturesofthispropertyareclues.
ConsideringI’mwantedforquestioning,it’sprobablybestifIdon’tdrivearoundanymorethanIhavetotonight,soIdecidetostayhereuntilmorning.Iturnoffmycar.IfI’mgoingtobeworthanythingtomorrow,Ineedtotryandgetatleastafewhoursofsleep.
Ileanmyseatback,closemyeyesandwonderifI’mgoingtodreamtonight.Idon’tevenknowwhatIwoulddreamabout.Ican’tdreamifIdon’tsleep,andIhaveafeelingfallingasleeptonightisgoingtobeimpossible.
Myeyesflickbackopenwiththatthought.
Thevideo.
Inoneofmyletters,ImentionedfallingasleeptoavideoofCharliesleeping.IsearchmyphoneuntilIfindit.IpressplayandwaittohearCharlie’svoiceforthefirsttime.28
Charlie
Moresleeping.
Notbecauseofpillsthistime.Ipretendedtoswallowthemandkepttheminmycheek.Shestayedsolongtheywerestartingtodissolve.Assoonasthedoorclosedbehindher,Ispitthemintomyhand.
Nomoredrowsiness.Ineedtobeclearofmind.
Isleptofmyownaccordandhadmoredreamsearlier.Dreamsofthesameguyasinthefirstdream.OrshouldIsaythefirstmemory?Inmydream,theguywasleadingmethroughadirtystreet.Hewasn’tlookingatme,hewaslookingahead,hiswholebodypullingforwardlikesomeinvisibleforcehadholdofhim.Inhislefthandwasacamera.Hestoppedsuddenlyandlookedacrossthestreet.Ifollowedhisgaze.
“There,”hesaid.“Look.”
ButIdidn’twanttolook.Iturnedmybackonwhathewasseeing,lookedatawallinstead.Thenallofasudden,hishandwasnolongerinmine.Iturnedandwatchedhimcrossthestreetandapproachawomansittingcross-leggedagainstawall.Inherarmsshecradledatinybabywrappedinawoolenblanket.Theguycroucheddowninfrontofher.Theyspokeforalongtime.Hehandedhersomethingandshesmiled.Whenhestoodup,thebabystartedtocry.That’swhenhesnappedthepicture.
IcouldstillseeherfacewhenIwokeup,butitwasn’tareal-lifeimage,itwasaphoto.Theonehetook.Araggedmotherwithknottedhair,staringdownatherinfant,histinymouthopeninascream,theirbackdropthechippedpaintofabrightbluedoor.
Whenthedreamwasover,Iwasn’tsadlikelasttime.Iwantedtomeettheboywhodocumentedsufferinginsuchvividcolor.
IlieawakemostofwhatIassumeisthenight.Shereturnswithbreakfast.
“Youagain,”Isay.“Neveradayoff…oranhour.”
“Yup,”shesays.“We’reunderstaffed,soI’mworkingdoubles.Eat.”
“Nothungry.”
Sheoffersmethecupofpills.Idon’ttakethem.“Iwanttoseeadoctor,”Isay.
“Thedoctorisverybusytoday.Icanmakeanappointmentforyou.Hecanprobablyseeyousometimenextweek.”
“No.Iwanttoseeadoctortoday.Iwanttoknowwhatmedicationyou’regivingmeandIwanttoknowwhyI’mhere.”
It’sthefirsttimeI’veseenanythingbutboredfriendlinessonherface.Sheleansforward,andIcansmellthecoffeeonherbreath.“Don’tbeabrat,”shehisses.“Youdon’tgettomakedemandshere,doyouunderstandme?”Sheshovesthepillsatme.
“I’mnottakingthoseuntiladoctortellsmewhyIam,”Isay,noddingtowardthecup.“Doyouunderstandme?”
Ithinkshe’sgoingtohitme.Myhandfeelsforthepieceofpipeundermypillow.Themusclesinmyshouldersandbacktense,theballsofmyfeetpressdownonthetile.IamreadytospringifIneedto.Butthenurseturns,insertsherkeyintothedoor,andisgone.Iheartheclickofthelock,andthenI’maloneagain.29
Silas
“Ican’tbelieveyougotawaywiththat,”Isaytoher.Idropmyhandstoherwaist,pushingheruntilherbackisagainstherbedroomdoor.Sheplacesherpalmsagainstmychestandlooksupatmewithaninnocentgrin.
“Gotawaywithwhat?”
Ilaughandpressmylipsagainstherneck.“It’sanhomagetofamilyhistory?”Ilaugh,movingmylipsupherneck,drawingclosertohermouth.“Whatareyougoingtodoifyoueverwanttobreakupwithme?You’llbestucklivinginahousethatwasnamedafterthephraseyouusewithyourex-boyfriend.”
Sheshakesherheadandpushesagainstmesoshecanwalkpastme.“IfIeverwanttobreakupwithyou,I’lljusthaveDaddychangethenameofourhouse.”
“Hewouldneverdothat,Char.Hethoughttheb.s.meaningyougavehimwasgenius.”
Sheshrugs.“ThenI’llburnittotheground.”Shesitsontheedgeofhermattress,andItakeaseatnexttoher,pushingherontoherback.ShegigglesasIleanoverherandcageherinwithmyhands.She’ssobeautiful.
I’vealwaysknownshewasbeautiful,butthisyearhasbeenreallygoodtoher.Reallygood.Ilookdownatherchest.Ican’thelpit.They’vejustgottenso…perfectthisyear.
“Doyouthinkyourboobsarefinishedgrowing?”Iaskher.Shelaughsandslapsmeontheshoulder.“You’redisgusting.”
Ibringmyfingersuptowherehert-shirtscoopsdownatherneck.ItrailmyfingersacrossherchestuntilImeetthedipinhershirt.“Whendoyouthinkyou’llletmeseethem?”
“Jamais,jamais,”shesayswithalaugh.
Igroan.“Comeon,Charliebaby.I’velovedyouforfourteenyearsnow.Thatshouldearnmesomething—aquickpeek,ahanduptheshirt.”
“We’refourteen,Silas.Askmeagainwhenwe’refifteen.”
Ismile.“That’sonlytwomonthsawayforme.”Ipressmylipstohersandcanfeelherchestriseagainstminewithherquickintakeofbreath.God,thetorture.
Hertongueslipsinsidemymouthasherhandcradlesthebackofmyhead,pullingmecloser.Thesweet,sweettorture.
Ilowermyhandtoherwaist,inchinghershirtuplittlebylittleuntilmyfingershaveaccesstoherskin.Isplaymyhandoutacrossherwaist,feelingtheheatfromherbodyagainstmypalm.
Icontinuetokissherasmyhandexploresmoreofher,inchbyinch,untiloneofmyfingertipsmeetsthefabricofherbra.
Iwanttokeepgoing—tofeelthesoftnessbeneathmyfingertips.Iwantto—“Silas!”
Charliesinksintothemattress.Herentirebodyisabsorbedbythesheets,andI’mleftpalmingheremptypillow.
Whatthehell?Wheredidshego?Peopledon’tjustdisappearintothinair.
“Silas,openthedoor!”
Isqueezemyeyesshut.“Charlie?Whereareyou?”
“Wakeup!”
IopenmyeyesandI’mnolongerinCharlie’sbed.
I’mnolongerafourteen-year-oldboyabouttotouchaboobforthefirsttime.
I’m…Silas.Lostandconfusedandsleepinginadamncar.
Afistpoundsagainstmydriver-sidewindow.IallowmyeyesafewmoresecondstoadjusttothesunlightpouringintomycarbeforeIlookup.
Landonisstandingatmydoor.Iimmediatelysitupandturnaround,lookingbehindme,tothesidesofme.
It’sonlyLandon.Nooneelseiswithhim.
IreachforthehandleonthedoorandwaitforhimtostepasidebeforeIswingitopen.“Didyoufindher?”Iask,steppingoutofmycar.
Heshakeshishead.“No,they’restilllooking.”Hesqueezesthebackofhisneck,justlikeIdowhenI’mnervousorstressed.
Iopenmymouthtoaskhimhowheknewwheretofindme.ButthenIclosemymouthafterrememberingIaskedhimaboutthishouserightbeforeIhunguponhim.Ofcoursehewouldlookhere.
“Youneedtohelpthemfindher,Silas.Youhavetotellthemeverythingyouknow.”
Ilaugh.EverythingIknow.Ileanagainstmycarandfoldmyarmsacrossmychest.Istopsmilingattheridiculousnessofthesituation,andIlockeyeswithmylittlebrother.“Idon’tknowanything,Landon.Idon’tevenknowyou.Andasfarasmymemoryisconcerned,I’veneverevenmetCharlizeWynwood.HowamIsupposedtotellthepolicethat?”
Landon’sheadistilted.He’sstaringatme…silentandcurious.HethinksI’vegonecrazy;Icanseeitinhiseyes.
Hemightberight.
“Getinthecar,”Itellhim.“Ihavealottotellyou.Let’sgoforadrive.”
Iopenmydoorandclimbbackinside.Hewaitsseveralseconds,butthenhewalkstothecarparkedintheditch.Helocksitandthenmakeshiswaytomypassengerdoor.
“Letmegetthisstraight,”hesays,leaningforwardinthebooth.“YouandCharliehavebothbeenlosingyourmemoriesforoveraweeknow.You’vebothbeenwritingyourselvesletters.ThoseletterswereinthebackpackJanettefoundandturnedintothepolice.Theonlypersonwhoknowsaboutthisissomerandomtarotreader.Ithappensatthesametimeofday,everyforty-eighthours,andyouclaimtohavenorecollectionofwhathappenedthedaybeforeshewentmissing?”
Inod.
Landonlaughsandfallsbackagainsthisseat.Heshakeshisheadandpicksuphisdrink,stickingthestrawintohismouth.Hetakesalongsipandthensighsheavilyashereturnshisglasstothetable.
“Ifthisisyourwayoftryingtogetawaywithhermurder,you’regoingtoneedamuchstrongeralibithanadamnvoodoocurse.”
“She’snotdead.”
Heraisesaquestioningeyebrow.Ican’tblamehim.Ifthetableswereturned,there’snowayinhellIwouldbelieveeverythingthatjustcameoutofmymouth.
“Landon,Idon’texpectyoutobelieveme.Ireallydon’t.It’sridiculous.Butforthesakeofshitsandgiggles,willyoujusthumormeforafewhours?Justpretendyoubelievemeandanswerquestionsforme,evenifyouthinkIalreadyknowtheanswers.ThentomorrowyoucanturnmeintothepoliceifyoustillthinkI’mcrazy.”
Heshakeshisheadandlooksdisappointed.“EvenifIthoughtyouwerecrazy,Iwouldneverturnyouintothepolice,Silas.You’remybrother.”Hemotionsforthewaitertocomeoverandrefillhisdrink.Hetakesasipandthengetscomfortable.“Okay.Fireaway.”
Ismile.IknewIlikedhimforareason.
“WhathappenedbetweenBrettandourfather?”
Landonlaughsunderhisbreath.“Thisisridiculous,”hemutters.“YouknowmoreaboutthatthanIdo.”Butthenheleansforwardandbeginstoanswermyquestion.“Aninvestigationwaslaunchedacoupleofyearsagoduetoanexternalaudit.Alotofpeoplelostalotofmoney.DadwasclearedandBrettwaschargedwithfraud.”
“IsDadreallyinnocent?”
Landonshrugs.“I’dliketothinkheis.Hisnamewasdraggedthroughthemudandhelostthemajorityofhisbusinessafterwhathappened.He’sbeentryingtorebuildit,butnoonetrustshimwiththeirmoneynow.ButIguesswecan’tcomplain.WestillfaredbetterthanCharlie’sfamilydid.”
“DadaccusedCharlieoftakingsomefilesfromhisoffice.Whatwashetalkingabout?”
“Theycouldn’tfigureoutwherethemoneywent,sotheyassumedBrettorDadwashidingitinoffshoreaccounts.TherewasastretchbeforethetrialwhereDaddidn’tsleepforthreedays.Hewentthrougheverydetailofeverytransactionandeveryreceiptrecordedforthepasttenyears.Onenighthecameoutofhisofficeholdingafile.Hesaidhefoundit,foundwhereBrettwaskeepingthemoney.HefinallyhadtheinformationheneededtoholdBrettresponsiblefortheentirething.Hecalledhislawyerandtoldhimhewoulddelivertheevidenceassoonashegotacouplehoursofsleep.Thenextday…hecouldn’tfindthefiles.Heblewuponyou,assumingyouhadwarnedCharlieaboutit.HebelievestothisdaythatCharlietookthosefiles.Shedeniedit.Youdeniedit.Andwithouttheevidenceheclaimedtohave,theycouldneverchargeBrettonallcounts.He’llprobablybeoutofjailinfiveyearswithgoodbehavior,butfromwhatDadsays,thosefileswouldhaveputhimawayforlife.”
Jesus.Thisisalottoremember.
Iholdupafinger.“I’llberightback.”Islipoutoftheboothandrunoutoftherestaurant,straighttomycar.Isearchformorepapertotakenoteson.LandonisstillattheboothwhenIreturn.Idon’taskanotherquestionuntilIwriteeverythingdownhejusttoldme.AndthenIfeedhimatidbitofinformationjusttoseehowheresponds
“I’mtheonewhotookthosefiles,”IsaytoLandon.Ilookupathimandhiseyesarenarrowed.
“Ithoughtyousaidyoucan’trememberanything.”
Ishakemyhead.“Ican’t.ButImadeanoteaboutsomefilesIfoundthatIwashiding.WhydoyouthinkIwouldtakethemiftheywouldhaveprovedDad’sinnocence?”
Landonpondersmyquestionforamomentthenshakeshishead.“Idon’tknow.Whoevertookthemneverdidanythingwiththem.SotheonlyreasonyouwouldhavehidthemistoprotectCharlie’sfather.”
“WhywouldIwanttoprotectBrettWynwood?”
“Maybeyouweren’tprotectinghimforhisownsake.MaybeyouweredoingitforCharlie.”
Idropthepen.That’sit.TheonlyreasonIwouldhavetakenthosefilesisifIweredoingittoprotectCharlie.
“Wassheclosetoherfather?”
Landonlaughs.“Very.Shewasadaddy’sgirlthroughandthrough.Inallhonesty,Ithinktheonlypersonshelovedmorethanyouwasherfather.”
ThisfeelslikeI’munravelingapieceofapuzzle,evenifit’snotthepuzzleIshouldbeunraveling.KnowingtheoldSilas,hewouldhavedoneanythingtomakeCharliehappy.Whichincludesprotectingherfromknowingthetruthaboutherfather.
“WhathappenedwithmeandCharlieafterthat?Imean…ifshelovedherfatherthatmuch,youwouldthinkmyfatherputtinghimbehindbarswouldhavemadeherneverwanttospeaktomeagain.”
Landonshakeshishead.“Youwereallshehad,”hesays.“Youstuckbyhersidethroughitall,andnothingpissedDadoffmorethanknowingyoudidn’tstandbyhissideahundredpercent.”
“DidIthinkDadwasinnocent?”
“Yeah,”Landonsays.“YoujustmadeitapointnottotakesideswhenitcametohimandCharlie.Unfortunately,toDadthatmeantyouweretakingtheirside.Thetwoofyouhaven’tbeenonthebesttermsforthepastyearortwo.Theonlytimehespeakstoyouiswhenhe’syellingatyoufromthestandsatFridaynightgames.”
“Whyishesoobsessedwithmeplayingfootball?”
Landonlaughsagain.“He’sbeenobsessedwithhissonsattendinghisalmamattersincebeforeheknewhewashavingsons.He’sshovedfootballdownourthroatssincewecouldwalk.Idon’tmindit,butyoualwayshatedit.Andthatmakeshimresentyouevenmore,becauseyouhaveatalentforit.It’sinyourblood.Butyou’veneverwantedanythingmorethantojustbeabletowalkawayfromit.”Hesmiles.“God,youshouldhaveseenhimwhenheshoweduplastnightandyouweren’toutonthatfield.Heactuallytriedtohavethegamestoppeduntilwecouldfindyou,buttheofficialswouldn’tallowit.”
Imakeanoteofthis.“Youknow…Ican’trememberhowtoplayfootball.”
AsmirkplaysonLandon’slips.“Now,that’sthefirstthingyou’vesaidtodaythatIactuallybelieve.Theotherdaywhenwewereinahuddle,youseemedlost.You.Dothatthing.”Helaughsoutloud.“Soaddthattoyourlist.Youforgothowtoplayfootball.Howconvenient.”
Iaddittothelist.
Remembersonglyrics.
Forgotpeopleweknow.
Rememberpeoplewedon’tknow.
Rememberhowtouseacamera.
Hatefootball,butI’mforcedtoplay.
Forgothowtoplayfootball.
Istareatthelist.I’msureIhadalotmorestuffwrittendownonmyoldlist,butIcanhardlyrememberanyofit.
“Letmeseethat,”Landonsays.HescrollsoverthenotesI’vealreadytaken.“Shit.You’rereallytakingthisseriously.”Hestaresatitforafewsecondsandthenhandsitbacktome.“Itseemslikeyoucanrememberthingsyouwantedtolearnyourself,likesonglyricsandyourcamera.Butanythingelseyouweretaught,youforgot.”
Ipullthelistinfrontofmeandlookatit.Hemighthaveapoint,otherthanthefactthatIcan’trememberpeople.Imakeanoteofthatandthencontinuewithmyquestions.
“HowlonghasCharliebeenseeingBrian?Werewebrokenup?”
Herunshishandthroughhishairandtakesasipofhissoda.Hepullshisfeetupandleansagainstthewall,stretchinghislegsoutontheseat.“We’regonnabehereallday,aren’twe.”
“Ifthat’swhatittakes.”
“Brian’salwayshadathingforCharlieandeveryoneknowsit.YouandBrianhavenevergottenalongbecauseofit,butyoumakeitworkforthesakeofthefootballteam.Charliestartedtochangeafterherfatherwenttoprison.Shewasn’tasnice…notthatshe’severbeenthenicest.Butlately,she’sactuallyturnedintosomewhatofabully.Thetwoofyoudonothingbutfightnow.Ihonestlythinkshehasn’tbeenseeinghimforthatlong.Itstartedwithherjustgivinghimattentionwhenyouwerearound,soshecouldpissyouoff.Iguessforhertocontinuethat,shehadtokeepupappearanceswithhimwhentheywerealone.Idon’tbuyitthatshelikeshim,though.She’sahellofalotsmarterthanheis,andifanyonewasbeingused,itwasBrian.”
I’mwritingeverythingdown,butI’malsonoddingmyhead.Ihadafeelingshewasn’treallyintotheguy.ItseemslikemyrelationshipwithCharliewasstretchedasthinasair,andshewasjustdoingwhatshecouldtotestourstrength.
“WhatareCharlie’sreligiousbeliefs?Wassheknowntobeintovoodooorspellsoranythinglikethat?”
“NotthatIknowof,”hesays.“WewereallraisedCatholic.Wedon’treallypracticeunlessit’sasignificantholiday.”
Imakenoteofthatandtrytothinkofanotherquestion.Istillhavesomany,andIdon’tknowwhattogowithnext.“Isthereanythingelse?Anythingoutoftheordinarythathappenedlastweek?”
Icanimmediatelytellhe’shidingsomethingbythechangeinhisfacialexpressionandthewayheshiftsinhisseat.
“Whatisit?”
Hepullshisfeetofftheseatandleansforward,loweringhisvoice.“Thepolice…theywereatthehousetoday.IheardthemquestioningEzraaboutfindinganythingunusual.Atfirstshedeniedit,butIthinkherguiltgotthebestofher.Shementionedfindingsheetsinyourroom.Shesaidtherewasbloodonthem.”
Ileanbackagainstmyboothandstareupattheceiling.Thisisn’tgood.“Wait,”Isay,leaningforwardagain.“Thatwaslastweek.BeforeCharliewentmissing.Itcan’tbetiedtoherifthat’swhatthey’rethinking.”
“No,Iknowthat.Ezratoldthemthattoo.ThatitwaslastweekandshesawCharliethatday.Butstill,Silas.Whatthehellwereyoudoing?Whywastherebloodonyoursheets?Thewaypolicethink,they’reprobablyassumingyoubeatCharlieorsomething,andthatitfinallywenttoofar.”
“I’dneverhurther,”Isaydefensively.“Ilovethatgirl.”
Assoonasthewordsleavemymouth,Ishakemyhead,notunderstandingwhyIevensaidthem.I’veneverevenmether.I’veneverevenspokentoher.
ButI’llbedamned.IjustsaidIloveher,andImeantitstraighttomycore.
“Howcanyouloveher?Youclaimyoucan’trememberher.”
“Imaynotrememberher,butIsureashellstillfeelher.”Istandup.“Andthat’swhyweneedtofindher.Startingwithherfather.”
Landontriestocalmmedown,buthehasnoideahowfrustratingitistoloseeightentirehourswhenyouonlyhaveforty-eighthourstotal.
It’saftereighto’clockatnightalready,andwe’veofficiallywastedtheentireday.Assoonaswelefttherestaurant,weheadedtowardtheprisontopayBrettWynwoodavisit.Aprisonthat’salmostthreehoursaway.Couplethatwithatwo-hourwait,onlytobetoldwearen’tonthevisitorlistandthere’snothingwecandotodaytochangeit…I’mmorethanpissed.
Ican’taffordtomakemistakeswhenIhavejusthourslefttofigureoutwheresheisbeforeIloseeverythingI’velearnedsinceyesterday.
WepullupnexttoLandon’scar.Ikillmyignition,stepoutofthecar,andwalktothegate.Therearetwopadlocksonit,anditlookslikethey’reneverused.
“Whoboughtthishouse?”IaskLandon.
Ihearhimlaughbehindme,soIturnaround.HeseesthatIlackhumorinthissituation,soherollshishead.
“Comeon,Silas.Droptheact,already.Youknowwhoboughtthehouse.”
Ibreathesteadilyinthroughmynoseandoutmymouth,remindingmyselfthatIcan’tblamehimforthinkingI’mmakingallofthisup.Inodandthenturntofacethegateagain.“Humorme,Landon.”
Icanhearhimkickatthegravelandgroan.Andthenhesays,“JaniceDelacroix.”
Thenamemeansnothingtome,butIwalkbacktomytruckandopenthedoortomakeanoteofthename.“Delacroix.IsthataFrenchname?”
“Yeah,”hesays.“Sheownsoneofthosetouristshopsdowntown.Readstarotsorsomeshitlikethat.Nooneknowshowshewasabletoaffordtheplace.Herdaughtergoestoourschool.”
Istopwriting.Thetarotreader.Thatexplainsthepicture,andalsowhyshewouldn’tgivememoreinformationonthehouse—becauseitseemedweirdtoherthatIwasaskingaboutherhome.
“Sopeopleactuallylivehere?”Isay,turningaroundtofacehim.
Heshrugs.“Yeah.It’sjustthetwoofthem,though—herandherdaughter.Theyprobablyuseadifferententrance.Doesn’tlooklikethisgategetsopenedmuch.”
Istarepastthegate…atthehouse.“What’sherdaughter’sname?”
“Cora,”hesays.“CoraDelacroix.ButeveryonecallsherTheShrimp.”30
Charlie
Noonecomesforalongtime.IthinkI’mbeingpunished.I’mthirstyandIneedtogotothebathroom.AfterholdingitaslongasIcan,Ifinallypeeintheplasticcuponmybreakfasttrayandsetthefullcupinthecorneroftheroom.Ipacebackandforth,pullingatmyhairuntilIthinkI’mgoingtogocrazy.
Whatifnoonecomesback?Whatifthey’veleftmeheretodie?
Thedoorwon’tbudge;Ibruisemyfistspoundingonit.Iscreamforsomeonetohelpmeuntilmyvoicegrowshoarse.
I’msittingonthefloorwithmyheadinmyhandswhenthedoorfinallyopens.Ijumpup.It’snotthenurse—it’ssomeoneelsethistime,younger.Herscrubshangoffhersmallbody.Shelookslikealittlekidplayingdressup.Ieyeherwarilyasshemovesacrossmysmallroom.Shenoticesthecupinthecornerandraiseshereyebrows.
“Doyouneedtousethefacilities?”sheasks.
“Yes.”
Shesetsthetraydownandmystomachgrumbles.“Iaskedtoseethedoctor,”Isay.
Hereyesdartlefttoright.She’snervous.Why?
“Thedoctorisbusytoday,”shesays,notlookingatme.
“Whereistheothernurse?”
“It’sherdayoff,”shesays.
Icansmellthefood.Iamsohungry.“Ineedtousethebathroom,”Isay.“Canyoutakeme?”
Shenodsherhead,butshelooksafraidofme.Ifollowheroutofthelittleroomandintothesmallhallway.Whatkindofhospitalhasthetoiletsinaseparateareafromtheirpatients’rooms?ShestandsofftothesidewhileIusetherestroom,wringingherhandsandturninganawfulshadeofpink.
WhenI’mfinished,shemakesthemistakeofturningtowardthedoor.Whensheopensit,Ipullthepieceofpipefrommyhospitalgownandholdittowardherneck.
Shefacesmeagainandherbeadyeyesgrowwidewithfear.
“Dropthekeysandbackupslowly,”Isay.“OrI’llstickthisstraightinyourthroat.”
Shenods.Thekeysclankagainsttheground,andIadvancetowardher,myweaponextendedtowardherneck.Ipushherbackward,intotheroom,andshoveherdownonthebed.Shefallsbackandcriesout.
ThenI’moutthedoor,takingthekeyswithme.Ipullthedoorshutasshefliestowardit,hermouthopeninascream.Westruggleforamoment,hertryingtoyankitopenwhileIgetthekeyintothelockandhearthemetalclick.
MyhandsareshakingasIsortthroughthekeys,tryingtofindtherightonetoopenthenextdoor.Idon’treallyknowwhattoexpectwhenIstepthrough.Ahospitalhallway,nursesanddoctors?Willsomeonebetheretodragmebacktothattinyroom?
No.
There’snowayI’mgoingback.I’llhurtanyonewhotriestostopmefromgettingoutofhere.
Idon’tseeahospitalorstafforanyoneelsewhenIopenthedoor.WhatIseeinsteadisaveryimpressivewinecellar.Dustybottlessitinhundredsoflittleholes.Itsmellsoffermentanddirt.Astaircaserunsuponesideofthecellar.Thereisadooratthetop.
Irunforthestairs,stubbingmytoehardontheconcreteandfeelingthewetbloodrunovermyfoot.Ialmostsliponit,butIcatchontotherailingintime
Thetopofthestairsopenstoakitchen,asinglelightilluminatingthecountersandfloors.Idon’tpausetolookaround.Ineedtofind…adoor!Igrabthehandle,andthistimeit’snotlocked.Icryoutintriumphasitfliesopen.Thenightairhitsmeintheface.Ibreatheitingratefully.
ThenIrun.31
Silas
“Youcan’ttrespass,Silas!”Landonyells.
I’mtryingtoscalethegate,butmyfootkeepsslipping.“Helpmeover,”Iyelldowntohim.
Hewalksuptomeandoffershishands,palmsup,despitethefactthathe’sstillverballytryingtostopmefromclimbingover.Istepintohishandsandhehoistsmehigher,allowingmetograbthebarstowardthetopofthegate.
“I’llbebackintenminutes.Ijustwanttocheckouttheproperty.”Iknowhedoesn’tbelieveawordI’vesaidtoday,soIleaveoutthefactthatIthinkthisCoragirlknowssomething.Ifshe’sinsidethathouse,I’mgoingtoforcehertotalktome.
Ifinallymakeittothetopanddowntheotherside.Whenmyfeethitthedirt,Istandup.“Don’tleaveuntilIgetback.”
Iturnandtakealookatthehouse.It’sabouttwohundredyardsaway,hiddenbehindrowsofWeepingWillowtrees.Theylooklikelongarms,swayingtowardthefrontdoor,coercingmetomoveforward.
Islowlymakemywaydownthepaththatleadstotheporch.It’sabeautifulhouse.IcanseewhyCharliemisseditsomuch.Ilookupatthewindows.Twoofthemarelituponthetopfloor,butthebottomflooriscompletelydark.
I’malmosttotheporchthatextendsacrosstheentirefrontofthehouse.MyheartisracinginmychestsofastthatIcanactuallyhearit.Otherthantheoccasionalinsectnoiseandthepoundingofmypulse,it’scompletelyquietouthere.
Untilit’snot.
Thebarkissoloudandsoclose,itrumblesinmystomachandvibratesthroughmychest.Ican’tseewhereit’scomingfrom.
Ifreezeinmytracks,carefulnottomakeanysuddenmovements.
Adeepgrowlrollsthroughtheairlikethunder.Islowlylookovermyshoulderwithoutturningmybody.
Thedogisstandingbehindme,lipspulledbackinasnarl,teethsowhiteandsharptheylooklikethey’reglowing.
Herearsbackonhishindlegs,andbeforeIcanrunorlookaroundforsomethingtofighthimoff,he’sintheair,lungingtowardme.
Straightformythroat.
Icanfeelhisteethpiercetheskinonthebackofmyhand,andIknowifIhadn’tcoveredmythroat,thoseteethwouldbeinmyjugularrightnow.Themassivestrengthofthisanimalknocksmetotheground.IcanfeelthefleshgivewayonmyhandashethrasheshisheadfromsidetosideandItrytofighthimoff
Butthensomethingslamsintoitorontopofit—awhimperandthenathud.
Andthensilence.
It’stoodarktoseewhatjusthappened.Itakeadeepbreathandtrytostand.
Ilookdownatthedog,andasharppieceofmetalisprotrudingfromhisneck.Bloodispoolingaroundhishead,tintingthegrassthecolorofmidnight.
Andthenastrongscentofflowers…lilies…surroundsmeinarushofwind.
“It’syou.”
Irecognizehervoiceimmediately,eventhoughitcomesoutinawhisper.She’sstandingtotherightofme,herfaceilluminatedbythemoonlight.Tearsarestreakingtheirwaydownhercheeks,andherhandiscuppedoverhermouth.She’swide-eyed,staringatmeinshock.
She’shere.She’salive.
Iwanttotakeherinmyarmsandhugherandtellherit’sokay,thatwe’regoingtofigurethisout.ButshemorethanlikelyhasnoideawhoIam.
“Charlie?”
Sheslowlylowersherhandawayfromhermouth.“MynameisCharlie?”sheasks
Inod.Theterrifiedexpressiononherfaceslowlytransformsintorelief.Shestepsforwardandthrowsherarmsaroundmyneck,pressingherfaceagainstmychest.Sobsbegintorackherbodynow.
“Weneedtoleave,”shesaysthroughhertears.“Wehavetogetoutofherebeforetheyfindme.”
Findher?
Iwrapmyarmsaroundherlongenoughtohugher,andthenItakeherhandandweruntowardthegate.WhenLandonseesCharlie,herushestothegateandbeginstoshakethelocks.Hetriestofindawaytogetusoutsoshedoesn’thavetoclimbover,buthecan’t.
“Usemycar,”Itellhim.“Bendthegate.Wehavetohurry.”
Helooksbackatmycarandthenagainatme.“Youwantmetobreakopenthegate?Silas,thatcarisyourbaby.”
“Idon’tgiveashitaboutthecar!”Iyell.“Weneedout!”
Heactsfast,runningstraighttothecar.Asheclimbsinside,heyells,“Getoutoftheway!”Heputsthecarinreverseandbacksup,thenslamsonthegas
Thesoundofirononmetalisn’tnearlyasloudasthesoundmyheartmakesseeingthecarbeingtorntoshreds.AtleastIwasn’tthatattachedtoit.I’veonlyknownitlessthantwodays.
HehastobackupanddriveforwardtwomoretimestobendtheironenoughforCharlieandmetoslipthrough.Oncewe’reontheothersideofthegate,IopenthebackdoortoLandon’scarandhelpherinside.
“Justleavemycarhere,”Itellhim.“Wecanworryaboutitlater.”
Whenwe’reallinthecarandfinallyheadingawayfromthehouse,Landonpicksuphiscellphone.“I’llcallDadandtellhimyoufoundhersohecannotifythepolice.”
Igrabthecellphonefromhishands.“No.Nopolice.”
Heslamshishandagainstthesteeringwheelinfrustration.“Silas,youhavetotellthemshe’sokay!Thisisridiculous.You’rebothbeingcompletelyridiculouswiththis.”
