We Were Never Here (Andrea Bartz)

WeWereNeverHereisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsaretheproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,orpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
Copyright?2021byAndreaBartzInc.
Allrightsreserved.
PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyBallantineBooks,animprintofRandomHouse,adivisionofPenguinRandomHouseLLC,NewYork.
BALLANTINEandtheHOUSEcolophonareregisteredtrademarksofPenguinRandomHouseLLC.
LIBRARYOFCONGRESSCATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATIONDATA
Names:Bartz,Andrea,author.
Title:Wewereneverhere:anovel/AndreaBartz.
Description:NewYork:BallantineBooks[2021]
Identifiers:LCCN2020052249(print)|LCCN2020052250(ebook)|ISBN9781984820464(hardcover)|ISBN9781984820471(ebook)
Classification:LCCPS3602.A8438W42021(print)|LCCPS3602.A8438(ebook)|DDC813/.6—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/?2020052249
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/?2020052250
EbookISBN?9781984820471
randomhousebooks.com
BookdesignbyVictoriaWong,adaptedforebook
Coverdesign:SarahHorgan
Coverimage:IlinaSimeonova/TrevillionImages
ep_prh_5.7.0_c0_r0
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43
Chapter44
Chapter45
Chapter46
Dedication
Acknowledgments
AlsobyAndreaBartz
AbouttheAuthor
CHAPTER1
Kristentrottedtothepatio’sedgeandcrouched,longarmoutstretched.Herfingersgropedalongavine,liftingleaves,exposingthetenderstalksbeneath.Ipicturedhertippingoverandtumblingoff,thereandthennotthere,theafterimageofhersilhouettestillhanginginmyvision.Idon’tknowwhy.Forawildmoment,Ipicturedpushingher.
InsteadIhalfstoodfromthetable.“Kristen,don’t,”Icalled.Thewoodenpatioperchedonstiltsabovethevinesbelowandwewerealone,aswehadbeenalmosteverywherewe’dstoppedthisweek.Emptyrestaurants,emptymarkets,emptytouristinformationcenters.Anoccasionalclusterofothervisitorsstandingorsittingnearbydespiteeveryonehavingallthespaceintheworld.
AsnappingsoundandKristenstood,holdingupablobofgreengrapes.Shepoppedoneintohermouthandchewedthoughtfully.“Notbad.Catch.”
Imissedthetossandthegrapesbouncedontotheglasstabletop.Iglancedaround,thentriedone—itburstbrightandtartonmytongue.
“Hesaidtheiryieldsucksthisyear.Youdidn’tneedtotakeanentirebunch.”
Shesankintoherchairandliftedherpiscosour,limegreenandfrothy.“I’llleave’emafewextrapesosonthewayout.Iwashungry.”Shenudgedherglassagainstmine.“You’dratherseemestealsomegrapesthangetlowbloodsugar,right?”
“Fairpoint.”HangryKristencouldcuttothecore.
Amanwithabandannaloopedaroundhisheadwaswatchingusfromfaroutinthefields,justbeforethegrapevinesbumpedupagainstarowofbushytrees.Beyondthat,braidedhillscutajaggedhorizon.Kristenwavedattheworkerandhenodded.
Iletthelastofmydrinklingeronmytongue.We’dbeensippingthesedaily:limejuice,powderedsugar,andtheyellowishbrandytheChileanssworepredatedPeruvianpisco.Ifelttheswellofyetanotheroneofthosewell-isn’t-this-nicemoments,oneblissfullyfreefromthefearthat’dprickledmybrainnonstopforthelastthirteenmonths.HereIwas,onthetripofalifetime:sevennightsinSouthAmerica,exploringtheroughmountainsandtheripevalleysbetweenwithmybestfriendofmorethanadecade.Acocktailsobracingandsweet,ittastedlikesteppingintothesurf.Andwestillhadtwonightstogo.
Kristenmadeeverythingbetter,herconfidencelikeabelljarofsecurityinastrangeandgnarledworld.Whenwe’dhuggedattheairportalmostaweekago,tearsofreliefhadcoatedmyeyes.Ihadn’tseenherinayear—ayearpockmarkedbypanicattacks,nightmares,andscreamingintomypillowortheshoweroroccasionallymyfist.ButinSantiago,aswe’dpickedupourrentalcaranddrivennorthonbarrenhighways,Kristenwasherusualboisterousself.ShewhoopedwhenthePacificcameintoview;shehonkedataclumpofplushalpacasbythesideoftheroad.Shepointedandgaspedatroadsidefruitstands,ripplingcornfieldswithlaser-straightrows,fatfieldsofvegetablesgrowingbushyinthesun.Andsky,sky,somuchbluesky,almostcracklinginitscrispness,thewayitshotdownintotheoceanononesideandthecrinkledpeaksontheother.Herpresencewaslikeacalmingscent,aerosolizedXanax,andIallowedmyselftorelax.
WespentthefirstnightinLaSerena,wherewecarriedleakyice-creamconesaroundaleafytownsquareandstayedinahotelwithbrightcolorsonthewalls,wherepaintingsofsaintswatchedusasweslept.Tootouristy,wedecided,andthenextmorningwedroveinland.InPiscoElquiwetookayogaclassfromawomanwithbowedkneesandhip-lengthhair;aswestoodinMountainPose,ourchestspuffedout,sheannounced,“Yoursmilepowersyourcorazón,yourheart.”Onthesecondnightthere,threecollege-ageguysfromGermanycorneredusinabar,andthepaniccameroaringbacklikeapantherlyinginwait.Kristenhadtakenthelead—shewascharming,couldtalktoanybody—andwhenshe’dnoticedthefearinmyeyes,shepolitelydisentangledusfromthecockytrioandledmebackintothenight
“It’sokay,it’sme,I’mhere,”shekeptmurmuringaswewalkedthedarkstreetsbacktoourhotel.“Kristen’shere.”Hervoicewasabalm;herwordsaweightedblanket.We’dpackedupandleftthefollowingday.
Andthismorningwearrivedhere,inQuiteria.Atfirst,I’dbeenalarmedbyitsemptiness.We’dparkedinalotandwanderedthehillystreets,oursuitcasestrailingbehinduslikedejectedtoddlers,forwhatfeltlikehoursbeforewefoundanopenhotel.ThereIscoredthekeystoasmallsuite,theduvetdampdespitethedrymountainair.Thesunwassinking,andIrealizedthecity’svacancywouldbeanasset:fewermentobotherus,twowomenwalkingthestreetsatnight.Youknowwhattheysayaboutwomentravelingalone.
Kristenswallowedthelastofherpiscosour.“Youknowwhatweshoulddo?Birthdaywishes.”
“Mybirthday’snotfortwoweeks.”
“Iknow,butIwanttodoitinperson.Andit’sabigone!”
Itwasourtradition,tellingtheotherwhatwehopedwouldhappenforthemthatyear.I’dhadtheideaafterIreadabouttwobest-friends-slash-business-partnerswhowroteeachother’sNewYear’sresolutions.
“I’llgofirst,”shesaid,turningtowardthegrapevines.“Mybirthdaywishforyou,mydarlingEmily…isthatyourcompanygetsitsheadoutofitsassandgivesyouthepromotionyoudeserve.”
“Thatwouldbenice.”I’dthrownmynameinthehatforadirector-levelpositionmonthsago,butmyemployer,Kibble,wasdisorganizedandputzyanddraggingitsfeet.Ilikedmyjobthere,though,promotionornot:projectmanagerofastart-upthatshippedraw,organiccatfoodtopetownerswithtoomuchmoney.Ihadhipyoungco-workers,includingmyworkwife,Priya,andcatphotosliterallyeverywhere.
Still,Ididn’ttellKristenthatmysecretwish,wheneverIsawashootingstarorcaughtadandelionflufforspottedaclockat11:11,wastolandagreatpartner,settledown.Itfelttooantifeminist,tooneedytoputintowords.ButwithKristenhalfwayaroundtheworldandallmyfriendsgettingmarried(hell,havingkids),mypatiencewaswearingthin.AndmaybeIwasfinallyheadedintherightdirection…
“Hesaidthey’regonnastartinterviewingcandidatesthismonth,”Itoldher.“It’sfunny,heactslikethere’snotimetoeventhinkabouttheopenposition.Likehe’stoobusysavingtheworld,onefelinedigestivetractatatime.”
“Catpeoplearetheworstpeople.Isaythatasacard-carryingcatloverstymiedonlybyallergies.”
“Ithinkhisdevotioniskindasweet!”
Kristensnorted.“It’sanentirebusinesspredicatedonpeoplebeingobsessedwithadisinterestedanimal.”
“Russell’scatisn’tdisinterested.Mochiloveshimback.I’veseenthevideos.”KristenrolledhereyesandIleanedforward.“C’mon,Ilikemyjob.”
“Sorry,sorry,sorry.”Shewavedahand.“Okay,nowyougo.”
“Right.Mybirthdaywishforyou,afullfourmonthsearly,isthat,hmm.”Itappedthestemofmyglass.ThatyourealizeyouhateAustralia.ThatyoumovebacktoMilwaukee.Thatwegobacktothewaythingswere.“Ihopeyougetyourstupidbossfiredandyourjobgetsamilliontimesbetter.Oryoufindanewjobthatmakesyouhappy.”
“Nofair,youjustcopiedme!”
“Thisiswhatourthirtiesareallabout,right?Vaultingforwardinourcareers.Atleastwehavejobs.”
“True.AndthankGodweputthatdisposableincometogooduse.”Shesweptherarmoutacrossthevines,whosepristinerowsnarrowedinthedistance.Behindthem,rumpledmountainsreddenedinthedippingsunlight.Abirdlandedontheedgeofthedistillery’sdeckandutteredasqueakytrill.Acutesierrafinch,yellowasaneggyolk—IrecognizeditfromsomeidleresearchI’ddoneatmydeskinMilwaukee.
Nearby,athumpingsound.Itwasprobablyawoodpecker,butbeforeIrealizedthat,thememoryflashedbeforeme:Stop.Stop.Stop.Kristen’seyeswideasshesteppedback,bloodspecklinghershoes.Themomentthatchangedeverything,whenlifecrackedneatlyintoBeforeandAfter.
Kristensliduphersunglassesandgavemeanindulgentsmile.Igrinnedback.
I’dbeenwrongtoworry.EventheincidentwiththetrioofGermanshadbeenharmless.There’dbeennostrangemenhulkingincorners,theireyesfollowingushungrily.Nodrunkendudeswho’dstoodalittletoocloseorfollowedtoofewstepsbehindusondarkenedstreets.Nocauseforalarm.
IgazedatKristenandfeltarushofwarmth.
Everythinghadgoneperfectly.
Afatbeebumbledaroundourglasses,andKristenwavedherhand,fearless.
“Feelslikewe’retheonlynon-localsformiles,”Isaid.Theisolationwasboththrillingandunsettling.
“Itwon’tlast.MyguidebooksaysallthetouristbusesarriveonSaturdays.”Shestretchedherarms,recrossedhermuscularlegs.KristenhadgottenintoCrossFitinSydney,andsometimesherlimbsstilllookedofftome.Tawnyandtaut,liketheybelongedonanotherbody.
KristenhadmovedtoSydneyeighteenmonthsago;hermarketresearchfirmopenedupanAustralianofficeandherbossencouragedhertoapply.Tomydismay,she’dcomplied,murmuringabouthowshewasoverMilwaukee—herhometown—withitssmallishsizeandpolarizedcommunities.
KristeninAustralia:It’dseemedlikeawhim,fleetingandoutlandish.Ididn’tknowadulthoodwithouther,fromwhenwebecamefriendsasfelloweconmajorsatNorthwesterntowhenwebothfoundjobsinWisconsinandsharedaramshackleapartmentoffBradyStreet.Togetherwefumbledthroughourpostgradyears,throughbaddatesandgoodjobnewsandroughnightsandevenroughermornings,untilweemerged,fresh-facedandtriumphant,inourlatetwenties,mewithmyveryownapartmentintheFifthWard,herafewmilesawayinRiverwest.Wespokecasuallyofhowwe’dsomedaybeeachother’smaidsofhonor,howshe’deventuallybemyfuturechildren’s“auntie.”I’dgrowntoloveMilwaukeebythen,withitsbroadlakefrontandmyriadfestivalsandfriendlylittleart-and-musicscene,allofthetalentandnoneofthepretensionoflargercities.I’dtriedhardnottotakeherdigsatthecitypersonally.
I’dbeenhappyforher,ofcourse,butalmostglowingwithself-pity:leftoutandleftbehindandleft,left,left.Idippedintodepressioninherabsence,forcingmyselfthroughlifeasiftherewerealayerofdustdampeningeverymoment.Butwekeptupatraditionwe’dkickedoffinMilwaukee:annualtripstosomeplaceexotic,far-flungplacesmostpeopleneverputontheirlists.
I’donlybeentopopularinternationaldestinations(London,Cancún,Paris…),soeachvacationwithKristenfeltlikeslippingintoawormholeandappearinginanotherdimension,dizzywithsoundsandsmellsandsights.Vietnamhadbeenfirst,HoiAnandHanoi,exploringtubehousesandnightmarketsandelaboratetemples,morecolorfulthanafieldofpoppies.ThenUganda,alloursavingspouredintoonce-in-a-lifetimeexperiencesthatpileduplikesnow,miraculousatfirstandthenoddlynormal:staringintothemarbleeyesofgorillasinBwindi,boatingpastNilecrocodilesandbloatsoffathippopotami,clutchingeachotherfromthebackofajeepasalionregardedusduringagamedriveinKidepoValley.
Thethirdtrip—Cambodia—waswhenthingshadgoneawry.Itwasourfirsttimemeetingupfromoppositecornersoftheglobe,andIcouldn’twaitforallthatconcentratedfacetime,thekindwetookforgrantedwhenwebothlivedinMilwaukee.Ineverimaginedit’dtakeaturnfortheterrifying,becomemyownpersonalhorrormovie.ButKristen,asalways,hadhelpedme,savedme,takencareofme.Andherewewere,withourfinalhoursinChile’sElquiValleydwindlingliketheflameofanoldcandle,andeverythingfeltgushingandgoodbetweenus.
Kristenpluckedagrapefromthebunchandtosseditintotheair,catchingitneatlyinhermouth.Shegrinnedasshechewed.
“Openyourmouth,Em.”Sheheldanotherup,likeadart.
“No!”
“Letmetry!Ihavereallygoodaim.”
“Idon’ttrustyou.”
“Hey,you’retalkingtoKingofKings’three-timebasketballMVP.Here,throwoneinmymouth.”Sheunhingedherjaw.
“Thisisnotgoingtoendwell,”Iwarned,gigglingasIpitchedagrapeherway.Itbouncedoffherchinandlanded,rathermiraculously,inheremptyglass,andwebothstaredinquietawe.
It’dtakenafewhourstofindourrhythmhereinChile.OnthelongdriveupfromtheSantiagoairport,I’dbeengratefultobaskinKristen’sauraagain,hercasualconfidenceandglintingwit.Butmynerveshadhardenedandsparkedwhenshe’dcrunchedourrentalcarontothedirtinfrontofanempanadastand.Weatelunchleaningonthecar’shothoodasthecook,astoutladywithleatheryskin,lookedon.Awomanouthereallalone,nothingbutstubbytreesandchokydustformiles—Itriedtogiveherafriendlysmile.
Packedinsideeachdoughytrianglewasanentirehard-boiledeggandseasonedgroundmeat,andwithoutthinking,Iliftedmyphonetosnapaphoto.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Kristenswallowedherbiteandraisedhereyebrows.“Didyouforget?”
“Iwasn’tgonnapostit,”Imuttered,blushing.
“Handitover.”ThesunbeatintoKristen’sopenpalm.UVraysshootingontoeachcreaseinherpalm,eachgrooveofherfingertips.Ididn’tmoveandsheflickedherwrist.“Youknowtherules.”
Abreezesentthebushesandshrubsaroundushissing.Thewomanglancedupfromthecounter,whereshewasrollingoutdough.
IdroppedmyphoneintoKristen’shandandgrinned.“Digitaldetoxcommencingnow.”
Ithadn’tcomeupagain.Ourphoneswereinourpursesnow,thereincaseofemergency,butturnedoff,deadblocksofmetalandglass.OurCambodiatriphadinvolvedano-phones-allowedtwo-nightyogaretreatatthebeginning,andwe’dbothagreedtokeepitup.Andthenthedecisionhadservedussowell.Somuchluck,somanyincidentaldetailslininguptobringushere:alive,safe,free.
“Sowhereshouldwegonextyear?”Iasked.
Kristenrolledagrapebetweenherfingers.“Turkey’sstillhighonmylist.Anddidn’tyousayyou’dheardgoodthingsaboutGeorgia?”
Ishookmyhead.“Georgia,thecountry?Idon’tknowanythingaboutit.”
“Icouldswearyouweretalkingaboutit.”Shenarrowedhereyes.
“Well,Turkeycouldbecool,”Isaid.“Istanbul’ssupposedtobesupervibrant.”
“IwasalsothinkingMorocco.Hagglinginbazaarsandridingcamelsinthedesertandwhatnot.”
AthoughtcroppedupandIswalloweditjustintime:AaronwenttoMarrakechafewyearsback.HeandIhadbeenonfourdates,aftermonthsofcasualbanteratthecoffeeshopwhereheworked.Apparentlyfourdateswasjustenoughforhimtohijackmymind,mydaydreamsfloatingoutlikebubblestowardpotentialcoupledom.
Ihadn’tmentionedhimtoKristenyet—notaftershe’ddismissedmy“Metanycoolguyslately?”onthefirstnightwithascoffandano.Kristenhadn’thadaseriousboyfriendinallthetimeI’dknownher,andshe’dgottenridofherdatingappssixmonthsintoSydney,disappointedtolearnthatmate-seekingwasjustasfrustratingthereasitwasstateside.Itwasn’tlikeIdidn’twanttotellher,Ijusthadn’twantedboytalktodominatetheweek,drowningouttheconversationaroundourdreamsandplansandinnerworlds…andI’dsoonerdiethanrubmydatingluckinherface.AaronwasthefirstguyI’dfeltthisexcitedaboutinyears,andIdidn’twanttojinxit.I’devensetupastupid,secrettest:I’dturnmyphoneonsometimesoonandseeifhe’dbotheredtotextme.Ifhewasstilldemonstrablyinterested,I’dtellKristenabouthim.
Ijumped—outofnowhere,thedistillery’sownerleanedovermyshoulder.Hescoopedupbothourglasses.Myfingerstingledfromthecortisolspike,suchanoutsizereaction.
“Doyoulikeanythingelse?”heasked.“Weareclosingnow.”
Onthewayout,Kristenextendedherhandandaskedforhisnameagain.“Thankyousomuch,Pedro,”sherepeated,andbehindherIstampedtheairwithafewmoregracias-es.We’djokedaboutitonthedrivefromSantiago—shereadouteveryroadsigntheAmericanwayandIthrewonmybestSpanishaccent,mytongueflittingthewayI’dlearnedingradeschool:“That’sChigualoco,andI’mgladIcanrepayyouforyourchauffeurserviceswithmyterribletranslationservices.”
Kristenhadbeamed,herhoney-brownhairflutteringfromtheopenwindow.“Youknowyouneverhavetorepaymeforanything.”
CHAPTER2
Wehikedinsilencebackuptoourhotel,onaserpentinemountainroadflankedwithabruptdrop-offsandtheoccasionalbarkingdog.Theregionwasknownforitsstargazing,sostreetlightswerenonexistentandporchlightswerehazyorange
“Whatshouldwedofordinner?”Kristenasked.Shepausedtosniffaboughoffuchsiaflowers.“Nosmell.”
“I’dgobacktowherewehadlunch.”Ifishedinmybagformyinhaler;thesteepwalksandthinairdidn’tbotherKristen,butIwasn’tinexcellentshapelikeher.“Yourquinoabowllookedinsane.And—IneverthoughtI’dsaythis—I’mkindasickofempanadas.”
“OhGod,same.”Shepausedatourhotel’sdriveway.“Iwashopingyou’dsaythat.I’mgonnashowerbeforeweeat.”
“Norush.”Ipulledthekeysfrommypurseandfumbledwiththegate.Inthedark,wesquintedatthebrickpath.Thehotelhadanoddsetup:roomsclusteredinfourseparatebuildings,withdoorsthatopenedtotheoutside,motel-style.Itwasfancierthanthehotelswenormallychose,andpricier,too,butKristenhadinsistedonpickingupthetab,ignoringmyobjectionsasshehandedoverawadofcash.
Kristenwaswealthyinawaythat’dintriguedmeincollege,proddedatmybubble-wrappedmiddle-classmind.Shedidn’ttalkaboutit,butIbegantocatalogtheevidenceinsecret:WhileImademybedwithastripedcomforterfromTarget,Kristenspreadacreamyduvet,bleedingfromtealtocobaltlikepliableart.MystandinglampwasacheapplasticthingwithlimbssprawledoutlikeMedusansnakes,whileaneleganttorchierestoodinKristen’scorner.Shementionedtripstoexoticplaces,theirnameslikesomethingoutofasci-fipaperback(Ljubljana,Brno,Zagreb,Baku),butnevername-dropped,neveralludedtoherbackgroundwithshowyprideorevenshowierhumility.
Thekeyclunkedandwetumbledintothesuitewiththatinstantreleaseofmakingitinfromtheoutsideworld.IdroppedmybagonachairandKristenclosedherselfinthebathroom.We’dbeenupgradedtoasuiteforsomereason—eitherbecauseweweretheonlypeoplethereorbecauseitwastheonlyroomleft,permymediocreSpanishcomprehension.Icouldusuallypiecetogetherwhateverweneededtosay,butmymindwentblankwhenalocalresponded,mumblingathighspeedslikearocktumblingdownahill.NomatterhowmuchIbeggedthemtoslowdown(“lentamente,porfavor,palabraporpalabra”),theyrepeatedthemselvesatthesametempo,thensmiledexpectantly.Kristenwouldstareatme,too,everyonewaitingformysluggishbraintoworkasIgrewmoreandmoreexasperatedwithmyself.
Inhere,weonlyhadtospeakEnglish.Iploppedonthecouch,ahorrificaquathing,andglancedoutthewindow:Duringthedayitwasagloriousvista,brownmountainswithafewcolorfulhousessprinkledacrossitsbase,butnowtherewasjuststar-spangledsky,thelandbelowitajaggedblank.Ilistenedtotherushofwaterontilecomingfromthebathroom,thenpulledoutmyphoneandconnectedtotheWi-Fi.AlongstringoftextsfromPriyarecountingahilariousmomentI’dmissedatanall-handsmeeting.AndthreetextsfromAaron:thekookiestMilwaukeenewsstorieshecouldfind.
Asmilestretchedacrossmyface.He’dpassedmytest—I’dfillKristeninonhimthisevening,whenthetimewasright.She’dunderstandwhyIhadn’tmentionedhim;she’dappreciatethatIhadn’twantedtospendthewholeweekanalyzingdates.Ofcourse,Iwouldn’tmentiontheotherreasonI’dstayedmum:Kristen,withhersky-highstandardsforme,tendedtobecriticalofmyloveinterests.ShepickedupontheredflagsImissed,thewarningsignsIdidn’twanttosee.ThankGodAaronhadpassedmytest—Kristen’sscrutinywouldalmostcertainlybeharsher.
Still,Aaron,shockofshocks,reallydidseemtobeoneofthegoodones.Ourmeet-cutewasamoviecliché:Wechattedashemademydailyoat-milklatteatCaféMona,justdownthestreetfrommyoffice,andovertimeIlearnedhewasrecoveringfromabreakup.Then,lastmonth,Iwasslack-jawedwhenheaskedformynumber.
Ilikedgoingondates,butthingsneverseemedtogoanywherewiththemenImetonappsorthroughsetups.Andthenayearago,I’dswornoffdatingcompletely,everymalehandremindingmeoftheonethat’dthreatenedmylifeandbruisedmyskinthatnightinCambodia.SoIsurprisedmyselfbyagreeingtoafirstdatewithAaron:clappingtopolkatunesatahomeyconcertinabar.Ienteredthenightwithfriendvibesandfinisheditwithacrush.Hewaspatient,nevermakingmefeelbadfornotbeingreadytoveerbeyondmake-outterritory.(Thatwaswhenthepanicflared,Stop.Stop.Stop.)Andhewasweird,withhistortoiseshellglassesanddarkfloppyhairandmanic,beat-poetenergy.Notmytype.Andyet…
Aaronwasnothinglikemycollegebeau,Ben;maybethat’swhatIlikedabouthim.IkeptseeingshadesofBeninmenfromdatingapps:asighingsuperiority,obscurepop-culturereferencesandI’m-too-good-for-thisovertones.Aaronhadanopennessthatstruckmeasrefreshing.Hecompletedcolorfulgraphic-designprojectsinthemiddleofthenight.He’dgrownupintheareaandlikedtowanderthroughold-schoolmuseumsonhisdaysoff,likethePabstMansionandtheslightlycreepyStreetsofOldMilwaukeeexhibitatthepublicmuseum.Hewasinterestedineverything,butespeciallyinme.
Kristencameoutoftheshower,framedinsteam.Shepulledadressfromthewardrobeandthensatinfrontofamirror,carefullyapplyingherfoundation,afewswipesofmascara.Iwasn’tsurewhywekeptdoingthis:Weweren’tsharingphotosofourselves,afterall,andKristendidn’tcaremuchaboutimpressingstrangers.Iimagineshewasusedtolookingbeautiful,withhercaramel-coloredwavesandwidehazeleyes.
—
“ICAN’TBELIEVEthisisoursecond-to-lastnight,”Kristenmusedaswestrolledintotown.
“Iknow.Soonwe’llbebackinourcubicles,ugh.”Iglancedather.“WeneedanactionplanfordealingwithLucas.”Shehatedherboss,aheavysetSwissexpatwho,asKristentoldit,hadbegundislikinghertheminutethefirmforkedover$1,500forherworkvisa.“Whatdoweknowaboutmanagingup?”
“Thatit’simpossibleifyou’reascapegoat.”Sheshrugged.“Thebranchisn’thittingitsquarterlygoals,andI’mtheonlymanagerwho’snotpartoftheirC-suiteboys’club.Ithinkthey’reafraidofme.”
“Afraidofyou?”
“Justinthewayallmenareafraidofwomen.Deepdown.”Sheranherfingersthroughajunglyvinehangingoverthestreet.
“Youthinkmenareafraidofus?Ifeeltheopposite.Thenagain,I’mnotallCrossFittoughlikeyou.”Wasthishowsheexperiencedlife?Ienviedmen’sindifferencetopersonalsafety—howtheycouldamblethroughadarkalleywithoutthinkingtwice.
“Ofcoursetheyare.It’swhythey’resocruel.Menwithbatshitmanifestosandaccesstoassaultrifles.”
“Whywouldwescarethem?”
“Becauseweknowthings.Weseethings—sensethingstheymiss.”Shesteppedoverapileofhorsepoop.“Afterall,we’retheoneswhoatethefruitfromthetreeofknowledge.”
“Biblicalreferences.Old-school.”Wereallwomenmastersofdetection?Kristencouldbeobservant,readingimplicationsandpeopleandroomsinashrewd,cerebralway.ButIwasmoresensitivethanher,morethin-skinnedandporous.Itmeantthesightofabirddyingonthesideoftheroadcouldfillmewithsorrow,buttherewereadvantagestoo:Wheneverabutterflywhiffledby,myeyesbrimmedwithjoy,asifwesharedasecret.
Weturnedfromthenarrowstreetontoacobblestoneoneandgazedatthecutevegetarianrestaurantanew:Atreelikefernwasploppedinthecenterofthepatio,withcolorfuldreamcatchersandawornTibetanprayerflagstrungbetweennearbytrees.Kristen’sandmyexcitementovernewcitiesbordersonorgasmic.Whenwe’dstumbleduponthisspotearlier,wewerebothsoovercomebyitsloveliness,wefellintoaspontaneous,gigglinghug.
Kristenlovedtellingpeoplehowwemet,asifwewerealong-termcouplestillastoundedbyourluck.Sophomoreyear,weweretheonlywomeninourStatisticalMethodsinEconomicsseminar.Acoupleguys,mostlyseniors,hadboxedusoutofthediscussion,rollingtheireyesatourquestionsandregurgitatingourownpointswithalmostcomicalsmugness.Aswefiledbackintothehallway,I’dsmiledshylyatKristen.
“Sothatwas…interesting.”
“Weshouldstudytogether,”shereplied.“Ruinthecurveforallthoseassholes.I’mKristen.”
Ishiftedmybookstoshakeheroutstretchedhand.AndthenIfeltit,adecentering,awobblingmotionlikewhenyou’vejuststeppedoffaboat:Somepartofmeknewthiswasimportant,thatthingswouldn’tbethesame.
Ihadn’thadthatfeelingsinceI’dmetBenatapartyjunioryearofhighschool,whenhe,acuteprepsterfromtheall-boysschool,ambledoverandsaidhi,hisice-blueeyesholdingmine.Withinthemonth,wewereofficially“goingout.”Sophomoreyearofcollege,bythetimeKristen’shandgraspedmine,BenandIweredecidedlynotinloveanymore.ButIstilllovedhim,becausewe’dbeentogetherforyears.Itookabehavioraleconomicsapproachtoit:Allthetimeandspaceandknowledgeandfeelingswe’dalreadyinvested,thefuturewe’denvisionedbackinMinneapolis,wherewewerebothfrom—itfeltlikeadonedeal,inevitable.Sunkcosts,sunkenhopes.
Ihadsolittlecontextbackthen.Noabilitytotakeastepbackandseethingsclearly.Hetakescareofyou,Itoldmyself,becausehemadeitclearthathewassmarterthanme.Heonlywantsthebestforyou,Itoldmyself,becausehedislikedmymoreboisterouscollegefriends,hatedwhenIdrank,andturnednearlyapoplecticwhenItriedpot.Hewantsyoutobeyourbestself,Irecitedlikeawindupdoll,becausehewantedmetolearnaboutesotericRussianliteratureandart-housecinemaandsnob-approvedmusic.Plus,therewasacertaincozinesstoourdynamic,toknowinghowhetookhiscoffeeandwhichrestaurantweateatbeforeamovieandhoweverythingwouldend.Apeekatthefuture,likeflippingtothelastpageofamysterybeforethenarrativegetstoointense.
AndthenImetKristen.SheandIwerealmostinstantlyinseparable:Wediscoveredourmutuallovefornerdywordplayandstupidbrainteasersandwhippedupourownsecretlanguage,ourworldfortwo.We’dmeetallovercampustostudytogether,andthelocationinevitablycamethroughtextedclues—atreasurehuntwithourtogethernessastheprize.Overinthedorms,we’dleavecryptographsonthewhiteboardsoneachother’sdoors,codedcomplaintsofbeingSEXILEDAGAINorinvitationstoDINNERATHINMAN.Thestealth,hidingsecretsinplainsight,gaveallourinteractionsanelectriccurrent.Whodoesn’tlovegettingawaywiththings?
Anironicthought,Isupposed,afterwhathappenedinCambodia.Bloodonthefloorinawideningpool.
Incollege,thehighofprancingaroundwithKristenthrewintostarkreliefjusthowsmallandtenseIfeltaroundBen.Kristenhadbeenthefirsttoquestionit—toaskthejust-rightquestions,untilslowly,slowly,Icametorecognizethemanipulation,thecriticism,thesubtlegaslighting.IbegantoholdmygroundwithBenandcallhimoutonthings.Questionwhyourpostgraduationplanswerereallyhis,withmeassetdressing,aprop.HerswastheapartmentIrushedtoattwoA.M.when,senioryear,BenandIgotintotheArgumentoftheCentury,yellingandflailing.
HeandIalmostneverfought,ourresentmentbuildinginstead,andsoitwasoneofthosemomentswhenapartofyousplitsoffandhoversoveryoulikeadrone:Willyougetaloadofthis?Canyoubelievethisisreallyhappening?HewhirledawayandIreachedforhisshoulder,lookatmewhenI’mtalkingtoyou,andheturnedsosuddenlythatthebackofmyskullconnectedwiththewallbehindmebeforeIcouldfigureoutwhyorhow.
“Iwasn’ttryingtohityou,”hesaid,glowering,inlieuofanapology.Ipushedpasthimandrantothedoor.Afteramultidaystandoff,KristenwentovertoBen’sandmyapartmentandfilledasuitcasewhilehelookedon,jawset.Weneverhadanofficialbreakup.
I’dwantedtoseehimagain,pathetically;Iwantedtoscreamandcryasheheldme,becausehisarmswerealmostasfamiliarasmyown.ButKristenknewbetter.“Screw‘closure,’?”shesaidatthetime.“You’renotwastinganothersecondonthisloser.Nowhecanfindsomeonenewtotrytocramintoatiny,suffocatingbox,andyoucanbethebadassyouare.”
NowKristenstrolledovertoawaiterandhelduptwofingers.“Unamesaparados,”shesaid.Shealwayswasaquickstudy.Heletherchooseatableandshegavemethenicerseat,facingtheinterior;herviewwasofmeagainstthewall.
“Thishasbeensuchafunweek.”Shereachedoutandsqueezedmyforearm.“Solaid-backandmagical.”
“Exactlywhatweneeded,”Iagreed,unfoldinganapkin.
“Ihaven’tbeenthisrelaxedinalongtime.”
Stop.Stop.Stop.Bloodtricklinglikepaintdownthemetalpole.Kristen’seyeswide,amazed.Bloodmottlingherhands,herwrists,hershoes.
“It’slikenotimehaspassed,”shesaid.Shesnappedopenamenu.“Wecanpickuprightwhereweleftoff,likenothinghaschanged.Andthat’showyoucantellwe’retruefriends.”
CHAPTER3
Whathappenedwasthis:AmanattackedmeinPhnomPenh,Cambodia,andwekilledhiminself-defense.
Hewasabackpacker,aSouthAfricandudewithabigblondbeardandhugehairyarms,freckledandtanned.He’dturnedtousinadankbar—toKristen,casuallygorgeousinherelephantpantsandtanktopsansbra—andaskedhowwewerelikingCambodia.Hewaswhatwecalleda“duder,”frattyandloud,butcute.Afterafewminutes,hestuckouthishand(“I’mSebastian,bytheway,”)andKristentoldhimhernamewasNicole.Itwassomethingwe’ddoneincollege:tossingoutafakenametoindicatehowlittletheinteractionmattered,howsurewewerewe’dneverseethisguyagain.AfterBen,it’dkeptmefromjumpingbackintoanythingtooquickly—somethingKristenwarnedmeabout.Andduringourtrips,usingaliasesgavenightsathrilling,what-happens-in-Vegasundertone.
Iplayedalong,introducingmyselfasJoan.ButSebastiantheSouthAfricanwasactuallyfunny.AndinthewayitsometimesdoeswhenIfeelliketheless-desirablefriend,mywitflippedonlikealight,zappingandsparkingwithimpeccablespeedandtiming.Kristendidn’tseemtomind;hewasmoremytypeanyway,andshedidtheappropriatewingwomanthings:flutteringaround,chattingwithstrangers.
Thehoursdwindled;theaircooled.Firstthebardieddown,thenthestreetsoutsidefollowedsuit.Theroarofpassingmotorbikessoftenedtoapurr,punctuatedbyoccasionalshoutsfromdrunktourists.ItouchedSebastian’sroughbicepwhenhemademelaugh,andhepressedapalmonmywaistwhenwemovedtoletawaiterpass.“Nicole”boughtusanotherroundofAngkorbeerand,aswetoasted,shotmeaknowinggrin.
Talk,inevitably,turnedto“gettingoutofhere.”Hewasstayinginahostelevencrummierthanours,rentingabedinaroompackedwithbunks—soKristen,thesaint,insistedshewantedtohangaroundthisdeadbarforonelastsolobeer.“I’msureI’llbebackatthehotelby…midnight?”sheproposed,andSebastianandInoddedgratefully,anditwasallverycleartoeveryone.
Kristengrabbedmyelbowonthewayoutandaskeditonemoretime:“You’regood?”AndIhesitated.Ididn’tknowthisguy,afterall.Myone-nightstandsandthird-datehookupsbackintheMidwest(rangingfromfuntoregrettabletomaaaybenotreallywhatIwantedbutIwentalongwithitbecauseI’dstupidlyfoundmyselfinbed)hadhadapalloffamiliarityaroundthem—neighborhoodsIknew,acellphoneandthreedigitsIknewbyheart.Thiswasdifferent.NeitherKristennorIhadhadavacationfling.ButthenIbeatbacktheunease,thekindthatsooftencreepsupwhenyou’reawomanmovingthroughspace,becausethisguywasfunny,andhot,andhewantedme.
Ithinkaboutthatmomentalot,whenIpattedKristen’sarmandturnedaway.Howitchangedthecourseofourlives,Kristen’sandmine.Howourpathforkedoffandveered,leavingbehindsomanyuntouchedthreadsfunnelingoutofthecenterlikealacedoily.OnewhereIgaveintothewarinessandchangedmymind,andSebastianhuffedoffintothenight.OrIreroutedonthespotandwemadeoutinthebaroronajunglystreetcornerinstead.
Butasitwas,ontheknottedthreadIfollowedthatnight,SebastianandIleft.Aswewereheadingout,acamera’slightflashedtheworldaway,andwhenweblinkedthroughitIcouldn’ttellwho’dtakentheshot—onewe’dunintentionallyphotobombedinthelittlebar.Ithinkaboutthatpicturesometimes,too,howsomeonehasitlikelylockedawayintheCloud,unawareit’sofamissingpersoninhisfinalpublicmoments.Itcouldbevery,verybadiftherightpersoncameacrossit—connectedthedots,turneditovertoSouthAfricanauthorities.Whoknowswhatelseisunwittinglydocumentedinpeople’sphonesandharddrivesanddustyphotoalbums,backgroundnoisethatwouldswellwithmeaningtoadifferentaudience?
SebastianandIwalkedtogetherthroughthemosquito-chokedair,handinhand,andhispalmslippeddowntosqueezemyassaswegottothehotel’sfrontdoor.Theon-dutyemployeewasasleeponalobbysofa,andSebastian’sthumbstrokedmineaswewaitedtobeletin.Heatbuildinginmygroin,asexyfull-bodykissassoonaswewereshutintotheroom.
Themakingoutwashotatfirst:Idiscoveredhelikedtomixpleasurewithpain,catchingmylowerlipinhisteeth,rakingmyhairbackwithasharptug.Notmything,butitwasaturn-ontofeelabitlikeprey,sodesirablehecouldbarelycontainhisanimalisticurges.AndI’dhadenoughsexeducationovertheyears—quizzesinmagazinesandwine-fueledtalkswithfriends—toknowthatthewaytoBlowHisMind,toBeHisBestEver,istoshowthatyou’reintoitandreadhisnonverbalcues.SoIgavehisblondhairayank.Turnedaneckkissintoabite.Ranmyfingertipsoverhisbarebackandabruptlycurledmyfingers,tentinyscratches,andsmiledagainsthislipswhenhemoanedwithpleasure.
Butthen—somethingchanged.
Andthat’swheremybrainwantstohazeout,switchtoanotherchannel.Stop.Stop.Stop.
Thesensationofhismouthonmynippletippedintopain.Igaspedandpushedathischeek,andhemovedtokissmeagain.Thenhisfistclosedaroundmyhairandtuggedsohardtearsprickedmyeyes.Iwassurprisedanddim,“Hey,notsorough.”
Hesmiledagain,hismovementsstillsmooth.“C’mon,we’rejusthavingfun.”Histeethfoundmyearlobe,bitdownuntilIyelped.
Isatupagainsttheheadboard.“You’rehurtingme.”
“You’resofuckingsexy.”
“I’mserious.”Iswattedhishandawayfrommybreast.
HemovedasquicklyasaVenusflytrap,snatchingmywristinhispalm.“You’regoingtomakemeworkforit,huh?”
“We’redone.”Iclamberedoffthebed.“Ithinkyoushouldgo.”
Hiseyeshardened.“You’vebeenleadingmeonallnight.”
Atearsnakedfrommyeye,butIkeptglaring,keptactingtough.“Youneedtoleave.”
Butthenherearedbackandslappedme.“Ormaybethisishowyoulikeit?”Shockcrystallizedonmycheek,thepainlikethepealofabell.
Anicyplungeaslustturnedtofear,survivalmode,fightorflight.Ipushedhimaway,blindly,desperately,andmyhandcaughthisjaw—anaccidentalpunch.Nostrilsflaring,heshovedmeagainstthewallbymythroat—thwock,aclangagainstmyskull—andmyfingersflewtohisknuckles,tryingtopeelhispalmbackfrommyneck.Hisotherhandreacheddownandyankedmyunderweartothetopofmythighs.Ifeltanoddpulseofshame,likethemomentinadreamwhenyourealizeyou’renaked.
Hishammyfistencircledmywristsandjammedthemagainstthewallovermyhead—likeIwasawitchtiedtoapyre.Irememberthismomentinimpressions:hishipspinningmineagainstthewall,hisdickpushingupagainsthisshorts.Thesmileonhissweatyface,thecrueltyinhiseyesasIstartedtoscream.Hisfreehandliftinginslowmotion,thenflyingupagainstmymouth.Thebackofmyheadslammedintothewallagain,harderthistime—thesamesharpcrackfromthattimewithBen,eightyearsearlier—andIsawaflashoffuzzywhite.
Hepausedthen,andIstoppedstruggling.Scubadiving—that’swheremymindwent,zoomingoffasifunderwater.KristenhadwantedtotryitinVietnamyearsearlier,andI’dsaidnobecauseI’dreadoncethatdiversdienotfromrunningoutofoxygen,butfromdisorientation—theypanicandremovewhatever’sinfrontoftheirnoseandmouth.That’swhatIthoughtofasSebastianconcentratedallhisweightintomyjaw:somethinginfrontofmymouth,somethingIdesperatelywantedtoripaway,butIknewIwasscrewedeitherway.
He’sgoingtokillme.
“Emily!”
Webothfroze.Heturnedtolookatthedoor,andthoughIcouldn’tturnmyhead,Ifeltthepressureease.AngersurgedasIpartedmylipsandbitdownonaknobofcallousedflesh,harderandharderuntilthetangofironhitmytongue.
“Fuckingbitch!”Hereleasedmywristsandsteppedback,clutchinghisbleedingpalm.ThelaceofmyunderwearcutintomythighasIbroughtmykneeup,andIsurmisedfromhisgroanthatI’dhitmytarget.Hegrabbedhiscrotchandfellontome.
Aclangingsoundandhisbodymovedagain,andIscrambledoutfromunderhim.Kristenstoodaboveus,chestheaving,teethbared,areal-lifeBuffytheVampireSlayer.Shewasclutchingaheavystandinglamplikeabat,andasIscootedbackonmybuttsheswungitagain,andwithasickeningthunkitconnectedwithSebastian’sback.Hecollapsedtotheground,hisheadthuddingagainsttheflooraninchfromalegofthemetalbedframe.
IsawmyfuryechoedinKristen’sgaze;foramoment,welockedeyes.ThenIdetectedmotionbeforeIcouldevenprocessit.
“Stop.Stop.Stop.”
Iseeitinflashes,asifthroughastrobelight:Sebastian’sheadupagainstthebedframe.Threekicks,four,bloodstainingthemetallegandpoolingintothecracksinthelaminatefloor.IgrabbedKristenanddraggedherawayandintoahug.Weleanedagainsteachother,shaking.
Westayedlikethatforawhile.Seconds,minutes,possiblyhours.Motorbikesstreakedpastthecheapdrawncurtains,aflashandaroar.Sebastianwasstill.ItwasKristenwhopulledawayfirst.Hereyeswereclearnow,narrowed.Hervoicewasstrong.
“Wehavetogetoutofhere.”
Shethoughtaloud,walkedusthroughouroptions.Shefloatedtheideaofcallingthecops:Thiswasclearlyself-defense,afterall.Butourguidebookhadbroughtupthedifficultyofworkingwithpolicehere,andIknewfromthattimewithBenthatreportingassault—amoveI’dconsideredthenandseveraltimesinthemonthsafterward—ismorecomplicatedthanmostpeoplerealize.ThelastthingwewantedwastowindupinaCambodianjailcell,passportsconfiscated,accusedofmurder.We’dseenBrokedownPalaceandreadaboutAmandaKnox.
Iwasshiveringandincoherent,butKristenwasmagnificent.Shecheckedforapulseand,findingnone,madeaplan.Preposterousluckamidanotherwiseunluckynight:Thebarelymannedfrontdeskhadn’tlookedatourpassportswhenwe’darrived,andwe’dprepaidincash.Thebartenderhadoverhearda“Nicole”anda“Joan.”Sebastianhadbeentravelingforninemonths,onanopen-endedvagabondingtour—andlikeus,hewasproudtoeschewsocialmediaorregularphonecallshome.
We’dweighdownthebody,sheannounced,andheaveitoveranearbycliffintotherushingriverbelow.Coverourtracks.LeavePhnomPenhbeforeanyoneknewanythingwaswrong.Ifeltnumb,thetinglykind,asifsomeonehadhookedmeuptoanIVofNovocain.KristenandEmilywouldneverdisposeofabody,butsomehow,NicoleandJoancould.Theydid.TheensuinghourswereamoviemontageIwillmymindtonever,evercueup.Theyweregruelingandcruel,leavingmesoreforaweek,butKristenwastireless,herjawset,herexpressiondetermined.Ididexactlywhatshetoldme,andmiraculously,itworked.
Whenitwasdone,wetookabustoLaos,silentandsleepythewholeten-hourride,andspentthelastfewdayskeepingalowprofileinatwo-starhotelthere.Idon’tremembertheflighthome,thecabridefromtheairport,thesleeplessnightbeforeIreturnedtowork.IkeptseeingSebastian’sskull,dentedwhereit’dmetthebedframe’sleg,bloodforminganovallikearuby-coloredspeechbubble.
Iwasamess.Mybrainfeltfuzzyandopaque,coatedinblackmold.AtnightIfellintognarly,restlessten-hoursleeps,andduringthedayIburstintotearsatrandom.SomemorningsIsleptthroughmyalarmandwanderedintoworkmidday,myeyespuffyandunfocused.Iwententiredayswithouteating,thenwokeinthenightwithmystomachcrampedandempty.MymanagerwarnedthatifIdidn’tgetittogether,they’dneedtoletmego.Istaredathimblankly,toobrokentocare.
Sebastianshouldn’thavedied:Ididn’tsupportthedeathpenaltyandcertainlydidn’tfancyusvigilantes,takingjusticeintoourownhands.Itwasanaccident,self-defensethatwenttoofar.ButIdidn’tregretgettingridofhisbodyinsteadofcallingthepolice;I’dcometobelieveitwasouronlychoice.IdidadeepdiveonAmericanswho’dbeenarrestedoverseas—acrosstheboard,theirliveswereruined.AwomanfromOregonspentyearsawaitingtrialinArgentinaforfatallypushingherpickpocketintotraffic.AjailedspringbreakerfromVirginiainsistedhehadnothingtodowithanattackonarestauranthostessinAcapulco.Somanytravelersbattlingtogethomeorwhilingawaytheiryouthindingycells.Horrorstories,thesickeningthrillofthatcouldhavebeenme.Butthoughthestoriestooktheedgeofftheguilt,theydidn’trelievethetrauma,theunfairnessofitall.WhyhadtheuniversewedgedusbetweenCharybdisandScylla’ssharp-toothedbarbarity?
Shortlyafterwe’dreturnedhome,ItoldKristenIwantedtotalktoatherapist.Patient-clientprivacy,Ireasoned.Iknewshe’dtalkedtoatherapistasakid,afterherparents’death,whichmadehertheonlypersonIknewwho’dseenashrink.Ilikedthesoundofapaid,impartial,sympatheticear.Iwashavingnightmares,panicattacks,painfulechoesofthehelplessness,theall-consumingfear.
“I’msosorrytosaythis,”she’dtoldme,thecalltinnyfromitsnine-thousand-milejourney.“ButIdon’tthinkanyoneshouldknowtheconnectionbetweenusandthatguy.”
“EvenifIlieaboutwhereandwhenand…andhowitended,obviously?”
Averylongsilence.“That’snotreallyhowtherapyworks.”
“Didn’tithelpyou,though?Whenyouweregoingthroughsomething…traumatic?”
“Iwasakid—I’dlostmyparents,andmygrandparentshadnoideahowtotalktome.SoDr.Brightsidehelpedme,like,learnsomecopingmechanisms.Butyou’reresilient,Emily.You’restrongashell.Iknowyou.”
Alongsilence.Finally:“WashernamereallyBrightside?”
Shesnorted.“Soon-the-nose,right?Lookingback,thatmust’vebeenanomdeplume.”WhenKristenspokeagain,hervoicewassoft.“Ijustwantyoutobehappy.Andhealthy.Youshoulddowhateveryouneedtodotomakethathappen.”
ButIdidseeherpoint.“Iknowyou’reright.Ican’tthinkstraight.I’mstillprocessing.”
“Itwillgeteasier,Ipromise.Anduntilthen,I’mtotallyhereforyou,anytime,dayornight.Iwasn’tsureifyouwantedtotalkaboutit,soIdidn’tbringitup,butI’mhere.”Bubblesbackinhervoice:“IcantotallybeyourDr.Brightside.”
“Howdoesnothinggetunderyourskin?”Itriedtosayitplayfullybutlandedsomewherebetweenhurtandjealous.
“Idon’twantyoutothinkI’mnotlistening.Ihearyou,IswearIdo.”Sheinfusedthewordswithurgency,andIfoundmyselfnodding.“I’vebeenstrugglingsincethentoo.OfcourseIhave.Butwhatalwaysgroundsmeisknowingyou’vegotmyback,nomatterwhat.AndI’vegotyours.We’rehereforeachother.Right?”
Ididn’tyetknowhowmuchshemeantit.How,intheweeksandmonthsthatfollowed,she’dcallmeeverysingleevening—hermorning,beforework—tocheckin,toaskhowIwasfeeling,totalkmedownorchampmeuporcatchmeoffguardwithsomethingsofunnyIcouldn’thelpbutfeellikemeagain.Onweekendsshestayedonvideocallswithmeforlongstretches—onceherentirenight,afulltenhours—andwatchedmovieswithme,orderedfoodforme,sentservicestopickupmylaundryandcleanmysad,stickykitchenanddoallthethingsshe’ddoinpersonifshecould.Iknewifshewerethereshe’dbespooningtheudondownmythroat,tenderlywashingmyhairandclippingmynails.Whenshesaidshe’dbemyDr.Brightside,Ididn’tyetgrasphowshe’dsaveme,piecemebacktogetheryetagain.
ButIknewthatshemeantit—thatshewasthereforme,comehellorhighwater.AsobroseandIclearedmythroat.“Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyou,”Itoldher,tear-stainedandalmostcatatonicinmydarkenedlivingroom.
Shechortled.“Let’shopeweneverhavetofindout.”
CHAPTER4
“SoI’vebeenmeaningtotalktoyouaboutsomething.”Kristensetdownherforkandleanedherelbowsonthetable.
ItookasipofmyCarménère,grassyanddark.Chileanwinewasconsistentlydelicious.“Ohyeah?”Funny—IwasjustabouttotellheraboutAaron.
“Ididn’twanttobringituprightaway.Iwantedto…feelyououtfirst,Iguess.ButI’lljustcomerightoutandsayit.”ShespreadherpalmsandIwatchedthem,slow-motion,howherfingertipsflared.Myinnardscompressed.IthastodowithCambodia.
Thenshepiercedthedramaticpause:“Ithinkweshouldtraveltheworldforsixmonths.Startingthissummer.Yoursummer.”
Itdidn’tsinkin.Likeshe’dspokenrapidSpanishandnowstaredexpectantly.“?‘Traveltheworld’?”
“Youhavetonsofmoneysavedfromyourcushycat-foodjob,”shewenton,“andIwasthinkingoftakingasabbaticalatwork.MysubletrunsoutinJune.I’mtotallyserious,Emily.Wecoulddothis.”
Ishookmyhead.ItwasstrangeenoughtoimagineKristenontheundersideoftheglobe,theliltofhersentencesmorphing,athick“roight?”pepperingherspeech.ButKristenwasatrailblazer,anadventurer.I,stable,dependableEmily,simplypaidherexcitingworldtheoccasionalvisit.CouldIreallyputmylifeonholdnow,whenIwasabouttoturnthirtyandfinally,finallyseeingsomeoneIliked?
“Don’ttakethisthewrongway,”shesaid,whichpeopleonlysaywhenthey’reabouttoinsultyou,“butwhat’skeepingyou?You’renottieddown—youdon’thavesnot-nosedkidsandaboringhusbandoracareerthatfeelslikeyourcallingorafamilyyou’reclosewith.Right?”
Ibitmylip.Shewasmostlyright:nosiblings,amomandstepdadinSt.Paul,adadandstepmominnorthernIowa,alloutoftouchformonthsatatime.
KristenandIhadbondedoverthisincollege:Whileallourclassmatesseemedtocalltheirmothersonceaday,atminimum,werarelyspoketoourguardians.Aroundthen,Istartedtorealizewhy—Inoticedhowcasuallycruelmyparentscouldbe,dismissiveandself-centered.Kristen’sgrandparents,NanaandBill,hadraisedherafterherparentsdiedwhenshewastwelve,andthoughthecouplealwaysseemedniceenoughwhenImetthem,KristenclaimedBillwasatyrantandNanaaballofanxiety.
Kristenglancedaroundtherestaurantandthenhitmewithasparkly-eyedsmile.Icaughtherexactmeaning,best-friendtelepathy:Thiscouldbeourlives.Traversingtheworldtogether.Discoveringwildcornersofcivilization,bathingourselvesinlandscapessosurrealtheybelongedinspaceoperas.
But:Aaron.NotthatIshouldplanmywholelifearoundsomeoneI’donlybeenonfourdateswith.But.
Sheleanedforward.“IrememberbackwhenyouandBenbrokeup,youwerelike,‘Thisisit—nowmylifecanbehuge.AsexpansiveasIwantittobe.’?”Herhandsshotout.“But…Iknowit’sdifferentformebecauseit’smyhometown,butisMilwaukeereallywhereyouwanttobe?”
“IloveMilwaukee.Unlikeyou,Ireallydolovelivingthere.”
“ButyouweretheonewhomadeitsoundlikeanexpansivelifemeantleavingtheMidwest.”
“Hmm.”
ThewaiterappearedandKristenaskedwhatbeerstheystocked,andItuggedatathreadcomingloosefrommyplacemat.
ThebreakupwithBen:aknifeinmypsyche’stenderestflesh.BanishedtoKristen’sapartment,discombobulatedandglum.Atthetime,myfriendAngie,apluckyredheadedlinguisticsmajorI’dmetinchessclub,hadsharedtheburdenofnursingmybrokenheart,steppinginwithicecreamandsympathywhenIneededabreakfromKristen’sscrew-himMO.When,afewweeksafterthesplit,AngiesuggesteditwouldbenicetogohomeforChristmasandhavemymom“doteonme,”Iburstoutlaughing.
“WhenItoldherwebrokeup,allmymomsaidwas‘Huh,IwasjuststartingtolikeBen.’?”
Angie’sjawdropped.“Shedidn’t,like,askwhathappened?”
“Whywouldshe?”Myfolks,who’ddivorcedwhenIwasateenager,hadmetthephysicalrequirementsofAcceptableChildRearingtoaTand,comecollege,seemedrelievedtheynolongerhadtoattendtomycomingsandgoings.
Angieconsidered.“Well,Idon’tknowwhatshe’stalkingabout—weallhatedhim.”
Istaredatherforamoment.Angie’sverdict—somethingI’dknownforweeks—stillburned,thesecreteveryoneatschoolhadbeenkeepingfrommepracticallysincefreshmanorientation.EveryonebutKristen.
Athomethenextweek,myscalpprickledwithwonderasneithermymomnormystepdadmentionedBenondayone,daytwo,daythree.Thetopicofmylong-termboyfriendgrewshyandconspicuouslyquietinmymind,likeanemptycemetery.KristenandIspentthenexttwoChristmasesonourowninwarmplaces:FortLauderdale,thenPuertoRico.ThetripswereKristen’sbrilliantidea,sun-splashedjauntsthatcementedherspotonmypersonalfamilytree,theonethatmatters:theFamilyYouChoose.Yourfolksdon’tgiveacrapaboutyourfeelings,she’dpointedout.Whydoyouowethemyourtime?
KristenselectedaChileanlagerandsenttheserveronhisway.Shefoldedherhands.“Thinkaboutit,Emily.Yousaidyourselfthatallyourfriendstherearemarriedandhavingkids.”
ButIwantthat.Tearsprickedatmyeyes,severalstrandsoffrustrationfusingintoone:annoyancewithmyselfforpatheticallywantingaboyfriend;shamethatIcouldn’tbeallcarefreelikeKristen,couldn’tdropitallforsixmonthsofwanderlust.
“OhmyGod,don’tcry!”Kristen’shandflewdowntomine,threadedthroughmyfingers.“I’msorry—I’msayingthisallwrong.Ijustmean…somanypeoplewouldkilltohaveyourfreedom.Allourcollegefriendsareluggingarounddiaperbagsandburpclothsnow,right?”Webothchuckled.“Ijustthought…hey,we’returningthirty.Isn’tnowtheperfecttimetotrysomethingnew?AndIgotexcitedthinkingwhatourlivescouldbelikeontheroad.Likeitusedtobe,onlybetter,becausewe’regrown-asswomennow.”Shesatupstraighter,stillclutchingmyhand.“YouknowIloveourtrips.Butseeingyouonce,maybetwiceayearisn’tenough.Imissyoulikecrazy.”Shelookeddownattheplacemat.“And…andlastyear,whenyouwerehavingatoughtime,IfeltawfulthatIcouldn’tbethereforyouinperson.You’rethemostimportantpersontome,youknow?”
Thistimelastyear.Mystomachflipped,picturinglastspring,post-Cambodia:howI’dfloatedthroughworkinastupor…onthedaysImanagedtomakeitin.HowIswungbetweendeep,spasticsobsandwild,thrashingpanic,asinglethoughtlikeasubtitle:I’mgoingtodie.
“It’snotjustthat,though,”shewenton.“ImisswatchingNetflixonthebedwhenwe’retoolazytogoout.Imissdiscussingasingletopicoverthecourseofdaysorweeksandnot,like,mentallyorganizingalifeupdatewithbulletpointsforoneofourthree-hourcalls.Idunno.Justme?”
Ishookmyheadandlaughed.“Yeah,no,metoo.It’sjust—itnevercrossedmymind.It’snotsomethingIeverimagineddoing.”Isatback,tookasipofwine.“KristenCzarnecki.Youcrazybitch.”
Shelaughed.Shehadthenicestlaugh—fullandmusical.“Wecantotallydothis.Whynot?Otherpeopledoitallthetime.Hell,wemeetthemonourtrips,andI’malwaysjealous.Wecouldbethepeopleeveryoneelseisjealousof!”
Shestaredatmethen,smilebroad,hereyespleading—thesamelookshegavemewhenevershewastryingtoconvincemetogoonanadventurewithher.Climbintothisabandonedcavewithme;followthesestrangerstoaspeakeasyinanotherneighborhood.Hercajolingalwayspaidoff,alwaysledtothemostmagicalandmemorablepiecesofatrip,soIneverregrettedfollowingherfearlesslead.
LookhowthingshadturnedouttheonetimeI’dtriedspontaneityonforsize.
Stop.Stop.Stop
Iwouldn’tthinkofthatnow.ImetKristen’sgazeoverouremptyplates,bitsofavocadoandquinoaspecklingthesurfaces.Allthatwasbehindus.Thisweek—thisproposition,whichflippedandfrothedinsideme—provedit.
“Pleasetellmeyou’llconsiderit,”shesaid.
“I’llthinkaboutit.”ShesquealedandclappedandIfeltmyselfblush.Okay,anotherdelayintellingheraboutAaron—Iwasn’tgoingtoruinthemomentnow.I’dseehowIfeltinthemorning.
Backatourinn,wefollowedatwistystonestaircasetoaplateau,whereanovalpoolwinkedupatthesky.Welolledonitsloungechairs,battingleakingfromtheirseams,andcountedshootingstars.Isawfive;Kristen,six.
—
OURLASTDAYhadthatmisty,prematurelynostalgicair,bittersweetaswesuckedineachsightandexperiencehungrily,willedittolast.Iwokeupearlytovisitthetown’sprettychurch,withitsceruleanceilingandsimplestainedglass,itsoutsidethefriendlywhiteofachippeddinermug.Kristen—onceadevotedProtestant,nowvehementlyopposedtoorganizedreligioninanyform—didn’twanttohearaboutit,andinsteadgreetedmeinthehotellobbywiththejust-rightshadeofmilkycoffeeandaproposedplanfortheday.
Werentedbikesfromakioskandtotteredoverthewindingroad,stoppingtogazeatthemountainsinsilence,asifsayinggoodbye.Wepulledonbathingsuitsandplungedourtoesintothehotel’sfrigidpool,thenreclinedinthefilteredautumnsun,sharingabottleofChardonnayandreadingourbooksinamicablesilence.Thehotel’swhistlingcustodianclambereduptoashedandgaveusawavebeforediggingarakefromatangleoftoolsinside,andKristenjumpedupandaskedhimtotakeaphotoofuswithmycamera.Igotusbothmassagesatatiny,green-walledspa,wherewelayonmustymassagetableswhilethick-limbedwomenrubbedourbackswithmorespeedthanprecision.Itwasaperfectlastday.Kristendidn’tmentionthebackpackingpitch,butIcouldfeelitbetweenus,thepossiblefuturehoveringlikeasharedmemory.
Iwastorn.Thoughshewasstillrightnexttome,IalreadymissedKristen.I’dsunkbackintothesalveofherdevil-may-caresenseofhumor,herconstantchampioningofme—shesawmeasstrongandsmartandcompetent,andshealwayshadapeptalkattheready.AsotherfriendsinMilwaukeepairedoffandmarriedandhadkidsanddriftedfurther,fartherawayfromme,ripplesinapond,Kristenremainedmoreloyalthanasister,morelovingthanadotingmom.
But…partofwhatmadeourtimetogetherspecialwasthatitwaslimited.Andstuffwasmaybe,finallyhappeninginMilwaukee—therewasAaron,thethoughtofwhomsetoffsmallfireworksinmychest.Plusthepossiblepromotionatwork,thejobIgenuinelyliked.
Ibroachedthetopicwhilewepausedforanafternooncoffee.Ilovedthispartofatravelday,thepredinnerahh.Wewereonabenchinfrontofashipping-container-turned-caféthatsoldcoffeeandChileanpop(BilzandPapandotherexcellentlynamedsoftdrinks)fromasawtoothwindow.
“So,I’vebeenthinkingaboutwhatyousaid.Abouttravelingfortherestoftheyear.”
“Ohyeah?”Sheslidbackhersunglassesandbeamedatme.She’daskedforhercoffeeoverice,cafésobrehielo,towhichtheserverfrownedinconfusionandscoopedsomecubesintohersteamingcup.
“I’mtrulyhonoredthatyouaskedme.”Myribcagetightened—Ihatedconflict,hatedlettingsomeonedown.“Youknowyou’remynumber-onetravelbuddy.Myride-or-die.”
“But?”
Isighed.“It’snotagoodtimeformetoleaveforsixmonths.Thingsarehappeningatworkand—andI’minterestedinsomeone,whichI’lltellyouallabout…”IpausedtogiggleatKristen’sdelightedgasp.“Ijustwanttogiveitachance.Youknow?ButIstillreallylikethisidea,andthere’snooneI’dratherdoitwiththanyou.Canwemaybetrytomakeithappennextyear?”
Shewasquietforamoment,staringintohercoffee.
“Kristen?”
Shelickedherlip.“I’mtakingitin.Apartofmereallywantstotrytoconvinceyou.”
“I’msorry.”
“No,it’sokay.Ijust…wow,Ireallythoughtyou’dsayyes.”Shenodded,slowlyatfirstandthenwithfervor.“I’mbummed,obviously,butI’lldealwithit.Hey,tellmeaboutthisguy!There’saguy?!”
Hersmilewasbigandbraveandtry-hard,anditsnappedatmyheartlikearubberband.Still,Ismiledback,feelingablushcreepupmycheeks.“HisnameisAaron,”Ibegan,“andwe’veonlybeenoutafewtimes.”
“Andyoudidn’tmentionhimallweek?Istheresomethingwrongwithhim?”shejoked,smackingmeplayfully.
“Imean,whoknowsifit’sevenanything.Anddatingis,like,theleastinterestingthingwetalkabout.”Isnickered.“Ididn’twanttobethegirlwhocan’tshutupaboutaguyshebarelyknows.”
“Don’tworryaboutit.Iknowyou’vealwayshadissuesaroundself-esteemwithdudes.”Hereyeswidened,likesomeoneelsehadsaidit.“OhmyGod,thatcameoutwrong.”
Itstung,butIshookmyhead.“No,it’strue.YouknowhowharditisformetobevulnerablewithsomeoneIlike.Andhowevenlikingsomeonehappenssooorarely.”
“Totally.Well,andyouhavethisnastyhabitofpickingguyswhoareoneone-millionthasawesomeasyouanddon’ttreatyoulikethequeenyouare.”Shegrinned.“Sotellmeabouthim!Doeshekissthegroundyouwalkon,likehedamnwellshould?”
Ilaughedandfeltmyshouldersloosen.“Notyet,butIthinkhemightactuallybeagoodone?”AndsoItoldherabouthim,glancingawaywhenevermysmilefelttoobigformyface.Whatarelief,feelingthissecretI’dbeencarryingsoftenanddissolve.Kristenlistened,eyessparkling,pressingherpalmstogetherandoccasionallypunctuatingmypatterwithquick,happyclaps.Sosupportivewasshe,soencouragingandexcited,thatIforgottomakeapointI’dvowedearliertostateoutright:I’mnotchoosinghimoveryou.
—
ITWASASaturday,andrestaurantsthat’dbeendarkthenightbeforewereflickingonlights,sweepingoffdecks.Weselectedacozycaféwithbeanstewsandheartycorncasseroles.Kristen’sguidebookwasright:OurwaiterconfirmedthatcheapbusesrolledinfromSantiagoandValparaisoandtheAtacamaDesertweekly,andwewatchedasnewvisitorsstreamedpast.Twoshiny-haired,bird-bonedwomensatinthecornerwiththeirenormousbackpacksnexttothem,likecanvasstand-insfordinnerdates.Therewasabustlenow,movement,energymatchingourown.Kristenwasstillactingnormal—bouncyandebullient—andIfeltdizzywithrelief.Thethoughtofdisappointingherfilledmewithafireballofanxietyandguilt
Outonthestreet,sheclutchedmyarmandpointedatthesky:starsasbrightasfireworks,layersandlayersofthem,likesomeonehadcleanedofftheglassseparatingusfromtheheavens.Igaspedandgaveherasidehug.
“That’sus.”Shepointedjustabovethehorizon.“Seethosetwolittlestars?Youcantell.”
Itwasgoofybutsomehowperfect;theywereequalinsize,closetogether,andjustasmidgeabovethemountaintop.“Whichoneisyouandwhichoneisme?”
WebothsquintedandthenIspokeagain:“You’retheoneontheleft,thepinkishone.”
“Iwasgoingtosaythesamething!You’retotallythegreenishone.”
“Ithinkit’sbluish.”
“That’ssogreen-starofyoutosay.”Wewatchedthemgiddily,thesetwobright-burningpeasinapodlight-yearsaway.Warmandtogether,justlikeus.
“Let’sgogetadrink,”Kristensuggested,andoffwewent.
Awholenewswathofplaceswereopentonight:darklotstransformedintoleafypatioswherestringlightsclungtolatticeworkandvines.WeorderedbottleafterbottleofcheapChileanwine,SyrahandCabernetSauvignonandChardonnay.Wedancedtopoptunes,bothAmericanandregional,andateendlessbowlsofspicycornnuts,lickingourfingerswhenwefinishedeachrefill.
Iwentofftothebathroomandgotwaylaidforawhile—firsttohuntdowntoiletpaperfromaharried-lookingemployee,thentofindsomeonetoholdthestalldoorclosedforme,thentocarryonanenthusiasticconversationwiththehelpfulstranger,whowasn’tacompletestranger,itturnedout:Shewasoneofthetwotinyblack-hairedbackpackersI’dspottedattherestaurant,andshewasfromLondon,andwelikedeachothereversomuch.
Imademywaybackoutsideandstaredinconfusion:Therewassomeoneatmytable.ButwasIlookingatthewrongtable…?No,therewasKristenacrossfromhim,noddingwithherchininherhand.Hehadafiveo’clockshadowanddarkhairpulledintoasmallponytail,andskinsotanitglowedamberinthedimlight.Likeembersinacampfire.
Icrossedthepatioandstoodoverthem,andsuddenlyeverythingwaswrong.Icouldfeelitinstantly,onherface,herposture,thestifflineofherback.Mychestfrozeover,iciclesontheinside.
“Oh,thisisPaolo.”Shecuthimoffmidsentence.“He’sfromSpain.Hewasjusttellingmehowhe’sspendingayearbackpackingacrossSouthAmerica.”
Hesmirkedandflickedhischintowardme.“IthoughtmaybeyourfriendNicolewasdoingthesamething,travelingaroundbyherself.”Heshrugged.“Butforwomen,it’smuchsaferwithafriend.”
Noticicles—somethingsharper,likeahead-freezetomyentirebody.
“ThisisJoan,”Kristensaid.Shesweptherpalmmyway,nevertookhereyesfrommyface.“She’sthebestfriendagirlcouldhave.”
CHAPTER5
Ibreathedhardandchastisedmyselfforfeelingupset:Kristenwasallowedtoflirtwithacutebackpacker.Notjustallowed—Iowedittoher,afterallshe’ddoneformeinCambodia.AndafterI’ddroppedthebombofAaron’sexistence?Ofcourseshewasseekingalittleromanticvalidation.Aslongasshedidn’tditchmeforhim,itwasfine.Itwasaselfishthought,butoneIhopedshe’dpickupon:Ididn’twanttobeleftaloneinanunfamiliarcityafter…
Iwatchedthetwoofthembanterandrearrangedmyfaceintoanattentivesmile.I’djustwaititout,andatsomepointhe’dstepawaytobuymoredrinksorshe’dheadtowardthebathroomandIcouldtellher,makesuresheunderstoodIneededhercompany.
Butanhourpassed,thentwo.TherewasanothercodeKristenandIhadusedthroughoutourtwenties:afingerpoint,plus,“Doesn’theremindyouof[arandommalefriend,realorimagined]?”Inevitably,themanwouldtellushehad“oneofthosefaces”andgotthatallthetime,butweknewwhatthecommentreallymeant:I’mdonetalkingtothisguy;anescapehatch,please.
Shedidn’tinvokeit,herget-out-of-jail-freecard,soafterawhileIinterruptedandsaiditmyself:“Kristen,doesn’tPaololooklikemyfriendDennis?”
Kristen’sbrowpursedinfriendlyconfusion.“Youthink?Idon’tseeitatall.”Thensheturnedbacktohimandsmiledconspiratorially.“You’remuchmorehandsome.”
Soitwason.Isteeledmyself,movedaroundthepatio,mademorechitchatwiththeBritishgirls,breatheddeeptoslowmyracingheart.It’sjustanhour.She’sbeenhavingterribledatingluck.Don’tbesuchachicken,nottomentionacock-block.
“Nicole”announcedshewantedtoshowPaolothecrystalsshe’dpickedoutatthemarket,andIgaveheronemoreout:“You’resure?Youknowwehavethatflighttomorrow?”Shebrushedmeoff,soIrecitedmylines:Theyshouldgo,Iwantedtofinishmydrink,butIwassleepyso(yaaawn,streeeetch)I’dprobablybebackinforty-fiveminutes.Paololiftedhisgiganticbackpack,andKristentouchedherpalmtomycheekgratefullyastheyslippedpast.
Ihoistedmyselfontoastoolatthebarandpulledoutmybook.Istrungmypurseoverthebackofmychairandtriedtoread,triednottothinkaboutwhatwashappeninginoursuiteafewblocksaway.Ienvyher,Irealizedsuddenly.Sexhadbeenstrippedfrommylistofacceptableactivitiesforafullyearnow,tothepointwhereitwaswearingmynewloveinterest’spatiencethin.Andhereshewashavingaspontaneousvacationhookup.Asifnothingbadhadhappenedthelasttimeoneofusgavethatago.
Buttherewasmoretoitthanthat,andIsatquietly,waitingformythoughtstosnapintoplace.Aha:Ienviedhim,aswell.AweekwithKristenhadremindedmehowIfeltbraveraroundher:morecapableandresourceful,morecavalierandfun.Chosen.Kristencoulddothat,herattentionlikeatractorbeam,nowtrainedsquarelyonPaolo.Onourlastnight,noless.
Butthatwasjustmyowninsecurity—Iwashappyforher,herandthishandsomeSpaniard.IhadAaronwaitingformeathome,andmoretravelswithKristentolookforwardto.Maybewereallycouldpulloffthatbackpackingstintnextyear,whenthingsweremoresettledwithAaronandKibbleandmylifeinMilwaukee.Thethoughtcheeredme,andIorderedabeer.
Thirtyminuteslater,Iswallowedthelastofit,thenaskedforabottleofwater.ThirtyminuteswhenIwasblissfullyunawarethatpanicwasabouttogoofflikeagrenade.Aloneinaleafybarwithcigarettesmokeandthebarksofdesperatedogswaftingpast,Inoticednothing.Ireachedformypurseandhalfregisteredthatitwasunzipped.Stuckmyhandinside,feltaround,slowlyatfirstandthenwithmountingalarm.Islidfromthestoolandsearchedtheflooraroundmyfeet.Pattedmyhips,asifmysundresshadsuddenlygrownpockets,thentorethroughmybagagain.
“Someonetookmywallet,”Igaspedatthebartender.IforgoteverySpanishwordI’deverlearned.
“Mil,”herepeated,thenpointedatthebottleofwater.“Onethousandpesos.”
Ishookmyheadandopenedmypursewide,asiftoshowhim.“Idon’thaveanymoney.Someonetookit.”Myvoicecrackedandhemadeasympatheticface,thenwhippedthebottlebackbehindthebar.Ihuggedmybagagainstme,unsurewhattodonext.
Whenhadsomeonetakenit?IpickedbackovermyminutesaloneatthebarlikethiswasapuzzleIcouldsolve,rootingaroundfortheinstantmysubconscioushadpickeduponsomethingwrong.Thewaysomefarawaypartofyourbrainsnagswhileyou’releavingyourscarfonabus:amomentarysomething’snotright
Nervespoppedalongmyneck.Someonehadwatchedmefromacrossthebar,noticingmybaghanginglimplyasIcurledovermybook.Plungedtheirfingersinsidejustinchesfrommyhipandstrolledawaywithfiftybucksinlocalcurrency,mydriver’slicense,andafewcreditcards.Ilovedthiswallet—greenleather,arelicfromafleamarketdatewithanotherex,Colin.Stupid.I’dletmyguarddowninaforeigncountry—andI’dbeenviolated.
Itookasteptowardtheexit;Kristenwouldknowhowtohandleit.Ithadn’tbeenforty-fiveminutesyet,butI’dknockandknock,givingthemtimetocoverup.She’dhugmetightandknowwhattodo.Shealwaysknewwhattodo.
ButthenIsankbackintoaseat.Ishouldwait.Barginginonthemnowwouldjustbeselfish.
Anotherdecisionthatchangedeverything.WhatifI’drunstraightback?Bangedonthedoor,interruptedthemjustabitsooner?
Itwastime—Irushedoff,makingmywayuphillinthedark,andrappedontheglassdoortooursuite.Inthesecondthatfollowed,Iknewsomethingwaswrong:agasp,aclang,astrange,strangledgroan.
“Kristen?”Myheartbeatwildly,thewalletforgotten.Itriedthehandle,thenfumbledinmybagformykey.“What’sgoingon?”
Islidthedooropenandslappedatthelight.Itblaredon,blue-whiteandhideous,andIfroze.
Kristensatcrumpledonthefloor,crying.Hertearsmingledwithasprayofbloodacrossherjaw,andthereweresmearsofitonherpalmandforearm.
“Whathappened?”Iasked,myvoicealmostawhisper,andsheliftedhereyestome.Somethingcameintofocusbehindher:twolegs,pokingoutfrombeyondtheaquacouch.
“Emily.”Shereachedforme,atoddlerwhowantsMommy.
Mypulsewassolouditwasanocean,surfpoundingagainsttheinsideofmyskull.Whoosh.Whoosh.Whoosh.
Likeasleepwalker,Itookastepforward.Thenanother,andanother,pastKristen,whosefacedroppedbackintoherblood-spatteredhands.
“Heattackedme.”
Anotherstep,another.Thenthesightblastedthroughmelikeasonicboom,shakingallmycells:thebottleofwine,streakedwithred.Bloodonthetilefloor,formingastrangeamoebashape.Hiseyesopenandvacant,andjusttotherightofthem,thedentinhisskull.
Ishriekedandsanktomyknees.
“Heattackedme,”sherepeated,strugglingtostand.Imethergazeacrosstheroom.“Youhavetohelpme.”
IletoutasobandturnedbacktoPaolo.
“Emily.”Iheardherwalkingtowardme,towardus,onelivingpersonandonedeadone.Shepaused,andherpalmfoundmyshoulder.“Wehavenochoice.”
CHAPTER6
Theroomdisappearedaspanicpulledmeinlikeariptide.IsqueezedmyeyestightwhilegravityreeledaroundmeandIbegged,begged,beggedthechurningtugstobeawormhole,apassageoutofthisnightmare.
Eventuallythespinningslowed.Icrackedmyeyesopenandthescenefilledin,likeaPolaroiddeveloping:brightredsandyellowsandorangesandgreenscrisscrossingthedarkness,andpeopleswarmingaroundme,partinglikeIwasarockinariver.Anightmarket—IwasstandinginthePhnomPenhnightmarket,lanternsdanglingineverydirectionandhawkersinalinesellingnoodlesoupandcheapCambodianmagnetsandjewelrydrippingwithsparklystones,allbathedorangefromtheartificiallight.
ButwherewasKristen?Ilookedoutatthestallsandcooksmokeandhubbubthatunspooledintoinfinity.Thensomeonewastouchingmefrombehind,strokingmyleftarmwithincreasingurgency,andIjumpedandwhirledaround,butnoonewasthere.
“Emily.”Kristen’svoicestrainedwithconcern.Butwherewasshe?MyheartthunderedasIlookedaround,completingafullcircleaspeoplebumpedpastme,ashawkersshoutedinKhmer,asteenagershorsedaroundandtwobackpackersarguedinFrenchandsomeonegrabbedmyarmagainandIturnedtotrytocatchthemand—
“Emily!”Kristenwaskneelingaboveme,clutchingmyarmandshakingitlikeatambourine.Ilookedatherinwonder.
“Areyouokay?”Shetouchedmycheek.“OhmyGod,thatwassoscary.Youtotallypassedout.No,don’ttrytogetup.Areyoudizzy?”
Ipeeredather.Wewerein…Chile,that’sright,inoursuite.Andthatmeant…ohGod…
“Youreyesrolledbackandyouslumpedtotheside,itwasterrifying.Stayhere,I’llgetyousomewater.”Shescurriedoff,andIsawthesightthat’dknockedmeoutthefirsttime:Paolowithhisdoll-likeeyesandcratered,weepingskull.Iscrambleduptoasittingpositionandbackedaway.
“Here,drinkthis.”Shethrustacuptowardme.Herhandwastremblingsohardthatapatterofdropssloshedovertheside.
Itookasip.Thoughtspinged:Wecouldstillcallthepolice.Howdidthishappen?Whatisitaboutusthatthishorriblethinghappenedtwice?There’snowaywe’llgetawaywiththisasecondtime.What’sherplan?
“Kristen,”Iwhispered.“Whatdowedo?”
Herexpressiondroopedtowardthefloorlikemeltingwax.Shecrawledovermykneesandtowardthebathroom,andtheretchingsoundsweresoloud,Ithoughtcrazilythatthenoisemightwaketheneighbors.NevermindthedeadlybattleIimaginedthesewallshadjustabsorbed.
Igatheredmylimbsandclimbedtomyfeet,swayingforasecondbeforefollowingher.IwilledmyownnauseatofreezeinplaceasIrubbedherback.
“Oh,Emily,Iwassoscared,”shewailedintothetoiletbowl.“Itwassosudden,hewasbeingtooroughand—thelookinhiseye…”ShegaveuptryingtotalkandIswipedatthetearssurgingdownmyowncheeks,hotandraw.Iknelttohugher,ourtorsosshakingintandem.
Therealizationwaslikeacartearingtowardmeontheroad:Youhavetostepup.Youneedtopullittogether.Wehaven’tgotmuchtime.
“Okay.”Iskatedmythumbacrossatearonhercheek.“Weneedtothink.”Itippedmyforeheadagainsthers,exactlyasshe’ddoneformethatnightinCambodia.“Wecould…wecouldcallthepolice?”
Alarmblazedinhereyes.“WhywouldthepoliceherebeanybetterthanthepoliceinCambodia?I’mnotgoingtoprisoninChile.”
“We’lltellthemwhathappened.”
Sheglancedtowardthelivingroom—somuchblood—andshookherheadurgently.“Theywon’tbelieveus.”
“Youdon’tknowthat.”
“Youcouldbarelycommunicatewellenoughtogetuscheckedin.”Hereyesglistened.“Thecopswillthrowusinacelluntiltheycanfigureoutwhat’sgoingonand…and…”
Somethingrushedupthroughme,ashriekorsoborbile.“Kristen,thisisinsane.”Myheartbeatlikeadrumrollandmybreathsprintedpastit,tightandquickandtoohighupinmyribs.Mylungswereonfire,squeezingliketwofists.
ConcernbloomedonKristen’sface.“Breathe,Emily.”
Inhaler,Imouthed,unabletomusterevenawhisper.Sheboltedintothelivingroomandreturnedwithmypurse,andfranticallyIduguntilmyfingersclosedaroundtheperiwinkleplastic.Iliftedittomylipsandinhaledthetinieststream.
Tenseconds.Nine.Eight.Exquisitereliefasthevaporsworkedtheirwayintotheairsacs.Seven.Six.Aninternalrelease,likeatourniquetloosening.Ifinishedthecountdownandtookanothereagerdose,puffingmychestandnoticingKristen’sworriedexpression,herhandonmyarm.Rust-coloredspecklesmottlingherskin.WelockedeyesasIcounteddownaseconddose,timefrozenforteninfinitesecondsuntilIexhaledagain,loudly.
“I’mokay.”Ipulledawayfromher.“Idon’tunderstand.Howcouldthishappenagain?Wasn’tonceenough?”
“Idon’tknow,Emily.Idon’tknow.”Sheshookherhead.“Areyou…doyouthinkit’ssomethingIdid?ThatIwasaskingforitsomehow?”
“No!No.That’snotwhatImeant.”Mythoughtswerealljangly,comingoutwrong.Still,ittuggedatme:Werewesomehowattractingthiskindofawfulness?Puttingsomethingouttheretolureinthequick-temperedanddangerous?Ididn’tthinkitwasKristen’sfault,notatall.Yetthecoincidencecouldn’tbeignored.“Areyousureweshouldn’tcallthepolice?Ican…I’llwalktoreception,maybesomeone’sstillthere.”
“NooneatthehotelspeaksanyEnglish.”Shetouchedherfingerstoherchin,smearedthebloodthere.“Howwillweexplainit?Whathappened?”
Ifishedaroundforthewords,butmybrainwasblank.Kill,die,attack,rape—theonlytranslationIcouldpullupwassangre:blood.
“We’llactitout,”Isaid,“showthemyourinjuries.”Mypalmcrepttomyneck,whereeggplantybruiseshadsatswollenandangryforweeksafterPhnomPenh.IlookedatKristen’sthroatandsawnothingbutPaolo’sbloodonheralabasterskin.“Whatdidhappen?”
“Heattackedme,”shesaidagain.Sheshrunkinward,hunchedhergracefulshoulders.“He…hegothandsyandItoldhimtostopandthenhepushedmyshouldersagainstthewallandIsaid,‘Hey!’andhesaid,‘Cállate,puta’and…”Atearleakedout.“Heshovedmeagainsothatthebackofmyheadcrashedintothewall.AndIwasfightingbackandhestartedtoclosehishandsaroundmythroat.AndIwasterrified,obviously.Afraidformylife.SoIreachedoutandgrabbedwhateverIcouldfindandmyhandclosedaroundabottleofwineandIswungit,hard,togethimawayfromme.Iswungitwithoutlooking—Iwasn’taimingforhishead.”
“I’msosorry,”Isaidafteramoment.“That’s…that’sself-defense.”
Shesqueezedhereyesclosed.“Itwaslasttimetoo.Theywon’tbelieveme.Noonebelievesvictims.We’restupidAmericans.AndI’mwearingbootyshortsandatanktopwithoutabraandwegotdrunkofourownaccordandItookthisguybacktoourhotel.Willingly,Iinvitedhimtomyroom.WetalkedthroughallthisinCambodia,Emily.Doyouthinkit’ssuddenlychanged?”
Iswipedmyhandundermynose.Shewasn’twrong—allthosehow-to-stay-safe-while-travelingarticleswarnedusnottodressprovocatively,talktostrangers,leaveafriendunchaperoned,bringanunvettedmanintoone’sroom.ThoughI’dwrestledwiththehornetlikethoughtafterCambodia—WasitsomethingIdid?—Icouldn’tletKristendothesame.
OhmyGod.Howhadthishappenedtwice?
Hereyespoppedopen.“RememberwhatIsaidaboutAmandaKnox?Everyoneattackedher—themedia,thegoddamnItalianpolice—becauseshelikedsexanddidn’tbehavetheexactwaytheywantedhertoafteratragedy.Now,she’safreakingpariah.Hernameissynonymouswithscandal.Thiswouldbeafront-pagestoryformonths—itwouldruinourlives.”
Kristenwasright.Asalways.Thehorrorstorieswerestillfreshinmyhead:thekidlockedupinAcapulco,thewomanimprisonedinArgentina.Andthiswasmychance,myturntoprotectherlikeshe’dprotectedmeafterCambodia.Tofinallyrepayherforwhatshedidforme.Iwassotiredandconfused,andKristenseemedsosure.
SheandIhadgottentattoostogetherinVietnam,tinylotusflowersonourinnerankles.Itwasherthirdtattoobutmyfirst.Inthesecondbeforethetattoogunhadstungmyflesh,theartisthadlookedupatme:Ready?
Ifeltthatsamewildrushnow,thedarkfinality.Theweightofthemoment’sirreversibility.
“I…Iguessweneedtogetridofthebody,then,”Isaid.“Andcleanuphere.”
“Okay.”Shenoddedslowly,pulledawayfromme.“Okay,let’sthink.”
“It’sdark.”Ileanedagainstthetubbehindme.“That’llhelpus.”
“You’reright.That’sgood.”Shesatback.“Coverofdarkness.”
“We’llwearblack.”
“Good.”Shetippedherheadbackandclosedhereyes.“Butwhatthehelldowedo?”
Ireachedoutandflushedhervomit.Welistenedtothegurgle.
Sheglancedatme.“Canwedropitoffacliff?”
It.We’dbothnoticedtheswitch.
“Where’sthereacliff?”Iasked.
“Nexttothemainroad—it’ssosteep.”
“That’sadrop-off,notacliff,”Ipointedout.“They’llfindhimassoonasthesuncomesup.”
“You’reright.”
Mymindhadcuedupasupercut,everydisposing-of-a-bodysceneI’deverwatched.Noirs,reenactments,slickcrimethrillers.“Isn’tthereadam?”Iasked.
“Adam?”
“SomeonementioneditinVicu?a.WheretheydammeduptheElquiRiver.”
“OhmyGod,you’reright.”Shechewedonherlip.“Wecould—wecouldweighitdown.LikeinCambodia.Doyouknowwhere?”
Ishookmyhead.“Noidea.ButIcouldlookitup?”
“We’renotturningonourphones.Absolutelynot.”
“Whynot?”
“Becausewedon’twantanythingdefinitivelytyingushere.”
Weweretrappedoffthegridatthebottomoftheworld,onadifferentplanefromournormalexistence.Thethoughtwasanotherclangingbell:Shit,shedoesn’tknowIconnectedtotheWi-Fitocheckmytexts.
“Thedistillery.”Kristensatupstraighter.“Theyweredigging.Allthedirtwilllook…freshlydisturbed,sonoonewillnoticeifwe…”
Ifrowned.“Youthinkweshouldburyhim?”
“Youjustsaiditcan’tbeoutintheopen.There’s…there’sareasonpeopleburybodies.”
Theroomlurchedagain,aquickspinonanemotionalTilt-A-Whirl.“Okay,”Isaid,“butnotatthedistillery.They’veseenusthere,andtheycoulddigitupinasecond.”Ilockedmyarmsaroundmyknees.“Somewherefarfromhere.Wegetinthecaranddriveouttothemiddleofnowhere.Betweentowns.Inthepitch-black.”
“You’reright.That’sit.”Shewasquietforamoment,thenstruggledtoherfeet.
IstaredatPaolo,whosevacanteyeswatchedtheceiling.Afteralongmoment,Istoodtoo.
CHAPTER7
Howtotransportthebody:Thatwasthefirstchallenge,thefirstofmany,croppingupfasterandfaster,multiplyinglikecancercells.
We’dusethecar,obviously.Buthowtokeephisbloodoutofthetrunk’sinterior?Kristenfirstarguedthatweshouldstealasheet,leavebehindtwentybucksandanoteapologizingforstainingthelinenswithlasangredelamenstruación.ButIpointedoutthatwouldonlydrawattention.
ThenIhadtheideaofstuffingPaolo’sheadintohisemptiedbackpacksothatthewaterproofcanvaswouldtrapthebloodinside.Better.Weemptiedthehugesackandpositioneditonthefloornearhiscrown,thenheldourbreathasweeachgrabbedashoulder.Wecounteddown,thenliftedhisupperbodyandshimmiedthebackpackdownoverhisdamagedskull,OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.Wegotitoverhisshoulders,thebestwecoulddo,andthenweyankedittothesideandlowereditontoacleanpatchoffloor,lestitfallintothepoolofstickyblood.Icoveredmymouthandfoughtdownburps;Kristenletoutastrange,throttledlaugh.Onthetile,Paolonowlookedlikeasurrealistpainting:FigurewithaBackpackHead.
Buttheclockwasstillticking,SouthAmericaswivelingbacktowardthesunlight.IbegansortingthroughPaolo’sthings.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Kristenasked.
“Findingeverythingthatmakeshimeasilyidentifiable,”Isaid.“Sowecanburnit.”Ifeltsurprisinglyfocused,uncannilyalert.KristenhadcometomyrescuewhenI’dbeenshatteredinCambodia,andnow,Ineededtodothesameforher.Onlyoneofuscouldfallapartatatime.
Kristenkeptwatchingme,herhandsclutchednearherbreast.
IsuckedinabreathandreachedintoPaolo’sfrontpocket.Ialmostcriedout—Icouldfeelhishipbeneaththefabric.Findingnothing,Imovedontothenextpocket,thenhisbackones,theweightofhisassbearingdownonmeasIyankedoutawallet,thenacellphone—shit,aphonewasn’tgood.Ismasheditwithafewhardstomps(Stop.Stop.Stop.)andaddedtheshardstotheburnpile,alongwiththepassportandjournalwe’dshakenfromhisbackpack.Ajournal—thissetoffafountainofhorrorinsideme.Icouldn’treadtheentries,butthehandwriting,squared-offandsmall,madehimreal.
InoticedKristenbyhersuitcase,methodicallyshuntingclothesinside.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
Shelookedup,wide-eyed.“Packing.”
“Why?”
Sheshookherhead.“Aren’twegettingoutofhere?”
Equallybewildered:“Not—notnow.”
Theargumentwasfierceandthrumming.Shethoughtweshouldgetoutoftown—throwPaolointhetrunk,packourthings,andleaveafewhoursearly,buryingthebodyatthelonelieststretchwecouldfindalongtheway.Butdisappearinginthemiddleofthenightwhenwe’drequestedalatecheckoutmightpromptcuriosity,perhapsacloserinspectionoftheroom,evenabitoftowngossip:?Quépasóconlasdosgringas?Weneededtoarouseaslittlesuspicionaspossible.
“We’llburyhimtonightandthencheckouttomorrowmorning,”Itoldher.“Likeeverythingisnormal.Thinkaboutit—it’sourbestoption.”ShestaredatmeuntilItookasteptowardher.“It’sokay,Kristen.We’regoingtogetoutofthis.You’resafenow.I’m…”Ihesitated.ItwaslikeIwasreadingherlines.“I’mhere.”
Sheswallowed.“Howarewegettinghimintothecar?”
InCambodia,we’dsimplydraggedSebastian,butthatwasoutonanabandonedhill.Iglancedagainatthesheets.“Weneedtomakesomekindofsling.”
Kristen’seyeslitupandshedisappearedintothebathroom;Ifoundhereasingtheshowercurtainfromitshooks.“Andit’llbeanotherlayerofprotectionforthetrunk,”shesaid.Inodded,military-serious,andbeganunhookingtheotherside.
WepulledthedooropenandIdashedoutsidetodorecon.Icockedmyhead,listening.Thecoldblacknessboiledwithinsectsounds,screechingcicadasandrattlinggrasshoppersandkatydidscrooningtogether,asynchronoussymphony.Abreezerippledthevinesandtrees,afizzing,hissingsoundcomingfromeverywhereatonce.Overhead,thestarslookedonstoically.Far-offspotlightsonournightmarishtableau.Nosignofotherpeople—ofwitnesses—anywhere.
Twoearsplittingbeepsandthecar’strunkhingedopen.“Quickly,”Iwhispered,pushingpastKristeninthedoorframe.We’dspreadtheshowercurtainalongPaolo’ssideandnowwesteppedontoitscornersanddraggedhisbodyandbackpackontop.Wepickedupthecurtain’sedges,liketwoladiesfoldinglinens,andcountedtothree.
Christ,itwasheavy.Likewe’dliftedatarpfilledwithrocks.Ifeltityankingawayfromme,backtowardtheearth,andthoughtwildlythatthiswasweightI’dfeelforever.Theshowercurtaintuggedatourpalmsandwepausedtomakesureitwouldn’tripatthebottomandspillpooledbloodasPaolorushedbacktothefloor.Afterafrozenmoment,Imurmured,“Let’sgo.”
Theloadwasbulky,awkward,swayingandknockingagainstourkneesasweshuffledandwhisperedandstumbledoutside.OhGod,wasthatPaolo’sheadpushingagainstmyshin,gluedwithbloodtotheinsideofhisbackpack?Myfingerscrampedagainstthesweat-slickplastic,andthepaincreptupmywrists,myforearms,mywholeupperbodytensingagainsttheweight.
WereachedthetrunkandIalmostcriedoutwithrelief.Anothercountdownandweliftedthebundletowardthebackofthecar—butKristenraisedhersidetooquickly,thosetonedarmslikealever,andforawildsecondIthoughtwe’dcatapulthiminside.Myheartbeatscatteredaswejostledthecurtain,almostovercorrecting,butthenweevenedoutandloweredhimintothetrunk.Idashedbackinsideandloadedmyarmswithhisotherclothes,whippingmyheadaroundtomakesureIwasn’tmissinganything.AmigrainesurgedbehindmyeyesasIhustledbackintothecoolairanddroppedPaolo’sclothesontopofhim.
Thetrunksquealedaswepusheditshut,andweglancedaroundthesmallparkinglot.Nomovementonthestreetorintheblackenedwindowsofanearbyguestroom.Ofcourse,ifsomeonewaswatchingusfrominside,wewouldn’tbeabletoseethem.Wewerestakingsomuchonluck,onthegamblethatI’dunderstoodthehotelreceptionistcorrectly,thatmostofthepropertywasvacant.
“Shovels,”Iprompted,movingtowardthestonesteps.Thiswasanotherreasonwecouldn’tjustpackupandleave:Wecouldn’tdigwithourhands,andborrowingandreturningshovelsfromthehotelbeforedawnwasanothermicrostepinourgambittoremainforgettable,undertheradar.Aprocessthatalreadyfeltpainstakingandnearlyimpossible,likebuildingashipinabottle.
Kristenfollowedmeupstairsandtotheendofthepool.Theairupherehadthatcold,steely-cleansmell,anditwasoddlybright,asifthewaterweren’tjustreflectingthenightskybutactuallyamplifyingit.Ashudderranthroughme,guiltlikeasprinkler:Paoloonthebarpatioearlierthatnight,aflesh-and-bloodbeingwithsecretsanddreamsandlovedonesand—
No.Hewasabadman.
HeattackedKristen.
Shewasfightingforherlife.
Shereachedtheshedandranherpalmsoverthedoor’sparticleboardsurface,thenfoundthelock:asmoothpadlockthathungfromtwostripsofmetalscrewedintothedoorandtheframe.
“Shoot.”Shegaveitatug.“It’slocked.”
Mybrainrecentered,anauto-refresh.InudgedheroutofthewayandliftedthelighterI’dbroughtfromthesuite.Myproblem-solvinginstinctclangedon,thesameknackthatmakesmesogoodatescaperoomsandbrainteasersandmyjobasaprojectmanager.Maybefocusinghardonthissimpleproblem—doorislocked;weneedwhat’sbehindit—woulddistractmefromthelargerandmorehorrifyingissueonourhands.Thestainedbackpackheapedinthetrunk,andthepileofbonesandorgansandpoolingbloodinside.“Here,holdthis.”
AsKristenclutchedthelighter,Iduginmypockets,thenselectedthetiniestcoin—anoctagonalone-pesopiece.Ieaseditssideintoascrewthatheldthelockagainstthedoor,thenturned.
Shegasped.“It’sworking.”SheheldherfisttohermouthasIrotatedthecoin.
Mymindscuttledahead.“Wehavetoleaveeverythingexactlyaswefoundit,”Iwhispered.“Weshouldevenmessupourfootprintshere.”Everythingwouldneedtolooklocked,secure,untouched—nothingtoraisesuspicion.Hopefullyever,butatleastlongenoughforthesignsofourpresencetogrinddowntonothingness,forthehotelsuiteandwalkingpathstomovebacktowardtheirmediancondition.Likewe’dneversetfoothere.
Ipluckedoutthescrewwithasurgeon’scare,thenpulledonthestill-lockedpadlock.Thedoorswungtowardme,andthehardwarewithit.
Kristenpushedinfrontofme.“You’reagenius.Let’sfindthoseshovels.”
Ialmostcouldn’tbelievetheywerethere:leaningagainstthebackwall,cakedindirtandjumbledwithrakesandhoes.Eachtoollookedlikeadeadlyweapon,somethingmeantonlyforpummelinghumanflesh.Forawildsecond,Ipicturedit:KristeninCambodiawiththemetallampheldaloft,sa-wingbatterbatterbatter.Hereyesaselectricasastorm.Theimageflipped:Kristeninthesamestance,buthere,withabottleofwine.Ifeltabriefswoopoffearandpusheditaside.
IgrabbedashovelfromKristen,andsheduckedbackintotheshed,riflingaround.
“Yes,”shehissed,thenheldouttwoflashlights.“Let’sgo.”Sheplungedbacktowardthestonesteps,thespadeslungagainsthershoulder.LikeshewasoneoftheSevenDwarfs.Hiho,hiho,it’sofftoburyabodywego.
CHAPTER8
Kristensquintedoutthewindshield,hershouldersbuckledinconcentrationaswerolledoutofthedrivewayanddownthemountainroad.
“Canyousee?”Iwhispered.Hernightvisionwasbetterthanmine,aswe’ddiscoveredonastargazingtourafewnightsago,whenshehadtoguidemebythehandtothemassivetelescopetheguidehadsetup.Myastigmatismmadethedarknessstatickyanddull.Astigmatismandasthma—smalldefectsmostlysidesteppedinthemodernworld.Itwasthebigthingsthatgotyou:bottlesofwine,themetallegsofabedframe.Alengthyplummetfromthelipofacliff.
“Icanseeenough,”shereplied.“I’llturnontheheadlightsassoonaswegetaroundthecorner.”
“Thelastthingweneedistogoovertheside.”Alaughrosethroughme,neonandhysterical.IturneditintoacoughandKristenglancedatmesharply.“I’mfine.”
Theengineseemedimpossiblyloud,atanktrundlingthroughthesilence.Ofcourse,ithadtoworkharderwitha180-poundmaninthetrunk.Another40withhisbackpackandbelongingsoverandaroundhim.Wewereluckyhehadhisbagwithhim,thathehadn’tcheckedinanywhereyet.Ifhe’dleftallhisstuffinahostel,surely—
Kristenignitedtheheadlights,thenslammedonthebrakes.Acreaturesatintheroad,aboutafootlong,withripplinggrayfurandenormouseyes.Arabbit—no,achinchilla.Itfixeduswithanaccusingstare,thensaunteredovertotheshoulder.Kristenexhaledandtookherfootoffthebrake.Iwatcheditthroughthewindowuntilitsoutlinemeltedintothecharcoalnight.
Ikeptfeelingitsobsidianeyesonme,judging,seeing.TheincidentinCambodiahadfeltimprobable,out-of-body,thekindofthingthathappenedinmoviesandtrue-crimepodcastsbutnottome.AndyethereIwas,blackenedbyalightningboltasecondtime.
InPhnomPenhI’dbeenuseless,shakingandcryingandchatteringatthejawsoviolentlythatKristenhadcloisteredusinthebathroomwiththeshowerrunning,thesteamturningmycheekspinkanddrawingbloodbackintomyhandsandfeetasifhypothermiaweretherealproblem.She’dpulledittogether,becausesheneededto.RememberedtherushingwaterofTonleKak,thespookystoriesofwomenfillingtheirpocketswithrocksbeforeflingingthemselvesoffacliff,hopingforariptide.Adisappearanceifwewerelucky,aprobablesuicideifthebodyturnedup.Theplanwasharriedandhaphazard,butithadtowork.Ithadworked.
NowKristenclungtothewheel,herchinstrainedforward,thesameposturesheadoptedwhenshedrovethroughablizzard.Thereelofhorrorstoriesloopedinmyheadagain,unluckyAmericanslockedupabroad,andanewthoughtsentterrorupmyarms:IfsomeoneconnectedthistoSebastian,we’dbedoubly,irreparablyscrewed.Wecouldn’tbringPaolobacktolife,andjustlikeinCambodia,ourprioritymustbemakingithomewithoutleavingbreadcrumbsbehind.
Kristenhitthebrakesinthemiddleofthestreet.IglancedaroundforastopsignI’dmissed.WhenIturnedtoheragain,shewasslumpedagainstthesteeringwheel.
“Thisisn’tgoingtowork,”shesaid,hervoicemuffled.
Astaboffear.“What?”
Shelookedupatme.“Therearenotrees,notevenshrubs.We’llbetotallyexposed.There’snothingbutreddirt.”Shetippedherfacebackdownandadriphoveredontheendofhernose.
ArushingsoundfilledmyearsandIfeltcoldagain,myshouldersandjawtensing.She’sright.WhatthehelldidIknowaboutevadinglawenforcement,aboutditchingagoddamnbody?Itwashopeless;weweredonefor.
ButthenIlookedatKristen,sagginginthedriver’sseat,andtendernesssprangupinmychest.Iknewhowshefelt;mybrave,beautifulbestfriendhadjustbeenattacked
Iblinkedhard.She’ddonethisformeinCambodia—Icoulddigdeep,channelherconfidence.Bethereforherlikeshe’dbeenforme.“Thenothing—that’swhywe’resafe,”Isaid.“There’snothingoutthere,sonoonewillstumbleontothespotwherewedig.Nohikersor,orcamperswiththeirdogsorfarmersoralpacaherdersoranyoneelse.”
Shewipedhersilverytearsandnodded.Thecarbegantomove,imperceptiblyatfirstandthenwithmountingassuredness,asifit,too,weregrowinginresolve
TherewasonlyoneroadinandoutofQuiteria,aswellasallthetownsbeforeandafterus,atwistytwo-lanehighwayslitheringthroughthevalleylikealizardintheshade.Ithoughtbacktowhenwe’dfirsttrundledontoit,afterafewconfusedloopsaroundSantiago:flat,openroad,howsunlighthadbeamedintothewindshield,ascheeryandcharmedastheLatinpopKristenfoundontheradio.Everythingwasblastingthatday:thebassthroughthespeakers,thesunthroughthewindows,ourzippysedandownanendlessroad.
Neitherofusrememberedseeinganysideroadsupintothemountains—justsuddengridsofstreetswhentheroadbloatedupintotownsandvillages.Nowwewereinabarrenstretch,withsignsplacingthenexttownateightykilometersaway,andKristentaskedmewithlookingforaswathofmountainwecouldwalkoutinto,somethingremoteandforgettable,andnotnearfarmers’fields.Itwashardwork,notleastbecauseIwasalsokeepinganeyeontheclock:We’dbeendrivingforahalfhour,andweneededplentyoftimetogetbackandreturntheshovelsbeforethesunrose.Itwasalreadyafterone,andthesunwouldbeupatseven.AndthoughI’dneverdugagrave,Iassumeditwouldtakehours.
“Whatabouthere?”Isaid,soquietlyIhadtoclearmythroatandrepeatmyself.Kristeneasedthecartoastopandopenedherwindow.Thecoldrushedin,eageranduncaring.Foothillsloomedoneithersideoftheroad,raggedoutlinesblottingoutthestars.Therewereafewbushesneartheroadandasmatteringofskinnypines,butnosoundformiles.
“Thiscouldwork,”shesaid.“I’lldrivedownandseeifthere’sabigcurveahead—wedon’twantanothercarappearingoutofnowhere.”
Wehadn’tseenanothersoulallnight,butitwasasmartthingtocheck.
“Goahead,”Isaidafteraconfused,waitingmoment.
“Youshouldgetouthere.”
Coldsplashedthroughmyinsides.“What?Why?”
“C’mon.Figureoutwhichhillweshouldbeclimbingandmakesuretherearenosignsoflife—fencingorshedsoranything.”
“You’regoingtoleavemeherealone?”
“Justforaminute.We’regoingtoloseoursenseofwheretostopotherwise.”
Istaredather,myheartthrashing.
“Emily,wedon’thaveallnight.Canyoupleasejustdothis?”
Windwhippedaroundthebrushandthroughheropenwindow,ahushed,zippingnoise.Itmingledwiththewarmthofthecar,andwiththeoxygenchurninginandoutofmybody,mychestheavingasifI’drunamarathon.
Okay,Ithought,thenrealizeditwasaloud.“Okay.Okay.Okay.”IreachedforthedoorhandleandheldmybreathasIpulled.Thedomelightsflickedon,spookingusboth.Kristenlookedpaleandchildishinthesallowglow.
“I’llberightback,”shemurmured.“Aimyourflashlightattheroadwhenyouseeme.”
Inoddedandsteppedintothefrigiddarkness.Iswungthedoorshutandshedroveoffintothenight.
Iwasalone.Thespacearoundmewaslikesomethingsolid,chilledairandnightsoundsandthecosmospushinginonme,vibratingonmylips,myscalp,myeardrums.Ifeltasuddeninstincttopierceitallwithawildscream.InsteadIsqueezedmyfingersintofistsandwatchedKristen’staillightsshrinkinginthedistance.Theyhookedtotheright,thendisappearedaltogether.
Thecoldairfeltchargedandfearmushroomedinsideme,ahugedesperatethrash.I’dbeleftaloneforever;thewholeworldhadevaporatedanditwasjustme,aloneintheEarth’swrinkledfold.Theskyoverheadwastoobright,toohigh,toodeep.Iclickedonmyflashlightandsweptthefeeblebeamontothesoilbehindme.IwishedIhadmyphone—itslightputthisonetoshame—butKristenhadinsistedweleavethematthehotel;eveninairplanemode,shesaid,aphonewastraceable,chatteringwithsatellitesinthenightsky.
Overthelastfewdays,we’dlearnedwhatastrangeswatchoflandtheElquiValleywas:tropicaltreesandbrightflowersonbarpatios,fieldsoftendervegetablesstretchingfromonemountainbasetoanother,butbeyondthat,anaridmoonscape,mountainscoatedinpebblygray-brown.Thestreakofgreennarrowedinpoints,likehere,wherethevalleyoasiswasonlyaswideasthehighwayandafewroadsideshrubs;ineverydirection,Isawslopedhillscoveredindesiccateddirtandtheoccasionalrock.We’llhavetocoverourfootprints,Ithought,andbenttofindaboughthat’dworkasamakeshiftbroom.
Pinpricksoflightinthedistance,andmyshoulderseased.OnlynowdidIletmyselfindulgethehellishvision:meabandoned,wanderingthismountainroadasmytonguegrewparched.Kristenspeedingtowardcivilization,aloneexceptforthebodyinthetrunk.
Ipointedtheflashlightatthepavement,andthepalediscoflightshookintimewithmyhand.Kristenrolledtoastopandclimbedoutofthecar.
“Didyoufindagoodspot?”Shecrossedtomeandputherhandsonherhips.
“What?Oh,notreally.”Howlonghadshebeengone?It’dfeltlikehours,likedays,butIhadn’tactuallydoneanyrecon.“It’sjustslopinglandineverydirection.Didyouseeanything?”
“There’sacurveupaheadsoIfolloweditforawhile.Nosignsofanyoneusingthisarea.Ifwe’resmart,weshouldbefine.”
Iturnedtofaceuphill.“Thereareafewbigrocks.Ifwedigrightbehindone,it’llbehiddenfromtheroad.”Iheldaboulderintheflashlight’sbeam,andKristennoddedandopenedthecardoor.Theshovelsleanedagainstthebackseatlikeawkwardteenagers,andtheyclangedasKristenyankedthemout.
Wesetoffonthecrumblyhillside.Onestepatatime.Onefootinfrontoftheother.Onetask,thenanother,thenanother.
“It’sjustafterone,”Isaid.“Ifwewantthecarbackatthehotelbeforesunrise,wehavemaybefivehourshere.”Carinthelot.Shovelsintheshed.Padlockonthedoor,hardwarescrewedbackintotheframe.Ourthingsfoldedinoursuitcases,thehotelsuitetidy,likewe’dneverbeeninthatroom,thisvalley,thiscountry.Thisquivering,epicnightmare.
“It’senoughtimeifwekeepourheads.”Shehesitatedonastone,thenpushedoff.
Myheartboomed.Icouldfeelherlistening,waitingformetoaddsomething.“We’realmosttherenow,”Imurmured.“Thisisalmostbehindus.”
Weclimbedinsilence,calvesclenching,thegroundsuckingonourtoesasweleanedagainstthepitch.Mybreathhitchedfromthehardwork—thehardworkandthehorror.
It’dseemedeasierinCambodia.Orwasthatonlyinhindsight?Icouldrememberscenesfromthatnight,thehotel-roomcleanup,thesearchforsmoothstonestoslipintohispockets.ButI’dbeennumb,sonumb.Anabruptcessationoffeeling,likesomeonehadswitchedoffalamp.
Therealhorrorhadcomeafterward,acocoonofpain.
Ifrozeandlookedbacktowardthecar.“Shouldn’twehavebroughthimwithus?”
“What?”Kristengaveherheadalittleshake.“Em,we’llfindaspotanddigahole.Thenwe’llgobackandgetthebackpackandeverything.It’dbeawkwardtodragallthatweightwithus.”
“Sowe’rejustleavinghiminthetrunkandmakingmultipletripsbackandforth?Isn’tthatpushingourluck?”
“We’realmostattherock.Let’sgo.”Shesqueezedmyarm,gentlyatfirstandthenhardenoughtobruise,tobreakthebloodvesselsunderneath.“Let’s.Go.”
Ipower-sighed,thenturnedmyflashlightbackuphill.
Therockwasfartheroffthanit’dseemedfrombelow;inthedarkness,Icouldbarelymakeoutthecarnow,ortheroadthatsnakedbelowit.Kristenreachedtheboulderfirstandpressedherpalmagainstitgratefully.Itwasaboutherheight,aswideasitwastall.
Istoodtheshovelinfrontofmeandnoseditintotheearth.Suckedinabreath,thensetafootontopandleanedmyweightintoit.ThebladeplungedintothecrumblygroundandIlostmybalancebeforerockingbackandgougingoutasiltychunk.Mylatstightenedandasliverneedledintomypalm.Ipokedatthewound,thenhurriedtocatchuptoKristen,who’dalreadyclearedasmallhole.
Crunch,hiss.Crunch,hiss.Overandover,werammedourshovelsintothearidgroundandslidthedrydirtintoagrowingmound.Itwashardwork,butrhythmic,likepaddlingacanoe.Wehuffedasweraisedeachclumpofsoilandgroanedaswetippeditontothepile
In,thenout.Myarmsbegantoshake.Painbranchedoutfrommyspine,alongmybackandshoulders.Blistersspranguponmyhands,thenpopped,sendingstingingbloodintothecracksofmypalms.
Down,thentotheside.Sweatslidbeneathmybreastsandalongmytailbone.Themusclesaroundmywristsburnedlikethey’dbeendousedwithacid,andtheshoveltrembledsohardIhadtofocustokeepthesoilfromscatteringoffthesides.TerrorthreatenedtoriseupthroughmyribsbutIfunneleditintomymusclesinstead,glutesandquadsscreamingaswedug,dug,dug.
Theskywaschanging.AtfirstIthoughtIwasimaginingit,butwhenIshinedtheflashlightonmywristwatch—thesmallmovementpainfulinmyoverworkedarm—Isawitwastrue.Thestarsweredulling,liketheywereallonadimmerswitch.Morningwascoming.Notsoon,butnotthatlongnow.
“Weneedtodigfaster,”Isaid,wheezingabit.“Wecan’tbecarryinganythingupherewhenpeoplearedrivingtowork.”
“Ithinkit’sdeepenough.”Sherestedherpalmsontheshovel’shandle.“There’sroom.Let’sdoit.It’snevergoingtobeperfect.”
Wasitdeepenough?Orwoulditleavethebodyrightupagainstthesurface,awaitingthedogorwindorflashfloodthatwouldbreakthroughthecrustontop?Asuddenbreezeruffledpast,nuzzlingmysweatybodywithablastoficycold.Therewasnotime.Idroppedmyshovelwithathud.Shedidthesameandwetrotteddowntotheroad,ourheelskickingupclodsofdirt.Mybackandarmswereonfire.Iwasgoingtobesosore.
IttookKristenamomenttofindthekeyandanothertolocatetheopen-trunkbutton.Thetrunkflippedupinstantly,cheerily,yawningwideandthensinkinghalfwaybackdown.
Paolowasstillinthere,afreaky,Dalí-esquesight:acolossaltanbackpackwithlegsgrowingoutofit.Arumpledcasseroleofclothessurroundedhisanklesandshoes,forcingthefeetintoanodddiscopose.ThoughtstumbledbeforeIcouldstopthem:HadPaololikedtodance?Run?Rockclimbupcliffsorteardownthemonamountainbike?Whathadgivenhimthoseknobbycalfmuscles,theswollenquads?Mystomachlurchedandsomethinghystericalsomersaultedupthroughme.Ipressedmyhandsonthebumperandthecoldmetalbracedme.
“We’llusetheshowercurtainagain,yeah?”Shepeeledbackitsplasticcorner.“Makesurealltheclothesareheresowecancarryeverythingatonce.”
Inodded.Mybodywascrampingupfromthedignow;mybackthrobbed,myfingershadstiffened,andhotpainunfurledalongmyneck.MostofPaolo’sclotheswerepiledaroundhishairylegs,butafewitemshadslippedbeyondtheshowercurtain,andIsnatchedthemupandpiledthemonhislumpyknees.
Thisisaweirdbreakfromreality;you’reabouttoslipintoanalternatetimelineandwormholebackwhenit’sover.Thisisaprojecttobemanaged,aproblemtobesolved.Keepgoing.Keepgoing.Keepgoing.
Ituggedmyshirtcuffovermybloodypalmandgrabbedtheshowercurtain’scorners.Myforearmsscreechedinpain,beggingmenottolifthim.Itriedtotakeadeepbreathanditsplitintoanasthmaticcough.
“Youokay?”Kristenasked,andInodded.Shemetmyeyes.“Good.Onthree.”
Ithurtsithurtsithurts.Kristenledtheway,shufflingbackward,glancingoverhershoulderlikesomeonebeingfollowed.Myarmsgaveoutaquarterofthewayup—herstoo,theadrenalineunabletocounterhisweight—andwesethimdownandshookoutourwrists.Itwasaneternity,perhapsthirtyyardsbutthelongesthikeofmylife,mywholebodypulsingwithpain,agiantbeesting.KristenandIwereunabletofindarhythmaswerushedandstoppedshort,likefriendshaulingasofaupthestairs.Whenwereachedtheboulder,weweresoeagerandexhaustedthatwewobbledandtrippedandnearlydroppedhim.
“Quickly,now.”Ihelpedherlifttheshowercurtainandtipitscontentsintothepit;wescatteredtheclothesaround,crammingthemintothegrave’sdeepestedges.ShepickedupashovelandIsnatchedminefromthegrave’sedge.Thispartwasevenworse,myonlythoughtascreeching,loopingow.Wegroanedasweburiedhim,ourcriescarnalandpatheticaswepushedourbatteredbodiestocooperate.Whenwe’dfinished,shesmoothedthedirtwiththebackofherspade.Itwasagentlycurvedmoundnow,abumpinthenight.
Wehurrieddownthemountainastheedgeoftheskyturnedcerulean.Neartheroadwepickedupbranchesandrushedbackuptotherock,sweepingatourscuffsandskids.
Wetumbledintothecarandslammedthedoors.ForamomentKristenclosedhereyes,hercrowntippedagainsttheheadrest.
“Doyouthinkit’lllookweirdinthelight?”Ipeeredoutthewindow.“Willthedirtbeanothercolorwherewesweptit?”
Shewasquietforaverylongtime.“Idon’tknowwhattotellyou,Emily.There’snothingelsewecando.”Herhandshotoutandturnedontheignition,andthenwebeganthelongdriveback.
ThecarfeltsomuchlighterwithoutPaolointhetrunk.
CHAPTER9
Itwasalmostsix,theskybrighteningwithalarmingspeed.Wepassedthreevehiclesalongtheway,headlightslikeeyesintheearly-morningmurk:atruck,asedan,andapickuppullingatrailerwithfourmenintheback,handkerchiefsclutchedtotheirnoses.EachtimeIstareddownatmylap,willingustobeforgettable.Finallyweturnedintoourtinyparkinglot.Itwasstillcoldout,butmistiernow,sothedampnesshadabite.Inthepurgatoriallightofpredawn,wecarriedtheshovelsbackuptotheshed.Kristengraspedmyshoulderwhenawindowlitupnearby(inanotherguesthouse,Ithink?),butitdarkenedafterafewsecondsandIwentbacktoscrewingthelockintoplace.
Dewglistenedontheslidingdoorasweslippedbackinsideoursuite.Withastab,Ipicturedhimthereagain:calvespokingoutfrombehindthesofa,thewinebottlesmearedredbutotherwiseunharmed,havingwonthedurabilitycontestagainstPaolo’sskull.IthadtobeOneofThoseThings—acentimeterup,down,ortothesideandhecould’vebeenfine.
IlookedoveratKristenandfeltawashofcompassion.Shewasstillbeingsostrong—strongerthanI’dbeeninCambodia,certainly—andithadonlybeenafewhourssincePaolohadthreatenedherlife.
“Helpmefinishcleaning.”Kristenrummagedinthekitchenette,thenheldoutadishtowel.Weransackedtheroomsforcleaningproductsand,findingnone,pooledourresources:makeupremover,handwipes,soap,Purell.Thedaycrackedopenlikeanegg,sunlightnosingagainstthewindowsandthenpushinginsidewithsuddenvigor.Weswipedandswabbedanddusted,silentandfocusedinourownpersonalhells.Iscrubbedtheshowercurtaininthetub,bodygelfoamingbrownandredonthecolorfulplastic,thenstrungitbackup.Wasitenough?Couldwereallyexpecttoleavenotracewhenwelackedevenpropercleaningproducts?
Wetouchedalightertocrumplesofnewspaperwe’dpiledinthefireplace.Oncekindlingandthenafewlogspoppedandroared,IaddedPaolo’sthingsonebyone:passport,journal,wallet,phone.Icoughedastheycurledintoastinkingmass;Kristenopenedawindowandfannedoutthefoul-smellingsmoke.WhenPaolo’seffectswereablackishchunk,Ipouredwateronit.
“I’lltakeit,”Kristenannouncedafterthelumpstoppedsizzling.Shewrappeditinnewspaperandstuffeditinsideanemptychipbag.“I’lltossitwhenIgethome.”
—
NORMALCY—WEHADTOmaintainit,hadtoloadoursuitcasesintothetrunkandthentrudgetothelobbyforbreakfast.Afterall,we’dmadeittobreakfasteverymorningandtheownerwassoproudofit,theirdesayunodelicioso,andthelastthingwewantedwasanyonewonderingwherewewere.Therewestaredatbasketsofrollsandcolorfulfruitplatesinquietrevulsion.Westoppedatthefrontdesktoturnoverthekey(they’dbeenveryclearaboutthisatcheck-in,donotleavethekeyintheroom),andIsuddenlyrealizedeveryonewasstaringatme,theonlypossibletranslator.
“?Cómo?”Iprompted,toooutofittorecallthepolitewaytoaskhertorepeatherself.
“?Cómoestuvosuestadíaconnosotros?”sheasked,toofastandtoomumbly,andIblinkedatherforalongtimebeforethewordsunstuckthemselves.Howwasourstay?Fine—thesuite’sromanticwood-burningstovesurehadcomeinhandywhenwehadevidencetodestroy.
“Muybien.”Iforcedasmile.“Graciasportodo.”
—
ITWASAsix-hourdrivebacktotheSantiagoairport,outtotheseaandthensouthbetweenthemountainsandthewater.Monotonousandbrown,asuglyoutsideasthemuckIfeltcoveringmybreastandbrain,horroranddisbeliefclottingbeneathmyribcageandskull.We’ddriventheoppositedirectionthismorning—wasthatjustthismorning,withallthatdeadweightinthetrunk?Still,Ifoundmyselfscanningthehills,watchingforourfootprints,probablysmearedawaybutpossiblymoreobviousthaneverafteroursweeping—likeagiantarrowfromtheroadtothegrave.Iwassosorethatraisingmyhandtoslideonsunglasseshurt.Shattered:Thewordlodgedinmyhead,askippingrecord.That’showIfelt.Mybody,mylife.Paolo’sfragileeggshellskull.
Alookoutpointappeared,andKristenswervedintoitandthrewthecarintopark.Shestaredstraightahead.Then,rightasIwasabouttopuncturethesilence,hereyeswenthardandsheletoutascream.Notascream—aroar,thewayalittlekidanswerswhenyouaskwhatsoundalionmakes.Itechoedaroundthecar,buzzedinmyears,thenstopped.Shepunctuateditwithasinglesurprisedlaugh.Thensheturnedtome,asifshe’donlyjustrememberedIwasthere.
Withajolt,Iheavedopenthecardooranddashedtotheedgeofthecliff.Nothingbuttawnymountains,reddishinthemorninglight,asfarastheeyecouldsee.Awailpouredoutofme,mournfulandlowbutpowerful,too,untilIsqueezedtheairfromthebottomofmylungsandsputteredtoastop.Kristenappearednexttomeandpuffedherchest,andtogetherweroared,ourscreamssomehowinharmony,withthesameuncannyintensityasagroupominyogaclass.WelistenedtotheechoandIpicturedthesoundwavesrattlingthecellsofarmadillosandvicu?asandPatagonianpumasmilesfromthisplace.
Asifwe’dtriggeredit,theskybruisedoverandspatatus,atfirstadrizzleandthenasteadytap.
Kristensmiledforthefirsttimesincelastnight.
“It’llwashawayanysignthatwewereeveronthemountain,”shesaid.
Ormaybeit’llwashawaythedirtweusedtocoverhim.Iliftedmyfacetotherain,thengotbackinthecar.Shegavemyshoulderasqueezebeforeturningontheignitionandpullingbackontotheroad.Outside,thedropstickledrowsofbushyvegetablesandmoss-coloredshrubs.Iwatchedrainwaterspilltogether,abrownishveinworkingitswaydownhill.
Ibreatheddeeply.Ichosetobelieveher.
Maybewewereneverhere.
CHAPTER10
Attheairport,KristenandIwerealmostsilent,movinglikeautomatonsaswereturnedtherentalcar.Therewasn’taninspection;wejusthadtopushthekeysthroughaslot.Icheckedagainforanydirtinthebackseatorruby-coloredspecklesinthetrunk.Isearchedandsearchedandsearched,feelingtheanxietylikeanitchinthecornerofmymind.Willtheycatchus?
Inalong,twistysecurityline,KristenstaredoffintospaceandItookherin,stillbeautifuldespitethesleepdeprivation,hertawnyhairpiledinamessytopbun,hercontactsswappedwithwire-framedglassesoverherhighcheekbones,somehowlookinglikeaHotGirlinGlassesandnotabespectacledwoman.AkeydistinctionIcouldneverputmyfingeron.
“OhmyGod.”Justaboveherjawlinewasadriedspeckofblood.Paolo’sblood.Ilickedmythumbandswipedatit,andshebattedmeaway.
“It’samole,Emily,”shesnapped,coveringhercheek.“Whatiswrongwithyou?”
Everything.Everythingfeltwrong.Thesorenesswassteppingintotaketheacutepain’splace,andevenreachingforKristen’sfacehadleftmyarmtwinging.“I…Ithoughtitwas…nevermind.”We’dbothtakenquickshowersbeforebreakfast,scrubbingatthedirtandsweat.Ofcoursetherewasn’tstillbloodonKristen’sface.
Thiswilldestroyher.MyheartdroppedandIturnedaway,blinkingbacktears.Shedidn’tknowityet—shewasstillactingtough,keepingittogether—buttheattackwouldpoisonherpsyche,asSebastian’sattackhadmine.Myemotionsswirled,fearanddismayanddeep,bone-achingexhaustion,butthisthoughtpiercedthrough,aboltoflightninginthestorm:Mystrongandbeautifulbestfriendwasabouttobebroken.Corneredandbatteredandnewlyawareofhervulnerability,herfearlessnesspoppedlikeaballoon.Inarrowedmyeyes.Screwyou,Paolo.
Becausehehadn’tjusthurtKristen.He’dstolensomethingelse—sweptinrightwhenIfeltlikemyselfagain.WhenthingsbetweenKristenandmefeltwarmandsafeandright.AfterthehideousnessofCambodia,thistripwasdeepeningourfriendship,makingitlikethatnightwithSebastianhadneverhappened.
Butnow…well,howcouldIeverlookatherwithoutseeingthewideninggrave,thepassportfloppinginthefirelikealivingthing,Paolo’sbloodfrecklingherthroat?Howcouldeitherofuscarryonunderthecrushofwaitingtobecaught?