Iturninmyseatandstareathimpointedly.“Landon,youhavetobelieveme.CharlieandIaregoingtoforgeteverythingweknowinalittleovertwelvehoursfromnow.IhavetogethertoahotelsoIcanexplaineverythingtoher,andthenIneedtimetomakenotes.Ifwenotifythepolice,theymightsplitusupforquestioning.Ineedtobewithherwhenthishappensagain.Idon’tcareifyoudon’tbelieveme,butyou’remybrotherandIneedyoutodothisforme.”
Hedoesn’trespondtomyrequest.We’reattheendoftheroadnow,andIcanseetherollofhisthroatasheswallows,tryingtodecidewhethertoturnleftorright.
“Please,”Iaskhim.“Ijustneeduntiltomorrow.”
Hereleasesapent-upbreathandthenturnsright—theoppositedirectionfromourhomes.Ibreatheasighofrelief.“Ioweyouone.”
“Morelikeamillion,”hemutters.
IlookinthebackseatatCharlie,andshe’sstaringatme,obviouslyterrifiedbywhatshe’shearing.
“Whatdoyoumeanthiswillhappenagaintomorrow?”sheasks,hervoicetrembling.
Icrawlintothebackseatwithherandpullhertome.Shemeltsagainstmychest,andIcanfeelherheartracingagainstmine.“I’llexplaineverythingatthehotel.”
Shenods,andthen,“DidhecallyouSilas?Isthatyourname?”
Hervoiceisraspy,likeshe’sscreamedherselfhoarse.Idon’tevenwanttothinkaboutwhatshe’sbeenthroughsinceyesterday.
“Yeah,”Itellher,rubbingmyhandupanddownherarm.“SilasNash.”
“Silas,”shesayssoftly.“I’vebeenwonderingwhatyournamewassinceyesterday.”
Iimmediatelystiffenandlookdownather.“Whatdoyoumeanyou’vebeenwondering?Howdoyourememberme?”
“Idreamtaboutyou.”
Shedreamtaboutme.
IpullmyshortlistofnotesfrommypocketandaskLandonforapen.Hepullsoneoutofhisconsoleandhandsittome.ImakeanoteaboutthedreamsandhowCharlieknewmewithouthavingmemoryofme.Ialsonotethatmyowndreamaboutherfeltmorelikeamemory.Couldourdreamsbecluestoourpast?
CharliewatchesmeasIwritedowneverythingthathastranspiredinthelasthour.Sheneverquestionsme,though.Ifoldthepaperupandslideitbackintomypocket.
“Sowhat’sthedealwithus?”sheasks.“Arewelike…inloveandshit?”
Ilaughoutloudforthefirsttimesinceyesterdaymorning.“Yeah,”Isay,stilllaughing.“ApparentlyI’vebeeninloveandshitwithyouforeighteenyearsnow.”
ItoldLandontocometoourhotelroomateleventhirtytomorrowmorning.Ifthishappensagain,we’llneedtimetoadjustandreadthenotestogetacclimatedtooursituation.Hewashesitant,buthefinallyagreed.HesaidhewouldtellDadhe’sbeenoutlookingforusalldaywithnoluck.
Ifeelbadformakingpeopleworryuntiltomorrow,butI’mnotabouttoputmyselfinasituationwhereIletheroutofmysightagain.Hell,Iwouldn’tevenlethershutthedoorwhenshesaidshewantedtotakeashower.Awarmshower,sheclarified.
Whenwegottothehotel,ItoldhereverythingIknew.Which,onceIlaiditallout,didn’tseemlikemuch.
Shetoldmewhathadhappenedtohersinceyesterdaymorning.I’mrelieveditwasnothingtooserious,butdisturbedthattheywereholdingherinthebasement.WhywouldTheShrimpandhermotherbekeepingCharlieagainstherwill?Thewomanwasobviouslytryingtomisleadmeyesterdaywhenshesaid,“Theanswerstoyourquestionsliewithsomeonewhoisveryclosetoyou.”
Yeah,I’dsay.Thepersonwithanswerswasveryclosetome.Ameretwofeetaway.
Ifeellikethisinformationisoneofthebestleadswe’vegotteninthepastweek,butIhavenoideawhytheywereholdinghercaptive.That’sthefirstthingIwantustofigureouttomorrow.WhichiswhyI’mensuringournotesaredetailedandprecise,sowecangetanevenbetterheadstart.
I’vealreadymadeanoteforCharlietogotothepolicestationandaskforallherbelongingstobereturnedtoher.Theycan’tkeepthemnowthatshe’snolongermissing,andwedesperatelyneedthoselettersandjournals.Thekeytoeverythingcouldbewrittenintheresomewhere,anduntilit’sallbackinourpossession,we’recompletelystuck
Thebathroomdooropenswider,andIhearherwalkingtowardthebed.I’msittingatthedesk,stillwritingnotes.Iglanceupatherasshesitsonthemattress,herfeetdanglingofftheedgeofthebedasshewatchesme.
Iexpectedafterherordealthatshe’dbemoreshakenup,butshe’stough.ShelistenedintentlywhenIexplainedeverythingIknew,andsheneveroncedoubtedme.Sheeventhrewoutafewtheoriesherself.
“Knowingme,I’llprobablytrytoruntomorrowifIwakeupinahotelroomwithaguyI’venevermet,”shesays.“Ishouldprobablywritemyselfanoteandstickitoverthedoorhandle,tellingmyselftowaituntilatleastnoonbeforeIhightailitoutofhere.”
See?Toughandsmart.
Ihandherapieceofpaperandapen,andshewritesherselfanoteandthenwalksittothehotelroomdoor.
“Weshouldtrytogetsomesleep,”Itellher.“Ifthisdoeshappenagain,weneedtobewellrested.”
Shenodsinagreementandclimbsontothebed.Ididn’tevenbotheraskingfortwobeds.Idon’tknowwhy.NotthatIhaveanyideasabouthowthenight’sgoingtoplayout.IthinkI’mjustextremelyprotectiveofher.Thethoughtofnotknowingshe’srightnexttomemakesmetoouncomfortable,evenifitwouldhavebeenadifferentbedjusttwofeetaway.
Isetthealarmfortenthirtyinthemorning.That’llgiveustimetowakeupandprepare,whilehopefullygivingusagoodsixhoursofsleep.Iturnoutthelightsandcrawlintobedbesideher.
She’sonhersideandI’monmine,andI’mdoingeverythingIcantonotscootoverandspoonher,oratleastputmyarmaroundher.Idon’twanttofreakherout,butitalsosomehowfeelsnaturalformetodothosethings.
Ifluffmypillowandturnitoversothecoldersideisagainstmycheek.Ifacethewallandkeepmybacktohertomakesureshedoesn’tfeeluncomfortablehavingtoshareabedwithme.
“Silas?”shewhispers.
Ilikehervoice.It’scomfortingyetelectric.“Yeah?”
Icanfeelherrollovertofaceme,butmybackisstilltoher.“Idon’tknowwhy,butIfeellikewe’llbothsleepbetterifyouhaveyourarmsaroundme.Nottouchingyouseemsmoreawkwardthantouchingyou.”
Eventhoughit’sdarkintheroom,Itrytofightmysmile.Iimmediatelyrollover,andshescootsbackagainstmychest.Iwrapmyarmaroundherandpullhercloser,herbodycurvingperfectlyintomine,herfeetlockingaroundmyfeet.
This.
ThismusthavebeenwhyIfeltanunwaveringneedtofindher.Becauseuntilthisverysecond,Ididn’tknowCharliewasn’ttheonlyonemissing.Whenshedisappeared,partofmemusthavedisappearedrightalongwithher.BecausethisisthefirsttimeIfeellikeme—likeSilasNash—sincethesecondIwokeupyesterday.
Shefindsmyhandinthedarkandslidesherfingersthroughmine.“Areyouscared,Silas?”
Isigh,hatingthatshe’sfallingasleepthinkingaboutit.“I’mworried,”Itellher.“Idon’twantittohappenagain.ButI’mnotscared,becausethistimeIknowwhereyouare.”
Ifitwerepossibletohearasmile,herswouldbealovesong.“Goodnight,Silas,”shesaysquietly.
Hershouldersriseandfallwhensheletsoutadeepsigh.Herbreathingbeginstotaperoffafteronlyafewminutes,andIknowshe’sasleep.
BeforeIclosemyeyes,shereadjustsherpositionslightlyandIcatchaglimpseofhertattoo.Thesilhouetteoftreesispeekingoutofthetopofthebackofhershirt.
Iwishtherewasaletterthatwouldhavedescribedthenightwegotthesetattoos.Iwouldgiveanythingtohavethatmemoryback—toseewhatitwaslikebetweenuswhenwelovedeachotherenoughtobelieveitwasforever.
MaybeI’lldreamaboutthatnightifIfallasleepthinkingaboutit.Iclosemyeyes,knowingthisisexactlyhowit’ssupposedtobe.CharlieandSilas.
Together.
Idon’tknowwhyweeverstarteddriftingapart,butI’mcertainofonething:I’llneverallowittohappenagain.
Ipressasoftkissintoherhair.SomethingI’veprobablydoneamilliontimes,butthedrunken,one-wingedmothsflutteringaroundinmystomachmakeitfeelliketheveryfirsttime.
“Goodnight,Charliebaby.”32
Charlie
Iwakeuptosunlight.
It’sstreamingthroughthewindowandwarmingmyface.IrollovertolookforSilas,buthispillowisempty.
Foramoment,I’mafraidthathe’sleftme,orthatsomeonehastakenhim.ButthenIheartheclinkofacupandthesoundofhimmoving.Isqueezemyeyesshutgratefully.Icansmellfood.Irollover.
“Breakfast,”hesays.Icrawloutofbedfeelingself-consciousaboutthewayImustlook.Icombmyfingersthroughmyhairandwipethesleepfrommyeyes.Silasissittingatthedesk,sippingoncoffeeandwritingsomethingdownonpaper.
Ipullupachairandseatmyselfacrossfromhimandgrabacroissant,tuckingmyhairbehindmyears.Idon’twanttoeat,butIdoanyway.Hewantsustobewellrestedandfedbeforetheclockstrikes11am.Butmystomachisfullofnerves,thinkingabouthowitfeltwakingupwithnomemorytwodaysago.Idon’twantthattohappenagain.Ididn’tlikeitthen,andIwon’tlikeitthistime.
Everyfewseconds,heglancesupatmeandoureyeslockbeforehegoesbacktowork.Helooksnervoustoo.
Afterthecroissant,Ieatbacon,thentheeggs,thenabagel.IfinishoffSilas’scoffee,drinkmyorangejuice,andpushmychairbackfromthetable.Hesmilesandtapsthesideofhismouth.Ireachupanddustthecrumbsoffmyface,feelingwarmthrisetomycheeks.He’snotlaughingatmethough.Iknowthat.
Hehandsmeatoothbrushstillinitspackageandfollowsmetothebathroom.Webrushourteethtogether,eyeingeachotherinthemirror.Hishairisstandingonend,andmineistangled.It’ssortofcomical.Ican’tbelieveI’minthesameroomastheboyfrommydreams.Itfeelssurreal.
Ilookattheclockasweleavethebathroom.Wehavetenminutestogo.Silashashisnotesready,asdoI.Welaythemoutonthebedsoit’sallcirclingus.Everythingweknowishere.Thistimeisgoingtobedifferent.We’retogether.WehaveLandon.We’regoingtofigurethisthingout.
Wesit,facingeachotheronthebed,ourkneestouching.FromwhereIsit,Icanseetheredlettersofthealarmclockhit10:59.
Oneminute.Myheartisracing.I’msoafraid.
Ibeginthecountdowninmyhead.59…58…57…56…
Icountdowntothirty,andSilassuddenlyleansforward.Hishandscupmyface.Icansmellhim;feelhisbreathonmylips.
Ilosethetime.IhavenoideawhatsecondI’msupposedtobeon.“Nevernever,”hewhispers.Hiswarmth,hislips,hishands.
HepresseshismouthtomineandkissesmedeeplyandI…PART333
Charlie
ThefirstthingInoticeisthepoundinginmychest.It’ssofastit’spainful.Whywouldaheartneedtopoundthishard?Ibreathedeeplythroughmynoseandopenmyeyesontheexhale.
ThenIthrowmyselfback.
Luckily,I’monabedandItumbleontoamattress.Irollawayfromthemanstaringintentlyatme,andlandonmyfeet.Isquintathimwhilebackingup.He’swatchingme,buthehasn’tmoved.Thiseasesthepoundinginmychestalittle.Alittle
He’syoung.Notquiteaman,maybelateteensorearlytwenties.Ihavetheurgetorun.Adoor…Ineedtofindadoor,butifItakemyeyesoffhim,hemay
“Whothehellareyou?”Iask.Itdoesn’tmatterwhoheis.IjustneedtodistracthimwhileIfindawayoutofhere.
He’squietforamomentashesizesmeup.“Iwasabouttoaskyouthesamething,”hesays.
Hisvoicemakesmestopshufflingsidewaysforafewseconds.It’sdeep…calm.Deeplycalm.MaybeI’moverreacting.Imaketoanswerhim—whichwouldbethereasonablethingtodowhensomeoneasksyouwhoyouare—butIcan’t.
“Iaskedyoufirst,”Isay.Whydoesmyownvoicesoundsounfamiliar?
Iraiseahandtomythroatandwrapitaroundmyneck.
“I…”hehesitates.“Idon’tknow?”
“Youdon’tknow?”Isayindisbelief.“Howcouldyounotknow?”
Ispotthedoorandedgecloser,keepingmyeyesonhim.He’sonhiskneesonthebed,buthelookstall.Hisshouldersarewideandpullagainstthet-shirthe’swearing.Ifhecomesatme,IdoubtI’dbeabletofighthimoff.Mywristslooksmall.Looksmall?Whydon’tIknowthatmywristsaresmall?
Thisisit.Ihavetodoit.
Idartforthedoor.It’sonlyafewfeetaway;ifIcangetitopenIcanrunforhelp.IscreamasIrun.It’sbloodcurdling,arealearsore.MyhandwrapsaroundtheknobandIlookbacktoseewhereheis.
He’sinthesamespot,hiseyebrowsraised.“Whyareyouscreaming?”
Istop.“Why…whyaren’tyoucomingafterme?”I’mrightinfrontofthedoor.TechnicallyIcanopenthedoorandrunoutofherebeforehe’sevenoffthebed.Heknowsthat,andIknowthat,sowhyisn’thetryingtostopme?
Hepassesahandoverhisfaceandshakeshishead,sighingdeeply.“What’syourname?”heasks.
Iopenmymouthtotellhimit’snoneofhisbusiness,andthenrealizethatIdon’tknow.Idon’tknowwhatmyfreakingnameis.
Inthatcase…“Delilah.”
“Delilah…?”heasks.
It’sprettydark,butIswearhe’ssmiling.“Yeah…isthatnotgoodenoughforyou?”
Heshakeshishead.“Delilah’sagreatname,”hesays.“Listen…Delilah.Idon’tknowexactlywhatwe’redoinghere,butrightbehindyourheadthere’sapieceofpaperstucktothedoor.Canyoupullthatoffandreadit?”
I’mafraidthatifIturnaroundhe’llattackme.Ireachahandbackwithoutlookingandfeelaround.Ipullthepieceofpaperoffthedoorandbringitinfrontofmyface.
Charlie!Don’topenthisdooryet!Thatguyintheroomwithyou…youcantrusthim.Walkbacktothebedandreadallthenotes.They’llexplaineverything.
“Ithinkit’sforyou,”Itellhim.“IsyournameCharlie?”Ilookbackupattheguyonthebed.He’sreadingsomethingtoo.Helooksupandholdsasmallwhiterectangletowardme.
“Lookatit,”hesays.
Itakeastepforward,andthenanother,andthenanother.It’sadriver’slicense.Istudythepictureandthenhisface.Sameperson.
“IfyournameisSilas,whoisCharlie?”
“Youare,”hesays.
“Iam?”
“Yes.”
Hebendstopickupapieceofnotebookpaperfromthebed.“Itsayssorighthere.”HeholdsthepaperouttomeandIhandhimbackhisdriver’slicense.
“Charlieisn’tagirl’sname,”Isay.Istarttoreadwhat’swrittenonthepagesandeverythingelsefallsaway.Idropheavilytotheedgeofthebedandsitdown.
“Whatthehell?”
TheSilasguyisreadingtoo.Hiseyestraceoverthepaperheholdsinfrontofhisface.Isneaklooksathimwhilehe’sreading,andwhenIdo,myheartbeatsalittlebitfaster.
Ireadmore.Igrowmoreandmoreconfused.Thenotesaresupposedlyfrommeandthisguy,butnothingmakesanysense.AsI’mreading,IgrabanearbypenandcopythepaperIfoundonthedoor,toseeifIreallydidwriteitmyself.
Thehandwritingisaperfectmatch.
“Whoa,whoa,whoa!”Isay.“Thisisnuts!”Iputthepagedownandshakemyhead.Howcananyofthisbetrue?It’slikereadinganovel.Lostmemories,fatherswhobetrayedtheirfamilies,voodoo.MyGod.SuddenlyIfeellikeIwanttobarf.
Whycan’tIrememberwhoIam?WhatIdidyesterday?Ifwhatthesenotessayaretrue…
I’mabouttovoicethiswhenSilashandsmeanothersheetofpaper.
Youonlyhave48hours.Donotfocusonwhyyoucan’trememberthingsorhowweirditallfeels.Focusonfiguringthisoutbeforeyouforgetagain.
Charlie
It’smyhandwritingagain.“I’mconvincing,”Isay.Henods.
“So…wherearewe?”Iturnaroundinafullcircle,noticingthefreshlyeatenfoodonthetable.Silaspointstooneofthoselittlepapertentsonthenightstand.Ahotel.InNewOrleans.Great
I’mwalkingtowardthewindowtotakeapeekoutsidewhenthere’saknockatthehoteldoor.Webothfreezeandlookinthatdirection.
“Whoisit?”Silasyellsatthedoor.
“It’sme!”avoicereplies.
Silasmotionsformetogostandontheothersideoftheroom,awayfromthedoor.Idon’t.
I’veonlyknownmyselfforafewminutes,butIcantellI’mstubborn.
Silasunlatchesthedeadboltandpullsthedooropenjustalittle.Ascruffybrownheadbobsaroundthedoor.
“Hey,”theboysays.“I’mback.11:30sharp,justlikeyousaid.”
Hehashishandsstuffedinhispocketsandhisfaceisredlikehe’sbeenrunning.IlookfromhimtoSilas,andbacktohim.Theylookalike.
“Youknoweachother?”Iask.
Theyounger,lookalikeversionofSilasnodshishead.“We’rebrothers.”HesaysthisloudlywhilepointingfirsttoSilasandthenhimself.“Iamyourbrother,”hesaysagain,lookingatSilas.
“Soyousaid,”Silassayswithaslightgrinonhisface.Heglancesatme,thenbackatLandon.“MindifItakealookatyourID?”
Theboyrollshiseyesbutpullsawalletoutofhisbackpocket.
“Ilikethatcoolrolling-your-eyesthingyouhavegoingon,”Silassaysasheopenstheboy’swallet.
“What’syourname?”Iaskhim.
Hetiltshishead,narrowinghiseyesatme.“I’mLandon,”hetellsme,asifIshouldknowthis.“Thebetter-lookingNashbrother.”
IsmileweaklyasSilaslooksoverLandon’sID.He’sagoodkid.Youcantellbyhiseyes.
“So,”Isay,lookingatSilas.“Youdon’tknowwhoyouare,either?Andwe’retryingtofigurethisallouttogether?Andeveryforty-eighthoursweforgetagain?”
“Yeah,”hesays.“Soundsaboutright.”Thisfeelslikeadream.Notreality.
Andthenithitsme.I’mdreaming.Iburstintolaughter,justasLandonhandsmeasack.Ithinkmylaughtercaughthimbysurprise.
“What’sthis?”Iask,openingthesack.
“Youaskedmetobringyouachangeofclothes.”
IlookdownatthegownI’mwearing,andthenattheclothes.“WhyamIwearingthis?”
Heshrugs.“That’swhatyouwerewearinglastnightwhenSilasfoundyou.”
Silaspushesopenthebathroomdoorforme.Theclotheshavetagsonthem,soIpullthemoffandbegintochange.Acuteblacktopwithlongsleevesandjeansthatfitliketheyweremadeforme.Whogetsnewclothesintheirdreams?
“Ilovethisdream!”Iyellthroughthebathroomdoor.
WhenI’mfinishedchanging,Iswingopenthedoorandclapmyhandstogether.“Allright,boys.Let’sgo.Whereto?”34
Silas
ImakeaquickcheckofthehotelroomasCharlieandLandonfileout.Igrabtheemptytrashsackoutofthesmallcanunderthedeskandshoveallofournotesintoit.WhenI’mcertainIhaveeverything,IfollowCharlieandLandonoutside.
Charlieisstillsmilingwhenwereachthecar.Shehonestlythinksthisisadream,andIdon’thavethehearttotellheritisn’t.It’snotadream.It’sactuallyanightmareandwe’vebeenlivingitformorethanaweeknow.
Landonclimbsinsidethecar,butCharliewaitsformebythebackdoor.“Youwanttorideinthefrontwithyourbrother?”sheasks,formingairquoteswithherfingers.
Ishakemyheadandreacharoundhertoopenthedoor.“No,youcanrideinthefront.”ShebeginstoturnwhenIgrabherarm.Ileandowntoherearandwhisper.“Youaren’tdreaming,Charlie.Thisisreal.Somethingishappeningtousandyouneedtotakeitseriouslysowecanfigureitout,okay?”
WhenIpullback,hereyesarewide.Thesmileisgonefromherfaceandshedoesn’tnod.Shejustgetsinthecarandclosesthedoor.
Iclaimmyspotinthebackseatandpullmyphoneoutofmypocket.
There’saremindersetonit,soIopenit.
Gotothepolicestationfirst.Getthebackpackandreadeverynoteandjournalentryyoucan…asfastasyoucan.
Icloseoutthereminder,knowingI’llgetaboutfivemoreremindersinthenexttwohours.Iknowthis…becauseIremembersettingeverysingleoneofthemlastnight.
IrememberwritingallthenotesinthissmallhoteltrashbagthatIhaveclutchedtightlyinmyhand.
IremembergrabbingholdofCharlie’sfacerightbeforetheclockstruck11:00am.
Irememberwhisperingnevernevertoher,rightbeforeIkissedher.
AndIremembertensecondsafterourlipstouched…shepulledbackandhadnoideawhoIwas.Shehadnomemoryofthelastforty-eighthours.
Yet…Irememberedeverysingleminuteofthelasttwodays.
Ijustcouldn’ttellherthetruth.Ididn’twanttoscareher,andmakingherbelieveIwasinthesamesituationasherseemedtobethemorecomfortingoption.
Idon’tknowwhyIdidn’tforgetthistime,orwhyshedid.Ishouldberelievedthatwhateverthehellhasbeengoingonwithusseemstobeoverforme,butI’mnotrelievedatall.I’mdisappointed.Iwouldratherhavelostmymemoryagainwithherthantohaveherbealoneinthis.Atleastwhenwewereinittogether,weknewitwassomethingwecouldworkouttogether.
Whatseemedtobeapatternhasnowbeenbroken,andIfeellikethisjustmakesitevenmoredifficulttofigureout.WhywasIsparedthistime?Whywasshenot?WhydoIfeellikeIcan’tbehonestwithher?HaveIalwaysshoulderedthismuchguilt?
Istilldon’tknowwhoIam,orwhoIusedtobe.Ionlyhavethelastforty-eighthourstogoby,whichisn’tmuch.Butit’sstillbetterthanthehalfhourofmemoriesCharliehas.
Ishouldjustbehonestwithher,butIcan’t.Idon’twantthistoscareher,andIfeelliketheonlycomfortshehasrightnowisknowingshe’snotaloneinthis.
Landonkeepsglancingbackatme,andthenlookingather.Iknowhethinkswe’velostourminds.Wesortofdidloseourminds,butnotinthewayhe’sthinking.
Ilikehim.Iwasn’tsureifhe’dshowupthismorninglikeIaskedhimto,sincehe’sstilldoubtful.Ilikethathedoubtsus,buthisloyaltytometrumpshisreasoning.I’msureveryfewpeoplehavethatquality.
We’remostlyquietonthewaytothepolicestation,untilCharlieturnstoLandonandglaresathim.
“Howdoyouknowwearen’tlyingtoyou?”sheaskshim.“Whywouldyouevenhumorusunlessyouhavesomethingtodowithwhat’shappenedtous?”She’smoresuspiciousofhimthansheisofme.
Landongripsthesteeringwheelandglancesatmeintherearviewmirror.“Idon’tknowthatyoubotharen’tlying.ForallIknow,you’regettingakickoutofthis.Ninetypercentofmethinksyoutwoarefullofshitandhavenothingbettertodo.Fivepercentofmethinksmaybeyou’retellingthetruth.”
“That’sonlyninety-fivepercent,”Ipipeinfromthebackseat.
“That’sbecausetheotherfivepercentofmethinksI’mtheonewhohasgonecrazy,”hesays.
Charlielaughsatthat.
WepullintothepolicestationandLandonfindsaparkingspot.Beforeheturnsoffthecar,Charliesays,“Justtobeclear,whatdoIneedtosay?ThatI’mhereformybackpack?”
“I’llgoinwithyou,”Itellher.“ThenotesaideveryonethoughtyouweremissingandthatIwassuspectedinyourdisappearance.Ifwegointogether,they’llhavenoreasontopursueanythingfurther.”
Shegetsoutofthecar,andaswe’rewalkingintothepolicestation,shesays,“Whydon’twejusttellthemwhat’sgoingon?Thatwecan’trememberanything?”
Ipausewithmyhandonthedoor.“Because,Charlie.Wespecificallywarnedourselvesinthenotesnottodothat.I’drathertrusttheversionsofourselveswedon’trememberthantrustpeoplewhodon’tknowusatall.”
Shenods.“Goodpoint,”shesays.Shepausesandcocksherheadtotheside.“Iwonderifyou’resmart.”
Hercommentmakesmechuckle.
There’snooneinthelobbyareawhenwewalkin.Iapproachaglasswindow.There’snoonebehindthedesk,butthere’saspeaker,soIpressthebuttonnexttoit,hearingitcrackletolife.
“Hello?”Iask.“Anyonehere?”
“Coming!”Ihearawomanyell.Afewsecondslater,sheappearsbehindthedesk.HereyesgrowalarmedwhensheseesCharlieandme.
“Charlie?”sheasks.
Charlienods,wringingherhandstogethernervously.“Yeah,”shesays.“I’mhereformystuff.Abackpack?”
ThewomanstaresatCharlieforafewsecondsandhereyesdroptoCharlie’shands.ThewayCharlieisstandingmakesherlooknervous…likeshe’shidingsomething.Thewomantellsusshe’llgoseewhatshecando,andshedisappearsaroundthedeskagain.
“Trytorelax,”IwhispertoCharlie.“Don’tmakeitlooklikeIforcedyoutodothis.They’realreadysuspiciousofme.”
Charliefoldsherhandsoverherchest,nods,andthenbringsherthumbtohermouth.Shebeginstobitethepadofit.“Idon’tknowhowtolookrelaxed,”shesays.“I’mnotrelaxed.I’mconfusedashell.”
Thewomandoesn’treturn,butadoortoourleftopensandauniformedofficerappearsinthedoorway.HelooksoveratCharlieandthenme.Hemotionsforustofollowhim.
Hewalksintoanofficeandproceedstositbehindhisdesk.Henodsatthetwochairsoppositehim,sowebothtakeaseat.Hedoesn’tlookatallpleasedwhenheleansforwardandclearshisthroat.
“Doyourealizehowmanypeoplewehavelookingforyourightnow,younglady?”
Charliestiffens.Icanfeeltheconfusionrolloffofher.Iknowshe’sstilltryingtograspwhat’shappenedinthelasthour,soIanswerforher.
“We’rereallysorry,”Isaytohim.HiseyesremainonCharlieforafewseconds,andthenslidetome.“Wegotinafight.Shedecidedtodisappearforafewdaystoprocesseverything.Shedidn’tknowanyonewouldbelookingforher,orthatshewouldbereportedmissing.”
Theofficerlooksboredwithme.“Iappreciateyourabilitytoanswerforyourgirlfriend,butI’dreallyliketohearwhatMs.Wynwoodhastosay.”Hestands,toweringoverus,andmotionstowardthedoor.“Waitoutside,Mr.Nash.I’dliketospeaktoheralone.”
Shit.
Idon’twanttoleaveheralonewithhim.Ihesitate,butCharlieplacesareassuringhandonmyarm.“It’sfine.Waitoutside,”shesays.Ilookatherclosely,butsheseemsconfident.Istandupalittletooforcefullyandthechairmakesanawfulscreechingsoundasitscootsbackward.Idon’tlookattheofficeragain.Iwalkout,closehisdoorbehindme,andbeginpacingtheemptylobby.
Charlieemergesafewminuteslaterwithabackpackslungoverhershoulderandasmuggrinonherface.Ismilebackather,knowingInevershouldhavebelievedthathernerveswouldgetthebestofher.Thisisthefourthtimeshe’sstartedfromscratch,andsheseemstohavemadeitthroughthefirstfewtimesokay.Thistimeshouldn’tbeanydifferent.
Shedoesn’tsitinthefrontseatthistime.Whenweapproachthecar,shesays,“Let’sbothsitinthebacksowecangothroughallthisstuff.”
Landonisalreadyannoyedthathethinkswe’vecarriedoutwhathethinksisaprankforsolong,andnowwe’reforcinghimtochaufferusaround.
“Wheretonow?”Landonasks.
“Justdriveusarounduntilwefigureoutwherewewanttogonext,”Isay.
Charlieunzipsthebackpackandbeginsriflingthroughit.“Ithinkweshouldgototheprison,”shesays.“Myfathermighthavesomesortofexplanation.”
“Again?”Landonasks.“SilasandItriedthatyesterday.Theywouldn’tletusspeaktohim.”
“ButI’mhisdaughter,”shesays.Sheglancesoveratmeasifshe’ssilentlyaskingformyapproval.
“IagreewithCharlie,”Isay.“Let’sgoseeherfather.”
Landonsighsheavily.“Ican’twaituntilthisisover,”hesays,makingasharprightoutofthedrivewayofthepolicestation.“Ridiculous,”hemutters.Hereachesfortheradioandturnsupthevolume,drowningusout.
Webeginpullingitemsoutofthebackpack.TherearetwoseparatestacksIremembermakingacoupleofdaysagowhenIfirstbegangoingthroughtheseitems.Oneofthemisusefultous,oneisnot.IhandCharliethejournalsandIbeginsortingthroughletters,hopingshedoesn’tnoticeI’mskippingsomeoftheonesIknowI’vealreadyread.
“Allthesejournalsarefull,”shesays,flippingthroughthem.“IfIwrotethismuchandthisoften,wouldn’tIhaveonethat’scurrent?Ican’tfindonefromthisyear.”
Shemakesagoodpoint.WhenIwasinherattictakingallofthisstuff,Ididn’tnoticeanythingthatlookedlikeshewasactivelyusingit.Ishrug.“Maybewemisseditwhenwegrabbedallofthese.”
Sheleansforwardandtalksoverthemusic.“Iwanttogotomyhouse,”shesaystoLandon.Shefallsbackagainsttheseat,clutchingthebackpacktoherchest.Shedoesn’tcontinuegoingthroughthelettersorjournals.Shejustquietlystaresoutthewindowwhileweapproachherneighborhood.
Whenwearriveatherhouse,shehesitatesbeforeopeningthecardoor.“ThisiswhereIlive?”sheasks.
I’msureshewasn’texpectingthis,yetIcan’treassureherorwarnheraboutwhatshe’llfindinsidebecauseshestillbelievesIlostmymemories,too.
“Doyouwantmetogoinsidewithyou?”
Sheshakesherhead.“That’sprobablynotagoodidea.Ournotessaidyoushouldstayawayfrommymother.”
“True,”Isay.“Well,thenotessaidwefoundallthisstuffinyourattic.Maybecheckyourbedroomthistime.Ifyouhadajournalyouactivelywrotein,it’sprobablynearwhereyousleep.”
Shenodsandthenexitsthecarandbeginswalkingtowardherhouse.Iwatchuntilshedisappearsinside.
IcanseeLandonwatchingmesuspiciouslyintherearviewmirror.Iavoideyecontactwithhim.Iknowhealreadydoesn’tbelieveus,butifhefindsoutIhaveanymemoryofthelastforty-eighthours,he’lldefinitelythinkI’mlying.Andthenhe’llstophelpingus.