Kristen,who’driskherlifeforherfriends.Kristen,who’dcookedlemon-chickensoupandletmesleepinherbedincollegewhenIwasnewlysingleandaloneintheworld.Kristen,whoputmebacktogetherlikeapuzzle,whorackeduphoursandhoursonthephonewithmeafterCambodiauntilIcouldfinallyunzipmysleepingbagofterrorandtiptoebackintotheworld,hadhadtheunthinkablehappentoher.I’dbeenthroughitbefore—withSebastian,withBen—butnowsheknewhowitfelttobepunishedforseeingtheworldassafeandkindandyours
Wecollectedourbagsandenteredanotherlineforpassportcontrol.Heremyheartratespiked—they’dseeitonourfaces;they’dknow.
“Whatwasthepurposeofyourvisit?”askedthehandsomeChileanborder-controlofficer,thoughI’dalreadymarkedtheform.
Ichokedontheword:“Pleasure.”
Heflippedpastseveralblankpagestostampmypassporttowardtheback.“Haveasafeflight.”
Aquietmomentinabadcoffeeshop,andthenitwastimetopart.Kristenhuggedmetight,thenheldmeout,handsstillonmyshoulders,lookingdeepintomyeyes.Iwonderedifthiswouldbeourlasttrip—noMoroccoorGeorgiaorTurkey.Ifthenightbeforehadbulldozedourwanderlustindefinitely.
“Iloveyou,”shesaid,loweringherchin.“Letmeknowwhenyougethome,okay?”
“Loveyoutoo,”Imurmured,andsheshudderedabitasshenodded.Thensheletmego,turnedonherheel,andwalkedoffwithoutlookingback.Iwasrelieved,thenintenselysadwewerepartingonthatnote,onmyeagernesstoletthisnightmareend.IwishedIcouldcrawlbackintolastnight,beforeanythingwentwrong,whenwewerepointingatstarsandcrunchingoncornnutsandfeelingtheworldwasourplayground.
—
ITWASAten-hourflighttoAtlantaand,inthesecond-to-lastrow,mybodythrobbedthroughalltenofthem.Itfeltright,likemyhorrorandguiltandsadnesshadtakenphysicalform,sweptthroughmymuscles,bristledmynerveendings,turnedmytendonstaut.God,ithurt.HaditbeenthisbadafterCambodia?No—I’dbeensonumbfrombeingattackedmyselfthatmybrainhadn’tletmefeelit,thesoreness,themisery.Kristen’sbodymusthavefeltthenlikeminedidnow,allagonyandaches.Shenevermentionedit.God,whataselflessfriendshewas,thecrosshairsofherattentionsquaredonme,mypain,myflailingattemptstocope
Afterashorteternity,weslammedontothetarmacandIrushedtocheckthenews:stillnothingaboutamissingbackpacker.Butthatcouldchangeatanymoment.Thiswasmylifenow,foreverwaitingfornotonebuttwoshoestodrop.
Ishuffleduptheaisle,takinginthemesswe’dmadeoftheplane.Onehundredandfiftyfeetofbedlam,ofanaircraftinshamblesasweambledawayfromourtitanictin-cantrashcan.Blanketsmattedandcrumpled,limpgreensanderrantcherrytomatoesmashedintotheaisles,trashsplatteredlikestreetartovereveryavailablesurface.We’realldisgusting,everysingleoneofus.Makingmessesandthenwanderingaway.
ExceptthatPaolopaidforhissinswithhislife.WhatwasthisstupidvoicerushingtopityPaolo,abadman,awould-berapist?BeforeIcouldstopit,Ipicturedhislifelesslegs,theskincoolandknobby,slidingoverbonesandtendonsaswerolledhimontotheshowercurtain.Wasthereagirlfriendhewascheatingonbackhome?Afriendsomewhereelseontheglobeplanningtoseehimafewmonthsfromnow,wonderingwhyPaolowasneveronWhatsAppanymore?
IshovedthethoughtsasideasIwaitedforpassportcontrol.WELCOMETOAMERICA,abannerscreamed.Onemoreflighttogo,butI’ddoneit—I’dmadeitoutofChile.Icouldn’tbelieveit,keptwaitingtoblinkawakeanddiscoverIwasstillintheSantiagoairport,feelingmyheartbeatinginmyfingertips.
Atmygate,Isatinawornfabricchairandpeeledopenagranolabar;ittastedlikesand.Mymindkeptreturningtothesuddendesertrain,thewayyourtonguewantstopushagainstatoothache.Itwouldn’texposeourshallowgrave,wouldit?NoonenoticedPaolochattingwithusonthepatiolastnight,didthey?Thetwoshiny-hairedBritishgirls,thebartenderwhosawmefreakingoutaboutmymissingwallet…hadwemadeanimpressiononanyofthem?Thelightblaringoninawindowaswesealedtheflashlightsandshovelsbackintheshed—thatwasacoincidence,notawitness,right?Hadwecleanedthefloorofthesuitethoroughlyenough?We’donlyseenitinthehazymorninglight—whatifthemiddaysunwaslikeaspotlightonbroadbloodstainswe’dmissed?
MyphonebuzzedandIblinkedatthetextforaminutebeforeitmadesense.Aaron,sweetlyrememberingmyreturndate:“Safetravelstoday!Remindmewhenyougetback?”
Discomfortbuzzedinmyhandsandfeet.Thedesiretoseehim,tokisshim,wasvisceralandthick,but…butwhatnow?I’dalwayshadtroublebeingvulnerablewithguys:unwillingtoletmyselfgetexcitedaboutthem,or—ontherareoccasionsIdidfallhard—bracedforthingstofallapart.Andnow?HowcouldIpossiblyopenupandberealwiththismassivesecretencirclingmelikeamoat?Sure,I’dkeptCambodiafromhim,butbythetimewestarteddatingtheattackwasinthepast,thescartissuegnarledanddelicatebutthere,atopawoundIdidn’twanttotalkabout.Keepingthis—thisfreshtrauma,thisclearandpresentterror—fromhimfeltdifferent.
AaronthoughtIwasjustyouraverageMidwesterngal,gentleandsweet.CouldIreallylookhimintheeyeandpretendeverythingwasnormalnow?IhadfinallyemergedfromthenightmaresandpanicattacksofCambodia—andnowPaolohadopenedatrapdoorandspilledmebackatsquareone.Iwasangry,anditwasuncomfortable.Nicegirlsdon’twalkaroundwithangerbrewingintheirchest.Withbloodontheirpalmsanddirtundertheirnailsfromparticipatingintheirownlate-nighthorrorstory.
Aroundme,everyonewastooloud,toorambunctious—kidsscreechedandclimbed,peoplebrayedintotheirphones,teenagersgiggled,amomyelled.Ascreenwasblastingthenews,withnoonewatchingit:wildfiresintheAmazon,adronestrikeinSyria.I’dheardoncethatTVnewshitsairportsonadelay,sotheycancutthestreamifastoryinvolvesahijackedplaneoranactiveshooterinaterminal.Editthefeedtolimitmasshysteria.Maybesomethingwashappeningintheairrightnow.
Editthefeedtolimitmasshysteria.WasthissomethingIcoulddo,forinternalhysteria?Somehowsnipoutthememories,oneyearapart,thatthreatenedtosendmyworldtumblingdown?Iwishedtherewereaprocedure,EternalSunshine–style,toerasetheevents’fingerprintsonmybrain.MaybeIcouldlearntocompartmentalize.Pretendeverythingwasfinearoundmyco-workers,myfriends.OndateswithAaron.Christ,Isobadlywantedtobenormalaroundhim,tojokewithhimandholdhimandkisshimand,yes,havesexwithhimlikearegularperson—notthebroken,guarded,secretivewomanI’dbecome.Doublysonow.MystomachtightenedandIunlockedmyphone.
“Heyyou!Landingaround5soit’llbeashorteternitygettinghomeintraffic,”Iwrote.“How’sitgoing?”
Normalcy—wehadtomaintainit,hadtobehavelikenothingwaswrong.LikeIhadn’tpusheddirtontopofagoddamnbodyinnorthernChile.
Hestartedtypingbackrightaway.“Good!Excitedtohearallaboutyourtrip.Haveagreatflight!”
Ishotbackprayer-handsandasmileyfaceanddroppedmyphoneintomybag.Imashedmyhandsagainstmyeyesockets,whereaheadacheroaredunderneath.
Apreteensoccerteamjostledintothewaitingarea.OnegotoutaballandIstaredstupidlyasitrolledpastmyfoot.Finallytheircoachyelledatthemtosettledown,andtheysatinalargering,blockingtheflowoftrafficandplayingsomesortofcardgame.
Thatdamnvoiceagain:HadPaoloplayedsoccergrowingup??Fútbol?Whenwouldhismothernoticehewasmissing?Hisfriends?DidhehaveaticketbacktoSpain,aone-wayflightcappinghisyearofwanderlust?
No.Paolodidn’tdeservemyremorse.PaolowasnodifferentfromSebastian:abadguy,onewhosespecterhauntedmeondarkstreetcorners,andIwasn’tsadtoknowhewasnolongeraround.Sebastianhadleftmewithbruisesandscrapes—plusechoingfear,ageyserofterrorIcouldn’tworkthroughordiscuss.Myheartsank.Kristenhadnoideawhatshewasinfor.
Itwasashortflightinawindowseatthatshowednothingbutablanketofgraycloudsbelow.ThemannexttomejabbedmyelbowcleanoffthearmrestandIwrappedmyarmstightaroundmychest.Whenwebeganourinitialdescent,myearspoppingwithfaintfizzysounds,Icouldhaveweptwithjoy.Almosthome
Ihobbledofftheplaneandtowardtheexit,pastsouvenirshopssellingcheeseheadsandT-shirtswithMilwaukee-centricslogans:THEGOODLANDandDRINKWISCONSINBLYandWHOLESOMEMIDWESTERNGIRL.Ugh.AaronwascallingandIsilenceditasIjammedmywaythroughthebaggageclaim.ThenIheardmynamebehindmeandtwistedaround.
Myheartfroze.Paolowaslopingtowardme,gaininggroundasheweavedaroundluggagecartsandbloatsofpeople.Hefollowedme.
HedisappearedbehindapileofsuitcasesandIwatchedinterror,waitingforhimtoemergefromtheotherside.Aflashofdarkhairandskin,andthenhelookedatmehead-on.
Reliefpulsedthroughme,butthenmystomachdropped.
Itwasn’tPaolo.
ItwasAaron.
CHAPTER11
Iscoopedupallmyremainingenergyandtrainedasmileonhim.Theactmademewanttoburstintotears—thatitwasfake,difficult,exhausting.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iasked.
“IthoughtI’dsurpriseyou,”heannounced.“IwasalreadyinJeffersonPark.Ifigured,whodoesn’tlikegettingaridefromtheairport?”
Istretchedmysmilewider.“Thatissosweetandsounnecessary.Thankyou.”
“Don’tmentionit.Mycaristhisway.”
Hegrabbedthehandleofmysuitcaseandsetoff.Itookinhisrumpledbrownhair,hisplastic-framedglasses,histhinlipscurvedintoacrookedsmile.HewascuterthanIremembered,moreangular,asiftheweekawayhadsandedtheedgesoffmymentalimageofhim.Ifeltaruffleinmybelly:butterfliesattemptingtostir,tampeddownbytheeventsofthelasttwenty-fourhours.
“Sohowwasyourflight?”
“Oh,fine—thefirstonewasdelayedbutIhadalonglayoveranyway,so.”
Weapproachedanelevatorandhehitthecallbutton.“I’mdyingtohearallaboutChile.Butjustapreview.You’vegottabedeadtired—I’lltakeyoustraighthome,don’tyouworry.”
“Oh,thankGod.”Iclappedapalmovermymouthandhechuckled.“Sorry,I’msooutofit.Ididn’tsleeponeitherplane.”
Theelevatordoorsopenedandweshuffledin.“Areyousore?You’rewalkingkindafunny.”
“Right.We…wentforatoughhike.TurnsoutI’moutofshape.”MysludgybrainshortedoutasIstaredatourmurkyreflectionsinthebrushed-metaldoor.Ilookedlikeshit—greasyskin,puffyeyes,myhairamess—butIwastootiredtocare.Tootiredtopanictoo;Ijustwantedtocry.AaronwantstohearaboutChile:Itwasaninternalwail,apreschooleronthevergeofameltdown.
Hegrabbedmyhandandsmiledatmyfingertips.“Musthavebeenahellofahike—you’vestillgotdirtunderyournails!”Itriedtotwistawaybutheflippedmyhandover,wherefreshblistersdottedmypalm.“Damn!Whatkindofpathwereyouon?”
Myheartpounded;asthmaclawedatmylungs.Iwasabanged-upmess,dirtyandbruisedfromourall-nighteronthemountainside.Iyankedmyfistbackastheelevatordoorsopened.“Um,therewassomerock-scrambling,yeah.Idefinitelyshouldhaveworngloves.I’mgonnabesoreforawhile.”
Aaronglidedaheadwithmysuitcase.“Idigagoodrockscramble.Ihavesomanyquestions.Whatwasyourfavoritepartofthetrip?Bestthingyouate,coolestthingyoudid?Weirdestthingyousaw?Oh,it’sthisway.”Asuddenswervetotheleft.
TheweirdestthingIsaw:awinebottlesplatteredred,asiftheliquidinsidehadseepedtothesurface.Adentedhead,bloodgrowingtackyonthefloor.Thejumbocanvasbackpackwithlegsatthebottom,hairyandbrawnyandstill.
“I’m—God,I’msorry,I’msotiredIcanbarelyformsentences.”
“Naw,Itotallygetit!”Hehitabuttonandhiscarbloopedandblinked.Heheavedmysuitcaseintothetrunkandskiddedaroundtoopenthepassenger-sidedoor.Lord,hewastakingsuchgoodcareofme,asifIwereworthit—hiskindnessmadediscomfortyawnopeninsideme.
“Ibroughtyouacroissantfromtheshop,”hesaid,slidingintohisseat.“Shouldbebyyourfeet.Andthere’swaterinthedoor.”
“Wow.Thankyou,Aaron.”Itriedtolowermyselfincarefully,butmyquadsgaveoutandIdroppedtotheseatinafreefall.Ipluckedahunkfromthepastryandshoveditintomymouth,butmytonguestillfeltasdryasthedirtwe’dcarvedupwithourshovels.
Benhadbehavedlikethiswhenwe’dfirstbegundating;wewerehighschoolersthen,raisedonMidwesternpoliteness,andhestoodoutfromthehootingmassesbyholdingthedoorformeandpayingforbrimmingwaffleconesatafancyice-creamshop.IabsolutelyowedittoAarontobegrateful,polite,charming.InsteadIwantedtocurlupinaballandsleepforthreetofivedays,atminimum.
Hethrewthecarintoreverse.“SoChiletotallywipedyouout?Youhadfunwith,ah…Kristen?”
“Goodmemory!”Iswallowed.Ipicturedherintheairrightnow,lockedinsideherownsorebody.“Yeah,justlotsof…runningaround.”Thesidesofmymouthfeltliketheyhadboulderspullingthemdown,butIliftedthem.“Idon’twantyoutothinkI’mnothappytoseeyou.”
“Butyou’llbehappiertoseeyourbed.Let’sdothis.”Hestabbedabuttononthedashboardandthespeakersleakedclassicalmusic.“GoogleMapssaysit’stwenty-fiveminutestotheFifthWard.I’llwakeyouwhenwe’reclose.Deal?”
“You’retoogoodtome,”Imurmured,andImeantit.IthoughtIwouldn’tbeabletosleep,butwithinminutes,Iwasout.
—
INMYDRIVEWAYIthankedAaronandgavehimapeckgoodbye,thenstaggeredtowardthefrontdoorlikeacastawayapproachingshore.Icould’vedroppedtomyknees,kissedthewelcomemat.InsteadIfumbledinmypurseandbackpack,unsurewhereI’dstashedmykeys.
Inside,Iloweredtheblindsagainsttheafternoonlightandwasabouttoflickoffmylampwhenmyphonerattledonthenightstand.
Kristen.Hernamemademyhearttickup—wassheokay?Didsheneedmyhelp?Isquintedathertext:“Landed!Youmadeit?”
“Justgothome!Passingoutnow,”Iwroteback.Ipressedmylipstogether,thenadded,“Howareyoudoing???”
Whenhertextcamethrough,Ialmostdroppedmyphone:
“Great!Amazingtrip.Missyoualready.xoxo”
Whattriphadshebeenon?Butthen,asthegoosebumpswerestillmakingtheirsweepupmysoreneckandshoulders,ithitme:Shewasestablishingapapertrail,maintainingnormalcy.MakingitcleartoanyonelisteninginthatallwaswellintheJourneysofKristenandEmily.Ensuringwelookedinnocent.Thetextwasaclevermove,butitleftmeunabletonap.
InsteadIstaredattheceilingandcatalogedthedetailsthatwoulddousin.Eachonehitmelikeablastofcold,brightasalemon,astrobelight’ssuddenburst:thecrowdedpatiobar,theblack-hairedBritishwomenwiththeirhugebackpacksandwidesmiles,thebloodonthesuitefloor,thelit-upwindownearthestorageshed,thetorrentialrainonourpatheticmound…thereweretoomanygambles,toomanyloosethreadstotrustthattheFateswouldblessusasecondtime.
Asecondtime.Whatthehell?
I’ddonethisafterPhnomPenh,too,replayingourcoverupoperationinmymindandtensingeverytimemyphonerang,everytimeIrefreshedthenews.NowIsilentlythumbedthroughthosedamningbitsofevidence.TheflashasSebastianandIleftthebar—someonewouldseethephoto,knowIhadsomethingtodowithhisdisappearance.OrthebodywouldbreakfreefromthestonesandbobuptoTonleKak’sburblingsurface.
LastyearIalsoreckonedwiththetraumaofseeingbloodgushfromSebastian’shead:Stop.Stop.Stop.AndthesurrealgruesomenessofditchingSebastian’sbody—inmymilkymemories,horrorblippedoutofthenumbnesslikeavoicethroughradiostatic.Myhandshaddetachedfrommybody,reducedayoungmantoaninconvenientbundle.Thatreallyhappened.Iknewitwashimorme,thatwewerechoosingthebestworstoptiontokeepourselvesaliveandsafeandfree,butthatprimalhorrorstayedstampedonmypsyche.
Andaboveitall,likeadronewhirringoveracrowd,louderthanaswarmofbees:AfterCambodia,Icouldn’tstopreplayingtheterroroftheattack.EvenbackinWisconsin,IfeltSebastian’sroughpalmsmashedagainstmyface.Isawhiscleareyes,blueandfurious.ThewholepointofKristen’splanwastopreserveourfreedom,butIfeltcagedandbruised,likehe’dstolenmyjoy.AfterPhnomPenh,Iwasashellofahuman,waiting,beggingforanhourwhenIfeltlikemyoldselfagain.
Kristenhadtakenmeonasanunpaidfull-timejob—listeningtomesob,distractingmewithmeanderingstories.Finally,mercifully,amomentofreliefhadcomefiveorsixweekslater,whenthetwoofuswereseveralseasonsdeepintoasharedrewatchofBuffytheVampireSlayer.Whentheshowtriggeredafunnyhigh-schoolmemory,I’dcaughtmyselfmidsentencewithajolt:Justnow,youweren’tthinkingaboutTheThing.Itwasfleetingbuthopeful—ifwecouldsomehowevadenoticeandthoseperiodsbetweenpaniccouldlengthenlikeshadowsintheafternoon,maybesomedayI’dbeokay.
AndnowIhadtostartthatwholeawfulprocessagain,fromsquareone?
Withshakinghands,Itextedherback:“Missyoutoo.”
EventuallyIfellintoarestless,jaggedsleep,wokeinthedark,andthenlayawaketherestofthenight.
—
KIBBLE’SOFFICEWASinaskinnyturn-of-the-centurytoweronRogersStreet,withanancient,creakingelevatorandanancient,creakingsecurityguywhoneverlookedupfromthefrontdeskaspeoplecameandwent,evenasIsaidhellotwiceaday.Theworkspacelackedthetechie,technicolorflairIassociatedwithstart-ups;insteaditwasabeehiveofolddesksallfacingthesameway,partitionedoffbyuglygraycubiclewalls.Still,therewasicedcoffeeontapinthekitchenandfloor-to-ceilingwindowsandparquetfloorsthatmadecoordinatingsupplychainsandlaunchinglinesforfelineurinarycare…ifnotpleasant,certainlytolerable.Andtherewasademocraticfeelamongthetwenty-oddemployees.ThesoleKibbleworkerwithanofficewasRussell,thefounderandCEO,whowasonlyacoupleyearsolderthanme.
NormallyIdidn’tmindcomingtoworkafteratrip—Ilookedforwardtoit,even.ButasIrodetheelevatoruponmyfirstdayback,dreadballoonedinmytorso.I’dthoughtaboutcallingKristenbeforework,butitwasthemiddleofthenightinSydney.HowwouldIgetthroughtodaywithoutherquietempathy,herreassuringconfidence?And,jeez,howcouldIexpecthertobethereformewhenshewastheonewho’dbeenattacked?Shedeservedafriendshecouldcounton,thewayI’dleanedonherafterCambodia.
Astheelevatordoorsslidopen,Ipaled.HowwasIsupposedtositatmyscratcheddeskandpokeatspreadsheetswhenPaolo’sbodywasjust…there,decayingunderathinlayerofdirt,waitingforsomeonetofindhim?
“Welcomehome!”Priyaboundedover,ponytailshaking,andwrappedmeinahug.“Iamsogladyou’reback.”
Ispreadasmileacrossmyfacelikefrosting.PriyaandIhadmetacoupleyearsago,volunteeringatafundraiserforanearbyanimalrescue;thoughmylandlorddidn’tallowpets,Ilovedoglingtheshelter’sadorableInstagramanddecidedtohelpoutataone-dayevent.Anorganizerhadpairedusoffinthemorning,andbylunchtime,wewerefriends.She’dbeentheonetotellmeaboutthejobopeninghere—shewasKibble’scopywriter.
“Imissedyou!”Itoldher.“AndIbroughtyousomething.”Aminiaturebottleofpiscoclinkedinmypurse.
“Wasitamazing?Itwasamazing,right?”Sheaccompaniedmetomydesk.
Iwidenedmysmile.Iwantedtocry.Dayslater,thesorenessfromdragginganddiggingstillhadn’tletupitshold,anditmatchedthefeelinginmychest:painbothbroadandsharp.“Itwasunforgettable,”Imanaged,“butI’mgladtobehome.”
—
ICOULDN’TSTOPporingoverthenews.IfeltajolteverytimeIrefreshedCNN,likewhenyouturnonmusicwiththevolumewaytoohigh.Iscrolledandscrolledinsearchofanymentionofamissingperson.IknewIcouldn’tgoogleit,noteveninprivate-browsingmode,becauselastyearKristenhadhissedthatthefunctionwasn’tsecure—anyonewithyourIPaddresscouldstilltrackyoudown.
Butnothinghappened.Co-workersbreezedbymydesktoaskaboutChile,butasisalwaysthecasewithvacationrecaps,theyweren’tallthatinterested.Therewasane-commercerelaunchtojumpbackinto.Icouldonlydevotemaybe20percentofmyattentiontodrawingupproductionschedulesandfutzingwithbudgets,butthatwas20percentonanythingotherthanPaolo.
Hashisfamilynoticedhe’smissingyet?Hasanyoneraisedthealarm?
—
THATNIGHTIdreamedthatKristenandIwerebackatNorthwestern,duringthesummerbeforesenioryearwhenwestayedintownandsubletabanged-upapartmentonClark.Inthedream—asinmymemories—weweresittingonthelakefill,gazingoutattheblackwaterandgrowingexcitedastheskyturnedindigoandthestarsbegantofade.Wesaidnothing,justwatchedinaweasthesunnudgedthroughthewateryhorizon.SunriseoverLakeMichigan—weonlymanagedtostayupforitthreetimesduringourtenurethere,butitwasalwaysspecial,private,ours
ThenIopenedmyeyes,andthemessed-uprealitycamecrashingin.
Ireachedformyphone—theinstincttotalktoKristenwasanitch,loopingandloud,likewhenwelayinourtentinUgandaandfeltthethrobofdozensoftsetse-flybites.PaoloconsumedmythoughtsandIcravedarelease,thechancetodiscussittodeath.Doyoustillthinkwe’reokay?Isthereanythingweforgot?Canyoubelievethatallhappened??Butofcourse,Icouldn’tsayanyofthat—Kristenwouldn’tletusincriminateourselvesoverthephone.Ifeltthesecretpushingoutofme,blowinguplikeabubbleandrisinginmythroat.
Anotherdayofwork.SomehowIsatthroughmeetingsandrepliedtoemailsandlistenedtogossipinthebreakroom.AaronandItextedthroughouttheday,thecasualbanterofthenewlydating,andIclungtothedopaminespurtIgoteverytimehisnameappearedonmylockscreen.IwaitedinlineforoverpricedburritobowlswithPriya,takinginherpatterofTinder-datestories.Allthewhilemyidthreatenedtocommandeermythroat,screamitaloud:Weburiedamansoakedinhisownblood.Itwouldn’tevenbethewholetruth.Onlyhalf,onebodyoftwo.
KristenandIscheduledacallfortheevening.BecarefulnottomentionTheThing,Emily,incaseanybody’slistening.MyheartpoundedasIsatonmycouch,earbudsin,waiting.
“Hey,Em!”Socheery.Andwhatwaswhininginthebackground?
“Hi.Areyououtside?”
“Yeah,I’mwalkingtowork.Isitsuperloud?”Thewindswelled,thenquieted;adistantcarhonked.
“Uh,it’sfine,Icanhearyou.”Therewassomethingtoocasualaboutit,hermultitaskingonourfirstpost-Chilecall.“Howareyoudoing?”
“Fine.Workisawful.I’mwishingwewerestillonvacationtogether.”
Ifrownedandsankintothepillowsbehindme.“I’msosorryworksucks.Buthowareyoudoing?”
“Allright.Solook,Iknowyousaidmaybewaitingayearwouldbebetterforbackpacking,butwhatifweplanitformysummer?Ifwestarttravelingrightaftertheholidays,you’llescapethehellholethatisMilwaukeeinthewinter,andwecouldevenkickthingsoffinSydney—Januaryisperfectsurfingweather.”
Iwasgladweweren’tonavideocall,becauseIcouldn’tkeeptheshockoffmyface.Shewasactingsocompletelyfine.IlovedKristen,wouldgiveanythingtobephysicallywithherrightnowasweprocessedourhorror.Butclearly,somethingaboutustogetherservedasabeaconforverybadthings.Thetwoofustravelingalonewereamagnetforviolence.Whywouldweriskitagain?And,hell,howcouldsheconsiderglobetrottingwhenshe’dbeenattackedjustdaysbefore?
“That’s…somethingtothinkabout,”Isaidcarefully.“Imissyouso,sohard.But…IneedalittletimebeforeI’llfeelreadytotravelagain.Doesthatmakesense?”
“Oh,that’sfine,”shesaid,tooquickly,andchangedthesubject.WechattedforafewminutesmoreaboutanythingotherthanPaolo,andthenshearrivedatheroffice.Ihungupconfusedandsad.
Andprofoundlyunsettled.
CHAPTER12
AaronandImadeplanstomeetatacozydivebarinhisneighborhood.Ifoundparkingonasidestreetandsteppedoutintothedark,instantlyremindedofMilwaukee’sreputationasapatchworkofsafeblocksandnot-so-safeonesafewyardsaway.TherewasamaninabaseballcapleaningonalamppostandIavertedmyeyesasIpassed.ButthenIheardfootstepsbehindmeandmyheartroared,barbedadrenalineshootingthroughmylimbs.Ipickedupthepaceanddartedacrossthestreet,thenstoleaglanceovermyshoulder.
Itwasnothing.He’dturneddownanotherroad.Justaguygoingabouthisbusiness,unawarethathe’dsetmynervoussystemonfire.
IthoughtbacktoasoliloquyI’dseenonTVaboutpainaswomen’sbirthright.It’snothardtocatalogthedazzlingtormentlifeputsusthrough:childbirthandmenstrualcrampsandthesuffocatingheatofmenopause.Wedoourbesttoavoidit,butmenruntowardit:warandwrestlingandfootballthatcrackstheirskulls,bruisesthefragilegraymatterunderneath.Theirbravadoisjustthemmanufacturingtheirownpain,tryingtoseemstrong.
Butfear—fearisatleastasstrongamotivatoraspain.MaybetheTVshowhaditwrong;maybemenaren’touttoexperiencepainsomuchasfear,theicyjoltoffeelingalive.Theycraveitbecausetheyhavenoideahowmiserableitistofeelthatfrigidblastahundredtimesaday.
Iheavedopenthebar’sdoor,gratefulforthebelchofwarm,beeryairthatenvelopedme.Ibreatheditinforamoment:peoplechattingandorderingPBRandmunchingoncheeseballsbrighterthanahighlighter.Studdingthewood-paneledwallswereneonbeersignsanddustyantlersandmountedfish,andIfeltI’dslippedthroughaportaltoasaferdimension.
Isearchedthefacesaroundthebarandthenheadedforthebackroom,whereafoosballtableandoldarcadegameshulkedbetweenscratchedwoodentables.
“Emily!”Aaronrosetokissmehello.Ilikedhowconfidentlyhedidit,likethatwashowwealwaysgreetedeachother.“Whatareyouhaving?”
HerushedofftogetmeadrinkandIpulledoutmyphone.KristenhadsentmeaphotofromwhatIassumedwasheroffice:itssweepingviewofSydney,theoperahousetwinklinginthedistance.“SureIcan’tconvinceyou?”she’dtexted,withawinkyface.Wetconcretetumbledinmybelly.
Ijumpedasaglassplonkedontothetableinfrontofme.“TheywereoutofSpottedCow,soIgotyousomethingcalledaBooyah.”Aarontouchedmyshoulder,thenslidontoachair.“Thebartendersaidit’ssimilar.Hey,whatisit?”
“It’snothing.Sorry.”
“Everythingokay?”
“ItwasKristen.”Ihesitated.“She’stryingtoconvincemetomeetherinSydneyforsixmonthsofbackpacking.”
“Really.”
“Yup.Iknowshemissesme.Plus,Ithinkshedoesn’tlikebeingsofarfrom…well,everyone.”
“Andhowareyoufeelingaboutit?”
Ipursedmylips.“Itoldherit’snotagoodtime.’Causeworkisgoingwelland,like,socially…”Igesturedatthetable,ourtwopintglassesstandingtall,thenblushed.Ididn’taddthethirdbigreason:KristenandItravelingtogetherkeptendinginbloodshed.“Butshekeepsaskingaboutit.”
“Ohman,Ididn’twanttoinfluenceyou,butdude.I’msorelieved.”Helaughedandswipeduphisbeer,andmystomachflipped.
“I’mgladyou’rerelieved.”Thewarmbubblesinmychestrose,cautiouslyhopeful.
Henodded,thinking.“Weirdshe’dtrytostealyouawayfromme.ButIguess,like,hoesbeforebros.”
“Whenshepitchedit,shedidn’texactly…knowaboutyou.Yet.”Myvoicewasslowandstretchy,atapeatthewrongspeed.
Hestartedtolaugh.“Andwhy’sthat?”
Iswallowed.“I’vegottenmyhopesupalotforthingstoturnintonothing.ItoldyouIhaven’tseenanyoneseriouslyinawhile—shit,notthatwe’reserious—Ijustmean…”
Hegrinnedatme,eyebrowshigh,waitingformore.
Inarush:“JustbecauseIdidn’twanttojinxit,youknow?There’snothingworsethantellingyourfriendsallexcitedlyaboutanewguyandthenhavingitfizzleout.Andthenthey’reaskingyouaboutitandyoufeelfoolish.”Well,theredefinitelywereafewworsethings.KristenandIknewallaboutthem.“Butanyway,thenIdidtellheraboutyou.Onourlastnight.Andshe’ssohappyforme!ButIguessshe’sprettystokedonherbackpackingidea.Can’tblameherfortrying,right?”
Hestretchedhisarmaroundmyshoulders.Mywholebodylitupundertheweight.“Gotit.Well,tellheryou’vegotaboyfriend.That’swhyyoudon’twanttomove.”
Icouldn’tkeepthesmileoffmyface.“Boyfriend,huh?”
“Kindafeelslikeit,right?”
Ilookedawaywhentheeyecontactgottoointense.“Itkindadoes.”
“Good.Justdon’tbecomeavagabondrightrightnow.Isuckatlong-distance.”
“Iwon’t.Butshe’shavingtroubletakingnoforananswer.Shecanbeintensewhenshewantsmetodosomethingwithher.Hell,she’sthereasonIhadsomuchfunatNorthwestern—Idefinitelywouldn’thave,like,goneskinny-dippinginLakeMichiganifitweren’tforher.”
Hiseyebrowslifted.“Now,thatissomethingI’msadImissed.”
“I’msure.”Isippedmybeer.“Ithinkshe’sjusthurting.I’mhavingahardtimebeingagoodfriend.”
“Hurtinghow?”
Kristeninourhotelsuite,Paolo’sbloodfrecklingherjaw:Heattackedme.
“Imean,she’slonely.Shehasfriendsthere,butnotabestfriend.Anyway,Iwannahearaboutyou!WhatdidImiss?Areyouworkingonanycoolprojects?”
“Oh,nothinginteresting.”Hishandslidfrommyshouldertothebackofmyneck.Hehitmewithasoft-focusstare,thenkissedme.Ithoughtmyheartwouldpoundrightoutofmychest—andforthefirsttimeinforever,itwasoutofelation,notfear.
Boyfriend.He’dcalledhimselfmyboyfriend.He’dclaimedmeashisgirlfriend.ForsolongI’dbeenafraidtohopeforit,andnowitwashappening,itwasreal,itwasbetterthanI’ddreamed.Isetmypalmonhissquared-offjawline,pressingintothestubblethere,andkissedhimback.
Ibrokeawayfirst,withashygiggle.“Hi,boyfriend,”Itried.
“?’Sup,girl,”hejokedback,thenthreadedhisfingersthroughmine.“Hey,tellmemoreaboutKristen.Ishouldknowmoreaboutmygirlfriend’sbestfriend.”
Mynervoussystemspedup,likesomeonehadturnedadial.“She’sthebest.Totallyboldandadventurous.”
“Ilikehowyoutwogetyourselvesintotroubletogetherallovertheglobe.”Heliftedourhandsandinspectedmynailsagain.“Stilldirty!Istillwanttohearaboutthisepichike.”
No.Alarmwashedthroughme,rinsingawaythewarmth.HowcouldIbeinaseriousrelationshipwhenIkeptlosingmyshit?
“Itwas,uh,kindofamess.Wegotlost,woundupfightingaboutit.Worstpartofthetrip,really.”Iquaffedatthesudsybeer.Myotherhand,stillinAaron’s,nowfeltclammyandcold.
“Whoa,allright.Wedon’thavetotalkaboutit.Whatelsehappenedonthetrip?”
Isetmyglassdown.“You’resosweettoask,butI’mkindasickofrehashingit.AndIcareaboutyourlife!What’snew?”
Heleanedbackeasily.“Workwise,thisbigpackage-designthingjustfellthrough.Theydecidedtofindsomeoneonthissitewhereartistsbidonwork.Cheapestlaborwins.”
“Yikes.Aren’tthosedesignersdevaluingtheworkforeveryone?”
Heshrugged.“Igetit,peopleneedtogetfoodonthetable.AndI’mlucky,I’vealwaysgotthecafé.”
“Man,nobodycanruffleyou,huh?”
Hegrinned.“Idon’tseethepointofthinkingeveryone’souttogetyou.”
LikeIdo.Paolo’sfamily,thedawningrealizationhewasn’twherehewassupposedtobe.Localcops,aninvestigationlaunched.
“Ilikehowyouseetheworld,”Itoldhim,andgulpedmybeer.
—
WHENTHEBARTENDERannounceditwaslastcall,AaronandIwalkedovertohisapartmenthandinhand.IwasdeterminedtokeepChiletuckedaway,outofsight,outofmind.Hisroommatewasn’thomesowedroppedontothecouchinthelivingroom,andhisrecordplayercloakedtherabbleofnoisybarpatronsstumblinghomebelowhiswindows.
Forafewminutes,itwasfine—exciting,fun,makingoutonthesofawiththatswirlyfeelingofmutualattraction.ButthenImovedtoclimbontohislapandmyhandfoundhisrougharm,andithitmelikeacymbalcrash:Paolo’sbicepcoldundermyfingers;Sebastian’ssinewybackaswedraggedhimuphill.Theywerereal—nightmaresincarnate,actsthat,thoughjustified,couldlandusinjail.
I’dstiffenedwithoutrealizingit,andAarontouchedmyshoulders.“Youallright?”
“Sorry—guessI’malittleonedge.”
“What’sup?”
Itwistedanddroppedontothecouchnexttohim.Ilongedtotellhim,toopenupaboutwhatwasreallywrong…butIcouldn’t.“Justkindainmyownhead.Iswearithasnothingtodowithyou.”
“Okay.Youwannatalkaboutit?”
ThensuddenlyIwascrying,tearsspillingdownmycheekswhileanotherpartofmebrokeoffandwatchedinhorror:Getittogether,Emily,beforeyouscareoffyournewboyfriend.“I’msorry!”Iblurtedout.“IknowI’mbeingweird.”
“No,it’sokay,”hereplied,buthiseyesregisteredbewilderment,alarm.Hedidn’texactlydenyit—Iwasbeingaweirdo.Hestoodandhurriedaway,andmyheartplummeted.Well,thathadn’ttakenlong.
“Here!”Hereemergedwithaboxoftissues,andonemadeazippingsoundasIyankeditfromthetop.“C’mere.It’sokay.”Hesatnexttomeandwrappedmeinhisarms.“What’sgoingon?”
I’dkilltobeabletotellhim—I’dgiveanythingtojustletitout.InsteadIreinedinthetearsandpulledaway.“I’msosorry.It’snotyouatall.Ishould…Ishouldactuallystartheadinghome,though.”
“Oh.Okay.”Helookedwounded.“CanIwalkyoutoyourcar?”
“No,thankssomuch,butI’mfine.”
ButassoonasIgotoutsideandturnedthecorner,Iregrettedmydecision.Theblockwasemptynow,blacknesspoolingbetweenthesallowstreetlights.Iwaswearingleatherbootswithstackedheels,whichproducedasteadyclop-clop-clopagainstthesidewalk.Itrompeddownthestreetunderathicketoftreebranches,theirbudsprotrudinglikegoosebumps,andmademyfootfallsasquietaspossible.Literallytiptoeingaround,tryingtogethomeunnoticed.SomethingmovedbehindmeandIgasped,butitwasjustashadowinthebeamoftheneareststreetlight,awomancrossingtheroadfifteenfeetaway.FinallyIflungmyselfintomycarandlockedthedoor.
Onthedrivehome,windingthroughdesertedcityroads,Ithoughtagainofmyfootsteps,thecursedclompofmyboot.Thegiveawaythatkeptmefromskulkingthroughthenight,unbothered.Theirony:I’dbeenthrilledwhenAaronnoticedme,andwhen,tonight,hecalledmehisgirlfriend.Butonthestreet,Itriedtocreeppastanyothermalegazes,ghostlike.That’swomanhood,Isuppose,bothcravingandfeelingrepulsedbyattention.
Andnotjustfrommen.Takemyparents—Iskimmedpastthemlikefloatersintheirvision,arefractionoflightintheretina.Itwasn’tuntilcollegethatIbegantoseetheirdisinterestforwhatitwas:emotionalneglect.Andyetadudeonthestreetmoaning,“Mm,goodmorning,”asIpassedcouldcurdlemystomach,sourmymood.Whichwasworse,beinginvisibleorbeingseen?Itwasexhausting:theego,thedesiretobenoticed—evenadmired—alwaysdilatingandcontracting,flappingopenandcrumplingclosed,overandoverandover.
WhatdidIlookliketoSebastianwhenhebackedmeagainstthewall,pinnedmeinplace?Ipulledintomydrivewayrightastheawfulhighlightreellooped:acrashoffuryandadrenalineasSebastian’sfleshyieldedbeneathmyteeth;Kristenwiththefloorlamp;Stop.Stop.Stop
Thesuddengivewhenhisbodyleftourarmsandtumbledtowardtheblue-graywaterbelow.
God,Iwasbroken.TearsprickedmyeyesonemoretimeasIclimbedtowardmyfrontdoor.
PoorAaron.
Hehadnoideawhathe’dsignedonfor.
CHAPTER13
“IfeellikeIshouldn’tbehere.”
AdrienneOderdonk,LMFT,wasinherlatefiftiesorso,withcurlygrayhairandkindbrowneyes.Anondescripttherapistinanondescriptbuildingwithpediatriciansandrealtorsanddentistsdottingthedirectorynearthefrontdoor.Shesmiledserenely.“Andwhy’sthat?”
“IguessI…gotthemessagethattherapyisfortheweak.”I’dgrownupwithnegativeknee-jerkreactionstoit,infact.When,fifteenyearsago,acousinhadswitchedcareerstogetherPsyD,mydadhadsneeredattheconceptoverbreakfast.
“Shrinksarecharlatans,”he’dsaid,asifdeemingwaterwet.Heshookopenhisnewspaperandturnedthepage.“Chargingtwohundredbucksanhourtolistentosuckerstalkabouttheirfeelings.Buthey,morepowertoher.”
“Doyouthinkit’sfortheweak?”Adrienneasked.
“Well,I’mherebecauseIthinkIshouldbestronger,soIguessthatconfirmsit.”Mylaughwaslikeabark.
“Let’strytokeep‘should’outoftheconversation.”
“Right.”Itookinthespiral-boundnotebookonthesidetablenexttoher,theclocktickingdownourfiftyminutestogether.Theboxoftissuesonthecoffeetable,anticipatingsnotandtears.
PriyahadrecommendedAdrienne,andI’dskulkedintoherwaitingroomlikeakidsenttotheprincipal’soffice.IfeltweirdaboutgoingtoatherapistafterKristenwarnedagainstitlastyear,butIwasn’tsureIhadachoice:Iwasalmostthirty,inmyfirstgrown-uprelationship,andonthebrinkofscrewingeverythingup.
“Whenyousayyouwanttobestronger,whatdoyoumean?”sheasked.
Ilookedaway.Strongenoughtostuffmypanicintoabox.Strongenoughtogetthroughtheday—anhour,even—withoutaslapoffearthatPaolowillbefound.Strongenoughtoheararingingphoneandnotfreezeupassumingit’stheChileanpolice.I’dlookedintoitafterCambodia—thoughtherewasnoguaranteetheU.S.wouldextraditeme,ifIwaschargedI’dhavemyfaceinthenews,mypassportflagged.Myliferuined.
“Uh…moreincontrolofmyemotions,Iguess.Like…likeotherpeopleare.”Byotherpeople,ofcourse,ImeantKristen.WhatwasIdoinghere?Icouldn’ttellherthetruth:thatitseemedlikely,eveninevitable,thatwe’dbecaught.Kristenhadbeenthemastermindlastyear,andofcourseherplanworked—wegotawaywithit.ButinChile,I’dbeenincharge,andIwasshakyandshortsighted,myconfidencefeigned.Anydaynow,they’dtriangulatePaolo’slastknownwhereabouts,hisveryvisiblenightoutinQuiteria.What’stheproperwaytoaskatherapisttoassuageyourrealisticconcerns?
Answer:Tellheraboutanotherrealisticconcern.“So,lastyear,I…Iwasattacked,duringahookup,andIhadaroughtimerecovering.”
“I’msosorrythathappenedtoyou.”
“Thanks.I—Iwasamessatfirst,tobehonest.Icouldbarelygetthroughtheday.Butmybestfriend,shelivesinAustralia,butevenso,shewasthereformeeverysingledayduringthatperiod.PiecingmetogetheruntilIstartedtofeellikemyselfagain.Butthen…”
Adriennewasfixingmewiththekindest,mostintenselisteningface.
“Lastweek,shehadasimilarthinghappentoher.Whilewewereonvacationtogether.AndnowIwanttobestrongforher,but…”
“Wow,Emily.Seeinghergothroughthatmustbeprettytriggering.”
Ibitmylip.WithenoughtimeandKristen’ssupport,I’dsealedoffthehorrificSebastianincidentwithasatisfyingthump,likeclosingthelidofacoffinorabook’sheavybackcover.I’dgottenbacktomylifeanddoubleddownonmyfriendshipwithKristen.Buttosuddenlyreconceiveofthatonce-in-a-lifetimenightmareasnotsoone-time-only…nowSebastianwasbackinthecornerofmyvision,andthefeelofhiscool,dryskinwasminglinginmymindwithPaolo’shairyflesh.
Paolo—theymightbeunearthinghimthisveryminute.
“Didyoureporttheattack?”
“Wedidn’t,no.”Abeat.“Neitherone.”
Adriennenodded.“What’softenhardforsurvivorsisthatthere’snoclosure.Theperpetratorgetsoffscot-free,andyou’releftknowinghe’sstilloutthere.”
Alarmbells,redflashinglights:Sebastianwasn’troamingthestreets,unpunished—Paolo,neither.CouldshetellIwasholdingback?Wasshetestingme?Whythehellareyouhere,Emily?
“What’sgoingon?Iseethewheelsturning.”Adriennetappedhertemple.
“I’m…reallynervous,honestly,”Isaid.“I’mnotevensurehowtherapyissupposedtowork.”Lord,Iwasanidiot.I’dhadsomevague,half-bakedideathatAdriennecouldteachmetocontrolmyanxietyoverbeingcaught—somemagicaltechniqueforcontainingthefear.AndthatsorcerywouldallowmetoactnormalaroundAaron,todeservehisaffection,tobelikable—lovable.I’dsmooththingsoverwithKristen,too,andfromthereonoutitwouldbenothingbutflowersandrainbows,alifeasbeautifulasacruise-linecommercial.ButitwaslikeKristenhadsaid:Therapydoesn’tworklikethat.NowIwasdancingaroundtherealissues,wastingAdrienne’stimeandmakingmyselflookdodgy.
“Tellmeaboutthisfriend—theoneyouwanttoshowupfor.”
IranAdriennethroughthebasics.
“What’sinterestingtomeisthatwhenpeopleareexperiencingtrauma,theytendtogoinward,”shesaid.“They’renotthinkingselflesslybecausethey’rejusttryingtosurvive.AndyetyouwanttoworkonbeingabetterfriendtoKristen.Whydoyouthinkthatis?”
Crap—shecouldseerightthroughme.“Well,Kristen’sdonesomuchforme.IfeellikeIshould—Imean,Iwanttobecomelessofatakerandmoreofagiver.Iwanttostepup.”
“HasKristensaidshewishesyouweredoingmore?”
“Notexactly,”Isaid.Kristenseemed…weirdlyfine.DidshereallynotneedmelikeI’dneededher?I’dsentheracertificateforamassageataSydneyspa,thenanUberEatsgiftcardwithanoteaboutgettingherselfsomecomfortfood,butherthank-youswereupbeatandabitgobsmacked:Aw,youdidn’tneedtodothis!
“What’sgoingonwiththerestofyoursupportsystem?”Adrienneasked.“Family,otherfriends?Apartner?”
“I’mnotclosewithmyfamily,”Iadmitted.“JustKristen—she’slikemysister.AndIdon’thaveahugegaggleoffriends;I’dratherhaveoneride-or-diethan,y’know,amillionacquaintances.Butalso,Ijuststartedseeingsomeone.It’s…supernew,butyeah.He’sgreat.”Ihookedmyankleovermykneeandblinkedatthetinylotusflowerthere.ItfeltlikeeonsagothatKristenandIhadgottenthese.
“Canyoutellmeabouthim?”
Irelaxed,toldherhowwe’dmet,howAarononlyputmeonedgebecauseheseemedtoogoodtobetrue.HowhewasthefirstguyI’dreallylikedinfivewholeyears,thefirstoneIcouldseeafuturewith.Howdifferentthingsfeltwithhim,buthowwheneverwestartedtomakeoutIfrozeup.
“Yourfacelightsupwhenyoutalkabouthim,”Adrienneobserved.“Evenwhenyou’retalkingaboutputtingwallsup.It’snicetosee.”
Ilookedaway,aclosed-mouthsmiletuggingatmylips.
“Yousaidhe’sthefirstguyinfiveyears—whowasthelastone?”
“Oh,Idon’tthinkabouthimmuch.”Iwavedmyhand.“HisnamewasColin,wemetonOKCupid.AtfirstIthoughtthingsweregoingreallywell—wehadgreatchemistry,hewastotallymytype,allthat.Butthen,afterafewmonths,shortlyafterhemetmyfriends,Irealizedhewaskindof…possessive,maybe.HeandKristenbuttedheads.And,youknow.Loveme,lovemypeople.”
Colinhadflickeredbackintomyconsciousnessafewmonthsago—asuggestedfriendonanewappI’ddownloaded.Whileeveryoneelseinmylifehadgivenmetheirvague,blanketapprovalofhimatthetime(“Heseemsgreat;gladtoseeyouhappy!”),Kristenhadbeentheonetolookcloselyandaskquestions.Onenightshe’dpointedoutthathisirritatedresponsetomycancelingplans“reekedofapersonalitydisorder.”
“Andthennooneforfiveyears,”Adrienneprompted.
“Nooneserious,no.”
“Anddoes…”Hereyesflickedtothenotepadinherlap.“DoesAaronknowyousurvivedasexualassaultlastyear?”
“Oh,likeIsaid,Iwasn’t…raped.Hejust—”
“Itwassexualassault,Emily.”Sheletithangintheairforasecond.“Ifitwasunwantedsexualcontact,that’ssexualassault.”
Tearssprangintomyeyesagain.“Iguess.Buttoansweryourquestion,no,hedoesn’tknowaboutit.Idon’ttalkaboutit.”
Hereyebrowsjolted.“ExceptwithKristen.”
ThisisJoan.She’sthebestfriendagirlcouldhave.
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,rightastheclockhit7:50.
—
DRISHTIYOGAHADalwaysbeenmyhappyplace,apointofrefuge.
ButnowIwasn’tsure.
Itwasasunny,spaciousspotwiththescentofpalosantosugaringtheair.Inthefrontwindow,crystalsandcactihadbeenartfullyarranged,andIflickedmymatopenonthestudio’ssmoothwood.PriyaappearedasIwascarryingatowerofblanketsandblocksoverfromthewall,andthepropstumbledtothefloorasshegavemeaone-armedhug.
Backincollege,Kristenhadintroducedmetoyoga—Ihadhertothankforthat.Ilovedit:cuedbreathssoslowtheystretchedmylungslikeweatherballoons;thefierceconcentrationrequiredforeventhesimplestasanas.AfterCambodia,myyogastudiohadbeenmychurch.I’dfeeltearsbriminthedeepacheofPigeonPoseorinCamelPose’sbraveunfurling,andinthatmomentI’dbelievethatmaybe,maybeIcouldsomedayletitallgo.
CouldIreallystarttheentirehealingprocess…again?
Priyawhippedoffhersweatshirttorevealaswathofripplingabs.“IinvitedmyfriendTim,fromGethsemane,”shesaid,straighteninghermatnexttomine.Shemeantthechurch,notthegarden.“Hopethat’sokay.”
“Ofcourse!HaveImethim?”PriyaattendedahugeEpiscopalchurchinBayView,andalltheGethsemanefolksI’dmetatherpartiesseemedfunandartsy.
“Idon’tthinkso.You’lllikehim.”Priyawasalwaysinvitingfolkstothings,mixinggroups,happiestinathrummingcocoonofotherpeople.Shestrodetothefrontwindowtotakeapictureoftheplant-and-rockvignette.IenviedhereffortlessInstagramaesthetic,stilllifessheelevatedintoart.
IthadbeenaweeksincetheincidentinChile,anditcreptintomymindasImovedandflowed,myquadsquivering.IimaginedmyfearofsomeonefindingPaolotricklingoutinmyUjjayibreath,mysaltysweat.Asmyhamstringsfinally,finallygaveuptheirweekofsorenessinStaffPose,IpicturedAaronsittingacrossfromme,thetwoawfulincidentshangingbetweenuslikeahologram.InBowPose,balancingonmybelly,Ifeltsomethingdeepinsidemyabdomentightening,takingformlikeaheatpacksnappedintoasolid.Whenweeasedontothefloorandtheclassmovedon,Ilaystill,waitingformyeyestoblinkdry.
AfterSavasana,aswesatcross-legged,theinstructorwentoffonawoo-wootangent:Youaredivineconsciousnessthathaschosentobecomehuman,becauseconsciousnessneedsformtoevolveandexplore.IcrackedmyeyesopenandPriyaandIexchangedasmile.
Onthesidewalkafterclass,PriyasaidgoodbyetoTimandthencheckedherphone.Herfacelitup.“Thisisyourfriend,right?”SheheldupherscreenandIsquintedatthecommentsbelowherpictureofDrishti’swindowdisplay.KristenwasanInstagramlurker,followingothersbutneverpostingphotosofherown,soittookmeamomenttorecognizeherhandle.Sopretty—Emilywastellingmeaboutthisplace!,itread.
Guiltsurgedthroughme.Ihadn’tcontactedKristentoday—I’dbeenreachingoutless,reasoningthatshedidn’tseemtoneedme,thatshealwaysbrushedmeoffwhenIaskedifshewasokay.OurphonecallsfeltawkwardandstrainedasIstruggledtodiscussanythingotherthanSebastianandPaolo…orAaron,sinceIfiguredshedidn’twanttohearmeblatheringonaboutmynewrelationship.Now,whensomethingfunnycaughtmyattention,IsentittoAaron,notKristen.Whichwasshittyofme,right?Pullingawayfromheraftershe’dbeenthereforme?
“That’sher!”Imanaged,lookingawayfromPriya’sscreen.Howweird.Therockinmybellyfromclassre-formed,sharperthanever.
—
BUTIDIDN’ThearfromKristenthatnight,either.Anaggypartofmekeptwhippingmyself—badEmily,you’reavoidingyourbestfriend—butintheeveningAaronandIcaughtanindiehorrormovieattheOriental,hisarmslungaroundmeinthecinema’sred-velvetcore.Wespazzedoutatthejumpscaresandhekissedmycheekwhenthecreditsrolled,andthoughwedidn’tspendthenighttogether,duringthedateanythoughtsofKristenwereadistantflicker.
ItwasthelongestsilentspellKristenandIhadeverhad,andwhenIwokeonSunday—herMonday,ontothenextworkweek—withoutatext,Ifeltastrangepush-pull:reliefplusguilt,respiteplusshame.IpicturedKristeninherownbedroomonthebottomoftheworld,realizing—accepting—thatIcouldn’tputherbacktogether.
What’smore,Ibegantothinkwereallymightgetawaywithwhatwe’ddone.There’dbeennaryamentionofamissingbackpackerinthenews.Mynightmarewasfivethousandmilesawayonadesolateslashofmountain,andtheonlypersonwhoknewaboutitwasalmosttwiceasfarfromme,andthewallI’dbeenbuildingbetweenuswasgrowingfirm.AaronandIwereinarelationshipnowandIwasputtingthepastbehindme.IstilllovedKristen,andmaybesomedayshe’dforgiveme,butIcouldn’tcountonit.Didn’tdeserveit.
Becausemystrongestfeeling,theonehanginglikeadomeoveralltheothers,wasanintensedesirenottospeakwith,reachoutto,oreventhinkofKristen.Itwouldbeonethingifwecouldfreakingtalkaboutwhatweneededtotalkabout.Butshe’dbarredthetopicfromourphonecalls,citingsecurityconcerns,andanyway,shedidn’tseemtoneedme,shewasn’tcrumblinglikesnowthewayIwasafterPhnomPenh.Infact,shewasactinglikeitneverhappened.IthoughtdullythatIshouldtryharder,beabetterfriend,butIwaslikeapersonstandingattheshoreofLakeMichiganattheNewYear’sDaypolarplunge.AsmuchasIwantedtowantit,Istayedrootedtothesand.
Itwashardenoughtokeepupourfriendshipoverseas;therewasaseventeen-hourtimedifference,differentschedulesandseasons,livesofourown.Otherfriendshipshadended—oratleasttakenastepback—overmuch,muchless.
Ibrushedmyteethandpulledacombthroughmyhair.Acceptancewasseepingintomylungs,littlevapors.IthadfinallygottenthroughtoKristenthatIwouldn’tbowoutofmylifeinMilwaukeetobackpackwithher.Aarontextedrightthen,andIletthefantasyunwind:MaybethistimenextyearI’dbeplanningagetawaywithhim.Orevenasolotrip—iftheyogateacherwascorrect,wasn’titmydutyasahumanbeingwitheyesandlegsandabeat-beat-beatinghearttoexperiencethings,toexplore?Allthehand-wringingaboutwomentemptingfatebygoingonadventures,howitwasourresponsibilitytoprotectourselves…wasn’titsimplyawaytokeepwomen’slivessmall?Tokeepuscoweringathome,controlled,contained?PerhapsI’dvisitsomewherelessexoticbutjustasincredible—atrainvoyagearoundcentralEurope,say,oraroadtriptoanationalparkoutwest.
Ifrozeatthemelodicchimeofmyfrontdoor.Iglanceddownthehallwayatthelightslantinginfromthewindows,andthedoorbellrangagain.
Islippeddownthehallandpulledthedooropenafewinches,thenwentrigid.Myearscrackledandshockwhooshedthroughme.Itwasablusterydayandwindjoltedbetweenmyfrontdoorandtheworldoutside.
“EmilyDonovan.”Kristentookthedoorinherhandandopenedittherestoftheway.Shesmiledwide.“Surprise.”
CHAPTER14
Adream—thishadtobeanotherdream,likethesunrise-on-Lake-Michiganone,defyingthelawsofphysics,oflineartime.KristenwasinSydneythisveryminute,glaringatherannoyingboss,buyingautumnalvegetables,pullingsweatersfromherclosetfortheimpendingwinter.Herworldwassounlikemine.Shecouldn’tbeonmyfrontporchinMilwaukee,Wisconsin.
“I’vemissedyou!”Hersuitcasethumpedtotheconcreteasshepulledmeintoahug.Iwrappedmyarmsaroundhertooandwassurprisedtofindhersolid.ThehugfilledmewithwarmthandIsqueezedourheartstogether,breathedintoherneck.Kristenishere.
“Whatareyou…howareyouhere?”Isaidintoherjacket.
Shegiggled.“Howdoyouthink?Sixteen-hourflighttoL.A.,four-hourflighttoChicago,bustoMilwaukee,Uberfromthestation.”Sheletmegoandgrabbedherbag.“So,needlesstosay,I’mexhausted.Yougonnaletmein?”
Iopenedmymouthandthenclosedit,insteadgivingmyheadanincredulousshake.Iheldthedoorwideandshepushedpastme.
“Youshouldseeyourfacerightnow!Pictureacompilationvideooftheworld’sgreatestsurprise-partyreactions.You’relikeaGIF.”Shesqueezedmyshoulderasshepassed.
“Kristen,areyouokay?Areyouhavingflashbacksoranything?I’msogladtoseeyourface.”Igaveheranotherhug,moreurgentlythistime.
“Honestly,I’mdoinggreat!EspeciallynowthatI’mreunitedwithmybestie.”Shepausedintheentryway.“WasthisgallerywalluplasttimeIwashere?”
Istaredather:Doesnotcompute.WasIstillasleep?ThelasttimeKristenwasintownwas…twoChristmasesago?“Iguessyouhaven’tseenit.Whereareyoustaying?”
“I’llstayatmygrandparents’,don’tworry.”TheylivedinBrookfield,asuburbtwentyminutesinland.
“Didyouwanttostayhere?”
“Hmm,astemptingasyourminiaturesofaandleakyairmattressare…”
Ifollowedherintothekitchen.“Well,letmeknowifyouchangeyourmind.Iknowyourgrandparentsare…difficult.”
“Thanks!Yeah,we’llsee.”Shehelpedherselftoaglassofwater.
“Howlongwillyoubeintown?”Ismiledandtriedagain:“HowlongdoIgetwithyou?”
“I’lltellyouthewholestoryoncemybrainturnson.Ugh,I’msohappytobehome.Springissonicehere—afterarealwinter,notlikeAustralia.”
Igawpedatherforamoment.“Ican’tbelieveit,Kristen!You’relikeamirage.”Iwipedmypalmacrosstheairinfrontofme.
“Iknow.”Shegiggled.“AndyouprobablyhaveatongoingonandIdon’twantyoutoclearyourscheduleformeoranything.Ijustreallywantedtosurpriseyou.Therearesofewgenuinesurprisesinlifethesedays,youknow?”
Iblinkedather.Wassheserious?Iconsideredtwodeadbodiesquitesurprising.Thekindofshockthatmademehopetherestofmydayswouldunfoldwithoutmyencounteringtheunexpected.Still,mychestgushedwithhowgladIwastoseeher.
“Realtalk,Kristen.IwasinabadplaceafterCambodialastyear.Howareyoudoing?”
Shegazedoutthewindow.“IthinkI’mbetteratcompartmentalizingthanyou.SinceIwentthroughsomeshitgrowingup.”
Inodded.Herparents,deadinahousefire—orphaningherlikeBruceWayne.Pityandguiltmingledandrosethroughmythroat.“God,I’msohappytoseeyou,Kristen.AllI’vewantedthislastweekistohaveyouhere,tobeabletotalkabouteverythingyouwentthrough.”
“Aww,babe!Hey,doyouhaveanycoffee?”
“Icanmakesome.”Istoodandyankedaspoonfromadrawer.Ourrhythmwasalloff,Kristenbattingawaymyattemptsatrealtalklikeaninja.Ipitchedafewscoopsofcoffeeintothemachine.“Ican’tbelieveyouspentallthattimeonplanesagainjustaweeklater.I’mnotsureIeverwanttotravelagain.”
“Well,sixteen-hourflightsarethenormformethesedays.”
Ifocusedonclickingthecarafeintoplace.Mymovementsfeltchoreographed,likestagedirections:Sheclattersaround,makingcoffee.“Youdon’thavetobeokay,youknow,”Isaid.“WhathappenedinCambodia,it—itrippedmeopen,itleftmeconfusedandscaredandraw.Icouldn’t…well,Idon’thavetotellyouwhatamessIwas.”
Shewatchedme,noddingsympathetically.Thiswasallwrong;sheshouldn’thavetocomfortme.Shewashere,rightinfrontofme—theexactthingI’dbeenwishingforsinceIgothome.ButIdidn’tfeelbetter.Withapang,IwonderedifthedistancebetweenKristenandmehadbeenablessing:alongandnarrowbutviablepathtowardhealing.NowIfeltmyselfslidingtheoppositewaylikesomeonedraggedbytheheels.
“Butyougotthroughit,”shesaid.“AndIwilltoo.Especiallynowthatwe’retogetheragain.”Shesmiledwideandthenstifledayawn.
“I’mgladyou’redoingwell.Butyoumustbeexhausted.”Iglancedattheclockonthemicrowave—AaronandIweremeetingforbrunchinlessthananhour.“Ican’twaittocatchup,butIalsodon’twanttokeepyoufromsleeping.”
Weweregoodatthis—navigatingeachother’sbodilyneedswhileinforeignlands,deprivedofourusualroutines.Butsheshookherhead:“Seeingyouisgivingmeasecondwind.Areyouuptoanythingrightnow?”
“Well,Iactuallyhavebrunchplans.Butwecanhangoutafter?”Somuchbrightnessinmyvoice,sparklyandcitrus.
“Withwho,Aaron?”
“Actually,yeah.Ithinkthingsaregoing…reallywell.”Foronce,IknewwhatIwanted:toendthisawkwardreunion,tosmileandfeelgoodwithAaron,andthentotryagainwithKristenlater,whenshe’dcaughtuponsleep,whenthingsbetweenusweren’tso…off.ButthenImadeastupidgamble,becauseIfiguredtherewasnoway,nowayshe’dwanttogooutinpublicafterasixteen-hourflightandafour-hourflightandabusrideandanUber:“Wanttojoinusforbrunch?”