IfindaletterIhaven’treadyetandbegintoopenitwhenthebackdooropens.CharlietossesaboxinsidethecarandI’mrelievedtoseeshefoundmorestuff,includinganotherjournal.Sheslidesintothecarwhenthefrontdooropens.IglanceinthefrontseattoseeJanettejoiningtheparty.
Charlieleansoveruntilourshouldersaretouching.“Ithinkshe’smysister,”shewhispers.“Shedoesn’tseemtolikemeverymuch.”
Janette’scardoorslamsshutandsheimmediatelyturnsaroundinherseatandglaresatme.“Thanksforlettingmeknowmysisterisalive,asshole.”ShefacesthefrontagainandIcatchCharliesuppressingalaugh.
“Areyouserious?”Landonsays,staringacrossthefrontseatatJanette.
Hedoesn’tseematallpleasedthatJanetteistaggingalong.
Sherollsherheadandgroans.“Oh,comeon,”shesaystoLandon.“It’sbeenayearsincewebrokeup.It’snotgoingtokillyoutositinthesamecarwithme.Besides,I’mnotstayinghomealldaywithLocoLaura.”
“Holyshit,”Charliemutters.Sheleansforward.“Youtwousedtodate?”
Landonnods.“Yeah.Butitwasaloooongtimeago.Anditlastedlikeaweek.”Hethrowsthecarinreverseandbeginsbackingout.
“Twoweeks,”Janettespecifies.
Charlielooksatmeandraisesaneyebrow.“Andtheplotthickens…”shesays
IpersonallythinkJanette’spresencewillbemoreintrusivethanhelpful.AtleastLandonknowswhat’sgoingonwithus.Janettedoesn’tseemlikeshewouldtakesomethinglikethisverywell.
Shepullsatubeoflip-glossoutofherpurseandbeginsapplyingitinthepassengermirror.“Sowherearewegoing?”
“ToseeBrett,”Charlierepliesnonchalantlyassheriflesthroughtheboxinthebackseat.
Janettespinsaroundinherseat.“Brett?AsinDad?We’regoingtoseeDad?”
Charlienodsasshepullsoutherjournal.“Yes,”shesays.ShelooksupatJanette.“Ifyouhaveaproblemwiththat,wecantakeyoubackhome.”
Janetteclampshermouthshutandslowlyturnsbackaround.“Idon’thaveaproblemwithit,”shesays.“ButI’mnotgettingoutofthecar.Idon’twanttoseehim.”
Charlieraisesaneyebrowatmeandthensettlesbackinherseat,openingthejournal.Afoldedletterfallsoutandshebeginstoopenthatonefirst.Sheinhalesabreathandthenlooksatmeandsays,“Well.Herewego,Silasbaby.Let’sgettoknoweachother.”Sheopenstheletterandbeginstoread.
IopenaletterI’veyettoreadandsettleintomyseataswell.“Herewego,Charliebaby.”35
Charlie
Charliebaby,Mymomsawmytattoo.IthoughtI’dbeabletohideitforacoupleofyears,butdammitifIwasn’ttakingoffthebandagethismorningwhenshewalkedintomyroomwithoutknocking.
Shehasn’twalkedintomyroomwithoutknockinginthreeyears!IthinksheassumedIwasn’thome.YoushouldhaveseenherfacewhensherealizedwhatIhaddone.Thetattooalonewasbadenough.Ican’timaginewhatwouldhavehappenedhadsherealizeditwasarepresentationofyou.
Thankyouforthat,bytheway.Hiddenmeaningsofournameswasamuchbettersuggestionthanactuallytattooingeachother’snames.Itoldherthestrandofpearlswasasymbolofthepearlygatesofheaven,orsomeshitlikethat.Afterthatexplanation,shecouldn’targuemuch,seeingasshe’sinchurcheverytimethedoorsareopen.
ShewantedtoknowwhodidmytattoosinceI’monlysixteen,butIrefusedtotellher.I’msurprisedshedidn’tguessbecauseI’mprettysureitwasjustlastmonththatImentionedAndrew’solderbrotherwasatattooartist.
Anyway.Shewasupset,butIsworetoherIwouldn’tgetanotherone.ShetoldmetomakesureInevertakeoffmyshirtinfrontofDad.
I’mstillalittleshockedwebothwentthroughwithit.IwashalfkiddingwhenIsaidweshoulddoit,butwhenyouseemedexcited,IrealizedhowseriousIwas.Iknowpeoplesaytonevergetatattooinhonorofsomeoneyou’reinarelationshipwith,andIknowwe’reonlysixteen,butIjustdon’tseeanythingeverhappeninginthislifethatcouldmakemenotwantyouallovermyskin.
I’llneverloveanyonelikeIloveyou.Andiftheworstistoeverhappenandwedogrowapart,I’llneverregretthistattoo.You’vebeenahugepartofmylifeforthesixteenyearsI’vebeenalive,andwhetherweenduptogetherintheendornot,Iwanttorememberthispartofmylife.Andmaybethesetattoosweremoreofacommemorativethingthananassumptionthatwe’llspendtherestofourlivestogether.Eitherway,I’dhopethatfifteenyearsfromnow,wewilllookatthesetattoosandbegratefulforthischapterinourlives,andtherewon’tbeanounceofregret.Whetherwe’retogetherornot.
Iwillsay,Ithinkyou’remuchtougherthanme.Iwasexpectingtohavetobetheonetocalmyoudownandreassureyouthatthepainwasonlytemporary,butitturnedouttobetheotherwayaround.Maybeminehurtmorethanyours.??
Okay,it’slate.I’mabouttocallyouandtellyougoodnight,buttruetoform,Ihadtogetallmythoughtsouttoyouinaletterfirst.IknowI’vesaiditbefore,butIlovethatwestillwriteletterstoeachother.Textsgetdeletedandconversationsfade,butIswearI’llhaveeverysingleletteryou’veeverwrittenmeuntilthedayIdie.#SnailMailForever
Iloveyou.Enoughtocamouflageyouintomyskin.
Neverstop.Neverforget.
Silas
IglanceacrosstheseatatSilas,buthe’sengrossedinhisownreading.Iwouldliketoseethistattooinperson,butIdon’tfeelcomfortableenoughyettoaskhimtotakeoffhisshirt.
IflipthroughmorelettersuntilIfindoneI’vewrittentohim.I’mcurioustoseeifI’mhalfasinloveasheseemstobe.
Silas,Ican’tstopthinkingabouttheothernightwhenwekissed.Oryourletterexplaininghowyoufeltaboutit.
I’dneverkissedanyonebefore.Ididn’tclosemyeyes.Iwastooscared.Inmoviestheyclosetheireyes,butIcouldn’tmakemyselfdoit.Iwantedtoknowifyoureyeswereclosed,andwhatyourlipslookedlikewhentheypressedagainstmine.AndIwantedtoknowwhattimeitwassoIcouldalwaysremembertheexactmomentwehadourfirstkiss(itwas11o’clock,bytheway).Andyoukeptyoureyesclosedtheentiretime.
AfterIleft,IwenthomeandIjuststaredatthewallforanhour.Icouldstillfeelyourmouthonmineevenifyouweren’tthereanymore.ItwascrazyandIdon’tknowifthat’ssupposedtohappen.AndI’msorryIignoredallyourphonecallsafterthat.Ididn’tmeantoworryyou,Ijustneededtime.Youknowthataboutme.Ihavetoprocesseverything,andIhavetodoitalone.Andyoukissingmewassomethingthatdefinitelyneededprocessing.I’vewantedthistohappenforalongtime,butIknowourparentsaregoingtothinkwe’recrazy.I’veheardmymothersaypeoplecan’treallybeinlovewhenyou’reourage,butIdon’tthinkthat’strue.Adultsliketopretendthatourfeelingsaren’tasbigandimportantastheirs—thatwe’retooyoungtoreallyknowwhatwewant.ButIthinkwhatwewantissimilartowhattheywant.Wewanttofindsomeonewhobelievesinus.Whowilltakeoursideandmakeusfeellesslonely.
I’msoscaredthatsomethingwillhappenanditwillchangethefactthatyou’remybestfriend.Webothknowtherearealotofpeoplewhocallthemselvesyourfriendsandthendon’tactlikeit,butyou’veneverbeenthatway.I’mtotallylikerambling.Ireallylikeyou,Silas.Likesomuch.Maybemorethangreenapplecottoncandy,andthepinkNerds,andevenSprite!Yeah,youheardme.
Charlie
It’ssweet.Iwassweet—agirlfallingforaguyforthefirsttime.IwishIcouldrememberwhatthefirstkissfeltlike.Iwonderifwedidmorethanjustkiss.Iflipthroughmoreletters,scanningovereachofthem.Icometoonewithawordinitthatcatchesmyeye.
DearSilas,I’vebeentryingtowritethisletterforlikethirtyminutesandIdon’tknowhowtosayanyofit.IguessIjusthavetofindaway,huh?YoualwayssaythingssowellandI’malwaysthetongue-tiedone.
Ican’tstopthinkingaboutwhatwedidtheothernight.Thatthingyoudowithyourtongue…itmakesmewanttopassoutjustthinkingaboutit.AmIbeingtoohonest?Showingmycards?That’swhatmydadalwayssaystome.“Don’tshowpeopleallofyourcards,Charlie.”
Idon’thaveanycardsthatIwanttohidefromyou.IfeellikeIcantrustyouwithallofmysecrets.Silas,Ican’twaitforyoutokissmelikethatagain.LastnightafteryouleftIhadalloftheseirrational,angryfeelingstowardeverygirlontheplanet.Iknowthat’sstupid,butIdon’twantyoutoeverdothatthingwithyourtonguetoanyoneelse.Idon’tfeellikeI’majealousperson,butI’mjealousofanyoneyou’vewantedbeforeme.Idon’twantyoutothinkI’mcrazy,Silas,butifyoueverlookatanothergirllikeyoulookatme,I’mgoingtogougeoutyoureyeswithaspoon.I’dalsopossiblymurderherandframeitonyou.So,unlessyouwanttobeablindprisonmate,I’dsuggestyoukeepyoureyesonme.Seeyouatlunch!
Loveyou!
Charlie
IblushatthatoneandsneakaglanceatSilas.Sowe’ve…I’vehad…
Istickthenoteundermylegsohecan’treadthatone.Howembarrassing.Doingthatwithsomeoneandnotrememberingit.Especiallysincehe’sapparentlysogoodatthatthingwithhistongue.Whatthing?Isneakanotherlookathim,andthistimehe’slookingatmetoo.Iimmediatelyfeelhotallover.
“What?Whydoyouhavethatlookonyourface?”
“Whatlook?”Iask,lookingaway.It’sthenIrealizethatIdon’tknowwhatmyfacelookslike.AmIevennicetolookat?IdigthroughthebackpackuntilIfindmywallet.ItakeoutmyIDandstareatit.I’m…okay.Inoticemyeyesfirst,becausetheylookjustlikeJanette’s.ButIfeellikeJanettemightactuallybealittleprettierthanme.“DoyouthinkwelookmorelikeMomorDad?”IaskJanette.
Shekicksherfeetuponthedashandsays,“LikeMom,thankGod.IwoulddieifIwasbornaspaleasDad.”
Isinkintomyseatalittlewiththatanswer.Iwashopingwelookedmorelikeourdad,sowhenIseehiminalittlewhile,he’llfeelatinybitfamiliar.Ipickupthejournal,wantingtodistractmyselffromthefactthatIremembernothingaboutthepeoplewhogavelifetome.
IfliptotheverylastdayIwroteinmydiary.It’sprobablythethingIshouldhavereadfirst,butIwantedsomecontext.Therearetwoentriesforthisday,soIstartwiththefirstone.
FRIDAY,OCTOBER3RD
Dayyourdoggetsrunover.
Dayfathergoestoprison.
Dayyouhavetomoveoutofyourchildhoodhomeandintoadump.
Dayyourmotherstopslookingatyou.
Dayyourboyfriendpunchessomeone’sdad.
Alltheshittiestdaysofmylife.Idon’tevenwanttotalkaboutit.Bynextweekeveryoneelsewillbe,though.Everythingjustkeepsgettingworse.Iamtryingsohardtofixthings,makethemright.Keepmyfamilyoutofthegutter,eventhoughthat’sexactlywherewe’reheading.IfeellikeI’mswimmingagainstthisbigwaveandthere’snowaytowin.Peopleatschoolarelookingatmedifferently.Silassaysit’sallinmyhead,butit’seasierforhimtobelievethat.He’stheonewiththefather.Hislifeisstillintact.Maybeit’snotfairofmetosaythis,butIgetsomadwhenhetellsmeeverythingisgoingtobeallright—becauseit’snot.Clearlyit’snot.Hethinkshisfatherisinnocent.IDONOT!HowcanIbewithsomeonewhosefamilydespisesme?Mydadisn’taroundforthemtohatesotheytransferreditallonme.Myfamilymadetheirpreciousfamilylookbad.Mydadisrottinginprisonwhiletheywalkaroundandcarryonwiththeirlives,likehedoesn’tevenmatter.Whattheydidtomyfamilymattersandeverythingisnotgoingtobeallright.MydadhatesSilas.HowcanIbewithsomeonewhoistiedtothepersonwholockedhimup?Itmakesmefeelsosick.Despiteallofthis,it’ssohardformetowalkawayfromhim.WhenIgetangryhesaysalltherightthings.ButIknowdeepinmyheartthatthisisn’tgoodforeitherofus.Silasissostubbornthough.EvenifItriedtobreakupwithhimhewouldn’tletme.It’slikeachallengetohim.
IactlikeIdon’tcare?Heactslikehedoesn’tcare.Istartcheatingonhimwithhismortalenemy?
Hestartscheatingonmewithhismortalenemy’ssister.
HehearsI’matthedinerwithfriends?Heshowsupwithhisfriends.
We’revolatiletogether.Weweren’talwayslikethis.Itallstartedwheneverythingcametoaheadwithourfathers.Beforethat,ifanyonewouldhavetoldmeI’ddoeverythingIcouldtogetridofhimoneday,Iwouldhavelaughedintheirface.Whowouldhavethoughtthatourlivesthatfitsoperfectlytogetherwould—almostovernight—becomeunrecognizable?
Silas’sandCharlie’slivesdon’tfittogetheranymore.It’stoohardnow.It’stakingmoreeffortthaneitherofusiscapableof.
Idon’twanthimtohateme.Ijustdon’twanthimtolovemeanymore.
So…I’vebeenactingdifferent.It’snotthathardtoactdifferent,becauseIactuallyamdifferentafterallofthis.ButI’vebeenlettinghimseeitinsteadofhidingit.I’mmean.Ididn’tknowIwascapableofbeingthismean.AndI’mdistant.AndI’mlettinghimseemeflirtwithotherguys.Afewhoursago,hepunchedBrian’sdadwhenheoverheardhimtellanothercustomerthatIwasBrian’sgirlfriend.I’mnotsurewe’veevergotteninthatbigofafightbefore.Iwantedhimtoyellatme.IwantedhimtoseemeforwhatIreallyam.
Iwantedhimtoseethathecandosomuchbetter.
Instead,rightbeforetheythrewhimoutofthediner,hetookasteptowardme.Hebentuntilhismouthwasatmyearandhewhispered,“Why,Charlie?Whydoyouwantmetohateyou?”
Mysobcaughtinmythroatashewaspulledawayfromme.Heheldmygazeashewasescortedoutside.Thelookinhiseye—itwasoneI’veneverseenbefore.Itwasfullof…indifference.Asifhefinallystoppedhavinghope.
AndbasedonthetextIjustreceivedfromhimbeforeIbeganthisjournalentry…Ithinkhe’sfinallydonefightingforus.Histextsaid,“I’monmywaytoyourhouse.Youowemeaproperbreak-up.”
He’sfinallyfedupwithitall.Andweareover.Reallyover.AndIshouldbeglad,becausethiswasmyplanallalong,butinsteadIcan’tstopcrying.36
Silas
Charliehasbeenextremelyquietasshereads.She’snottakingnotesortellingmeanythingthatmightbeofusetous.Atonepoint,Isawherswipeherhandunderhereye,butifitwasatear,shehiditwell.Itmademecuriouswhatshewasreading,soIpeekedoverandtriedtoreadfromthejournal.
Itwasaboutthenightwebrokeup.Whathappenedbetweenusjustamatterofaweekorsoago.Iwantnothingmorethantoscootoverandreadtherestofitwithher,butinstead,shetellsLandonshehastopee.
Hepullsoveratagasstationaboutanhourfromtheprison.JanetteremainsinthecarandCharliesticksbymysideasweenterthestore.Ormaybeit’smewhosticksbyherside.I’mnotsure.Thedesiretoprotectherhasn’tleftmeatall.Ifanything,I’vebecomemoreinvolved.ThefactthatIremembereverythingfromthelasttwo—almostthree—dayshasmadeitharderformetoforgetthatI’mnotsupposedtoknowher.Orloveher.ButallIcandoisthinkaboutthekissfromthismorning—whenwethoughtweweren’tgoingtoremembereachotherwhenitwasover.Thewaysheallowedmetokissherandholdheruntilshewasn’tCharlieanymore.
IttookallIhadnottolaughwhenshepretendedsheknewhername.Delilah?Evenwithouthermemory,she’sstillthesame,stubbornCharlie.It’samazinghowafewpiecesofherpersonalitystillshinethroughtodayjustastheydidlastnight.IwonderifI’matallsimilartowhoIwasbeforeallthisstarted.
Iwaitforheruntilsheemergesfromtherestroom.WewalktotherefrigeratedcasesofdrinksandIbegintoreachforawater.ShegrabsataPepsiandIalmostcatchmyselftellingherthatIknowsheprefersCokebasedonsomethingIreadinoneofthelettersyesterday,butI’mnotsupposedtorememberyesterday.Wetakeourdrinkstotheregisterandsetthemdown.
“IwonderifIevenlikePepsi,”shewhispers.
Ilaugh.“That’swhyIgotwater.Playingitsafe.”
Shegrabsabagofpotatochipsfromadisplayandplacesthemonthecounterforthecashiertoscan.ThenshegrabsabagofCheetos.ThenabagofFunyuns.ThenDoritos.Shejustkeepspilingchipsontothecounter.I’meyeingherwhensheglancesoveratmewithashrug.“Justplayingitsafe,”shesays.
Bythetimewereturntothecar,we’recarryingtendifferentbagsofchipsandeightdifferenttypesofsodas.JanetteshootsCharliealookwhensheseesallthefood.“Silasisreallyhungry,”shesaystoJanette.
Landonisseatedbehindthewheel,hiskneebouncingupanddown.Hedrumshisfingersonthesteeringwheelandsays,“Silas,yourememberhowtodrive,right?”
Ifollowhisgazeandseetwopolicecarspulledoveronthesideoftheroadinfrontofus.We’llhavetopassthemtogetout,butI’mnotsurewhythisismakingLandonnervous.Charlieisnolongermissing,sowehavenoreasontobeparanoidofthepolice.
“Whycan’tyoudrive?”Iaskhim.
Heturnsaroundtofaceme.“Ijustturnedsixteen,”hesays.“Ionlyhaveapermit.Ihaven’tappliedformylicenseyet.”
“Great,”Janettemutters.
Inthegrandschemeofthings,drivingwithoutalicenseisn’treallyapriorityonmylistofthingstoworryabout.
“Ithinkwehavebiggerissuesthangettingaticket,”Charliesays,voicingmythoughtsaloud.“Silasdoesn’tneedtodrive.He’shelpingmesortthroughallthisshit.”
“Goingthrougholdlovelettersishardlyimportant,”Janettesays.“IfLandongetsaticketwithapermit,they’lldenyhislicense.”
“Don’tgetpulledover,then,”Isaytohim.“Westillhaveanothertwohourstogoandathree-hourdriveback.Ican’twastefivehoursjustbecauseyou’reworriedaboutyourlicense.”
“Whyareyoutwoactingsoweird?”Janettesays.“Andwhyareyoureadingoldloveletters?”
CharlieisstaringdownatthejournalwhenshegivesJanetteahalfheartedresponse.“We’reexperiencinganunusualcaseofamnesiaandcan’trememberwhoweare.Idon’tevenknowwhoyouare.Turnaroundandmindyourownbusiness.”
Janetterollshereyesandhuffs,thenturnsaround.“Weirdos,”shemutters.
Charliegrinsatmeandthenpointsdownatthejournal.“Here,”shesays.“I’mabouttoreadtheverylastentry.”
ImovetheboxthatseparatesusandIscootclosertohersoIcanreadthelastentrywithher.“Isitweird?Sharingyourjournalwithme?”
Shegivesherheadaslightshake.“Notreally.Ikindoffeellikewearen’tthem.”
FRIDAY,OCTOBER3RD
It’sonlybeenfifteenminutessinceIlastwroteinthisjournal.AssoonasIclosedit,Silastextedmeandsaidhewasoutside.Sincemymotherdoesn’tallowhiminourhouseanymore,Iwalkedoutsidetohearwhathehadtosay.
HecaughtmybreathandIinstantlyhatedmyselfforit.ThewayhewasleaningagainsthisLandRover—hisfeetcrossedattheankles,hishandsshovedinhisjacketpockets.Ashiverranoverme,butIblameditonthefactthatIwasinapajamatopwithspaghettistraps.
Hewouldn’tevenlookupwhenIwalkedtohiscar.Ileanedagainstitnexttohimandfoldedmyarmsovermychest.Westoodthereforseveralmoments,suspendedinsilence.
“CanIjustaskyouonequestion?”hesaid.
Hekickedoffhiscarandstoodinfrontofme.Istiffenedwhenhisarmscameupbesidemyheadandcagedmein.Hedippedhisheadacoupleofinchesuntilwewereeyetoeye.Thepositionwewereinwasnothingnew.We’dstoodlikethatamilliontimesbefore,butthistimehewasn’tlookingatmelikehewantedtokissme.ThistimehewaslookingatmelikehewastryingtofigureoutwhointhehellIwas.Hewasscrollingovermyfacelikehewaslookingatacompletestranger.
“Charlie,”hesaid,hisvoiceraspy.Hepulledhisbottomlipinandbitdownonitwhilehecomposedwhathewasabouttosaynext.Hesighedandthenclosedhiseyes.“Areyousurethisiswhatyouwant?”
“Yes.”
Hiseyespoppedopenatthesteadfastnessinmyresponse.Myheartachedforwhathewastryingtohideinhisexpression.Theshock.Therealizationthathewasn’tgoingtotalkmeoutofit.
Hetappedhisfistonthecartwiceandthenshovedhimselfawayfromme.Iimmediatelysteppedaroundhim,wantingtogoinsidemyhousewhileIstillhadthestrengthtolethimleave.IkeptremindingmyselfwhyIwasdoingthis.Wearen’tagoodmatch.Hethinksmyfatherisguilty.Ourfamilieshateeachother.We’redifferentnow.
WhenIreachedmyfrontdoor,Silassaidonelastthingbeforegettingintohiscar.
“Iwon’tmissyou,Charlie.”
Hiscommentshockedme,soIturnedandlookedathim.
“I’llmisstheoldyou.I’llmisstheCharlieIfellinlovewith.Butwhoeverthisisyou’returninginto…”Hewavedhishandflippantlyupanddownmybody.“IsnotsomeoneI’mgoingtomiss.”
Heclimbedinsidehiscarandslammedhisdoor.Hebackedoutofthedrivewayandpeeledaway,histiresscreechingagainstthestreetsofmyslumneighborhood.
Andnowhe’sgone.
Asmallpieceofmeisangrythathedidn’ttryharder.Mostofmeisrelievedthatit’sfinallyover.
Allthistime,he’sdoneeverythinghecantorememberhowthingsusedtobebetweenus.He’sconvincedhimselfthattheycanbethatwayagainoneday.
Whilehespendsallofhistimetryingtoremember…Ispendallofmytimetryingtoforget.
Idon’twanttorememberhowitfeelstokisshim.Idon’twanttorememberhowitfeelstolovehim.
IwanttoforgetSilasNash,andeverythinginthisworldthatremindsmeofhim37
Charlie
TheprisonisnotwhatIexpected.AndwhatwasIexpectingexactly?Somethingdarkandrotting,setacrossabackdropofgrayskiesandbarrenland?Idon’trememberwhatIlooklike,butIdorememberwhataprisonshouldlooklike.IlaughasIclimboutofthecarandsmoothoutmyclothes.Theredbrickisbrightagainstthebluesky.Thereareflowersgrowingalongthegrass,dancingalittlewhenthebreezehitsthem.Theonlythinguglyaboutthissettingisthebarbedwirethatrunsacrossthetopofthefence.
“Thisdoesn’tlooksobad,”Isay.
Silas,whogetsoutbehindme,raisesaneyebrow.“You’renottheonelockedinthere.”
Ifeelwarmthrisetomycheeks.ImaynotknowwhoIam,butIdoknowthatwasanextremelystupidthingtosay.“Yeah,”Isay.“IguessCharlieisanasshole.”
HelaughsandgrabsmyhandbeforeIcanprotest.IglancebackatthecarwhereJanetteandLandonarewatchingusthroughthesidewindows.Theylooklikesadlittlepuppies.“Youshouldstaywiththem,”Isay.“Teenpregnancyisathing.”
Hesnickers.“Areyoukiddingme?Didyounotseehowtheyfoughtthewholewayhere?”
“Sexualtension,”Ising,asIswingopenthedoortothemainreceptionarea.
Itsmellslikesweat.IcrinklemynoseasIwalkuptothewindow.Awomanstandsinfrontofme,achildtuggingoneachofherhands.SheswearsatthembeforebarkinghernameatthereceptionistandpassingthemherID.
Shit.Howolddidyouevenhavetobetovisitsomeoneinthisplace?Ifumbleformydriver’slicenseandwaitmyturn.SilassqueezesmyhandandIturntosmileweaklyathim.
“Next,”avoicecalls.Istepuptothewindowandtellastern-facedwomanwhoitisI’mheretosee.
“Areyouonthelist?”sheasks.Inod.ThelettersindicatedthatIhadbeentovisitmyfatherseveraltimessincehewasincarcerated.
“Whatabouthim?”ShenodstowardSilas,whoproduceshisdriver’slicense.
ShepushesbackhisIDandshakesherhead.“Heain’tonthelist.”
“Oh,”Isay.Ittakesherafewminutestogeteverythingintothecomputer,andthenshehandsmeavisitor’sbadge.
“Leaveyourbagwithyourfriend,”shesays.“Hecanwaitouthere.”
Ifeellikescreaming.Idon’twanttogointherealoneandtalktosomemanwho’ssupposedtobemyfather.Silashashisshittogether.Iwanthimtocomewithme.
“Idon’tknowthatIcandothis,”Isay.“Idon’tevenknowwhattoaskhim.”Hegrabsbothofmyshouldersandbendshisheadtolookmeintheeyes.
“Charlie,basedonhismanipulativeletters,thisguyseemslikekindofanasshole.Don’tbuyintohischarm.Getanswersandgetout,okay?”
Inod.“Okay,”Isay.Ilookaroundthedingywaitingarea—theyellowwallsandpainfully-trying-too-hardpottedplants.“You’llbewaitingouthere?”
“Yeah,”hesayssoftly.He’slookinginmyeyes,aslightgrinonhislips.It’smakingmefeellikehewantstokissme,anditfreaksmeout.Strangerdanger.ExceptIalreadyknowwhatitfeelsliketokisshim.Ijustcan’tremember.
“Ifittakesawhile,youshouldgowaitatthecarwithLandonandJanette,”Isay.“Youknow…teenpregnancyandshit.”
Hesmilesreassuringly.
“Okay,”Isay,takingastepback.“Seeyaontheotherside.”
I’mtryingtolookbigandbadasIwalkthroughthemetaldetectorsandaguardpatsmedown.Mylegsfeelshaky.IlookbackatSilas,whoisstandingwithhishandsinhispockets,watchingme.Henodshisheadtourgemeforward,andIfeelalittlesurgeofbravery.
“Icandothis,”Isayundermybreath.“JustalittlevisitwithDaddy-o.”Iamtakentoaroomandtoldtowait.Twenty-oddtablesarescatteredthroughout.Thewomanwhowasinfrontofmeinlineissittingatatablewithherheadinherhandswhileherkidsplayinacorner,stackingblocks.Isitasfarawayfromthemaspossibleandstareatthedoor.Anyminutemyso-calledfatherisgoingtowalkthroughthosedoors,andIdon’tevenknowwhathelookslike.WhatifIgetitwrong?I’mthinkingaboutleaving,justrunningoutandtellingtheothersthathedidn’twanttoseeme,whensuddenlyhewalksin.Iknowit’shimbecausehiseyesimmediatelyfindme.
Hesmilesandwalksover.Walksisnotthewordtodescribewhathedoes.Hesaunters.Idon’tstandup.
“Hey,Peanut,”hesays.HeawkwardlyhugsmeasIsitstiffasaboard.“Hi…Dad.”
Heslidesintotheseatacrossfromme,stillsmiling.Icanseehoweasyitwouldbetoadorehim.Eveninhisprisonjumpsuit,he’ssetapart.Itlooksallwrong—himbeingherewithhisbrightwhiteteethandneatlycombedblondhair.Janettewasright.Wemustlookjustlikeourmother,becausewedon’tlookanythinglikehim.Ihavehismouth,Ithink.Butnothispaleskintone.Idon’thavehiseyes.WhenIsawmypicture,that’sthefirstthingInoticed.Ihavesad-lookingeyes.Hehaslaughingeyes,thoughheprobablydoesn’thaveanythingtolaughabout.I’mluredin.
“Youhaven’tbeenhereintwoweeks,”hesays.“Iwasbeginningtothinkyougirlsjustleftmeheretorot.”
IshrugoffthedaddyvibesIwasgettingaminuteago.Narcissisticprick.IcanalreadytellhowheworksandIjustmethim.Hesaysthingswithlaughingeyesandagrin,buthiswordslashoutlikeawhip.
“Youleftusdestitute.Thecarisaproblem,soit’shardformetodrivethisfar.Andmymotherisanalcoholic.IthinkI’mmadatyouforthat,butIdon’tremember.”
Hestaresatmeforaminute,hissmilefrozenonhisface.“I’msorryyoufeelthatway.”Hefoldshisarmsacrossthetableandleansforward.He’sstudyingme.Itmakesmeuncomfortable,likemaybeheknowsmoreaboutmethanIknowmyself.Whichisprobablythecaseinmycurrentsituation.
“Igotaphonecallthismorning,”hesays,leaningbackinhisseat.
“Ohyeah?Fromwho?”
Heshakeshishead.“Itdoesn’tmatterwhoitwasfrom.Whatmattersiswhattheytoldme.Aboutyou.”
Idon’tofferhimanyinformation.Ican’ttellifhe’sbaitingme.“Isthereanythingyouwanttotellme,Charlize?”
Itiltmyhead.Whatkindofgameisheplaying?“No.”
Henodsalittleandthenpurseshislipstogether.Hisfingerscomeupintheformofasteepleunderhischinwhilehestaresacrossthetableatme.“Iwastoldyouwerecaughttrespassingontosomeone’sproperty.Andthatthereisreasontobelieveyou’reundertheinfluenceofdrugs.”
ItakemytimebeforeIrespondtohim.Trespassing?WhowouldtellhimIwastrespassing?Thetarotreader?ItwasherhouseIwasin.Tomyknowledge,wedidn’ttellanyonewhathadhappened.Wejustwentstraighttothehotellastnight,accordingtoournotes.
Somanythingsrunthroughmymind.Itrytosortthroughthemall.“Whywereyouonouroldproperty,Charlie?”
Mypulsebeginstoquicken.Istandup.“Isthereanythingtodrinkhere?”Iask,spinningaroundinacircle.“I’mthirsty.”Ispotthesodamachine,butIdon’thaveanymoneyonme.Justthen,myfathershoveshishandintohispocketandpullsoutahandfulofquarters.Heslidesthemacrossthetable.
“Theyletyouhavemoneyhere?”
Henods,eyeingmesuspiciouslytheentiretime.Igrabthechangeandwalkovertothesodamachine.Iinsertthequartersandglancebackathim.He’snotlookingatme.He’sstaringdownathishandsfoldedtogetheracrossthetable.
Iwaitformydrinktoplummettothebottom,andeventhen,IstallanotherminutewhileIopenitandtakeasip.ThismanmakesmenervousandIdon’tknowwhy.Idon’tknowhowCharlielookeduptohimlikeshedid.IguessifIhadmemoriesofhimasmyfather,maybeIwouldfeeldifferentlyabouthim.ButIdon’thavememories.IcanonlygobywhatI’mseeing,andrightnowIseeacriminal.Abeady-eyed,paleexcuseforaman.
Ialmostdropmysoda.Everymuscleinmybodyweakenswiththerealization.IthinkbacktoadescriptioneithermeorSilaswroteinournotes.AphysicaldescriptionofTheShrimp.OfCora
“TheycallherTheShrimpbecauseshehasbeadyeyesandskinthatturnstenshadesofpinkwhenshetalks.”
Shit.Shit,shit,shit.
BrettisCora’sfather?
He’sstaringatmenow,probablywonderingwhyit’stakingsolongformetomakemywaybacktohim.Iheadinhisdirection.WhenIreachthetable,Ieyehimhard.OnceI’mseated,Ileanforwardanddon’tallowasinglebitofmytrepidationtoseepthroughmyconfidence.
“Let’splayagame,”Itellhim.
Heraisesanamusedbrow.“Okay.”
“Let’spretendI’velostmymemory.I’mablankslate.I’mputtingthingstogetherImaynothaveseenotherwise,inmyprioradorationofyou.Areyoufollowing…?”
“Notreally,”hesays.Helookssour.Iwonderifhegetslikethiswhenpeopledon’tfallalloverthemselvestopleasehim.
“Didyouhappentofatheranotherdaughter?Idon’tknow,maybeonewithacrazymotherwhowouldholdmeagainstmywill?”
Hisfaceturnswhite.Heimmediatelystartstodeny,turnshisbodyawayfromme,andcallsmecrazy.ButIsawthepaniconhisface,andIknowI’montosomething.
“Didyouhearthelastpartofmysentenceorareyoujustfocusedonkeepingupappearances?”Heturnshisheadtolookatme,andthistimehiseyesarenolongersoft.“Shekidnappedme,”Isay.“Keptmelockedinaroominher—our—oldhouse.”
HisAdam’sapplebobsasheswallows.Ithinkhe’sdecidingwhattotellme.
“Shefoundyoutrespassingonherproperty,”hesaysfinally.“Shesaidyouwereactingirate.Youhadnoideawhereyouwere.Shedidn’twanttocallthepolicebecauseshe’sconvincedyou’redoingdrugs,soshekeptyoutohelpyoudetox.Shehadmypermission,Charlie.Shecalledmeassoonasshefoundyouinherhouse.”
“I’mnotondrugs,”Itellhim.“Andwhointheirrightmindwouldholdsomeoneagainsttheirwill?”
“Wouldyourathershecalledthepoliceonyou?Youweretalkingcrazy!Andyoubrokeintoherhouseinthemiddleofthenight!”
Idon’tknowwhattobelieverightnow.TheonlymemoryofthatexperienceIhaveisinthenotesIwrotetomyself.
“Andthatgirlismyhalfsister?Cora?”
Hestaresatthetabletop,unabletomeetmyeyes.Whenhedoesn’trespond,Idecidetoplayhisgame.“It’sinyourbestinteresttobehonestwithme.SilasandIcameacrossafilethatClarkNashhasbeendesperatelysearchingforsincebeforeyourtrial.”
Hedoesn’tevenflinch.Hispokerfaceistooperfect.Hedoesn’taskmewhatfileIhave.Hejustsays,“Yes.She’syourhalfsister.Ihadanaffairwithhermotheryearsago.”
It’slikethisisallhappeningtoacharacteronatelevisionshow.IwonderhowtherealCharliewouldtakethis.Burstintotears?Getupandrunout?Punchthisdudeintheface?FromwhatI’vereadofher,probablythelatter.
“Wow.Oh,wow.Doesmymotherknow?”
“Yes.Shefoundoutafterwelostthehouse.”
Whatasorryexcuseforaman.First,hecheatsonmymother.Impregnatesanotherwoman.Thenhehidesitfromhiswifeandkidsuntilhegetscaught?
“God,”Isay.“Nowondershe’sanalcoholic.”Ileanbackinmyseatandstareupattheceiling.“Youneverclaimedher?Doesthegirlknow?”
“Sheknows,”hesays.
Ifeelhotanger.ForCharlie,forthispoorgirlwhohastogotoschoolwithCharlieandwatchherlivethelifeshedidn’tgettohave,andforthiswholescrewed-upsituation.
Itakeamomenttogathermyselfwhilehesitsinsilence.IwishIcouldsayhewaswallowinginguilt,butI’mnotsosurethismaniscapableoffeelingguilt.
“WhydotheyliveinthehouseIgrewupin?Didyougiveittothem?”
Thisquestionturnshimalightshadeofpink.Hepopshisjawashiseyesdartlefttoright.Hisvoiceisquieterwhenhespeaks,sothatonlyIcanhearhim.“Thatwomanwasaclientofmine,Charlie.Andamistake.Ibrokeitoffwithheryearsago,amonthbeforeshefoundoutshewaspregnant.Wecametoanagreementofsorts.ThatIwouldbepresentfinancially,butnothingelse.Itwasbetterforeveryonethatway.”
“Sowhatyou’resayingis,youboughthersilence?”
“Charlie…”hesays.“Imadeamistake.Believeme,I’vepaidforittenfold.SheusedthemoneyI’dbeensendingherallthoseyearstopurchaseouroldhouseinauction.Shedidthatjusttospiteme.”
Soshe’svindictive.Andmaybealittlebitcrazy.Andmyfatheristoblameforthat?
Jesus.Thisjustgetsworseandworse.
“Didyoudowhattheysayyoudid?”Iaskhim.“Sincewe’retellingthetruth,IthinkIhavearighttoknow.”
Hiseyesdartaroundtheroomagaintoseewho’slistening.
“Whyareyouaskingallofthesequestions?”hewhispers.“Thisisn’tlikeyou.”
“I’mseventeenyearsold.IthinkIhavetherighttochange.”Thisguy.Iwanttorollmyeyesathim,butfirstIneedhimtogivememoreanswers.
“DidClarkNashputyouuptothis?”heasks,leaningforwardwithaccusationinbothhiswordsandhisexpression.“AreyouinvolvedwithSilasagain?”
He’stryingtoturnitaroundonme.Hecan’tgettomeanymore.
“Yes,Daddy,”Isay,smilingsweetly.“I’minvolvedwithSilasagain.Andwe’reinloveandveryhappy.Thankyouforasking.”
Veinsbulgeathistemples.Hishandstightenintoangryfists.“Charlie,youknowwhatIthinkaboutthat.”
Hisreactionsetsmeoff.Istandupandmychairscootsbackwithascreech.“LetmetellyouwhatIthink,Dad.”Itakeastepawayfromthetableandpointathim.“You’veruinedalotoflives.Youthoughtmoneycouldtaketheplaceofyourresponsibilities.Yourchoicesdrovemymothertodrinking.Youleftyourowndaughterswithnothing,notevenarolemodelintheirlives.Nottomentionallthepeopleyouswindledmoneyfrominyourcompany.Andyoublameeveryoneelse.Becauseyou’reareallyshittyhuman.Andanevenshittierfather!”Isay.“Idon’tknowCharlieandJanetteverywell,butIthinktheydeservebetter.”
Iturnandwalkaway,tossingacoupleoffinalwordsovermyshoulder.“Goodbye,Brett!Haveanicelife!”38
Silas
I’msittingcross-leggedonthehoodofthecar,leaningagainstthewindshieldandwritingdownnoteswhenshereturns.Shewasinthereformorethananhour,soIdidwhatshesaidandcametowaitoutheretokeepaneyeonoursiblings.IsitupstraightwhenIseeher.Idon’taskherifshefoundoutanything;Ijustwaitforhertosaysomething.Shedoesn’tlooklikeshewantstobespokentoatthispoint.
She’sheadingstraightforthecar.Shemakesbriefeyecontactwithmeasshepassesme.Iturnmyheadandwatchherasshewalksswiftlytotherearofthecarandthenbacktothefrontagain.Thentotherear.Backtothefront.
Herhandsareclenchedinfistsatherside.Janetteopensthefrontdoorandstepsoutofthecar.
“What’dtheworld’sgreatestprison-dadhavetosay?”
Charliestopsinhertracks.“DidyouknowaboutCora?”
Janettepullsherneckbackandshakesherhead.“Cora?Who?”
“TheShrimp!”Charliesaysloudly.“Didyouknowhe’sherfather?”
Janette’smouthdropsopenandIimmediatelyjumpoffthehoodofthecar.
“Wait.What?”Isay,walkingtowardCharlie.
Shepullsherhandsupandrubsthemoverherface,thenmakesherfingersintoasteepleasshebreathesinslowly.“Silas,Ithinkyouwereright.Thisisn’tadream.”
Icanseethefearineverypartofher.Thefearthathasn’tsettledinsinceshelosthermemoriesagainseveralhoursago.It’salljustnowhittingher.
Itakeaslowstepforwardandreachmyhandout.“Charlie.It’sokay.We’llfigurethisout.”
Shetakesaquickstepbackandbeginsshakingherhead.“Whatifwedon’t?Whatifitkeepshappening?”Shebeginspacingagain,thistimewithherhandslockedbehindherhead.“Whatifithappensoverandoveruntilourliveswasteaway!”Herchestbeginstoheaveinandoutwiththedeepbreathsshe’staking.
“What’swrongwithyou?”Janetteasks.Shedirectshernextquestionatme.“WhatamImissing?”
Landonisstandingnexttomenow,soIturntohim.“I’mtakingCharlieforawalk.WillyouexplaintoJanettewhat’shappeningtous?”
Landonpresseshislipstogetherandnods.“Yeah.Butshe’llthinkwe’realllying.”
IgrabCharlie’sarmandurgehertowalkwithme.Tearsbeginstreamingdownhercheeksandsheswipesatthemangrily.“Hewaslivingadoublelife,”shesays.“Howcouldhedothattoher?”
“Towho?”Iask.“Janette?”
Shestopsandsays,“No,notJanette.NotCharlie.Notmymother.ToCora.Howcouldheknowhefatheredachildandrefusetohaveanythingtodowithher?He’sanawfulperson,Silas!HowdidCharlienotseethat?”
She’sworriedaboutTheShrimp?Thegirlwhoassistedinholdinghercaptiveforanentireday?
“Trytotakeabreath,”Itellher,grabbinghershouldersandforcinghertofaceme.“Youprobablyneversawthatsideofhim.Hewasgoodtoyou.Youlovedhimbasedonthepersonhepretendedtobe.Andyoucan’tfeelsorryforthatgirl,Charlie.Shehelpedhermotherholdyouagainstyourwill.”
Shebeginsshakingherheadbackandforthfeverishly.“Theyneverhurtme,Silas.Imadeitapointtostressthatintheletter.Shewasrude,sure,butI’mtheonewhobrokeintotheirhouse!ImusthavefollowedhertherethenightIdidn’tgetinthecab.Shethoughtwewereondrugs,becauseIhadnomemoryofanything,andIdon’tblameher!AndthenIforgotwhoIwasagainandIprobablystartedtopanic.”Sheexhalessharplyandpausesforamoment.Whenshelooksupatme,shelookscalmer.Shefoldsherlipstogetherandmoistensthem.“Idon’tthinkshehadanythingtodowithwhat’shappenedtous.She’sjustacrazy,bitterwomanwhohatesmyfatherandprobablywantedsomesickrevengeforhowItreatedherdaughter.Buttheygotbroughtintothefoldbyus.Thiswholetimewe’vebeenlookingatotherpeople…tryingtoblameotherpeople.Butwhatif…”Sheexhalesabreath,andthen,“Whatifwedidthistoeachother?”
Iletgoofhershouldersandtakeastepback.Shesitsdownonthecurbandholdsherheadinherhands.There’snowaywewouldhavedonethistoourselvesonpurpose.“Idon’tthinkthat’spossible,Charlie,”Isay,takingaseatnexttoher.“Howcouldwedothis?Howdotwopeoplejustsimultaneouslystoprememberingatthesametime?Ithastobesomethingbiggerthanwhatwe’recapableof.”
“Ifithastobebiggerthanus,thenitalsohastobebiggerthanmyfather.AndCora.AndCora’smother.Andmymom.Andyourparents.Ifwearen’tcapableofcausingthis,thennooneelseshouldbecapableofit,either.”
Inod.“Iknow.”
Shebringsherthumbuptohermouthforasecond.Then,“Soifthisisn’thappeningtousbecauseofotherpeople…whatcoulditbe?”
Icanfeelthemusclesinmynecktighten.Ibringmyhandsupbehindmyheadandlookupatthesky.“Somethingbigger?”
“What’sbigger?Theuniverse?God?Isthisthebeginningoftheapocalypse?”Shestandsupandpacesbackandforthinfrontofme.“DoyouthinkweevenbelievedinGod?Beforethishappenedtous?”
“Ihavenoidea.ButI’veprayedmoreinthelastfewdaysthanIprobablyhaveinmyentirelife.”Istandupandgrabherhand,pullingherinthedirectionofthecar.“Iwanttoknoweverythingyourfathersaid.Let’sheadbackandyoucanwritedowneverythinghetoldyouwhileIdrive.”
Sheslidesherfingersthroughmineandwalksbacktothecarwithme.Whenwereturn,Janetteisleaningagainstthepassengerdoor.She’sglaringatbothofus.“Soyouseriouslycan’trememberanything?Eitherofyou?”HerattentionisfocusedsolelyonCharlienow.
ImotionforherandLandontositinthebackseatthistime.IopenthedriverdoorasCharlierespondstoher.“No.Wecan’t.AndIswearI’mnotmakingthisupforkicks,Janette.Idon’tknowwhatkindofsisterI’vebeentoyou,butIswearIwouldn’tmakethisup.”
JanetteeyesCharlieforamomentandthensays,“You’vebeenareallyshittysisterthelastcoupleofyears.ButIguessifeverythingLandonjusttoldmeistrueandyoureallycan’trememberanything,thenthatexplainswhynotasingleoneofyoudickfaceshastoldmehappybirthdaytoday.”Sheopensthedoortothebackseat,climbsinside,andthenslamsit.
“Ouch,”Charliesays.
“Yeah,”Iagree.“Youforgotyourlittlesister’sbirthday?That’sprettyselfishofyou,Charlie.”
Sheslapsmeplayfullyinthechest.Igrabherhand,andIswearthere’samomentthatpassesbetweenus.Asinglesecondwhereshelooksatmelikeshecanfeelwhatsheoncefeltforme.
Butthensheblinks,pullsherhandfrommine,andclimbsinthecar.39
Charlie
It’snotreallymyfaultthattheuniverseispunishingme.Us.
Silasandme.
IkeepforgettingthatSilasisscrewedtoo,whichprobablymeansI’manarcissist.Great.Ithinkaboutthesisterinthecarwithmewhoishavingareallyshittybirthday.Andthehalfsisterwholivesinmyoldhousewithherquestionablemother.Accordingtomyjournals,I’vebeentorturingthatgirlforadecade.Iamabadperson,andanevenworsesister.
DoIevenwanttogetmymemoriesback?
Istareoutthewindowandwatchaswepassalloftheotherstupidcars.Idon’thaveanymemories,butIcanatleastmakesureJanettehassomeofthisday
“Hey,Silas,”Isay.“CanyouputsomethingintothatfancyGPSforme?”
“Yeah,”hesays.“Likewhat?”
Idon’tknowthegirlinthebackseatatall.Shecouldbesuperintorole-playvideogamesforallIknow.“Anarcade,”Isay.
IseeLandonandJanetteperkupinthebackseat.Yes!Icongratulatemyself.Allpubescenthumanslikevideogames.It’sathing.
“Kindofaweirdtimetowanttogoplaygames,”Silassays.“Don’tyouthinkweshould—”
“Ithinkweshouldplaygames,”Iinterrupt.“Becauseit’sJanette’sbirthday.”Imakemyeyesreallywidesoheunderstandsthisisn’tupfordiscussion.Hemakesan“O”faceandgivesmeareallylamethumbsup.Charliehatesthumbsup,Icantellbyherbody’simmediatereactiontoit.
Silasfindsanarcadenotfarfromwhereweare.Whenwegetthere,hepullsouthiswalletanddigsarounduntilhefindsacreditcard.
Janettemakeseyesatme,likeshe’sembarrassed,butIshrug.Ibarelyevenknowthisguy.Whatdoesitmatterthathe’sspendinghismoneyonus?Besides,Idon’thaveanymoney.MyfatherlostitallandSilas’sfatherstillhassome,soit’sfine.NotonlyamIanarcissist;I’malsogoodatjustification
Wecarryourtokensinpapercups,andassoonaswe’reinsidethearcade,JanetteandLandonwalkofftodotheirownthing.Together.ImakeeyesatSilasandmouthSee.
“Comeon,”Silassays.“Let’sgetsomepizza.Letthekidsplay.”Hewinksatme,andItrynottosmile.
Wefindatabletowaitforourpizza,andIslideintoabooth,wrappingmyarmsaroundmyknees.“Silas,”Isay.“Whatifthiskeepshappeningtous?Thisendlessloopofforgetting.Whatwillwedo?”
“Idon’tknow,”hesays.“Findeachotheroverandover.It’snotthatbad,right?”
Iglanceoverathimtoseeifhe’sjoking.
Itisn’tthatbad.Butthesituationis.“Whowantstospendtheirlifenotknowingwhotheyare?”
“Icouldspendeverydaygettingtoknowyoualloveragain,Charlie,andIdon’tthinkI’dgetsickofit.”
HeatclimbsupmybodyandIquicklylookaway.That’smygo-towithSilas:don’tlookathim,don’tlookathim,don’tlookathim.
“You’redumb,”Isay.Buthe’snotdumb.He’saromanticandhiswordsarepowerful.Charlieisn’t,Icantell.Butshewantstobe—Icantellthattoo.ShedesperatelywantsSilastoshowherit’snotallalie.There’sapullinsideofhereverytimeshelooksathim.Itfeelslikeatugging,andIwanttobrushitawayeverytimeithappens.
Isighandripopenasugarpacket,emptyingthepowderontothetable.Beingateenagerisexhausting.Silassilentlywatchesmedrawpatternsinthesugaruntilhefinallygrabsmyhand.
“We’llfigureitout,”heassuresme.“We’reontherighttrack.”
Idustmyhandsonmypants.“Okay.”EventhoughIknowwearen’tonanytrack.We’rejustaslostaswewerewhenwewokeupinthehoteltoday.
I’malsoaliar.Anarcissist,ajustifier,aliar.
JanetteandLandonfindusjustasthepizzaarrives.Theyslideintoourbooth,rosycheekedandlaughing.IntheentiredayI’veknownJanette,I’veneverevenseenhercomeclosetolaughter.IhateCharlie’sfathermorerightnow.Forscrewingupateenagegirl.TwoteenagegirlsifIcountmyself.Well…three,nowthatIknowaboutCora.
IwatchJanettebiteintoherpizza.Itdoesn’thavetobethisway.IfIcouldjustcomeoutofthis…thing…Icouldtakecareofher.Bebetter.Forbothofus.
“Charlie,”shesays,settingdownherslice.“Willyoucomeplaywithme?”
Ismile.“Yeah,ofcourse.”
Shebeamsatmeandmyheartsuddenlyfeelssobigandfull.WhenIlookoveratSilas,he’sstaringatme,glassyeyed.Thecornerofhismouthliftsinasmallsmile.40
Silas
It’sdarkwhenwepullintoCharlieandJanette’sdriveway.There’sanawkwardmomentwhereIshouldprobablywalkCharlietothedoor,butbasedonthewayLandonandJanettehavebeenflirtinginthebackseat,Idon’tknowhowallfourofusaresupposedtodothisatthesametime.
Janetteopensherdoor,andthenLandonopenshis,soCharlieandIwaitinthecar.
“They’reexchangingnumbers,”shesays,watchingthem.“Howcute.”
WesitinsilencewatchingthemflirtuntilJanettedisappearsinsidethehouse.
“Ourturn,”Charliesays,openingherdoor.
Iwalkslowlywithherupthesidewalk,hopinghermotherdoesn’tseemehere.Idon’thavetheenergytodealwiththatwomantonight.IfeelbadthatCharlie’sabouttohavetodojustthat.
She’swringingherhandstogethernervously.Iknowshe’sstallingbecauseshedoesn’twantmetoleaveheralonetonight.Everysinglememoryshehasconsistsofmeandher.“Whattimeisit?”sheasks.
Ipullmyphoneoutofmypockettocheck.“It’safterten.”
Shenodsandthenglancesbehindheratthehouse.“Ihopemymotherisasleep,”shesays.Andthen,“Silas…”
Iinterruptwhatevershe’sabouttosay.“Charlie,Idon’tthinkweshouldsplituptonight.”
Hereyesmeetmineagain.Shelooksrelieved.I’mtheonlypersonsheknows,afterall.Thelastthingweprobablyneedrightnowistobedistractedbypeoplewedon’tknow.“Good.Iwasjustabouttosuggestthat.”
Inudgemyheadtothedoorbehindher.“Weneedtomakeitlooklikeyou’rehome,though.Goinside.Makelikeyou’regoingtobed.I’llgodropLandonoffatmyhouseandthencomebacktogetyouinanhour.”
Shenods.“I’llmeetyouattheendoftheroad,”shesays.“Wheredoyouthinkweshouldstaytonight?”
Ithinkaboutthat.It’sprobablybestifwestayatmyhouse,sowecanseeifthere’sanythingwemissedinmyroomthatmighthelpus.“I’llsneakyouupstairstomybedroom.Wehavealottogoovertonight.”
Charlie’seyesdroptotheground.“Upstairs?”shesayscuriously.Sheinhalesaslowbreath,andIcanheartheairslidingthroughherclenchedteeth.“Silas?”Sheliftshereyestomine,andthey’renarrowed.ShehasanaccusatorylookaboutherandIhavenoideawhatI’vedonetoprovokethislook.“Youwouldn’tlietome,wouldyou?”
Itiltmyhead,notsureifIheardherright.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“I’vebeennoticingthings.Littlethings,”shesays.
Icanfeelthedescentofmyheart.WhatdidIsay?“Charlie…I’mnotsurewhatyou’regettingat.”
Shetakesastepback.Herhandcovershermouthforamoment,andthenshepointsatme.“Howdoyouknowyourbedroomisupstairswhenyouhaven’tevenbeentoyourhouseyet?”
Shit.Ididsayupstairs
Shakingherhead,sheadds,“Andyoumadeacommentearlierattheprison.Abouthowyou’veprayedalotinthelastfewdays,butwe’rebothonlysupposedtoremembertoday.Andthismorning…whenItoldyoumynamewasDelilah?Icouldseeyoutryingnottosmile.BecauseyouknewIwaslying.”Hervoicebeginstofalterbetweensuspiciousandscared.Iholdupareassuringpalm,butshebacksanotherstepclosertothehouse.
Thisisaproblem.I’mnotsureIknowhowtorespondtoher.Idon’tlikeknowingthatshewouldratherruninsideahousethatterrifiedherfiveminutesagothanbestandingnearme.WhydidIlietoherthismorning?
“Charlie.Pleasedon’tbescaredofme.”Icantellit’salreadytoolate.
Shedartsforherfrontdoor,soIlungeforwardandwrapmyarmsaroundher,pullingheragainstmychest.Shestartstoscream,soIcoverhermouthwithmyhand.“Calmdown,”Isayagainstherear.“Iwon’thurtyou.”ThelastthingIneedisforhernottotrustme.Shegrabsmyarmwithbothhands,tryingtofreeherselffrommygrasp.“You’reright.Charlie,you’reright.Iliedtoyou.Butifyou’llcalmdownfortwoseconds,I’llexplainwhy.”
SheliftsalegwhileI’mstillholdingontoherfrombehind.Shepressesherfootagainstthehouseandkicksashardasshecan,sendingbothofustumblingbackward.Ilosemygriponherandshebeginstocrawlawayfromme,butI’mabletograbheragainandpushherontoherback.She’slookingupatmewide-eyed,butsheisn’tscreamingthistime.Myhandsarepressingherarmsagainsttheground.
“Stopit,”Itellher.
“Whydidyoulie?”shecries.“Whyareyoupretendingthishappenedtoyoutoo?”Shestrugglessomemore,soItightenmyhold.
“I’mnotpretending,Charlie!I’vebeenforgetting,justlikeyouhave.Butitdidn’thappentometoday.Idon’tknowwhy.ButIcanonlyrememberthelasttwodays,that’sit.Iswear.”Ilookherintheeyesandsheholdsmystare.She’sstillmildlystruggling,butIcantellshealsowantstohearmyexplanation.“Ididn’twantyoutobeafraidofmethismorning,soIpretendedithappenedagain.ButIswear,upuntilthismorning,it’sbeenhappeningtobothofus.”
Shestopsstrugglingandjustletsherheadfalltotheside.Shecloseshereyes,completelyexhausted.Emotionallyandphysically.“Whyisthishappening?”shewhispersindefeat.
“Idon’tknow,Charlie,”Isay,releasingoneofherarms.“Idon’tknow.”Ibrushherhairoutofherface.“I’mabouttoletgoofyou.I’mgoingtostandupandgetinmycar.AfterIdropLandonoff,I’llcomebackforyou,okay?”
Shenodsherheadbutdoesn’topenhereyes.Ireleaseherotherarmandslowlystandup.WhenI’mnolongerpinninghertotheground,shequicklysitsupandscootsawayfrommebeforestandingup.
“Iwaslyingtoprotectyou.Nottohurtyou.Youbelieveme,right?”
SherubsthespotsonherarmswhereIwasholdingherdown.Sheproducesameek“Yeah.”Andthen,afterclearingherthroat,“Bebackinanhour.Anddon’tlietomeeveragain.”
IwaitforhertowalkbackinsideherhousebeforeIheadbacktothecar.
“Whatthehellwasthatallabout?”Landonasks.
“Nothing,”Ireply,staringoutthewindowaswepassherhouse.“Justtellinghergoodnight.”Ireachintothebackseattograballofourthings.“I’mgoingbacktoJamaisJamaisformyLandRover.”
Landonlaughs.“Wesortofwreckeditlastnight.Tearingdownagate?”
Iremember.Iwasthere.“Itmightstilldriveokay,though.It’sworthashot,andIcan’tkeepusing…whosecaristhis,anyway?”
“Mom’s,”hesays.“Itextedherthismorningandtoldheryourswasintheshopandthatweneededherstoday.”
IknewIlikedthiskid.“So…Janette,huh?”Iaskhim.
Heturnstowardthewindow.“Shutup.”
TheLandRover’sfrontendwasadebacleoftwistedmetalanddebris.Butapparentlythedamagewasonlycosmetic,becauseitcrankedrightup.
IttookallIhadnottogoinsidethegateagainandscreamatthatpsychowomanforleadingusinthewrongdirection,butIdidn’t.Charlie’sdadhascausedenoughofashitstorminherworld.
IcalmlydrivemycartoCharlie’shouseandwaitforherattheendoftheroadlikeIsaidIwould.ItexthertoletherknowI’minadifferentvehicle.
IbegintoturntheoriesoverinmymindwhileIwaitforher.It’shardformetosuspendbeliefinordertogiveourcircumstancesanexplanation,buttheonlythingsIcancomeupwithareotherworldly.
Acurse.
Analienabduction.Timetravel.
Twinbraintumors?
Noneofitmakessense.
I’mmakingnoteswhenthepassengerdooropens.ArushofwindfollowsCharlieinsidethecar,andIfindmyselfwishingitwouldpushherallthewaytomyside.Herhairisdampandshe’sindifferentclothes.
“Hey.”
Shesays,“Hi,”andpullstheseatbeltintoplace.“Whatwereyouwriting?”
Ihandherthenotebookandpenandthenbackoutofthedriveway.
Shebeginsreadingovermysummary.
Whenshe’sfinished,shesays,“Noneofitmakessense,Silas.Wegotintoafightandbrokeupthenightbeforethisstarted.Thenextdaywecan’trememberanythingotherthanrandomstuff,likebooksandphotography.Itkeepshappeningforaweek,untilyoudon’tloseyourmemoryandIdo.”Shepullsherfeetupontheseatandtapsthepenagainstthenotebook.“Whatarewemissing?Therehastobesomething.Ihavenomemorybeforethismorning,sowhathappenedyesterdaythatmadeyoustopforgetting?Didanythinghappenlastnight?”
Idon’tanswerherrightaway.Ithinkaboutherquestions.Howallalong,we’vebeenassumingotherpeoplehadsomethingtodowiththis.WethoughtTheShrimpwasinvolved,wethoughthermotherwasinvolved.Forawhile,IwantedtoaccuseCharlie’sfather.Butmaybeit’snoneofthat.Maybeithasnothingtodowithanyoneelseandeverythingtodowithus.
Wereachmyhousenoclosertothetruththanwewerethismorning.
Thanweweretwodaysago.Thanwewerelastweek.
“Let’sgothroughthebackdoorincasemyparentsareawake.”ThelastthingweneedrightnowisforthemtoseemesneakingCharlieintomybedroomtostaythenight.Thebackdoorwon’ttakeuspastmyfather’sstudy.
It’sunlocked,soImakemywayinfirst.Whenallisclear,Igrabherhandandrushherthroughthehouse,upthestairwell,andtomybedroom.BythetimeIshutthedoorbehindusandlockit,we’rebothbreathingheavily.Shelaughsandfallsontomybed.“Thatwasfun,”shesays.“Ibetwe’vedonethatbefore.”
Shesitsupandbrushesthehairoutofhereyes,smiling.Shebeginstolookaroundmyroom,througheyesthatareseeingitagainforthefirsttime.Iimmediatelygetthatlonginginmychest,akintohowIfeltlastnightatthehotelwhenshefellasleepinmyarms.ThefeelingthatIwoulddoabsolutelyanythingtobeabletorememberwhatitwasliketoloveher.God,Iwantthatback.Whydidweeverbreakup?Whydidweleteverythingthathappenedbetweenourfamiliescomebetweenus?Fromtheoutsidelookingin,I’dalmostbelieveweweresoulmatesbeforeweletitallfallapart.Whydidwethinkwecouldintervenewithfate?
Ipause.
Whenshelooksatme,sheknowssomethingisgoingoninmyhead.Shescootstotheedgeofthebedandtiltsherhead.“Doyouremembersomething?”
Isitinthedeskchairandrolltowardher.ItakebothofherhandsinmineandIsqueezethem.“No,”Isay.“But…Imighthaveatheory.”
Shesitsupstraighter.“Whatkindoftheory?”
I’msurethisisabouttosoundcraziercomingfrommymouththanitdoesswimmingaroundinmyhead.“Okay,so…thismightsoundstupid.Butlastnight…whenwewereatthehotel?”
Shenods,encouragingmetocontinue.
“OneofthelastthoughtsIhadbeforewefellasleepwashow—whileyouweremissing—Ididn’tfeelwhole.ButwhenIfoundyou,itwasthefirsttimeIfeltlikeSilasNash.Upuntilthatpoint,Ididn’tfeellikeanyone.AndIrememberswearingtomyselfrightbeforeIfellasleepthatIwouldneverallowustodriftapartagain.SoIwasthinking…”Ireleaseherhandsandstandup.Ipacetheroomacoupleoftimesuntilshestandsup,too.Ishouldn’tbeembarrassedtosaythisnextpartoutloud,butIam.It’sridiculous.Butsoiseveryotherthinginthewholeworldrightnow.
IrubthenervesoutofthebackofmyneckwhileIlockeyeswithher.“Charlie?Whatif…whenwebrokeup…wescrewedwithdestiny?”
Iwaitforhertolaugh,butinstead,arushofchillscoversherarms.Shemakestorubthemawayassheslowlytakesaseatbackdownonthebed.“That’sridiculous,”shemutters.Butthere’snoconvictioninherwords,whichmeansmaybeapartofherthinksthistheoryisworthexploring.
Isitdowninmychairagainandpositionmyselfinfrontofher.“Whatifwe’resupposedtobetogether?Andmessingwiththatcausedsomesortof…Idon’tknow…rift.”
Sherollshereyes.“Sowhatyou’reimplyingis,theuniversewipedawayallofourmemoriesbecausewebrokeup?Thatseemsalittlenarcissistic.”
Ishakemyhead.“Iknowhowitsounds.Butyes.Hypotheticallyspeaking…whatifsoulmatesexist?Andoncetheycometogether,theycan’tfallapart?”
Shefoldsherhandstogetherinherlap.“HowdoesthatexplainwhyyourememberedthistimeandIdidn’t?”
Ipacetheroomsomemore.“Letmethinkforaminute,”Isaytoher.
ShewaitspatientlywhileIrubthefloorraw.Iholdupafinger.“Hearmeout,okay?”
“I’mlistening,”shesays.