“I’mgoingtotakeaninety-secondshower,”shereplied,alreadyrisingfromherseat,“andthenI’myours.”
—
ONTHEDRIVEtotherestaurant,Kristenwasrelaxedandchatty,jabberingabouttheflight,hercreepyUberdriver,howhergrandparentshadbeenweirdaboutherimpromptuvisitsincetheyweretryingtoturnherbedroomintoaworkoutstudioandhadalreadyshuntedallherthingstotheircabinUpNorth.Itriedtolisten,butmymindraced:Sure,Kristenhadalwaysbeenenergetic,eagertohangout,andquicktogetoverthings,but…butwasn’tthisbehaviorborderingonsociopathic?
OrwasitallanactandshewasdoingevenworsethanI’dletmyselfimagine?Ishould’vefeltrelievedthatsheseemedsounperturbed,butinsteadIfelttrapped.Herjovialitybaffledme—likewehadn’tburiedabodyaweekago,likeitwasallinmyhead.Ifeltweak,brokenincomparison.Whywasshesogoddamncavalier?
“Ifyou’retired,I’mstillhappytotakeyoutoyourgrandparents’,”Isaid.“Wecangettogetherafteryou’vegottensomesleep.”
“Ugh,no—I’mputtingthatreunionoffaslongaspossible.”Sheturnedandgrinnedatme.“What,youtryingtogetridofme?”
Well,yes.“God,no!Justwantedtogiveyouanout.That’salotoftravel.”
“Don’tworry,I’mnottoosleep-deprivedtogetareadonthisnewboyfriendofyours.”
She’sgoingtomeetAaron.WhatwillshethinkofAaron?ThethoughtwassoloudIalmostzoomedthroughanintersection,slammingonthebrakeswhenIregisteredKristenchanting,“Redlight,redlight,redlight!”
I’dtextedAaronwhileKristenwasintheshower,sowhenhespottedusfromtherestaurant’sfrontwindowhisfaceregistereddelight,notsurprise.HewavedandIforcedagrin.
“Isthathim?”KristenclutchedmyarmandIflinched.
Surelysherecognizedhim.Surelyshe’dfoundhimonsocialmedia—she’dfoundPriya,afterall.“Yep,that’stheguy!”Witheveryounceofenergyinsideme,Imanagedtomakemyvoicecheery.
Therewerehandshakesandhugs,andwhenAaronkissedme,heatplumedacrossmycheeks.Ahostessledustoaspotinsideabaywindow.Thecafé,afarm-to-tablejointinarefurbishedhome,wasnoisyandbustling,dinersspeakinglouderandloudertobeheardoveroneanother.
“SoEmilydidn’ttellmewhyyou’rehere!”Aaronscrapedhisseattowardthetable.Ileanedforward—Ihadn’tgottenanansweryeteither.
“Yeah,so,Igotmaderedundant.Sonoweverything’supintheair.Myformerboss,theonehereinMilwaukeefrombeforeItransferred—she’sfightinghardforthemtofindmeanotherroleinthecompany,sowhoknowswhat’llhappen.Butfornow,IhadalltheseairlinemilesandIrealizedIwantedtobehere.Nearthepeoplewhomattertome.”Shebeamedaradiantsmilemyway.
“Woof,I’msorry,”Aaronsaid.
“That’sawful!Kristen,I’msosorry.”Ifeltmyeyebrowsstretchingtowardmyhairline,easedthembackdown.“Soyoumightbehomeforgood?”
“Idon’tknowyet.Italldepends.Ican’tliveinAustraliawithoutaworkvisa,obviously.”
Wow.Myinsidesdidsomethingcomplicated.Ontheonehand,thiswasexactlywhatI’dbeenhopingfor:IcouldHaveItAll,thenewrelationshipandthebestfriendIcouldconfideinandcrywithandhugasIworkedthroughthehorrorofChile.SomeonetowhomIcouldvoicemyfearsofbeingcaught—speakingwithoutcensorshipandbaskinginherconfidence,hercare,thewayshemademefeellikemymostbadassself.
Andyet—somethingwasoff.She’donlybeenhereanhour,butIfeltit,likewewerebroadcastingondifferentwavelengths.
Butitwasprobablyjustherjetlagbumpingupagainstmyinsecurities.“I’mreallysorryyougotlaidoff.”Ireachedoutandgrabbedherhand.“Thatsucks,eventhoughyouhatedthatjob.”
Sheshrugged.“Thanks.Butyou’reright,Ididhateit.Maybethisisthebestpossibleoutcome.”
“Whendidithappen?”Iasked.Achildshriekedbehindme.Apulseofparanoia:Didherbossfindoutwhatwedid?Didsomethinggiveusaway?“Youwerejusttalkingabouttakingasabbaticalatwork.”
“Iknow!Itjusthappened.Sonowthatwholeplanisupintheair.”SheturnedtoAaronandsaidbrightly,“AlthoughIdon’tknowwhyshe’deventhinkaboutleavingyou!Aaron,Emilyonlytoldmeatinybitaboutyou.Youmetatthecoffeeshopwhereyouwork,right?”
Thewaitressappeared,ared-cheekedteenagerwithherhairinaprettyFrenchbraid.Shetookourordersandsloshedcoffeeintoourmugs—mismatchedchinaonpatternedsaucers.
Aaronpouredcreamintohisandtwofatwhitedotssplatteredontothetable.HetoldKristenthestory,smilingandrelaxed,andthensheaskedhimwhatelsekepthimbusy,andhegood-naturedlytoldherabouthisfreelancegraphic-designprojects,andIsmiledandlookedproudbutinternallyIcringed.Ifeltfoolishforkeepinghimsecretforsolong—howcouldInotseethatwouldhurthim?
Kristensatupstraight.“SoI’msureEmilytoldyouallaboutourtriptoChile.”
Myfingersjolted—justenoughfortheglassinsidethemtoslipthroughandcrashtothetable.Rivuletsoforangejuicestreamedtowardthetable’sedgesanddroppeddirectlyinAaron’slap.Theglassrolledawayandshatteredonthefloor,ajanglycrash.Wejumpedupandpressedournapkinsonthepuddle,andawaiterrushedoverwithadishrag,andtheentirerestaurantturnedtostareatus,silent,judging.
“Sosorry,”Imurmuredaswescrapedourseatsbackuptothetable.
“IwasjusttalkingaboutChile,”Kristenprompted.“IassumeEmilytoldyouaboutouradventures?”
Someonecamebywithadustpan,andIapologizedagainashecrouchedandswept.
Denialwasonething—denialwasonewayofdealingwithtrauma.Buttoactivelybringitup?
“Ohyeah.”Aaron’seyesflickedtome.“Seemedlikeyouguyshadalittletoomuchfun.Shewasoutcoldfor,like,fivedaysafter.”
“Iimagineshewouldbe,”Kristensaid.
“Yeah,wedidalotofrunningaroundandhiking,”Icutin,myvoicehigh.
Kristensmirked.“Exactly.Somuchhiking.HaveyoubeentoSouthAmerica?”
Aaronshookhishead.“I’macold-weatherkindaguy.Iturnbrightpinkaftertwominutesintheheat.”
Kristenchuckled.“Wewentthroughabouttengallonsofsunscreen.”
“Doesn’tevenhelp.I’mlike…ashrimp.Pastywhenthey’reraw,buttoss’eminahotpanandsuddenlythey’rethecolorofflamingos.”
“Y’know,I’vealwayslikedcookingthingsthatchangecolorwhenthey’redone.”Shesethermugdownwithaclink.“It’slikeamagictrick.Likethosepurplebeansthatturngreenwhenyoucookthem.”
“What’swildisthatshrimpturnspinktotellyouit’sdone,”hereplied,“veryhandy.Butchicken,right?Itstartsoutpink…andturnswhite.”
“Somebodygetthismananatureshow,”Kristencracked,andtheylockedeyesandlaughed.Mybestfriendandboyfriendhittingitoff—thiswassupposedtobethedream.InsteadIfeltmyinsidestightenandcrackle.
—
WHENKRISTENWENTtothebathroom,Aaronplacedhishandonmineandstrokedmyknuckles.
“CanIaskyousomething?”hesaid.
“Ofcourse.”
“Didsomething…happeninChile?”
TheroomfellsilentandIfeltatunnel,hotandtender,startingatmythroatandrushingdownward,wideninglikeashotgunshell.
Myvoiceacaw:“Whatmakesyousaythat?”
“Youseemsotense.”
Istaredathissmile,histhinlipsinakindU,andforcedmyselftobreathe.Mychesthadtightened,asifmyasthmawereactingup.In.Thenout.ThedreamyyogainstructorfromPiscoElquimurmuredinmymind:Yoursmilepowersyourcorazón.
“It’stotallynothing.”
Heshookhishead.“Youdon’thavetotellmeifyoudon’twantto.ButI’msureyouguys’llfigureitout.Sheclearlyhasalotofloveforyou.”Heleanedin.“I’msureit’llallbeokay.”
Howluckyhewastobeabletosaythat.Totrustthatnothingbadcouldeverhappen.Toneverknowtheweightofabodyinhisarms,thewaythefleshslidoverthetendonsandbones.
Iplayedwiththestickymaple-syrupcontainer.“KristenandIarefine,”Isaid.“She’sjust—”
“Kristen,hey!”Hecutmeoffasshereachedthetable.
“Heythere!Didtheybringthebill?”ShesatandliftedherBloodyMary,apintglassfilledwithviscousredliquid.Shesippeduntilthestrawgurgledandthenplunkeditonthetable,andmystomachturned.
Icouldn’thelpthinkingitlookedlikePaolo’sbloodpooledonthehotelfloor.
CHAPTER15
“SorryI,um,freakedoutandspilledOJallovereveryone.”
Kristenbuckledherseatbelt.“Oh,it’sfine.MostofitendeduponAaron.”
Ibackedoutoftheparkingspot.“Right.ButIguessIwas…caughtoffguard?ByyourbringingupChile.”
Hereyebrowssqueezed.“Whywouldn’tIbringupChile?”
Isputtered,unabletoanswer.
“You’retalkinglikeI’mtheoneactingweird.Butyou’rebeingweird.”Shedugawaterbottlefromherbagandunscrewedthecap.“Hey,soAaronisgreat.Notthekindaguyyounormallygofor.I’msurprised.”
Shehadn’teaseduponthiscampaign,notforasecond:EverythingIsFine,I’masUpbeatasEver.Howwasshesogoodatthis?
“Yeah,he’skindofahipster,”Isaid.“Buthe’sagreatguy.”
“I’mglad.Maybedifferentisagoodthing.Sinceyouseemtopickbadapples.”Shechuggedsomewaterastheassessmentthuddedintome.“Imean,nojudgment.Idothesame.”
Iglancedherway.Shewasn’twrong:BentheAbusive.ColintheJealous.“Well,IknowIcancountonyoutogivemeyourhonestappraisal.”
“Youknowit!”
Wepausedataredlightandtimestoodstill.“Hey,Idon’twantyoutothinkI’mabandoningyouoranything,”Isaidcarefully.“You’llalwaysbewaymoreimportanttomethananydude.”
“Oh,Iknowthat.Takealeftatthenextlight.God,Ihatecominghere.”
Ihadn’tdriventoNanaandBill’shouseinyears,butmyhandsonthesteeringwheelrememberedtheway.LeftatKingofKings,thebigbrickchurchandgradeschoolwithamarqueeonthefrontlawn:MEN’SFELLOWSHIP&BIBLESTUDY7PM.RightontoBeaumont,afatDeadEndsignstakedintothecorner,andthenstraightthroughtothecul-de-sacbulgingoutoftheroad:NanaandBill’seleganthomeontheleft,agaudyturretedmansionontheright,andaCalifornia-styleranchbetweenthem,itsdrivewayflankedbystone-pineapple-toppedpillars.Thecastle-likemonstrosityontherighthadbeenbuiltoverKristen’schildhoodhome—theoneshesharedwithherparentsbeforetheywerekilledinahousefire.I’dalwaysfounditoddandalittlesadisticthathergrandparentsstayedput:Livingwiththemmeantshewasalwaystwodoorsdownfromthesiteofthattragedy.
NanaandBill’shousewasenormous,biggerthanI’dremembered,withbrownishbrickandapeakedroof,windowsgazingdownatmelikewatchfuleyes.Twomassivemapletreesframedthedrivewayandarowofbushesfringedthefrontdoor,andallofthemhadthatabout-to-burstspringlook:crimsonkernelsclusteredonthemaples’boughsandlime-greenpuffspokingoutfromthebushes.NormallyIlovedspring,thatperiodofrebirth,butagainstthetawnylawnandimposinghouse,thefloralookeddefenseless,preemie.
“Doyouwantmetohelpyoucarryyourstuffin?”
“Mygrandparentsaregoingtoinsistyoucomeinandsayhi.They’reprobablywaitingbythedoor.Consideryourselfwarned.”
“We’regonnagobesocial?”Iraisedmyeyebrows.“Aren’tyouexhausted?”
“I’mhanginginthere.C’mon.”
Weheadedforthefrontdoor.Kristenhadspentherteenyearshere,atahigh-performingpublichighschoolthatwenttostateforbougiesports:golf,tennis,soccer.Kristenhadbeenonthepomssquad,apostgraddiscoverythatdelightedmetonoend.(Itwasadanceteamthatusedpom-poms,sheinformedme,andnothinglikecheerleading.)Incollegewe’drolledoureyesatthegirlswhorushedsororities,eagertofitin.PicturingteenageKristenhigh-kickingtoJustinTimberlakewasstrangeatbest.
Kristenrangthedoorbell,andfortheumpteenthtimethatday,Isteeledmyself.NanaandBillalwaysputmeonedge.Sure,theywerefriendlyinthatfolksy,genericway.ButIcouldn’tquitesquaremyimpressionsofthenice,slightlysnobbyseniorcitizensI’dmetwiththeremarksKristenhadmadeaboutthem.HowBillhadtoldher,smiling,thatshe’dneverlastinadvertising.Howhe’dreadherhonorsthesis(“FemalePoliticalRepresentationandLaborForceParticipationinThailand”)andhandeditbacktoherwithnothingbutafewpassagesunderlinedintheLimitationssection,asifdemonstratinghisagreementwitheverythingherdissertationdidn’tdo.Itwashardtoimaginethesepubliclypleasantpeopleactingsodismissiveinprivate.
Thedoorswungopenandtheretheystood:Billtallandround,Nanasmallandbirdlike.TheygaveKristenandmecurthugs.
“WepickedoutabottleofMerlot,”Nanaannounced,andIthankedher.Apparentlyweweredoingsomedaydrinking.“I’llgrabusglasses.”
Billgesturedmeintoalivingroom(familyroom?Theylookedidenticalandsatdirectlyacrossfromeachother),andIsat.Therewasthatawkwardgroupexhaleasweallsmiledandlookedatoneanotherandwonderedwhoseturnitwastospeak.Aren’tyougoingtoaskKristenhowherflightswere?Aren’tyouexcitedtoseeyourgranddaughterforthefirsttimeinoverayear?
Billbrokethesilence:“Howwasbrunch?”Igotthefeelinghedidn’treallycare.
“Itwasgreat!”Inoddedeagerly.“WewenttoEvie’s,nearthecasino?SolidFrenchtoast.”Iclearedmythroat.“Andhowareyoudoing?It’sbeenatleasttwoyearssinceI’veseenyou,right?”
“Thatlong?”Billmadeapuffingsound.
“WeheardyouhadanicetimeinChile,”Nanabrokein,expertlyclutchingourtopped-offglassesinafour-leafcloverpattern.“Yougirlsaresobrave,travelingaroundinaforeigncountrylikethat.”SheleanedovertohandmeoneandIavoidedhereyes,myheartsuddenlyracing.WouldIeverbeabletospeakcasuallyaboutourtrip?
“Careful—Emilyhasbutterfingerstoday!”Kristencalledout.Shewinked,actuallywinked,andIfeltmyselfblush.
Billignoredherashedisentangledadrinkfromtheothers.“Yeah,weheardallaboutthelittlemountaintownsyoufoundinChile.Andallthe—what’sitcalled?”
“What?”Kristenasked,pluckingaglassofherown.Shelookedunperturbed.
“Theliquoryougalsweredrinking—pico?”
“Pisco!”Inodded.“Deliciousstuff.”ItriedtocatchKristen’seye,butshewassippingherwinecalmly.
“Igetsonervousaboutyougirlsdoingallthattravelingonyourown,”Nanasaid.“Ididn’tevenhaveapassportuntilIwasinmyforties—andIcertainlywasn’tgoinganywherewithoutBillhere.”
“Yeah,webothcaughtthetravelbug,”Ireplied.Couldtheyseeitonmyface,thepanic,thebloodIcouldswearwasvisibleasitdrummedagainstmytemples?“But,um—whataboutyou?What’snew?”
“Youdidn’ttraveluntilyourfortiesbecauseyouhadDadwhenyouweretwenty-one,”KristensaidtoNana,ignoringme.“IfEmilyandIhadeight-year-olds,Idoubtwe’dbecavortingaroundtheElquiValleyeither.”
“That’strue,Iwasbusybeingamother.”Nanapursedherlips,asifshe’dtastedsomethingsour.
“Well,thankGodwe’rebusyvisitingpiscodistilleriesinsteadofchangingdiapers.”KristenraisedherglasshighandIcringedagain—whycouldn’tshesetasideherresentmentlongenoughtomovethesubjectawayfromChile,wherewe’dleftabodyintheground?
“NanaandBill,haveyoubeentraveling—enjoyingyourretirement?”Iglancedfromonetotheother.
“Oh,theyhaven’tgottenridofmeyet.”Billshruggedashoulder.“HowwouldtheyrunCzarneckiChemistswithouttheCzarnecki?”
“Youhaven’tretired!”Ibrightened,gladforthenewtopic.“IthoughtKristenmentionedaretirementpartyatsomepoint.”CzarneckiChemistswasalocalchainofpharmacies—doingwell,improbably,inaseaofWalgreens.
“Right,’causehesaidhe’dquittheminuteheturnedseventy-five,”Kristensaid.“Butapparently,quote,‘retirementisforthelazy.’?”
“ThemanbrokeoutinacoldsweatanytimeanyoneusedtheR-word,”Nanaadded,hervoicelight.“Ithinkhekeepsworkingsothathedoesn’thavetobehomewithme.”Shegrinnedandjuttedherskinnyelbowtowardhim.ThisdynamicIknewfrommyownparents,beforethey’dfinallysplit:self-deprecatinghumor,Oh,isn’titfunnyhowwecan’tstandeachother.
“Well,dear,somebody’sgottasupportyourpenchantforwine-tasting,”hevolleyedback.
Butshejustchuckled.“Oh,I’vebeenretiredsincethedayKristenfinishedcollege.Ihavenotroublefillingmydays.Butwe’reboring—tellus,Emily,what’skeepingyoubusy?”
Isetmyglassonthecoffeetable,nexttoathickblackbookthatIsuddenlyrealizedwasaBible.KingofKings,whereKristenhadgonetoschool,leanedfundamentalist,conservativeProtestant;herdadhadbeensuperinvolvedinthecommunity—girls’basketballcoach,deacononSundays.She’dswitchedschoolsafterherparentshaddied,butNanaandBillhadcontinuedtoattendweeklyservicesthere.
“Oh,youknow.Workisgood—I’matKibble,it’sastart-up?Thatmakesfancy,organiccatfood?”BillandNananoddedblankly.“It’sfun;I’mlearningalotaboutthestart-upworld.”
“Theproblemwithstart-upsisthatthey’rejusttryingtomakeenoughofanameforthemselvestogetboughtout.”Billshrugged.“There’snolong-termplanning.”
Ismiledandsippedmywine,buthiscommentburned.ThiswaswhatKristenwastalkingabout:alwaysright,alwaysconfident,withatouchofcriticismpricklingbeneathhiswords.
Nanaturnedtome:“Areyouseeinganyonespecial?”
“Yeah,wejusthadbrunchwithhim.”Kristensmirked.
“It’s—it’sreallynew.”Iclosedoffthetopicandeveryonelookedarounduncomfortably.
Adrillingnoisepiercedtheair,andBillrolledhiseyes.“Thehousenextdoor,they’vehadworkerstrompingaroundtheyardformonthsnow.Youknowtheone,withthestupidpineapples,”hesaidtome,pointing.Ifelttheairshift;Kristenhadgoneveryquiet,andNanaregardedBillwithsomethingtwitchyandfuriousinhereyes.Iwantedtofoldup,shrinkdowntoatinyrectanglelikeatent.
“Now,remindme,”Nanatried,“doyouhavesiblings?”
Didn’ttheyhaveanyquestionsforKristen,whomthey’draised—whomtheyhadn’tseeninsolong?Ishookmyhead.“Anonlychild,likeKristen.”
“Andyourparentsarestillin…Minnesota,wasit?”
“That’sright.Mymomis.Mydad’sinIowa.”
“Soyoudon’thaveanyfamilyhere!”Nanasaiditwithsomethinglikehorror.
“Nope!I’mdoingmyownthinginWisconsin,Iguess.”
Ilikedithere;aftereightyears,Milwaukeefeltlikehome.IthadmanyofthethingsI’dlovedaboutEvanston,thetownaroundNorthwestern—old,prettyhomesandpicturesquelighthouses,withjustenoughofitsownoffbeatidentitytomakeitfeelfarfromMinneapolis,andabetterfitforme.Milwaukeehadadashofthebackwoodsandbizarre:kookyout-of-timedivebarsandschmaltzyspeakeasiestuckedinamongbone-whitemuseumsandbroad,aggressivelyhipmarkets.Andthelakefront—thatbeautifullakefront.EveryspringIvowedtospendmoretimethere,readingorswimmingorpicnickingorflyingkiteswithfriends’children.Andeveryyear,summerspedbyandtheleavesbegantoblushbeforeI’dthoughttomaketheshortdrivetoBradfordBeach.
—
ANHOURLATER,Ibeganthelengthyandtime-honoredprocessofexpressingmythanksandattemptingtoleave.IfollowedNanaintothekitchen,clutchingmyemptyglassandtheuntouchedbowlofnutsshe’dsetout.
Shewhirledaround.“Iwanttoexchangenumbersincaseyoueverneedanything.”Shehandedmeherphone,whichfeltnakedandsharpwithoutacase.“Emailtoo.Weshouldhavedonethisalongtimeago.Iknowyou’reallsetuphere,butsinceyourparentsaresofaraway.”Hereyesflickered.“Justincase.”
—
INMYCAR,Isatstillforamoment,mybreathtravelingindropletsontothewindowsanddashboard.EvenmyparentsgavemeacursoryhellowhenIsawtheminperson;Kristen’sgrandparentsbarelyseemedhappytoseeher.Andviceversa—thedislikebetweenthemwaspalpable.
Also.ThewaythatthementionofChiledidn’tbotherKristen—heralmostaggressivecasualness,thelaid-backleanandunhurried,unworriedtimbreofhervoicesetmeonedge.She’dbroughtitupatbrunchwithAaron,andshehadn’tledtheconversationawaywhenBillbroachedthesubject.Meanwhile,Iwassoanxiousaboutgettingcaughtthatevenamentionofthetripmademyfingersshake,myteethchatter.
Chile.Theimageappearedasifprojectedontothewindshield:Paolo’slegsonthefloor,sneakersturneduptowardtheceiling.Bloodinabigjammyovalafewfeetaway.
Sebastian’sheadagainstthecheapmetallegofabedframeinCambodia.BloodspecklingKristen’sfeet.
Stop.Stop.Stop.
Istartedmycar,crankedtheradio.Whenitwasloudenoughtodrownoutmythoughts,Idroveaway.
CHAPTER16
Iliftedtheheavyglobe,stuckmyfingersinside.Likejabbingmynailsintotheholesofahumanskull.Itookafewstepsandletthebowlingballslipfrommygrasp.Ithitthealleywithasatisfyingcrack,thencurvedtowardtheedge,narrowlymissingalltenpins.
“Gutterball!”Aaroncalled,andIturnedtogivehimanexaggeratedshrug.Hewasreclininginthebooth,legscrossed,anold-fashionedheldhigh,andIfeltawarmrushathisrelaxedair,howcomfortablehewasnomatterthesetting.
“Taketwo,”Irepliedasthemachinespitmymaroonballbackontotherack.ItclackedagainstAaron’sliketheyweremarblesforgiants.Ilobbeditasecondtimeandthoughitarcedtotheleft,itmanagedtosendeightpinstumbling.
“That’smorelikeit!”BowlinghadbeenAaron’sidea;Ihadn’tbeensincehighschool,andIhadtoadmittherewassomethinganalogandsatisfyingaboutit,theclattersandwhirsandRubeGoldberg–machinemechanicsofitall.Hideousoxfords,strongdrinksinflimsycups,thefamiliarsmelloffloorwaxandfriedfoodandshoedisinfectant.IslidontotheplasticbenchandAaronsqueezedmykneebeforestanding.
Ihadn’tseenKristensinceourstrangeday-dateonSunday,butI’drelaxedabitsincethen.Shewasjustjetlagged,Idecided,andoffhergame.Shewasstillmybestfriend,theonewhoknewmebetterthananyoneelseintheworld.We’dfallintoourold,familiargroovesoon.
What’smore,slowly,incrementally,myfearofbeingconnectedtoPaolo’smurderwaswithering.I’dcheckedthestatsthenightbefore:IntheUnitedStates,40percentofmurdersgounsolved.Somearithmetic,then:Thatmeantthatdetectivesthrewuptheirhandsatalmostseventhousandmurdersayear—seventhousandcadaverswithnooriginstory,noclarityaroundtheinstanttheywentfromhumantobody.Andthatmeanttherewerethousands,maybemillionsintheaggregate,ofpeoplewalkingtheEarththisverymomentwho’dgottenawaywithmurder.Andsurelymostfeltguilt,shame,regretlikeacoldsprinklerthatspreadoutinsidethem.Buttheydidn’tturnthemselvesinorhangthemselveswithaconfessionblazingnearby.
Perhapstheyrelishedthenewleaseonlife,vowedtotryharder,dothingsbetterfromthatdayforward.Forward.Becausewe’rethree-dimensionalcreatures,stuckonaone-waytimelineandunabletoredothepast.Theconclusiongavemesomecomfort,whichwasperhapsabitsick:Iwasn’talone,andIhadnochoice,really,buttorollonforward,smoothandsteady.
WatchingAaronswaggertowardthelaneandsweeptheballbangdownthecenter,hisred-and-blueshoeamillimeterfromtheoilywood,Imarveledagainatthetwo-facednessofitall.Doesthismakemeasociopath?
Aaronfollowedmehomeafterward,andwheneverIsawhimintherearviewmirrorIfeltastirringinmyhips.Hewassouncomplicatedandgood,straightforwardandkind.Andhewantedme.Afterallthedating-appjerkswho’dturnhotandcoldlikeamiserableshower;afterthosewastedyearswithBen,whodangledconditionallovelikeacarrotoutsidemycage;afterthemonthswithColin,whoseuglysideseemedtoblinkonlikealight;herewasAaron,happytoseeme,eagertospendtimewithme.
InmyapartmentIgatheredsomeglassesandabottleofwine.I’dcleanedearlierincasehecameover,butI’dleftitjustmessyenoughforittolookcasual,likeIhadn’ttidiedup.IconnectedmyphonetotheBluetoothspeakerandcuedupsomethingsultry,ahuskyfemalesingerticklingsadpianochords.Thenchurchbellsinthebackground,adissonantfade-out.
Ileanedagainstthesofa’sarmandarcedmykneesoverAaron’slap.Hestrokedmycalf.
“CanIaskyousomething?”
Hetookasipofwine.“Ofcourse.”
“Wereyouraisedreligious?”
Aflickoflaughter.“Yeah,Methodist,butmyparentsneverseemedseriousaboutit.”
Inodded,thinking.“Andareyougladyouhadthat?”
Hecockedaneyebrow.“YouaskingifIwanttoraisemykidswithreligion?”
“OhGod,no,”Ispatout.“Itreallydidsoundlikethat,didn’tit?Iwasjust—”
“It’scool,Emily,relax.”Heranhisfingersovermylegagain,higherthistime,alongthejeans’inseam.
Ihurriedtoexplain:“IwasthinkingaboutitafterseeingKristen’sgrandparentstheotherday.Theystillgotothesamechurchshewenttoasakid.Onetimeshetoldmeherfaithmadeitsomuchharderforherafterherparentsdied,becausehermomwasn’taChristian.SoKristenthoughtshewenttohell.”
“Jesus.”Heshookhishead.“How’dtheydie?”
“Inafire.Shewastwelve.Sosad.”
“Thatissad.”Hethoughtforasecond.“Wasit,like,afreakaccident?Whatstartedthefire?”
“Idon’tknow,whatstartsanyhousefire?Faultywiringorsomething?”
“That’sawful.”Hedrainedhisglass.“Well,Idunnoabouttheheaven-and-hellstuff.IneverreallycaredabouttheMethodistmoralcode,butitwasnicebeingpartofacommunity.”
Amoralcode.Myearliestassociationswithgoodnessandjusticehadn’tcomefromasacredtextbutfromcarefulobservationofwhatgarneredapproval…oratleastdidn’tdrawmyparents’ire.Sex,too,lackedapallofmorality—startingwithBen,whattodo,when,andwithwhomhadallcomedowntowhatmadesensetome,whatfeltright.
ScrewSebastianfortryingtotakethatawayfromme;whatIdidwithmybodywasmydecision,allmine.IsatupandreachedforAaron’sjaw,thenpulledhimgentlytowardme.
“Well,hello.”Histoneborderedongiddy,andIsmiledagainsthislips.
Iruffledhishair,flickedmyheadtowardthebedroom.“Justbegentle,okay?”
Andhewas,hislipsandtongueandfingerssoft,andhepausedtostampmyneckwithkissesandask,againandagain,“Isthisokay?”EverytimeIfeltthefarawaypanicbegintoflare,Iwatchedhisface,theuncomplicatedkindnessthere,andbreatheduntilitsubsided.Breathedlouder,harder,bothofourbreathsrhythmicandsultry,untilallthatexistedwasthefeeling,deepandtenderandraw.
Afterafreeze-frameofstillness,heslidhishandacrossthesweatonmyback.
“Thatwasamazing,”hemurmured,andgavemyassacheerfulslap.Hepaddedintothehallway,andIlistenedtotheminormelodytricklingoutofthelivingroom.
Islippedintoakimonoandsatontheedgeofthebed.Ifeltsexyandwild,andIcongratulatedmybodyonfinallycooperatingpost-Cambodia.Ismoothedmytangledhairandturnedonalamp,thenheadedforthebathroomassoonasIheardhimcomeout.AsIneared,themusicabruptlydroppedout,replacedbythehandbell-likechimethatsignaledanewtext.
I’ddroppedmyphoneonthecoffeetableearlier,andnowIflippeditover.Iscannedthescreentwice,mystomachscrunchingandcrumplinglikeasheetoftinfoil.
TwomissedcallsfromKristen,tenandfourteenminutesago,whenAaronandIwereinbed.
Andjustnow,atext:“Ineedyou.”
CHAPTER17
“Everythingokay?”Aaronpausedinthekitchen’sdoorway,browwrinkled.
Ilookedup.Mybrainskitteredahead:Ishouldcallher.Wait,no.She’dpurposelysaidnothing.ThatmeantitwasaboutCambodiaorChile—definitelynotsomethingIcoulddiscussinfrontofAaron.
Or,hell,onthephoneatall.
“Whatisit?”HecrossedtomeandIdroppedthephonetomyside.
“It’sKristen,”Isaid.“She’s—I’msosorrytodothis,butIhavetogoseeher.”
“Now?”Heshookhishead.“Issheokay?”
Iachedtotellhim,toopenmymouthandletthetruthspewlikepoison.YouwererightaboutsomethinghappeninginChile.AndinCambodia,beforethat.
Myarmscrossedovermybelly.“Yeah,she’s…goingthroughsomethingrightnow.”
“Ohright,shejustgotlaidoff.”Imust’velookedstartledbecauseheadded,“Orsomethingelse?Sorry,Iknowit’snoneofmybusiness.”
“No,I’msorry.Tobeallvagueandtosuddenlyrunoutonyou.”Ilookedaround.“Youcanstay,ifyouwant?DunnohowlongI’llbethere.”
“That’sallright,I’llheadhome.”Aaronliftedmychinandkissedmesweetly,hislipssoft.“Seeyousoon?”
Afoldingfeelinginmychest,adesperatedesiretoblowKristenoffandsinkbackintohisembrace.Ipressedmyeyesclosed,steeledmyself.“Ofcourse.”
—
ICALLEDKRISTENfromabuttononmysteeringwheelassoonasIgotonthefreeway,whichIhadalltomyselfatmidnightonaschoolnight.Ineedyou.Iflickedthroughthepossibilitieslikeachannelsurfer:SomethinghadhappenedwithourCambodiansecret—maybethebodyhadbeenrecovered,bloatedandwaterlogged,orsomeonehaduncoveredsomethinginthehotel,someevidencewe’dmissed.Or—morelikely—ithadtodowithChile,thefreshercover-up,onethathadn’tyetstoodthetestoftime
Ormaybeitwassomuchsimplerthanthat.MaybeshewasfinallyfreakingoutthewayIhadafterCambodia,withoutupheavalatworkandherlast-minutetriptoWisconsintodistracther.Maybeitwasallsinkingin—theattack,thedawninghorrorofwhatshe’ddonetodefendherself,andallthosenightmarishhoursafterward.Aw,Kristen.Myloveforheroozedfrommyheartlikeanegg’ssoftyolk.
“Hi!”Shepickeduprightbeforeitwenttovoicemail.Shesounded…chipper.
“Kristen,hey.I’monmyway.”
“You’rewhat?”
“I’mcomingover.Ifiguredyou…thatisn’twhatyoumeant?”Iswitchedtotherightlaneandslowed.
“Oh,IhadastupidfightwithBillatdinnerandthenIcouldn’tsleepandfeltliketalking.Onthephone.”
Thebaseballstadiumsparkledontheleft;IwasstillclosertohomethantoBrookfield.“Gotit!Itotallyoverreacted.Ithoughtyoumeant…like,youneededme.”
Shelaughed.“Girl,youknowIalwaysdo!”Acrunchingsound.“Areyouclose?Youcanstillcomeover!Sorry,I’mworkingmywaythroughabagofchips.”
Islidontotheoff-ramp,deflatedand—thoughIknewitwasn’tfair—irritated.“It’ssolate,Ibetternot.ButwhathappenedwithBill?”
“Hewasgivingmeshitaboutgettinglaidoff.Zerosympathy.Asifhehasanyideahowthesethingswork—heinheritedhisdad’scompany.”Moremunching.“Iknowyouunderstandwhatthejobmarket’sactuallylikeformillennials.”
“Totally.I’msorry,Kristen.Thatsucks.Hejustdoesn’tgetit.”Ugh,ifI’dknownshedidn’tactuallyneedme,Iwould’veletAaronspendthenight—Iwantedtotexthim,checkifhe’dconsiderheadingback,butmyphonewasn’tinitsnormalspotintheconsole.“Andit’skeepingyouawake?Ajoblossis…big.Itmeritsgrieving.”
“I’mnot,though.Grieving.ScrewLucasandthatgodforsakenjob.”Sheswallowedamouthfulofchipsandhervoicegrewclearer.“It’sjustweirdnotknowingwhatthefuturewillhold.Iguessthat’swhyIcalledyou.You’remyrock.”
“I’mhereforyou,”Ireplied,suddenlyguiltythatIwasonlyhalflistening—thatpartofmymindwasfocusedoncatchingAaronbeforeheturnedhisphoneoffandclimbedintobed.Ataredlight,Ihunchedandgropedaroundthefootwellonthepassengerside.
“AnditwassonicetocatchupinChile,”shewenton,andIwassosurprisedmyfootslippedoffthebrake.Iwhippeduprightandflungmyweightonthepedal.“Allthatuninterruptedconversation,youknow?And,Em,Ifeellikewehaven’ttalkedthatmuchsince.NoKremilydates.”
Kremily—Ihadn’theardthatonesincebeforeshemovedaway,thecheesyportmanteauwe’dmadeupatNorthwestern(ourfriendshipwas,wefigured,easilyaslegendaryasKimyeorSpeidi).
“Wedefinitelyneedsomeone-on-onetime,”Isaid.“I’vebeenworriedaboutyou.”
“Don’tworryaboutme,justhangoutwithme!”Therewasagiggleinhertone.“Tomorrow?”
“Crap,Ican’ttomorrow.”Ihadtherapy,andfeltanotherspearofguiltthatIwashidingthisfromher.But…butwe’reallallowedtokeepafewthingsprivate.“Friday?”
“Wait,whatarewedoingforyourbirthdayonThursday?”
“I’m…well,shoot.ImadeplanswithAaronbeforeyouwerehere.We’rejuststayingin—Idon’tfeellikedoinganythinghugethisyear.”
“Gotit.”Shesoundedsosad,andacringewentthroughme.Iremindedmyselfthatitwasokaytohaveplanswithmyboyfriend.Itwasokaytonotinvitehertoo.Butthenhercheerrebounded:“?‘Nothinghuge,’noted.Yes,ma’am.”
“I’mserious,Kristen.Ihatesurprises.”
“Thengoodthingyouloveme.Anyway,I’llletyougo.”
Ibidhergoodnightand,inarush,triedAaron:straighttovoicemail.
Athome,Igotreadyforbedwithmybrowknit,mymouthdownturned,feelingI’ddisappointedeveryone.Ialmostlaughedatmystupidreverieatthebowlingalley—suchhubris,thinkingIcouldletmyguarddown.
Someday,I’dnolongerlieinbedatnightcatalogingallthedetails,thereasonswe’dbecaught:witnessesattheleafybar,theshallowgrave,ourfootprintsinthedark,thelightofawindowaswethrustshovelsinashed.Someday,thosehoursonthemountainsidewouldtakeonaneerie,cinematicquality,likeahorrormovieI’dseen.
Butdefinitelynottoday.
—
PRIYAPLUNKEDAcupofcoffeeonmydeskandIjumped.
“Icouldtellyouneededit.”
“Aw,thankyou.Thatobvious?”
“Absolutely.”Theseatnexttominewasemptyandshedroppedintoit,spunlazily.“Sowhatisit?Hangover?Insomnia?Yourperiod?”
“D,noneoftheabove.”Ifinishedanemailandturnedtoher,myvoicelow.“Ihadalatenight.Aaroncameover.”
Adramaticgasp.“ItwasD!EmilygotsomeD!”Sheslidherfootbeneathherandleanedforward.“Howwasit?”
Iblushed,thinkingofhislipsonmyhipbone,kissesassoftasbutterflies.“Itwasgood.Hot.”
“OhmyGod.Idon’tknowhowI’mgoingtolookhimintheeyeatMonaanymore.”Sheflashedherbrows.“Goodwaytodrumupbusinessatthecafé.Keepyouupallnightsoyou’redesperateforcaffeine.”
“You’reridiculous.Andhedidn’tevenstaythenight.”
Hereyeswidened.“Hejustleft?Like,wham,bam,thankyou,ma’am?”
Ishookmyhead.“MyfriendKristencalled,andIthoughtshewantedmetocomeoverbecauseshewasfreakingout,butbythetimeIfiguredoutitwasafalsealarm,Aaronwas…”Itrailedoff.WhywasItellingherthis?Priyadidn’tevenknowKristen;shecertainlydidn’tneedtohearaboutKristen’stizzy,realorimagined.
Mercifullyaco-workershambledoverwithC-suitegossip,somethingaboutRussell-the-wunderkindgettingdrunkandsloppywithapotentialinvestor.Inoddedashespokebutcouldn’tlisten.IfeltlikeIwasinaweirdlovetriangle,withAaronandKristeneachtuggingonanarm.
Ineedyou,she’dtexted.NotPleasecallmeorCanwetalk?OrevenImissyou.
Ashespoke,myco-workerranhispalmoverthebackofhisneck,pastthenubbyponytailthere,andIthoughtofPaoloagain,hisblackponytailmattedinblood.
Mystomachroiled.ThethingaboutKristenwas…
Ineededhertoo.
—
“AREYOUEXCITEDforyourbirthday?”Priyaploppedintotheseatacrossfrommeandtuggedthelidoffhersalad.Wewereatalunchspotthatspecializedinbowls—grain-,greens-,andnoodle-based.
“Iam!”Ishookhotsauceontomyfood.“Itshouldbelow-key.ButIfeellikemyfriendKristenisplottingsomething.”Itorethewrapperfrommybamboosilverware.“Ihatesurprises.”
“Youhatesurprises?Why?”
Thequestion,ironically,caughtmeoffguard.Itookabiteandchewedthoughtfully.“Iguess’causeasurpriseis,bydefinition,outofmycontrol.Iwanttobeabletotrustthat…thatthingsandpeoplearen’tsuddenlygoingtochange.”Ishrugged.“Ilovetravelandnewexperiencesandfindingnewrestaurants,thingslikethat.ButI’mnotago-with-the-flowkindofgirl.AlthoughIwishIwas.Morelaid-backand…spontaneousorwhatever.”Everyonelikedthosekindsofwomen—womenwhoweredown,whoweregame,whowerecool.TheyputeveryoneateaseandshushedtheNervousNellyhissing,Isthissafe?Isthissmart?Dowereallywanttobesurprised?
Maybeguyslikedthosewomenbecausetheyreaffirmedthemen’sworldview:Nothingbadcanhappentome.
“Whatdoyoumeanbynotwantingpeopletochange?’Causeifyouthinkaboutit…”Shepoppedopenherseltzerandshrugged.“Everyone’schangingallthetime.It’slike,theonlythingyoucancounton.”
WasItalkingaboutKristen?Justlastweek,Iwascomingtotermswithourfriendshipgettingadowngrade—acceptingthatninethousandmilesandnotonebuttwohorrificexperienceswouldnudgeusapart.Andthenshe’dshownupandmyhearthadswelledatthesightofher,tendernessandreliefthatshewashere,thatIcouldfinallyberealwiththeonepersonwhoknewwhatwe’dbeenthrough.Butthatsurprisehadgonesidewaystoo:Thingsbetweenusstillfeltstilted.
“MaybeI’mmoreworriednowthatIhaveAaron—like,thingsaregood,soIhavemoretolose,”Isaid.“ItoldyouaboutColin,thisguyIdatedafewyearsback:AtfirstIthoughthewassweet,butthenmybestfriendpointedoutthathewasstartingtoactpossessive.Andthenthere’smyhighschoolandcollegeboyfriend,Ben.Ithoughthewasonewayandheturnedouttobe…badnews.”Iunfoldedanapkin.“Itcaughtmeoffguard.Sothat’sprobablywhyIliketo,youknow.Seedowntheroadaheadofme.”
“That’sright.Weren’tyougoingoutwithBenfor,like,amillionyears?”
“Ha—four.Hisfamilybasicallyadoptedme.”Istabbedapieceofbroccoli.“Heandhisparentsandhislittlebrother—theyallgenuinelyenjoyedspendingtimetogether.Itwasmind-blowing.”
Priyatappedhernailsagainstthecanofseltzer.“Unlikeyourparents?”
“Damn—you’restartingtosoundlikeAdrienne.”
“Sorry!Ilovetalkingaboutpeople’sfamilies.It’sfascinating.”
“It’sfine.I’mjustnotsuremyparentsareallthatinteresting.”
“They’redivorced,right?”
“Yep!TheysplitwhenIwasfifteen.”Momhadbeentheonetotellme,callingmeintothekitchenandbarelylookingupfromthesizzlingpanshewasstirringonthestove.She’dfinishedtheconversationwith:“YouneedtobeonyourbestbehaviorbecauseDadandIaregoingthroughatoughtimerightnow.”
“Andnowyou’reinyourfirstcommittedrelationshipinforever.”Priyapointedherforkatme.“Andyouhavenomodelforahealthyrelationshipthatlasts.God,childrenofdivorcearesuchcommitment-phobes.YouknowI’monetoo,right?”
“Tellmeaboutyourfolks.They’reinMadison,right?”Itfeltnice,openinguptoPriyaaboutsomethingotherthanpersonalgossip,ourco-workers,thenews.Butherwordshadproddedopenanold,deeptrapdoorofinsecurity.WhatifIwasn’tcapableofmakingthingswork—withAaron,withKristen,withanyone?
—
LUCKILY,IHADtherapythatnightinwhichtodissectit.
“Itsoundslikethisisarealsourceofanxietyforyou.”Adrienneseemedsocalmandpresent,likesheneverleftthischair,remainingrootedwhileclientswaftedinandout.
Isnorted.“It’skindofacliché:Myparentssplit,sonowI’mscaredofbeinginaseriousromanticrelationship.”
“Ifyouweretomakeapiechartofallthethingsthatmakeyouanxious,howbigofachunkisthis?”
Mypulsespedandthrobbedinmyneckatthereminder.TherewasahugestressorIwasavoidingintherapy,byfarthelargestsliceofthepie:Paolo’sfleshrottingunderafewinchesofdirt.Bloodstainssmearedacrossthefloorandshowercurtain.Potentialwitnessesatthebar,thehotel,thelongroadbackintheduskypredawn.
Butwe’refocusingonmyrelationshipshere.
“Well,it’sabiggerchunknowthatAaronandIareofficiallytogether.”Ifutzedwithmynecklace.“It’sweird,partofmefeelslikegettingclosewithAaronmeansabandoningKristen.Eventhoughthere’snoreasonIcan’thaveabestfriendandaboyfriend.”
“Whydoesitfeellikeabandoningher?”
“She’s…Itoldyou,she’slikeasistertome.She’sallI’veneededforsolong.”
“Allyou’veneeded,”sherepeated.“Doyouseewhythat’salottoputonanyoneperson?”
“YouthinkI’mtoodependentonher?”
“I’mnotmakingjudgmentsaboutyou.OraboutKristen.”Sheleanedback.“ButIwantyoutothinkaboutwhatahealthysupportsystemlookslike.Onethat’s…diversified.ThewayyoutalkaboutAaron,itsoundslikehe’sareallypositivepersoninyourlife.”
Igaveaferventnod.
“That’sgreat,thatthere’sanotherpersonyoucancounton.AndofcourseyournewrelationshipisgoingtoshakeupyourandKristen’sdynamic.It’snormalandhealthyforfriendshipstochange,butthere’softensomepushback.”
Ipressedmylipstogether.“Ithinkyou’reright.”Icouldfeelmyfacecontorting,crumplingaroundtheuglyfear:I’dbeabadgirlfriendtoAaronandabadfriendtoKristen.I’dwindupsadandalone,withguiltbloodyingmyinsidesandnightmarishmemoriesstainingmydays.
“Idon’twanttoscrewthingsup,”Isaid.“Ihatescrewingup.”Jesus,ofallpeopletoberunningaroundwithtwohomicidesintheirpast…
“Wouldyoucallyourselfaperfectionist?”
“Oh,onethousandpercent.Evenasakid,Iwassuchagoodytwo-shoes.Allmyreportcardssaid,‘apleasuretohaveinclass.’?”
“Sonotmuchofarebel?Evenasateenager?”
Iwinced—today,Iwasstillamodelcitizen,exceptforthetwoenormousstainsonmyrecord.“Igotintroublewithmyparentssometimes,”Iadmitted.“Especiallymydad.Hecouldbe…unpredictable.”
Asachild,IseemedtoattracttheirattentiononlywhenIdidsomethingwrong,oftenwithoutrealizingit.Oneofmyearliestmemorieswasofsinging“ThisIstheSongThatDoesn’tEnd”atthetopofmylungsasIranupanddownthestairs,athree-year-oldwhirlingdervish.Icanstillrememberthebright,sharpconfusionasmyfatherstoppedmeinmytracksandspankedmytinybuttocks.Thememoryfilledmewithsteamyshame,tootender-hottotellAdrienne.
“Andyourmom?”
Iscrapedatmyfingernails.“Wegotalongokay.Whentheysplitup,IthoughtmaybesheandIwouldbecomeclose.ButovertimeIstartedtoseehowshe…shewasn’treallyinmycornereither.WhenImovedout,IkindofrealizedIdidn’tneedthem.Like,Iwasformingmyownfamily.Withpeoplewhoactuallycaredaboutme.LikeKristen.”
Closerthanasister,theonlyonewholovedmeunconditionally.Who’driskherlifeforme,who’dsacrificeherownsleepandwell-beingtonursemethroughmypain.
Myinsidescontracted:Ishould’vekeptondrivingwestlastnight,Ishould’vecontinuedontoBrookfieldjusttogiveherahug.Howselfishofme,turningaroundtotrytogetAaronbackinmybed.
Adriennesetherpendown.“DoyoubelieveyouneedtobeperfecttodeserveKristen’sfriendship?”
Guiltstreamedthroughme.“Imean,she’saprettyperfectfriend.We’realready…kindamismatchedwithhowgoodsheistome.”
Shepursedherbrow.“Idon’tknowKristen,soI’mnotsayingthisisgoingon.”Sheflippedoverhernotebook.“Butinsomerelationships,PersonAseemslikethey’redoingmoreworkthanPersonB,butPersonAwantsitthatway.Theylikebeingthecaretaker,soitservesthemtokeepPersonBinthatneedyrole.Doesthatresonateforyou?”
Noway.Thethoughtfilledmybellywithdiscomfort:Kristenkeepingmedown,findingpleasureinmyhelplessness.“Ireallydon’tthinkKristenandIarelikethat,”Isaidloudly.“Webothwanttheotherpersontofeelstrong.And,like,therearetimeswhenI’vehadtopropheruptoo.”LikethoselonelyhoursintheElquiValley,thenightwhenI’dchampedupandtakenchargeasdeathhoveredintheairaroundus.
“Okay.”Anotherserenenod.“Perfectionismkeepscomingupwhenyoutalkaboutyourrelationships.Doyouagree?”
“Totally.It’ssodestructive.Kristenhaspointedouthowself-sabotagingmyperfectionismcanbe.”
Shepeeredatmeforamoment,thenglancedathernotebook.“It’scommonamongchildrenofparentslikeyours.Butit’sdangerous,tyingyourworthtonevermakingamistake.Canwetryavisualizationexercise?”
Inodded,uneasebrewinginmychest.
“Iwantyoutocloseyoureyesandpicturetheworstthingyou’veeverdone.Atimeyouwereanythingbutperfect.Reallypictureyourpastselfgoingthroughthemotions.Takeaminuteto…”
Hervoicefadedasthescenecueduparoundme:Sebastianyankinghishandawayfrommymouth,shockinhiseyesasblooddrippedfromhispalmwhereI’dbittenit.Therelentlessness,thefuryinKristen’sgazeasshetookSebastiandownStop.Stop.Stop.Blood,somuchblood,surgingalloverthefloor,morethanasingleskullshouldhold,likehisheadwasajugofsloshingwine.
It’shappening.Mylungswerecollapsing,deflating,balloonswiththeairleakingout.Myheartbeatwildly,myfingersclawedatmypurse—lungsonfire,asinglethoughtblaringlikeanemergencyalertsystem:AIR,AIR,AIR.
Ishovedmyinhalerintomymouthandpressedhard.Ahhh.Withtheseconddose,InoticedAdriennehadstoodandwasloomingoverme,herfacetwistedinconcern.
“I’mfine,”Itoldher,snappingthecapbackontothemouthpiece.
Butdideitherofusbelieveit?
CHAPTER18
Iwokeuponmybirthdaywithbutterfliesinmystomach—excitement,yes,butanxietytoo.NotbecauseIwasthirty(stillyoung,whatever)butbecauseIhadafeelingKristenhadplannedsomethingunexpected.Theapprehensionwaslikeorange-redcoals,threateningtoignite.Whathadshesaidaboutwomen’sintuition?Weseethingsmenmiss?
Ifloppedontomysideandunpluggedmyphone.AdelugeofbirthdaygreetingsonFacebook;textsfrombothparentsaswellassomefriends.Avideofromahighschoolpal,stillupinMinneapolis—hertwintoddlersshouting,“Happybuff-day,Emiry!”
NothingfromAaron,oddly.OrKristen.Yet.
Ipaddedintothekitchenandstartedupthecoffeemaker.Asitbrewed,IturnedonNPR:AMissourimanhadthrownacidonacongregantoutsideaSikhtemple.Horrible.Anutjob,mymomwouldsaywithashakeofherhead.And,okay—nothealthy,I’dgiveherthat,notemotionallycontrollednorself-actualized.Butwhatifmonsterswalkamongusandtheyaren’tnutjobs?Sebastianwasaseeminglynormalguywhogrewangry,soangry,hecouldhavekilledme.Angerisn’tamentalillness.Mayberegularpeopledoterriblethingsallthedamntime.
ThedoorbellrangandIopenedthedoortoaskinnyguyincargoshorts,holdingapackageoutinfrontofhim.Theboxhadamoist,loamysmellandIspottedthebrandingontop:BurleighBlooms.
IsmiledasIcarrieditintothekitchenandhackedatthetape,thenpulledoutabundleofwhitecallalilies,assmoothandcrispasluxehotellinens.HadAaronsentthese?That’dmakehimthefirstboytodososinceBen,backinhighschool,whenheshowedupatoursix-monthanniversarywithamammothbouquetfromthegrocerystore.Ifishedaroundforacardandpulleditfromitsnavyenvelope.
SurprisesmaynotbeyourthingButsinceyouwerenotansweringMypleatomakesomebirthdayplans,Itookitintomyownhands.Sofinishbreakfastandyourjoe,Headtowork,andoffwego.—K
Ihadtohandittoher—thoughIhatesurprises,Idoenjoyariddle.Kristenknewmybrainsowell,hersandminewerelikethematchinghalvesofaheartnecklace.“Breakfastandjoe”—thatwastheclue,agranulardetailinasingsongprelude.Isetmyemptymuginthesinkandflungopenmycabinets,thenmyfridge,riflingaroundmydishes,insidethesmoothbagofcoffeegrounds,underaneggcarton’slid.
Nothing—andIhadtogettotheoffice.Ileanedoverthesink,thecounterdiggingintotheheelsofmyhands.
PRIYAISWAITING
Itwasfaintlyvisibleinthebottomofmydirtymug,tinyblockletterslikesomethingprintedout.Ipluckedoutaplastickydiscandranitunderthetap,andthewordsgrewclearer:invisibleink.Nervesbristledupmyspine.HowhadKristenknownI’dusethismugtoday?And,Jesus—mychestfrozeover—howdidshegetintomykitchentoplantthis?
Asoftthwockbehindmemademewhirlaroundsofast,therugskiddedbeneathmyfeet.Asingleflowerhadrolledoffthecounterandlandedonthetile.Itlaythereinitssculpturalbeautylikeawhiteflag,adeaddove,aCalatravamemorialtothedead.
Irubbedmytemples.Itwasgoingtobealongday.
—
RAINSLAPPEDTHEwindshieldasIdrovetowork.NomatterhowmanytimesIchangedlanes,Iwasalwayscaughtinabigrig’swake,poundedbyatorrentialroostercomb.Ontheradio,acalm-soundingreporterannouncedthatamanhadbeenarrestedinasextraffickingcase.Policefoundziptiesandducttapeinhiscar,sheintoned,rightasmytiresbegantohydroplane.Isailedahead,myheartasuddensnaredrumroll.ThewheelsfoundpurchaseandIlingeredatastopsign.
Ziptiesandducttape.Whowoulddothat?Whatwentthroughhisheadashedrovetowork,suppliesrollingaroundinthetrunk?
Ipausedinthelobby,wetandwilted.
“Hi,Jeffrey,”Icalledtotheguyatthesecuritydesk.Hehadarindofgrayhairandhangdogeyes.“Reallycomingdownoutthere.”
Buttoday,aswitheveryday,hedidn’treply.Iploddedtowardtheelevator,apuddleunspoolingonthefloorbehindme.
Upatmydesk,Priyatrottedoverwithamassivecupcake.“Happybirthday!”shecried,presentingitwithbothhands.
“Thankyou!Isthismynextclue?”
Herimpishsmileconfirmedit.
“SoitturnsoutIdidn’tevenneedtofindthefirstone.”Ipeeledbackthewrapper.“Anddrinkcoffeemixedwithmysteriousinvisibleink.”
“Kristentoldmetobringthisrightover.Incaseyoudidn’tfindthefirstclue.”Shepressedherpalmstogether.“Thisisfun—Ihaven’tdoneanythinglikethissincemysororitydays.”
“Whichwasallof,like,twoyearsago.”Ipulledapartthecupcake’sbaseandpluckedsomethingwaxyfromitscenter.Afoldedslipofparchmentpaper—Priyaleanedovermyshouldertoreadit:
Already,she’sKibblingthroughherepicday!OutonRogers,Mona’sassemblingnuttylattes.WilltheygetherorderrightAndmakeabeveragetodelight?
“Allright,soyou’rehereatKibble,”Priyaproclaimed,armscrossed,“andCaféMonaisonRogersStreet,andthat’swhereyoualwaysgetalatte.Areyousupposedtogotherenext?Ooh,thanks!”Shetookthecupcakehalffrommyoutstretchedhand.
“Maybe?Itseemsabitobvious.AndIdon’tgetnuttylattes—Igetoatmilk.Shutup.”Wegiggledatmymilksnobbery.Irereadit.“Therhythmisweirdtoo.Withthefirsttwolines.”
Russellcruisedintotheoffice,thickblondhairbopping.
“Ishouldprobablyatleastturnonmycomputer,”Priyasaid.
“Same.Hopefullythiscanwait.”Itossedtheslipofpaperontomydesk.
“Iwantplay-by-plays—thisisthemostexcitingthingthat’shappenedatworksinceabadbatchofspinachsickenedcatsaaaallovertheEasternSeaboard.”Sheflourishedherpalm.
“OhGod.Let’shopemybirthdaydoesnotendwithcatdiarrhea.”
Iansweredsomeemailswhilepolishingoffthecupcake.WhenIpickedupthescrapagain,sugarzappingthroughmyblood,Ialmostlaughedaloud:
Already,she’sKibblingthroughherepicday!OutonRogers,Mona’sassemblingnuttylattes.
Thefirstlettersofthefirstwords:A-S-K-T-H-E-D-O-O-R-M-A-N.Igrabbedmybuildingpassandheadedfortheelevator.
Jeffreyleveledablank,rheumystareatmeinsteadofanswering,thenshuffledovertohisdeskandproducedasmallstuffedanimal.Itwasacat—blackandwhiteandafewinchestall.Ithankedhimandturneditoverinmyhands,lookingformore.KristenandIbothlikedcats,butwehadnospecialassociationswiththem.MyjobatKibble—wasthattheclue?
Upstairs,thetoy’sshinyblackeyeswatchedmeasIworked.Thescavengerhunthoveredovermyshoulders:KristenandIhadn’tcommunicatedincodelikethissincecollege.Wasthereadeeperimplicationhere?
AtextfromKristen:“Happybirthday,mybeautifulfriend!How’syourday?”
Ihesitatedforasecond,thenwrote,“Thankyou!Icannotbelieveyouwenttoallthistrouble,youpuzzle-makinggenius!”Ipickedupthecatagain.
Thistime,InoticedthatwhatI’dtakentobeabluecollarwasactuallyathinstripoffabric.Iunwoundit(likeanoose,Ithought,oragarrote)andspreaditacrossmydesk.
Ohhey,theFourthexcitingclue!//Soonyouwillgetyourproperdue.//Yes,nowtheshowboatingmustend//BeforeIovermilkthistrend.//You’veshownalottalogichere//Theendingisnowdrawingnear.
“Getyourproperdue,”“showboatingmustend,”“endingdrawingnear”…whatdiditsayaboutmygeneralemotionalstatethatitallsoundedominous?
Priyapoppedby,hercheeksflushwithexcitement.Shefurrowedherbrowatthebluesnippet.
“Ihavenoidea,”sheannounced,leaningback.“Y’allaretoofancyforme.”
“It’sweirdthatFourthiscapitalized,right?That’sgottameansomething.”
“Itisweird,sinceotherwisetherearen’treallyanytypos.Thistoo.”Shepinnedthestripunderherfinger.“?‘Overmilk’—thatshouldbehyphenated.”
“It’sanoddphrase,‘over-milkthistrend.’Youdon’treallymilkatrend.”Istaredforasecond,feelingthepiecesslideintoplacethewaythepinsalignonapickedlock.IgrabbedaSharpieandscratchedatthefabric:
Ohhey,theFourthexcitingclue!//Soonyouwillgetyourproperdue.//Yes,nowtheshowboatingmustend//BeforeIovermilkthistrend.//You’veshownalottalogichere//Theendingisnowdrawingnear.
Ichuckled.“Getoatmilklotta—latte—now.Thefourthwordofeveryline.”
Priyaclappedherhands.“Goseeyourman!”
Imadeherpromisetocoverforme,thenskiddedoutontoRogersStreet.Therainhadstoppedandthesunsquintedbetweentheclouds.IwasalmosttoCaféMona’sdoorwhenIrememberedAaronwouldn’tbethere—hemostlyworkedafternoons
Well,crap.DidIhavetofindanotherclueinsidethecoffeeshop?Inside,IpausedandpicturedKristenhangingoutherebeforeplantingthenextriddle,insidemybeautiful,impenetrableCaféMona—slungacrossthemismatchedchairsandlumpysofas,wrappingherfingersaroundtheirfat,chippedmugs.Itfeltincongruous,amismatchedcollage.
Aaronwasthere,ensconcedinagreenarmchairandburiedinabook.AsmilestretchedacrosshisfaceasIheadedtowardhim.
“Well,ifitisn’tthebirthdayqueen!”Hestoodtokissme,thenwrappedmeinahug.Myshoulderseasedandmyheartrateslowed.“Havingagoodday?”
“Yep!”Isat.“I’mseveralcluesdeepintoKristen’sscavengerhunt.Didsheloopyouintoit?”
“Suredid!”Heleanedforward.“Whataretheotherclues?”
Ipulledthemoutofmypurseonebyone;Aaronkeptshakinghishead,astonished.He’dbeentheonetoplanttheinvisible-inkcircleinsidethemugandslideittothefront,Ilearned.NotKristen.
“Andcometothinkofit,thiscluewasfoolprooftoo.”Ihandedhimthebluestrip.“IfIdidn’tcatchthedoormanbitandtookthecupcakeoneliterally,I’dstillenduphere.Kristenthoughtofeverything.”
“What,doesshethinkyou’renotassmartasher?”Thejokehungintheairforamoment.Thescavengerhuntdidfeelalittlelikeatacitdeclaration:NobodyknowsyourbrainlikeIdo.Butno,itwasalaboroflove,nothingmore.Notareminderthatshewouldalwaysoutwitme,alwayshavetheupperhand.
Aaronheldoutasmall,neatlywrappedrectangle.“Foryou!”
“Thisissosweet!Ithoughtdinnerwasthegift.”Aaronhadofferedtocookformethatevening—candlelight,clothnapkins,thewholenineyards.
Ashadowflashedacrosshiseyes,andthenheshrugged.“Icouldn’twait!”
Awhitebox,creamyandsmooth.Iliftedthelid,thenpeeledbackafoldofgossamerypaper.
Theroomfellsilent.AllIcouldhearwasmyheartbeatinginmyears.
Becausewhatwasinsidewasimpossible.IthadbeenstolenfrommybagthatawfulnightinQuiteria,Chile.
Insidetheboxwasthegreenleatherwallet.
CHAPTER19
Myfingerssprangopenandtheboxclatteredtothefloor,tissuepapercrinkling.Igaspedandlungedforit;Aarondidthesame,andourheadsbonkednearourknees.
“Sorry!I’msuchaklutz.”Isettheboxonmylapandheldthewallet.Oncloserinspection,itwasn’texactlythesame.Thezipperwasdifferent,thecardslotsverticalinsteadofhorizontal.Still:freakishlysimilar.