“We’velovedeachothersincewewerekids.Weobviouslyhadthisconnectionthathaslastedourentirelives.Upuntilexternalfactorsstartedgettinginourway.Thethingwithourfathers,ourfamilieshatingeachother.Youholdingagrudgeagainstmeforbelievingyourfatherwasguilty.There’sapatternhere,Charlie.”IgrabthenotebookthatIwroteinearlierandlookatallthethingswenaturallyrememberandallthethingswedon’t.“Andourmemories…wecanrememberthingsthatweren’tforcedonus.Thingswehadapassionforallonourown.Yourememberbooks.Irememberhowtoworkacamera.Werememberlyricstoourfavoritesongs.Weremembercertainthingsinhistory,orrandomstories.Butthingsthatwereforcedonusbyothers,weforgot.Likefootball.”
“Whataboutpeople?”sheasks.“Whydidweforgetallthepeoplewe’vemet?”
“Ifwerememberedpeople,we’dstillhaveothermemories.We’drememberhowwemetthem,theimpactthey’vehadonourlives.”Iscratchatthebackofmyhead.“Idon’tknow,Charlie.Alotofitdoesn’tmakesensestill.Butlastnight,Ifeltaconnectionwithyouagain.LikeIhadlovedyouforyears.Andthismorning…Ididn’tlosemymemorieslikeyoudid.Therehastobesignificanceinthat.”
Charliestandsupandbeginspacingtheroom.“Soulmates?”shemutters.“Thisisalmostasridiculousasacurse.”
“Ortwopeopledevelopingin-syncamnesia?”
Shenarrowshereyesatme.Icanseehermindworkingasshechewsonthepadofherthumb.“Wellthen,explainhowyoufellbackinlovewithmeinjusttwodays.Andifwe’resoulmates,whywouldn’tIhavefallenbackinlovewithyou?”Shestopspacingandwaitsformyanswer.
“Youspentalotofyourtimelockedupinsideyouroldhouse.Ispentallthattimelookingforyou.Iwasreadingourloveletters,goingthroughyourphone,readingyourjournals.BythetimeIfoundyouyesterday,IfeltlikeIalreadyknewyou.Forme,readingeverythingfromourpastsomehowconnectedmetoyouagain…likesomeofmyoldfeelingshadcomeback.Butforyou…Iwasbarelymorethanastranger.”
We’rebothsittingagain.Thinking.Contemplatingthepossibilitythatthismightbetheclosestwe’vecometoanysortofpattern.
“Sowhatyou’resuggestingis…weweresoulmates.Butthenexternalinfluencesruinedusaspeopleandwefelloutoflove?”
“Yeah.Maybe.Ithinkso.”
“Andit’llkeephappeninguntilwesetthingsrightagain?”
Ishrug,becauseI’mnotsure.It’sjustatheory.Butitmakesmoresensethananythingelsewe’vecomeupwith.
Fiveminutespasswhileneitherofussaysasingleword.Shefinallyfallsbackontothebedwithaheavysighandsays,“Youknowwhatthismeans?”
“No.”
Shepullsupontoherelbowsandlooksatme.“Ifthisistrue…youonlyhavethirty-sixhourstomakemefallinlovewithyou.”
Idon’tknowifwe’reontosomething,orifwe’reabouttospendtheremainderofourtimechasingadeadend,butIsmile,becauseI’mwillingtosacrificethenextthirty-sixhoursforthistheory.Iwalkovertothebedandfallontoitbesideher.We’rebothstaringupattheceilingwhenIsay,“Well,Charliebaby.Webettergetstarted.”
Shethrowsanarmoverhereyesandgroans.“Idon’tknowyouverywell,butIcanalreadytellyou’regonnahavefunwiththis.”
Ismile,becauseshe’sright.
“It’slate,”Itellher.“Weshouldtrytogetsomesleep,becauseyourheartisgoingtogetaseriousworkouttomorrow.”
Isetmyalarmfor6amsothatwecanbeupandoutofthehousebeforeanyoneelsewakesup.Charliesleepsclosesttothewallandisoutcoldinamatterofminutes.Idon’tfeellikeI’llbeabletofallasleepanytimesoon,soIpluckoneofherjournalsfromthebackpackanddecidetoreadsomebeforeIfallasleep.
Silasiscrazy.
Like…legitcrazy.Butmygod,Ihavesomuchfunwithhim.HestartedagameheforcesmetoplaysometimescalledSilasSays.It’sexactlythesameasSimonSays,but…youknow.WithhisnameinsteadofSimon’s.Whatever.He’swaycoolerthanSimon.
WewereonBourbonStreettodayanditwassohotandwewerebothsweatingandmiserable.Wehadnoideawhereourfriendshadgoneofftoandweweren’tsupposedtomeetthemforanotherhour.WhenitcomestomeandSilas,I’malwaysthewhineyone,butitwassohotthistime,evenhewaswhiningalittle.
Anyway,wewalkedpastthisguywhowasproppeduponastoolandhehadpaintedhimselfsilver,likearobot.Therewasasignleaningagainsthisstoolthatsaid,“Askmeaquestion.Getarealanswer.Only25cents.”
Silashandedmeaquarter,soIdroppeditinthebucket.“What’sthemeaningoflife?”Iaskedthesilverman.
Hemadeastiffturnofhisheadandlookedmesquareintheeye.Inaveryimpressiverobotvoice,hesaid,“Thatdependsonthelifeofwhichyousearchformeaning.”
IrolledmyeyesatSilas.Justanotherhackjobscammingthetourists.Iclarifiedmyquestionsothatatleastthequarterwouldn’tgotocompletewaste.“Fine,”Isaid.“What’sthemeaningofmylife?”
Hetookaricketystepdownfromhisstoolandbentataninetydegreeangle.Withhissilverrobotfingers,hepluckedmyquarteroutofthebucketandplaceditinmypalm.HeglancedatSilasandthentomeandsmiled.“You,mydear,havealreadyfoundyourmeaning.Allthereislefttodonow…isdance.”
Thenthesilverdudestarteddancing.Like…legitdancing.Noteveninarobotstyle.Hejusthadthisbig,goofygrinonhisfaceandheldhishandsuplikeaballerinaanddancedlikenoonewaswatchinghim.
Atthatpoint,Silasgrabbedmyhandsandsaidinmock-robotvoice,“Dance.With.Me.”Hetriedtopullmeintothestreettodancewithhim,buthellno.Embarrassing.Ipulledawayfromhim,buthewrappedhisarmsaroundmeanddidthatthingwhereheputshismouthrightonmyear.HeknowsIfreakinglovethat,soitwasreallyunfair.Hewhispered,“Silassaysdance.”
Idon’tknowwhatitwasabouthiminthatmoment.Idon’tknowifitwasbecausehehonestlydidn’tcarethatanyonewaswatchingus,orifitwasbecausehewasstilltalkingtomeinthatsillyrobotvoice.
Whateveritwas,I’mprettysureIfellinlovewithhimtoday.Alloveragain.Forlikethetenthtime.
SoIdidwhatSilassaid.Idanced.Andyouknowwhat?Itwasfun.Somuchfun.WedancedallaroundJacksonSquareandwewerestilldancingwhenourfriendsfoundus.Wewerecoveredinsweatandoutofbreath,andifIwerewatchingusfromthesidewalk,Iwouldprobablybethegirlcrinklingupmynose,muttering“Gross”undermybreath.
ButI’mnotthatgirl.Ineverwanttobethatgirl.Fortherestofmylife,IwanttobethegirldancingwithSilasinthestreet.
Becausehe’scrazy.That’swhyIlovehim.
Iclosethejournal.Didthatreallyhappen?Iwanttoreadmore,butI’mafraidifIkeepgoing,I’llcomeacrossthingsIdon’twanttoremember.
IsetthejournalonmynightstandandrolloversothatIcanwrapmyarmaroundher.Whenwewakeuptomorrow,we’llonlyhaveonedayleft.Iwanthertobeabletoletgoofeverythingthat’sgoingonbetweenussothatshecangenuinelyfocusonmeandourconnectionandnothingelse.
KnowingCharlie…that’sgoingtobehard.It’lltakesomecrazyskillstobeabletoaccomplishthat.
Butluckily…I’mcrazy.That’swhysheusedtoloveme.41
Charlie
“Okay,sohowdoesthisworkexactly?”Iaskaswewalktowardhiscar.“Dowefloatdownthebayouinarowboatwhilelittlecritterssing‘KisstheGirl’?”
“Don’tbeasmartass.”Silasgrins.ThenhestopsmebeforeIreachthecar,grabbingmyhandandpullingmeback.Ilookupathiminsurprise.“Charlize,”hesays,lookingfirstatmylips,andtheninmyeyes.“IfyougivemehalfachanceIcanmakeyoufallinlovewithme.”
IclearmythroatandtrynottolookawayeventhoughIwantto.“Well…you’reofftoagoodstart.Sothere’sthat.”
Helaughs.Ifeelsoawkward,Idon’tknowwhattodowithmyself,soIpretendtosneeze.Hedoesn’tevensayblessyou.Hejustsmilesatme,likeheknowsitwasafakesneeze.
“Stopit,”Isay.“You’restaringatme.”
“That’sthepoint,Charlie.Lookintomyeyes.”
Iburstintolaughter.“You’vegotgame,SilasNash,”Isay,walkingtowardmysideofthecar.
Whenwe’rebothbuckledin,Silasturnstomeandsays,“Accordingtoaletteryouwrote,thefirsttimewehadsexwas—”
“No.Idon’twanttogothere.Wheredidyoufindthatletter?IthoughtIhidit.”
“Notwellenough.”Silasgrins.
IthinkIlikeflirtySilas.Evenifweforgeteverythingagaintomorrow,atleastI’llgetonegooddayoutofthis.“Let’sgosomewherefun,”Isay.“Ican’trememberthelasttimeIhadfun.”
Webothstartlaughingatthesametime.Ilikehim.Ireallydo.He’ssoeasytobearound.Helaughstoomuch,maybe.Like,we’retotallyscrewedrightnow,andhe’sstillalwayssmiling.Worryalittle,dude.HemakesmelaughwhenIshouldbeworrying.
“Okay,”hesays,glancingatme.“IreallywouldrathergotothatplaceintheletterwhereIdidthatthingwithmytongue,but…”
It’sautomatic—itmustbelongtoCharlie—butassoonasthewordsareoutofhismouth,myhandreachesacrossthespacebetweenusandIslaphisarm.HegrabsmyhandbeforeIcanpullawayandholdsittohischest.Thistoofeelslikesomethingthat’sbeendonebefore,somethingthatbelongstothem—CharlieandSilas,notmeandthisguy.
Itmakesmefeeltiredtobeheldagainsthimlikethis,evenifit’sjustmyhand.Ican’taffordtobetired,soItugawayfromhimandlookoutthewindow
“You’rereallyfightingthis,”hesays.“Thatkindofdefiesthepoint.”
He’sright.Ireachoverandgrabhishand.“Thisismefallinginlovewithyou,”Itellhim.“Deep,soullove.”
“Iwonderifyou’relessridiculouswhenyouhaveyourmemory.”
Iturnontheradiowithmyfreehand.“Doubtit,”Isay.
Ilikemakinghimsmile.Itdoesn’ttakemuchtomakethecornersofhismouthtwitch,buttoactuallygethislipstocurveallthewayup,Ihavetobeextrasassy.HislipsarefullycurvednowashepullsintotrafficandIamabletowatchhimwithouthimwatchingme.We’reactinglikeweknoweachothereventhoughourconsciousmindsdon’tknoweachother.Whyisthat?
Ireachforthebackpack,tosearchfortheanswerintheirlettersorjournals.
“Charlize,”Silassays.“Theanswerisn’tinthere.Justbewithme.Don’tworryaboutthat.”
Idropthebackpack.Idon’tknowwherehe’sdriving.Idon’tknowifheknowswherehe’sdriving,butweendupinaparkinglotjustasitstartstorain.Therearenoothercarsaroundandit’scomingdowntoohardformetoseewhat’sinthebuildingsaroundus.
“Wherearewe?”
“Idon’tknow,”Silassays.“Butweshouldgetoutofthecar.”
“It’sraining.”
“Yes.Silassaysgetoutofthecar.”
“Silassays…?LikeSimonsays?”
Hejuststaresatmeexpectantly,soIshrug.Honestly,whatdoIhavetolose?Iopenthecardoorandstepintotherain.It’swarmrain.Itiltmyfaceupandletithitme.
Ihearhisdoorslamandthenherunsaroundthefrontofthecarandstandsinfrontofme.
“Silassaysrunaroundthecarfivetimes.”
“You’reweird,youknowthat?”Hestaresatme.Ishrugagainandstartrunning.Itfeelsgood.Likewitheverystepsomeofthetensionisleavingmybody.
Idon’tlookathimwhenIrunpasthim;Istayfocusedonnottripping.MaybeCharlierantrackorsomething.FivecarlapslaterIstopinfrontofhim.Wearebothsoakedthrough.Dropsofwateraredanglingfromhiseyelashesandrunningdownhistannedneck.WhydoIhavetheurgetotouchmytonguetothoselinesofwater?
Oh,yeah.Wewereinlove.Ormaybeit’sbecausehe’sfreakinghot.“Silassaysgointothatstoreandaskforahotdog.Whentheytellyoutheydon’thavehotdogs,stompyourfootreallyhardandscreamlikeyoudidinthehotelthismorning.”
“Whatthe—”
Hecrosseshisarmsoverhischest.“Silassays.”
WhythehellamIevendoingthis?IgiveSilasthedirtiestlookIcanandstompoffinthedirectionofthestorehepointedmeto.It’saninsuranceagency.Iswingopenthedoorandthreegrouchy-lookingadultsraisetheirheadstoseewhohaswalkedin.Oneofthemevenhastheaudacitytoscrunchuptheirnoseatme,likeIdon’talreadyknowI’mdrippingwatereverywhere.
“I’dlikeahotdogwitheverything,”Isay.
I’mmetwithblankstares.“Areyoudrunk?”thereceptionistasksme.“Doyouneedhelp?What’syourname?”
Istompmyfootandletoutabloodcurdlingscream,atwhichallthreeofthemdropwhateverthey’reholdingandlookateachother.
Itaketheirmomentofsurprisetorunout.Silasiswaitingformeoutsidethedoor.He’slaughingsohard;he’sbentoveratthewaist.
IpunchhimonthearmandthenwebothrunfortheRover.
Icanhearmyownlaughterblendingwithhis.Thatwasfun.WejumpintothecarandpeelawayjustasGrouchyOne,Two,andThreewalkoutsidetowatchus.
Silasdrivesforafewmilesbeforehepullsintoanotherparkinglot.ThistimeIcanseetheglowingsignadvertising“TheBestCoffeeandBeignetsinLouisiana!”
“We’resoakingwet,”Isay,notseemingtobeabletowipethesmilefrommyface.“Doyouknowhowmessybeignetswillbe?”
“Silassayseattenbeignets,”hesaysstoically.
“Ugh.Whydoyouhavetoactlikearobotwhenyouplaythisgame?It’screepingmeout.”
Hedoesn’trespond.Wegetatablenearthewindowandordercoffeeandtwodozenbeignets.Thewaitressdoesn’tseembotheredbyourwetclothesorthefactSilasisspeakinginarobotvoice.
“Thewaitressthinkswe’recute,”ItellSilas.“Weare.”
Irollmyeyes.Thisisfun.WouldCharliethinkthiswasfun?
Whenourbeignetscome,IamsohungryIdon’tcareaboutmywethairorclothes.Idivein,moaningwhenthewarmpastryhitsmytongue.Silaswatchesmeinamusement.
“Youreallylikethose,huh?”
“They’reactuallyreallygross,”Isay.“I’mjustreallyintothisgame.”
Weeatasmanyaswecanuntilwe’recoveredinwhitepowder.Beforeweleave,Silasrubssomeofitacrossmyfaceandhair.Nottobeoutdone,Ireturnthefavor.God,thisguyisfun.MaybeIkindofseewhatCharlieseesinhim.42
Silas
She’sintothis.Shehasn’tsmilednearlyenoughinthelastfewdaysI’vehadwithher,butnowshecan’tstopsmiling.
“Wherearewegoingnow?”shesays,clappingherhandstogether.Shestillhaspowderedsugaronthecornerofhermouth.Ireachacrosstheseatandwipeitoffwithmythumb.
“We’regoingtotheFrenchQuarter,”Itellher.“Lotsofromanticplacesthere.”
Sherollshereyes,scrollingthroughherphone.“Iwonderwhatweactuallyusedtodoforfun.Besidestakeselfies.”
“Atleasttheywereallgoodselfies.”
Sheshootsmealookofpity.“That’sacontradiction.Therearenosuchthingsasgoodselfies.”
“I’vebeenthroughyourcameraroll.Ibegtodiffer.”
Sheducksherheadandlooksoutherwindow,butIcanseethepinksofhercheeksgrowredder.
Afterwepark,Ihaveabsolutelynoplan.Wefilleduponsomanybeignetsforbreakfast,I’mnotsureshe’squitereadytohavelunchyet.
Wespendthefirstpartoftheafternoonwalkingupanddowneverystreet,stoppinginalmosteverystore.It’sasifwe’rebothsofascinatedbythescenery,weforgetwehaveagoaltoday.I’msupposedtomakeherswoon.She’ssupposedtoswoonandfallinlovewithme.Getbackontrack,Silas.
We’reonDauphineStreetwhenwewalkpastwhatclaimstobeabookstore.Charlieturnsaroundandgrabsmyhands.“Comeon,”shesays,pullingmeintothestore.“I’mprettysurethewaytomyheartisinhere.”
Therearebooksstackedfloortoceiling,everywhichway.Sideways,toptobottom,booksusedasshelvesformorebooks.Amansitsbehindacashregistertotheright,whichiscoveredinevenmorebooks.Henodsagreetingasweenter.Charlieheadstothebackofthestore,whichisn’tveryfaraway.It’sasmallstore,buttherearemorebooksthanamancouldreadinhisentirelife.Sherunsherfingersalongthebooksasshepassesthem,lookingup,down,around.Sheactuallytwirlswhenshegetstotheendoftheaisle.She’sdefinitelyinherelement,whethersheremembersornot.
She’sfacingacorner,pullingaredbookofftheshelf.IwalkupbehindherandgiveheranotherSilasSaystask.
“Silassays…openthebooktoarandompageandreadthefirstfewsentencesyousee…”
Shechuckles.“That’seasy.”
“Iwasn’tfinished,”Isay.“Silassaysreadthesentencesatthetopofyourlungs.”
Shespinsaroundtofaceme,eyeswide.Butthenamischievousgrindragsacrosshermouth.Shestandsuptallwhileholdingthebookoutinfrontofher.“Fine,”shesays.“Youaskedforit.”Sheclearsherthroat,andthen,asloudasshecan,shereads,“‘ITMADEMEWANTTOMARRYHER!MADEMEWANTTOBUYHERAMAGICAIRPLANEANDFLYHERAWAYTOAPLACEWHERENOTHINGBADCOULDEVERHAPPEN!MADEMEWANTTOPOURRUBBERCEMENTALLOVERMYCHESTANDTHENLAYDOWNONTOPOFHERSOTHATWE’DBESTUCKTOGETHER,ANDSOITWOULDHURTLIKEHELLIFWEEVERTRIEDTOTEAROURSELVESAPART!’”
Charlieislaughingwhenshefinishes.Butwhenthewordsshereadbegintoregister,herlaughterfades.Sherunsherfingersoverthesentencesliketheymeansomethingtoher.“Thatwasreallysweet,”shesays.Sheflipsthroughthepagesofthebookuntilshecomestoastopwithherfingeronadifferentparagraph.Then,injustbarelyawhisper,shebeginsreadingagain.“‘Fateisthemagneticpullofoursoulstowardthepeople,places,andthingswebelongwith.’”
Shestaresatthebookforamomentandthenclosesit.Sheplacesitbackontheshelf,butshemovestwobooksoutofthewaysothatthisbookcanbedisplayedmoreprominently.“Doyoubelievethat?”
“Whichpart?”
Sheleansagainstawallofbooksandstaresovermyshoulder.“Thatoursoulsarepulledtowardthepeoplewebelongwith.”
Ireachouttoherandpullatalockofherhair.Irunmyfingersdownitandtwirlitaroundmyfinger.“Idon’tknowifInormallybelieveinsoulmates,”Itellher.“Butforthenexttwenty-fourhours,I’dbetmylifeforittobetrue.”
Sherollshershoulderuntilherbackispressedagainstthewallofbooks,andshe’sfacingme.Iwouldabsolutelybetmylifeonfaterightnow.Isomehowhavemorefeelingsforthisgirlthanwillfitinsideofme.AndIwantmorethananythingforhertofeelthesamething.Towantthesamething.Which…inthisverymoment…isformymouthtobeonhers.
“Charlie…”Ireleaseherlockofhairandbringmyhandtohercheek.Itouchhergently…tracinghercheekbonewithmyfingertips.Herbreathsareshallowandquick.“Kissme.”
Sheleansintomyhandalittleandhereyesflutter.Foramoment,Ithinkshemightactuallydoit.Butthenasmilestealsherheatedexpressionandshesays,“Silasdidn’tsay.”Shedartsundermyarmanddisappearsdownthenextaisle.Idon’tfollowher.IgrabthebookshereadfromandtuckitundermyarmasIheadfortheregister.
SheknowswhatI’mdoing.ThewholetimeI’mattheregister,she’swatchingmefromdowntheaisle.AfterIpurchasethebook,Iwalkoutsideandletthedoorshutbehindme.Iwaitafewsecondstoseeifshefollowsmeimmediatelyout,butshedoesn’t.SamestubbornCharlie.
Ipullthebackpackoffmyshoulderandshovethebookinsideofit.
ThenIpulloutmycameraandturniton.
Shestaysinsidethebookstoreforanotherhalfhour.Idon’tmindit.IknowsheknowsI’mstillouthere.Itakepictureafterpicture,engrossedinthepeoplewhopassbyandthewaythesunissettingoverthebuildings,castingshadowsoneventhesmallestofthings.Itakepicturesofallofit.WhenCharliefinallymakesitbackoutside,mybatteryisalmostdead.
Shewalksuptomeandsays,“Where’smybook?”
Ihoistthebackpackovermyshoulder.“Ididn’tbuythatbookforyou.Iboughtitforme.”
ShehuffsandfollowsaftermeasImakemywaydownthestreet.“That’snotagoodmove,Silas.You’resupposedtobethoughtful.Notselfish.Iwanttofallinlovewithyou,notbecomeirritatedwithyou.”
Ilaugh.“WhydoIfeellikeloveandirritationgohandinhandwithyou?”
“Well,youhaveknownmelongerthanI’veknownmyself.”Shegrabsmyhandtopullmetoastop.“Look!Crawfish!”Sheyanksmeinthedirectionoftherestaurant.“Dowelikecrawfish?I’msohungry!”
Turnsout,wedonotlikecrawfish.Luckily,theyhadchickenstripsonthemenu.Webothlikechicken,apparently.
“Weshouldwritethatdownsomewhere,”shesays,walkingbackwarddownthemiddleofthestreet.“Thatwehatecrawfish.Idon’twanttohavetogothroughthatawfulexperienceagain.”
“Wait!You’reaboutto…”Charliefallsonherbuttbeforetherestofthesentencecanmakeitoutofmymouth.“Walkintoapothole,”Ifinish.
Ireachdowntohelpherup,butthere’snotmuchIcandoaboutherpants.Wehadfinallydriedoffaftertherainfromearliertoday,andnowshe’ssoakingwetagain.Thistimefrommuddywater.“Youokay?”Iask,tryingnottolaugh.Tryingbeingthekeywordhere.BecauseI’mlaughingharderthanI’velaughedallday
“Yeah,yeah,”shesaysassheattemptstowipemudfromherpantsandherhands.I’mstilllaughingwhenshenarrowshereyesandpointsdownatthemudpuddle.“Charliesayssitinthepothole,Silas.”
Ishakemyhead.“No.Noway.ThegameiscalledSilasSays,notCharlieSays.”
Shearchesaneyebrow.“Oh,really?”Shetakesastepclosertomeandsays,“Charliesayssitinthepothole.IfSilasdoeswhatCharliesays,CharliewilldowhateverSilassays.”
Isthataninvitationofsorts?I’mlikingflirtatiousCharlie.Iglancedownatthepothole.It’snotthatdeep.IturnaroundandlowermyselfuntilI’msittingcross-leggedinthepuddleofmuddywater.IkeepmyeyesonCharlie’sface,notwantingtowitnesstheattentionwe’reprobablyattractingfrombystanders.Sheswallowsbackherlaughter,butIcanseethepleasureshe’sgettingoutofthis.
IstaysittinginthepotholeuntilitevenstartstoembarrassCharlie.Afterseveralseconds,Ileanbackontomyelbowsandcrossmylegs.Someonesnapsapictureofmeinthepothole,soshemotionsformetostand.“Getup,”shesays,glancingaround.“Hurry.”
Ishakemyhead.“Ican’t.Charliedidn’tsay.”
Shegrabsmyhand,laughing.“Charliesaysgetup,youidiot.”Shehelpsmetomyfeetandgrabsmyshirt,pressingherfaceagainstmychest.“Oh,myGod,they’reallstaringatus.”
Iwrapmyarmsaroundherandbegintoswaybackandforth,whichisprobablynotwhatshewasexpectingmetodo.Shelooksupatme,myshirtstillclenchedinherfists.“Canwegonow?Let’sgo.”
Ishakemyhead.“Silassaysdance.”
Hereyebrowscrinkletogether.“Youcan’tbeserious!”
Thereareseveralpeoplestoppedonthestreetnow,someofthemtakingpicturesofus.Isortofdon’tblamethem.I’dprobablytakepicturesofanidiotwhowillinglysatinamudpuddle,too.
IunclenchherfistsfrommyshirtandmakeherholdmyhandsasIforcehertodancetonon-existentmusic.She’sstiffatfirst,butthensheseemstoletthelaughtertakeovertheembarrassment.WeswayanddancedownBourbonStreet,bumpingintopeopleaswego.Thewholetime,she’sgigglinglikeshedoesn’thaveacareintheworld.
Afterafewminutes,wecometoabreakinthecrowd.Istoptwirlingherlongenoughtopullhertomychestandswaysoftly,backandforth.
She’slookingupatme,shakingherhead.“You’recrazy,SilasNash,”shesays.
Inod.“Good.That’swhatyouloveaboutme.”
Hersmilefadesforamomentandthelookshehasinhereyescausesmetostopswaying.Sheplacesherpalmovermyheartandstaresatthebackofherhand.Ialreadyknowshe’snotfeelingaheartbeatinsidemychest.It’smorelikeadrumlineinmidprocession.
Hereyesmeetmineagain.Shepartsherlipsandwhispers,“Charliesays…kissCharlie.”
IwouldhavekissedherevenifCharliedidn’tsay.Myhandwrapsinherhairasinglesecondbeforemylipsmeethers.Whenhermouthpartsformine,itfeelsasthoughshepunchesaholestraightthroughmychestandmakesafistaroundmyheart.Ithurts,itdoesn’t,it’sbeautiful,it’sterrifying.Iwantittolastforeternity,butI’llrunoutofbreathifthiskissgoesonforjustonemoreminute.Myarmwrapsaroundherwaist,andwhenIpullhercloser,shemoansquietlyintomymouth.Jesus.
TheonlythingIhaveroomforinthisheadofminerightnowisthefirmbeliefthatfateabsolutelyexists.Fate…soulmates…timetravel…younameit.Itallexists.Becausethat’swhatherkissfeelslike.Existence
We’remomentarilyjoltedwhensomeonebumpsintous.Ourmouthsseparate,butittakesefforttofreeourselvesfromwhateverholdjusttookover.Themusicfromalltheopendoorsalongthestreetcomesbackintofocus.Thelights,thepeople,thelaughter.Alltheexternalthingsthattensecondsofherkissjustblockedoutarerushingback.Thesunissetting,andnighttimeseemstotransformthisentirestreetfromoneworldtoanother.Ican’tthinkofanythingIwantmorethantogetheroutofhere.Neitherofusseemstobeabletomove,though,andmyarmfeelslikeitweighstwentypoundswhenIreachforherhand.Sheslidesherfingersthroughmineandwebeginwalkinginsilencebacktowardtheparkinglotwheremycaris.
Neitherofusspeaksawordtheentirewalkback.Oncewe’rebothinsidemycar,Iwaitamomentbeforecrankingit.Thingsaretooheavy.Idon’twanttostartdrivinguntilwegetoutwhateveritisweneedtosay.Kisseslikethatcan’tlingerwithoutacknowledgment.
“Nowwhat?”sheasks,staringoutthewindow.
Iwatchherforamoment,butshedoesn’tmove.It’sasifshe’sfrozen.
Suspendedintimebetweenthelastkissandournextone.
Ibuckleupandputthecarindrive.Nowwhat?Ihavenoidea.Iwanttokissherlikethatamillionmoretimes,buteverysinglekisswouldendjustlikethatonedid.WiththefearthatIwon’trememberittomorrow.
“Weshouldgobackhomeandgetadecentnight’ssleep,”Isay.“Wealsoneedtomakemorenotesincase…”Icutmyselfoff.
Shepullsonherseatbelt.“Incasesoulmatesdon’texist…”shefinishes.43
Charlie
DuringourdrivetoSilas’shouse,Ithinkabouteverythingwe’velearnedtoday.Ithinkaboutmyfatherandhowheisn’tagoodhuman.Partofmeisscaredthatbeingagoodpersonisinherent.I’vereadenoughabouthowIusedtobetoknowthatIdidn’ttreatpeopleverywell.Silasincluded.IcanonlyhopethatthepersonIturnedouttobewastheresultofoutsideinfluences,andnotbecausethat’swhoI’llalwaysbe.Avindictive,cheatingshellofaperson.
IopenthebackpackandbeginreadingmorenoteswhileSilasdrives.IcomeacrosssomethingaboutfilesthatSilasstolefromhisfather,andhowwesuspecttheymightimplicatemyfather.WhywouldSilasstealthosefromhisfather?Ifmyfatherisguilty,whichIbelieveheis,whywouldSilaswanttohidethat?
“Whydoyouthinkyoustolethosefilesfromyourfather?”Iaskhim.
Heshrugs.“Idon’tknow.TheonlythingIcancomeupwithisthatmaybeIhidthembecauseIfeltbadforyou.MaybeIdidn’twantyourfathertogotoprisonforlongerthanhealreadywas,becauseitwouldhavebrokenyourheart.”
ThatsoundslikesomethingSilaswoulddo.“Aretheystillinyourroom?”Iaskhim.
Silasnods.“Ithinkso.I’mprettysureIreadsomewherethatIkeepthemnearmybed.”
“Whenwegettoyourhousetonight,Ithinkyoushouldgivethemtoyourfather.”
Silasglancesatmeacrosstheseats.“Areyousureaboutthat?”
Inod.“He’sruinedalotoflives,Silas.Hedeservestopayforthat.”
“Charliedidn’tknowyouhadthese?”
I’mstandingoutsideSilas’sfather’sstudy.WhenwewalkedinthedoorandhesawmewithSilas,Ithoughthewasgoingtohithim.Silastoldhimtogivehimfiveminutestoexplain.Heranupstairsandgotthefilesandbroughtthembackdowntohisfather.
Ican’theartheirentireconversation.Silasisexplainingtohimthathehidthemtoprotectme.He’sapologizing.Hisfatherisquiet.Andthen…
“Charlie?Canyoucomeinhere,please?”
Hisfatherscaresme.Notinthewaymyfatherscaredme.ClarkNashisintimidating,buthedoesn’tseemevil.NotlikeBrettWynwood.
IwalkintohisofficeandhemotionsformetotakeaseatnexttoSilas.Ido.Hepacesthelengthofhisdeskafewtimesandthenstops.Whenhefacesus,he’slookingdirectlyatme.
“Ioweyouanapology.”
I’msurehecanseetheshockinmyexpression.“Youdo?”
Henods.“I’vebeenharshonyou.Whatyourfatherdidtome—toourcompany—thathadnothingtodowithyou.YetIblamedyouwhenthefileswentmissing,becauseIknewhowfiercelyyoustoodbyhim.”HeglancesbackatSilasandsays,“I’dbelyingifIsaidIwasn’tdisappointedinyou,Silas.Interferingwithafederalinvestigation…”
“Iwassixteen,Dad.Ididn’tknowwhatIwasdoing.ButIdonow,andCharlieandIbothwanttomakethingsright.”
ClarkNashnodsandthenwalksaroundhisdesktotakeaseat.“Sodoesthismeanwe’llbeseeingyouaroundmoreoften,Charlie?”