“It’ssomystyle,”Isaid,whichwastrue,andforcedasmile.“Thankyousomuch,Aaron.”
“Kristenhelpedmepickitout!”hesaid.“ShesaidyougotpickpocketedinChile.Thatsucks—youdidn’ttellmethat.”
Arushofcold,likeatapturnedoninmychest.Whatelsehadshetoldhim?“Iwasembarrassed—Ileftmypurseopeninabarlikeadummy.Butthisissothoughtfulandperfect.Thankyou.”
“I’mgladyoulikeit!”Icouldtellhedidn’ttotallybelieveme.Ileanedinforakiss.
“Didyoulookinside?”
“OhGod,arewenotattheendyet?”Iunzippedthewalletandnosedmyfingersintoeachcompartment.Thereitwas:acrispdollarbillwithKristen’stinycursiveacrossthefront.Ireaditaloud:
Beforeweconcludethis,Ijusthavetoask:Whohandlesthehandler’smasterfultask?Whodebeardsthebarberandcooksforacook?Whoburiesadiggerandstealsfromacrook?
Whomakesupabarrister’sultimatewill?Nowseekoutthepersonwhojustfitsthebill.
MybreathcaughtinmythroatandIwasmomentarilyspeechless.Buriedbodies.Stolenwallets.Willsforthedearlydeparted.FriendsandfamiliesandnextofkinspangledacrossSouthAfricaandSpain,beggingforcluestotheyoungmen’swhereabouts.
ButAaronmistookmyhorrorforpuzzlement.“Sorry,can’thelpyou—Ican’tevendoasudoku.Aneasyone.”
Ichewedonmylip.“It’skindofmorbid,right?Buryingandstealingandwritingwills?”Myheartthumpedinmywristsandneck.
Aaronpluckedthebillfrommyhand.“It’ssortalike,‘Don’tbullshitabullshitter.’Itaskswhodoesthethingforwhoeverdoesitprofessionally.”Hepointed.“Cookingforacook,makingupalawyer’swill.Wouldn’tthatjustbe,like,anothercook?Andanotherlawyer?”
Ifeltitsnapintoplace.“Letmeseethatagain.”Aaronwatched,grinninginanticipation.“Ohright,duh.‘Whodebeardsthebarber.’It’safamouslogicalparadox:Ifabarber…that’sit,ifabarberexclusivelyshaveseverytownsmanwhodoesn’tshavehimself,whoshavesthebarber?”
Hefurrowedhisbrow.“Notthebarber?”
“Hecan’t,becauseheonlyshavesmenwhodon’tshavethemselves.Sothere’snosolution—aparadox.It’sathoughtexercise.KristenandIlearnedaboutitinthisphilosophyclasswetook.Iforgetwhatit’scalled.”
ButAaronhadhisphoneout.“IsitRussell’sparadox?”
“That’sit!”Imethishigh-five.Andthenthefinalrealizationclunked.“OhmyGod.Russell.Myboss,Russell.DoyouthinkI’msupposedtotalktohim?”
Aaron’sshouldersshookwithsilentlaughter.“Well,wouldKristenhavetheballstocallhimup?Tellhimwhattodo?”
“Shewould.”Theboxwithitsprettygreenghostinsideslippedoffmylapagain,andIcaughtitbeforeithittheground.“Sheabsolutelywould.”
—
BACKATMYdesk,Ihesitated.Aaronhadprocuredawalletandalongwithit,someintelonChile,complimentsofKristen—thestoryofthepickpocket,somethingI’dkeptfromhim.Whatwouldcropupinthisconversationwithmyboss?
IlingeredinthedoorwayofRussell’sglass-frontedoffice,thengavetheframeatimidknock.Hestarted,thenbrokeintoagrin.
“Wordonthestreetisit’syourbirthday!”
“Therumorsaretrue.”
“Well,happybirthday.Bigplans?”
Ishookmyhead.“Justdinnertonight.And…afriendofminesetupacutetreasurehuntforme.”
“Kristen!Sheisoneconvincinglady.Andagreatfriend,becauseshegotyouadayandahalfoff.”
Iwasquietforamoment.“Wait,what?”
“Yourweekendstartsnow.Don’ttelltheothersoreveryonewillbewantingthesametreatment.Butifyoukeepaneyeonemailtomorrow,we’llcallitworkfromhome.”Hewinked,andIcontinuedtogawp.
“So…Ishouldgohome?”
“IthinkKristenhasbiggerplansthanthat.Butyeah,getouttahere.Enjoyyourbirthday.”Hewavedandturnedhisattentionbacktohisscreen.
Biggerplans?Aaronwasmakingmedinnertonight;I’dagreedtohangoutwithKristentomorrow,Friday.AndthingswithKristenwerestillso…strange,especiallythewayshezippedofflikeadragonflywheneverItriedtotalktoher,head-on,aboutChile.Trepidationstirred,withwhite-hotguiltonitsheels:Kristenplannedthisbig,intricatetreasurehuntbecauseshelovesyou.Whatevershe’sgotinmind,it’sprobablyawesome.
IcalledherasItraversedtheparkinglot.“Dude!WhatonEarthdidyousaytoRussell?”
Shegiggled.“Ijustremindedhimwhatanassetyouaretothecompany.Areyouonyourwayhome?”
“Leavingnow.”
“I’llbewaitingforyou!”shecried,thenhungup.
—
ALEXUSSUVhunchedonthecurbinfrontofmyapartment,andlittleblossomsfromadogwoodtreepowderedthewindshield.KristenclimbedoutasIsteppedintothewarmair.
“Happybirthdaaay!”Shethrewherarmsaroundme.
“Thankyouuuuu,”Isangback.“Ican’tbelieveyougotmeoutofwork!What’stheplan?”Wasthisit,theclimaxofherintricateplot?
“We’regoingUpNorth!”Sheopenedherpalmstothesky.“ToNanaandBill’slakehouse!Thisisgonnabesofun!”
Itflashedbeforeme:abroadcabinwithfloor-to-ceilingwindows,setlowonaspitoflandjuttingoutintoLakeNovak.ThehousewasbuiltfrompinesstackedlikeLincolnLogs,withavast,vaultedatriumandbedroomsinaringonthesecondfloor.I’dvisitedwithKristenafewtimesincollegeandshortlyafter,andhadmostlyforgottenaboutitsince.
Mymouthhungopen.“We’regoingnow?”
“Yep!”KristenwavedtowardtheLexus.“Billletmeborrowhiscar.Iknowhowmuchyouloveitthere.”
Shewasright,thewholeareamademyheartsmile:windingcountryroadsetchedintothickforests,ajumbleoflakeswithjustafewmilesbetweenthem,liketheywereholespokedbyagiant.Ancientevergreensstretchinghundredsoffeettowardthesky,maplesandoaksfillinginallthenegativespace.
Butrightnow,mychestwascompressingatthethought.Afinchoverheadstoppedsingingandswoopedontothehoodofmycar,andthefearcrystallized:Wasitreallyagoodideaforustoleavetowntogether?Lately,travelingasaduohadledtochaos—asifthetwoofus,untetheredfromourhomes,wereabeaconforcruelty.
Andanyway,IhadplanswithAarontonight.
“Iwasactuallysupposedto—”
“Don’tworry,ItalkedtoAaron.Thisweekend,Ihaveyoualltomyself!”
“Oh!Washe…okaywiththat?”
Herfacedarkenedforasecond,likeitwasonadimmerswitch.MystomachtwistedasIwonderedwhattoneshe’dtakenwithhim,whatshe’dsaidinconversationsIwasn’tprivyto.Sharingthepickpocketstory,guidinghimtowardalook-alikewallet.Informinghimthathisplanswerecanceled,thatI’dbehersonthenightofmybirthday.Butthenshegrinned.“Ofcourse.Heistrulysuchasweetheart.”Shegesturedtowardmyfrontdoor.“Let’sgetyoupacked,yeah?Beatrushhour?”
Istaredather.Toolong.Ithoughtbrieflyofpushingback,ofsayingno,ofsuggestingwesetouttomorrow,nottoday.ButIknewIcouldn’tresist.SurpriseswerelikemineshaftsandI’djuststeppedintoone;theonlypathwasdownwardintothechillydark.
—
LAKENOVAKWASthreehoursnorthofMilwaukee—twoonI-43andthenanotheroncountryroads,passingthroughtinydowntownsthatwerelikeknotsonastring.BlackCreek,Bonduel,Cecil,Mountain,eachasuddenburstofsupperclubs,hardwarestores,anduglybars,beersignscrowdingthewindows.Westoppedforburgersandfrozencustard(“Getthepeanut-buttersundae—it’syourbirthday!”)andwatchedbillboardsrollbyasstripmallsandfast-foodjointsturnedtoundulatingfieldsofcornandsoyandwheat.Thejourneytuggedatmysenseofdéjàvu,andwithasickeningpunchIfiguredoutwhy:We’dbeenjustlikethis,Kristeninthedriver’sseat,theroadunfurlingoutfrontasrowsofcropsruffledbesideus,whenwemadeourwaytoQuiteria.
HavingKristenhereinWisconsinshouldbeadream,butIcouldn’trelax.Ourtogethernessfeltlikeplayingwithfire,likeflickingalightercloserandclosertoacloudofgasoline.Whatiffatestruckathirdtime?Whatifahandsyguyattackedherandweweredisposingofabodyonceagain?MuchasIhatedtoadmitit,Iwasgladshewasstayingwithhergrandparentsandnotwithme.Gratefulforthefifteen-plus-milecushion.
IsentAaronanapologyforpushingbackourplans,andherepliedwitharunof“Havefun!”texts—hewaseitherfinewithmyditchinghimorfakingitwell.Atfirstitseemedoddthathe’dgivenKristenhisblessing,butthenIrealizedhedidn’thavemuchofachoice:Couldthebrand-newboyfriendreallysaynotothebestfriendsincecollege?Kristenhadturnedonmenformuchless.
LikeColin.Ihadn’tfeltasstronglyabouthimasIdidAaron,butI’dlikedhiminthatzippy,belly-butterfliesway,andfoundmyselfmentallycrochetingourcoupledomintothefuture:springpicnics,summerweddings,hayridesandpumpkinpatches,elegantholidayparties.I’dintroducedhimtoKristen,excitedly,andshe’dseemedtolikehimtoo
UntilheandIhadourfirstfight.Itwasovertext,andwhileotherfriendstowhomI’dsentthescreenshotstoldmetogivehimthebenefitofthedoubt,Kristenhadtakenaverydifferentstance:“Oh,hellno.”Thoughherproclamationsstung,I’dfeltgratefulforthelackofpussyfootingandsoothedbyhersolidarity;afterall,iftheroleswerereversed,she’dwantmetogiveittoherstraight.AndsoI’dendedthingswithColin.Confidentitwastherightcall,becauseshe’dneversteeredmewrong.Butnow…
Iopenedmytexts,tiltingmyscreenawayfromKristeninwhatIhopedwasanonchalantlean,andforthefirsttimeinyearsIpulledupmyfinalexchangewithColin.MyeyeswidenedasIrereadit:Wasthatwhatithadalwayssaid?Colinhadaskedifwewerestillonfordrinks,withsomecuteemojis,andI’dunthinkinglysaidIwastooswampedwithwork.He’drepliedwithsadfaces,somefrustrationthatIhadn’tgivenhimmorewarning(Whydidn’tIgivehimmorewarning?),andI’ddisappearedfortenminutes—Icouldpictureitnow,pollingfriends,crowdsourcingmynextmove,myheartthrumminglikeahummingbird—andthenI’drepliedwithaweirdlyformaltext:“Colin,yourangerandlackofrespectformytimeareunacceptable.Pleasedon’tcontactmeagain.”
NowmycheeksflushedasIscannedhisshocked,confusedreplies.I’dfeltsoconfidentsendingthat,usingKristen’ssuggestedlanguagealmostverbatim.Inhindsight,I’dsoundedlike…well,Ihatedthesexistterm,butI’dsoundedlikeacrazybitch.
Abruptly,therollingfieldsyieldedtodensewoods,soweweretunnelingthroughthetrees.IlookedatKristenandtookadeepbreath.Relax,Emily.MaybeIwasstillrememberingwrong.Maybetherewasmorecontext,moretelltalesignsofpossessivenessthanthetexttranscriptshowed—it’dbeenfiveyears,afterall.
Andhey,thiswasexactlywhatI’dwanted:uninterruptedtimewithKristen,thechancetoreconnect,todiscussallthethingswe’dshovedundertherugfromChileandCambodia.Plottingatreasurehunt,involvingmyfriends,planningaweekendaway—itwasallsokind,soselfless,soKristen.SowhydidIfeelsouncomfortable?Thesatelliteradiocutout,droppingthepopsongKristenwassingingalongto.Sheliftedherphonefromtheconsole.
“Here—cellserviceisgonnagoinandout,too,butIhaveatonofmusicdownloaded.”Shehelditout.“DJ’schoice.”
Iwasperusingartistswhenatextcamethrough,aflashofgreenandjoltofvibration,sothatIcouldn’thelpbutreadit.Istaredatitinconfusionandfeltmypulsetickinginmyhandsandribs.ItwasfromsomeoneKristenhadputinherphoneasCindyBroker:
Kristen:Congratulations,GrandManagementServiceshasapprovedyourapplicationfor450ParklandLane#2.Whenwouldyouliketocomeintotheofficetosignthelease?
450ParklandLane.Iknewexactlywherethatwas.
IpassedtheForRentsigneveryday.
Itwasablockandahalffrommyapartment.
CHAPTER20
“Youjustgotatext,”Isaid.“Fromyour…broker?”
“OhmyGod,what’dshesay?”
Ireaditaloud,thenlookedover.Kristenwasbeamingaswewhippedaroundacurve.
“Ididn’twanttotellyouuntilitwasfinal,”shesaid,“butI’mofficiallymovingback!”
“Whoa!”Istaredoutthewindshield.Onthesideoftheroad,acloudoffliesfurredaflattenedraccoon.EventuallyIshookmyhead.“Soyouroldbosswasn’tabletogetyouintoanotherdepartment?”
“Y’know,IrealizedI’mdonewithSydney.”
“Wow.”Isnatchedmywaterbottlefromacupholder.“Whatareyougonnadoforwork?”
“Well,nowshe’stryingtofigureoutawaytobringmebackintotheMilwaukeeoffice!”Kristenflashedanopenmouthedsmilemyway,likethiswasamazing!
“Wow,”Isaidagain.Suddensunlighttoreintothewindows;thetreeshereweresnappedinhalf,alljuttingoutthesameway.Theylookedlikebrokenbones.
“Tornado,”Kristensaid,followingmygaze.“Lastsummer.Hundred-mile-an-hourwinds.”
“Jeez.”Ilookedather.Iwashappy,truly,butnotintheuncomplicatedwayshewas.Isodesperatelywantedtomatchherexcitementlevel.Iwantedtositmyemotionsdownandbullythemintocompliance.“Ican’tbelieveyou’removingback!”
“I’mreadyforachange.IdidalmosttwoyearsinAustralia.Peopledon’tunderstandhowfaritisfromeverything.EvenAsiais,like,fifteenhoursaway.”
“Damn.”Inodded.“Well,that’sgreat,then!”
“AndwaittillyouseethisplaceIfound—it’ssocuteandsoclosetoyou!”
“Awesome!”Whywerethingssoweirdbetweenusrightnow?WhatIwouldn’tgivetoregainthefeelingofclosenesswe’dhadinChile,pre-Paolo,thetwoofustogetherinasafe,warmwomb.IwanteditthewayI’dwantedtofallbackinlovewithBenallthoseyearsago,beforehehitme—whenthebiggestproblemwasthatIfeltnothing.Now,allIfeltwasaheavy,hoveringanxiety.
Relax,Emily.Withalittlepatience,we’dgetthroughthisroughpatchandgobacktobeingKremily.SheandAaronwouldgrowclose,too,andmyMilwaukeelifewouldfeelcomplete.
Andthisweekendinthewoods?Itwouldbegoodforus,aperfectplacetostart
Kristenclearedherthroat.“Hey,youevergonnaturnonsometunes?”
“Right,sorry.”Ichoseanalbum,somethingappropriatelyupbeatandcelebratory,andwewoundthroughtheforestwithoutpassinganothersoul.Maybewereallyweretheonlypeoplealive.
—
WEPARKEDONthebroad,flatpadnearthestreet,thenclambereddownapathcarvedbetweentalltrees—fatfirsandslimbirchesandragged-barkedpopples.Pineneedlescrunchedunderourfeetasweapproachedthefrontdoor.Behindus,thelakewasmagnificent:ripplingandalive,reflectingthebloatofmoss-greenfoliagedirectlyacrossfromus.
Kristenfumbledwiththelockandthenheavedopenthefrontdoor.Thesmellhitmelikeanoldsong:pleasantlymusty,sweetpineandfunk.Shebeganopeningblinds,andassunshinesoakedtheinteriorItookintheantlerchandelier,thegreen-and-cream-stripedsofa,thestackoflogsandoldBonAppétitmagazinespiledbythestoutwoodstove.SheinsistedItakethelargestbedroom,theonewithasoakingtubintheensuitebathroom.Shetookherusualroomdownthehall.
“Andwatchoutforrabbitpoop,”shecalledasIunzippedmybag.“Intheclosetsandstuff.Apparentlyafamilykeepsgettinginandmakingamess.Iwannakillthelittleassholes—theyruinedthesegorgeousmoccasinsIgaveNanaforChristmas.”
“Aw.BunnyjustwantsaniceAirbnb,”Imurmuredtomyself.
Wechangedintobathingsuitsanddraggedlawnchairsouttotheboatdock(nottobeconfusedwithGrandpa’sPier,ontheoppositeendoftheproperty).Ifollowedwaveswithmyeyes,watchedthemscatteraroundlilypads,getpuncturedbyreeds.Anazurebluetdragonfly,prettyasapieceofturquoise,landedonmykneeandcockeditshead.Thisisgoingtobegreat,Ithought.AndhavingKristendownthestreetwillbewonderful.Ineededtostopgirdingmyloinsaroundher.Don’tweelicitwhateverweanticipate?
“Thisplaceissohealing,”Isaid,glancingherway.“Ifeellikeit’salreadyhelpingmereleasesomestuff.FromCambodia.And…Chile.”
Shewasquiet,theonlysoundthewavesslappingagainstthedock.Wouldshefiiinallyopenupaboutit?
“Youknowwhatelseisgoodforthat?”shesaid.Thelawnchaircreakedassherosefromit.“Wine.Let’sruntothegrocerystorebeforeitgetstoocrowded.”
Shestrodetowardthecabin,shouldersloose,hipsswaying.Likesomeonewithoutacareintheworld.
—
ATTHELAKEWOODSupervalu,wezoomedaroundtheaisles,jokingaswepiledthingsintothecart.Wetossedsuppliesfors’moresatopacaseofspikedseltzer,nestledbottlesofwineamongthefixingsforburgersandbrats.KristenselectedtwoT-bonesteaksfromthecase:“Adinnerfitforthebirthdayqueen.”
Backatthecabin,wechitchattedasweputthegroceriesaway—mundanestuff,purposelyavoidinganythingaboutChileorCambodiathistime.ItfeltsonormalthatforasecondIforgotaboutthepast,therough-skinnedmenwho’dattackedus,theliveswe’dsnuffedout,thepeoplewhowerelookingforthem,forus.Ifeltasudden,swoopingacheforhowourliveshadbeen,thefriendshipweusedtohave.Itfeltlikehomesickness.
“OhmyGod,what’swrong?Whyareyoucrying?”Kristendroppedaloafofbreadandrushedovertome.
“I’vebeensoworried.Aboutyou,aboutbeingcaught…abouteverything.”MyvoiceteeteredandIswipedatmycheeks.
“Aw,Emily,it’sokay!We’renotgoingtogetcaught.”
Isnuffled.“It’snotjustthat.”
Shegazedatme,hereyestender.
“Ijust…you’vebeenactingsonormal.Likethishugeandterriblethingdidn’thappen.Howareyouso…fine?”
Foramomentshestaredatme,lipstaut,pinkemergingonhercheekslikeaPolaroiddeveloping.Thenhernosequivered,catlike,andglassytearsdripped.
“Oh,Emily.”Shecuppedherhandsoverherfaceanddroppedintoakitchenchair.
Whoa.“Kristen,hey.You’renotaloneinthis.”
“Aren’tI,though?”Shepulledanapkinfromtheholderandblewhernose,along,ducklikehonk.“Youdon’teven—Idon’tknowwhatyouwantmetodo.HowI’msupposedtoact.Ican’tgobackintimeanddothingsdifferently,Em.Ican’tmakeitallgoaway.Andthewayyoulookatmeeversincethen—thewayyou’relookingatmenow,likeI’mamonster,likethesightofmemakesyousick.Itwasanaccident.Inevermeantforittohappenthewayitdid.Ihatemyself,Emily.Ihatemyselfforputtingusthroughthatagain,andyouhatemetoo.”
Mystomachplummeted.Ilungedaroundthetableandwrappedherinmyarms.“Kristen,listentome:Idon’thateyou.Idon’t.Iwasn’t…I’mnotcallingyouamonster,I’mnotsayingit’sallyourfault.”Irestedmycheekagainstthetopofherhead.Herhairsmelledautumnal,likesunflowersandscalp.
“It’snotfair.”Hervoicewassowatery,Icouldbarelymakeoutthewords.“Whenyouweretheonewhowasattacked,wedidwhatwehadtodo,period.Butnowthatit’sme,suddenlyyou’re…”Shetrailedoff.
Mygutstwisted.“You’reright.I’msosorry.You’reright.”Atearrolledoffmycheek.“ButIwasn’tfineafterCambodiaeither.AndI’mnotfinenow.You’vebeensocalm,likenothinghappened.Likewedidn’texperiencethismajorlytraumaticthing.Iwasstartingto,Idon’tknow,questionmysanityorsomething.Likewewereontotallydifferentpages.”
“Well,I’mnotfine!Clearly.”Hertrunkshookwithsobs.Icouldfeelreliefsweepingthroughme,pricklysweet,likeChampagne.
SoKristenfelteverythingtoo.Kristenwasalsosteepedinguiltandhorror,scrabblingthroughthedaysjustlikeme.Hercalmconfidence,thatdismissiveair—Isawnowthatitwasn’tgaslighting;itwasherbeingstrongforme,becauseshefeltresponsible.Howunfairwouldithavebeenforhertoquiverandquakeandconfesstomethatshethoughtwe’dbothbecaught,whenithadbeenherattacker,herhandaroundthewine-filledweapon?Shehadnochoicebuttoreassureme.SuddenlytheweightofhowI’dbeentreatingKristenclobberedme.Kristen,anassaultsurvivor,noless.
Wecriedtogetherforafewseconds,thensatupandletthesobsturntoshylaughs.
“We’reokay?”Iasked.
Shenoddedandwipedhereyes.“We’reokay.”
“And,Kristen,thankyousomuchformakingthistriphappen.Andthewholetreasurehunt,obviously.I’msureittookalotofworkonyourpart.It’smagicalbeinguphereandI’m—I’msogladtobeherewithyou.”
Shesmiled.“You’rewelcome.I’mgladwe’reheretoo.”
Iglancedbeyondher.“Shouldwefinishputtingthefoodaway?”
“Wedefinitelyshould.”Kristengiggledagain,thesoundwetandrickety,andasIheadedforthefridgeshefittedanalbumintheoldrecordplayer,andasFleetwoodMaclasheditswayintothelivingroom,Kristendancedovertome,andaswesangalongwiththechorus,crooningintothewallsofourbigpineboxthatwecouldstillhearyousayingyouwouldneverbreakthechain,somethingpoppedbetweenuslikeacork,andinitsplacerushedsweetrelief.
—
LATERTHATNIGHT,ourbelliesfull,wesatonGrandpa’sPierandwatchedthesunsinkbehindthetreeline,paintingthecloudsorangeandredinafinalhystericalblaze.Iwassorelieved,Ikepttearingup:Finally,finally,mypsychehadstoppedyankingawayfromKristen,myoldest,purestfriend.Wesippedourbeersasthewaterturnedtooil,thenbecametoodarktosee.ButIcouldhearwhatIcouldnolongerview—wavespercussingthedock’smetallegs,thelonesomewarbleofaloon,bullfrogslikepluckedstringsonabassguitar.
“Oh,Ihavesomethingforyou.”Kristen’svoiceskimmedoverthewater,apuckonarink.
“Moresurprises?”
“Justmebeingcheesy.”Shepulledanenvelopefromthepocketofherhoodie.Ishinedaflashlightonthecardinside:apretty,paintedflowermotif,HAPPYBIRTHDAYvisibleinthecorner.
DearEmily,HAPPYBIRTHDAY!It’shardtobelievewe’vebeenfriendsfor10+years.Ican’timaginemylifewithoutyou—inaway,IguessIowethosedouchebagsinourStats101classathank-you.I’msoproudofthesmart,strong,independentwomanyou’vebecome.AndIcountmyselfsoluckythat,after2yearsapart,we’llfinallyliveinthesamecityagain!I’vebeenthinkingbacktothoselatenightswhenwe’dsneakoutat4or5amandsplashinthewaterandthenwatchthesunriseoverLakeMichigantogether.Rememberthat?Whenwe’dfeellikeweweretheonlyonesawakeinthewholeworld.Whenwe’dfeellikenotjustEvanstonbuttheentireworldwasours.Whenwewoulddryrightoff—perfectly,boldlyourselves.XOXO,
Kristen
PSIfyoueverforgethowamazingyouare,youknowwhotocall.BecauseInever,everforget,andI’dbehonoredtocounttheways.PPSLastlineoftheday,promise!
“Aw,Kristen!”Istoodtowrapherinahug.“Thisissupersweet.It’sbeenagreatbirthday.”
“Evenwiththesurprises?”
“Ifsurprisesgetmetoparadise,thensure.”
Outonthewater,afishjumped,bloop.“IwasthinkingabouthowitfeltatNorthwestern—likewewereinourownlittleworld,”shesaid.“Figureditwastimetobringbacktheriddles.”
“Clever.Andhey,I’mgladtoentermythirtieswithareminderthatwe’rehugenerds.”
Wewatcheddistantheadlightscurvearoundthefarsideofthelake.
“I’mgettingeatenalivebymosquitoes,”Iannounced,andshefollowedmeinside.
Ihadn’tlookedatmyphoneinhours,butwhenIdid,itcouldn’tfindcellservice.“Hey,RussellsaidIshouldbeonemailtomorrow,”Isaid.“DowehavetodrivesomewhereforWi-Fi?”
“No,wehaveathingienow.Ahotspot.”Sheduckedintothehallway,andIheardherfumblingthroughplastic.Shereturnedandtossedthegadgetmyway.“Butweonlygetalimitednumberofgigsamonth.Soyoucan’tstreamamovieoranything.”
Iwaitedforittoconnect,thensiftedthroughallthebirthdaywishes.TherewasapeculiarnotefromNana,sentonlytome:
DearEmily,Howareyoudoingatthelake?Ijustwantedtomakesureyou’recomfortable.Kristenhasbeenactingabitstrangelately.Pleasedon’thesitatetocallmeifyouneedanything.
Thatwasalarmingenough,butthenanotheremail,onefromlessthananhourago,mademyvisionswim.Adiscordanthumwhooshedinmyears,shrillandwrong,likethesoundofanorchestratuningup.
ItwasalsofromNana,anditwassenttoKristenandme.
“ThisiswhyIthinkyou’resobravewithallyourtravels,”itread,followedbyaURL.Itappedthelinkwithashakingfinger.
ItwasaCNNarticle,Paolo’ssmilingfaceatthetop.Theheadline:BACKPACKER’SREMAINSFOUNDINREMOTECHILEANVILLAGE.
CHAPTER21
“Hey,didyouwanttomakeacampfiretonight?”Kristencalled.She’dstuckherfaceintothefreezersohervoiceechoed.“Weboughticecream,butwecouldalsodos’mores.I’mgreatatbuildingfires.Butwecanwaituntiltomorrow.”
WhenIdidn’tanswer,shesmackedthefreezerdoorclosedandwhirledaround.“Didyouhearme?Weshouldprobablygetmorefirewood,but—”
“Kristen.”Idroppedmyphoneonthetable,thunk.“Youneedtoseethis.”
“Whatisit?”Hernosewrinkled.“Didsomeoneyouusedtohookupwithsendyouabirthdaytext?Ihatewhendudes—”
“I’mserious.Checkyouremail.”
Shesqueezedhereyebrows,thensnatchedherphoneoffthekitchencounter.Iwatchedherfaceassheread:expressionless.
“Well,shit.”
Irereadtheemail.“DoyouthinkNanaknows?”
“Knowswhat?Thatwe’restupidgirlswhotraveltofarawayplacesandareluckytostillbealive?”Sherolledhereyes.“TheobnoxiousthingaboutNana’sperformativeconcernisthatsheisn’tactuallyworriedaboutme—she’dbegladtosay‘Itoldyouso’ifsomethinghappened.It’sjustanotherwayforthemtocriticizeme.”Sheraisedanaggyfinger.“?‘Lookatyoumakingstupiddecisions,andnosurprise,Iwasrightandtheworldisdangerousandyou’renotafunctioningadult.’Typical.”Shefloppedintothechairacrossfrommine.
“Wait,that’snotevenmypoint.Paolo.Wasfreakingfound.Doesn’tthatdisturbyouthetiniestbit?”
Kristenstaredatme,stock-still,thencockedaneyebrow.“Let’sturnourphonesoff.”
“Kristen,forChrist’ssake,nooneislistening,we’reinthemiddleofnowherewithcrappyreception,and—”
“Phonesoff.”Shesaiditfirmly,calmly,likeIwasalittlekidhavingameltdown.Islowedmybreathingandknewshewasright.Siriwasalwayslistening,alwaysreadytopipeupandhookusintothegrid.
“Nottillafterwereadthearticle,”Isaid.
“Fine.”
Thebodyofa24-year-oldSpanish-AmericanbackpackerwhowentmissingaftermonthsoftravelingaroundSouthAmericahasbeenfound,accordingtopolice.PaoloGarcíawaslastseeninPuertoNatales,acityinChileanPatagonia,onMarch27.OnWednesday,policeconfirmedtoCNNthatabodyfoundbypoliceinArroyito,aremoteareainChile’smountainousElquiValley,washis.OnThursday,ChileanNationalPolicetoldCNNthattheyhadcompletedanautopsyoverseenbyanAmericanconsularofficial.Policehavenotreleasedinformationaboutthecauseofdeathbutconfirmedtheyaretreatingtheinvestigationasahomicide.TheGarcíafamilyisnowworkingtobringPaolo’sbodybacktotheUnitedStates,policesaid.“Rightnowwearegrievinganddesperateforanswers,”saidRodrigoGarcía,Paolo’sfatherandtheownerofCastilloDevelopment,aLosAngelesrealestatedevelopmentfirm.“Thepolicemustfigureoutwhodidthisandmakehimpay.”PaoloGarcíawasborninCaliforniabutspentmostofhislifeinBarcelona.HehaddualcitizenshipintheUnitedStatesandSpain.
Garcíawasregularlyoutoftouchforweeksatatimeduringhistravels,soit’sunclearhowlonghewasunaccounted-forbeforehisfamilyreportedhimmissing.Theman’spersonaleffects,includinghispassportandwallet,werenotwithhim,solocalteamsareinvestigatingwhereintheareahemayhavestayed,accordingtoSpain’sAgenciaEFEnewsagency.OnWednesday,Paolo’ssisterElenaGarcíasaidherbrotherwantedtolivelifetothefullest.Paolohadbeensavingupforthetripforyears,andhewas“veryexcitedtoseenewcountriesandmeetnewpeople,”Elenasaid.ThelasttimetheyspokewasonMarch23,whenPaolomessagedhissistertosayhowamazinghistripwas.“Hewantedtoexploretheworld,tolivelifewithoutregrets,”Elenasaid
Ilookedup.Kristenwasstillreading,stone-faced.
Eachrevelationwaslikeabassdrum,struck.Boom:PaolowasAmerican.Boom:Paolocamefromawealthyfamily,onewiththeresourcestonotstopuntilthey’dgottenjustice.Boom:Thisnewsmightgripthenation,handsomePaoloasthenextphotogenicNataleeHolloway.Shit
AndPaolohadafamily.Asister.Jesus.Nowtheyweren’tshadowystand-insinmyimagination;theyhadnames,voices,lives.SuddenlyallIwantedwastogooglethesister,learneverythingIcouldaboutthispoorsibling-lessElena,jammythumbontothebruise.Whyisn’tthereatermforsomeonewho’slosttheirbrotherorsister?Thereareorphansandwidowsandwidowers.Thisseemedworse.
FinallyKristenstoppedreading.Sheblewabreathoutthroughpursedlips,thentappedherscreen.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked.
“ReplyingtoNana.Thenmyphonegoesoffagain.Yourstoo.”
“Christ.”Ihelddowntherightbuttons,thentossedmydeadphoneontothetablelikeitdisgustedme.“It’salot,right?”
“It’snotideal.”
“Notideal?”
“Nothingabouttheautopsy.Thecauseofdeathorstateofdecomposition.Andnowthey’llprobablystartaskingaroundinallthetouristytowns.Istillthinkwe’refine,sincehehadn’tevenhadtimetocheckintoahotel,but—”
“He’sAmerican,Kristen.ThefreakingAmericanconsulateisinvolved.”
“Iknow—Ican’tbelievehedidn’tmentionthat.”
“Hehadasister.”Islappedatmyphone.TheguiltI’dbeenholdingbackbreachedthedamandgushedintomystomach.“Hehadafamily.Andthey’regrieving,Kristen.Becauseofus.”
Shelookedbewildered.“Hitlerhadamomtoo.Thatdidn’tmakehimlessterrible.”
“Theyfoundhim!Ittookthemlessthantwoweeks!Andhisfamily’sloaded!We’resoscrewed.”
Shelookedrightatme,holdingeyecontactevenasmygazeflittedaroundtheroom.“Emily,it’sfine.”
“Howisitfine?”Irealizedmybreathwashighinmychest,tightandquick.MythroatfeltlikeitwasshrinkingandIstood,rummagedinmypurse,andclosedmylipsaroundmyinhaler.Beganthesweetcountdownfromtentoone.
“Areyouokay?Youwantsomewater?”
“I’mnotokay.”Isatdownroughly.“Howareyousocalm?”
“Becauseweweresmart.Becausewedideverythingright.”Shesplattedherpalmontothetable.“Theyfoundhiminatownwewereneverseenin.Wedon’tevenknowexactlywherewewere.Andthebodymusthavedeteriorated—theydon’tknowexactlywhenithappened.There’snothingtyingustoit.”
Iwantedtobelieveher.Butshehadn’tbeentheonetospearheadthisoperation.AndwhenIwastheoneincharge,somethingalwayswentwrong.“Howdoyouknowwedideverythingright?Youwerefreakingoutthewholenight!”Icountedthelooseendsonmyfingers:“Someonecouldhaveseenourcar,orseenusgettingtheshovelsorputtingthemaway—therewasthatlight.Orsomeoneremembersusfromthebar.Ormaybeweleftsomethingofhisbehindinthesuite—itwasdark,andwewerehustling.Wedidn’tevenhavepropercleaningsupplies.Or,orwhatiftherentalcarhadbuilt-inGPSorsatellitetrackingorsomething,andtheycantrackwherewe—”
“Emily.”Herhazeleyesboredintome,socalmandearnest,greenishintheeveninglight.“Thosethingsaren’ttrue.Wedidn’tleaveanythinginthesuite.Nobodywastrackingourcar.Andnoonesawusdoinganything.Buteveniftheydid,you’reforgettingthemostimportantreasonI’mnotworried.”
Myeyesfeltlikestormclouds—heavydropsthreatenedtofall.“Andwhat’sthat?”
Sheliftedmyphoneandheldthedarkscreenouttomeatfacelevel.Ifrownedatit,thenshookmyhead,confused.
“No—lookintoit,”shesaid.Myfocusshiftedtotheebonymirror,streakedwithoilandwithaspiderycrackwebbingoutoftheleftcorner.Thenmyfocusslippedoneleveldeeper,andIsawtheimage,likeaMagicEyepicture:myself,myownface,youngandsweet-looking.WeusedtojokethatwhileKristenhadRestingBitchFace,IhadRestingHappyFace—strangersalwaysstoppedmetoaskfordirections,andmenonthestreetnevertoldmetosmile(insteadfindingotheregressfortheirharassment).Iunderstood:Thiswasnotthefaceofamurderer.Irolledmylipsinwardandleanedaway.
“Now,we’llturnourphonesbackonandyou’llcheckyourworkemailsandthat’stheendofthat.Okay?”
Hernonchalanceunnervedme,andrepulsionflutteredinmytorso.Buttheurgetostrainawayfromherfeltdifferentthistime.Lessprimal,morecerebral.
Igazedattheantlerchandelier,thennodded,becausetherewasnothingmoretosay.Butforonce,herconfidencewasn’treassuring.Itfeltobstinate,unearned.
Anditcouldn’tdrownouttheloudestlinefromthatarticle,thephrasealreadyloopinginmybrain:desperateforanswers.
Kristen,ofallpeople,shouldknowthatdesperatesoulsstopatnothingtogetwhattheywant.
CHAPTER22
Iwokeearlyandblinkedintothefilteredlight;birdsongwaftedthroughtheopenwindowsandIclosedmyeyesagain,savoredit,knowingsomethingbadwasbrewing,too,thoughIdidn’trememberwhat.
Icouldn’tholditoffforlong,andmyeyessnappedopenatthefrigidthought:Paolo’sbody,policemenlikeantsporingovertheElquiValley.Thelandouttheredidlooklikeanthills,cometothinkofit.Fox-coloredandsandy.Perhapstotheright-sizedgiant,theAndeswerelittlemoundsteemingwithtwo-leggedinsects.
LastnightI’dbrieflyconsideredaskingKristentotakemehome,butthatwouldn’taccomplishmuch;Kristenwastheonlyonewhocouldcommiserate,andI’dratherbedespondenthereatthelakethaninmydarkenedapartment.NowItossedoffthecovers;therewasnothingtodobutgoonwithmyday.I’dcarrymycoffeeouttoGrandpa’sPier.Bringsomereadingmaterial,somethingtooccupymewhenthoughtsofPaoloinevitablypoppedandfrizzledinmymind.
Asthecoffeemakerburbled,Iperusedthewoodenbookshelfinthelivingroom.Anentiresectionwasdevotedtoreligioustitles:devotionalBiblesandbooksbymillionairetelevangelistsandadog-earedcopyofThePurposeDrivenLife.AboundworkbookofdailydevotionsfromKingofKings,thechurchwhereNanaandBillwerecongregants,withalargecrucifixonthecover.IthoughtbacktomyconversationwithAaron—howhe’dlikedthebuilt-incommunity.Myownbrusheswithorganizedreligionhadbeenminimal;whenIwenttotheoccasionalyouth-groupoutingatthelocalmegachurchinhighschool,itwasmoreoutofyearningfornewfriendsthaninterestinahigherpower.
I’dlikedmostofwhatI’dpickedupduringthoseyouthservices,though—howJesushungoutwithsexworkersandlepers,allhisZen-likekōansaboutturningtheothercheek,givingamantheshirtoffyourback,notpointingoutthespeckofsawdustinsomeone’seyewhenthere’saloginyourown.Heseemedlikeacoolguy,nonjudgmental.VerydifferentfromhowKristendescribedKingofKingsLutheranChurchandSchool.Whataname.
IfoundaStephenKing(ha)bookinthebackandsteppedoutside.Smallfernsbowedalongtheshadedfootpath,givingthesiteaJurassicfeel,outoftime.Ipausedtodigapebbleoutofmyshoeandgrabbedatreetrunkforsupport.Itwasapine,itsprettyskincrackedandvalleyedlikeapanofcrinkle-topbrownies,andsooldthelowestboughswereafewfeetovermyhead.
Ispottedsomethingontheboleofatreeafewfeetdeeperintotheforest.SquirrelsscatteredasIpickedmywayovertoit.Aroundhipheight,therewasachangeinthetrunk’stexture:
KC
+
JR
Atleast,IthoughtitwasaJR.AheartenclosedthecarvingandIsankmyfingerintoit.Itlookedoldandweather-beaten;I’dbeentothiscabinperhapsahalfdozentimesandI’dnevernoticedthisbefore.KristenCzarnecki…andapairoflettersviciouslycrossedout,hackedatwithanaxorsaw.Achildhoodcrush?Imadeamentalnotetoaskaboutitandheadedforthedock.
Johnboatsdottedthelake,olivegreenandboxy.Ireclinedonadew-slickfoldingchairandlistenedtothesoundsofmorning:windrattlingthereedsandlushboughsoverhead,thesplashykerplunkoflureshittingthewater,thesuckingsmacksofwaterlappingatthedock.Acritter—achipmunk,maybe,oramouse—skitteredthroughthebrushbehindme,andafishjumpedoppositeafisherman’sline,rufflingthesmoothreflection.
Whatadisconnect.TheoutsidelikevisualValium,myinsidespricklingwithdread.
Stop.Stop.Stop.
Iheardtheslapofthescreendoor,andthenthecrunchofKristenmakingherwaydownthepath.Sheappeared,muginhand.
“Morning!”
“Thanksformakingcoffee.”Sheeasedintotheseatnexttomine,carefulnottospillherbrimmingcup.Istudiedherasshetookasipandgazedoutatthewater.Sounbotheredbylastnight’srevelation,asifthiswerenormal,learningthatexpertsjustexcavatedthebodyyouburied.Mystomachcontorted.God,foroneglorious,glimmeringmomentyesterday,IhadconvincedmyselfthatKristenandIwereontheexactsamepage.Couldn’twetime-travelbacktothat?
Wewatchedthefishingboatsforawhile.Someonecaughtapearlyrainbowtrout,andtheshoutsofthemenintheskiffsoundedasiftheyweremerefeetaway.Funnyhowlakesdothat—warpthedimensionsofeverythingaroundthem.
“Whatisthat?”Kristenstaredattheairjustabovehershoulder,seeminglyatnothing.ThenIspottedit:acaterpillar,perhapsaninchlong,squirminglikeawormonahook.Tuftsofwhitefursprangfromablackbody.
“It’sahickory…something.PrettyrareintheMidwest,Ithink.Hey!”
BeforeIcouldstopher,Kristenliftedatwigandsliceditthroughtheairabovethecaterpillar,sendingittumblingtothedock.
“Why’dyoudothat?”
Shelookedgenuinelyconfused.“Itwasstuckinaspider’sweb.”
Igroaned.“Kristen,itwastryingtospinacocoon.Thatwasitsownsilk.”
Sheleanedoverandsearchedthedeckforit,thenshrugged.“Itwasprobablygoingtoturnintoanuglymothanyway.”
Ididn’ttellhershewasright.
—
CLOUDSROLLEDIN,gray-blueandengorged,soweheadedintotown.Kristenparallelparkedwithconfidence,thenrootedaroundforanumbrellainthebackseat.Throughtherain-spatteredwindshield,Itookinthebusinessesalongthemainstreet:acafé,apizzajointwithbeersignsglowinginthewindows,animprobablebarber-and-computer-repair-shopcombo.Kristenledusupthefrontstepsofarefurbishedhome,andthefrontdoorjangledaswesteppedinsideSecondChanceAntiques.
Silverylightfilteredinfromthebaywindows,spotlightingswirlsofdust.Itookashallowsipofair;thedanknessneedledatmyasthma,andmychestconstrictedlikeacorsetyankedtight.SecondChancewasawonderlandofjunk:alabyrinthoftallshelvespiledwitholddishwareand’80sHappyMealtoysandfustyboardgames.Iliftedadustyjadeelephantandsearchedforapricesticker—Priyacollectedelephants.
“Iremembercominghereasakid.”Kristenpokedaporcelainpoodle,inspectedthepinkbowsatitsears.“Mymomalwaysletmepicksomethingout.Sheknewtheowner,Greta,who’stherealantique.”
“Ididn’thearyoucomein!”Atinywomanmaterializedbetweentheshelves,hervoicehighandbrittle.Sheshuffledtowardusinwhiteorthoticsneakers,hercloudofdyedblackhairbobbing.
“Greta!It’sme,KristenCzarnecki!”KristenopenedherarmsandGretamadetwolaboriousblinks,asifhereyemuscleswereoldandtiredtoo.Thenhereyebrowsshotupandhermouthcrinkledintoagrin.
“Kristen!Youlookmorelikeyourmothereveryday.”Gretaburiedherinahug,soIcouldn’tseeKristen’sreaction.
Gretaspottedmeandfrowned.“Well,hello,”shecluckedsuspiciously.
“ThisismyfriendEmily!”Kristenpresentedmewithbothhands,likeagameshowhost.“She’svisitingfromMilwaukeewithme.”
“Youknowwhoshelookslike?What’s-her-name.”ShestaredhardatKristen,asifshecouldfigureitoutviaosmosis.“Thatfriendofyours.Theonewhowasalwaysupherewithyouwhenyouwerelittlegirls.Jamie.”
“Ican’tbelieveyourememberthat!Jamie,that’sright.Shedoeskindalooklikeher.”Theybothturnedtome,appraising.Ifeltanuncomfortablerippledeepinmyabdomen.
Gretascrewedupherlips,thinking.“Thatgirl,Jamie,Ialwaysthought—”
“Howarethingsatthestore?”Kristen’sinterruptionwasn’tassmoothasshehoped,andmyantennaewentup.Gretalookedconfused,thengrabbedKristen’shand.“Oh,y’know,fine.Andyou’vebeensomewherefaraway,right?Australia?”
“Yep,Australia!Greta,youaresharpasatack.”
“It’srunningtheshop.Keepsmeonmytoes.”Shetappedthesideofherhead,thengazedatme.“I’meighty-fouryearsold.Canyoubelievethat?”
Imadeagrandshowofmysurprise.Tobehonest,Iwould’veguessedshewasinhermid-eighties,butIadmiredherimmodesty.
“IhopeI’mhalfasbadassasyouwhenI’meighty-four,”Kristenoffered.
“Language,Kristen.”Gretacreasedhercrinklybrow.“Well,howlongareyougirlsintheNorthWoods?”
“Justthroughtheweekend.Oh,butI’mmovingbacktoMilwaukee!”Kristenpressedherhandstogether.“IfoundanapartmentintheFifthWard.”
“I’mnotsurprised.Wisconsinhasawayofpullingfolksback.Peopletrytoleave,butitneversticks.”Aphonebeganringinginthebackofthestore,andittookGretaamomenttonoticeit.FinallysheshuffledoffandKristenandIwentbacktobrowsing.
Afterafewminutes,Kristenannouncedshewasgoingtothecoffeeshopnextdoor,andIheadedtotheregistertopay.
“You’reenjoyingyourtimewithKristen?”Gretaaskedasshewrappedthestoneelephantinnewspaper.
“Yes!It’ssobeautifuluphere.”
“Yougavemearealstart.WhenIsawyouwithKristen?IthoughtyouwereherlittlefriendJamie,allgrown-up.”Shesmoothedalongpieceoftapeontop.
Ismiled,unsurehowtoreply.
Sheleanedforward.“Butofcourse,youcouldn’tbe.Thatwouldtakeamiracle.”
Ichuckleduncomfortably,thewayyoulaughwhenamaninpowermakesanoff-colorjoke.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Shehandedmethenewsprintbundle,andwithaspasmoffear,IthoughtofthemeltedclumpofPaolo’sbelongings.Paperwrappedaroundourdarkestsecret.AndthepeopleinL.A.who’dgiveanythingtouncoverit.
“YouknowwhathappenedtoJamie,Godresthersoul.”
Mychestclenchedup.Noway.Nowaythat,inadditiontoSebastianandPaoloandAnneandJerryCzarnecki,Kristen’schildhoodfriendwas…
Inarrowedmyeyes.“I’msorry,what?”
Shetwistedhermouthintoasadsmile.“IfJamiewalkedintomystore,well.”Sheshrugged.“ThatwouldmeanIwasseeingaghost.”
—
“SO,WHO’SMYdoppelg?nger?”IkeptmyvoicelightasIsetapotinthesinkandturnedonthetap.Gretahadn’thadanymoredetailstoshare,justmurmursalongthelinesof“Thatpoor,sweetgirl.”Icouldn’tbelieveKristenhadn’tmentionedadeadclosefriend.God,shemust’vebeentheunluckiestkidalive,testedlikeJobwhilethepeopleclosesttoherdroppedlikeflies…
“No,usethefilteredwater.Anddon’tforgetthebeer.”
“Beer?”Iglancedather.
“EightyearsinWisconsinandyoustilldon’tknowhowtocookabrat?Typical.”Shedugaroundinthefridge,thenemergedwithabrimmingBritaandacanofMGD.“Forcooking.Thegoodstuffisfordrinking.”
“AndhereIwasabouttoboilthemintapwaterlikeaNeanderthal.”Irefilledthesaucepancarefully.“Youdidn’tanswermyquestion.ThefriendIlooklike?”
“Jamie.Ican’tbelieveGretarememberedhername.It’sbeenoverfifteenyears.”ShepassedmeaSpottedCowAle.“Youdon’treallylookalike.Otherthanbothhavingdarkhair.”
“Andsheusedtocomeuphere?”
“Mm-hmm.Wewerebestfriendswhenwewerekids.”
JR—thehacked-outinitialsinthecarvedheart.“YoubothwenttothatPresbyterianschool?”
“Lutheran.Presbyteriansarewildbycomparison.”Shetookasipofbeer.“Wewenttoschooltogether,yeah.Butwekneweachotherourwholelives.OurparentswerefriendsevenbeforeIwasborn;theylivedinthehousebetweenusandNanaandBill.”
Aha,soJamiegrewupintheCalifornia-stylehousewiththefatstonepineapples.ButwhywasKristenleavingoutthebiggestdetail—thefactthatJamiewasnolongeralive?Ikeptpushing:“Aretheystillthere?”
Hereyesdarkened.“No,theymovedaway.Hey,didweremembertopickuplighterfluid?”
“Wedid,it’sbythedoor.”Igaveheronemorechance:“SowhathappenedtoJamie?”
“Nothinggood.”Kristencrossedtothewood-burningstoveandswungitsmetaldooropen.Iwaitedforhertogoon,evenoutofdecorum,astheawkwardnessjelled.Atlastshesentthedoorsquealingshut.“We’relowonfirewood.”
“Youknowwhat’sweird?WhenIwascheckingout,GretamadeitsoundlikeJamiehad…died.”Thewordsplattedintothespacebetweenus,soindelicate.
Kristenwasalmosttothedoor,andshefroze.“Yeah.Whenwewerekids.Therewas…anaccident.”Shetuggedatthedoorknob.“I’mgonnalightthecharcoalandchopupsomewoodforlater.Watchthebrats.”Shesnatchedupahatchetandsomelighterfluidonthewayoutandletthescreendoorbangbehindher.
WhenIcarriedthesausagesoutafterher,shewasswinginganaxgracefully,musclestaut,browfurrowedinconcentration.Therewassomethingcatlikeinthewayshekeptdismantlingthehunksofwood,slicingandrearrangingandgoingbackformore.
CHAPTER23
Thereddrophoveredandthensank,dispellingintosoftswirlslikecloudsincoffee.No,likebloodinwater.LikethemattedclumpssofteningandslinkingawayfromSebastian’sskullinTonleKakRiver.
HowdidJamiedie?Mymindkeptreturningtoit,akid’stongueslippingintothewetholeofalosttooth.ButKristenhadmadeitclearshedidn’twanttodiscussit.
Shegavethejiggeranothershake,thenpushedthebottleofCampariaside.“Peoplethinkyou’resupposedtoshakenegronisoverice,butthey’rewrong,”shesaid.“Youjuststirit.”
KristenhadtakenupcocktailmakinginSydney,aself-taughtventureinvolvingtriplesec,homemadebitters,andnotonebuttwokindsofvermouth.Fortunately,NanaandBillkeptafullystockedbarinthecabin’sfinishedbasement.We’dalreadysampledherold-fashionedsandmanhattansandwerefeelingabitloose.Shedroppedintheorangepeelandhandedmemycocktail;ourglasseskissed,andItookasip.
“You’reright—Iloveit.”Herbaceousandrich,likedrinkingrubies.
“Istillcan’tbelieveyou’veneverhadanegroni.”Shefloppedontothesectionalsofanexttome.“IthoughtMilwaukee’s,like,aworld-classcity.”
“Well,BarkerTavernisstillservingtheprixfixe.”AfewbucksforashotofJameson,acanofPBR,andaloosecigarettetuckedintothetab—alocalstaple.
“Gotit.Sotherehasn’tbeenmuchofareasontobranchout.”
Thecheerydemeanor,jokestossedofflikefluffinthewind:Lessthantwenty-fourhoursafterwe’dreadthearticle,Kristenseemedtobedoublingdownonherinsistencethateverythingwasfine,thatlifewasnormal,thatwehadnothingtodowithallthat.Denialasacopingmechanism:Itwasn’thowI’dhandledmypost-assaultlife,butatleastIcouldunderstandit.Untilyesterday,everythingwasfine—inthesensethatnoonewasafterus.Butnow?AsPaolo’swealthyfathervowedtobringhisson’skillertojustice?
Kristenslidherhandsaroundtheglass,leavingfingerprintsinthedew.“It’ssoweirdtobeupherewithoutNanaandBill.Ifeellikewe’reteenagerssneakingillicitdrinksinthebasement.”
Shekeptdoingthis,too,introducingtopicsofconversationsoIwouldn’thavetimetobringupPaolo.ButIknewdistressingherwouldn’thelpmatters,soIangledformoreinfoonJamie:“Yougottobringfriendsupasakid,right?”
“Yeah,inthesummer.Myroomhadatrundlebed,whichwethoughtwasthecoolestthing.”
“AndyoubroughtJamie?”Whenshenodded:“Itmusthavebeennicehavingafriendhere.Isaythatasafellowonlychild.”
“Itwassofun!We’dmakeupelaboratewaterballetsinthelake.Like,standingoninnertubesandfloppingoffinunison.Thenwe’dgetmadwhentheothermessedupthechoreography.”Apealoflaughter.“Orwe’dtakethecanoeout.Meintheback,steering,ofcourse.I’dgetsobossy.”
Ismiled.“Thattracks.”
“Wewerelikesisters.”Kristensighed.“Imissher.”
“I’msurprisedyouhaven’tmentionedherbefore.”
“Oh,Idefinitelyhave.”
“Tome?Nuh-uh—I’dremember.”
“Iforsurehave.Iremembertellingyouaboutmybestieandneighbor,like,multipletimesovertheyears.”
“Noway.”Hadshe?HadthismysteriousJamiesimplyslippedpastmynoticeonearliermentions?I’dalwaysthoughtKristenhadhadalonelychildhood,likeme.It’dbeonethingifthey’dsimplydriftedapart,but…Lord,adeadbestfriendfeltlikesomethingI’dknow.“Isawsomeletterscarvedintoapinetree.Werethoseherinitials,allhackedout?”
Kristen’svoicefrostedover:“Yeah,Ididthatalongtimeago.”
“Howcome?”
Shepeereddownatherdrink,attheredmoontrappedinhertumbler.“Let’stalkaboutsomethingelse.LikehowgladIamtobeoutofNanaandBill’shouse,ohmyGod.Ican’twaittomoveintomyownapartment.ThepastissoinmyfaceinBrookfield.”
Therewassomethingthere,somethingbeyondgriefaboutherfriend,butIdidn’twanttopoketoohard.“Yeah,everyoneregresseswhentheygohome,”Isaid.
“NanaaskedifI’dbebackintimetogotochurchwiththemonSunday.Likethey’restilltryingtosavemysoul.”Shetookanothercrimsongulp.“IthinktheonlytimetheyreallylikedmewaswhenIwas,like,tenyearsoldandChristianitywasmyentireidentity.”
“YoucalledyourselfaJesusfreak,right?”Iteased.We’dhadthosewhat-were-you-like-as-a-kidconversations,wonderinginhushedawewhatwould’vehappenedifwe’dmetjustafewyearsearlier.Imyselfhadembodiedthenerdtrifecta:marchingband,chessclub,debateteam.
Somethingflickeredinhereyes.“Ohyes.ProudJesusfreakrighthere.”
“Speakingof,didn’tyousayallyourchildhoodstuffishereinthecabin?”
“Yeah,goodmemory.Theystuffeditintheunfinishedpartsotheycanturnmybedroomintoagym.”Shegesturedtowardadoorbreakingupthegreen-plaidwallpaper,thengrinned.“What,youwanttoseepicturesofmeincrossnecklacesatchurchfundraisersandeverything?”
“Kindof!”
Shechuckled,butIfeltit,ashiftintheairpressure.“Oh,Idon’tfeellikediggingbackthere.”
“C’mon,Iwantphotographicproofthatyouwereonthepomsteam.”
“No.Idon’twanttoseethatstuff.”Herwordsweresharpandthemomentfrozeup,allawkward.
“So,youweresaying,”Imurmured.“Yourgrandparentsstillwantyoutogotochurch?”
“Totally.PrayingtheHolySpiritwillentermeyet.I’mkindashockedthey’restillholdingouthope—hell,I’malmostthirty—butIguessifyoubelievewhatthatconservativesynodteaches,thelogicholdsup.”Sheshookherhead,amazedanew.“WhenIwenttoschoolatKingofKings,inreligionclassIwouldpray—outloud,everysingleday,fromkindergartenon—formymomtobecomeaChristiansoshewouldn’tgotohell.Iwasterrified,andIsupposethat’showNanaandBillfeelaboutmenow.”
“God,youpoorthing.WhywouldtheysendyoutothatschoolwithonlyoneChristianparent?”
“Right?Ididn’trealizehowmessedupitwasuntiltheywerelongdead.”
Oof.IrubbedhershoulderandshesippedherNegroniself-consciously.
“Andthenwhentheydied,Icouldseemydevotionforwhatitwas.ForallthetalkofJesusbeingmyshepherd—itwasthefirsttimeIrealizedIwasasheep.”Sheswallowed.“Anditfelthorrible.LikeI’dbeenliedtoeverysingleday.ButIguessitwasultimatelyfreeing.Like:Nowyouhavenopoweroverme.”
Shealwaystalkedaboutherparentsatthecabin;beingUpNorthmadehersentimental,LakeNovak’sclearwaterasluiceforchildhoodmemories.Iknewherparents’deathshadbroughtherfanaticalyouth-groupdaystoanabruptend.Butthisconversationfelt…different.“I’m—I’msorryyouhadtogothroughthat,Kristen.Ireallyam.”
Shetiltedhercocktailandtheicejingled.“Powerisafunnything.Youknowhowtheysaythattheoppositeofloveisn’thate,it’sindifference?Like,we’relookingatthescaleallwrong.”Shetappedhernailagainsttheglass.“Ithinkit’sthesamethingwithfear.Theoppositeoffearisn’tsafety.It’spower.”
Ipeeredather.Iwasn’tsureIagreed—I’dgiveanythingrightnowfortheassuranceofsafetywhenitcametoourcrimes.Thepromisethatnoonewouldarrestus,besmirchourgoodnames,extraditeus,ortryusinthecourtofpublicopinion.
Well,and.EvenifIcouldsecurethatkindofbubblewrap,itwouldn’tprotectmefromalifetimeoffear.Fearofverbalabuse,ofemotionalblackmail,ofcarelessmisogynydesignedtomakemefeelsmall.AlltheactsofcasualviolenceIattracted,expected,thankstomydesignatedgender.
“CanIhaveahug?”Iasked,suddenlysadforusboth.Shesetdownherglassandpulledmeintoher.Shestrokedmyhair,thewayshehadinChile,whenasthmaattackedmelikearabiddog.
—
WEBUILTAcampfirebeforebed,bothofuslostinthoughtasthewoodsnappedandsputtered.Iheldmymarshmallowovertheglowingcoals,rotatingthestickuntilI’dachievedauniformochre.ButKristenplungedhersintotheflame,turningitintoatorchandthengazingatthetinyinfernosoitwasreflectedinhereyes.
Yearsago,we’dbeenrightthere,sittingaroundthecampfireonNovak’sverdantedge,whenshefirsttoldmewhathadhappenedtoherparents.Itwasthesummerbeforejunioryear,amomentsearedintomybrain.
“Mymomwasn’tevensupposedtobehome,”she’dsaid,hertearsreflectingorange,likelava.“Thenightofthefire?It’ssomessed-up.ShewassupposedtobeupinDoorCountywithhergirlfriends,andIwasgonnagotoasleepoverbecauseIhatedbeingalonewithmydad.”Theinjusticehadbroughttearstomyeyestoo.“ButDadwasn’tfeelingwell,soshestayedhome.Ugh,itmakesmesoangry.”
I’dshuffledmycampingchairclosertohers,thengrabbedherhand.We’dbeensoyoung,still—twentyyearsoldandnewlyclose.“Soyouwerehome?Thatmust’vebeensoscary.”
“Itwasterrifying.ThesmokealarmwokemeupandItriedtorunintothehallway,butthedoorknobburnedmyhand.”Sheclutchedherpalmtoherchest,asifshecouldstillfeelthewhite-hotpain.“Iopenedmybedroomwindowandclimbedontothehugemapletreethere—I’ddoneitamilliontimesbefore.AndthenIranovertoNanaandBill’s.”
Asshedescribedtherest,itplayedinmymindlikeascenefromahorrorfilm:YoungKristenscreamingandjabbingatthedoorbelluntilhergrandparentsfinallywokeandletherinside.NanaandBillphysicallyrestrainingherasthefiretrucksarrived.She’dthrashedandhollered,beggingtobeletbackintotheblazesoshecouldfindherparentsinthechokingblackness.Butthefirehadtrappedthemintheirsuite.Theywereburnedalive,unsalvageablelikethehousethatcollapsedaroundthem.
Now,seventeenyearsafterthetragedyandalmostadecadeafterKristensharedthememorywithme,shepouredwateronthecampfiresoitbubbledandhissed,andwebideachothergoodnight.
Hourslater,Istaredatmybedroom’sslantedpineceiling,unabletosleep.Cricketsscratchedandrattledoutsidethewindow;afatinsectorpossiblyabatthumpedintothescreen.Icounted,thencountedagain.LikeifIaddeditupenoughtimes,I’dgetadifferentanswer.
Kristen’sparents.Jamie,whosebrieflifeKristenhadkeptfromme.Sebastian,thenPaolo.
Fivedeathsinfewerthantwentyyears.
I’dthoughtweattractedviolencewhenwegottogether,somehowpullingintheenergyofchaos,ofpoordecisionsandawfuldudes.AndItrustedKristen,Iknewhersoul,knewshewaslovingandgood.Butitwasthekindofthoughtyoucanhaveonlyinthewoollyshameofthemiddleofthenight:God,that’salotofdeathforsomeonesoyoung.
IthoughtbacktoNana’semailyesterday:Kristenhasbeenactingabitstrangelately.
AndKristen’swordsinChile:Weseethingstheymiss.
Iyankedmyphonefromitschargerandturnedonitsflashlight.ItiptoedpastKristen’sroomandeasedmyselfdownonecreakingsetofsteps,thenpausedatthetopofthebasementstairs.Whyarebasementssocreepy,evenwhenthey’rerefurbished?Iflickedonthelight,pullingthedoorclosedbehindmebeforethebeamcouldscatter.Awake,alert,Istalkedthroughthedenandreachedforthedoortotheunfinishedsection.
One,two,three,four,five.Fivelifelessbodies,familiesgrieving,psychesstoppedtoosoon.Iknewallaboutthelasttwo—Iknewtheywereself-defense,acaseofwrongplace(okay,wronghead-injuryplacement),wrongtime.IfIjustknewmoreaboutnumbersonethroughthree,Icouldquietthistrickleoftreason,ofsuspicion.KristenandIwere100percentcountingoneachothertokeepoursecretssafe.IneededtoknowwhatIwasdealingwith.WhomIwasdealingwith.