IglanceatSilasandthenbackathisfather.“Yes,sir.”
Hesmilesalittlebit,andhissmilelooksjustlikeSilas’ssmile.Clarkshouldsmilemoreoften.
“Verywell,then,”hesays.
SilasandIbothtakethatasourcuetoleave.Aswe’rewalkingupthestairs,Silaspretend-falls,sinkingdownonthetopstairasheclutcheshischest.“Christ,thatmanisterrifying,”hesays.
Ilaughandpullhimbacktohisfeet.
Atleastifthingsdon’tworkoutinourfavortomorrow,we’llhavedoneonegooddeed.
“Charlie,youwereagoodsporttoday,”Silassays,tossingmeat-shirt.I’msittingcross-leggedonhisfloor.Icatchitandshakeitouttoseewhat’sonthefront.It’sacampt-shirt.Hedoesn’tofferpants.
“Isthatyourwayofflirtingwithme?”Iask.“Bringingsportintoyourcompliments?”
Silasmakesaface.“Lookaroundthisroom.Doyouseeanythingsportsrelated?”
It’strue.Heseemstobemoreintophotographythananythingelse.“You’reonthefootballteam,”Isay.
“Yeah,well,Idon’twanttobe.”
“Charliesaysquitthefootballteam,”Itellhim.
“MaybeIwill,”hesays.Withthat,heswingsopenhisbedroomdoor.Icanhearhimrushingdownthestairstwoatatime.Iwaitamomenttoseewhathe’supto,andthenshortlythereafter,he’srunningbackupthestairs.Hisdoorswingsbackopenandhesmiles.“IjusttoldmyfatherIquitthefootballteam,”hesaysproudly.
“Whatdidhesay?”
Heshrugs.“Idon’tknow.Imustbescaredofhim,becauseIranbackupstairsassoonasItoldhim.”Hewinksatme.“Andwhatareyouquitting,Charlize?”
“Mydad.”Myanswercomeseasy.“Charlieneedstowalkawayfromthingsthatstuntheremotionalgrowth.”
Silasstopswhathe’sdoingtolookatme.It’saweirdlook.OneI’mnotfamiliarwith.
“What?”Isuddenlyfeeldefensive.
Heshakeshishead.“Nothing.Itwasagoodthought,that’sall.”
Ihugmykneesandstareatthecarpet.Whywasitthatwhenhecomplimentedmemyentirebodywentintooverdrive?Surelyhisopinionscouldn’tmatterthatmuchtoCharlie.Tome.SurelyIwouldrememberiftheydid.Whoseopinionswerereallysupposedtomatterinlife,anyway?Yourparents’?Minewerescrewedup.Yourboyfriend’s?Ifyouweren’tdatingasaintlikeSilasNash,thatcouldgoverywrong.IthinkaboutwhatIwouldtellJanetteifshewereaskingthisquestion.
“Trustyourgut,”Isayoutloud.
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Silasasks.He’sdiggingaroundinaboxhefoundinhiscloset,butheleansbackonhishaunchestolookatme.
“Trustyourgut.Notyourheart,becauseit’sapeoplepleaser,andnotyourbrain,becauseitreliestooheavilyonlogic.”
Henodsslowly,nevertakinghiseyesoffofme.“Charlize,it’sreallysexywhenyougetdeepandsaystufflikethat.SounlessyouwanttoplayanotherroundofSilasSays,youmightwanttolayoffthedeepthinking.”
Iputdownthet-shirtandstareathim.Ithinkabouttoday.IthinkaboutourkissandhowIwouldbealiarifIsaidIwasn’thopinghewouldkissmelikethatagaintonight.Thistimeinprivate,withoutadozeneyesonus.Ireachdownandtugatapieceofthecarpet.Icanfeelmyfacegrowwarm.
“WhatifIdowanttoplayanotherroundofSilasSays?”Iask.
“Charlie…”hestarts,almostasifmynameisawarning.
“WhatwouldSilassay?”
HestandsupandsodoI.Iwatchhimrunahandacrossthebackofhisneck,myheartpoundinglikeit’stryingtobreakfreeandrunoutoftheroombeforeSilascangettoit.
“Areyousureyouwanttoplay?”heasks,rakingovermewithhiseyes.
Inod.Becausewhynot?Accordingtoourletters,itwon’tbethefirsttimewe’vedonethis.Andchancesare,weprobablywon’tevenrememberittomorrow.“I’mpositive,”Isay,attemptingtocomeoffwaymoreconfidentthanIfeelrightnow.“It’smyfavoritethingtodo.”
Hesuddenlylooksfirm,moreplantedinhisownskin.It’sthrillingtowatch.
“Silassays…takeoffyourshirt.”
Iraisemyeyebrows,butdoasI’mtold,liftingthehemofmyshirtovermyhead.Ihearhisintakeofbreath,butIcan’tseemtomeethiseyes.Thestrapofmybraslipsdownmyshoulder.
“Silassays…lowertheotherbrastrap.”
MyhandshakesalittleasIdo.Hetakesaslowsteptowardme,staringdowntowheremyarmisstillcrossedovermychest.Hiseyesflickeruptomine.Hismouthturnsupatthecorner.HethinksI’mabouttoquitplayingthisgame.Icantell.
“Silassays…opentheclasp.”
It’safrontclasp.IkeepmyeyeslockedwithhisasIunlatchit.HisAdam’sapplebobsasIshrugoffmybraandholditonthetipofmyfinger.Thecoldairandhiseyesmakemewanttoturnaway.Hisgazefollowsmybraasitfallstothefloor.Whenhemakeseyecontactwithmeagain,he’ssmiling.Buthe’snot.Idon’tknowhedoesthat—lookssohappyandsoseriousatthesametime.
“Silassayscomehere.”
I’mnotabletoturnawaywhenhelooksatmelikethat.Iwalktowardhim,andwhenI’mnearenough,hereachesforme.Heputshishandbehindmyheadandthreadshisfingersthroughmyhair.
“Silassays—”
“Shutup,Silas,”Iinterrupt.“Justkissme.”
Hisheaddipsandhecatchesmylipsinadeepkissthattiltsmyheaduptomeethim.Hepresseshismouthagainstmineinasoftkiss,once,twice,threetimesbeforepartingmylipswithhistongue.KissingSilasfeelsrhythmic,likewe’vehadmorethanjustthisafternoontofigureitout.Hishandtightlygrippingmyhairatthescalpmakesmeweakintheknees.Iamoutofbreathandmyeyesareglazed.
DoItrusthim?
Itrusthim.
“Charliesaystakeyourshirtoff,”Isayagainsthismouth.
“ThisgameiscalledSilasSays.”
Irunmyhandsupthewarmfleshofhisstomach.“Notanymore.”44
Silas
“Charliebaby,”Iwhisper,slidinganarmoverher.Ipressmylipsagainstthecurveofhershoulder.Sherustles,thenpullsthecoversoverherhead.“Charlie,it’stimetowakeup.”
Sherollsovertofacemebutstaysundertheblanket.Iliftitovermyheaduntilwe’rebothcovered.Sheopenshereyesandfrowns.“Yousmellgood,”shesays.“Nofair.”
“Itookashower.”
“Andbrushedyourteeth?”
Inod,andherbrowfurrows.
“That’snotfair.Iwanttobrushmyteeth.”
Iliftthecoversfromherheadandsheputsahandoverhereyesandgroans.“Thenhurryupandbrushyourteethsoyoucancomebackandkissme.”
Shecrawlsoutofthebedandmakesherwaytothebathroom.Ihearthesinkbegintorun,butthat’squicklydrownedoutbythenoisesthatcomefromdownstairs.Potsandpansclankingtogether,cabinetdoorsslamming.Itsoundslikesomeoneiscleaning.Ilookattheclockandit’salmost9am.
Twomorehours.
MybathroomdooropensandCharlierunsacrosstheroomandhopsontothebed,quicklypullingthecoversoverherself.“It’scoldoutthere,”shesays,herlipsquivering.Ipullhertomeandpressmymouthtohers.“Better,”shemumbles.
AndthisiswhatwedowhileItrymybesttolosetrackoftime.Wemakeout.
“Silas,”shewhispersasI’mworkingmywayupherneck.“Whattimeisit?”
Ireachovertothenightstandandlookatmyphone.“Ninefifteen.”Shesighs,andIknowexactlywhatshe’sthinking.I’mthinkingittoo.
“Idon’twanttoforgetthispart,”shesays,lookingatmethrougheyesthatlookliketwobrokenhearts.
“Meneither,”Iwhisper.
Shekissesmeagain,softly.Icanfeelherheartracingthroughherchest,andIknowitisn’tbecausewe’rekissingundermycovers.It’sbecauseshe’sscared.AndIwishIcouldmakeittowheresheisn’tscaredanymore,butIcan’t.Ijustpullhertomeandholdher.Iwouldholdherhereforever,butIknowtherearethingsweneedtobedoingrightnow.
“Wecanhopeforthebest,butIthinkweshouldpreparefortheworst,”Itellher.
Shenodsagainstmychest.“Iknow.Fivemoreminutes,okay?Let’sjuststayundertheblanketforfivemoreminutesandpretendwe’reinlovelikeweusedtobe.”
Isigh.“Pretendingisn’tnecessaryformeatthispoint,Charlie.”Shegrinsandpressesherlipstomychest.
Igiveherfifteenminutes.Fiveisn’tenough.
Whenourtimeisup,Icrawloutofbedandpullherup.“Weneedtoeatbreakfast.Thatwayif11amhitsandwefreakoutagain,it’llbeafewhoursbeforewehavetoworryaboutfood.”
Wegetdressedandheaddownstairs.Ezralookslikeshe’scleaningupbreakfastwhenwewalkintothekitchen.SheseesCharlierubbingsleepoutofhereyesandsheraisesaneyebrowinmydirection.ShethinksI’mpushingmyluckhavingCharlieinthishouse.
“Don’tworry,Ezra.DadsaysI’mallowedtolovehernow.”Ezrareturnsmysmile.
“Youtwohungry?”sheasks.
Inod.“Yeah,butwecanmakeourownfood.”
Ezrawavesahandintheair.“Nonsense,”shesays.“I’llmakeyourfavorite.”
“Thanks,Ezra,”Charliesayswithasmile.AmildlookofsurprisepassesoverEzra’sfacebeforeshewalkstothepantry.
“MyGod,”Charliesaysunderherbreath.“DoyouthinkIreallyusedtobethatawful?Thatitwasshockingtoeverhearmesaythankyou?”
Aboutthattime,mymotherwalksintothekitchen.ShestopsshortwhensheseesCharlie.“Didyouspendthenighthere?”Mymotherdoesn’tseemverypleased
“No.”IlieforCharlie.“Ijustpickedherupthismorning.”
Mymother’seyesnarrow.Idon’thavetohavememoryofhertoknowshe’ssuspicious.“Whyaren’tyoutwoatschoolrightnow?”
We’rebothquietforamoment,butthenCharlieblurtsout,“It’saflexday.”
Mymothernodswithoutquestion.ShewalkstothepantryandbeginsspeakingtoEzra.
“What’saflexday?”Iwhisper.
Charlieshrugs.“Ihavenoidea,butitsoundedgood.”Shelaughsandthenwhispers,“What’syourmother’sname?”
Iopenmymouthtorespond,butIdrawacompleteblank.“Ihavenoidea.I’mnotsureIeverwroteitinanynotes.”
Mymotherpeeksherheadoutofthepantry.“Charlie,willyoubejoiningusfordinnertonight?”
Charlielooksatme,andthenatmymother.“Yes,ma’am.IfIcanremember.”
IlaughandCharliesmiles,andforasplitsecond,Iforgetwhatwe’reabouttogothroughagain.
IcatchCharliestaringattheclockontheoven.Icanseetheworry,notonlyinhereyes,butineverysinglepartofher.Igrabherhandandsqueezeit.“Don’tthinkaboutthat,”Iwhisper.“Notforanotherhour.”
“Ihavenoideahowanyonecouldpossiblyforgethowmagnificentthisis,”Charliesays,takingthelastbiteofwhateveritwasthatEzracookedforus.Somemightcallitbreakfast,butfoodlikethisdeservesitsowncategory.
“Whatisthisagain?”CharlieasksEzra.
“NutellaFrenchtoast,”sheresponds.
CharliewritesNutellaFrenchtoastdownonapieceofpaperandscribblestwoheartsnexttoit.Thensheaddsafollow-upsentencethatsays,Youhatecrawfish,Charlie!!!
Beforeweleavethekitchenandheadbacktomyroom,CharliewalksovertoEzraandgivesherabighug.“Thankyouforbreakfast,Ezra.”
Ezrapausesamomentbeforehuggingherback.“You’rewelcome,Charlize.”
“WillyoumakethatformenexttimeI’mhereforbreakfast?NomatterifIcan’tremembereatingittoday?”
Ezrashrugsandsays,“Iguess.”
Aswe’rewalkingupstairs,Charlierandomlysays,“Youknowwhat?Ithinkmoneyiswhatmadeusmean.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”WereachmybedroomandIclosethedoorbehindus.
“Itjustseemslikemaybewewereungrateful.Alittlebitspoiled.I’mnotsureourparentstaughtushowtobedecenthumans.Soinaway…I’mgratefulthishappenedtous.”
Isitonthebedandpullherbackagainstmychest.Sherestsherheadonmyshoulderandtiltsherfaceuptomine.“Ithinkyouwerealwaysalittlenicerthanme.ButIdon’tthinkeitherofuscanbeproudofwhowewere.”
Igiveheraquickpeckonthelipsandleanmyheadbackagainstthewall.“Ithinkwewereaproductofourenvironment.Inherently,we’regoodpeople.Wemightloseourmemoriesagain,butwe’restillthesameontheinside.Somewheredeepdown,wewanttodogood.Begood.Deepdownweloveeachother.Alot.Andwhateverthisisthat’shappeningtous,it’snottouchingthat.”
Sheslidesherfingersthroughmineandsqueezes.Wesitinsilenceforalittlewhile.EverynowandthenI’llglanceatmyphone.Wehaveabouttenminutesleftuntil11am,andIdon’tthinkeitherofusknowshowtospendthattime.We’vealreadywrittenmorenotesthanwe’llbeabletocomprehendinthenextforty-eighthours.
Allwecandoiswait.45
Charlie
Myheartisbeatingsohard,it’slosingrhythm.Mymouthisdry.IgrabthebottleofwatersittingonSilas’snightstandanddownabigdrink.“Thisisterrifying,”Itellhim.“Iwishwecouldspeedupthenextfiveminutesandgetthisoverwith.”
Hesitsupstraighteronthebedandgrabsmyhand.“Sitinfrontofme.”
Isitinfrontofhim.We’rebothcross-leggedonthebed,inthesamepositionwewereinatthehotelroomtwodaysago.Thinkingofthatmorningmakesmeill.Idon’twanttoacknowledgethepossibilitythatinafewminutes,Imightnotknowwhoheis.
Ihavetohavefaiththistime.Thiscan’tgoonforever.Canit?
Iclosemyeyesandtrytocontrolmybreathing.IfeelSilas’shandreachupandbrushthehairfrommyeyes.
“What’stheonethingyou’rethemostscaredofforgetting?”heasks.
Iopenmyeyes.“You.”
Hebrusheshisthumbovermymouthandleansintokissme.“Metoo.Iloveyou,Charlie.”
AndwithouthesitationIsay,“Iloveyou,too,Silas.”
Whenhislipsmeetmine,I’mnolongerscared.BecauseIknowthatwhateverhappensinthenextfewseconds…it’llhappenwithSilas,andthatbringsmecomfort.
Hethreadsourfingerstogetherandsays,“Tenseconds.”
Webothinhaledeepbreaths.Icanfeelhishandsshaking,buttheyaren’tshakingnearlyasbadlyasmine.
“Five…four…three…two…”46
Silas
TheonlysoundIhearisthethrashingofmyheart.Therestoftheworldischillinglysilent.
Mylipsarestillrestingsoftlyagainsthers.Ourkneesaretouching,oureyesareclosed,ourbreathisminglingbetweenusasIwaittomakemynextmove.IknowforafactthatIdidn’tlosemymemorythistime.Thatmakestwiceinarow…butIhavenoideaaboutCharlie.
IslowlyopenmyeyessothatIcanseewhat’sinhers.Hereyesremainclosed.Iwatchherforafewseconds,waitingtoseewhatherfirstreactionwillbe.
Willsherememberme?
Willshehavenoideawheresheis?
Shebeginstopullback,slowly,andhereyelidsflutteropen.There’samixtureoffearandshockinherexpression.Shepullsbackafewmoreinches,studyingmyface.Sheturnsherheadandlooksaroundtheroom.
Whensheglancesbackatme,myheartplummetsdownmychestlikethedropofananchor.Shehasnoideawheresheis.
“Charlie?”
Hertear-rimmedeyesswingtomineandshequicklycovershermouthwithherhand.Ican’ttellifshe’sabouttoscream.Ishouldhaveputanoteonthedoorlikewedidlasttime.
Shelooksdownatthebedandlowersherhandtoherchest.“Youwerewearingblack,”shewhispers.
Hergazefallstothepillownexttome.Shepointsatit.“Wewererightthere.Youwerewearingablackt-shirt,andIwaslaughingatyoubecauseIsaiditwastootight.IsaiditmadeyoulooklikeSimonCowell.Youpinnedmetothemattress,andthen…”Hereyesmeetmine.“Andthenyoukissedme.”
Inod,becausesomehow…Iremembereverysinglemomentofthat.“Itwasourfirstkiss.Wewerefourteen,”Isay.“ButIhadbeenwantingtokissyoulikethatsinceweweretwelve.”
Sheslapsherhandoverhermouthagain.Sobsbegintorackherentirebody.Shelungesforward,wrappingherarmsaroundmyneck.Ipullherdowntothebedwithmeandeverythingcomesrushingbackinwaves.
“Thenightyougotcaughtsneakingin?”shesays.
“Yourmomwentaftermewithabelt.Chasedmerightoutofyourbedroomwindow.”
Charliestartslaughingbetweenhertears.I’mholdingheragainstme,myfacepressedagainstherneck.Iclosemyeyesandsortthroughallthememories.Thegoodones.Thebadones.Allthenightsshecriedinmyarmsoverthewaythingsturnedoutbetweenhermotherandfather.
“Thephonecalls,”shesaysquietly.“Everysinglenight.”
Iknowexactlywhatshe’stalkingabout.Iwouldcallhereverynightandwewouldstayonthephoneforanentirehour.Whenourmemoriesleftus,wecouldn’tfigureoutwhywehadtalkedforsolongeverynightifourrelationshipwasfallingapart.
“JimmyFallon,”Itellher.“WebothlovedJimmyFallon.AndIwouldcallyoueverynightwhenhisshowwouldcomeon,andwewouldwatchittogether.”
“Butwenevertalked,”shesays.“Wejustwatchedtheshowtogetherwithoutspeakingandthenwe’dgostraighttosleep.”
“BecauseIlovedhearingyoulaugh.”
Notonlyarethememoriesfloodingmerightnow,butthefeelings.AllthefeelingsI’veeverhadforthisgirlareunfolding,andforasecondI’mnotsureifIcantakeitallin.
Weholdeachothertightaswerakethroughalifetimeofmemories.Severalminutespassaswebothlaughatthegoodmemoriesandthenmoreminutespassaswesuccumbtothenotsogoodones.Thehurtourparents’actionsinflictedonus.Thehurtwe’vecausedeachother.Thehurtwe’vecausedotherpeople.We’refeelingeverybitofit,allatonce.
Charlieclenchesmyshirtinherfistsandburiesherfaceinmyneck.“Ithurts,Silas,”shewhispers.“Idon’twanttobethatgirlagain.Howcanwemakesurewe’renotthesamepeoplewewerebeforethishappenedtous?”
Irunmyhandoverthebackofherhead.“Butwearethosepeople,”Isaytoher.“Wecan’ttakebackwhowe’vebeeninthepast,Charlie.Butwecancontrolwhoweareinthepresent.”
Iliftherheadfrommyshoulderandholdherfaceinmyhands.“Charlie,youhavetopromisemesomething.”Iwipehertearsawaywithmythumb.“Promisemeyouwillneverfalloutoflovewithmeagain.BecauseIdon’twanttoforgetyoualloveragain.Ineverwanttoforgetasinglesecondwithyou.”
Sheshakesherhead.“Iswear.I’llneverstoplovingyou,Silas.AndI’llneverforget.”
Idipmyheaduntilmymouthmeetshers.“NeverNever.”EPILOGUE
Twenty-SomethingYearsLater
Charlie
Silasisbringingdinnerhome.IwaitforhimatthekitchenwindowwhileIpretendtowashvegetablesforasalad.IliketopretendI’mwashingthingsatthesinkjustsoIcanseewhenhepullsintothedriveway.
Hiscarpullsintenminuteslater;myfingersareprunedfromthewater.Igrabforadishtowel,feelingthosedamnbutterfliesinmystomach.Theyneverwentaway.FromwhatI’veheard,that’sararethingafterthismanyyearsofmarriage.
Thekidsgetoutofthecarfirst.Jessa,ourdaughter,andthenherboyfriend,Harry.NormallymyeyeswouldgotoSilasnext,butsomethingmakesmelingeronJessaandHarry.
Jessaisjustlikeme:stubborn,mouthy,andaloof.I’dcry,butshemostlymakesmelaughwithherone-liners.IlikeHarry;they’vebeentogethersincefreshmanyearandplanongoingtothesamecollegewhentheygraduatenextyear.They’reusuallytheepitomeofteenlove,allglassyeyedandtouchylikeSilasandIusedtobe.Stillare.Buttoday,Jessastandsofftothesideofthedriveway,herarmsfoldedacrossherchest.
Harrygetsoutofthecartooandgoestostandnexttoher.Theymustbefighting,Ithink.Jessasometimeslikestoflirtwiththeneighborkid,andHarrygetsupset.
Silaswalksinaminutelater.Hegrabsmefrombehind,wrappinghisarmsaroundmeandkissingmyneck.
“Hey,Charliebaby,”hesays,breathingmein.Ileanintohim.
“What’supwiththosetwo?”Iask,stillwatchingthemoutthewindow.
“Idon’tknow.Theywerereallyweirdontheridehome.Barelyspoke.”
“Uh,oh,”Isay.“Mustbethehotneighborboyagain.”Ihearthefrontdoorslam,andIcallJessaintothekitchen.“Jessa,comehere!”Shewandersin,slowly,withoutHarryintow.
“What’sup?”Iaskher.“Youlookshellshocked.”
“DoI?”sheasks.
IlookatSilasandheshrugs.
“Where’sHarry?”
Jessajabsathumboverhershoulder.“He’sinthere.”
“Okay,well,youtwogetreadyfordinner.We’lleatassoonasthesaladisdone.”
Shenods,andIswearshe’sgoingtostartcrying.
“Hey,Jessa,”Isayassheturnsaroundtoleave.
“Yeah?”
“IwasthinkingwecouldgotoMiamiforyourbirthdaynextmonth.Doesthatsoundokaytoyou?”
“Yeah,”shesays.“Cool.”
Whenshe’sgoneIturntoSilas,whoseeyebrowsaredrawntogether.
“Ididn’tknowweweregoingtoMiami,”hesays.“Ican’tgettimeoffforworkthatquick.”
“Silas,”Isaysharply.“Herbirthdayisn’tforsixmoremonths.”
Thelinebetweenhiseyesrelaxesandhismouthopens.“Oh,yeah,”hesays.Andthenrealizationhits.“Oh.Oh.”Hebringsahanduptothebackofhisneck“Shit,Charlie.Notagain.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THANKYOUTOOURREADERS.
YOUMEANTHEWORLDTOUS.
~TARRYNANDCOLLEENAVERYSPECIALBONUSFEATURE
THEASTROLOGICALPROFILEOF
CharlieWynwood&SilasNashSILAS
Birthday:December7thSunSign:Sagittarius
Sagittariansaretheexplorersofthezodiac.Wildandadventurous—andsometimescurioustoafault—theyareonaperpetualquesttodiscovernotonlytheworldaroundthem,buttheworldwithinthem,too.Theyhaveaninsatiableappetiteforknowledgeandtruthandcanberelentlessintheirpursuittogetwhattheywant.Theyknowthatwhileexternalknowledgeiseasytocomebyandusefultoanextent,self-knowledgeholdsmorevalueandmorepowerinthelongrun.It’snosurprisethatSilasusesphotographytocapturetheworldaroundhim,andtoholdontomemoriesinamoretangibleway.OneoftheFireSigns,Sagittariansburnbrightandareupforanything,wantingtolivelifetothefullest,andwillneverturndownachancetohavefun.Theyareloversofspontaneityandexcitementtothepointofrecklessnessandhatetheideaofsettlingdowntoapredictablelife.Asaresult,theydon’tfallinloveeasilybutbadlywantsomeonewillingtogoontheirjourneywiththem.ThiscouldnotbemoreevidentthaninSilas’srelationshipwithCharlie.Whilehe’slovedhersincehecouldwalk,whentheylosetheirmemories,itforcesthemtogoonadifferentkindofjourneytogether.Sagittariansarethesupremerealistsofthezodiac,andwillalwayschoosetheirvaluesovertheirfeelings,yetwilloftenformopinionsbasedontheirfierceemotions.
Attheirbest,Sagittariansarecourageousandhonest,andarethemostloyalfriends.They’rethelifeoftheparty,andendlessfuntobearound.Theyareoneofthemostgeneroussignsinthezodiac,andtheirboundlessoptimismisinfectious.Attheirworst,Sagittarianscanbeerraticandunfocused,neverfinishingwhattheystart.Intenseandenergetic,Sagittariansspeaktheirmind,andtheirbrutalhonestycangetthemintotrouble.Theyrebelagainstauthorityandwon’tbetoldwhattodo,andtheirnaturalconfidencecanbetakenasarrogance.SilasisatrueSagittariusineveryway,andheneverfailstofightforCharlie.CHARLIE
Birthday:March21stSunSign:Aries
Ariesisthefirstsigninthezodiac,andruledbytheHouseofSelf,whichmakesthembraveanddazzling,butthere’sanaggressivequalitytothefirsthousethatcanmakethemdemandinganddiva-like.Withtheresponsibilityofleadingthezodiac,Ariesfeelcompelledtopickupthetorchandleadtheway.Ariesaredrivenbyadesiretoprovethemselvesandtheirstrength,andnaturallytakechargeandarecompetitiveandambitious.Thisfiresignhastheabilitytomovemountains;theythrowthemselvesattheworldwiththeimpulsiveness,energy,andpersistenceoftheRamthatrepresentsthem.Charlieactsimpulsivelythroughoutthebook,andyetherconfidencealwaysallowshertomovethroughsituationstogettheanswerssheneeds.
Unafraidofconflict,Ariesdowhattheywant,anddothingstheirway.Theyaren’tafraidtomakethefirstmovewhenitcomestoloveandfriendships.Oneofthemostpassionatesignsofthezodiac,theyarefearless,andwon’tlettheideaoffailurestopthemfromchasingaftertheirwildestdreams.WhileAriesenjoycompetition,theydon’tliketoplaygames.Theyarehighlyself-aware,havestrongopinions,anddon’tliketowastetime.Evenwithouthermemories,Charliepicksapathandfollowsit,trustinghergut.Charlieisn’tadamselindistress—whenshesensesthatsomethingiswrong,shedoesn’twaitaroundtoberescued.
Attheirbest,Ariesarecourageousandconfident,hard-workingwithahighsenseofduty.Theyappreciatehonestyaboveallelse.Ariesareenthusiasticabouteverythinginlife,andputtheirwholeheartandsoulintoalltheirundertakings.Notcontenttositbackandwait,theygooutandmaketheirownluck.Attheirworst,Ariesareimpatient,jealous,andhotheaded.Knownfortheirfierytempers,theydonotapologizefortheiranger.Whentheysay“Idon’tcare,”theymeanit.Ariesoftencausetheirownturmoil;theywanttofeelthingsintensely,whichiswhytheycansometimesreactoutofheightenedemotion.IntrueAriesfashion,Charlieembodiesherfeelings.Whenherfathergoestoprison,shepushesSilasaway,doingeverythingshecantohurthim.ButsheshowsherloveforSilasjustasintensely.ARIESANDSAGITTARIUSINLOVE
WhatwouldarelationshipbetweenAriesandSagittariuslooklike?Well,definitelysomethingpassionateandfiery!Asfriendsoraslovers,AriesandSagittariusareaperfectmatch.Thesetwosignsaresimilarinmanyways—they’rebothadventurous,optimistic,anddynamic.Therewillneverbeadullmomentintherelationship;AriesandSagittariusareabletomatcheachother’sstrengthsanddesireforexcitementandfreedom.Ontherareoccasiontheyfight,thingsmaybecomeexplosiveasthesetwovolatilesignsrisksayinghurtfulthingswithoutthinking,buttheirangerwillflameoutasquicklyasitsparks.Thedepthoftheirfeelingswillalwaysreunitethem,justasFatecontinuallyresetsSilas’sandCharlie’smemoriesat11:00a.m.everyday,thetimeoftheirveryfirstkiss.
Whenitcomestoromance,neitherAriesnorSagittariuscareaboutgrandgestures.Chocolatesandflowers?Notforthesetwo!Instead,theyareeachother’sride-or-die.Moresubtleorpermanentexpressionsoftheirloyalty,liketattoos,willholdmoreappealforthesesigns.ThequietbutmeaningfultimeCharlieandSilasspendonthephoneeverynightwatchingtelevision,justtoheareachotherbreathe,holdsmorevaluethananytokentheycouldbuy.Theywillsupporteachother,nomatterwhathappens,andfaceanyissueasateam.Together,theywillfeelunstoppable.Becausethisfireduorecognizesalittlebitofthemselvesineachother,theirmutualunderstandingandrespectrundeep.SagittariusmightbereluctanttosettledowninarelationshipjustasArieswon’tfallinlovethateasily.Buteveniftheystruggletogetonthesamepageaboutthedepthoftheirfeelings,it’sabondthatcan’tbebroken.
Discovermoredark,domesticthrillersfromNewYorkTimes
bestsellingauthorTarrynFisher,
availablenowwhereverbooksaresoldTheWives
Imaginethatyourhusbandhastwootherwives.
You’venevermettheotherwives.Noneofyouknoweachother,andbecauseofthisunconventionalarrangement,youcanseeyourhusbandonlyonedayaweek.Butyoulovehimsomuchyoudon’tcare.Oratleastthat’swhatyou’vetoldyourself.
Butoneday,whileyou’redoinglaundry,youfindascrapofpaperinhispocket—anappointmentreminderforawomannamedHannah,andyoujustknowit’sanotherofthewives.
Youthoughtyouwerefinewithyourarrangement,butyoucan’thelpyourself:youtrackherdown,and,underfalsepretenses,youstrikeupafriendship.Hannahhasnoideawhoyoureallyare.ThenHannahstartsshowinguptoyourcoffeedateswithtelltalebruises,andyourealizeshe’sbeingabusedbyherhusband.Who,ofcourse,isalsoyourhusband.Butyou’veneverknownhimtobeviolent,ever.
Whoexactlyisyourhusband,andhowfarwouldyoubewillingtogotofindout?
“You’llhavewhiplashuntiltheveryend.TheWiveswillleavethemostsure-footedreaderuneasyuntilthelastwordisread.”
—ColleenHoover,NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorTheWivesbyTarrynFisherOne
HecomesoveronThursdayofeveryweek.That’smyday,I’mThursday.It’sahopefulday,lostinthemiddleofthemoreimportantdays;notthebeginningortheend,butastop.Anappetizertotheweekend.SometimesIwonderabouttheotherdaysandiftheywonderaboutme.That’showwomenare,right?Alwayswonderingabouteachother—curiosityandspitecurdlingtogetherinlittleemotionalpuddles.Littlegoodthatdoes;ifyouwondertoohard,you’llgeteverythingwrong.
Isetthetablefortwo.I’malittlebuzzedasIlayoutthesilverware,pausingtoconsidertheetiquetteofwhatgoeswhere.Irunmytonguealongmyteethandshakemyhead.I’mbeingsilly;it’sjustmeandSethtonight—anat-homedate.Notthatthere’sanythingelse—wedon’tdoregulardatesveryoftenattheriskofbeingseen.Imaginethat…notwantingtobeseenwithyourhusband.Oryourhusbandnotwantingtobeseenwithyou.ThevodkaIsippedearlierhaswarmedme,mademylimbslooseandcareless.IalmostknockoverthevaseofflowersasIplaceaforknexttoaplate:abouquetofthepalestpinkroses.Ichosethemfortheirsexualinnuendobecausewhenyou’reinapositionlikemine,beingontopofyoursexualgameisoftheutmostimportance.Lookatthesedelicate,pinkpetals.Dotheymakeyouthinkofmyclit?Good!