Ipulledtheknobandblinkedintothedarkness.Okay,thispartislegitscary.Igropedaroundforalightswitchbutcaughtnothingbutshelvingunitstotherightandleft,cobwebsdetachingtocoatmyfingers.Isweptmyphone’slightacross:workbench,rowingmachine,tablesaw.Andmoreutilityshelvestoppedwithbinsandboxes.There—abarebulbhungfromabeamintheceiling,tenfeetaway.
Thecementfloorwascoldonmysockedfeet,andwhenIpulledthelight’scordIsawmovement,ascattering.Ispottedamassivemillipededisappearingbeneathanoldwoodenchestandpressedmyhandtomythrashingheart.Justbugs.
Wheretobegin?Irifledthroughthenearestshelves,tiltingboxestoreadtheirlabels,tippingdustintomylungs.Thefurnaceclangedonandascreamcaughtinmythroat.AfterafewminutesIfoundtherightboxes,newerthantheothers,inanalcovebehindtheboiler:KRISTENBEDROOM
Idraggedthefirstboxintotherecroomandploppedontothefloor,thencringedattheloudhissthetapemadecomingloosefromcardboard.Highschoolandcollegestuff,Englishpapersandrandomplaybillsandconcertstubs,acertificateawardedtothepomteam’sMVP.Toorecent—bythetimeKristenwasinhighschool,herparentsandbestfriendwerealreadydead.
Withthesecondbox,Ihitthejackpot—herewasKristeninhertweenyears,skinny-limbedandred-facedwithamouthfulofbraces.IpulledoutastackofthinKingofKingsyearbooks.Thereweretwosectionsforeverygrade,perhapsfortystudentspergraduatingclass.
IflippedtowardKristen’sgrade,eagerforanswers.Iwasfinallygoingtolayeyesonmydouble,themysteriousJamieR.
ButintheeditionfromtheyearKristen’sparentsdied,someonehadscribbledoutJamie’sface,angrily,infuriatedblackinkthatrippedthroughthepaper.Likesomeonefullofragehadgoneatitwithaballpointpen.Iturnedtothegroupphotos—choir,mathclub,theChristianDiscipleshipAward—andeverywhereJamie’sfacehadbeenwasnowasnarlofblack.Whatthehell?
Irummagedaroundintheboxandpulledoutastackofphotos,andthetrendcontinued:smilesandpinkcheeksandbrighteyesandthentheblackgashes,scrawlswhereverJamie’sheadshouldbe.Whathadthis…JamieRuschdonetopissyoungKristenoff?Igrabbedmyphone,knee-jerk,thenrememberedtherewasnoserviceherewithoutthehotspoton.
Icouldn’tfindanythingaboutJamie’sdeath,themysterious“accident”Kristenhadreferenced.NothingaboutKristen’sparentseither.Isatbackonmyheels.Itcouldstillbeafluke.MaybeKristenreallydidattractaccidentaldeaththewayabrownbananadrawsfruitflies.
Itookafewpicturesofthephotosandtheyearbook—I’dgoogleJamielateranddidn’twanttoforgetherlastname.AsIwaspackingeverythingbackintotheboxes,Iheardagroanaboveme,somewherenorthofthedropceiling.Mypulsetickedup—timetogo.
Inthebasement’suglyback,Islippedtheboxesontoarackandhurriedovertotheutilitylight.Igavethespaceafinalglance,thenwentrigid:Somethinginthecornerhadmoved,somethingaliveinthedarkness.Ifumbledwithmyphoneandbeamedthelightthatway,andtwoshinyeyesstaredback.
Atinymouse,rigidwithfright.Ididn’tnoticemysurgeoffrostyfearuntilIwasalreadylaughing.
—
INTHEMORNING,IaskedKristentoturnthehotspoton,butshewavedmeaway.“It’sSaturday,”shepointedout.“Wecanbeoffthegrid.”
“Don’tyouthinkweshouldcheckifthereare…anydevelopments?InChile?”
Shecarriedhercoffeemugtothesink.“I’mnotworried.Hey,I’mgonnagoforarun.”
Aftersheleft,Iransackedtheclosetwherethehotspothadbeenthefirstnight,butitwasn’tthere.Idugthroughdrawersandcabinets,peekedatthefloornearallthepoweroutlets.Igroanedinfrustration.Whywasshecuttingmeoff?
Iclimbedthepathtotheparkingpadnearthestreet—ahigherelevation,somaybeIcouldgetasignal.IgotagoofytextfromPriyaandtwosweetonesfromAaron,andIwonderedagainifhewasannoyedthatKristenhadsteamrolledhisdinnerplans.ButIcouldn’tgetenoughbarstoreply,letaloneloadmyemailorreadthenews.Frustrationjolteddownmyarms.WhodidKristenthinkshewas?
Whenshereturned,red-cheeked,Icalledheroverfromthepicnictable.“Canyoupleasegogetthehotspot?Please.I’llfeelsomuchbetterifIknowthere’snothinginthenews.”
Sherolledhereyes,hercheststillheavingfromtherun,anddisappearedinside.Ifollowedherandwatchedherunplugitfromanoutletinthedownstairsbathroom—oneofveryfewIhadn’tthoughttocheck.
“Whywereyouchargingithere?”
Sheshrugged.“Whynot?”
Shehandedittomeandthenmarchedbackoutsidewithayogamatunderherarm.IclickedthelinkinNana’semailand,headbuzzing,searchedforanyrelatednews—buttherewasnothing.
Iexhaled.IstartedtoreplytoAaronbutcouldn’tfigureoutwhattowrite—Ifeltlikesuchanimpostor,aterriblegirlfriendmasqueradingasanhonestone.Asagoodone,onewhowouldn’thurtafly.
Isetmyphoneonthecounterandwentoutside.IfoundKristenontheboatdock,movinggracefullythroughayogaflow.Iwatchedherforamoment;afewyardsout,anotter’sheaderuptedfromthewater,anditslittleeyesregardedmebeforesinkingbackunderthesurface.Likeheknew.
“Caretojoinme?”Kristencalled,fromSideAnglePose.
“That’sokay.”
SheshiftedintoTrianglePose.“AllgoodontheInternet?”
“Um…Iguessso.”Igazedupatthedistanttreeline,whereabaldeaglewascarvinglongribbonsthroughthesky.
“Whatisit?”Shefoldedhermatinhalfandwalkedover.
“It’snothing.”
“Didyoufindsomething?”
“No!I…forgetit.”
“What?”
Icrossedmyarms.“Ijust…hatehavingthissecret.It’slikeawallthatkeepsmeatarm’slengthfromeveryone.”
“Butwedon’thavethatwall.We’reinthistogether.”Sheleanedagainstatree.“Youcantalktome.”
“Ican’t,though.EverytimeIbringitup,youchangethesubject.Youshutdown.”
Shesighed.“I’msorry.Thatwasn’tintentional.But…whatistheretotalkabout?Wecanrehashitamilliontimesandstressourselvesout,butthatwon’tchangeanything.Ithoughtwebothwantedtomoveforward?”
“Ido,but…it’skeepingmefromgettingclosetootherpeopletoo.It’sjust…it’stough,okay?”
“Iknowitis.”SheplacedherpalmonmyforearmandIpulledaway.
Isighed.“ItwasdifferentafterCambodia.”
Shetiltedherhead,listening.
“Itwasawful,butwithenoughtime—andyourhelp,obviously—Icouldkindofputitinaboxandgobacktomyoldlife.Icouldstopthinkingaboutitallthetime,Iwasn’t…remindedofitoranything.AndIdidn’thaveanyoneto…”Itrailedoff.
Hereyeswidened.“What?Goon,then.”
Ishookmyhead.HowcouldIexplainit?IwantedtoletmyguarddownaroundAaron,butIfeltthesecretcuttingthroughourfledglingrelationshiplikeasicklethroughgrain.Apangofself-disgustfollowed:howgross,thinkingthathavingaboyfriendmademeabetterpersonthanher.Moreeagertobeauthentic.
Hereyesturnedredandfilledwithtears.“Iriskedeverythingforyou.WhenIsawyouneededhelpinthathotelroominCambodia,Ididn’teventhink—Ijustacted,becauseyou’remybestfriend.”
Ithungbetweenus,andshedidn’tneedtosaytherest:Isavedyourlife—Ikilledforyou—andthisishowyourepayme?
“Itoldmyselfyou’ddothesameforme,”shesaid,hervoicelow.“ButIthoughtit’dneverhappentome—I’dneverbeattacked,noguywouldevertrytohurtme.Andthenwhenitdid,inChile…IwishIcouldtakeitallback,Em,Ido.ButIthoughtwewereinthistogether.”
Istartedtocrytoo.“I’msorry,Kristen.Ijustwishwecouldtellsomeone.”
“Butwhy?Soyoucanrelieveyourguiltyconscienceandthenspendthenexttenyearsinjail?Thinkaboutthat—no,I’mserious,pictureit.Youwanttospendyourthirtiesinawomen’sprisonin,like,FondduLac?”
Ihesitated,soshefinishedthethought:“Doyouwantmetospendmythirtiestheretoo?Becauseit’sallornothing.”
Ishookmyheadvehemently.Shereachedformyhandandthreadedherfingersthroughmine.Sheswungourfiststogether,likewewerekidsplayingRedRover.Together,awall,animpenetrableforce.
“Iknowit’shard,”shesaid,“andI’msorrywe’reinthisposition.Butitwillgetbetter.Iknowitdoesn’tfeellikeitnow,butitreallywillstarttofade,likeitdidlasttime.”Shesnuffledagain.“Whenmyparentsdied,andthenJamie,Ididn’tthinkI’devergetoverit.AndIwaskindofright—youdon’tmoveonandneverthinkaboutitagain.Butthings…shift.Lifebecomesthisnewtrajectorywherethesearethecircumstances,andlifegoeson.Doesthatmakesense?”
Inodded.
Sheheavedaheavysigh.“I’msorrythatthesightofmemakesyoufeelbad.”
“Kristen.”
“Iam.Idunnowhatelsetosay.You’renot—I’mnotsayingyou’rebeingmeanorunfairoranything.Ireallyamsorry.”
“Heynow.”Ishotherameaningfullook.“I’msorryyou’vebeenfeelingthatway.Ijustdon’tlikebeingevasivewithAaron.Ilikehimalot.”Igavemyheadaquickshake.“Iwanttobeopenwithyou,okay?Nosecrets.”
Shecrackedasmile.“Girl,you’retheonewho’sbeingweird.I’manopenbook.”Shepushedpastme.“I’mgonnagrabsomeofthoseseltzers,andthenwe’regoingswimming!Canyouaddsomeairtothefloatie?”
Shestrodeuptothecabin,steppingoverrootsandrocks,movingassmoothlyasalynx.Herwordsechoedinmymind:Ithoughtit’dneverhappentome
Twodeadbackpackers,ayearapart.Twodeadparents,killedinafire.Onedeadbestfriend,killedinsomekindofaccident.Somuchdeath.
Ithoughtofthearticleagain—Paolo’shandsomesmile,themerrytextstohissister.Hisfather’ssolemnvow.
AnotherechoinKristen’svoice:Itoldmyselfyou’ddothesameforme
CHAPTER24
Amosquitowhinedinmyear,high-pitchedandscreechy,tinynailsonachalkboard.Iswattedattheairandpulledthestringsofmyhoodietighter.Itwascoldouthere,colderthanI’dexpected.ComparedtoMilwaukee,wewereonlyafewhoursclosertotheNorthPole,butheretheairchilledassoonasthesunslinkedaway.
“Didyouseethatone?”Kristenpiercedthesoundsofnight:throatyfrogs,chitteringcrickets,thetinklinggurgleoflakewateraroundthepier’smetallegs.
“Crap,Imissedit.”
“Itwasagoodone.”
“Damn.”ThiswasKristen’ssecondshooting-starsightingsincewe’dpickedourwayoutheretwentyminutesago,ourflashlightsnosingovertheroot-strewnpath.Evenwithmycrummynightvision,Icouldtellthepopcornskywasspectacular:pinpricksoflightstretchingfromthetrees’lumpytopstothefarsideofthelake.Onthenarrowpier,we’dsplayedonourbacks,headsalmosttouching,legsinoppositedirections.
“MaybeIshouldturnaroundandfacethatway,”Isaid.
“No,theywerebothrightoverus.Ohlook,there’sasatellite.”Thesilhouetteofherhandblottedoutthestars,andItrackedthedotacrossthesky:afreckleofwhitemovingsteadily,determinedlywest.Ilostitwherethestarsmarbledintoacreamyband.TheMilkyWay,theedgeofthegalaxy,asKristenhadexplainedduringhertwo-minuteastronomyspiel,alongsidetheBigandLittleDippersandOrion’sbrilliantbelt.
Aswishingsound,andaclusterofstarsblinkedout.“Whatwasthat?”
Kristensnickered.“Abat,mostlikely.YouknowwaymoreaboutwildlifethanIdo.”
“Abat—mustbe.”Iwilledmyheartratetoslow.Itwassopeacefulouthere,andbeautiful,butalsoisolatedandrustlingandremote.Terrifyinginitsownsmall-townway.
“Myparentsusedtotellthestoryofhowabatgotintothecabin,”shesaid,“longbeforeIwasborn.Idon’teventhinktheyweremarriedyet.Theyusedtothrowtheseepicpartieshere,andsomehowabatcameinthroughthefireplace.”
Istayedquiet.
“It’snoteventhatgoodofastory.Youcantellitmust’vebeenreallyfunnyatthetime,butintheretellingtherewasjustalotofyellingandgrabbingweaponsandrunningaround.Iguessthewomenwereworriedaboutitflyingintotheirhair,somymomtoldeveryonetoput,like,potsandcolandersontheirheads.”
Webothlaughed,andthesoundrolledaroundthelakebeforedyingout.
“Well,Iloveit.That’ssomequickthinkingonyourmom’spart.”
Kristenletoutahm,somewherebetweenalaughandasigh.“Shewasawesome.Youwould’velovedher.”
“Definitely.”Abreezemadethetreetopswhisper.Ipulledmysleevesovermyhandsandtuckedthemundermyarmpits.
“Dadavoideduswhenwewereuphere—hejustwantedtofish—butMomwouldplaywithmealldaylong,”shewenton.“She’dsetupobstaclecoursesinthewater:aroundthesandbar,touchthereeds,thatkindofthing.Inretrospect,shejustwantedmetobeastrongswimmer.”
Amemoryfrommyownchildhooddilated:Iwasfourorfiveandwhenmymomwastoosicktotakemetoaneighbor’spoolparty,I’dbeggedmydad.Thepoolwasrectangularandteemingwithkids,andIjumpedrightintotheshallowend,whichcameuptomyshoulders.Iwasthrilledtobethere,amazedmydadhadagreed—shockedthatmypleadinghad,foronce,worked.Asmytinyfeetskimmedthefloor,IlosttrackofhowfarfromtheedgeI’dstrayed.Withoutwarning,thepool’sbottomslantedaway,andIwashopping,coughing,findingitharderwitheverysecondtokeepmyheadabovewater.
Justasthepanicpeaked,salvation:Amom,oneIdidn’tevenknow,wassuddenlyinthewatertoo,clutchingmeinherarms,murmuring,“It’sokay,you’reokay.”Shewasfullyclothed—atanktopandjeans.IclungtoherneckandlookedaroundformydadandfeltarushofreliefandlovewhenIsawthestrangledworryonhisface.Thewarmfeelingpoppedlikeablisteronthecarridehome:AsIshiveredatopadamptowel,Dadsaidgruffly,“Youshouldn’tgointhepoolifyoucan’tswim.Thatwomanhadabeeperonher—youruinedit.”ThatnightIgotaspankingforcausingascene.
“Orshe’dscroungetogethercraftsupplies,”Kristencontinueddreamily.“Onetimewemadetoysailboatsoutofchunksoftwo-by-foursandpoked’emallthewayalongtheshore.”
Inthestillnessweheardaloon’ssuddentremolo,threewarblingnotes.
“Imissmymom,”Kristensaid,hervoicealmostawhisper.
“Aw,Kristen.”
Anotherbeat.“LastyearImissedtheanniversaryofherdeath.Isn’tthatweird?Ithoughtofittwodayslater.ItfeltlikeI’dbetrayedher.Erasedherexistence.”Shechokedoutabitterlaugh.“Andthenmynextthoughtwas‘Ohright,Dadtoo.’Theydiedthesamegoddamnday—November10,2001.AndIwasgladtonothavethoughtabouthimforsolong.Manipulativeprick.”
MyheartstungsohardIpressedmyhandoverit.“I’msorry,Kristen.I’msorry.”Iwonderedifitwaseasierforhertotalkaboutthiswhilefacingthesky,bothofuscloakedindarkness.Butwhytonight?WasittheSazeracswe’dsippedafterdinner,orsomethingdeeper,somethingcomingtoahead?“Doyouthink…isthissomethingthat’sbeencomingupmoreforyoulately?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Maybeitwouldhelptotalktosomeone,”Isaid.“You’vementionedhowmuchyourtherapisthelpedyoubackthen.Haveyoulookedherup?Maybeshe’sstillpracticing.”
“LydiaBrightside—shewasacharacter.Maybeyou’reright.OrmaybeI’mjust…feelingsorryformyself.Whichisnotlikeme,youknow.Ihatethewallow.”
“Youdo!Rarelydoyouletmeindulgeinpityparties.It’swhy…”Iwasgoingtojoke,It’swhyIkeepyouaround.Butthetuginmyguthadreturned,thedesiretodistancemyselffromher—atleastuntilIhadmoreanswers.AboutJamie,aboutherparents,aboutherbafflingindifferencetoPaolo’sbodybeingexhumed.“It’soneofmanyreasonsyou’reunstoppable,”Ifinished.
Thesilenceswelledaroundus,mixingwiththecoldandpressingintoourskin.AnothermosquitozippedpastmyearandIsatup.
“I’mfreezing,”Iannounced.“I’mreadytogoinside.”
“I’mgonnastayouthereabitlonger.”Icouldn’tseeherface,buthervoicewasricketyandsmall.
AsIheadedforthecabin,fearslippedbeneathmyporousskin.Myflashlightmadeonlyapatheticglobeofsafetyinthedark;beyondit,LakeNovakfadedintoablacknesssoconsuming,Icouldn’tbesuretherestoftheworldhadn’tdisappeared.
Iwasalmostatthedoorwhenmyflashlightclippedsomeshiverymotion.Ijumpedandsearchedinthedark,andatrapdoorofhorroropenedinsidemewhenIfoundit:Beneathapallofflies,adeadrabbitlayonitsside.Itsneckwasgashedandbleedingred-black.
Kristen’swordsreturnedtome:Iwannakillthelittleassholes.Andwiththeaudio,avisual,Kristen’sconfidenthatchetswing.
No.Itookaninvoluntarystepbackward.Mysandalclippedtheedgeofafatroot,andsuddenlyIwassoaringthroughtheair.MyarmbangedintoatreeandIclawedatitsbarkasIfelltotheground.Isatthereforasecond,waitingtoseewhathurt.Thenmyankleeruptedwithpain.
“Kristen!”
Mycryscatteredthroughthetrees,reverberatedaroundthelake,rosetowardtheumbrellaofstars.
Iclearedmythroatandtriedagain,deeperthistime.“Kristen!Ineedhelp!”
IlistenedsohardIcouldfeelmyearsstraining.Thecricketsanswered,thenafewerrantfrogs.Alonelyowl—no,maybeitwasacoyote.
No,awolf.Ilookedaround,nervesthrumming,likemybloodwasonfire.
“Kristen?”
Noreply.Itrainedmyflashlightonmyankle,preparedtoseetheareapurpleandgrayandshiny-taut.Buttherewasnothingthere,nothingtoshowI’dfallen
AhandgrabbedmyshoulderandIscreamed.
“Youscaredthehelloutofme.”Ipressedbothpalmsintothepine-needleground.
“Iscaredyou?Ithoughtyouwereinside!IalmostpeedmyselfwhenIsawsomeoneouthere.Doyoumindnotshiningthatinmyface?”KristencoveredhereyesandIloweredmyflashlight.
“Iwasyellingforyou.”Icouldn’thidethecrossnessinmyvoice.“Ifellandhurtmyankle.Howdidyounothearme?”
“OhmyGod.”Kristendroppedtoherkneesandinspectedit.“I’msorry!Ihadmyearbudsin.Ididaguidedmeditationonthedock.”
“Itreallyhurts.”
“Ibetit’sasprain.Thosesuck.”Shehoistedherselfupandslidherarmundermine.“Let’sgetsomeiceonthat.Here,I’vegotyou.”Puttingweightonmylegtriggeredablastofmentholcold.“Leanagainstme.Let’sgo.”
Kristensetmeupwithmyfootonachair,abagoffrozenpeasrestingontop.Shegavemetwoibuprofenandrustledupafirst-ratefirst-aidkit,withanoldtubeofarnicacreamandananemic-lookingAcebandage,whichsheloopedacrossmyankleandfastenedwithtwoclips,theirhookssinkingintothefabriclikefangs.
“Didyouseetherabbitoutside?”Iaskedassherepackedthekit.“Idon’tknowwhatwoulddothattoit.”
“Probablyacoyote,”sherepliedwithoutlookingup.
Iglanceddownatmyankle,boundlikeamummy.“You’reprobablyright.”
—
KRISTENWENTTObedbeforeme,andIstayedcurledonthecouch,inthedomeoflightbeneathanantiquelamp.Mothsthrobbedagainstthewindowscreens.Mybrainclickedandclattered,awoodenrollercoasterascendingitshill.WhathadhappenedwithJamiethatpushedKristentodefaceheryearbookanddestroythecarving?HowcouldsheremainsoblaséaboutthediscoveryofPaolo’sbody?AndourconversationonThursday,whenshe’dbrieflyconvincedmeshewasasshakenasIwas—whydidthatnowfeellikeatrick,atrap?
Ihobbledtothekitchencounterandturnedonthehotspot—thistimeI’dpluggeditinmyself.JamieRusch:MyhearthammeredawayasIspilledhernameintoasearchbaronmylaptop.
Iscannedtheresultshungrily,thenfelttheEarthlurch,spinoffitsaxis.Iclutchedbothfiststomylips.
Anaccident,Kristenhadtoldme.AnaccidenthadclaimedJamie’slife.
Butitwasn’ttrue.
IntheverysamemonththatJerryandAnneCzarneckidiedinaragingfire,youngJamiehadkilledherself.
AndKristen,formerlyherbestfriend,currentlymine,hadliedaboutit.
CHAPTER25
JamieLeighRuschMemorialFund—thewebsitelookedgood,professional,even,withablack-and-whitephotoofthegrinninggirlthatstayedstuckinplaceasthetextoveritscrolled.Anextremelyupsettingmetaphor:Jamie,forevertrappedattwelvewhiletherestoftheworldmovedon.Shewasawkwardinthatpreteenway,withspindlybangsandashysmileandskinasshinyasanewlywaxedcar.Isquintedatthephoto—shedidlooklikeme.Samebrown,wavyhairandfullbrows.
Inblue,nearthetop,thefund’smotto:Raisingmentalhealthawarenessandservingthegreatercommunity.Thenallthephrasesthatmadethecauseofdeathclear:“endingstigma”and“accesstomentalhealthcaretreatment”andevenabitaboutchangingourlanguage,“brainillness”insteadof“mentalillness”and“diedbysuicide”inlieuof“committedsuicide.”AnembeddedvideonearthebottomshowedJamie’sparentsspeakingatabigblack-tiefundraiser,andIwatcheditwiththesoundturnedoff.ThenIclickedonGallery,expectingphotosfrompastfundraisers,but—oh,God—itwasphotosofJamie.
Jamieasabonnybaby,withapplecheeksandabuttonnose.Jamieasatoddler,holdingadrippyice-creamconewithsomethinglikereverence.Ganglyschool-ageJamiewithabasketballtuckedunderherarm.Thelastphotocenteredonjunior-highJamieinasilkygreenbasketballjerseyandshorts.Herteammatesheldherupontheirshoulders:adolescentgirlscheeringandsmilingather,allbracesandfrizzyhairandbodiesintheextreme,sometinyandcompact,othersstretched-outandgawky.Oh,whatanage:broad,suddenswingsfrombaseline,ourlargestdeviationsfromthemeanrightwhenwe’dkilltobequote-unquotenormal
Kristenhadbeenveryintobasketballbackthen,too,soIscannedthefacesonebyone.MyheartjumpedwhenIfoundher—whilealltheothergirlsweregazingupatJamie,who’dpresumablysunkthewinningbasket,Kristenwasintheback,eyesuncertain,staringstraightintothecamera.
IfoundJamie’sobituary:survivedbyherparents,ThomasandJenniferRusch,andalittlebrother,Luke.FounddeadonNovember24,2001.TwoweekstothedayafterKristen’sparentsdied.
Herbestfriendandbothparentshaddiedinthesamemonth.Andshe’dnevermentionedit.
IscrolledtothebottomofthepageandsawthattheaddressforthememorialfundwasinLasVegas,thatwackyman-madeoasis.IgoogledtheelderRusches;themomwasinmarketing,thedadarealtorinHenderson.FarfromtheirWisconsindwelling,thepineapplehousebetweenKristen’sfirsthomeandNanaandBill’smansion.TheMojaveDesertisanotherspotwheretherearehardlyanyshadows,sun-splashedbydayandmoonlitatnight.Thekindofplacewhereyoucouldburyabodybutthestars,allthosefloodlights,wouldn’tkeepitinthedarkforlong.
Kristenhadkeptthisfromme.Iknewaboutherchildhoodpet(GreenBeantheguineapig),thetimeshebrokeherwristshowingoffonaswingset,andtheridiculousEaster-themedplayshe’dwritteninfourthgrade,whichherclassmateshaddutifullyperformed.Ishould’veheardaboutthelossofaclosefriend,andwhateverbadthingledtothoseangryblackscribbles,nowhiddeninabasement’ssiltydark.
AthoughtI’dalmostbutnotquitehadwhenthebirthdaytreasurehunthadreacheditsdramaticconclusion:IsitreallyagoodideatobealoneinacabininthewoodswithKristen?
AfloorboardcreakedabovemeandIflinched.WhydideveryonewhogotclosetoKristenwindupdead?Thesuddenhousefire,ahorror-moviecliché…achillradiatedacrossmyshouldersasIstartedtotypeinanydetailsIcouldremember,anythingthatmightleadtonewsarticlesabouttheblazethatkilledherparents.ButbeforeIcouldhitEnter,theInternetsputteredout—I’dburnedthroughallfivegigabytes.Iclosedmylaptopandsatinthedarkwhilenightsoundspressedinaroundme.
—
WEROCKEDINourseatsastheroadswervedthroughthetrees.Kristenwastakingittoofast,acceleratingaswesnakedaroundhairpinturns.
“Whyisitsotwisty?”Iasked,clutchingthehandleonthedoor.
“Theyhadtocarvetheroadoutaroundallthelakesandswampsandridgesuphere,”shereplied.“It’sactuallyhillierthanyou’dthink.Likehere,it’sacrazydrop-offifyougoofftheroad.”Shegesturedmyway.
“Sohowaboutslowingdown?”
“I’vedrivenhereamilliontimes.”Shecareenedaroundanothercornerandtheseatbelttuggedatmyneck.
Itookadeepbreath.“Hey,soIwantedtoaskyouaboutyourfriendJamie.”
Shesquintedthroughapatchofsun.“Didn’tIsayIdon’twanttotalkabouther?”
“Well,Igoogledher.Iwascurioustoseeifshelookedlikeme.”Aham-fistedlie,butthebestIcoulddo.“AndIsawthatshe…diedbysuicide.”
“That’sright.”Camo-likeshadowsrippledacrossherfacefromthesunpeekingthroughthetrees.
“Ithoughtyousaiditwasanaccident.”
Sheshotmearaw,strangledlook.“Becauseit’spainfulforme.Okay?”
“I’msorry.Ireallyam.Iknowshewaslikeasister.”
“Yeah.”Sheshookherhairoutofhereyes.“Youknow,ifsomeonesaidtome,‘Doyouthinkatwelve-year-oldcouldstanditifbothherparentsdied,andthenherbestfriendsincebirthkilledherselfafewweekslater?’I’dbelike,‘Obviouslynot.’ButhereIam.Hereweare.”Sheturnedtome.“Itwasreallyhard.Losingher.Idon’teverwanttogothroughthatagain.”
Shestayedthatwayforabeat,watchingme.Uneasebillowedinmytorso.
“Ican’tevenimagine.What…whathappened?”
Sheshrugged.“Nooneknewhowmuchshewashurting.Notevenme.”
“Wasshedepressed?”
“Guessso,yeah.”
“God,shewasjustso…young.Forsomeonethatageto…”
“It’smorecommonthanyou’dthink.”Sheswallowed.“RememberhowwebothusedtoloveTheVirginSuicides?‘Obviously,Doctor,you’veneverbeenathirteen-year-oldgirl.’?”
Weburstoutofthewoodsandontoacountryroad,withabarononesideandadingygasstationontheother.Atthelastsecond,Kristentookasharpturnandpulleduptoapump.“It’llbecheaperuphere,”shesaid,beforesnatchingupherpurseandslammingthedoor.
Mybrainwaslikeminnowsinapail:Thoughtscrisscrossedandswarmedandbumpedintooneanother.WasKristenbeingweirdaboutJamie,orwasItheoneseeingmenaceinthewhollyexplicable,asKristenkeptinsisting?WasJamie’sdeathreallyasuicide,orhadKristenhad,well,somethingtodowithit…andwasIanawfulfriendforthinkingthat?Thentherewasthenextstepping-stoneinlogic,somethingI’dneverallowedmyselftofacehead-on:Couldallthisdeathmeanthat…thatthenightwithPaolo—?
KristenopenedthecardoorbeforeIcouldfinishthethought.Shejabbedabuttononthedashandtheradiobellowedon.Aswepushedbackintotheforest,Ireplayedourconversationinmyhead.AllKristen’stalkoflosingJamie,howshecouldn’tgothroughthatagain…whatwasthat?
Presentsrattledinthebackseat:thestoneelephantforPriya,niftybeerglassesmadefromoldbottlesforAaron.AniceMerlotblendandacardthankingNanaandBillforlettingmecelebratemybirthdayattheircabin.I’dsentNanaapolitereplytoheremail,thankingherforherwellwishesandaskingwhatshemeantbythelineaboutKristenacting“abitstrangelately.”Shehadn’treplied.Itwasodd—inheremail,shecameacrossasmoreconcernedaboutmethanherowngranddaughter.
Wesoaredpastopenfieldswithmachinescreepingacrossthemlikegiantmetalinsects.AnxietymountedasweapproachedthefreewayandthenthundereddownI-43.ClosertoMilwaukee,tocivilization,toreallife.HerethemysterysurroundingPaolo’sdeathfelteventruer—hereitwasanewspoint,notjustadistant,passingitemthatblippedoverthetransomandmeanderedawaylikeasatellitetraversingthenorthernsky.IpicturedLosAngelescopswaitingatmyfrontdoor,theneighborswatchinglikedull-eyedcows.
Thatnight,backinmyownbed,Idreamedofbeestingsandbatbites,tinypricksinmysmooth,tenderbark,settingoffacascadeofpain.Iwokeupsweatingandbeganunwrappingtheelasticencirclingmyleg.Ipictureditasthebandageuncoiled:abloatedwhiteankle,theskinofacorpse,plusaslashofsquid-inkblackstreakingdownonesideofmyAchillestendon.ButwhenIpeeledoffthefinalinches,theanklelookedthesameasalways.
CHAPTER26
“Ifeel…scared.”Myfingersweremovingoftheirownaccordagain,thethumbnailscrapingtheskinbeloweachtip.“Like,thisintensefearthatflaresupwhenIleastexpectit.”
Adriennenoddedgravely.“Whatdoesthatfearfeellike?”
Irakedatanotchinmypinkienail.Shehadn’taskedthequestionIdreadedmost,becauseI’dneedtolie:Scaredofwhat?OftheL.A.policeuncoveringsomethingwe’dleftbehind.Bloodonthehotelfloor,anuggetinthepileofasheswe’dabandonedinthefireplace.Fingerprintsonshovels.DNAinthetrunk.
Or,takeyourpick—Ihadplentyofoptions,plentyofbadmemorieslikebogeymentokeepmeawakeatnight.LikethatawfulnightinPhnomPenh.Kristen’seyesflashingassheswungthelampandtookSebastiandown.Stop.Stop.Stop.
“Ifeelitinmychest,”Isaid,“likethebeginningofanasthmaattack.”
Theclutchinmyribshadplaguedmethroughoutdinnerthenightbefore.AaronandIhadhadourbelatedbirthdaymeal;he’dwantedtocookeverythingforme,butI’dinsistedonmakingitaco-celebration,sincehe’djustpickedupacoveteddesignproject.Itoldhimaboutthecabin,aboutroastingmarshmallowsandwatchingsatellitesskateacrossthesky.IturnedthetaleofhowI’dtwistedmyankleandyelledtoasilent,unlisteningnightintoaslapstickcomedy,dorkyandcute.
Iomittedafewthings:Mydreamlike,phonelessshowdownacrossthekitchentablewithKristen.Themutilatedrabbitthatappearedinthedark.Digginginthebasementinthemiddleofthenight,angryscribbleswhereJamie’sfaceshouldbe.Likethenewsbroadcastinanairport—editthefeedtolimithysteria.Itwasexhausting,keepingalidonthefear.Itthreatenedtocrumplemylungsandgivemeaway.
“Whatdoyouthinkistriggeringit?”Adrienneasked.
Thereitwas.Asliverofivorynailpulledfree.
“I’mstill…uneasywithKristenbeingbackhere.”Icouldn’ttellherwhy,butdeepdownIknewtheanswer:IwasbeginningtoquestionifIcouldreallytrusther.Whichfeltsurprisingandstrangeandwrong—historically,Kristenwassynonymouswithsafetyinmymind.
“Whydoyouthinkthatis?”
Ishrugged.“She’sstillactinglikeeverything’sfine.Whichisonewaytodealwithsomethingscary,butIworryit’sanact.Like,she’skeepingitallinsidewhereitcouldgoofflikeabomb.”
Adriennenodded.“Andwhatmakesyouthinkshe’skeepingitin?”
Forstarters,sherefusestoevenacknowledgethewealthydeveloperteamingupwiththeLAPDtofindus.Herbehaviorwhenwe’dfoundtheCNNarticlehadbeensobizarrethatapartofmekeptwhispering,Wasthatinsincere?
“Shejustseems…off.Normallyshe’sajoytobearound—she’sintoxicating,youknow?Butsinceshecameback,thingsbetweenusseemstrained.AndLordknowsIwasn’tmyselfafterIwasattacked,soI’mnotjudgingherforit.Butit’slikeshe’saggressivelyhappyorsomething—fake.”
Adriennetiltedherhead.“It’snotable,howmuchtimewespendtalkingaboutKristen’semotions.Doyouthinkyoumightbeprioritizingthemoveryourown?”
“It’snotthat,”Ispitout.ButthenIsighed.“Iknowshecaresaboutme.AndI…it’snotwrongtobeworriedaboutmybestfriend.”
“Ofcoursenot,”Adriennereplied,andmydefensivenessslackened.Shecrinkledherbrow,gatheringherthoughts.“So,Kristenacting‘aggressivelyhappy’putsyouonedge.Itmakesyoufeelmoreworriedaboutherandfocusedonhowshe’sdoing.”ShewaiteduntilInodded.“Andyou’vesaidshe’ssupersmart.Andintunewithyouremotions,right?”Inoddedagain.“So,Iwonderifmaybeshe…sheknowsshe’shavingthiseffectonyou.I’mnotevensayingit’sintentional,butmaybeit’sawaytosortofmaintainthepowerbalanceintherelationship.Rememberwhenwetalkedabouthowwhenafriendshipchanges,someoneusuallypushesback?”
Nauseainmybelly,likeabudunfurlingintoafat,pricklyleaf.IwantedtotellAdrienneshewaswrong,butcombinedwithallthealarmsboingingaroundmyheadsincetheweekend,well…
“IalwaystoldmyselfKristenwasallIneeded,”Iadmittedasateartrickledpastmynose.“AndIdoloveher,Ido.ButnowthatIhaveotherpeopleinmylife—nowthatIhaveAaron…”IsnatchedupaKleenex.“Ifeelsoguiltysayingthis.Likeit’sabetrayal.”
“It’sokay,Emily.Anythingyousayhereisbetweenyouandme.”
Aloud,slowexhalation.“Ithinkshewantsmealltoherself.”Ididn’tknowituntilitwasoutofmymouth,andthenitwastrue:“Like,sheplannedthisbirthdaytripeventhoughItoldherIalreadyhadplanswithAaron.Justinformedhimshewastakingoverandhe’dhavetowait.”
“DidyouletKristenknowthatthatbotheredyou?”
“Ofcoursenot.Shewasjusttryingtodosomethingniceforme.”
Hereyebrowsflashed.“Somepeoplewouldsaythathijackingyourbirthdayplansisnotrespectingyourboundaries.”
Tearsbrimmedagainasthetruthlappedatmymind.Unavoidable.Irrefutable.Kristen’slovelooksalotlikecontrol.
“WhathappenswhenyouthinkabouttalkingtoKristenaboutthisstuffhead-on?”
Itfelt…unfathomable.“Ijusthateconfrontation,”Isaid.
“That’sfair—conflictisuncomfortable.Butsometimesbringingthingsintothelightcanactuallyhelp,right?”Istaredathermiserably,soshecontinued.“Let’sstepback.Whenyouwereakid,whathappenedifyoutriedtalkingtoyourparentsaboutsomethingtheydidthatupsetyou?”
Ishookmyhead.“Ididn’t.”
“Youdidn’t.Period.”
“Well,Ilearnednottoatayoungage.”Istaredatmyhands.“BecauseifIspokeup,Igotintrouble.Theywereinthebecause-I-said-soschoolofparenting.”
“Wow,Emily.”Shenoddedsolemnly.
Somethingfloppedinmybreast,somethingdeepandrawandspiky.Ipicturedmydad’sfuriouseyes,thesuddenshockofaspankingwhenIhadnoideaIwasmisbehaving.Howthepaincutoffmysingingmid-word.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit,ifthat’sokay.”
“Ofcourse.”ShewaitedasIblottedmycheeks.“Let’sgobacktoKristensteamrollingyourbirthdayplanswithAaron.Howdidhefeelaboutthat?”
“Hesaiditwasfine.Butwouldhetellmeifitwasn’t?”
“Whatdoyouthink?”
Abeat.“He’sjustsonice.Maybethat’smakingmeuneasytoo.”
“That’sareasontofeelscared?”
Isquirmed.“Ithinkthingsaregoingreallywell.AndnowI’mwaitingfortheothershoetodrop.Forthepasttocomebackandhauntme.”Fortheuniversetopunishmeforallthelies—theuniverseortheLosAngelespolice.
“Soyou’reafraidthathimtreatingyouwellmakesitmorelikelythatthingswon’tworkout.”
Iduckedmyheadaway.
“Doyouthinkthat’strue?”sheasked.
“It’snotrational,no.”
Shedroppedhernotebookontoherlap.“RememberhowIusedtobealawyer?Myjobwastogetthejurytolookattheevidenceobjectively.Cognitivebehavioraltherapyiskindofthesamething:Youexamineyourthoughtslikeascientistsoyoucanchallengetheonesthatdon’tholdup.Solet’slookatthisfear,thisbeliefor,orthoughtpatternyou’venoticed.Justbecauseafeelingisrealdoesn’tmeanit’strue.”
—
THATWASTHElessonAdriennehopedI’dtakeawayfromthesession.Becauseshethoughtmyfearswereirrational,thatabodyhadn’tbeenexhumed,thattherewasn’tagroupofarmedprofessionalsactivelytrackingmedown.Butthatevening,Isawheradviceinanewlight:Beascientist.Belikeanattorney,buildthecase.InowknewKristenwascontrolling,pullingthestringswhethershemeanttoornot.AndclearlysomethinghadrattledmylizardbrainduringmytimeatLakeNovak—enoughtomakemedoubtthatIcouldtrusther.
One,two,three,four,fivedeadbodies.Mysubconsciouskeptcounting,keptscrapingatourfriendshiplikeanartrestorerchiselingthegrimeoffthetruth.
Thequestionathand:WasKristenabystanderwithlinkstomultipledeathsthroughaseriesofunfortunatecoincidences…orwastheresomethingmoreatplay?
Mystomachclenchedandbilescaldedmythroat.Thehugenessoftheaccusationswoopedthroughmeandjangledmybalance.Idroppedintomydeskchair,breathinghard.
Apartofme,tuckedundermyconsciousness,hadbeencirclingthisquestionforweeks.I’dheldback,policingmythoughts,unwillingtostateitsodirectly.Becausetheimplicationsweredevastating:Kristen,myoldestandclosestfriend,theonlyonewhosawtheugliestpartsofmeandlovedmeanyway,wholovedmeunconditionally,mightbeamurderer.ButIcouldn’tignoretheevidencesloshingagainstmelikeapoundingsurf:thebodies,allthosebodies.Coincidencedidn’tproducethatkindofpile.Ifeltsuddenlycold,andmyarmsandjawbegantoshake.
Focus,Emily.Ibreatheddeeplyandimaginedallmyfeelings,heartbreakandhorroranddisbeliefandfear,crumpleddownintoalittleball,likethelumpinthefireplaceafterweburnedupPaolo’sthings.That’swhatwasatstake—arrest,murdercharges,ourfuturesruined.IhadtoknowifIcouldtrustKristen.Ihadtoknowifshewastrulysafe.
HadKristenkilledanybody?Thatwasthebigquestion:notself-defense,notaccidentaldeath,butmurder.Thequestionsbelowitpoppeduplikegoosebumps.Whathadhappenedtoherparents?ToJamie?WashertakedownofSebastiananisolatedincident?AndwhatreallyhappenedthenightPaolodied?
Somethinghystericalfrothedupthroughmythroatandcameoutasamoan.Focus.Ifthiswereanissueatwork,thenextstepwouldbecomingupwithactionitemsandcarryingthemout,onebyone.
First,IreadeverythingIcouldfindonthefirethatkilledKristen’sparents,whichwasn’tmuch:afewsentencesinthelocalpaper,notingonlythatthecausewasundetermined;obituariesforbothparents,JerryandAnne,plusapleafordonationstoacharityinlieuofflowers.IsearchedforKristenCzarneckiand2001.Thenhergrandparents,onebyone.IwasslightlysurprisedtofindthatNana’srealnamewasTabitha,whichfeltjustasmade-upasNana,butotherwise,nobombshells.
Whocouldhelp—whocouldtellmethetruthaboutKristen?Jamiewasdead.TherewasNana—Ithoughtbacktoherstrange,suspiciousemail,andtotheendofthatodddrinkattheirenormoushome.Nanainthekitchen,nervouslyjammingherphoneintomyhands.Perhapsshewasanally,eagertohelpbutunabletosaymore.Itriedcallingandhungupwhenhervoicemailclickedon.Irepliedtomyunansweredemail,too,apolite,“Justfollowingup!”
Idrummedmynailsagainstthespacebar,thinkinghard.Wait—therewassomeoneelseKristenhadopenedupto,someonewhoknewthewholestory.Mymindwentblankforamoment,andthenitblazedoutofmyfingertipsandintoGoogle:LydiaBrightside,therapist,Wisconsin.Herheadshotsmiledatmefromthetopofthesearchresults:awomaninhersixtieswithshortreddish-grayhair,smalleyes,armsfoldedinwhatwasclearlythephotographer’ssuggestedpose.Soitwasn’tanalias,anamecrinkledbyKristen’smemory.
ThefirstlinkwasabioonthewebsiteforsomethingcalledWestmoorBehavioralServices:
LydiaBrightside,MD,PhD,isaboard-certifiedpediatricpsychiatristwithasubspecialtyinConductDisorderTreatment.SheservesasfoundingexecutivedirectorandchiefmedicalofficerforWestmoorBehavioralServices.Dr.Brightsidehasmorethanfourdecadesofexperiencestudyinganddevelopinguniquepharmaceuticalandpioneeringtherapeuticinterventionstotreatbehavioraldisordersinchildrenandyoungadults…
Huh?Inavigatedtothecenter’sAboutUspage:
Foundedin1995,WestmoorBehavioralHealthisaleadingresidentialtreatmentcenterinWisconsinforchildrenandteensstrugglingwithdevelopmentaldisordersandmentalandbehavioralhealthissues.
This…didn’tsoundanythinglikethegriefcounselingIassumedyoungKristenhadundergone.ButmaybeDr.Brightsidewasinprivatepracticeaswell?IfoundherCVonanacademicwebsiteandscouredherworkhistory—nope,she’dworkedexclusivelyatWestmoorBehavioralServicessincecofoundingitaquartercenturyago.WasKristenkeepingevenmorefrommethanIthought?
Ipulledthecenteruponamap:Itwasabouttwohoursfromhere,inasemiruralareadappledwithlakes.
IncollegeI’ddonatedplasmaafewtimes,andwhilemostoftheprocessdidn’tbotherme—theprick,thewaiting,themarbledbruiseandwoozinessafterward—therewasonesensationIspentthewholeforty-fiveminutesdreading.I’llneverforgetthefeelingofplasma-strippedbloodfloodingbackintomyveins,asnakingrushofunpleasantcold,likefrozenlightning.
Andthat’sexactlyhowIfeltwhenmyeyessankbelowthemaptotheuserreviews.Coldnesstearingthrougheverywherebloodshouldbe.
Noonecomeshereexceptbycourtorder,thefirstoneread.
Andthentherealupshot:Thisiswherejudgessendkidswhoaretoorichtogotojuvie.
Juvie.MyGod.Washertimethererelatedtothethreedeathscirclingherheadlikehorsefliesatthatage?Wassheadangertoherselfand,moreterrifyingly,others?
IfKristenhadbeeninvolvedinajuvenilecourtcase,therecordswouldbesealed.Butwhowouldtrytoprosecuteher?Whatdidshedothatwouldlandherinaninpatientclinic,meetingregularlywithWisconsin’spreeminentexperton“conductdisorder”?Perhapsshestartedactingoutasshegrievedherparents’death:anger,despair,andsurvivor’sguiltallchurningwiththehormonesofpuberty.Maybesheclappedbackatteachersandmouthedofftohergrandparents.Butwouldthatlandherinabougiealternativetoajuveniledetentioncenter?Thatseemedmorelikethepropertreatmentforachildwho’d…
Iflashedtoit,Kristenatthelakehouse,bottleoflighterfluidclutchedinherhand.I’mreallygoodatbuildingfires,she’dsaid.And:Mymomwasn’tevensupposedtobehome.Nowaycouldtwelve-year-oldKristenhave…
Myheartraced.Thiscouldn’tbeacoincidence.AndifitmeantwhatIthoughtitdid—iftheanswerreallywas“Murder,Kristen,yes”—then,God,whatdidthatsayaboutourlastnightinChile?Hell,whatdidthatmeanforme,rightnow?
Inarush,IcreatedathrowawayemailaddressandcontactedWestmoorundertheguiseofbeingagradstudentresearchingpsychiatriccareinthestate.Justgeneralsniffingaround.NothingspecificaboutKristen.
AjoltasIhitSend,andthenIsatback,feelingunseemly.
Thenextmorning,anemailwaswaitingformefromWestmoorBehavioralServices.
DearMs.Schmidt,Thankyouforyourinquiry.Toansweryourquestions,Westmoordoesnotacceptinsuranceandthereforeservesaveryselectivecommunity.WeworkcloselywiththeWisconsincourtsystemtoidentifyminorswhowouldbenefitfromourinpatientservices;familiescannotcheckapatientinwithoutareferral.Westmoor’smissionofprovidingasafe,supportiveenvironmentforchildrenwithseverebehavioralissuesisuniqueinthestate,althoughweseesimilarmodelsinotherregions.
“Severebehavioralissues”—soitwastrue.YoungKristenwasdiagnosedwiththisasachild.Butsurelyshedidn’tspendweeksormonthsinaninstitute?
Butthenmyeyeswidened:
InregardstoDr.Brightside’shistory,shehasseenpatientsatWestmoorexclusivelysincethecenteropenedin1995.Sheisnotinprivatepractice,andfull-timeresidentpatientsatWestmoorareheronlyclients(inadditiontogrouptherapywithparents,siblings,etc.).I’veattachedaPDFofourbrochure.PleaseletmeknowifIcanbeoffurtherassistance.
Andtherewasmyanswer.
Ahandfulofyearsbeforeshebefriendedmeoutsideaneconclass,Kristen—KristenwhofelledSebastianwithalampandthencalmlyhatchedaplantosinkhisbody,KristenwhoswungabottleofwinesoharditreshapedPaolo’sskull—hadbeenlockedupinacenterforemotionallydisturbedyouths.
Shit.
CHAPTER27
LOSANGELESFAMILYOFFERS$1MILLIONREWARDINHOMICIDEINVESTIGATIONThefamilyofPaoloGarcía,a24-year-oldbackpackerwhoseremainswerefoundinaremoteChileanvillage,isnowofferinga$1millionpayouttoanyonewithinformationthatleadstoanarrest.Whileholdingaframedpictureofherson,FernandaGarcíapleadedforjusticeforhim.FernandasaysonApril25,shereceivedaphonecallinformingherthatthebodyofherson,Paolo,hadbeendiscoveredbylocalpoliceintheElquiValley,amountainousregioninnorthernChile.Thatcallwouldshatterherlife.“Itbreaksmyheartthathewastakenawayfromus,”Fernandasaid.Fernandaandherhusband,RodrigoGarcía,CEOoftheLosAngelesrealestatedevelopmentfirmCastilloDevelopment,expressedhopethata$1millionpayoutwouldincentivizewitnessestocomeforward.GarcíawaslastspottedatacrowdedrestaurantinPuertoNatales,aporttowninsouthernChile,onthenightofMarch30.“Someonemusthaveseensomething,”Rodrigosaid.“Themoneywon’tbringhimback,buthedeservesjustice.”
AlmostfourweekspassedbetweenwhenPaolowaslastseenandwhenhisbodywasfoundonApril25inashallowgraveabout25metersfromtheroadinArroyito,asparselypopulatedagriculturaltowninnorthernChile,accordingtoreports.Policeconfirmedthatanautopsyhadbeenperformed,butnoadditionalinformationonthecauseortimeofdeathhasbeenreleased.Paolowasdescribedasafun-lovingandgregariousyoungmanwhowasfinallyfulfillingadreamoftravelingtheworld.BorninCalifornia,PaologrewupinBarcelona,Spain,whereheenjoyedplayingtennisandcookingforfriendsandfamily.Attheageof16,hewasdiagnosedwiththyroidcancer,andhisparentssaythatbeatingthediseaselefthimdeterminedtotravelandengagewithpeopleallovertheworld.Ifyouhaveinformationthatcouldhelpdetectives,callLosAngelesPoliceortextthetipto637274.
Iwasatwork,diggingintomysadsaladandscanningthenewsalmostonautopilot,whenIsawtheheadline.Mystomachroiled,threateningtoexpelthelimpgreensI’dalreadyswallowed.Shit.Thiswasbad;thiswasvery,verybad.MyheartbeatfasterandfasterasIread,badumbadumbadum,untilitseemedtobeconvulsinglikeapersoninthefinalthroesofsuffocation.
Nothinglikeamilliondollarstojogpeople’smemories.God,thereweresomanypotentialwitnesseswhosepathshadbraidedwithours,abigtangledknot:Thecarswepassedonourpredawndrivehometothehotel.Thewaiteratthepatiobar,ourfellowpatrons,thebartenderwhowatchedmefreakoutandblubberandscreech,inEnglish,thatmywallethadbeenstolen.Christ,wewerenothingifnotmemorable.Oh,plus—whoeverhadturnedalightonasweclankedtheshovelsandflashlightsbackintotheshed.Thewhistlingcustodianwhotookaphotoofusinourbathingsuits—hadhenoticedwe’dmovedhistools?Hadthehotel’shousekeeperwonderedwhytheshowercurtainwashungupdifferently?Waytokeepalowprofile,morons.
And,Jesus.Tennisplayer,amateurchef,freakingcancersurvivor?ThismadePaoloreal;thismadewhatwe’ddone,eveninthenameofself-defenseand-preservation,moreodious.Untilnow,IcouldseePaoloassubhuman—Sebastiantoo—andlocktheminamentaljailcell:BADMEN.Not:badmenwithhobbiesandlovedonesandpasts.Nauseaboltedupthroughme.
“Yousignedupforyoga,right?”TheSlackmessagefromPriyafeltlikeanintrusion,fartoomundanefortheemergencyonhand.
Iwasabouttobowout,buthesitated.Normalcy—Ihadtomaintainit,hadtogothroughthemotionslestanyonethinkanythingwaswrong.Ihadascheduletokeep;AaronandIweregrabbingdinneraftermyclass.Andanyway,DrishtiYogahadservedasmytempleafterCambodia,thekeytocalmingmedown—bettertovinyasathantositathome,readingthearticleoverandover.Iclosedthebrowserwindow.“I’llbethere.”
—
SHORTLYBEFORESIX,Priyahoistedhermatoverherheadandslungthestrapacrossherchest:Artemiswithherquiverofarrows.IhadamissedcallfromKristenandtextedthatI’dtryherlater.Therewas,Irealized,nothinginparticularforustodo.Inthepast,I’dhavesoughtoutKristen’sreassurances:We’refine,weweresmart,noone’slookingforus.Now,afterallIknewaboutherpast,thedeadbodiesstuddingherpersonalhistory,Ijustwantedtostayasfarawayfromheraspossible.
Atthestudio,PriyamadeabeelineforthelockerroomwhileIwaitedtorentamat.Myanklefeltbetter,butthiswasmyfirstclasssincetheinjury.Isteppedintothechangingroomandstoppedshort.
AtfirstIthoughtIwashallucinating,thewayI’dseenPaoloatbaggageclaimallthoseweeksago.
Butno—itwasher.PriyaandKristenwerestandinginside,half-changed,headsbentoveraphone.
“Kristen?”
Shelookedupandgrinned.“Priyasaidyouguyslovethisteacher!”
“I—Hi.Ididn’tknowyouwerecoming.”
“KristenwastellingmeabouttheprivateyogaclassyoutookinChile,”Priyaadded.“Iwantedtoseetheinstructorshewastalkingabout.”
“IfoundheronInstagram.I’mobsessedwithher.”Kristenwentintoaspot-onimpression,herfakeaccentthick:“Keepyourkneessuave…nowwebowtothesky.”
Ismiledbackbutfeltmyeyebrowsknit.Whydrawattentiontowherewe’dbeen,andwhen?
PriyaturnedtocramherstuffintoalockerandIgaveKristenaWTFlook.Sherespondedwithascrunchedbrowandshakeofherhead:Whatisit?Anotherwomanburstintothechangingroom,bangingthedooragainstthewall,andwehustledtogetreadyforclass.
InWarrior3,Ifoundmybalance,toughandfirm,butnexttome,Kristenwaveredandthenfell,brushingmyoutstretchedarmandknockingusbothoverintheprocess.
Then,inhandstandpractice,Kristenkickedherwayupasifshehadsomethingtoprove.Shestoodtherecalmly,palmsasfeet,bloodrushingtoherfacebutherexpressiondetermined.
—
KRISTENANDIhadparkedneareachother,soweshuffleddownthesidewalktogether.AssoonasPriyawasoutofearshot,Kristenturnedtome.
“What’sgoingon?You’rebeingweird.”
“I’mbeingweird?”Myfingersflewtomycollarbone.
“DoyounotlikemehangingoutwithPriya?”
“It’snotthat,”Isaid,thoughitkindofwas.Istartedwalkingagain.“Didyounotreadthenewstoday?Thefamily’sofferingamillion-dollarreward.We’rescrewed.”
“Hey.Doweneedtoturnourphonesoff?”
Istaredather.“You’reseriouslygonnamakemeturnmyphoneoffwhenyouwerejusttellingPriyaaboutChile?”Heedlessnessfollowedbyparanoia—thewhiplashsetoffmorealarmbells.
“What,abouttheyogastudio?”Shegrinned.“Youhaven’ttoldpeopleaboutthat?Maribelawasawesome.”
Westoppedinfrontofmysedan.“Idon’tthinkweshouldbedrawingattentiontothefactthatwewerethereatthatexacttime.”
Sherolledhereyes.“Ifwe’retryingtoactnormal,newsflash:Talkingaboutyogaatyogaisnormal.”
“Iguess,but—”
“Em,nooneisdrawingalinebetweenusandthat,”sheinterrupted.“Here,ifyouwanttokeepdiscussinglet’satleasttossourphonesinyourcar.”
Icomplied,slammingthedoorwithgusto,thenturnedtoher,fistsonhips.“You’rebeingreckless.”
“What,youthinkPriyaisgoingtoseethenewsand,like,calltheFBI?”
“Iknow,but—”
“Hey,I’vegotahottip.”Sheheldherhanduplikeaphone.“ThesetwowomenIknow,sweetgirls,law-abiding.Theywereinthatsameregionoftheworldasthatbackpackersometimelastmonth,soyoushouldprobablysendaSWATteam.Amilliondollars,please.”
“Iknow.It’snotlogical.”Ishookmyhead.“Youshouldreadthearticle.It’sterrifying.”
“Fine,butit’llprobablyjustresultinadelugeoffalseleads.Ifanything,itprovesthey’vegotnothing.Andiftheydomiraculouslygetasfarastalkingtous:Yeah,wechattedwithhimatabar,therewereatonofpeoplethere,Imadeoutwithhim,heleft,neversawhimagain.Hewasavagrant,Emily.”
“Butsomeonecouldhaveseenus…loadingthetrunk,orputtingtheshovelsback,or,ormaybewedidn’tcleanaswellaswethoughtinthesuiteortherentalcar…”
“Nooneknowsanythingbutus.Youandme.”Shenarrowedhereyes.“Unlessyou’vetoldanyone.LikeAaron?”
Asparkleroffearinmychest.“Ofcoursenot.”
“Emily.”Shesettledherhandsonmyshoulders.“Weneedtostaycalmandsticktogether.Nowisnotthetimetofreakoutandstartactingweird.”Sheglancedatagaggleofteenagersamblingpast.“Okay?Wegotthis.”
Inodded,becauseitfeltliketherightthingtodo.Butintruth,Icouldn’tshutmyselfintomycarfastenough.Iwatchedherreachthecorneranddisappearbehindanofficebuilding.
Ihadtofacethefacts:AfterChile,KristenandIhadfundamentallyopposingideasofwhatPaolo’sdeathmeantforourfriendship.Evennow,withthewallsclosinginonus,Icouldonlyseeitasareasontocutallties.ButKristensawthingsdifferently.AndKristenwasusedtogettingwhatshewanted.Inlife,andespeciallyfromme.
Isawitagain,Paolo’slegsonthefloor.Toesupturnedlikeastargazer.
AndKristen’seyes,pleadingandwild.
Emily,she’dsaid.Wehavenochoice.
—
ICHECKEDMYemailwhenIgothome,andfeltacoldjabwhenIsawoneofthesenders:CasaHabita,thehotelwherewe’dstayedinQuiteria.Thespotwiththecharmingwood-burningstoveandextra-thickshowercurtain.Iclickedonitasnauseacurled:
DearMs.Donovan,ThankyouforyourrecentstayatCasaHabita.IcontactyouregardingtheunfortunatedeathofanAmericantouristinthisarea.Attherequestofthelocalpolice,allhotelsintheregionareaskedtocontactallvisitorswhostayedinthefourweekspast.IfyousawanythingorhaveinformationaboutPaoloGarcía,replytothismessagepleaseandwewillconnectyouwiththelocalpoliceman.Thankyou.
Crap.We’dpaidincash,butI’dbeentheonetofilloutthereservationformatcheck-in,sinceitwasinSpanish.ItextedascreenshottoKristenwithnothingbutaquestionmark,andsherepliedimmediately:Nope,don’trememberanything.Butthatisalongspanoftime—whowould?
Whowould?Whowould?AlarmshotupthroughmeandIstifledagroan.ThenIsawthetimeandjolted;evenifIleftnow,I’dbelatefordinnerwithAaron.Dammit,whywasIalwaysbehindonthingsthesedays?Lifewasmovingtooquickly,jerkyandunnatural,likeanearlyblack-and-whitefilm.Irantomycarandbackedintothestreet,thenwhippedthroughayellowlight.
Atthenextintersection,Ibreatheddeeply.Ihadtorelax,hadtoseemnormalwithAaron.Hadtonottotalmycarinmydistractedrushtomeethim.Gettingkilledinacollisionrightnow—myvitalorgansmangledbymetalandplasticandupholsteryandglass—wouldbealittletooonthenose.
AhellofawaytoaddtoKristen’sbodycount.
—
IDIDN’TFEELliketalkingabouther,butAaronwasinsistent.Itwassweet,inaway—heaskedhowthingswerebetweenKristenandme,andwhenIblanchedatthequestion,hegrewdeterminedtohelp.
“Isshejealousthatyou’respendingtimewithme?”Hedabbedhismouthwithanapkin.Helookedsocute:freshfromtheshower,hisshaggyhaircombedback,handsomeinaslimbutton-downandjeans.“Ithoughtwhenawomangetsintoanewrelationship,herfriendsgiveher,like,twomonthsofintensecoupletimebeforetheyexpecttoseeheragain.”
Isighed.“Itmightbepartlythat.ShemovedhomeandIwasn’tsittingaround,waitingforherwithopenarmsandawide-opencalendar.”Ipushedmyplateofpenneallavodkaaway.Aaronhadpickedoutahole-in-the-walltrattoriawithhomemadepasta,andIwasdousingmyfeelingswithcarbs.“Youknowthisismyfirstrealrelationshipinforever.She’snotusedtohavingtoshareme.”
“Well,thenwe’llinvitehertohangoutwithusmore!Idon’tmind.”Hetwirledlinguiniagainstaspoon.“Themorethemerrier.”
Hisopenness,hischeer—twoofthebigreasonsIfellforhim.Butinthisparticularequation,theycouldn’tsaveus.Iswallowed,hatingwhatIhadtosaynext:“She’skindof…judgyofpeopleIdate.”
Hecockedaneyebrowandgrinned.“Fine,butbehonest.Haveanyofthembeenasundeniablycharmingasme?”
“Ofcoursenot!”Itriedtomatchhissmile.Allnight,I’dbeendistractedanddistant,unabletokeepupwithhisjokes.
Kristen’swordsechoedbetweenmytemples:Youseemtopickbadapples.Andmygratefulresponse:IknowIcancountonyoutogivemeyourhonestappraisal.
“Letmeputitthisway.”Ipickedatthecrustonmybreadplate.“Youknowwhenafriendstartsdatingsomeonewho,deepdown,sheknowsisbadnews?Soshekeepshimawayfromherfriendsbecauseshethinkstheywon’tapprove?”Aaronhadseveralclosefemalefriends,soIknewhecouldrelate.HiseyebrowsroseandIrushedtofinishthethought:“Thisfeelslikethat,butinverted.Iknowyou’reamazingandIdon’twanthertotellmeotherwise.”
“Soshedoesn’tthinkI’mamazing?”Hisglassesreflectedthecandlelight.Icouldn’ttellifhiseyeslookedwoundedbehindthem.Myheartsqueezed.
“Shelikesyou!”Ishookmyhead.“It’snotpersonal.Shedoesn’tthinkanyoneisgoodenoughforme.”
“She’snotwrong.Youarewayoutofmyleague.”Hepulledahunkofbreadfromthebasketandchuckled.“Ihavenoideawhatyou’redoingwithme.”
“Shutup.You’rethebest.”Igrabbedhishand,thenraisedittokisshisknuckles.“Imeanit,Aaron.Ireallylikeyou.”