Totherightofthevaginalflowerssittwowhitecandlesinsilvercandlestickholders.Mymotheroncetoldmethatundertheflickeringlightofacandleflame,awomancanalmostlooktenyearsyounger.Mymothercaredaboutthosethings.Everysixweeksadoctorslidaneedleintoherforehead,pumpingthirtycc’sofBotoxintoherdermis.Shehadasubscriptiontoeveryglossyfashionmagazineyoucouldnameandcollectedbooksonhowtokeepyourhusband.Noonetriesthathardtokeeptheirhusbandunlessthey’vealreadylosthim.Iusedtothinkhershallowbackwhenmyidealswereuntaintedbyreality.Ihadbigplanstobeanythingbutmymother:tobeloved,tobesuccessful,tomakebeautifulchildren.Butthetruthisthattheheart’sdesireisamerecurrentagainstthetideofnurtureandnature.Youcanspendyourwholelifeswimmingagainstitandeventuallyyou’llgettiredandthecurrentofgenesandupbringingwillpullyouunder.Ibecamealotlikeherandalittlebitlikeme.
Irollthewheelofthelighterwithmythumbandholdtheflameabovethewick.ThelighterisaZippo,thewornremnantsofaUnionJackflagonthecasing.Theflickeringtongueremindsmeofmybriefstintwithsmoking.Tolookcool,mostly—Ineverinhaled,butIlivedtoseethatglowingcherryatmyfingertips.MyparentsboughtthecandleholdersformeasahousewarminggiftafterIsawtheminaTiffany’scatalog.Ifoundthemtobepredictablyclassy.Whenyou’renewlymarried,youseeapairofcandlestickholdersandimaginealifetimeofroastdinnersthatwillgoalongwiththem.Dinnersmuchliketheonewe’rehavingtonight.Mylifeisalmostperfect.
IglanceoutthebaywindowasIfoldthenapkins,theviewoftheparkspreadoutbeneathme.It’sgrayoutside,typicalofSeattle.TheviewoftheparkiswhyIchosethisparticularunitinsteadofthemuchlarger,nicerunitoverlookingElliottBay.Whilemostpeoplewouldhavechosentheviewofthewater,Ipreferaviewofpeople’slives.Asilver-hairedcouplesitsonabench,staringoutatthepathwaywherecyclistsandjoggerspasseveryfewminutes.They’renottouching,thoughtheirheadsmoveinunisonwheneversomeonegoesby.IwonderifthatwillbeSethandmeoneday,andthenmycheekswarmasIthinkoftheothers.Imaginingwhatthefutureholdsprovesdifficultwhenfactoringintwootherwomenwhoshareyourhusband.
IsetoutthebottleofpinotgrigiothatIchosefromthemarketearliertoday.Thelabelisboring,notsomethingthatcatchestheeye,buttheaustere-lookingmanwhosoldittomehaddescribeditstasteingreatdetail,rubbinghisfingerstogetherashespoke.Ican’trecallwhathe’dsaid,eventhoughitwasonlyafewhoursago.I’dbeendistracted,focusedonthetaskofcollectingingredients.Cooking,mymothertaughtme,istheonlygoodwaytobeawife.
Standingback,Iexaminemywork.Overall,it’sanimpressivetable,butIamqueenofpresentation,afterall.Everythingisjustright,thewayhelikesit,andthus,thewayIlikeit.It’snotthatIdon’thaveapersonality;it’sjustthateverythingIamisreservedforhim.Asitshouldbe.
Atsixo’clocksharp,Ihearthekeyturninthelockandthenthewhistleofthedooropening.Iheartheclickasitcloses,andhiskeyshittingthetableintheentryway.Sethisneverlate,andwhenyoulivealifeascomplicatedashis,orderisimportant.IsmoothdownthehairIsopainstakinglycurledandstepfromthekitchenintothehallwaytogreethim.He’slookingdownatthemailinhishand,raindropsclingingtothetipsofhishair.
“Yougotthemail!Thankyou.”I’membarrassedbytheenthusiasminmyvoice.It’sjustthemail,forGod’ssake.
Hesetsthepiledownonthelittlemarbletableintheentryway,nexttohiskeys,andsmiles.Thereisatiltinmybelly,heatandaflurryofexcitement.Istepintothebreadthofhim,inhalinghisscent,andburyingmyfaceinhisneck.It’saniceneck,tanandwide.Itholdsupaverygoodheadofhairandafacethatistraditionallyhandsomewiththetiniestbitofroguishscruff.Inestleintohim.Fivedaysisalongtimetogowithoutthemanyoulove.Inmyyouth,Iconsideredloveaburden.Howcouldyougetanythingdonewhenyouhadtoconsidersomeoneelseeverysecondoftheday?WhenImetSeth,thatallwentoutthewindow.Ibecamemymother:doting,yielding,spread-eagleemotionallyandsexually.Itboththrilledandrevoltedme.
“Imissedyou,”Itellhim.
Ikisstheundersideofhischin,thenthetenderspotbeneathhisear,andthenstandonmytiptoestoreachhismouth.Iamthirstyforhisattentionandmykissisaggressiveanddeep.Hemoansfromthebackofhisthroat,andhisbriefcasedropstothefloorwithathud.Hewrapshisarmsaroundme.
“Thatwasanicehello,”hesays.Twoofhisfingersplaytheknobsofmyspinelikeasaxophone.HemassagesthemgentlyuntilIsquirmcloser.
“I’dgiveyouabetterone,butdinnerisready.”
Hiseyesbecomesmoky,andIsilentlythrill.Iturnedhimoninundertwominutes.Iwanttosay,Beatthat,buttowhom?Somethinguncoilsinmystomach,aribbonunrolling,unrolling.Itrytocatchitbeforeitgoestoofar.WhydoIalwayshavetothinkofthem?Thekeytomakingthisworkisnotthinkingofthem.
“Whatdidyoumake?”Heunravelsthescarffromhisneckandloopsitaroundmine,pullingmecloseandkissingmeoncemore.Hisvoiceiswarmagainstmycoldtrance,andIpushmyfeelingsaside,determinednottoruinournighttogether.
“Smellsgood.”
Ismileandsashayintothediningroom—alittlehiptogowithhisdinner.Ipauseinthedoorwaytonotehisreactiontothetable.
“Youmakeeverythingbeautiful.”Hereachesforme,hisstrong,tannedhandstrackedwithveins,butIdanceaway,teasing.Behindhim,thewindowisrinsedwithrain.Iglanceoverhisshoulder—thecoupleonthebencharegone.Whatdidtheygohometo?Chinesetakeout…cannedsoup…?
Imoveontothekitchen,makingsureSeth’seyesareonme.Experiencehastaughtmethatyoucandragaman’seyesifyoumovetherightway.
“Arackoflamb,”Icallovermyshoulder.“Couscous…”
Heplucksthebottleofwinefromthetable,holdingitbytheneckandtiltingitdowntostudythelabel.“Thisisagoodwine.”Sethisnotsupposedtodrinkwine;hedoesn’twiththeothers.Religiousreasons.HemakesanexceptionformeandIchalkituptoanotheroneofmysmallvictories.Ihaveluredhimintodeepredmerlotsandcrispchardonnays.We’vekissed,andlaughed,andfuckeddrunk.Onlywithme;hehasn’tdonethatwiththem.
Silly,Iknow.Ichosethislifeandit’snotaboutcompeting,it’saboutproviding,butonecan’thelpbutkeepatallywhenotherwomenareinvolved.
WhenIreturnfromthekitchenwithdinnerclutchedbetweentwodishtowels,hehaspouredthewineandisstaringoutthewindowwhilehesips.Beneaththetwelfth-floorwindow,thecityhumshernightlyrhythm.Abusystreetcutsapathinfrontofthepark.TotherightoftheparkandjustoutofviewistheSound,dottedwithsailboatsandferriesinthesummer,andmaskedwithfoginthewinter.Fromourbedroomwindow,youcanseeit—awideexpanseofstandingwaterandfallingwater.TheperfectSeattleview.
“Idon’tcareaboutdinner,”hesays.“Iwantyounow.”Hisvoiceiscommanding;Sethleaveslittleroomforquestions.It’satraitthathasservedhimwellinallareasofhislife.
Isettheplattersonthetable,myappetiteforonethinggoneandreplacedbyanother.Iwatchasheblowsoutthecandles,nevertakinghiseyesfromme,andthenIwalktothebedroom,reachingaroundandunzippingmydressasIgo.Idoitslowlysohecanwatch,peelingoffthelayerofsilk.Ifeelhimbehindme:thelargepresence,thewarmth,theanticipationofwhat’stocome.Myperfectdinnercoolsonthetable,thefatofthelambcongealingaroundtheedgesoftheservingdishinorangesandcreamsasIslipoutofthedressandbendatthewaist,lettingmyhandssinkintothebed.I’mwrist-deepinthedowncomforterwhenhisfingersgrazemyhipsandhookintheelasticwaistofmypanties.Hepullsthemdown,andwhentheyflutteraroundmyankles,Ikickfreeofthem.
Thetinkofmetalandthenthezzzweeepofhisbelt.Hedoesn’tundress—there’sjustthemutedsoundofhispantsfallingtohisankles.
After,Iwarmourdinnerinthemicrowave,wrappedinmyrobe.Thereisathrobbingbetweenmylegs,atrickleofsemenonmythigh;Iamsoreinthebestpossibleway.Icarryhisplatetowhereheislyingshirtlessonthecouch,onearmthrownoverhishead—animageofexhaustion.Icannotremovethegrinfrommylips,thoughItry.It’sabreakinmyusualfacade,thisgrinninglikeaschoolgirl.
“You’rebeautiful,”hesayswhenheseesme.Hisvoiceisgrufflikeitalwaysispostsex.“Youfeltsogood.”Hereachesuptorubmythighashetakeshisplate.“Let’stalkaboutthatvacationwe’retaking.Wheredoyouwanttogo?”ThisistheessenceofpostcoitalconversationwithSeth:helikestotalkaboutthefutureafterhecomes.
DoIremember?OfcourseIremember.Irearrangemyfacesothatitlookssurprised.
He’sbeenpromisingavacationforayear.Justthetwoofus.
Myheartbeatsfaster.I’vebeenwaitingforthis.Ididn’twanttopushitsincehe’sbeensobusy,buthereitis—myyear.I’veimaginedalltheplaceswecango.I’venarroweditdowntoabeach.Whitesandsandlapislazuliwater,longwalksalongthewater’sedgeholdinghandsinpublic.Inpublic.
“Iwasthinkingsomewherewarm,”Isay.Idon’tmakeeyecontact—Idon’twanthimtoseehoweagerIamtohavehimtomyself.Iamneedy,andjealous,andpetty.IletmyrobefallopenasIbendtosethiswineonthecoffeetable.HereachesinsideandcupsmybreastlikeIknewhewould.Heispredictableinsomeways.
“TurksandCaicos?”hesuggests.“Trinidad?”
Yesandyes!
Loweringmyselfintothearmchairthatfacesthesofa,Icrossmylegssothatmyrobeslipsopenandrevealsmythigh.
“Youchoose,”Isay.“You’vebeenmoreplacesthanIhave.”Iknowhelikesthat,tomakethedecisions.AndwhatdoIcarewherewego?SolongasIgethimforaweek,uninterrupted,unshared.Forthatweek,hewillbeonlymine.Afantasy.NowcomesthetimeIbothdreadandlivefor.
“Seth,tellmeaboutyourweek.”
Hesetshisplatedownandrubsthetipsofhisfingerstogether.Theyareglisteningfromthegreaseofthemeat.Iwanttogooverandputhisfingersinmymouth,suckthemclean.
“Mondayissick,thebaby…”
“Oh,no,”Isay.“She’sstillinherfirsttrimester,soitwillbethatwayforafewmoreweeks.”
Henods,asmallsmileplayingonhislips.“She’sveryexcited,despitethesickness.Iboughtheroneofthosebabynamebooks.ShehighlightsthenamesshelikesandthenwelookthroughthemwhenIseeher.”
Ifeelaspikeofjealousyandpushitasideimmediately.Thisisthehighlightofmyweek,hearingabouttheothers.Idon’twanttoruinitwithpettyfeelings.
“That’ssoexciting,”Isay.“Doesshewantaboyoragirl?”
Helaughsashewalksovertothekitchentosethisplateinthesink.Ihearthewaterrunningandthenthelidofthetrashcanashethrowshispapertowelaway.
“Shewantsaboy.Withdarkhair,likemine.ButIthinkwhateverwehavewillhaveblondhair,likehers.”
IpictureMondayinmymind—long,pin-straightblondhair,asurfer’stan.She’sleanandmuscularwithperfectwhiteteeth.Shelaughsalot—mostlyatthethingshesays—andisyouthfullyinlove.Hetoldmeoncethatsheistwenty-fivebutlookslikeacollegegirl.Normally,I’djudgeamanforthat,theclichéwaymenwantyoungerwomen,butitisn’ttrueofhim.Sethlikestheconnection.
“You’llletmeknowassoonasyouknowwhatyou’rehaving?”
“It’sawaysoff,butyes.”Hesmiles,thecornerofhismouthmovingup.“Wehaveadoctor’sappointmentnextweek.I’llhavetoheadstraightoveronMondaymorning.”HewinksatmeandIamnotskilledenoughtohidemyflush.Mylegsarecrossedandmyfootbouncesupanddownaswarmthfillsmybelly.Hehasthesameeffectonmeashehadonthefirstdaywemet.
“CanImakeyouadrink?”Iask,standingup.
IwalkovertothebarandhitPlayonthestereo.Ofcoursehewantsadrink,healwayswantsadrinkontheeveningswhenwe’retogether.HetoldmethathesecretlykeepsabottleofScotchattheofficenow,andImentallygloatatmybadinfluence.TomWaitsbeginstosingandIreachforthedecanterofvodka.
IusedtoaskaboutTuesday,butSethismorehesitanttotalkabouther.I’vealwayschalkedituptoherbeinginapositionofauthorityasfirstwife.Thefirstwife,thefirstwomanheloved.It’sdauntinginawaytoknowI’monlyhissecondchoice.I’veconsoledmyselfwiththatfactthatIamSeth’slegalwife,thateventhoughthey’restilltogether,hehadtodivorcehertomarryme.Idon’tlikeTuesday.She’sselfish;hercareertakesthemostdominantroleinherlife—thespaceIreserveforSeth.AndwhileIdisapprove,Ican’tentirelyblameher,either.He’sgonefivedaysoftheweek.Wehaveonerotatingdaythatwetaketurnswith,butit’sourjobtofilltheweekwiththingsthataren’thim:stupidthingsforme—potterymaking,romancenovelsandNetflix;butforTuesday,it’shercareer.Irootaroundinthepocketofmyrobe,searchingformyChapStick.Wehaveentirelivesoutsideofourmarriage.It’stheonlywaytostaysane.
Pizzafordinneragain?Iusedtoask.He’dadmittedtomeoncethatTuesdaywasatakeout-orderinggirlratherthanacookinggirl.
Alwayssojudgmentalaboutotherpeople’scookingskills,he’dtease.
Isetuptwoglassesandfillthemwithice.IcanhearSethmovingbehindme,gettingupfromthecouch.ThesodabottlehissesasItwistoffthecapandtopofftheglasses.BeforeI’mfinishedmakingourdrinks,he’sbehindme,kissingmyneck.Idipmyheadtothesidetogivehimbetteraccess.HetakeshisdrinkfrommeandwalksovertothewindowwhileIsit.
Ilookoverfrommyspotonthecouch,myglasssweatyagainstmypalm.
Sethlowershimselfnexttomeonthecouch,settinghisdrinkonthecoffeetable.Hereachestorubmyneckwhilehelaughs.
Hiseyesaredancing,flirtatious.Ifellinlovewiththoseeyesandthewaytheyalwaysseemedtobelaughing.Iliftonecornerofmymouthinasmileandleanbackintohim,enjoyingthesolidfeelofhisbodyagainstmyback.Hisfingerstrailupanddownmyarm.
What’slefttodiscuss?IwanttomakesureI’mfamiliarwithallareasofhislife.“Thebusiness…?”
“Alex…”Hepauses.Iwatchasherunsthepadofhisthumbacrosshisbottomlip,ahabitI’mendearedto.
Whathashedonenow?
“Icaughthiminanotherlie,”hesays.
AlexisSeth’sbusinesspartner;theystartedthecompanytogether.ForaslongasIcanremember,Alexhasbeenthefaceofthebusiness:meetingwithclientsandsecuringthejobs,whileSethistheonewhomanagestheactualbuildingofthehomes,dealingwiththingslikethecontractorsandinspections.Sethhastoldmethattheveryfirsttimetheybuttedheadswasoverthenameofthecompany:Alexwantedhislastnametobeincorporatedintothenameofthebusiness,whileSethwantedittoincludethePacificNorthwest.They’dfoughtitoutandsettledonEmeraldCityDevelopment.Overthelastyearstheirattentiontodetailandsheerbeautyofthehomestheybuildhassecuredthemseveralhigh-profileclients.IhavenevermetAlex;hedoesn’tknowIexist.HethinksSeth’swifeisTuesday.WhenSethandTuesdaywerefirstmarried,they’dgoonvacationswithAlexandhiswife—oncetoHawaiiandanothertimeonaskiholidaytoBanff.I’veseenAlexinphotos.He’saninchshorterthanhiswife,Barbara,whoisaformerMissUtah.Squatandbalding,hehasaclose-lippedsmugnessabouthim.
TherearesomanypeopleIhaven’tmet.Seth’sparents,forexample,andhischildhoodfriends.Assecondwife,Imayneverhavethechance.
“Oh?”Isay.“What’sup?”
Myexistenceisexhausting,allofthegamesIplay.Thisisawoman’scurse.Bedirect,butnottoodirect.Bestrong,butnottoostrong.Askquestions,butnottoomany.Itakeasipofmydrinkandsitonthecouchnexttohim.
“Doyouenjoythis?”heasks.“It’ssortofstrange,youaskingabout—”
“Ienjoyyou.”Ismile.“Knowingyourworld,whatyoufeelandexperiencewhenyouaren’twithme.”It’strue,isn’tit?Ilovemyhusband,butI’mnottheonlyone.Thereareothers.Myonlypowerismyknowledge.Icanthwart,one-up,fuckhisbrainsoutandfeignanaloofdetachedinterest,allwithafewwell-timedquestions.
Sethsighs,rubbinghiseyeswiththeheelsofhishands.
“Let’sgotobed,”hesays.
Istudyhisface.Fortonight,he’sdonetalkingaboutthem.HeholdsoutahandtohelpmeupandItakeit,lettinghimpullmetomyfeet.
Wemakelovethistime,kissingdeeplyasIwrapmylegsaroundhim.Ishouldn’twonder,butIdo.Howdoesamanlovesomanywomen?Adifferentwomaneveryotherday.AndwheredoIfallinthecategoryoffavor?
Hefallsasleepquickly,butIdonot.ThursdayisthedayIdon’tsleep.Two
OnFridaymorning,SethleavesbeforeIwakeup.Itossedandturneduntilfourandthenmusthavefallenintoadeepsleep,becauseIdidn’thearhimwhenheleft.SometimesIfeellikeagirlwhowakesupaloneinbedafteraone-nightstand,himsneakingoutbeforeshecanaskhisname.IalwayslieinbedlongeronFridaysandstareatthedentinhispillowuntilthesunshinesrightthroughthewindowandintomyeyes.Butthesunhasyettocurlherfingersoverthehorizon,andIstareatthatdentlikeit’sgivingmelife.
Morningsarehard.Inanormalmarriage,youwakeupbesideaperson,validateyourlifewiththeirsleep-soakedbody.Thereareroutines,schedules,andtheygetboring,buttheyareacomfort,aswell.Idonothavethecomfortofnormalcy:asnoringhusbandwhoIkickduringthenight,ortoothpastegluedtothesinkthatIscrubawayinfrustration.Sethcan’tbefeltinthefibersofthishome,andmostdaysthatmakesmyheartheavy.He’sbarelyhereandthenhe’sgone,offtoanotherwoman’sbedwhileminegrowscold.
Iglanceatmyphone,apprehensionmakingcurlicuesinmybelly.Idon’tliketotexthim.Iimagineheisfloodedwithtextseverydayfromtheothers,butthismorningIhavetheurgetoreachformyphoneandtexthim:Imissyou.Heknows,surelyheknows.Whenyoudon’tseeyourhusbandforsixdaysoutoftheweekhemustknowthatyoumisshim.ButIdon’treachformyphone,andIdon’ttexthim.Resolutely,Ithrowmylegsoverthesideofthebedandslidemyfeetintomyslippersinstead,mytoescurlingintothesoftfleeceinside.Theslippersarepartofmyroutine,myreachfornormalcy.Iwalktothekitchen,glancingoutofthewindowatthecitybelow.Thereisasnakeofredbrakelightsdown99ascommuterswaittheirturnatthelight.Wipersswishbackandforth,clearingwindshieldsofthemist-likerain.IwonderifSethisamongthem,butno,hetakes5awayfromhere.Awayfromme.
IopenthefridgeandpulloutaglassbottleofCoke,settingitonthecounter.Idigaroundthesilverwaredrawerforthebottleopener,cursingwhenatoothpickslidesunderneathmyfingernail.IstickthefingerinmymouthasIloosenthecapoffthebottlewithmyfreehand.IonlykeeponebottleofCokeinthefridge,andIhidetherestunderneaththesinkbehindthewateringcan.EachtimeIdrinkthebottle,Ireplaceit.Thatway,itlookslikethesamebottleofCokehasbeensittingthereforever.Thereisnoonetofoolbutmyself.AndperhapsIdon’twantSethtoknowthatIdrinkCokeforbreakfast.HewouldteasemeandIdon’tmindhisteasing,butsodaforbreakfastisnotsomethingyouwantpeopletoknow.WhenIwasalittlegirl,IwastheonlyoneofmyfriendswholikedtoplaywithBarbie.Atten,they’dalreadymovedontomakeupkitsandMTV,askingtheirparentsforclothesforChristmasinsteadofthenewBarbiecampervan.IwasterriblyashamedofmyloveofBarbiedolls—especiallyaftertheymadesuchabigdealoutofit,callingmeababy.Inoneofthesaddestmomentsofmyyounglife,IpackedawaymyBarbiedolls,retiringthemtoaboxinmycloset.Icriedmyselftosleepthatnight,notwantingtopartwithsomethingIlovedsomuchbutknowingtheteasingI’dtakeforitifIdidn’t.Whenmymotherfoundtheboxafewweekslaterwhilepackinglaundryaway,she’dquestionedmeaboutit.Itearfullytoldherthetruth.IwastoooldforBarbieanditwastimetomoveon.
Youcanplaywiththeminsecret.Noonehastoknow.Youdon’thavetogiveupsomethingyoulovejustbecauseotherpeopledisapprove,shesaid.
Secrets:I’mgoodathavingthemandkeepingthem.
Iseethathemadehimselftoastbeforeheleft.Theremnantsofbreadcrumbslitterthecounter,andaknifeliesinthesink,slickwithbutter.Ichastisemyselffornotgettingupearlytomakehimsomething.Nextweek,Itellmyself.NextweekI’llbebetter,I’llfeedmyhusbandbreakfast.I’llbeoneofthosewiveswhodeliverssexandsustenancethreetimesaday.AnxietygripsmystomachandIwonderifMondayandTuesdaygetuptomakehimbreakfast.HaveIbeenslackingallthistime?DoeshethinkofmeasneglectfulbecauseIstayedinbed?Icleanupthecrumbs,swipingthemintomyhandandthenangrilyshakingthemintothesink,andthenIcarrymyCoketothelivingroom.ThebottleiscoldinmypalmandIsip,thinkingofallthewaysIcouldbebetter.
WhenIwakeup,sometimehasgoneby,thelighthaschanged.IsitupandseethebottleofCoketurnedonitsside,abrownstainseepingintothecarpetaroundit.
“Shit,”Isayaloud,standingup.Imusthavedozedoffholdingthebottle.That’swhatIgetforlyingawakeallnight,staringattheceiling.Irushtograbaragandstainsolutiontocleanthecarpetanddroptomyknees,scrubbingfuriously.TheCokehasdriedintotheknottedbeigerug,astickycaramel.Iamangryaboutsomething,Irealizeastearsrolldownmyface.ThedripsjointhestainonthecarpetandIscrubharder.Whenthecarpetisclean,Ifallbackonmyhaunchesandclosemyeyes.Whathashappenedtome?HowhaveIbecomethisdocileperson,livingforThursdaysandtheloveofamanwhodivideshimselfsothinlyamongthreewomen?Ifyou’dtoldnineteen-year-oldmethatthiswouldbemylife,she’dhavelaughedinyourface.
Thedayhefoundmewasfiveyearsago,nextweek.Iwasstudyinginacoffeeshop,myfinalnursingexamloomingaheadofme,awallIdidn’tfeelreadytoclimb.I’dnotsleptintwodays,andIwasatthepointwhereIwasdrinkingcoffeelikeitwaswaterjusttostayawake.Half-delirious,IswayedinmyarmchairasSethsatdownnexttome.Irememberbeingirritatedbyhispresence.Therewerefiveopenarmchairstochoosefrom;whytaketheonerightnexttome?Hewashandsome:glossyblackhairandturquoiseeyes,well-slept,well-groomedandwell-spoken.He’daskedifIwasstudyingtobeanurseandI’dsnappedmyanswer,onlytoapologizeamomentlaterformyrudeness.He’dwavedawaymyapologyandaskedifhecouldquizme.
AlaughburstfrombetweenmylipsuntilIrealizedhewasserious.“YouwanttospendyourFridaynightquizzingahalf-deadnursingstudent?”I’daskedhim
“Sure,”he’dsaid,eyesglowingwithhumor.“IfigureifIgetinyourgoodgraces,youwon’tsaynowhenIaskyoutohavedinnerwithme.”
Irememberfrowningathim,wonderingifitwasajoke.Likehisbuddieshadsenthimovertohumiliatethesadgirlinthecorner.Hewastoohandsome.Histypeneverbotheredwithgirlslikeme.WhileIcertainlywasn’tugly,Iwasontheplainside.MymotheralwayssaidIgotthebrainsandmysister,Torrence,gotthebeauty.
“Areyoubeingserious?”I’dasked.Isuddenlyfeltself-consciousaboutmylimpponytailandlackofmascara.
“OnlyifyoulikeMexican,”he’dsaid.“Ican’tfallforagirlwhodoesn’tlikeMexican.”
“Idon’tlikeMexican,”Itoldhim,andhe’dgrabbedathisheartlikehewasinpain.I’dlaughedatthesightofhim—atoo-handsomemanpretendingtohaveaheartattackinacoffeeshop.
“Justkidding.Whatsortofmessed-uphumandoesn’tlikeMexican?”
Againstmybetterjudgmentanddespitemyinsanelybusyschedule,I’dagreedtomeethimfordinnerthefollowingweek.Agirlhadtoeat,afterall.WhenIpulleduptotherestaurantinmybeat-uplittleFord,I’dhalfexpectedhimnottobethere.ButassoonasIsteppedoutofthecar,Ispottedhimwaitingbytheentrance,justoutofreachoftherain,dropletsspottingtheshouldersofhistrenchcoat.
He’dbeencharmingthroughthefirstcourse,askingmequestionsaboutschool,myfamilyandwhatIplannedtodoafter.I’ddippedchipsinsalsa,tryingtorememberthelasttimeapersonhadtakenthismuchinterestinme.Whollytakenwithhim,I’dansweredeverysingleoneofhisquestionswithenthusiasm,andbythetimedinnerwasfinished,IrealizedIknewnothingabouthim.
“We’llsavethatfordinnernextweek,”he’dsaidwhenIbroughtitup.
“Howdoyouknowtherewillbeanextweek?”Iaskedhim.
Hejustsmiledatme,andIknewrightthenthatIwasintrouble.
Ishoweranddressfortheday,onlypausingtocheckmyphoneasI’monmywayoutthedoor.SinceSethisgoneforfivedaysoftheweek,Ivolunteertotakethelateshiftsthatnooneelsewants.It’sunbearabletobesittinghomeallnightalone,thinkingabouthimbeingwiththeothers.Iprefertokeepmymindbusyatalltimes,keepmyfocus.Fridays,Igotothegymandthenthemarket.SometimesIgrablunchwithagirlfriend,butlatelyeveryoneseemstobetoobusytomeetup.Mostofmyfriendsareeithernewlymarriedornewlymothered,ourlivesallhavingforkedoffintojobsandfamilies.
MyphonesaysthatSethhastextedme.Missyoualready.Can’twaitfornextweek.
IsmilestifflyasIhitthebuttonfortheelevator.It’ssoeasyforhimtoexpressthemissingwhenhealwayshassomeonebyhisside.Ishouldn’tthinklikethat.Iknowheloveseachofus,misseseachofuswhenhe’saway.
ShouldwehavepizzafordinnerwhenIseeyounext?Myattemptatajoke.
Hetextsbackimmediately,sendingthelaugh/cryemoji.Whatdidpeopledobeforeemojis?Itseemsliketheonlyreasonablewaytolightenaloadedsentence.
ItuckmyphonebackintomypurseasIstepintotheelevator,asmallsmileonmylips.Evenonmyhardestdays,alittletextfromSethmakeseverythingallright.Andthereareplentyofharddays,dayswhereIfeelinadequateorinsecureaboutmyroleinhislife.
Iloveyoualldifferentlybutequally.
Iwantedtoknowwhatthatmeant,thespecifics.Wasitsexual?Emotional?Andifhehadtochoose,ifhehadaguntohishead,wouldhepickme?
WhenSethfirsttoldmeabouthiswife,wewereatanItalianrestaurantcalledLaSpigaonCapitolHill.Itwasourfourthdate.Theawkwardnessoftwopeoplegettingtoknoweachotherhadrolledaway,andamorecomfortablephasehadtakenitsplace.Wewereholdinghandsbythen…kissing.He’dsaidhehadsomethingtotalktomeaboutandI’dplannedforperhapsaconversationaboutwhereourrelationshipwasgoing.Assoonasthewordwifewasoutofhismouth,I’dsetmyforkdown,wipedanypastasaucefrommylips,pickedupmypurseandleft.He’dchasedmedownthestreetjustasIwashailingataxi,andthenourserverhadchasedhimdown,demandingtobepaidforourpartiallyeatenmeal.We’dallstoodonthesidewalkawkwardlyuntilSethpleadedwithmetocomebackinside.I’ddonesohesitantly,butpartofmewantedtohearwhathehadtosay.Andhowwasthereanythingtosay?Howcouldamanjustifysomethinglikethat?
“Iknowhowitsounds,trustme.”He’dtakenanextralongswigofwinebeforecontinuing.“It’snotaboutsex.Idon’thaveanaddiction,ifthat’swhatyou’rethinking.”
ItwasexactlywhatIwasthinkingactually.I’dfoldedmyarmsacrossmychestandwaited.Outofthecornerofmyeye,Isawourserverlingeringnearby.Iwonderedifhewaswaitingforustomakeanotherrunoutoftherestaurantandabandonthecheck.
“Myfather…”hestarted.Irolledmyeyes.Halftheknownworldcouldstartanexcusewith“myfather.”Nevertheless,Iwaitedforhimtocontinue.Iwasawomanofmyword.
Thewordsglidedoverme:“Myparents…polygamists…fourmothers.”
Istaredathiminshock.Itwaslikebeinghalfwaydownaguy’spantswhenhetoldyouhewasreallyawoman.AtfirstIthoughthewaslying,makingabadjoke,butI’dseensomethinginhiseyes.He’dgivenmeatenderspotofinformationandhewaswaitingtobejudged.Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Whatresponsewasappropriate?Yousawthatsortofthingontelevision,butinreallife…?
“IgrewupinUtah,”hecontinued.“IleftassoonasIturnedeighteen.IsworeIwasagainsteverythingtheybelievedin.”
“Idon’tunderstand,”Isaid.AndIdidn’t.Iwastense,myhandsclenchedunderthetable,nailsdiggingintomypalms.
He’drunahandacrosshisface,suddenlylookingtenyearsolder.
“Mywifedoesn’twantchildren,”hetoldme.“I’mnotthatguy,theonewhopressuresawomantobesomethingshe’snot.”