“Idigyoutoo.”Hesqueezedmyhand.“Allright,aslongasyou’renothidingmefromKristenoutof,like,shame.WhichIwouldtotallyunderstand,tobeclear.”Hewavedawaymyprotests.“Naw,it’ssweetthatshehassuper-highstandardsforherfriends.”
“Iguessthat’strue.It’snicethatshecares.”Ileanedback.“MyparentsjustsayvaguethingsabouthowIshouldprobably‘settledown.’?”
“Ooh,haveyoutoldyourparentsaboutme?”
“No,notyet…butpleasedon’ttakethatpersonally,’causeIdon’ttellthemanything.”Settledown.It’sthesamethingwetellafussythree-year-old—stopmakingnoise,stopannoyingme.Makeyourselfsomeoneelse’sproblem.“Wait,doyourparentsknowaboutme?”
“Suredo!JustthatI’mdatingsomeonenew.They’renot,like,drivingdownfromAppletontomeetyoutomorrow.”
Awaiterscoopedupourplates.AaronexcusedhimselfandIsippedmyjammywineasifIcoulddrinkinhissweetwords.Theyreachedmybellyandsatthere,sparkling.
IhopedI’dconvincedAaron,madehimseethatKristen’swholenot-good-enough-for-Emilythingwasjustafront.Itwasaboutkeepingmealltoherself.Iwasonlynowrealizinghowwideherterritorialstreakreallywas.
Butwait.Whetheritwasconsciousornot,I’dbeenkeepingKristenawayfromAaronfromthestart.EveninChile,beforeheandIwereacouple,Ihadn’tmentionedhim—I’donlybroughthimuponthelastnight.I’dtoldmyselfitwasbecauseIdidn’twanttojinxit,butitwasmorethanthat.
Adistantthoughtbegantoform,likeathunderheadrollingin.
WhenIdidtellheraboutAaron,somethingchanged.AndIhadn’tdoneitdelicately—I’drolledtheannouncementintomyrejectionofherplanforustobackpacktogether.
Thethoughtsailedcloser,larger,takingshape.
Ihearditasshemusthaveheardit:No,Kristen,Iwon’tgoalongwithyourplan.No,Idon’twanttospendhalftheyearwithyou.And,inthesamebreath:There’ssomeonespecial,someoneI’mchoosingoveryou.
Icouldsenseitsshadownow,thelastmillisecondbeforetherevelationslidintoplace.
Itmadeaterriblekindofsense:Kristenwasusedtogettingwhatshewanted.ShesawAaronasathreat.Andshe’ddoanythingtobindustogether—tocreateanothersecret,theonethingIcouldn’tevertellhim,awallseparatinghimfromme.Fromus,Kristenandmyself.
MyGod.She’ddoanything
AaronreturnedandIrearrangedmyfaceintoasmile.
“Didtheybringthedessertmenu?”heasked,spreadingthenapkinoverhislap
“Notyet.”Icrossedmylegsandthelotusflowertattooonmyanklewinkedupatme.
—
“ITHINKTHERE’SsomethingwrongwithKristen,”Isaid,thenblanched.“Er,wrongwithourfriendship.”
Adriennenoddedandwaitedformetogoon.Itwasniceofher,fittingmeinforanemergencysession,butnowthatIwashereIrealizedIcouldn’tactuallyvoiceanyofmyfears.Finallyshesaid,“Wronghow?”
“Maybeourrelationshipisn’tsuperhealthy,”Isaid.“Ialwaysthoughtofherasprotective,like,shealwayshadmyback.Butnow…”
Thepieceswereallcomingtogether.Evidenceaccumulating.Bodiespilingup.
Atrailoffailedrelationships—evensomefemalefriendships,nowthatIthoughtaboutit—inmywake.
“Thewayshetalkedmeoutofdatingcertainpeopleinthepast…Ithinkyou’reright,Ithinkshe’spossessive.”Possessiveandpossiblydangerous.Ahellofacombination.
“Irememberyoubroughtherupwhenyoutoldmeaboutyourlastboyfriend,”Adriennesaid.“Colin,right?”
Ipressedmyfisttomylips.“That’sright.Everyonelikedhim—everyonebutKristen.Shepressuredmetoendthingswithhim,butwhenIlookbackontherelationship,hedidn’tdoanythingwrong.”Ishookmyhead.“Idon’twantthesamethingtohappenwithAaron.”
Ican’tlethernearhim.Ithoughtitsoquickly,soconfidently,itshockedevenme.
“Soyou’retryingtobreakthepatternthistime,”shesaid.
“Right.ButIdon’tknowhow.I’m…theideaofgettingoutofthefriendshipscaresme.”
OfcourseIcouldn’tmentioneverythingridingonouralliance.Theslayingsthatyokedustogether.Theghostsoftherough-handedbackpackershoveringbetweenus.
“Whatdoyouthinkwillhappenifyousetsomeboundaries?”
Therewasasoftthumpinthehallwayandwebothturnedtowardit.Myheartvroomedasthefearswhorled:Thoughitwasn’tlogical,Ipicturedcopsbreakingdownthedoorandviolentlyarrestingmeformurder.Myliferuined,mycozy,rose-coloredfuturesnuffedoutlikeacandle.Myworldcollapsing.
Andthenthethoughtsclimbedhigher,akeychange:I’mafraidofmyskullcollapsing,crackedlikeaneggshellbyblunt-forcetrauma.Ormylungscollapsinginadeadlyhousefire,singeingfromtheinsideassmokefillseveryairsac.
“Thatwasprobablythenextclientlookingforthebathroom,”sheannounced,turningbacktowardme.“Soyouweresaying.You’rereadytosetnewboundaries?”
Inodded.“Iwantsomedistance.Idon’twantallourbaggagecomingbetweenAaronandme.”
“Simplyacknowledgingthatishuge.”Herfingersbrushedthesideofherclipboard,thendropped.“Ikeepdoingthat.”
“Whathappenedtoyournotebook?”That’swhatfeltoddabouttoday’ssession:Inplaceofthetypicalspiral-boundpadwasasheathofprinterpaperstucktoaclipboard.
“Oh,it’ssomewhereinmybackoffice.”
Itiltedmyhead.“Soit’smissing?”She’dassuredmethatallwetalkedabout,everythingshejotteddown,wouldremainconfidential.
“No,I—Ididn’tseeitwhenIgothere,butIwasrunninglateanddidn’twantyoutowait.”Sheleanedforward.“So.It’sgoingtotakesomestrengthtochangethedynamic.Becauseshe’sgoingtopushback,andyou,too,willbetemptedtoreturntowhat’scomfortable.”
Inoddedslowly.“Iknow.Butthingsaredifferentnow.”NowIhadAaron.Andnowthescalesovermyeyeswerethinningbytheday.“AaronandIstarteddatingwhileKristenwasinAustralia.Andthingsweregreat.Ourrelationshipdidn’tfeelfragileuntilKristenshowedupinMilwaukee.”
HadsheflownallthewaytoWisconsintocomebetweenAaronandme?Afterall,she’dmaterializedonmydoorstep,abracadabra,justaweekafterItoldherabouthimand,inthesamebreath,saidnotoherbackpackingpitch…
Anewthoughtpopped:God,wasitreallyacoincidencethatshelostherjobthesecondourtripended?OrhadshequitherjobandswitchedtoplanBwhenshenoticedIwasn’tcallinghereveryhour,likeIhadafterCambodia?WhensherealizedIwasdivingheadfirstintoanewrelationship—onethatmightreallygosomewherewithherninethousandmilesaway,unabletocalltheshots?Whenshefiguredoutthatthetiesoffreshtraumahadn’tboundustogetherlikeshe’dhoped?
Adriennescribbledsomethingonherprinterpaper,thentappedthepen’scap.“You’vedonealotofgreatworkinjustafewweeks,”shesaid.“Decidingtostandupforyourselfishuge.Ittakesanenormousamountofbravery,especiallysinceitsoundslikeKristenwon’tletgowithoutafight.”
Stop.Stop.Stop.Iwasanidiot.IknewwhatKristenwascapableof—I’dseenitfirsthand.
Hergazevaultedtotheclockonthewall.“That’sallourtimefortoday.”
Igatheredmythingsandsaidgoodbye.Alarmwassweepingthroughme,growinginspeedandintensity.MaybeIwasbeingparanoid—maybethiswasallahugemisunderstanding,andIwasmisinterpretingKristen’sinnocentgesturesassomescarySingleWhiteFemaleshit.Butifmyterrifyinghuncheswerecorrect,sweetLord,Ineededtoavoidher—andkeepAaronfarawayfromhertoo.Thiswasn’tthekindofthingwecouldtalkout:So,Kristen,youkilledanothermanandmovedhalfwayaroundtheworldtomakemeyoursalone,huh?DoesthatmeanIshouldfearformynewboyfriend’slife?
Itrudgeddownthehalltothewaitingroom.Someonewashunchedovertheirphoneonthesofathere,andIgaveablandsmilewithoutmakingeyecontact.Myhandhadjustgraspedthedoorknobwhenthestrangerspoke.
“Emily?”
Myheartdropped.Ifrozeandturnedslowly,firstmyhead,thenmywholebody.
Kristenraisedhereyebrowsandsmirked.“Well,hello.”
CHAPTER28
Sheisstalkingyou.It’swhatmybrainspitoutfirst,awarning,thesamelowvoicethatpipesupwhenyoupassagroupofleeringdudesorwalktooclosetotheedgeofacliff.Backoff.Runaway.Fightorflight,cortisolandadrenalineconspiringtokeepyousafe.
Shefrownedandgavealittlelaugh.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Itcameoutasdefensive,andIswallowedhard.
“I’mseeingatherapist.Foranintake.”Sheglanceddownthehall,thenatme.“Priyarecommendedher.Ididn’trealizeyouweregoinghere?”
Idroppedontoaseat.“Priyatoldmeaboutthisplacetoo.”Ituckedmypurseontomylap.“AreyouseeingAdrienne?”
“Um…”Sheglancedatherphoneforamoment,thennodded.“AdrienneOderdonk?It’sgoingtobehardformetonotaccidentallysay‘Badonkadonk.’?”Shecrackedasmile.“Ifinallytookyouradvice.You’vebeentellingmetoseesomeoneandIfiguredaslongasI’m,youknow.Carefulwithmywords,it’sokay.”
Ithought,Youlie.Ithought,You’resotidyatexplainingthingsaway.ButinsteadIsaid,“Sowe’rebothseeingatherapistinsecret!SoMidwesternofus.”
“Iknow!Hashtag-stigma.”IheardAdrienne’sdooropendownthehallwayandstoodtoleave.“Well,goodluck.”
“Textmelater,”shecalled.
Iwasalmosttomycarbythetimetheotherdetailsfellintoplace:Adrienne’smissingnotebook;thatfaintthunkoutsidethedoor.Andhow,justafewdaysago,I’dconfessedtoKristenthatIwishedIcouldcomeclean,unburdenmyselfofthetruthaboutSebastianandPaolo.HadKristenfiguredoutI’dbehereandsomehowconfiscatednotesfrommysessiontocheckwhatI’dtoldAdrienne?Toscanforanythingincriminating,makesureIwasn’tskatingtooclosetothetruth?Orhadshefollowedmetothetherapypractice,skulkingintheshadowsandthenpressinghereartotheofficedoor?Calmdown,Emily,you’rebeingridiculous
ButwhatifIwasright?
—
BUTIHADtobewrong.Paranoid,ridiculousEmily.AsIspoonedpastaintoabowlandcarrieditintothelivingroom,Ireplayedtheconversationinmyhead.Kristenkeptpoppingupwhereshedidn’tbelong—myyogastudio,mytherapist’soffice,myfrontdoor.Itwasironic:I’dfeltguttedwhenshe’dmovedtoAustralia,butthenI’dbuiltalifeformyselfhere.Andnowshewasrammingherselfintoeverypartofit.
KristentextedahelloasIcuedupashow.Commercialsatthebeginning,employeepricingonSUVsandlaundrydetergenttoughenoughfortoddlers’stains.Mundanestuffforwomenwithfamilies,womenwithordinarylives.Womenwithoutabrowserhistorycheckingiftheirbestfriendwasjustabitmurdery.
“How’ditgotonight?”IhitSend,sawthatshewastypingback.
“Prettygood.Shesaidshe’llrefermetosomeoneelseinthepractice.Conflictofinterest.”
Isentbackaquestionmark,andsheadded,“ShefiguredoutIwastheKristenyoutalkabout.”
Ascattershotsprayoffear.Shit—ifKristenwasn’talreadyworriedaboutmyblabbing,shewouldbenow.
Ispentawhilerewordingmytext,tryingtogetitright.Finally:“Gotit.Ihopethatdoesn’tmakeyoufeelweird—I’mextremelycarefulaboutyour/ourprivacy.Butofcourseyoucomeup,youaremybestfriend!”
“Ifigured.”
Asilence,nolittletypingdots,andIcouldn’tthinkofanythingtosayeither.AfteramomentIjumpedupfromthecouch,shookoutmyhands,andliftedmyphoneoncemore:“Willyougoagain?Withadifferenttherapist?”
“Notsureyet.Itwasanintensesession.”
Intense.Iswallowed.“Adrienne’sapro.”
“Sheseemssmart.”
Istaredatit.ItprobablyjustmeantAdrienneisintelligent,she’sgoodatherjob.Butitcouldalsomean:Idon’tlikeher.She’ssmartenoughtoreadyou—toreadbetweenthelines
“I’mgladyougaveitashot.Superbraveandawesomeofyou.”Iaddedafewclappingemojistounderscoremypoint.
Shewastypingonandoffforawhile,andthenalongishtextcamethrough:“We’llseeifIgoagain.IhadtomakeupanexcusebcNanaandBillwouldbesojudgyaboutit.Butthanks,andyoutoo.Hey,rememberwhatIsaidinmybirthdaycard.Readit,rememberit,believeit.We’reinthistogether.”Shefinishedwithaheart.
Ithoughtitover,thendecidedshewastalkingaboutthatPS:Ifyoueverforgethowamazingyouare,youknowwhotocall.BecauseInever,everforget,andI’dbehonoredtocounttheways.Irespondedwithakissyemojianddroppedmyphoneonthecouch.
IturnedofftheTVshowhalfwaythrough,unabletoconcentrate.Thoughtswerechurning,swirlinglikevultures.WhocouldItrustwhenIcouldn’ttrustmybestfriend?CouldIcountonhertokeepusbothsafe?WhatwouldshedoifIdidn’tremainattachedtoherlikeabarnacle?WouldshehurtthoseIloved?
Orwouldshe…thethoughtmademeill,itwassorepugnant,soverboten,morerepulsivethanincestorpedophiliaoranygut-leveltaboo:WouldKristenkillmeifthingsdidn’tgoherway?IthoughtofherpointedstarewhenIaskedaboutJamie—Idon’teverwanttogothroughthatagain.Iletoutawhimper.Forsomanyyears,I’dseenKristenasaconstant,herloveasundeniableasgravity.NowitwasclearthatshewasmoreofaloosecannonthanI’drealized.Andthatthatcannonjustmightbezeroedinonme.
Focus,Emily.Ihadtoreviewtheevidence,comeupwithaplan.Idroppedmybowlonthecoffeetableandmarchedintomyroom.TheemailfromWestmoorwasstillopenonmycomputer.IloadedthepicturesI’dtakenofKristen’syearbookandphotos,theoneswithpoorJamie’sfacescribbledout.IpulledupthescantarticlesI’dfoundaboutthefire,aboutJerryandAnneCzarnecki’suntimelyend.
TherewereoptionsIhadn’texhaustedyet,avenuesIhadn’texplored.LikeNana—I’dtryharder,seewhatshe’dofferupabouthergranddaughter’smental-healthhistory.OrIcouldcallSecondChanceAntiquesandbegGretaformorestories.
ButwhenIsnatchedmyphoneoffthesofa,Kristen’stextstillstaredbackatme:“Hey,rememberwhatIsaidinmybirthdaycard.Readit,rememberit,believeit.We’reinthistogether.”
Somethinghadbeenbuggingmeaboutthecard—itreadabitstiffly,especiallytowardtheend.LesslikehowKristennormallytalked,andmorelikeoneofher…
WhathadIdonewithit?Idugaroundinthepileofmailonmykitchentable,thenfounditinatotebaginmybedroom:
DearEmily,HAPPYBIRTHDAY!It’shardtobelievewe’vebeenfriendsfor10+years.Ican’timaginemylifewithoutyou—inaway,IguessIowethosedouchebagsinourStats101classathank-you.I’msoproudofthesmart,strong,independentwomanyou’vebecome.AndIcountmyselfsoluckythat,after2yearsapart,we’llfinallyliveinthesamecityagain!I’vebeenthinkingbacktothoselatenightswhenwe’dsneakoutat4or5amandsplashinthewaterandthenwatchthesunriseoverLakeMichigantogether.Rememberthat?Whenwe’dfeellikeweweretheonlyonesawakeinthewholeworld.Whenwe’dfeellikenotjustEvanstonbuttheentireworldwasours.Whenwewoulddryrightoff—perfectly,boldlyourselves.XOXO,
Kristen
PSIfyoueverforgethowamazingyouare,youknowwhotocall.BecauseInever,everforget,andI’dbehonoredtocounttheways.PPSLastlineoftheday,promise!
“Lastlineoftheday”—whynot“lastclue”or“lastsurprise”orsimilar?Becauseshewasreferringtothelastlineofthecard,theonethatsoundedabitwonky.Iranitthroughherusualcodesandhaditinseconds.“Dryrightoff—perfectly,boldlyourselves.X”D-R-O-P-B-O-X.
Mypulsesurged,pushingoutagainstmyfingersandthroat.Dropbox—weoccasionallyusedthehostingsitetosharefiles,mostlytripphotossiphonedfromourdigitalcameras.TheURLofherDropboxaccountfilledinautomatically.
Myhearthadreachedmyearsnow,whooshinglikethesurf,likeadeafeningsnaredrum.Iscannedthroughthefoldersthere:workstuff,camerauploads,datedsubfoldersburstingwithpicturesfromsomeofourearliertravels.Andthenmybreathcaught:Therewasanewfolder,createdonmybirthday,labeledChile
Relax,Emily—it’sprobablyjust,duh,photosfromChile.
Butwehadn’tsharedourphotosfromthattrip,hadn’tcreatedasharedalbumandcomparedshots.Isteeledmyself,thenclicked.
Therewasanotherfolderinside,thisonelabeledPhnomPenh.AsquallofhysteriarosethroughmeandIcrouchedover,preparedtovomit.What.Thehell.Wasthis.
Iclickedagain,andapop-upappeared:Fileispassword-protected.Beneathit,afieldwithablinkingcursor.ItriedEmily,Quiteria,Paolo,Sebastian.IthoughtabouttextingKristen,butfearheldmeback.CouldshetellIwastryingtoaccessthefilenow?ThatI’drealizedIhadn’tcompletedherlittletreasurehunt?
Igrabbedthecard,presseditopenatthespine.
PSIfyoueverforgethowamazingyouare,youknowwhotocall.BecauseInever,everforget,andI’dbehonoredtocounttheways.
Counting—thatwastheclue.Andcometothinkofit,wehadn’tmetinStats101;itwasStatisticalMethodsinEconomics.Thecardwasriddledwithnumerals,andIunderlinedthemhastily:
HAPPYBIRTHDAY!It’shardtobelievewe’vebeenfriendsfor10+years.Ican’timaginemylifewithoutyou—inaway,IguessIowethosedouchebagsinourStats101classathank-you.I’msoproudofthesmart,strong,independentwomanyou’vebecome.AndIcountmyselfsoluckythat,after2yearsapart,we’llfinallyliveinthesamecityagain!I’vebeenthinkingbacktothoselatenightswhenwe’dsneakoutat4or5amandsplashinthewaterandthenwatchthesunriseoverLakeMichigantogether.Rememberthat?Whenwe’dfeellikeweweretheonlyonesawakeinthewholeworld.Whenwe’dfeellikenotjustEvanstonbuttheentireworldwasours.Whenwewoulddryrightoff—perfectly,boldlyourselves.
Iinputthenumbers,breathinghard,andhitEnter.
Myshouldersslumped.Incorrectpassword;pleasetryagain.
Ireturnedtothecardonemoretime.Screwyou,Kristen,fortakingwhatIthoughtwasasweetsentimentandturningitintoariddle.Likethisisallagame.
Aha—relieflikeakeyslippingintoalock.Whenwe’dfeellikeweweretheonlyonesawakeinthewholeworld.
Itriedthecombinationagain,thistimewitha1attheend.Ismiled,almostclapped,whenthefilebegantodownload.
Iwatchedtheprogressbarslidetotheright,thenopenediteagerly.
Itfilledthescreen.Ittookmeamomenttomakesenseofit,thedizzyingcolors,overexposedwhitesandblacksandcolorfulblobsatfunnyangles.
Andthenittookform.Theblobswerelanterns,strungacrossabusystreet.Therewerepeopleeverywhere,bustlingtoandfro,butinthecenterweretwoshapes,clearandcrispintheswirlingnightscene.
OneofthemwasSebastian,handsomeandaliveandsmilingashetouchedmywaist.Theother,ofcourse,wasme.
CHAPTER29
Myfistflewtomymouthasmyfeetscrambledbeneathme,poundingdownthehallwayandmakingittothebathroomjustintime.Itallcameup,dinnerandmore,deeperdownintome,thebitterbileofmytrueinsides.Sweatandtearsandsnotstreamedout,too,andthenIleanedagainstthetub,eyesclosed,chestheaving.
Thatnight.Thatnight.I’dpicturedthatmomentsomanytimesinmymind’seye,asplitsecondafterSebastianandIhadagreedtogobacktothehotel,whenasuddenflashhadblindedme.I’dalwaysthoughtitwasanaccidentalphotobomb,thatwewereinthebackgroundofsomestranger’svacationphoto,andiftherightpersonnoticedandconnectedthedots,I’dbescrewed.Thereitwas,invividcolor:proofthatI’dbeenwithSebastianrightbeforehewentmissing.
But…Kristen.Kristenhadtakenit.Kristenhadhaditallalong.
Itwasathreat,then.Areminderthatshehaddirtonme.Iglancedaroundformyphone,thenremembereditwasallthewayinmybedroom.Butshe’dbeencoyinourtextconversationtonight,walkingtheknife’sedgebetweensweetandsuspect.Somethinglike,RememberwhatIwroteinthecard,believeit—we’reinthistogether.IfIgodown,youdotoo.
IgatheredmyenergylikeitwassomethingIcouldmopupoffthefloor.Onshakinglegs,Istaggeredtomyroom.ThephotowasstillstaringoutfrommyscreenandIX’edoutofit.Christ,she’dhaditforoverayear.Shehadn’tdeleteditbackwhenwepromisednottoleaveatrace.Insteadshe’dbeenwaitingtodeployit.Aswhat—collateral?Blackmail?
Anotherviolentshudderrushedthroughme.Shit.She’dsetthismousetraponmybirthday,anentireweekago.RightbeforeIbegantowonderifIshouldsevertiesfromherforgood.
Asifshe’dknown.Clawsout.Shewhippedoutthetrumpcard,theproofthatI’dnever,everbeoutfromunderherthumb.
Therewassomethingelsethrummingbeneaththehorror,somethingbrighter,anditsuddenlyboomedintotheforefront:Iwasoddlysatisfied,almostthrilled,tohavemyanswer.Iwasn’tparanoid,andmyanxietyhadn’tbeenunfounded.WasKristenderanged?Disturbedandmanipulative,atminimum.She’dkilledSebastian;she’dkilledPaolo.WhywasItwistingmyselfintoaknotdebatingifthatmadeherakiller?
ThedoorbellrangandIstaredinthedirectionofthefrontdoor,alertasameerkat.Iflickedoffthelightandcreptintothehallway,hopingwhoeveritwaswouldgiveupandgoaway.
Buttheyrangagain.Istoodverystillandlistenedassomeonethumpedonthedoor,thentriedtheknob,aninsistentjiggle.
MyphonechimedinmybedroomandIscuttledtowardit—havingmyphoneonmypersonwasn’tabadidea.IswipeditoffthedeskandsawKristen’snewtext:“Icanseeyouturninglightsonandoff,dummy,”plusalaughingemoji.
Isuckedinairandbreatheditout.Okay,Emily.Okay,okay,okay.Ituckedmyphoneintomybackpocketandwaltzedtothefrontdoor.
“Hi!”Shehuggedme,carkeysjanglinginherhand.“IstoppedbymynewplacetotakemeasurementsandthoughtI’dseeifyou’rehome!Wait,what’swrong?”
“I…Ijustthrewup.”Iscrapedmytongueagainstmyteeth.“IthinkIatesomebadricotta.”Ikeptmyhandonthedoor,smiledweakly.
“OhmyGod.Doyouwantmetogetyouanything?Throwingupistheworst.”
“Thanks,butI’mfine.Ijustwanttoliedown.Ifeelkindof…”Suddenlymyheaddidfeelswoopy,likeImightpassout.ThefloorpitchedbeneathmeandIgrabbedthewall.
“Areyouokay?Here.”Sheloopedanarmundermine.“Doyouneedadoctor?Youlookawful.”
“I’mfine.I’mjustgonnagotobed.”Asifsomeonehadturnedonafaucet,myhandsweresuddenlyfizzinghard,tinglingandtwinklingontheinside.“Thanksforstoppingover,butI—”ThefizzrushedupintomyskullandIdoubledover,myshoulderpressedagainstthewall.
“Keepyourheaddown.You’reokay.Doyouwannasit?”
“I’mfine,”Irepeated,eyessqueezedshut.Thefrothyfeelingwasbeginningtoclear.Ibreathedin,thenout.Hyperventilation,that’swhatwashappening.Notenoughoxygentothebrain,orwasitcarbondioxide?
“C’mon,I’llhelpyoutoyourroom.”ShepulledmeforwardandIflashedbacktothatnightathercottage,herpullingmeacrossaknottedterrainofbranchesandrootsandrocks.Pasttherabbitthatonlyamadwomanwouldkill.Ifunneledallmyattentionintomyleftfoot,thenmyrightone.Rhythmic,likecanoeing.Likediggingagrave.
Afterashorteternity,wereachedtheedgeofmybed.
“Thankssomuch,Kristen.I’lltextyou,okay?”
“Feelbetter.”Sheturnedtoleaveandmyeyesthuddedclosed.Already,mychestwasloosening,therushinmyearstapering.IwoulddealwithKristenlater,whenI’dhadsometimetothink.Fornow,Ihadtoprotectmyself.
Irolledontomysideandclutchedmypillow,thenfroze—Kristenwasstillthere,stillinmybedroom.Standingovermydesk,headdown,herbacktome.
“Jamie,”sheremarked,andherfingertouchedthescribbleonthescreen.
Alltheairrushedoutoftheroom.Oxygen—therewasnone,aperfectvacuum.
Sheclickedthemouse.“?‘TwoDeadFollowingBrookfieldHouseFire,’?”shereadaloud.
Anotherclick.“?‘DearMs.Schmidt,thankyouforyourinquirytoWestmoorBehavioralServices.’?”
Slowly,slowly,sheturnedtofaceme.
“Emily,whatthefuck.”
CHAPTER30
“Kristen…”
Hereyesboredintomine.“Whatisthis?Whywereyougoingthroughmystuff?AndwhythehellwereyoutalkingtoWestmoor?”
Ikeptopeningmymouthandthenclosingit,likeafishdanglingfromahook.
“What’sgoingon,Emily?I’msickofyourlies.I’msickofyourbullshit.”Sheswungherarmasshesaidit,sendingmylaptopandseveralpenscrashingtothefloor.
“I…Iwasjusttryingtofindout…if…”
“What,youthinkIneedtoexplainmyself?”Lightningshotthroughhereyes.“Okay,fine.Ihadafightwithmybestfriend,andthen,becauseIwastwelveyearsold,Iscribbledherfaceoutinmyphotos.AsforWestmoor,yes,Ispentsometimethereaftertheviolentandpainfuldeathofmyparentsandthesuicideofmybestfriendinthespanofafewweeks.Ihadabreakdownandneededpsychiatriccare.AndI’vebeenprettygoddamnopenaboutit,consideringit’sstillpainfultotalkabout.ItoldyouaboutDr.Brightside.”
“I’m—Ijustwantedto…”
Sheshookherhead.“Wow.Sothisiswhyyou’vebeenavoidingmeliketheplague.God,I’mpathetic,tryingsohardtomakethingsrightwithyou.”
“Okay,ifyou’resuchagreatfriend…”Ipointedatmycomputer,upsidedownonthefloor.“ThenwhythehellareyoublackmailingmewithaphotoofSebastianandmetogether?ThatIneededtosolveadamnriddletofind?Whatkindofdevotedbestfrienddoesthat?”
Hermouthdroppedopen,thenemittedascoff.“YouthinkI’mblackmailingyou?”
“Wesaidwe’ddeleteeverythingfromthetrip!AndIdid!”Iwasgainingsteamnow.“Youliedtome…forayear.”
“Christ,Emily,thinkaboutwhatyou’resaying.”Herpalmssplayed.“HowwasIsupposedtoknowwhatwouldhappennext?ItookitbecausehewashotandyourarelybringguyshomeandIthoughtyou’dthankmelater.”
Shelookedsoearnest,withthefrustratedenergyofafive-year-oldwhoneedsyoutoknowshe’stellingthetruth.But…butthiswasmoreofherskillfulmanipulation,right?
“Thenwhykeepit?Whysetitupformetofind,forChrist’ssake?”
“BecauseIwasscared.”Sheclutchedherhandstogether.“Youlookedreadytocrack,Emily.Iwassoscaredofwhatyoumightdo.”
Iflickedatearaway.“Sowhysenditnow?Howisthatnotblackmail?”
“Isentitbecauseyoukepttalkingabouttellingsomeone.Howmuchyouwantedtobeopenwithyournewboyfriendorwhatever.It’snotblackmail,it’s…areminder.Thatthere’saphototyingSebastiantoyou.Inever,everwanttouseit.ButIneededtomakeyousee.”
Whatthehellkindoflogicwasthat?Ishookmyhead.She’slostherdamnmind.
“Andalso,wow,thenerve,”shewenton.“Whatdidyouthink?ThatI’mthisbloodthirstypsychopath?”Shetookasteptowardthebed,andIscrambledupintoaseatedposition.“You,ofallpeople.”
AfterallI’vedoneforyou…afterIkilledamantosaveyourlife.Ibracedtohearit,heartpounding.
Butinstead,shecrossedherarms.“AfterwhatyoudidtoSebastian.”
Istaredatherforamoment.“Wait,what?”
“Don’tplaydumb.Iwatchedyoukillhim.”
Beneathme,thebedslanted,aboatonrockyseas.
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Kristenhadhithimwithafloorlamp,swiftandhard,senthimsprawlingontothefloor.Butthatwasn’twhatkilledhim;thatjustdrewblood,knockedhimoffhisfeet.Andthen…
“Areyoukiddingme?”sheyelped.“Youwouldn’tstopkickinghim.Ihadtopullyouoffhim.”
Stop.Stop.Stop.Bloodtricklinglikepaintdownthefloorlamp.Behindme,Kristen’seyeswide,thunderstruck.Bloodmottlingherhands,herwrists,hershoes.
“No.”Ishookmyhead,thenheardmyvoiceriseintoashout:“No!That’snothowithappened.I…Ihadtostopyou.”
Sebastian’sheadonthefloor,nestledagainstalegofthemetalbedframe.I’dlookedintoKristen’sfuriouseyes,andthendetectedmotionbeforeIcouldevenprocessit.
Threekicks,four,bloodstainingthemetallegandpoolingintothecracksinthelaminatefloor.
“Stop.Stop.Stop.”
FinallyI’dheardKristen’spleas,distortedasifwewereunderwater,scubadivinginthedeep.Crying,beggingmetostop.AndI’dturned,grabbedforher.Shelungedtowardhim,murmuringinhorror,butIdraggedherawayandintoahug,andwe’dleanedagainsteachother,shaking.
“No,”Isaidagain,weakernow.“That’snothowithappened.You’re…confusingme.”
“That’sexactlyhowithappened.”Shereachedtheedgeofmybedandstopped.“YoukilledSebastianandI’mthereasonyou’renotinjailforit.”
CHAPTER31
YoukilledSebastian.
No.Thiswasn’ttrue.Itcouldn’tbe.Thiswasclassicgaslighting—messingwithmyhead,screwingupmymemorieswiththedeftnessofagrifter.Oramagician,poof—Kristenhadmadeherculpabilitydisappear.Mystomachtwistedlikeatowelwrungdry.
ButIhadtostayalert,Ihadtobesafe.Strategic,foronce,likeher.AndthesafestdistancebetweenKristenandmyselfwasasmanymilesasIcouldmanage
“Okay,”Isaid.“ClearlyI’mnotthinkingstraight.I—ItoldyouIlookedintoJamiewhenwewereUpNorth.Yousaidyouroldstuffwasinthoseboxes.”Ipressedmydamppalmsintothecomforter.
“Ican’tbelieveyouwentthroughmythings,”shereplied.“Suchaviolation.”
“I’msorry.Ireallyam.Iforgotaboutituntil…well,findingthatphotoofSebastianandmesentmeintoatailspin.Iguessitwas,like,apsychologicaldefensetoseeingthepictureandjustkindalosingit.Iwentdownarabbithole.”
“Arabbitholeofwhat—researchingthefirethatkilledmyparents?Contactingmyoldtherapycenter?Whatareyouevenaccusingmeof?”Shinyteartracksribboneddownhercheeks.
Shit—mydefensemadenosense,notwhenI’dcontactedWestmoordaysbeforefindingtheDropboxphoto.
ButKristenseemedtooworkeduptonotice.“Idon’tknowwhattosay.ThatsomeoneIloveandtrustwouldevenhavethesethoughtsaboutme…”Herhandslidtohermidriff,asifI’dstuckaknifethere.“Ican’ttellyouhowhurtfulitis.”
Guiltpulsedthroughme,hotshameinfusingthecoldfear.“I’msorry.”
Shepressedherfingertipstoherforehead,thenheavedasigh.“I’mgonnagetgoing.”
PreteenKristenscribblingoutherbestfriend’sface.Checkingintoafacilityforhelpwiththesquallofgrief.She’dputforthsuchaconvincingargument,suchaconsistentaccount.MyheadwasspinningtooquicklytodecideifIevenboughtit.Forthemoment,Iwasstillscubadiving—treadingwateruntilIcouldfigureoutwhattodonext.
“I’mnotgoingtotellanyone,”Isaid.Hergazejerkedmyway.“AboutChileorCambodia.Iswear.We’reinthistogether,andIdon’twanteitherofuskissingourlivesgoodbye.”Irolledmylegsoffthebedandrose.“I’mserious.Ijustwanttomoveon.Sodon’tworry,okay?”
IcrossedtoherandsheflinchedasIneared.Istoodawkwardly,myhandshanginginfrontofmychest,andfinallysheshrugged.
“Getsomerest,”shesaid.“I’llletmyselfout.”Iwatchedasshegrewsmallerandsmallerinthehallwayanddisappearedintothefoyer.Sheclosedthedoorwithathunk
Ilaycorpselikeonthebedforalongtime,watchinglightfrompassingcarsstreaksidewaysalongthewall.IthoughtaboutthephotoofSebastianandme.Whyhadshesavedit,ledmetoit?Herexplanationmadesenseatfirstglance,butitdidn’tholduptoscrutiny.Itwaslikeastarsodimthatitdisappearswhenyoulookrightatit.She’dcalledthepictureareminder.ButifshesentittoSouthAfricanauthorities—evenifsheincludedmyname—IcouldtossKristenundersuspiciontoo.She’dbeentoWestmoor;shewastheonewitharecord.Wouldshereallybethatself-destructive,blowingupbothofourliveslikeanextremistwithabombstrappedtohertorso?
MymindvaultedbacktothatnightinPhnomPenh.AllthosetimesI’dreplayedit,theflashinKristen’seyes,herlungingherlegbackandthenswingingitintohisbody…butno,nowthatshe’dpointeditout,anothervoicewascallingbullshitonthataccount.Thatwasn’ttherealmemory,justoneI’dinexpertlypastedontop.Brainscandothat,rewriteanending—funnyorgansobsessedwithself-preservation,withmakingoneselfright.NowIcouldflickbackandforthbetweenthetwoscenarios,fakeandreal,thekickcomingfromherfoot,frommine.Likeapicturesearchinachildren’smagazine.ScenarioAandScenarioB:Spotthedifference.
Right?OrwasKristenmanipulatingme?Maybesheknewifshesaiditconfidentlyenough,ifshelookedatmehardlikeI’dlostmymind,I’dbelieveher.I’dconvincemyselfI’ddoneit.
Somuchpower.Somuchconfidence.Confidence—thatwasanotheritemonthelistoftraitsthemodernwomanissupposedtoexude.Notvanity,notKardashianbluster,butadeepfearlessness,LizzoVibes,BeyoncéPower.BigDickEnergy.Itwasanothertrap:Theywantusfearlessbutalsofearful,ourswaggerfalteringwhenapasserbytellsuswhathe’dliketodotodatass.Whenamanpinsyouagainstthewalllikeabutterflyonaboard.I’dfeltsoscared,andthen,justassuddenly,soangry.I’dwantedtomakeSebastianafraid.Iwantedhimtohurtlikehe’dhurtme.
NowthebestthingIcoulddowasactonathoughtI’dhadearlier:Getaway.PutasmanymilesbetweenmyselfandKristenaspossiblesothatIcouldthink,dammit,withouttheconstantfearofherpoppingintotheframe.AndI’dbringAaronwithme,lestshehaveanyideasabouteliminatingtheinconvenientobstaclebetweenherandme.
SoIcalledhim.ToldhimIneededtogetawayfortheweekend,beggedhimtofindsomeonetocoverhisshiftsatCaféMona.Ilookeduptraveldealsaswespokeandonecitycalledouttome,needledatmysenseofdéjàvu,thoughIwasn’tsurewhy.Allthesunshine,maybe.Noshadowsinwhichtohide.
Aaronpromisedtoseeifhecouldgetoffwork,andwehungup.Panicstretchedinsideme:Whatifhecouldn’t?Whatifhebackedoutnow?WouldIbookasolotrip,grabmythingsandrunsothat…what?IcouldsitinahotelroomandfixateoverthatmurkynightwithSebastian,alone?
Stop.Stop.Stop.Anhourago,I’dfeltsosureitwasinmyvoice.Ipressedtheheelsofmyhandsagainstmyeyes,pressinguntilasprayoflimeshotoutagainsttheblackofmyeyelids.LiketheNorthernLights.
Finally,finally,myphonevibratedonthecoffeetable.Allofmycellsjumpedamillimetertowardthesky.
Butitwasn’tAaron.ItwasKristen,ofcourseitwasKristen,alwaysKristen,Kristen,Kristen.
She’dtexted,“I’vebeensobbinginmyroomallnight.Ican’tbelieveyou.”
ShameswoopedthroughmeandIunlockedmyphonetoreply.
AndthenIpaused.AcommercialontheTVwasblaring,anannoyingjingleaboutthebestwirelessnetwork.
Getaway.Ithadbeenechoinginmyheadallevening.AndyetIwasabouttoengage,knee-jerk,andstartthecyclealloveragain.
Isetmyphonebackonthetable.Pickeduptheremotenexttoit,crankedupthevolume,andsettledintothesoftsofabehindme.
—
AARONTEXTEDASsoonasIstoppedthinkingabouthim:“Wencancoverforme.LET’SDOIT.”Severalcelebratoryemojis,confettiandchampagne.Iclosedmyeyesandgrinned,pulledthephoneagainstmyheart.ThankGod.
ButasIopenedthebookingsite,doubtscreptin.I’dhavetopretendtobenormal—notjustnormal,excited—twenty-fourhoursaday,asAaronandIwanderedthereddishstreetsandwatchedthesundipoverdistantmountainsandatemealstogether,breakfast,lunch,anddinner.
HetextedmehisbirthdaysothatIcouldbookourflights:God,Idon’tevenknowhisbirthdayyet.Wouldwetravelwelltogether—wouldhefindmegross?WhatifIgothangryorsickorsnappishorstressed?Whatifwegotintoahugefight?
Afight.WithAaron.Inourownoasis,ajumbleofglassandsteelinthemiddleofthesunbakeddesert.
Andthenanewthoughtpaddedin,asslyandunassumingasacat.
IsAaronsafewithme?
—
IWOKETOastringoftextsfromKristen(“Canwetalk?”“Ireallythinkweneedtotalk.”“Areyouignoringme?”)andmutedtheconversationbeforeIevengotoutofbed.AsInearedmydeskafterameeting,Isawthatmyphonewasringing.IwasabouttosnatchupthehandsetwhenIrealizeditwasKristen,oneofthefewnumbersIknewbyheart.Ijabbedaroundinthephone’ssettingsuntilIfoundtheDoNotDisturbfunction.
“It’sbeenringingoffthehookforthelasthour,”thedesignerkitty-cornerfrommeannounced.
“Sorryaboutthat.”Mystomachtightenedlikeafist.
Iwasvacant-eyedinmeetings,quietlyreplayingSebastian’sfinalmoments:WasthatKristen’sfootbashingintohisribs,ormine?Ifitwastheformer,whycouldIseeitsoclearly,feeltheheavythumpofmytoesmeetinghisflesh?Towardtheendoftheday,asIpassedthefloor-to-ceilingwindows,aneeriefeelingwashedoverme.IswiveledmygazetoRogersStreetbelow.Kristenwouldbeoutthere,Iknewit—facingthewindow,handsinherpockets,solemnandstaringandstill.Theshotinahorrormoviestampedwithasudden,dissonantchord.
Iscannedthesidewalkthroughthebuddedboughsoftrees,overthefruit-treepetalsstipplingthecement.Therewasateenager,anoldmanwithacane,afrazzled-lookingwomanwithababystrappedtoherbosom.
Iturnedandhurriedon.Kristenwasn’tthere.
—
ONTHEDRIVEhomefromwork,myheartpoundedateveryredlight.She’dstoppedcallingandtextingaroundtwo,andthiswasworse,thesuddensilencesolouditsizzledagainstmyeardrums.IheldmybreathasIturnedthelastcornerontomystreet,bracedtoseeKristenoutfront.
Buttherewasstillness,emptyspace.EventhebirdsclosedtheirbeaksasIletmyselfin,lockingthedoorbehindme.IwaspartwaythroughyankingdowntheblindswhenIstartedtolaugh.HereIwas,coweringinmyownhomelikeKevinfreakingMcCallisterinfearofmysupposedbestfriend.ThefriendwithwhomI’djustspentfourdaysinaremotecabininthewoods.Lookwhat’sbecomeofyou.
ThenIgotatextfromKristen,thefirstinalmostfourhours.
Myribcagelockedupandmyfistflewtomymouth.Bad.Thiswasvery,verybad.
ItwasascreenshotofthetiplinefortheSouthAfricanPoliceService.Hercaption:“Don’tthinkIwon’tturnoverthatphoto.”
CHAPTER32
IcalledKristenimmediately,headpounding,jawjudderinglikeajackhammer.Thefirstringcutoutafteramoment,andthenwewerebothontheline,breathingateachother.
“Sothatgotyourattention,”shesaid.
TheliesdrippedoutofmebeforeIevenhadtimetothink—excuses,placations,supplicationstopleasepleasepleasenotbesomadatme.Naturalasslippingoutofaforeignlanguageandintomymothertongue.“I’msorryImissedyourcalls,itwassobusyatworktoday,andIwantedsometimetoreallythinkaboutwhatIwantedtosay—”
“Juststop.”Hervoicecracked.“DoyouhaveanyideahowawfulI’vefeltforthepasttwenty-fourhours?Howdeeplyyouhurtme?”
Ajavelinofguiltwentthroughme,followedbyagroundswellofindignation.MyAchilles’heel,thechinkinmyarmor,thesoftbellythatmademecurluplikeapillbug:Youhurtme.Overandover,Kristenfoundit,exploitedit,wieldeditlikeaweapon.LikeabottleofCarménèrewine,heldaloft.
“Kristen,look,”Isaidsoftly.“I’msorryIhurtyou.ButthephotoofmeandSebastian—”
“Wereallyneedtotalk.”Hervoicewasamachete,slicingoffmywords.“Canyoucomeover?”
“What?”Mychesttightened.“We’retalkingnow.”
“YouknowwhatImean.Inperson.”
“We’retalkingrightnow,”Isaidagain.“Ihavealottodotonight.I’mgoingoutoftowntomorrowandIneedtopack.Idon’tseewhyeitherofusshoulddrivetwentymiles—”
“BecauseIdon’tthinkthisisaconversationweshouldhaveonthephone.”Shedidn’tquiteclearherthroat,buttheahemwasimplied.
Islammedmyhandontothecouchcushion.HadKristenalwaysbeenthisparanoid?Herinsistenceonsqueaky-cleansearchhistoriesandturned-offphoneshadalwaysseemedsage—andinstarkcontrasttohercheerfulchatteraboutourtravels.TheInstagramssheshowedPriya,theeasypatterwithAaron.Shewastheoneactingbrazen,likeshewantedtogetcaught.
Nowshesoundedlikeawild-eyedconspiracytheorist,quiveringunderaspaceblanketandtinfoilhat.
“Nooneislistening,Kristen.Nooneisfreakingtappingthephonesofacoupleofthirty-year-oldwhitegirlsinsoutheasternWisconsin.”
Shescoffed.“What,youthinkI’mcrazy?Doyouthinkyourphonejusthappenstoonlybelisteningwhenyousay‘Hey,Siri’?Thatitcouldn’theareverysinglewordthatcamebefore?”Hervoicehadaquiveringintensity,likeahuntingbowpulledtaut.“Or,ordoyouthinkit’sacoincidencethataftersomeonementions,like,amuseumduringaphonecall,youstartseeingadsforit?Thinkaboutit,Emily.Don’tbestupid.”
Shehadapoint,butstillIrolledmyeyes.“Well,yousoundprettydamnsketchyrightnow.Iftheyweren’tlisteningbefore,theysureashellarenow.”
“Stop.Thisisserious.Juststop,please.”
Stop.Stop.Stop.IwishedIcouldsetupsomethinglikeapolicelineup,haveherreadthelineinahystericalpitch.Haditbeenherlarynxvibratingthatnight,ormine?ThethoughtrammedmeinthegutandIcurledoverit,mypalmonmystomach.
“Comeover,”shepleaded,“orI’llcometoyou.Idon’twanttosendthephoto,but…you’renotleavingmemuchchoice.”
“That’showyouwanttohandlethis?”Isaid.“That’sthekindoffriendshipyouwannahave?”
Silence,alongone,twocarsplayingchickenonadarkcountryroad.
“I’msayingthisbecauseIactuallycareaboutourfriendship.”Hertonewasgravelly,preternaturallycalm.“Andyouleftmenochoice.”
“Kristen—”
Nowherwordstumbledout,onelightningbreath:“BehereintwentyminutesorI’msendingthephoto.Don’ttestme.”Andthenshehungup.
—
IFLEWDOWNI-94,gravitybuildinginmychestasifIwereameteorhurtlingtowardEarth.Theairwassteelyandcold,withacharged,loamysmell,andthehalosaroundoncomingheadlightswereobelisk-shaped,blurringmyvision.
Ibegantochangelanesandasemiblasteditshorn,sendingspikyadrenalinethroughmylimbs.Iswervedandgrippedthewheel,thenwatchedtheMacktruckcruiseby.Thedriverhonkedagain,asiftofurtheradmonishme,andIcriedout,myfrustrationminglingwiththebigrig’sbassohonk.
Ikeptseeingthephotointhewindshield,thebrightheadlightsreminiscentofthatcameraflash,thebangofbrillianceasSebastianandIstumbledtowardhisdemise.Sebastian,blondandbroadandoverexposed.Sebastian,whowasstillmissing,hisbodyfoodforseacreaturesatthebottomofTonleKak.
Kristen’svoice,awhisper:Sebastian,whomyoukickeduntilhisskullyielded
No.TheexitsneakeduponmeandIjoltedintotherightlane,slammingonthebrakesastherampdepositedmeataredlight.Myheartbeatintimewithmyturnsignal.Tick-tock,tick-tock,tick-tock.
IpassedthedarkenedpeakofKingofKings,anditsstained-glasswindowscaughtmyheadlightsasIturned.InsideNanaandBill’ssubdivision,aglintofeyeswatchedfromthecurb:anotherrabbit,itsblackeyesprotrudingfromthesidesofitshead.Wasitawarning,aportentofdoomfromthehacked-upanimalI’dseenUpNorth?Ineverdidfigureoutwhatkindofpredatorleftaxlikegashesintheneckofitsprey.Therabbitturnedandscurriedintoacopseofspindlytrees.
AtNanaandBill’s,Iparkedattheendofthedrivewayandspottedafigureinanupperwindow,watchingmeclimbtowardthefrontdoor.Arinseoffearatthesightofher—mybestfriend,myco-conspirator,mybiggestthreat.Thesilhouetteturnedoffthelight,dissolvingintodarkness,andwhenIsteeledmyselfandreachedforthedoorbell,Kristenwasalreadythere,pale-facedandred-eyedbehindthestormdoor.
“Hi.”Istoodhunched,unsurewhethershe’dgoinforahug.Finallysheheldthedooropenformeinstead.Ihungmythinjacketonahookinside.
“Canyouleaveyourpurseoutheretoo?”Shepointedatthefoyer’sbench,andIrolledmyeyes.Satisfiedthatthegovernmentwouldn’tbelisteninginontwogirlshavingaheart-to-heartinoneoftheirchildhoodhomes,Kristenledmetoherbedroomandclosedthedoorbehindus.
Herbedanddresserhadbeenshovedintoacorner,andseveralexpensive-lookingcardiomachineswerescatteredlikesculpturesaroundtherestoftheroom.Aweightbenchcrouchednexttothecloset,eachdumbbellagleamingweapon.
Sheploppedontoherbed,thenwhiskedupatissueandtosseditintoanearbytrashcan.Thebinwasalreadyhalffull,physicalevidenceofhergrief.Herhurtlookedsogenuine,sotangible.Theappropriateresponsetolearningyourbestfriendhasbeeninvestigatingwhetheryou’reamonster.Doubtprickledanew.
“Shouldwetalk?”Isatonthecornerandranmypalmacrossthesmoothduvet.
Shecurledherkneestoherchest.“YouonlycamebecauseIsaidI’dturnoverthatphoto.”
Yeah,noshit.“IcamebecauseIcareaboutyou.Thatmademerealizehowmuchyoureallyneededtotalk,like,ASAP.”Iswallowed.“Becauseyouwouldn’tsendthatphotoandmyinfototheSouthAfricanpolice,right?Youknowthatifsomeonecalledmeinforquestioning,Icouldnameyoutoo.”
Shechewedonherlowerlip.“Buttheevidence…itonlyleadstoyou.”
“Whatareyou—”Butthenthetruthrocketedthroughme.InQuiteria,I’dfilledoutthehotelcheck-informsandhandledthecarrental.ThephotofromPhnomPenhwasofSebastian…andme.Itwasmynameonalltheforms,myfaceinthephoto.Itwouldbeherwordagainstmine.
Icouldclaimshe’dbeeninvolved,sure.
ButIcouldn’tproveit.
Myvisionblurredandgravityshifted.Ibreatheddeeplyuntiltheroomrighteditself:Focus,Emily.Itappedhershin.“Tellmewhatyouneed—Iwanttomakethingsright.”
Kristenheavedanunsteadysigh.“It’ssuchamess,”shesaid.“Ikeephavingnightmaresthatabunchofguyswithgunsbustintomybedroom.Orthatwe’rebackintheElquiValleywithpeoplechasingusaroundthosehairpinturns.Andsometimes…”Shecriedforafewseconds,tearsploppingontoherblouse.“SometimesIdreamI’mbackinoursuiteandPaolois…thatIcouldn’tstophim.It’ssoscary,Emily.IthoughtIunderstoodwhatyouwentthroughinCambodia,butIwaswrong.Itwassomuchworse.”
Iwasfrozen,everynerveonhighalert.Wasshereferringtotheattemptedassault?Or…orwhatcameafter,whenshewrappedherfingersaroundabottleofwine?
“Whatwasworsethanyouthought?”Iasked,myvoicegossamer-thin.
“The…thetrauma,Iguess.Thatmomentwhenheshovedmeandmyheadhitthewall.”
Kristenexhaledwithaconstrictedsigh,ujjayipranayamainyoga.“IwasscaredinawayI’veneverbeenbefore,”shewenton.“It’slikeitchangedme,irreversibly.Youknowhowsomeonecandropacidandhaveabadtripandthenthey’rejustdifferentfromthatdayonward?”
“Andthat’swhatitwaslike?Anacidtrip?”Ineededhertoclarify:Wasshetalkingaboutthefrightenedinstantortheonethatfollowed,theonewheresheswungthebottlelikeaclub?
Thethoughtjabbedatme:IfkillingPaololeftherthisrattled,shecouldn’thavebeentheonetokillSebastian…couldshe?
“Thatmomentoffear,”shesaid,“it’slikeitmarkedme—definedme.And,youknowwhat,ithasmademeparanoid.AllIseearedangersnow.FearofeveryoneImeet.Fearthat…thatthepeopleItrustaregonnaturnonme.”Shesmoothedherpalmsdownherthighs.“IthoughtIwaskeepingmyshittogether,keepingmywholeworldundercontrol.Ievenwenttoatherapist.Butthen”—herehervoicewobbled—“thenIrealizedyou’dbeen,like,investigatingmebehindmyback.LikeI’msomekindoffreak.”
Butyouthreatenedme,Iwantedtosay.YouhoardedanoldphotoandleftmebreadcrumbssoI’dfinditwhenmyownfearborderedonparanoia,afterayearoftellingmewecouldn’triskkeepinganyevidencearound.ButIknewthatsayingthiswouldbuymeanotherhouronthisbed,supplicatingatKristen’sfeet.IneededtoslapaBand-AidonheregoandgetthehelloutofMilwaukee.
“I’msorryyousawthat,”Isaidgently.“Iwasspiralingandgraspingatstraws,youknow?Thephotoyoushowedme—er,wantedmetofind—itthrewme.”Ishookmyhead.“I’msorryyou’vebeenfeelingnotlikeyourself.Iwentthroughthatlastyeartoo.Itdoesgetbetterwithtime,but…Igetthat,feelingraw.Iwantyoutobeokay.”Ipattedherknee.
“Ithoughtyouwerehereforme.”Shedabbedatissueunderhereyes.
“Iam!”
“No,you’releavingme.”
“Justfortheweekend.”Iglancedather.“We’llbothbethinkingmoreclearlyafteradayortwo,right?”
Abeat.“Whereareyougoing?”WhenIdidn’tanswer,hervoicegrewmoreinsistent:“Whoareyougoingwith?Aaron?”
“I’mgoingtoPhoenixforafewdays.WithAaron,yeah.I…Ican’tbeagoodfriendrightnow.AndIwanttobe.Canyouunderstandthat?It’snotaboutrunningawayfromyou.Ijustneedachangeofscenery.”
Awetsniff.“Ithoughtyouhadmyback.”
“Ido.Andyouhavemine.Butyouofallpeopleknowhowhealingtravelcanbe,right?It’sareset.AndthenonceI’mback,wecanstartfresh.”Nottrue—I’dusethetimeawaytodistancemyselffromKristen,tocreateboundarieswheretherewerenone.Ifelttheliesbuzzinginmysinuses,swellinglikePinocchio’snose.
Anothermoistinhalation.“I’msolonelyrightnow,”shesaid.“Andscared.Andyou’retheonlypersononEarthwhoknowsthefullextentofwhy.”
Thefullextent—whatproportionofthetruthdidIactuallysee?WhathadhappenedinourhotelsuitewhenPaolowasalonewithKristen?WhosefoothadconnectedwithSebastian’sbodyayearearlier?WhatreallyhappenedtoyoungJamie?AndwasthefirethatkilledKristen’sparentsreallyarandomhousefire…orhadsomeonesetit,watchingapinprickoflightforkandracethroughthehouselikewhite-hotdominos?
“I’mrighttherewithyou,”Isaid,becauseIdidn’tknowtheanswerstoanyofmyquestions.OnlyKristendid,andmyfreedom—mylife—hingedonherwantingtoprotectme.“Iknowit’stough,butwe’llgetthroughthis.Aslongaswedon’tdoanythingstupid.”Liketurningoverananonymous,incriminatingphoto:IthoughtitsohardIimaginedshecouldhearit,accompliceESP.“You’rebraveashell,Kristen.I’vealwaysbeeninaweofyourcourage.Andhowcalmandsmartyouareinthemidstofacrisis.I’m—I’mjusttryingtochannelthat.Withacoupledaysofusnottalking.I’mtryingtobebravelikeyou,okay?”
Thisdidit.OfallthetricksI’dtried,thesticksandcarrotsandhoney-gooeywordsI’dlobbedherway,thiswaswhatconvincedher.
“Itrustyou,”shesaid.“Idon’tgetit,butItrustyou.”Sherolledoffthebed.“Iwanttoshowyousomething.”
Myheartthuddedassherummagedinadresserdrawer.Pleasejustletmego,Isilentlybegged.
Sheliftedaclothsackandpulledoutwhatappearedtobeacrumpleofnewspapers.Shepeeledbackalayerandstaredatitscenter.
“We’rereallyinthistogether.”Thenshetippeditmyway.
Atfirst,Ithoughtitwasabig,darkrock,thekindyoucrackopentofindthegeodeinside.
Butthenapartofitcaughtthelight.Ispottedwordsonthelumpysurface,aflashofblisteredplastic.
I’lltakeit,she’dsaidastheairinoursuiteeddiedwithsmokeandtheacridsmellofburntplastic.I’lltossitwhenIgethome.
Butshehadn’t.She’dkeptit,morecollateral.Beforemewasafossil:themoltenremainsofPaolo’sjournal,phone,passport,andwallet.
CHAPTER33
“OhmyGod.Yousaidyou’dgetridofthis.”
“Ikeptitinmysuitcase.Itmadetheflightherewithme.”
Myeyesbulged.“Butwhy?!”
“It’s…it’slikethephoto.Idon’tplantoshowittoanyone,obviously.ButIwantedyoutosee.”
She’soutofhermind.ButInoddedserenely.“I’msorryImadeyoudoubtme.Butwecantrusteachother.Wehavetotrusteachother.”
Shestuffedthelumpintoitsbag.“Canwepleasedomoretalkingassoonasyou’reback?”
“Ofcourse,”Ilied.Iinchedtowardthedoor.“Ishouldgetgoing.You’reokay?”
Shepulledmeintoatighthugandcriedintomyshoulder.Therewasmusclememorythere,adeep-seatedurgetotuckmychintowardherneck,tofeelourforearmspullingintandem.WhenIlethergo,Ihadtheflickeringthoughtthatthisfeltlikeagoodbye—anendingI’dbeenseekingforthebetterpartofamonthnow.
ButasIploddedtowardthestairs,apitofshameopenedinsideme.TherewasareasonIkeptrepeatingmyfarewells,aimingforacleancutbutthenwatchingtheskinscabandpursetogether,uglieranduglier,everytime.TherewasareasonIkeptgoingback,asad-eyedaddictbeggingforanotherhit.
AsIpassedbythelivingroomenroutetothefrontdoor,mygazefellontheBiblestillcenteredonthecoffeetable.Withasuddenpullinmychest,Igotit:thereasonpeoplecravereligion—theconfidence,thesuperiority,theassuranceofwhat’sright.Theyearningforsomeonetotelluswhattoeat,think,anddo.Simpleanswerstocomplexquestionsandthecertitudethatthere’snothingtobeafraidof,thatit’llallworkoutintheend.Theoppositeoffear.
AsIscoopedupmypurse,acreakabovememademefreeze,earspricked,heartstaccato.Timetogo.Iglancedbehindme,thenheavedthefrontdooropenandhurriedoutintothenight.
—
IMADEITtomycarandsatslumpedinthefrontseatforalongtime.Everythingwaswrong.Kristenhadtoldmetojump,andI’dresponded,“Howhigh?”I’dcomfortedher,pattedhershin,wrappedherinatightembrace.ImustbegettingsomethingIcraved,orelseIwouldn’tbeherenow,gazingintotheblacktunnelofNanaandBill’sstreetwhenIshouldbehomeandpackingforPhoenix.Whywasitsofreakingdark?Whyweren’tthereanystreetlightsinthesuburbs?
Asuddenknockmademyentirebodyjerk—Ipressedahandtomysternumandbreathedhard,thehorrormoviewatcherwhodidn’tseethejumpscarecoming.Nana’sfacefloatedinthewindow,hereyesandcheeksgauntinmydomelight’sglow.Irolleddownthewindowandshecrackedanervoussmile.
“Youforgotthis.”Sheheldoutaclumpoffabric,andittookmeamomenttorecognizemyjacket.
“Ohshoot,thankyou.”Idroppeditontothepassengerseat.
Shelingered.“IthoughtI’dmissedyou.ButthenIsawyourcar.”
Shewantedtotellmesomething.Daysearlier,Iwould’veleaptatthechancetoaskaboutherspookyemail,aboutWestmoor,aboutyoungKristenandherdeadbestfriend,poorJamieinthepineapplehouseIcouldjustmakeoutnextdoor.Butnowthestrongestimpulse,deepinmyhips,wastogetthehellawayfromhere.
“Iseverythingokay?”Shesaiditinarush,likeshethoughtI’dwhirthewindowclosedanddriveoff,tiressquealing.
Ifroze.“YoumeanwithKristen?”
Somethingflashedinhereyes.“She’sbeenacting,er,alittleupset.Iguessit’sgotBill,youknow,onedge.Andmeaswell.”Hereyebrowsshotup.“Notthatit’saboutus!ButI’mconcernedforher.Andyou.”NanaglancedbehindherandIcaughtthelookagain.Fear,brightandglinting,bothtinyandvast.TowardKristen?Or—anewthoughtsparked,theconclusionIwouldhavejumpedtofirstunderanyothercircumstances—towardBill?
“Nana,whydoyouask?What’sbeengoingonathome?”Shestaredatme,andhastily,Iaddedmyknee-jerkcourtesy:“Ifyoudon’tmindmyasking,thatis.”
“It’sbeenabitofazoo,havingeveryoneunderthesameroof.”Shepeeredupatthehouse,itswindowslikeunblinkingeyes.Ijustwantedtomakesureyou’recomfortable,she’demailedonmybirthday.Kristenhasbeenactingabitstrangelately.
“Istheresomethingyouwanttotellme,Nana?Issomethingwrong?”
Sheranhertongueacrossherlips.She’djusttakenthesharpinbreathofsomeoneabouttoblurtsomethingoutwhen—
“Nana!”
AhanddroppedontoNana’sshoulderandweturnedtoseeKristen’ssmilingface.Howhadshegottenherewithoutusseeing?Howlonghadshebeenstandingthere?
“Emilyforgotherjacket,”Nanaannounced,tooloud.
Igesturedtowarditwithaflourish.“AndsinceImissedNanainside,Iwasjustsayinghi.”
Kristennodded.“Ithoughtyouwereinahurry,soIwassurprisedtoseeyououtherewithsomeone.ThoughtI’dinvestigate.”
“Justyouroldgrandma!”Nana’svoicewasasingsong.
“Well,thankyouforkeepingmesafefromallthedangersofBrookfield,”Icracked,andNanachortled.“Anyway,Ishouldletyougo.Kristen,we’lltalksoon,okay?”
“Happytravels,”shereplied,hersmileshiftingintoasmirk.“Besafe.”