I’dseenhimwithadifferentsetofeyesthen—adadwithonekidonhisshouldersandanotherathisfeet.IcecreamsundaesandT-ballgames.HehadthesamedreamsthatIdid,thatmostofusdid.
“So,wheredoIcomein?You’relookingforabreederandIfityourtype?”Iwasbeingantagonistic,butitwasaneasystab.Whyhadhechosenme,andwhosaidIevenwantedchildren?
Helookedstungbymyaccusation,butIdidn’tfeelbadaboutsayingit.Menlikehimmademesick.ButIhadcomebacktothetabletohearhimout,andIwould.Atthetime,itwasthemostabsurdthingI’deverheard.Hehadawife,butwantedanewone.Tostartafamily.Whothehelldidhethinkhewas?ItwassickandItoldhimso.
“Iunderstand,”he’dsaid,downtrodden.“Icompletelyunderstand.”Afterthat,hepaidthebillandwewentourseparateways,megivinghimachillygoodbye.Hetoldmelaterthatheneverexpectedtohearfrommeagain,butI’dgonehomeandtossedandturnedinbedallnight,unabletosleep.
ButIlikedhim.Ireally,reallylikedhim.Therewassomethingabouthim—acharisma,maybe,oraperceptiveness—eitherway,henevermademefeellesswhenIwaswithhim.NotliketheboysI’ddatedincollege,wholookedattheirownreflectioninyoureyes,andconsideredyoua“rightnow”relationship.WhenIwaswithSeth,Ifeltliketheonlyone.I’dshovedallofthosefeelingsasidetogrievetheendofwhatIhadthoughtwasthepromisingstartofanewrelationship.I’devengoneonafewdates,onewithafiremanfromBellevueandanotherwithasmallbusinessownerinSeattle.Bothdatesendedmiserablyforme,asIonlycomparedthementoSeth.Andthen,aboutamonthlater,aftergrievingmoredeeplythanIshouldforamanIbarelyknew,Iworkedupthenervetocallhim.
“Imissyou,”Isaidassoonashepickedup.“Idon’twanttomissyoubutIdo.”
AndthenI’daskedifhiswifeknewifhewaslookingforsomeonenewtohavehisbabies.TherewasalongpauseonSeth’send,longerthanIwouldhaveliked.IwasabouttotellhimtoforgetIevenaskedwhenherepliedwithabreathy,“Yes.”
“Wait,”Isaid,pressingthephoneclosertomyear.“Didyousayyes?”
“Weagreedonthistogether,”hesaidwithmoreconfidence.“ThatIneededtobewithsomeonewhowantedthesamethingsasIdo.”
“Youtoldher?”Iaskedagain.
“Afterourfirstdate,IthoughtwehadsomethingandItoldherthat.Iknewitwasarisk,butwehadsomething.Aconnection.”
“Andshewasjustokaywithit?”
“No…yes.Imean,it’shard.Shesaiditwastimetolookatouroptions.Thatshelovedmebutunderstood.”
I’mquietonmyendofthephone,digestingeverythinghewassaying.
“CanIseeyou?”he’dasked.“Justforadrinkoracoffee.Somethingsimple.”
Iwantedtosayno,tobethetypeofstrong,resolvedwomanwhodidn’tbudge.Butinstead,Ifoundmyselfmakingplanstomeethimatalocalcoffeeshopthefollowingweek.WhenIhungup,IhadtoremindmyselfthatI’dbeentheonetocallhimandhehadn’tmanipulatedmeintoanything.You’reincontrol,Itoldmyself.You’llbehislegalwife.
Iwasso,sowrong.
Copyright?2019byTarrynFisherAnHonestLie
They’vetakenyourfriend,butonlytogettoyou.
Lorraine—“Rainy”—livesatthetopofTigerMountain.Remote,moody,cloisteredinpinetreesandfog,it’sasanctuary,anewlife.Shecanhidefromthedisturbingpastshewantstoforget.Ifshe’sallowedto.
WhenRainyreluctantlyagreestoagirls’weekendinVegas,she’spreparedforanexhaustingparadeofshotsandslotmachines.Butafterawildnight,herfriendBraithedoesn’tcomebacktothehotelroom.
AndthenRainygetsthetextmessage,sentfromBraithe’sphone:someonehasher.ButRainyiswhotheyreallywant,andRainyknowswhy.
Whatfollowsisatwisted,shockingjourneyontheknifeedgeoflifeanddeath.IfshewantstosaveBraithe—andherself—theonlywayistostepbackintothepast.
“Dark,disturbinganddeliciouslyaddictive.”
—B.A.Paris,NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorAnHonestLiebyTarrynFisher
Attheendofthehighwaysatanoldtown,notcompletelydead,butonitslastbreath.Therewasnoreasontogothereunlessyouwerelostor,inhercase,tryingtobefound.Shestaredpastthecandy-coloredlights,theredsandbluesandlilacs,totheemptydesertbeyond…toFriendship.Thatwaswhereitbeganfifteenyearsago,andwhathadbeguntherewouldneverreallyend.Twobirdswithonestone,shethought.Twovultures.
Herphonelitup,drawinghereyesawayfromthewindow.
Braithe:I’mgoingtokillher.Youbettercomeifyouwanttosaveher.1
Now
Ittoweredonhigh,ablackhousethronedonamountainandsurroundedbylushfoliage.TheconstantflowofwaterfromtheskynourishedthesucculentshadesofgreenonTigerMountain.Herhousewasatthehighestpoint,acaketopper.Shelikedtothinkofthemountainashers,buttheroadthatledtothebottomofthemountainpassedbymanyhouses.SheknewonlyahandfuloftheiroccupantsShefeltlessdeterminedthanshehadfiveminutesago.Shecouldgohome,sayshewasn’tfeelingwellorgiveanotherflimsyexcuse,butdutykeptherleftfootjumpingbetweengasandbrakeasshenavigatedthecurves.
Dutytowhom?Shemetherowneyesintherearviewmirror,andthenquicklylookedawaybeforeturningleftdownadriveway.Rainyfelthertitsliftandslapbackagainstherribcageasheroldtruckclearedapothole;she’dforgottentoputonabra.Trashy,shethought.Brakingsharplyinfrontoftheshed,shethrewthetruckintoParkandhoppedout.ThehousewasaCapeCod,paintedwhitewithblacktrimandsetbackfromtheroadonacozylotborderedbymountainhemlock.SostarkwasthecomparisontoherownultramodernhomethatRainyalwayspausedtoadmirethewarmcharmoftheMattsonhouse.EachofthehousesonTigerMountainweremarvelouslydifferent;that’swhatbothsheandGrantlovedthemostaboutlivingthere.
Asshesteppedawayfromthecar,herbootscrunchedagainstthegravelinthedriveway,andshekeptherheaddownagainsttherainassheclimbedthethreestairsthatledtothedoor.Shecouldheartheminside,theirvoicesfillingupthehousewithacacophonyofsound.Rainyhatedthispart:walkingintoaroomandhavingalleyesonher.Theywouldcheckherclothes,notingthelackofeffort,seethatshewasbraless,wonder—shewassure—whatGrantsawinher.Sherangthebellandbenttounlaceherboots.BythetimeBraitheMattsonopenedherfrontdoor,Rainyhadkickedthemoffandwasstandinginhersocks.One,shenoticed,wasofthefloralvariety,andtheotherplainwhite.Itwastoolatetodoanythingaboutit.
“Itoldyoutostopringingthebellandjustcomeinside,”Braithesaid.
Shedidn’thavetimetorespond.Braithepulledherthroughthedoor,andRainyhadtoreworkherfaceasherhostcorralledhertowardthekitchenwherethewomenusuallyhungout.
“Workingtoday?”Braitheglancedoverhershoulder,eyeingRainy’sblackjeansandT-shirt.ButRainydidn’tsenseanyjudgment,justcuriosity.Braithewas—forlackofamoreinterestingword—kind.Shenodded,andBraithe’sfacelitwithhappiness.Shewasararity:afriendwhounderstoodthat,foranartist,aproductivedayofworkwashardtocomeby.Rainyfeltasurgeofaffectionforher.She’donlyknownBraithefortheyearshe’dlivedthere,butthey’dfallenintoaneasy,noncommittalfriendshipthatincludedanoccasionaldinnerdowntownandtextsaboutnothinginparticular.ThatdipyoumadeonFridaynightwasamazing.DidyouwatchtheJustinBieberdocumentary?TheboyswanttogobowlingFridaynight,youdown?
FollowingBraithepasttheformalareasofthehome,shebracedherself,keepinghereyesonthebackofherfriend’shead,dreadingtheroutineofthenextfiveminutes.TherewasnothingmorepainfultoRainythanthewaywomengreetedeachother:thehigh-pitchedsquealsofjoy,thetouchingandhugging,theexaggeratedexpressionsthataccompaniedthesmalltalk.Thehigh,singsongvoicessaying,“Howareyouuuuuuuu?”Bonuspointsiftheydeliveredacomplimentabouthairoroutfit.InhercirclesinNewYork,herartistfriendsnevertouched;theykissedtheairbesidehercheekandaskedhowshewasinthesamesentencetheyinquiredaboutherbag.Theydidn’twaitfortheanswer—thatwasthebestparttoRainy—buthere,theywantedheranswer.Here,theyaskedandexpectedtoreceive.
BraitheMattson’skitchenwasstarkwhite,asidefromthelarge,blackbutcher-blockislandthatsatatitscenter.Aclusterofwomenwereseatedaroundit,seemingtoglowunderBraithe’smoodlighting.Thesewerethefaithful,theloyal,herladies-in-waiting.Theroomsmelledofhersignaturescent,aTomFordcandle—RainyhadonceGoogledthepriceofit—calledLostCherry.Itwascozy,evenifitwasalittleoverlycurated.Rainydidnotseeherselfasoneofthem;shewasthenewest,stillinthefirstyearofherfeel-outphase.Shecametotheirweeklyhappyhours,andsincesomeoftheirpartnersandhusbandswerefriends,therewerecrossoverdinnersandsummerbarbecues,thegroupdiscussioncenteringonsports,theirrespectivejobsandfamilygossip.Allinall,theywerenice…andtheywereGrant’sfriends.She’dcomebecauseGrantwasimportanttoher,andhehadaskedherto.
Rainymadeasplit-seconddecision:shesneezedviolentlyintoherelbow,andbythetimesheopenedhereyes,aunanimous“Blessyou”echoedfromthewomenacrosstheroom.Suddenly,everyonewaslaughing,includingRainy,whowasabletoavoidthehuggingandtouchingpartasshesniffledpastthem.Noonewantedtogetsickortouchthesnottygirl.
TheTigerMountaingroupwascomposedofmostlychildless,marriedwomenintheirthirtiesandfortieswhoconnectedviaaFacebookpage,buttheBabyTigers—asTaracalledthem—wereahandfulofnewlywedsintheirmidtwenties.Theybroughtafun,energeticvibetothegroup;itfeltlikehangingoutwithyourlittlesisterandherfriends.Theywerecute,buttherewasadisconnectthathappenedwheneverthethirty-andfortysomethingsspokeaboutthingsthetwentieshadn’treachedyet.ThetwothatcametohappyhourwiththemostconsistencywereUrsaandMackenzie,bestfriendswhoseemedtoenjoythecompanyoftheslightlyolderwomen.TheothertwentieshadbrokenoffintotheirowngroupthatUrsaandMacstillhungoutwithoccasionally.RainyfeltbadcallingthemtheBabyTigers;Tarahadonlycomeupwiththatnicknamebecauseshewasthreatenedbytheiryouth.
Braithecamebackandpushedaglassofwhitewineintoherhand.Herlipswerelinedingold,aswerehereyes.Shesurveyedtheroom.
“SitovertherebyViola,willyou—she’smiserablebecauseshecan’tdrink.”ShesaiditloudenoughforViolatohear.
BraithewinkedatViola,whointurnmadeafaceather.RainymadeherwayovertowhereViolawassittingandslidobedientlyintoherseat.ShewouldhavechosentositnexttoViola,anyway.TheclockonBraithe’srangeread7:47;she’dstayuntilnine-ish,andthensayshehadtogethometoletShepout.Theseweredogpeople,theywouldunderstand.Thatmeantanhourandfifteenminutesforhappyhourandshecouldcallit.ShegrinnedatViola,whoreturnedherlookwithraisedeyebrows.Herpursedlipswereaperfectmatteburgundy.
“Don’tthinkIdon’tknowwhatyou’rethinking.Iamthinkingthesamedamnthing.”Violaleanedbackinherseat,cradlingherbellyandlookingmiserable.Rainyeyedthegaggle.Theyweretalkingaboutanewrestaurantandweredistractedforthemoment.
“Well,whydowekeepcomingtothesethings?”
“Goodquestion.Passmethatwater,wouldyou?”
Rainyleanedforward,reachingfortheglass,andViolatookitfromhergratefully.Shedrainedit,eyeingRainyovertherim.
“Indigestion,”shesaidbeforeRainycouldask.“Samanthamadesomeshit,andnowIcan’ttellifI’minlabororifhotsauceisleakingintomychestcavityfromherrice.”Shepoundedherchestwithasmallfistandgrimaced.SamanthawasViola’spartner.Rainyhadonlymetheronceatoneofthesethings;shewasonepartgothandtherestawkwardcomputernerd.Sinceshewasequallyasawkward,she’dhititoffwithSamantha,whosharedherdrysenseofhumor.
“Whydidyouputhotsauceonyourrice?”
Violalookedathersideways,eyeingherwithdisapproval.“Whydoyounot?”
Rainylaughed.“Touché.”
Braitheseatedherselfonthelastemptybarstool,herglassofwhitewineinfrontofher.ToherleftwasTaraHessler,herright-handwomanandmainladyinwaiting.Tarawasalittleflushedtonight,hercreamyskinrosywithanticipation.Shewas,inRainy’sopinion,asocialscavenger,butasmoothone.Sheneededtobetheprettiestgirlintheroom,butthatwasBraithe,soshesettledforaclosesecond.TaraadornedBraithelikeanunnecessarytiara.Rainyavoidedhavingclosefriendshipsforthatreason:thelastthingshewantedwascostume-jewelryfriendship.Shedidn’thavetimeforthat.Codependencysuckeduplargechunksoftime.
Rainy,beingthenewesttothegroup,wasalwayspeltedwithquestionswhensheshoweduptohappyhour.Itwasliketheyweretryingtofast-trackherintotheirgroupwiththeselittleQandAs.
“Thenew-girlnoveltywillwearoffsoonandthey’llstophoundingyou.”ItwasapromiseViolamadetoherayearagowhenRainymovedtoWashington.TheywantedtoknowwhoshehungoutwithinNewYork—ahandfulofcloseartistfriendsfromcollegeWhoshedatedbeforeGrant—twoartstudentsandagalleryowner,nothingseriousWherewereherparents?Dead.Didshemissthecity—yesandnoShelikedthesolitudeandvastopennessofWashington.Andfinally,themostpainfulquestionofthemall—wasshegoingtomarryGrant?Violahadcalledthemoutafterthat,toldthemtostopbeingnosy.
Rainydidnotwanttoplayhouseforthenexttenyears—shedidwanttomarryGrant—butshealsohadnointentionoftalkingtothemaboutit.Hewastheonlymanshe’deverfeltthiswayabout,unlessshedecidedtoholdtheselittlehappyhoursagainsthim.
“Gettoknowsomepeople,thisisyournewhome,”he’dsaid.
“Whatpeople?”she’darguedstubbornly.“Youaremypeople.”
“Friends,”he’dsaid.“Friendsaregood,friendsarehealthy.”
Ursa,inapinksilktopandjeans,waslip-synchingalongwithBraithe’splaylist,forcingMactobeheraudience.ShegotrightupinMac’sfaceasshesang,“Youmakeme,makeme,makemewanttocry!”Macgiggledandshovedheraway;undeterred,UrsabegangrindingagainstTaraonherotherside.ShepausedherdancingtopointafingeratRainyandwink.
Violalaughedfrombesideher.“Sheisontonight.”
RainyhadneverreallyseenUrsanotbeon.Shewasenergetic:matteskin,leggy,shaggyhair.Sheworkedinmarketingandwassmartasawhip.Rainylikedthewayshecouldmakeanythingsoundfun—evenabikiniwax.Mackenziewasherbestfriend:sweet,lesssureofherself,akindergartenteacherbytrade.Rainythoughttheywerebothintheirlatetwenties,butshewasn’tsure;Botoxmadeitimpossibletoguessawoman’sage.WhenGrantsetherupwiththegroup—thewivesofsomeofhisfriends—he’dcalledthem“fun”and“easygoing.”She’dwonderedifhe’drememberedshewasuptightandnotfunatall,butlovingsomeonemeanttalkingyourselfintothingsonoccasion.Andbesides,ViolawasoneoftherealestpeopleRainyhadevermet.Thegroupwasworthitsolelyforherfriendship.AndthentherewasBraithe:theglamorous,put-togetheradultfriend.Herjobwastomakeeveryonefeelliketheyhadaplaceatthetable—hertable.
Rainysippedherdrink,contentforthemoment.Shelookedaroundattheirfaces,hergazefinallyrestingonTara.Toherconsternation,Tarawaslookingather,aswell.Rainycrossedherlegs,suddenlynervous.MaybeitwasthewayTarahadrepeatedhernamethefirsttimeBraitheintroducedthem,droppingherchinandraisingherbrows.“Rainylikeourdamnweather…?”Everyonehadlaughed,includingRainy,butshe’dhadthedistinctimpressionthatTaradidn’tlikeher.Andoverthelastyearthatfeelinghadgrown,fannedtolifebyTara’slackofeyecontactandheroccasionalsnarkyremarks.Whentheywereinagroup,itwaseasytooverlookthatsheusuallyhadn’tsaidawordtoRainyallnight.WithTarabeingthelifeofeveryparty,sheseemedinclusive,drawingeveryoneintoherstoriesandjokes.Rainyhadnevermindedtheslights;thesewere,ofcourse,Grant’sfriends,andshedidn’ttakeoffense,sinceshedidn’twanttobethere,anyway.ButherewasTara,smilingatherwarmly,nohintofdislikeonherface.Herfulllipswerecurlednicely,themoleaboveherlippunctuatinghersmile.TheresultwasFrenchmodelholdsasecretshe’sabouttospill
Rainyputherdrinkdownandleveledhershoulders,thetagfromherT-shirtscratchingherneck.Shecouldfeeltheenergybuildingintheroom,anditwasmakinghernervous.
Theyallwerestaringathernow,smilespickingupthecornersoftheirmouths.Rainysuddenlyfeltaknotforminherthroat;shewasgoingtochokeonherownpanic.
“Um…what?Youguysareweirdingmeout.”
“Lookatmyface,Rainy…lookatmyface.”UrsawiggledhereyebrowsandmadekissyfacesuntilRainycrackedup.
“Rainy…”Tarascootedforwardinherseat,drawingRainy’sattentionbacktoher.Tarawasseateddirectlyacrossfromher,onthesideoftheislandnearestthekitchendoor.Inonehandshelooselyheldhervodkatonic,andtheotherwasslidingsomethingacrossthecountertoRainy.TaratriedtocontrolthecogsofeverysituationandRainydidnotwanttobecomeoneofthosecogs.Forthatreason,shewashesitanttolookdownatwhatTarawaspassingtoher.
She’dlivedinWashingtonforamerefourmonthswhenherthirty-fifthbirthdaysnuckup.Shehadn’tbeenthinkingaboutit.She’dbeenpreoccupiedwithsettlingintohernewhome,findingacomfortablegroovewithGrant.Thethingsonhermindbackthen:wonderingifGrantsecretlyhatedhercookingandstressingaboutwhethersheneededtogotobedwhenhedid.Whenhetoldherhewantedtoplanadinnertocelebrate,she’dbeensurprised.
She’dbeencontenttospendthenightathomewithGrant.Shesecretlyhatedherbirthday,anyway;sincehermotherdied,ithadbeenareminderofwhoshedidn’thave.Butatthetime,itseemedimportanttoGranttoplansomethingforher,soshe’dlethim.
“Whattypeoffood?Vietnamese,Korean—IknowthisgreatMexicanplaceinTacoma.”Hewasexcitedasheopenedhislaptopandsaid,“It’sSeattle,Icanfindyoualmostanythingyouwant—oratleastsomethingsimilar.”
TheNewYorkerinRainyhighlydoubtedthat,butshekissedhimtogetatasteofhisexcitementandsaid,“Seafoodsoundsgreat.”Granthadbookedaplaceonthewaterthathesworeupanddownservedthebestcrablegsinthestate.He’dsentagrouptexttohisfriendsandtheirwiveswiththedateandtime.Everyonetextedback,excited,andthenTara’stexthadcome.
Hey,don’tmeantobeavibekiller,butthat’stheweekendoftheannualchilicook-off.
Thetextscameinfastlittlepelts:everyonesuggestingthattheycombinethetwo.
Rainyhadbeenembarrassedthatherbirthdayplansweredisruptingsomethingtheyallwantedtodo.We’llhaveacakeforherattheparty!someonehadtexted.Butshewasalreadymortifiedbythen,tryingtomakesomebigweekendaboutherselfwhentheybarelyknewher.
“I’venevercelebratedmybirthdays.Idon’twanttobethecenterofattention,”she’darguedwhenhesaiditwasnobigdealtoreschedulethedinner.
“Thisisyourfirstyearherewithme.Letmedothis.”
Grantwassosetontheissue—sopleasedwithhimself—thatshecouldn’tbeartobursthisbubble.She’drelented,butwithasinkingfeeling.Shedidn’twanthisfriendstothinkshewastheonepushingtheissue,demandingtocelebrateeventhoughtheybarelyknewher.IthadbeenaruleamongherNewYorkfriendstoignoreeachother’spartnersuntiltheyweretooembeddedinthecirclenotto.Acruelbutcautionarywaytonotget“tooattached.”Asshehalfhidandhealed,thecoldnesshadsuitedher,butthesewereGrant’speople.Shewasthirstyforhisapproval—andthelastthingsheneededwastobethetopicoftheirgossip.
Sheagreedtoasixo’clockdinneronFridaynightwithfourothercouples:BraitheandStephen,TaraandMatt,ViolaandSamantha,andGaryandLinney—acoupleGrantknewfromhighschoolthatheaffectionatelyreferredtoasOldFaithful.Tenminutesbeforetheyweresupposedtoleave,Tarahadtextedlinkstothegroupwithseveralreviewsshe’dfoundonlineabouttherestaurant.
Fivecasesoffoodpoisoninginthelastfourmonths,she’dsaid.Didn’tknowifyouwantedtochanceit…
Noonehad.Andbythattime,itwastoolatetogetareservationfortenpeopleanywhereelse.Thedinnerhadbeencanceled,andRainywasleftwiththedistinctimpressionTarahadwanteditthatway.RainyhadneverfiguredoutwhyTaradislikedher,andshe’dlearnedtonotcare.Therewereplentyofpeoplewholikedherwellenough.
Now,sheglancedaroundandsawfivesetsofeyespinnedonher.ThesuddensurgeofattentionfromeveryoneatonetimewasmakingRainydizzy.
“Takemyhands,LorraineIves.”Tara’snailswerepaintedapearlywhite.Sheflippedthemoverandheldtwosmallpalmstowardher,sosoftandunblemishedRainywasfixated.Hadthewomaneversomuchasfriedbaconinherlife?TaraclearedherthroatandRainyofferedherhandsapologetically.
“Sorry,artistacknowledgingbeautifulhands.”
Taraflushed,pleasedwiththecompliment.ViolakickedRainyunderthetableandRainyshotheranapologeticlook.What?Shehasbeautifulhands.
Beforeshecouldmakesenseofwhyeveryonewaswatchingherandwhatwashappening,Taralaunchedintohersell.
“So!Weknowyou’renewtothegroup,andwedon’talwayslikethenewpeople,”shesaid,winking.Theothersmurmuredtheiragreement,andRainywonderedwhothelastnewmemberhadbeen.MaybeoneofGrant’sothergirlfriends?Taracontinued.“Butwe’realltotallyobsessedwithyou—that’swhy—andyoucanabsolutelysayno,buuutwewon’tletyou.”Theyalllaughedatthejokeshedidn’tgetandRainyheldherbreathasshewaitedforthepunchline.Weretheygoingtosuggestmatchingtattoos?Weretheyswingers,askingherintotheircircle?ThepossibilitieswereendlessasRainysatsweatingbeneaththeireyes.Shecouldfeelhereyebrowsdancingcomicallyinconfusion.
“Picturesun,heat—”shesaidthewordheatwithreverence“—anddrinksbythepool!We’reinvitingyouonourgirls’trip…toVegas!”
Atfirst,Rainy’sreliefwasimmense;agirls’tripwaskind,inclusive.Andthensheprocessedtheword:Vegas.SheglancedoveratViolaandwonderediftheywouldhaveinvitedherinsteadifViolawasn’tinherlasttrimester,andthencorrectedherselfforthinkingthatway.Itwasanicegesture,onesheneverintendedtoaccept.Butshecouldn’ttellthemwhy.
Theywerewaitingforhertosaysomething,butshewashavingtroubleformingwords.
“Youguys,”Violasaidfrombesideher,“giveheraminutetoswallowwhatyoueagerbeaversaresaying.”Shefeltamuchgentlerkickunderthetable:Violasaying,Youokay?
TaraloosenedherholdonRainy’sfingers,whichwasagoodthingbecauseRainy’shandswerestartingtosweat,andshedoubtedhersweatwasorganicenoughforanyoneintheroom.
“Okay,letmeexplain.”Tarapushedherhairbehindherearsandscootedforwardonherstool.Shehadpaleblondhairthatontheaveragedaywasscoopedbackintoaponytail,buttonightsheworeitpartedandpasthershoulders.“Everyyearwegoonourannualgirls’trip.We’vedoneallsortsofthings,”shesaid,wavingahandintheair.“Campingnearthehotsprings,we’vedrivenuptoCanadafortheweekandstayedinalodge…”
“Whatabouttheyearwerentedthosetreehouses?”
RainyglancedoverasBraithesetdownabakedbrie,surroundedbyaclusteroffruit,infrontofthem.TheroomseemedtohingeonRainy’sanswer,butitwasonethingeatingcheesewiththesewomenafewminutesfromherownhome,anotherentirelytogoawaywiththem.Shit,whyhadshedrunkthewinesofast?Shecouldn’tthinkofagoodliefastenough.
“Vegasisnotmything.Trustme,I’mnotfun,notevenalittlebit.Look,yousatmenexttothepregnantwoman—youallknowit’strueinyourhearts.”ThatbroughtacryofoutragefromViola,andafewlaughsfromtheothers.
“Thatisnottrue,Rainy!Welovehangingwithyou!”ThiscamefromMackenzie,whowasalwayspositive,alwaysinclusive.ShewasmarriedtoBryanBiggs,asoftwareengineer;thegroupfondlycalledthemBigMac.
Rainyreachedforthecheese,slammingbackamouthfultobuyherselftime.Theywouldn’tunderstandthis,herhesitation.Theyhadjustemergedfromabitterwinter,andeveryonewasjumpingatthechancetotravelagain.Sheshouldwanttogo.Anynormalpersonwouldwanttogo.
“Well,wecertainlyaren’tgoingtoforceyoutocome,”Braithesaidalittlehesitantly.HerfacewasconflictedbutRainycouldn’ttellwhy.Shewasafairweathermemberofthegroupandthey’dalwaysbeenokaywiththat.
“ButIforoneamgoing.Andyouknowwhatelse?I’mnotgoingtofeelbadaboutallthemoneyI’mgoingtoloseattheslotmachines…andIplanonlosingalotofit,morethanlasttime.”Shepointedaroundthetable,daringanyonetocontest,andRainybreathedasighofrelief.SheowedBraitheone.Thebantercontinued,andtheairofplanningdescendedonthegroup.Rainywascontenttolistentothemtalkaboutit,laughingwhenTaraandUrsagotintoanargumentaboutsettingdrinklimits,sonoonewouldbechaperoninganyoneelse.
“LasttimewewerethereIhadtodragyoubacktotheroomasyouvomitedintomybag,”Taracomplained.
“Well,leavemewhereIamnexttimeandmindyourbusiness,”Ursashotback.“Besides,IamnotsittingataslotmachinepressingbuttonsthefirsttimeIgetavacationintwoyears.Sendmetoaclubandletmedance!”
ShespottedthetimeonBraithe’srangerightastheywerediscussinghotelsandstoodupalittletooabruptly;herchairscreechedpainfullyagainstthefloor.
“Rainy,no!Staylonger!”Tarasaid.Herteethwerestainedpurple,likeshe’dbeenfeastingonthewineinsteadofdrinkingit.
“IhavetogoletShepout.”Theplannedexcusetumbledeasilyoutofhermouth.Shewantedtogiveherselfacongratulatorypatontheback.
TarahadapoodlenamedStaceythatshetreatedbetterthanmostparentstreatedtheirkids.Shenoddedrightawaylikesheunderstood.
“Promiseusyou’llatleastthinkaboutit,okay?”Tarawassmiling,theblonddaggersofhaircontrastingwiththesweetnessofhertone.
Rainyknewthistactic,andshewasn’tgoingtoallowherselftobeguiltedorstrong-armedintosomethingshedidn’twanttodo.
“Thinkaboutwhat?”Shesaiditcasually,butshesupposedifyoulistenedclosely,therewasaniptohervoice.Tara’ssmilebecamefixed.Rainycouldseeherthoughtstickingbehindhereyes.
“Thinkaboutcoming,silly.”SheleanedinandRainyhadtheurgetopullaway.“IknowitwouldmeanalottoBraitheifyoudid.”
ShestaredintoTara’seyesandsawsomethingshedidn’tlike;whatwasthat?Desperation?Sheblinkedbackherthoughts,castingaglanceatBraithe,whowaschattingwithUrsaandMac.TheonlyonepayingattentiontothemwasViola,whowaspretendingtotext,butRainyknewthelookonherface—shewaslistening.RainyhighlydoubtedBraithe’shappinesswashingingonhergoingtoVegas,especiallysinceshe’dbesurroundedbyhergroupies.IfTarawasn’tgettingit,she’dhelpher.
“Ialreadysaidno,buthey,hitmeupifyouguysdecidetodothetreehousesagain.I’llseeyouguysnextweek.”Shetuckedherhairbehindherearsasshestood,avoidingTara’seyesandwinkingatViola,whogaveherathumbs-up.
Shewasmovingtowardthedoor;afewmorestepsandherhandwouldcloseover—
“Rainy.”ItwasBraithe,walkingtowardher,anapologeticlookonherface.Hershoesmadepitter-pattersonthehardwoodasRainyturnedtofaceher.
“Shecomesonstrong,butshemeanswell.”Braithe’smouthwaspulledintoatightlittlebud;sheonlymadethatfacewhenshewasworried.Littletendrilsofhairhadcomeloosearoundherface.Shelookedlikeapainting.
“HowdidIknowyouweregoingtosaythat?”
Braithesighedandopenedthedoor.“Haveyouconsideredthatweactuallylikeyou?”Rainyhadn’t;she’dbeentoobusytryingtolikethem.Itfeltmoreliketheyweretoleratingher,butshesmiledatBraitheandnodded.
“I’mbehindonwork.Ican’treallytakethetimeoffrightnow.Maybenexttime.Youguyswillhavetoletmeknowhowitallgoes.”
Braithelaughed,reachingouttosqueezeRainy’sshoulder.“Thatsoundedrehearsed.”
Rainygrinned,guilty.“I’llseeyou,Braithe.”
She’dalreadyboundeddownthestairswhenBraithecalledafterheragain.“We’reatViola’stomorrow,remember?Throwingheralittlesprinklebeforethebabycomes.Yousigneduptobringsparklingapplejuiceandthecouscous.”
“Iremember,”Rainycalledoverhershoulder.Shehadn’t,andwasgladBraithecouldn’tseethelieonherface.Themistsoakedintoherclothesasshewalked.ShecouldfeelBraithewatchingherfromthedoorway,wantingtosayonelastthingbeforesendingheroff.She’donlyknownthetiny,articulateformerballetdancerforayear,butshewastheunofficialgroupmother.Andthereitwas:“Don’tbeastrangerthisweek.Comedownforcoffee.”
Withoutturningaround,Rainyliftedahandtoacknowledgethatshehadheard,andwalkedquicklytohertruck.
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Firstpublishedin2017byCreateSpaceIndependentPublishingPlatform.Thiseditionpublishedin2023withrevisedtext.
Copyright?2017byColleenHooverandTarrynFisher
Copyright?2023byTarrynFisher,revisedtextedition
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