—
KRISTENHASLOSThermind.WasNanasafe?WastheresomethingIcoulddo?WouldanyofmylovedonesbeindangerwhileIwasoutoftown…Priya?ThethoughtloopedasIdrovethetree-linedroadspastloomingcolonials,broadTudors,neo-classicalswithgrandwhitecolumnsinthefront.NoflashyMcMansionshere:Kristen’sneighborswereclassyandsmug,convincedthatnothingbadcouldhappentothem,notbehindtheirmoatsoflandscapedgardensandneatlytrimmedbushes.
Iwasn’tbeingfair—Iwassimplyjealous,theenvylikeastentinmyheart,pushingagainstitfromtheinside.Thesepeoplepaidtheirmortgages,cuttuitionchecks,debatedwhethertheVitamixwasworththesplurge.Theyweren’twonderingifsomeonetheyknewwasdeeplyunhinged.Ifthepolicewerehotontheirtrail.Ifthewalls,professionallypaintedinaprettyshadeofeggshell,wereclosinginonthembythesecond.
Withtheexceptionofone.IflashedtoKristenagain,crumpledonthebed,usedKleenexpiledlikesnowinthebinatherfeet.Nowaywasthatanact.Right?
Atafour-waystop,Iburstoutofthesubdivisionandontoamainroad,andIrealizedI’dbeenholdingmybreath.
TheflickerinNana’seyes:I’drecognizeditwithasurgeofsolidarity.Ifeltitmyselfsomanytimesaday,burstssotinyandsharpandexpectedand,andnormalthatIbarelyregisteredthem:justtheusualaccompanimenttowalkingoreatingorsmilingornotsmilingorshowingalittleskinorwearingapoofyparkaorsimplyexistingwithafemaleform.
Imergedontothefreewayandacceleratedhard.MypulsepickedupspeedalongwiththesedanasIflewpastthegroundsoftheWisconsinStateFair,thebaseballstadium,thethreeglassdomesofthebotanicalgarden,latticedlikebugs’eyes.Whenmyexitappeared,noonewantedtoletmeinandIhadtojamonthebrakes,thendartinfrontofanSUVwhopretendednottoseemyblinker.
IntherearviewmirrorIsawthedriver’sangryupturnedpalm,awhat-the-hellgesture.Asifitweremyfaultfortakingupthree-dimensionalspace,forhavingvolumeandmassanddensity.
AndthenIdidthethingInever,everdo.Iliftedmymiddlefingerandwaveditabovemyshoulder,sothathecouldn’tmissit.ForamomentIfeltpowerful,butthenatthenextlighthepulledupnexttomeandrolleddownhiswindowtoletoutastreamofobscenities.
Istaredstraightaheadand,asmyheartpoundedinmyribcage,pretendednottonotice.
CHAPTER34
MystomachtightenedwhenAaron’scarpulledintomydriveway.Iwavedandrolledmysuitcaseoutside,thenturnedaroundtolockup.
Ijumpedastwohandsencircledmywaist,thensmiledashenuzzledmyneck.
“Hello,you,”hesaid.
“Heythere.”OurforeheadstouchedandIclosedmyeyes.Oh,howIwishedIcouldgiveintothefeeling,meltintohisarms.“Youexcited?”
“Letmetakethat.”HegrabbedmysuitcaseandIfollowedhimtothecar.Hehitabuttonandthetrunkflewopenandbobbedatthetop.Somethinginitsangle,thegapingmaw,broughtmebacktothatmomentinChile,whenweweresweatyandsorefromdiggingashallowgraveandreadytofacetheunthinkablehorrorofproducingabodyforit.Therentalcar’strunkhadbouncedinthesameway,likeitwaslaughingatus.
Hecloseditwithathunkandshotmeacrookedsmile.“Ibroughtuschocolatecroissantsagain.Hopeyou’rehungry.”
“Sosweet!Thankyou.”Justlikeintheairportweeksago,whenIhadn’tknownI’dseehim.Hisshapeemergingnearbaggageclaim,hittingmelikeathunderclap.
Wesetoutunderasilverysky.“It’ssupposedtorainhereallweekend,”heannounced,drumminghisfingerstothegaragerockhe’dputon.“Hopefullyitholdsoffuntilwe’reintheair.”
“Yep.”Ittookahugeamountofefforttoreply.Thistripmight’vebeenahorribleidea.“ThankGodwe’regoingsomewheresunny.”
Myphonewasringingagain,andIrootedaroundinmybag.AnumberIdidn’trecognize,onewith—ohGod—toomanydigits.
Aaronglancedmyway.“Everythingokay?”
“Yeah,no,sorry,I—Letmecheckonething.”ItriedtokeepmyfingersfromshakingasIgoogledthecountrycodeoftheincomingcall:Chile.Shit.PlustwonewtextsfromPriya,areplytomylate-nightpleatosteerclearofKristenwhileIwasaway;she’dsentbackastringofquestionmarks,followedby“WTF?Everythingok?”
Aarongesturedatthedashboard.“Hey,thisremindsme:IpackedsomeTHCgummies.”
“Huh?”Iglancedaround,bewildered,thenrealizedhewastalkingaboutthestonerysongontheradio.“Oh.Great!You’renot…afraidtoflywithit?”
“Nah,it’sinmydoppkit.”HewavedhishandandIstaredathim,myenvysothickIfeltitseepingoutofmypores:notacareintheworld,nothingtoworryabout.Theoppositeoffearisn’tsafety,Kristenhadsaid.It’sknowingyou’llalwaysbeincharge.
Thesongfinishedwiththeunhingedshrawwwofanelectricguitar,andthepeppymorning-showDJssprangintoaction:
So,Dave,I’msureyou’vebeenhearingaboutthistwenty-four-year-oldbackpackerwhosebodywasfoundinChile.Oh,everyone’sgotatheory.LastweekIheardsomeonesaytheythoughtalienswereinvolved,sincethatregionisfamousforitsUFOactivity.WhatIcan’tgetoveristhattheparentsare—
“Youknowwhat’swild?”Aaronpointedataspeaker.“Thisdudedisappears,probablygothimselftwistedupinsomeshadyshit.Drugsorwhatever.Butnoonewantstosaythat—it’sgottabealienswhoareresponsible,nothinghecould’vedone.’Causehe’sadude.Like,rememberNataleeHolloway?Itwasall:Well,whydidsheleaveherfriends?Andwhydidtheylethergooffwithaguyshedidn’tknowthatwell?”
ItwaslikeallmycellswerefiringatonceandIcoughed,anuglybark,thenflippedtoadifferentstation.
“Sorry,”Isaid.“Itjustfreaksmeout.Thinkingabout…scarystuffhappeningtotourists.”
“Naw,thatmakessense.Iknowyoujustvisitedthere.”
Iwilledmyselftosaysomething,anythingelse,butIcouldn’t.Finally,hesealedoffthetopic:“Well,nothingtoworryaboutinthemeanstreetsofPhoenix.”
—
AARONATEAgummybeforeboardingandfellasleepshortlyaftertakeoff.Ididn’twanttoriskgrowing(evenmore)paranoidwhileinatintubeimprobablysailingthroughthesky,soIdidn’tpartake.Solotravelersflankedusoneitherside,abeefyguyinaPackershatnexttomeandabusinesswomannexttoAaron,tappingawayonherlaptop.
TheChileannumberhadn’tleftavoicemail,butithadcalledagainwhilewewereonthetarmac.Ipressedmyfingersagainstmylips,asiftokeepfromscreaming.IthoughtofSebastianinCambodia,hiscallousedpalmagainstmymouth.Adrenalinecoursingthroughmyarms,muscletissuefiringasIfoughtagainsthisgrasp.Thepennytasteofbloodwhenmyteethclosedaroundhisflesh.Hadabitofitcomeoutinmymouth?HadIspititoutinaglobofbloodyphlegmashesworeandpulledhishandtowardhisheart,orhadIinventedthatdetailnow,inhindsight?Thebrainisanartist,afterall—remixing,shape-shiftingbytheminute.EditingthefeedsothatIcouldconvincemyselfthatKristen,notme,hadkickedhistrunk,forcedhisheadupagainstthelegofthebed.
Wehitsometurbulenceandthecaptainturnedontheseatbeltsign.Aaronstirredandwentbacktosnoring,butthewomantohisrightgrippedherarmrestsandgaspedwhentheplanemadeabelly-flippingdip.Anotherrustleofconcernedmurmursastheplanejerkedagain,hardenoughtomakethetraytablesjump.
Turbulencehadneverbotheredme.Itwasjusttheplanehurtlingthroughpocketsofwind.Me,Ipreferredtoobsessoverrealisticfears.
Aaronnestledhisheadonmyshoulder,andIleanedmycheekonhissilkyhair.Myeyesflickedtothescreennexttome,whereBaseballCapwasflippingthroughstationsofliveTVwithanaggressivetap,onesurelyfeltbythewomaninfrontofhim.HestoppedonCNNandIreadthetickercrawlingalongthebottom,anendlessfeedoffiresandinvasionsandshootings.Abovethescrollingheadlines,twoliteraltalkingheads,aBarbie-esquewomanandamanwithahandlebarmustache,werediscussinganentirelydifferenttopic.
AndthenIsawit.Itsuckedmedownlikeanopenhatchindeepspace.
Theheadlinesnakedacrossthescreen,righttoleft,soquicklyIthoughtmaybeI’dreaditwrong,transposedtheletters,conjuredupthestringofwordsIfearedthemost.Ifeltcoldallover,myshouldersandjawandhandsalltensing,andAaronsatupinhisseatandslumpedintheoppositedirection.
IwhippedoutmylaptopandjabbedattheOnbutton;theharddriveseemedthickandlogyasitbootedup,differentscreensappearingandwheelsturninglanguidly.Afterwhatfeltlikehours,IconnectedtotheinflightWi-Fi.AnothershorteternityasIwaitedforCNN.comtoload.
Ihadtoscrolldowntofindit,myeyesdevouringtheendlessheadlines,theblue-tingedphotosofpoliticiansandproathletesandhealthcrisesandbrutaldevastation.
Andthereitwas,eightboldedwordsontheleft-handside,<strong>incode.
WITNESSCOMESFORWARDINSEARCHFORBACKPACKER’SKILLERCHAPTER35
LosAngelespolicearefocusingonasmallfarmingtowninChileasthelastknownlocationofayoungmankilledwhilebackpacking,andlawenforcementofficialsfromseveralcountriesareaggressivelysearchingforhiskiller.OnApril25,thebodyofPaoloGarcía,age24,ofBarcelona,Spain,wasfoundnearArroyitoinashallowgraveabout25metersfromtheroad,accordingtoreports.Hehadbeenmissingforapproximatelyfourweeksbeforehisbodywasfound.Althoughasuspecthasnotbeennamed,awitnessclaimsshespottedGarcíainQuiteria,aremotemountaintown,onthenightofApril13.“Ican’tbelieveit.Wemetinacrowdedbarandtalkedaboutmeetingupforastargazingtourthenextnight,andIwassurprisedwhenhedidn’tshowup,”saidTiffanyYagasaki,aBritishwomanwhowasalsobackpackingthroughSouthAmerica.“Ididn’tthinkaboutitagainuntilIsawhisphotoinanarticleabouthisbodybeingfound.It’ssoshocking—heseemedfriendly,andeveryoneatthebarwasjustchattingandhavingagoodtime.”“Thisisourfirstreallead,”LosAngelesPoliceCaptainMirandaSedivecsaidinastatement.“We’regratefultoMs.Yagasakiforcomingforwardwithvitalinformation,andweencourageanyoneelsewhocancontributetotheinvestigationtodothesame.”
OnMay1,theGarcíafamilyoffereda$1millionrewardforinformationabouttheirson’sdeath.Thefamily’slawyerdeclinedtosaywhetherYagasaki’scooperationwasrelatedtothereward.Quiteria,asmallvillagewithapopulationof800,isprimarilyagricultural.Italsowelcomesthousandsoftourists,mostlyinthesummermonths(DecemberthroughMarch),duetoitssceniclocationintheAndesMountainsanditsabundanceofdistilleriesmakingpisco,awhite-grapebrandy.García’sbodywasfoundabout38kilometersfromQuiteriaFriendsinBarcelonadescribedGarcíaasafun-lovingyoungmanwithatasteforadventureandaloveofmeetingnewpeople.Hewasalsoathyroidcancersurvivorwhoparticipatedinfundraiserstobolstercancerawarenessandresearch.“Hecouldtalktoanyone,anytime,anywhere,”ValeriaRamos,afriendfromuniversity,toldSpain’sAgenciaEFEnewsagency.“Hecouldwalkintoaroomfullofstrangersandmakethemallsmile.”Ifyouhaveanyinformation,pleasecontacttheLosAngelesPolice.
TiffanyYagasaki—shemust’vebeenoneofthetwofemalebackpackerswe’dseenattherestaurant,thenagainatthebar.Aninternalwail—OhGodohGodohGod—TiffanyandIhadtalkedatthebar,haddrunkenlygrownchummywhileKristenflirtedwithPaoloafewyardsaway.Didsherememberus?Hadshetoldanyone?Butthemostdevastatingdetailwasinthefirstline,ofcourse:Lawenforcementofficialsfromseveralcountriesareaggressivelysearchingforhiskiller.
IhadtotellKristen.Withoutsayingsomethingstupid,obviously,somethingsuspiciousorincriminating.
I’dtellhertolookatanewspaper—thatwouldn’tlookshady,wouldit?AlthoughifanyonetriangulatedourwhereaboutsthatAprilnightandthencombedthroughmymessageslater…
Icouldfeelit,theparanoia,growinginsidemelikeatapeworm,threateningtostranglemyviscera.
Acode—I’ddoasimpleone,oneshe’dquicklygraspbutthatnooneelsewouldnotice.Checkingagainthatnoonearoundmewaswatching,Itypeditout,thenwentbackandfilledinthewords:
HeyKristen,I’vebeenthinkingaboutthelastletterIsent.JustwantedtoaddthatRaqueltrulyisadramaticwench—rude&myopic.Look,thatbitchmadeevenAlicegrowspeechless.—Emily
Writingitstilledmyracingthoughts,slowedmyheartrate.Thehardenterinthemiddleoftheemail,themeticulouslycraftedsecondline…Kristen,whosebrainI’doncejokedwaspracticallyfusedtomineinaconjoined-twinssituation,wouldknowtoreadthelastletterofeachwordinthesecondline:Checkthenews.IpushedmyhairoffmyfaceandhitSend.
AndthenIrealizedIhadnoideawhatIexpectedhertodo.Iwasonaplane.I’dquiteliterallyleftherblubberinginhergrandparents’palatialhome.Islippedmylaptopintomybag.ThoughChilewasthemoreimmediateconcern,mythoughtsflowedbacktoCambodia.
Foroverayear,I’dbeenworkinghardtokeeptheimagesoutofmyhead.Likeanapprunninginaphone’sbackground,somepartofmymindwasalwayswhirring:Keepitburied,keepitburied,keepitburied.BuriedlikePaolo’sbodyunderthetawnydirt.BuriedlikeSebastian’sbodyinTonleKakRiver.
I’dfeltsonumbthatnight—thisIrememberedclearly,avisceralmemoryofmysensesshuttingdown.WithSebastian’swoundstilloozingblood,Kristenhadyankedmeintothebathroomandturnedontheshower,lettingsteambeadanddriponthemirrorandwallsandflimsyshowercurtain.Ishookandshook,myshoulderslikeajackhammer,myteethchatteringsohardtheyrattledmyskull,theyaddledmybrain,aren’tyouneversupposedtoshakeababybecausethebrainwillboingaroundinsidetheirhead?That’swhatwashappeningtomeasmistsettledonmyeyelashes,asvaporsfloatedintranslucentcurls,asKristenheldmyshouldersandpushedherforeheadagainstmine.
Ijumpedaheadtoanotherscene,alsowetandwan.Mylegswerelikejellyandnotjustfromthenervesthistime:Togetherwe’ddraggedSebastianuptheshortbutsteephiketoalookoutpoint,acliffoverthefoamywatersofTonleKak.Thankstothepollution,thenightskyhadaneerieyellowtingetoit,likebile.We’dvisitedthisspottwodaysbefore,whenitwaspockedbytourists,youngfolkslikeusstagingselfiesatthecliff’sedge.I’dreadaloudfromourguidebook,takingonanewscastervoice,allarmflourishesandenthusiasm.
Thisspotwasnicknamedsuicideridge,andwetookturnstryingtopronouncethemanydiphthongsandplosiveconsonantsoftheKhmerexpression.Legendhaditthatthiswaswherewomen,marriedorbetrothedbutmiserableaboutit,hadonceloadedtheirpocketswithshalerocksfromalongthepath,thenhurledthemselvesintothewaterbelow;thoughtheforty-footdropwouldlikelydothetrick,theheavystonesensuredthey’ddrownasplanned.
We’dthoughtnothingofitthatday,butinourhotelroom’sbathroom,mistswirlingandourskullssmushedtogetherasifwecouldco-cogitatethroughosmosis,Kristenbroughtitupagain.OrhadIbeenthemastermind,theevilgenius?Suddenlytheboundariesbetweenusweregrowingthreadbare.
Adingandthecaptainturnedofftheseatbeltsign.No—Ihadtostayfocused.Kristenwasthedangerousone,notme.EvenifyouremovedSebastianfromtheequation,Kristenwasstilltheonewithatrailofdeadbodiesinherwake,fromthetimeshewasakid:bothparents,Jamie,andnowPaolo.One’sananomaly,two’sanunfortunatecoincidence—maybe.Butfour?Four’safreakingtrend
Aaroncrossedhisarmsandscoocheddowninhisseat.Isteeledmyselfandthentraveledbackintimeoncemore,backtothatnightinCambodia,theaircloggedwithbugsandmoistureandsmokefromdistanttrashfires.Itpressedarounduslikebadbreathaswestumbledupthehill,Sebastian’sfeetdraggingbehindus.Wecrammedstonesintowhateverpocketswecouldfindinhisclothes:againsthisbellyinhistucked-inshirt,insidethewaistbandofhisshorts.
Touchinghisskin,coolandclammyeveninthebody-temperatureair,sentwavesofrevulsionthroughme…but,ifIwashonestwithmyself,therewassomethingoddlysatisfyingaboutit,too,theweightsviolatingthemanwho’dtriedtoviolateme.I’dbeensoangrywhenIwrestledfreefromhisgrip.I’dalmostenjoyedplungingmyteethintohispalm,puttinghiminhisplace.I’dfeltsofuriousthatwhenIsawhimontheground,hisheadbumpedupagainstthebedframe…
Sick.Allsickandsickeningthoughts.Nexttome,Aaronscratchedhisnose,nestledhischeekagainsthishorseshoe-shapedpillow.Iloveyou.Wehadn’tsaidityet,butthinkingitwaslikeaprismofclarityinthemurkofmypsyche.Myaffectionforhimbulged,followedbyaferocious,cracklingfearatthethoughtoflosinghim.WhatwouldKristendoifshesomehowgotherhandsonhim,jealousasanex-lover?Or,equallythreatening:Whatwouldhappenifhelearnedabouttheskeletonsinmycloset?Theliteralskeletonsinmyhands,onestuffedintothetrunkofarentalcarinChile,theotherdraggedupahillinCambodia?
Wait—howdidwegetSebastianoverthecliff?Iwaitedforanimagetoarise,afade-in.There:Kristenandmerollinghisbodytowardtheledge,feelinggravitytakehold,slowlyatfirstandthenwithmountingvehemence,likearollercoastercrestingitsfirstgianthill.We’dsteppedbackandwaitedforthesplash—itfeltlikeaneternity,somethingwaswrong.Butthenweheardthewetcrash,therivergratefullyacceptingoursacrifice.We’dbothleanedwayoverandpeeredintothewater,butanyglimpseofSebastianwasalreadylosttothefoamyrush.
Thisisn’thelping.Noneoftherelentlessrememberingwasbringingmeanyclosertoansweringthecriticalquestion:Whokilledhim,Kristenorme?Itwasastrangesensation,likeworryingaboutthefuture,projectingwhatmightgowrong,onlyIwasfrettingaboutthepast.AmIdangerous,evennow?
No—Iwasakindperson,agoodperson,livingmylittlelife.Ilovedanimalsandnatureandyogaandpizza.IsetmyhandonAaron’sandheflippedhispalmandwovehisfingersthroughmine.
Thewomannexttohimpeeledhereyesoffherlaptopandglanceddownatherseatmate,atourinterlockedfingers.Ithoughtofhowwemustlooktoher:agood-looking,comfortablecoupletravelingtogether—notevenruingourmiddleseats,soinlovewerewe.I’dwantedthisforsolong.Aaronmadeeverysecondwarmer,safer,happier.
Travelingtogether—suddenlythemagnitudeofthisendeavorhitme,howwe’dbetogether24/7forfourentiredays.TogetherwhenIcameoutoftheshower,noseandcheeksruddy,hairtangled,facebare.TogetherwhenmybloodsugarplungedandIgotcrankyandshort.TogetherwhenIatetoomuchbreadandfeltgassy,myabdomendistendinglikeaballoon.We’dhadsleepovers,sure,butthisfeltdifferent.Momentous.
I’dbeensofocusedonrunningaway,I’dalmostmissedwhatIwasrunningto.
Inuzzledmyheadagainsthisshoulder,thenclosedmyeyes.
No,notto.With
CHAPTER36
Noonewaswaitingtoarrestmeatthejetbridge.Noonepaidattentiontousaswestrolledthroughbaggageclaimandfoundthecar-rentaldesk,andIlookedaroundinastonishment:Nobodyknows
Phoenixwasorange-brownandsunbaked,withthedry,crumblyqualityofcheddarthat’sbeensittingoutonacheeseboardallday.Itwashot,toohot,thesaunaaircatchinginmylungs.Aarondidn’tcomplainasweloadedourbagsintothebackofarental,buthisforeheaddrippedlikeaglassoficedtea.
Nonewvoicemails,butnowIwasgettingacallfromanumberwithanL.A.areacode.L.A.,wheregrievingparentsofferedamilliondollarsforintelabouttheirson.L.A.,whereadeadman’sfatherprobablyhadthepolicedepartmentwrappedaroundhiswealthypinkie.Whereafamilymournedasonwhooutrancancerbutnotthewrathofmybestfriend.IturnedonDoNotDisturbandslippedmyphoneintomybag.
Wechurnedaroundtheairport’sloops,thenshotoutontotheinterstate.Wewereinamammoth,tanklike,gas-guzzlingblackSUV—theonlyoptionleftwithourlast-minutebooking.
“SoIwantedtotalktoyouaboutsomething.”
IlookedatAaronsharply.“What’sthat?”
“Um,I’mnotsurehowtosaythis.”OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.“Kristencalledmeyesterday.”
Deepbreathin,deepbreathout.“What’dshesay?”
“It’s—Idunno.Itwasbizarre.Shesaidshe’sworriedaboutyou.”
“Ohboy.Didshesaywhy?”
“Sheusedtheword…unstable.”Heblushed.“Soundedlikeshethinksyou’reonthevergeofabreakdownorsomething.Shewasn’tsureyoushouldbetraveling.”
“JesusChrist.”Iglancedathim.“Andyou’rejusttellingmethisnow?”
“Well,Ididn’twanttoleadwithit.”
Isqueezedmyeyesshut.“Youknowthateverythingshesaidisbullshit,right?I’mfine.”
Hedidn’treply.Beyondhim,thetangerinemoonscapebillowedpasthiswindow.
“Aaron.”
“That’snotall.”
Iwasgoingtoexplode.Somethingwasdetonatinginme,abouttoeruptalloverthedashboard.
“What’dshesay?”Itriedtomakemytoneblasé,eye-rolling.
“Shesaid…”Heclearedhisthroat.“Shesaidthereasonyou’vebeenkinda…stressed-outsinceyougotbackfromChileisthatsomethinghappenedthere.Whereyouhurtsomeoneorsomething?Byaccident.Shedidn’tgointodetails.”
Myfacewentslack.Nonononono.BythetimeInoticedIwasn’tbreathing,itwastoolatetoactshockedorconfusedorscornfuloranything,anyemotionalmaskthatmightpointtomyinnocence.
“Inaquarterofamile,turnright,”theGPSintoned.
“Aaron.”MyvoicesoundedsqueezedandIshoveditdeeperintomychest.Breathe,Emily.“YouknowthatI’mfine,andthatKristenandIhaven’tbeenonthebestterms.Sothisisjusthertryingtomanipulateyou.Okay?”
Heeasedaroundthecorner.“So,I’mTeamEmily,eleventimesouttaten.”Acarpulledoutinfrontofusandhemadeanopesound.“Butyouhaveseemedkindaoutofsortsthesepastfewweeks.OramIwayoffbase?”
Mybrainscrambled,aratinthebottomofapail.ShouldIflipthescript,insistthatKristenhadbeentheonetohurtsomeone?Denytheviolencealtogether?MakeupanotherreasonI’dbeenactingstrangely?ButIwassotiredoflying—sosickoftryingtoactnormalwhenitwasallprobablyabouttocomecrashingdownaroundme.
I’dmadeupmymind,then.I’dtellhimthetruth.
“I’msorryIhaven’tbeencompletelyhonestwithyou,”Isaid.“SomethinghappenedwithKristen,andit’sbeenweighingonme.”
Hewaited,listening.
“Firstofall,no,IdidnothurtanyoneinChile.That’salie,IsweartoGod.Pleasebelieveme.”
Henoddedatthewindshield.“Ibelieveyou,yeah.”
“Something…happenedbackinCambodia.Ayearago?Somethingbad.”Iswallowedhard.“Iwas,um,attacked.Itwasa…asexualassault.”Istareddownatmylapbutcouldfeelhimtenseupnexttome.“Itwasreallyscary.Obviously.ButKristenwalkedinonusandthat—thatstoppedit.”Stillthetruth.Justaredactedversionofit.
“OhmyGod,Emily.I’msosorry.”
“Thanks.”TearsgatheredandIturnedtowardthewindow.Mysunglassesbulgedintheside-viewmirror.
“Didyoureportit?Wereyouhurt?”
“No,wejust—wejustgotoutofthere.Welefttown,wenttoLaosforacoupledays.Wewerebothprettyshookup.”Editthefeedtolimithysteria
“Shit.”Heplacedhishandonmine.“I’mgladyoutoldme.AndI’mreally,reallysorrythathappenedtoyou.Ugh,itmakesmesomad.”Heshookhisheadagain.“Whowoulddothat?”
Isighed.Thiswastheproblemwithgoodguys—theysimplycouldn’tfathomhowawfulsomuchoftheircohortcouldbe.“Thanks.Soyeah,thatwasreallytough.AndIthoughtIwasgettingoverit,butthenyouandIstarteddating.AndIrealizedIhadn’treallyprocessedtheattack.YouknowhowIkinda—clammedupwithyouacoupletimes.”
“Awjeez,IhopeIwasn’tpressuringyou,or—”
“No,no,youweregreat.Youaregreat.”Isqueezedhishand.“YoumademerealizehowmuchIwantedareal,adultrelationship.ButseeingKristeninChile…ItoldyouhowshetriedtotalkmeintoleavingMilwaukeeandtravelingwithher.”
“Right.Andyousaidtheotherday,she’salwaysweirdaboutyourboyfriends.”
“Exactly.She’striedto,like,poisonmybrainwithpastrelationships.Ithinkshewantstokeepmeforherself.Like,Ihadthiscollegeboyfriend,Ben,andhedidsuck,butKristenwastheonewhotalkedmeintobreakingupwithhim.Andthentherewasthisguy,Colin,afewyearsago.Itseemedlikethingsweregoingreallywell,andthenKristenconvincedmehewasn’tagoodguy,eventhoughinretrospecthedidn’tdoanythingwrong.”
“Yikes.”Heswitchedlanesandpassedastationwagonwithashaggydoggazingforlornlyouttheback.
“Ithinkthat’swhysheseesChileastheturningpoint,”Iwenton.“Beforethat,shealwayshadmealltoherself.Untilnow.Untilyou.AndIknewshe’dtrytoplantseedsofdoubt.”Itippedmyheadback.“Butshe’sstilldoingit.Drivingawedgebetweenyouandme.Shecouldn’tgettome,soshe’stryingtogettoyou.”
ThatlastnightinChile,whenItoldheraboutAaron—thatwasthecatalyst,thebeatingbutterflywingsthatledallthewaytothishurricane.That’swhyshepickedoutPaolo,that’swhysheorchestratedthewholegruesomenight:Shewentballstothewalltobindusforever,tocreateonesharedexperiencethatputusinourownsnowglobe,apartfromtheworld.Sheactedshell-shockedandhelplessasIhatchedaplantodeep-sixthebody.ShewatchedwithgleeasIplottedtoburyhermesslikeatimecapsule,atickingbomb.
Andthen—cometothinkofit—onceI’dsignedon,onceIcouldn’tturnback,onceitwasclearherplanwasworkingperfectly,she’dreclaimedherusualroleastheforeman.ShedemandedIsurveytheareawhileshedroveahead;shepresidedoverthehandlingofPaolo’sbody.Sheknowsit’stheonethingIcan’ttellAaron,thethingstandingbetweenus,andshelovesthat.
ButthenIthrewawrenchinherplans:Ipulledaway.
IgazedatAaron,hiswristhookedcasuallyoverthetopofthesteeringwheel.Myheartratevroomed.HowfarwouldKristengotorighttheship?
ThehotelappearedandAaronpulledintothelot.Heputtheengineinparkandturnedtomewithhismostearnestface.“I’msorry,dude.Thatallsucks.”
“Thanks.Ijustneededsomespacefromher.AndArizonaisnothingifnotspace,right?”
“Oh,forsure.Andhey,I’mstokedtobeawayfromtheol’grindandhereon,youknow.Mars.”Hegesturedoutthewindow,wheretheclay-coloredridgesresembledasci-ficomicbook.“ButI’mgladyoutoldme.Iknewsomethingwasup.”Hedrummedhisfingersagainsttheparkingbrake.“Youcanalwaystalktome.Weallhaveshitwedon’tfeelliketalkingabout.Andthat’sfine!But…I’vebeendownthatroadbefore,relationshipswhereshe—orI—wasn’twillingtoletthatguarddown,youknow?Andjustbereal.”
Inoddedslowly.Itwasoneofthoseweird,high-defmomentswhentheconversationissoreal,soimportant,you’realmostdetached,floatingafewfeetaboveit.
“See,here’swhat’scool.”Heyankedthekeyfromtheignition.“Youwantspace,youwanttogetaway—Igetthat,I’vedonethat,I’vedatedpeoplewho’vebeenlikethat.Butusuallythatmeanstheyrunawayfromme.”Hetappedhissternum.“Andyouinsistedweheadwest!Together!Makesmefeellikeamillionbucks.”
MyvoicewasroundandshyasIsaid:“Ialwaysfeelhappieraroundyou.”
Iglancedhiswayandsawhischestpuff,hiseyesshine.SoIknewI’dsaidtherightthing.ButwhatIthoughtfirstwas:Right,becauseIwasn’trunningawayfromyou.
—
THEHOTELWASontheoutskirtsoftown.Afadedmuralofsouthwesternmotifsspreadacrossthewallbehindthecheck-indesk,andtheblueandtanblanketsdrapedoverthearmchairslookedfilchedfromayogastudio.Aarongamelycomplimentedeverythinginsight,snappingphotosandpointingoutdetails,asifhecouldsensemydisappointment.God,hewaskind.
Ontheelevatorride,awaveofexhaustionhitme.Iraisedaneyebrow.“Thosegummiesstillaccessible?”
Theroomwasabitmorepromising,withbroadwindowsandaslimbalconyfacingacrumplymountainweeventuallyidentifiedasCamelback.Bristly,moss-greentreesdustedtheflatexpansebetweenusandthemountainridge,andthethoughtspilledoutbeforeIcouldcorkit:ThisremindsmeoftheElquiValley
Thereitwas—thedownwardrushofTHC,likeachoirofGregorianchanterssliiidinganoctavedown.Awholebunchofmonks.Whatafunnythought:Silentmonksopeningtheirmouthstosing,togivetheirvocalcordsaworkout,toletthesoundwavescrashandechoaroundthem.Also,that’safunnyword,monk.Monk.WhatwasIjustthinkingabout?
Oh,right:howverykindAaronwas.Andbeautiful,kindAaronwantedtoholdme,tokissme,tomakemefeelsafe.Safety—whatdidwecallit?Theoppositeoffear?ThethoughtwarmedmeandIcrossedtothewardrobe,wherehewasdiligentlyslidinghisshirtsontohangers.Islippedmyarmsaroundhisslimwaistandkissedhisneck.Heturnedaround,hisgrinmatchingmine,andthenmeetingmine,andthenourmouthsweremovingtogetherinaslow,interestingtango,andthenourfingertipsandsoftskinandallourbodies’corners,innerandouter,concaveandconvex,movedlikeone.
Itwasallfeelingsogood,stretchyandwideandendless,untiltheawarenessofKristen,ofSebastianandPaoloandtheLAPDbegantobuildinmymindlikechargedparticles,likethesuddenviridescentblareoftheNorthernLights,andwhenIgaspeditwasoutofpanic,paniclikeI’dneverknown,panicthatI’dnever,ever,everbefreefrommynightmare.
Afterward,welayspooninginthetangledsheets,watchingoutthewindowasthecrookedhorizongrewumberandthenpolitelyfadedintothebackground,black.
“I’mstarving,”heannounced,proppinghimselfupontoanelbow.
“I’m…Imightbetoohigh.I’mfeelingalittle…anxious.”
“Ohno,I’msorry.Aboutwhat?”
AboutKristenleakingthephotoofmeandSebastian,maybeevensweeteningitupwithananonymoustipaboutitsconnectiontoPaolo’scase.Orsendinginthemoltenlump,Paolo’slicensenumberstillvisible,alongwithmyhomeaddress.AboutthecallsIkeepgettingfromChileanandLosAngelesnumbers.Aboutthecopsbreakingdownthedoor,throwingmeonthegroundandmaybehurtingyou,too,inthecommotion.
“It’slike—IgettotheendofabreathandIworrythatI’llforgettotakeanother,”Isaid,whichwastrue.“OrthatI’llneverhavetheenergytogetupagain.”Itwasalesserconcern,butstillitregistered:Ineededtopeeandthebathroomwasfifteenfeetaway,andhow,hooooowwouldIevercrossthedistance?
“Aw,babe.Guessthesegummiesareprettystrongforanewbie.Whatdoyouneed?”Hebroughtmewaterandfoundanearbyspotwithtakeoutpizzas.Hewokemetosayhewasgoingtopickuphisorder—theonlythingIrememberbeforemorning.Inmydreams,Isawthemamarabbit,hernecksohackedherheadclungbyaflapofwhite-redskin.ShekepttryingtohopbutinsteadlimpedandhobbledandzigzaggedcloserandclosertotheedgeofaChileancliff.
—
WHENIWOKE,Aaronwasoutonthebalcony,frowningathisiPhonescreen.Hewasdeepinaphotoshootwithatinygeckothatclungtotheglass,lovingtheattention.HesteppedinsideandaskedhowIwasfeeling,butallIcouldsaywasthatIneededcoffee.Suddenly,beingherefeltludicrous.WherewouldIbesafe?ShouldIleavethecountry,hideoutinCanada,hopethatnoonewouldextraditeme?
“Ididn’tseeacoffeemaker,”Aaronsaid.“Shouldwegrabbreakfastdownstairs?”
Normalcy—Ihadtomaintainit,hadtofakeit.SoIbrushedmyteethandsteppedintosomeclothes.I’dfailedtoplugmyphonein,andithaddied;withaflareofanxiety,IjabbedthechargerintothewallandwalkedawayrightastheApplesymbolappearedonthescreen.
Thesightoffoodmademyinnardsturn:shinygreenapples,oneofthoseconveyor-belttoasters,acauldronofoatmealwithbrownsugarandraisinsincanistersnearby.Iforceddownabananaaswesatonthedeck,squintingintothesunandpagingthroughabookoflocalhikingtrails.Walkingsoundednice,movingthroughwide-openspacewhenitfeltlikecardboardwallswerepressinginonmefromeverydirection.Weselectedthelowest-hangingfruit,andIrelaxedathavingaplan—athree-mileloopthatbeganjustablockawayfromtheproperty,followingacountryroadandthenbranchingoffforafinalascent.“Rewardingviews”fromaportionalongasteepridge.
AsAaronrosetorefillhisStyrofoamcoffeecup,Iallowedmyselfadreamymoment:Whatifthiscouldbecomeourlives?Notscrapingpeanutbutterfromtinyplastictubsnearanuglylobby,butlivingsomewherenew,somewherebeautiful.AfreshstarttotallydistinctfromKristen,thepast;here,withthesunstampingourtableandlizardsflickingbyourfeet,IcouldalmostconvincemyselfthatthemadnessofthemonthssinceCambodiaexistedonanotherplane,adifferentdimension,withnobearingonthisone.MaybethiswasArizona’smagic,allthattalkofvortexesandUFOsandtheconnectiontothestars:Here,noonecouldtouchus.
Wemarchedinsideandpreparedforourtrek—snackspacked,sunscreenapplied,dorkybaseballcapsperchedonourheads.Wewerehalfwaythroughthelobbywhenavoicemademefreeze.
“Emily!”
Aaronwhippedaroundnexttome,butIstayedstillasanicesculpture,fragileasaflakeofsnow.
“Emily.”Itwasloudernow,closer,andavaultopenedupinsideme,downanddownanddown.No
Ahandonmyshoulder.LikeitwasaneedleandI,asoapbubble,iridescentanddoomed.
Iturnedandblinkedather.Pop
“IcameasfastasIcould,”Kristensaid.Andshepulledmeintoaone-sidedhug.
CHAPTER37
POLICERELEASESKETCHINAPRILSLAYINGOFSPANISH-AMERICANBACKPACKERLosAngelesinvestigators,workingwithChileanofficials,releasedacompositedrawinginanefforttotrackdownawomantheysuspectisconnectedtothedeathofaSpanish-Americanbackpackerlastmonth.PaoloGarcía,24,wasinthemiddleofayear-longbackpackingtriparoundSouthAmericawhenhedisappeared.HewaslastseenonApril13,andhisbody(identifiedbydentalrecords)wasfoundinashallowgraveinArroyito,afarmingareainnorthernChile.Policereleasedasketchofsomeonebelievedtobeinvolved.Thatpersonwasdescribedasawhitefemaleinher20s,about5feet6inchestall,withbrownhairandaNorthAmericanaccent.ThedeathofGarcía,wholivedinBarcelonabuthaddualcitizenshipinSpainandtheUnitedStates,madeheadlinesonmultiplecontinentsandsparkedaninternationalmanhunt,withGarcía’sfamilyofferinga$1millionrewardforinformationthatleadstoanarrest.AnyonewithinformationonGarcía’smurderorthepersonofinterestisurgedtocontactLosAngelespolice.CHAPTER38
Mylipspursedtoasktheinevitable:Whatareyoudoinghere?ThenIstartedtolaugh.Ofcourseshewashere.I’daskedherthatexactquestionmultipletimesoverthelastfewweeks.AlwayswhenI’dletmyguarddown,whenI’djustbeguntorelax.She’dhavesomereasonable-soundingexplanation,forsure.She’dbeconfusedandhurtwhenitwasclearIwasn’tthrilledbyhersuddenappearance.Lather,rinse,repeat.
Aaronaskeditforme,hisvoicebrightbutbaffled.“Kristen,holyshit!Aren’tyouinMilwaukee?”
Hereyesflickedtowardmine.“Itookared-eye.Justlanded.Emily…toldmesheneedsmyhelp.”
“What?”Iblurted.Nowweallthreelookedmystified,aBermudaTriangleofbewilderment.
“Youremail…”shesaidwithameaningfulfrown.
“Howdidyoufindus?”Aaronasked.
“Aaronwas…postingphotos.Withtags.”
“I—WhataboutmyemailmadeyouthinkIwastellingyoutocomehere?”
Shewrinkledhernose.“Ithoughtthat’swhatyourmessagemeant?Yousaidnocontactandthenyou…youcontactedme.”Sheshookherheadandlaughedbitterly.“Well,ifthisisn’tsomebizarrocodependentpowerplay…Jesus,Emily.”
“Excuseme?”
“Whoa,let’salltakeabreath.”Aaronhadthatpanickedlookonhisface,asifsomemysteriousandancientfemaleritualwereabouttobegin.
“No,it’strue,Emily.YousayjumpandIsayhowhigh.”
“Inevertoldyoutocome!”
“That’sbullshit.”Hervoicerangoutandthedinofthelobbydisappeared.Inoticedfish-eyedstaresfromthewomanbehindreception,amomwithastragglingtoddler,asunburnedcoupleontheirwaytobreakfast.
Kristenglancedaround.“Maybeweshoulddiscussthisinprivate.”
“Shouldwegobacktoourroom?”Aaronhelduphiskey.
NowaywasIlockingusinaroomwiththiswoman.Theybothgazedatme,theireyespleading.Butforsuchdifferentreasons.
AndthenitwasveryclearwhatIneededtodo:protectAaronatanycost.Herdesperatecalltohimlastnighthadn’thadtheeffectshe’dhoped;ithadn’tmademehers.Whatwouldshedotogethimoutofthepicturenow?Whoknewwhatshewascapableof?
Idid.Iwasmaybetheonlypersonwhodid.“Aaron,whydon’tyouheadbackupstairs?”Igesturedintothelobby.“KristenandIwillhaveachat.”
“Yousure?”heasked,andInodded.Hepressedhispalmontomywaistashepassed.Iwatchedtheelevatorswallowhimup,andpanicfannedoutinmychest.
“Shouldwegooutsideorsomething?”Kristenglancedaround.“Ireallydon’twanttotalkaboutthishere.”
“No.Noone’slistening.We’retalkingnow.”Istrodetoasofaandsheshuffledafterme.Iwaitedforhertosaysomething,andwhenshedidn’t,curiositygotthebetterofme:“Where’syourbag?Whereareyouevenstaying?”
“Here.They’vegotmysuitcase,buttheroomwon’tbereadyforafewhours.”
“Oh.”Anawkwardbeat.“You…youreallyshouldn’thavecome.”
“Thisisridiculous.Yousendmethatgoddamncrypticemailtellingmetocheckthenews,andsoIseethearticleaboutawitnesscomingforwardandIhaveaheartattack,obviously,andIruntoyoubecauseallyou’vebeensayingforweeksisthatyouneedsomeonetotalktoandyou’refreakingout.”
Ifrowned.“SoyoucamebecauseyouthoughtIwasgoingtotellAaron?”
“No,Icamebecauseyou’remybestfriend.”Sheopenedherhands,exasperated
Westaredateachother,ourgazesformingasinglelaserbeam.Shegaveherheadadisgustedshakeandmuttered,“Yousayjump…”
Well,how’sthatforirony:Weboththoughttheotherhadusatherbeckandcall.
Kristenleanedforwardandmurmured,“Don’tlook,butthewomanatthefrontdeskisstaring.”
“Probablybecauseyou’remakingascene.”
Shestood.“C’mon.Ineedtostretchmylegs.”
Iwatchedhergo,mypulsepoundinginmyears.Shegottothedoorandturnedtostareatme,anexpectantdogimpatienttobeletout.“You…youdon’twanttobealone?”Iasked.
“Ididn’tflytwothousandmilestobealone,Emily.”
Islidmyhandintomybackpackandrealized,withacrashingsensation,thatIdidn’thavemyphone—itwasstillpluggedinupstairs.
Asifshecouldreadmymind,sheheldupherowncell.“Youwantmetoturnthisonandsendthatstupidphoto?”
Thistimenobodyturned,noonegawpedatthebreakindecorum.BecauseKristenwassogoodatthis:makingthemalicioussoundinnocent,incidental.Forallanyoneknew,shewasjustteasingmeaboutadrunkensnapshotfromouryoungerdays.
Whichwasthetruth,inaway.
Hopelessnessswelled,anurgetowailandkeenandbeatmyfistsonthehomelyhotelrug.InsteadIfollowedhertotheentrance.Theautomaticdoorsslidopen,agaspofhotdesertair.Kristentookafewstepsandthenlookedback,herhazeleyesfelineandinescapable.Isawherasamountainlion—facecalm,earspricked,gazingoverhershoulderatmewiththesoftknowledgethatIhadnochoicebuttofollow.
Thehoteldumpedusdirectlyoutonabusysix-laneroad.Kristenturnedrightandsteppedontothecrackedsidewalk.Atleastwewerestilloutintheopenhere;ashortwaydownwasastripmallwithanailsalonandbarrestudioandChineserestaurant.FunnyhownowIwantedustobeexposed,forpeopletoseeus.
“Weneedtojustcomerightoutandsayit,”sheannounced.“Thisneedstostop.”
“Iagree.”Sunlightpressedhardonmyscalp;abeadofsweatskiddeddownmyspine.“Well,wait.Whatareyoureferringto?”
“Thisfighting,thistension—everythingIsayordo,youinterpretintheworstpossibleway.It’ssuffocating.”Shewalkedwithpurpose,andIrealizedwewerenearingthetrailheadAaronandIhadpickedoutoverbreakfast.
“Well,maybeifyoudidn’tkeepdanglingthatphotofromCambodiaoverme,wecouldbothrelax.Andnowthe,theglobofPaolo’smeltedIDsandstuff?It’smessedup.”
Shestoppedmarchingandturnedtome.“Well,maybeifyoudidn’talwaysseemonestepawayfromlosingyourdamnmindandblowingupourlives,Icouldgetridofthemandstillsleepatnight.Withtheknowledgethatmybestfriendwasn’tabouttobetrayme.”
“Kristen,listentowhatyou’resaying.You’retheonethreateningtobetrayme.”
Shescoffedandtookoffagain.Thetrailmarkeremergedontheroad,aweather-beatensignwithamapcoveredinsquigglytrailsandwarningsofeverykind:packwater,don’tlitter,watchoutforpumas.Ifyouseeone,makeyourselfbigandtallandloud.
Thefirstchunkofthetrailwasnexttoagravelroad.I’dgonofartherthanthebigbendupahead,Idecided—notonestepmore.Weclimbedinsilenceforamoment.
“Youarerelentless,youknowthat?”Kristencried.“You’rethemostselfishpersonI’veevermet.I’vedoneeverythingforyou,andit’slikethemoreItrytobethere,toputyourneedsfirst,themoreyouturnaway.LikeIdisgustyou.Idon’tknowwhatyouwant.”Shewhirledaroundtolookatme.“Tellmewhatyouwant.”
“IwantPaolotobealive!”Iroared.Thetrail,flankedbycacti,hadopenedtoawideridgeononeside,andmyvoiceechoedacrossacanyon.“Iwanttoundoeverythingwe’vedone.Iwant…IwantSebastiantobealive.”Tearsrushedintomyeyes.
Kristen’seyebrowsshotup.“Heattackedyou.”
“Iknow,but…”
Isawitthen,myfoothammeringagainsthisribsagainandagainandagain.Withoutambiguity,withoutdoubt.IsawwhatI’ddone.Stop.Stop.Stop.
“Ididn’thavetokillhim.”Iloweredmychinandthetearsbrokefree.Theparchedearthnearmyfeetsuckedupthedrips.
Kristenplacedapalmonmyshoulder.Weweretooclosetotheedge,Irealized.Itwasthekindoftwistymountainroadyou’ddrivewithyourheartpounding,youreyesstretchedwidetoletitallin,yourknucklesonthesteeringwheelwhiteandbloodless.
“Yes,youdid.Hewasabadman.Youhadnochoice.”Slowly,slowly,shebroughtherfreehanduptomyothershoulder.Shepusheddownabit,likeacoachgivinghisstarplayerapeptalk.“Butthisistheproblem.We’reboundbywhatwe’vedone.Aslongaswe’rebothhereand,andfree—we’rebothindebtedtoeachother.There’snowayout.”
Iwastrapped.Whatflittedthroughmyheadinthatmomentwasn’tBen’sharshshoveallthoseyearsago,hisarmsrightwhereKristen’swerenowandthenthesharppush,theechoingclangofskullagainstwall.Itwasn’tSebastian’shands,either,oneagainstmymouthandtheothermashingmywristsintothewall,renderingmeaspanickedandhelplessasamothinanet.
InsteadIflashedtomyfather’shands,hugeagainstmytinyframe,grabbingmesosuddenlymylittlelegswerestillmidstrideandthensmackingmybottominoneswift,discombobulatingmove.Acasualspanking,anautomatic,unthinkingmotion,likehittingtheOffbuttononanoisytoy.Ididn’tevenhavetimetostopsingingthesongI’dlearnedfromLambChop’sPlay-Along.
Joyturnedtocaptivity.Agencyturnedtoimpotence.Contained,controlled,trappedunderthethumbandotherfingersofaforcewhosawmeonlyastheendofapreposition.Daughterof.Resultof.Causeofnoiseandmessandannoyance,disturbingtheairmoleculesaroundus.
Wrathroseupthroughme,ahugeneonplume.
“Nowayout,”Kristenrepeated.
Shebegantoclosehereyes,adeliberateblink,andthesecondstretchedout,slowmotion.Isawitwithclarity,likewewerepsychicallyconnectedagain,ourneuronsfiringinsync.Thiswashervillainousmonologue,themomentwhensheexplainedtome—toherself,totheviewersofthemoviesheenvisionedasherlife,inhertwistedmind—whysheneededtokillme.I’dsetitupforher,teeduptheperfectclimax:Herewewere,onacliffnotunliketheonewe’dfoundinCambodia—onlyheretherewasnowaterunderneath,onlycraggyrock.Aboveus,awide-openskyandorangeymountainsineverydirection.AlandscapethousandsofmilesfromChile’sElquiValley,butthesetpieceswerenearlyidentical.
Hereyelidswerehalfwaydownnow,almostcoveringherpupils.Icaughtitinhergaze,thetragicinevitability.Tokillmewastheonlywayforward.Acceptance.
Butshe’dforgottensomething.She’dmiscalculated.
Yes,she’dbeentheonetokillPaolo,justifiedornot.
ShemighthavekilledherparentsandthoughIdidn’tknowhoworwhy,she’dhadsomethingtodowithherbestfriendJamie’sdeath.
Andyes,Kristenhadbeentheonewho’ddevisedaschemetolaunchSebastian’slimpbodyoffacliff,lowerthanthisonebutjustasdeadly.
ButI’dbeentheonetokillhim.
Allthatenergy,alltheemotionallaborandassaultsonmynervoussystemand,andalltheinternalbatterypowerI’dfunneledintofear:fearingtheworld,fearingmen,fearingmyunstablebestfriend,mercurialanddestructive.
IsawwithpiercingluciditythatI’dhaditallwrong.Theyhaditallwrong.Alaughrumbledthroughme,lightandclear.
Iwasakiller;theyshouldfearme.
AsKristen’seyessqueezedclosed,Iraisedmyhandstohercollarbone.Andintheglintofthemorningsun,Ipushed.
CHAPTER39
Hereyessnappedopenasherbodytippedback;herarmsremainedoutstretched,palmscuppingtheairinsteadofmyshoulders,soshelookedlikeazombieorastiff-limbedactionfiguretopplingover,thunk
No,acartoon:Herarmsandlegsflailed,outlinedinrichceruleansky.Cloudsofdustandclodsofsandydirtpuffedfromthegroundasshestaggeredawayfromme.Hereyesfoundmineinthehoveringsplitsecondbeforeshedroppedlikeastone.
Asplitsecond.Theycallitthatbecauseit’slikeahatchet,themomentwhenlifecleavesintoBeforeandAfter.Inthehangingsilence,theweightofwhatI’ddonerushedthroughmewithawide,downwardwhomp
Theysayyourlifeflashesbeforeyourightbeforeyoudie,butinthatinstant,asKristen’sdeathwaftedbeforeusboth,whatcrashedthroughmewasallthegoodtimeswe’dhad:splashingintoLakeMichigan,thewaterbriskonourbareskin;studyingforeconfinalslateintothenight,crunchingthroughtallbagsofPirate’sBootyandlaughinguntiloursideshurt;gettingreadyfornightsoutinMilwaukee,borrowingeachother’slipstickandearringsandspanglytops;unforgettableexperiencesinUganda,Vietnam,evenCambodia.
EvenQuiteria.“That’sus,”Kristenhadsaid,pointingtowardthehorizon.“Seethosetwolittlestars?Youcantell.”
AndI’dsquintedatthem,understanding.“You’retheoneontheleft,thepinkishone.”
Andshe’dclutchedmyarm,giddyandfree.“Iwasgoingtosaythesamething!”
Avoiceinmyhead,almostawhisper,wiserthanmyown:Thisisn’tyou.
ThespellbrokeandIrushedtothecliff’sedge.Ittookmeasecondtospother—thetopofherheadwasafewfeetdown,andshewasgrippingawitheredshrub.
Shelookedupatme,hereyeslikebrightmarbles:“Emily,please!”
Iflungmyselfontothedirtandreachedforher.Myfingersdidn’tcomecloseandshewhimpered,unwillingtoletgooftheplant.Hertoesscuffedagainstthedirt,tryingtofindpurchase,buttheyjustslidalongtheslopedearth.
Ikneeledandwhippedoffmybackpack,thenslammedmybellybackintothegroundanddangledtherucksackfromitstoploop.KristenduckedasthedirtandrocksI’ddisturbedtumbledoverher,andthenshelookedupagain,eyeswild.
“Grabastrap!”Iscreamed.Dustandstonesdugintomyotherarm,myknees.
Shegroanedandmadeaswipeforit.“I’mgonnafall,”shecried.Herfreehandclawedaroundtheshrubagain,andsheleanedherfaceagainstthehill,breathinghard.
IpressedmyowncheekintothegroundandhungthebagaslowasIcould,lettingoutagroan.
“Lower!”sheshrieked,andIfeltmyarmgrowanotherinch,mywholebodyonetensedmuscle,superhuman,likethemomwholiftsacartofreeherchild.
ThecottonloopjerkedandItightenedmyknucklesinthenickoftime.“I’vegotyou,”Icalled,thenrolledawayfromtheledge,awayfromthedrop,awayfromthedanger,feelingKristen’sweightcomingwithme.Ispunontomysideandherhandappeared,adramaticthwock,theexhaustedbuttriumphantsmackofareanimatedcorpseemergingfromthegrave.
“Helpme!”shechokedout,andIscrambledbacktotheedge.Ireachedforherotherhandandsheflailed,hernailsskinninglonglinesintomywrists.Thenwegrabbedeachother’sforearms,twodeathgrips.Ileanedintotheroad,graveltumbling,bothofusgroaningwiththeeffort.SheheavedherkneeupwiththatCrossFit-tonedcore,andIpulledherontothetrail.
“Kristen.”Webothgottoourfeet,facingeachother.Itwasamarkeroftrust,Idecidedinoneofthosemicrosecondcalculations,thatsheremainedwithherbacktothehill,confidentIwouldn’tpushheragain.Iheardsomethingbehindandtotherightofme,alowhumunderthebirdsongandrustlingbreeze,butIdidn’tturntolook;oureyesboredintoeachother’s.
“Emily.”Bloodleakedliketearsfromascratchonhercheek.Hersweatyforeheadhadconvertedreddishdusttomud,asheenofochre.Thehumgrewlouder,closer.“Ican’tbelieveyoudidthat.”
“I—Ididn’tmeanto,”Isaid,knee-jerk.ThenIrealizedwhatthattoneinhervoicewas:admiration.“Er,Idon’tknowwhatcameoverme.”
Thehumwasalmostaroarnow,climbinginpitch,andIrealizeditwasacar,racinguptheroadwe’dtakenhere.Iflickedmygazethatway,andKristenreachedoutandtouchedmybiceps,gentlypullingmeawayfromthecar,closertoher.Sheleanedherfaceintenderlyandhermouthapproachedmyneck,myjaw,andfinally,myear.
ThecartorearoundthecornerandIcouldjusthearhermurmurovertheengine:“Well,Ido.”
Shepausedexactlylongenoughforconfusiontobangthroughme—hertimingwasprecise,intentional.Sheshovedhard,andIstumbledback,directlyintothevehicle’spath.
Iscreamedandflungmyarmsovermyface,butthedriverwasquick:Asquealofbrakesandthecrunchoftires,andtheSUVlurchedtotheside,sprayingmewithgravelandagustofgas-scentedwind.ItcareenedtowardKristenand,behindher,aforty-footdropandanendlesschasmofnegativespace.
Ipeekedoutbetweenmyforearms,andthepiecessnappedtogetherallatonce,thesuddenrealizationlikeagongcrash.Thrilling,thedopaminegushofFiguringItOut,ofsolvingabrainteaseroroneofKristen’sriddlesorthelastclueinatrickyescaperoom.
Eureka:TheSUVwasourrental.
ThedriverwasAaron.
AndasIwatched,frozeninhorror,mybestfriend,myboyfriend,andthecarI’drentedaspartofapackageOrbitzdealalltoppled,headfirst,overthecliff.
CHAPTER40
AUTOPSYRESULTSREVEALSLAINAMERICANBACKPACKERDIEDOFHEADINJURYPaoloGarcía,the24-year-oldSpanish-AmericanbackpackerwhoseremainswerefoundinaremotemountainregioninChile,diedfromblunt-forcetraumatohishead,accordingtoanautopsyreportexclusivelyobtainedbyTheGaze.Theforensicautopsy,whichwasperformedinChileandoverseenbyAmericanofficials,identifiedfracturesintheskullandsubarachnoidhemorrhage—rupturedbloodvesselsinthefluid-filledspacearoundthebrain—denotingafatalheadinjury.Accordingtothereport,toxicologytestsonasampleofGarcía’svitreoushumor—thejellyintheglobeoftheeye—alsorevealedthepresenceofRohypnolinhissystematthetimeofhisdeath.Noothersuperficialinjuriesorinternalabnormalitieswererecorded,althoughdecompositionleftmedicalexaminersunabletoanalyzeotherfactors.WhileaspokespersonfromtheLosAngelesPoliceDepartmentdidnotrespondtoarequestforcomment,García’sfather,RodrigoGarcía,saysthisleavesmorequestionsthananswers.“ForPaolotobedrugged,hitonthehead,andburiedinthemiddleofnowhere—itjustdoesnotmakesense,”hesays.“Hewasthenicestkid.Heneverhurtafly.”CHAPTER41
Thenumbnesscamenext,mybrainshrinkinginsidemyskullsothatmybodycouldtakeover,movingonautopilot.Isprintedbackthewaywe’dcome.Flaggeddownacar,beggedthecurly-hairedwomaninsidetocall911.Iwantedhertodrivemebackup,butadispatchertoldheritmightblockemergencyservices.SoIjoggedupthehill,asthmapluckingatmylungs,andpeeredbravelyovertheside.
Thereweretiretracks,ahalfshadedarkerthanthedirt,carvedintothesteepearth.Flattenedshrubsandamangledcactus,itsgeometriclimbssnappedoffatfunnyangles.AfewstoriesbelowwastheSUV,itshoodsquashed,itsbodycorkscrewedsothatitrestedonthepassenger’sside.Itwassostill,likeamural,theArizonasunglintingofftheglassandsteel.IfAaronwaswearinghisseatbelt,hemighthavesurvived.
ButthenIspottedKristen’slegs.TheywereallIcouldsee,therestofherundertheSUV’sgrill—legsunfoldedliketheWickedWitchoftheWest.LikePaolo’shairylegs,pokingoutfromhisownblood-soakedbackpack.Theyweretawnyandtonedandhairless,shinyinthelight,withgraysneakersstilllacedupattheend.
Andtheyweren’tmoving.
Myscreamsechoedaroundthecanyonandreturnedtome,asifthelandhadrejectedthem.Thisisyourfault,theorangehillsseemedtosay.Whyshouldweabsorbyourpainwhenyoubroughtthisonyourself?
Distantsirensblottedoutmyhowls.FiretrucksappearedandIthoughtcrazilyofthefire,allthoseyearsago,ofKristen’skindmomandmeandadandtheforkingflamesthatkilledthemboth.Somuchnoiseandchaos,thesongthatdoesn’tend—therewasadeep,rhythmicthwockingnow,too,adrumbeat,no,ahelicopter,allofitgettinglouderandlouder,drowningoutmythoughts.
Acopsaunteredoutofasquadcar,toocasual,andaskedmeifIwastheonewho’dcalled911.Ican’trememberhisface,eventhoughIstaredrightatit,butafterafewsecondsIsaidyes,andhesaidthey’dliketotakemetothestation,juststandardprocedure,toasksomequestionsandgetmystatement.Hewaskind,hisvoicecalmandreassuring,andsoIagreed,becauseofcourseIwantedtohelp.
Thepolicestationwasgeneric,likeamovieset.Hebroughtmeintoaroomandofferedmewater,abagofchips,andweak,tepidcoffee.Isippedatthewater,myhandshakinglikeamaraca,asItriedtoexplainwhat’dhappened.Justonthemountainside,justthosecriticalfifteensecondsthere,sinceIwasconfusedandtoodistracted(ohmyGodohmyGodaretheydeadaretheyokay)togetintothebackstory.
Itolditbackward.KristenwentovertheledgebecauseAaronswervedtheSUVtowardher.HeswervedbecauseIwasintheroad.IwasintheroadbecauseKristenandIweretalking,andIdidn’tknowacarwascoming.Wewereonawalktogetherbecauseweneededtotalk.AsforAaron…well,Ididn’tknowwhyhedroveoutafterus.Truly,Ihadnoidea.ThecopkepttellingmeIwasdoingagoodjob,andIkeptinterruptingtoaskhowAaronandKristenwere.Heaskedformyname,mynumber,myhomeaddress.IwassorattledIhadtothinkhard,suddenlydebatingifI’dswitchedthenumbersinmyownzipcode.
Finallyhevolunteeredtogivemealifttomyhotel—hewassokindandself-assured,“You’redoinggreat,I’msureyou’reeagertogetoutofhere”—butIaskedhimtotakemetothehospitalinstead.Thenextfewhoursresideinmymemoryasamurkymoviemontage:sittinginawaitingroom,askingeveryoneandnooneifmyfriendswereokay;reachingformyphoneagainandagain,realizingwithasquirtofcortisolthatIdidn’thaveit.Iwasuntethered,aheliumballoonthatcouldfloatupintothestratosphereandpopwithoutanyonenoticing.
Asthedaybegantowane,theER’sdoorsslidopenandusheredinapuffofhotair.Acouplerushedinside.Theyremindedmeabitofmyparents:thinninghairandcrinkledeyes,butwiththeslimframesandexpensiveglassesofthosewhowon’tgiveuptheircoolnesswithoutafight.Theyglancedaround,thenhurrieduptothefrontdesk.
Thewomanbehindit,whosehairwasabeautifultowerofcorkscrewcurls,lookedupatthemwiththesameunimpressedglareshe’dgivenme.Itiltedmyhead,listeninghard.Somethingaboutthisstylishcoupleprickledatme,beyondtheirpassingresemblancetomyfolks.Whydidtheylookfamiliar?
Thewomanopenedhermouthandtheworldstopped.
Ifrozeandlistenedharder,indisbelief,withthatsamesenseofcorkedtimeaswhensomethingwakesyouinthemiddleofthenightandyoulisten,listen,listen,waitingtoseeifithappensagain.
Butluckilyforme,thereceptionistmadethemrepeatthemselves,andthistimetherewasnomistakingit.
“I’mJenniferRusch,”shesaid—Jamie’smother.“We’reheretoseeKristenCzarnecki.She’sourgoddaughter.”
CHAPTER42
Ielbowedmywayuptothedesk.
“I’mKristen’sfriend,”Iannounced.“Haveyouheardanything?”
“She’sinemergencysurgery.”Thereceptionistglancedupfromhercomputer.“Wewon’thaveupdatestillshe’soutoftheOR.”
“Whenwillthatbe?”JenniferRuschandIsaidinunison.
Thereceptionistknittedherfingerstogether.“Can’tsay.”
TheRuschesturnedtome,theireyeswide.“Whathappened?Whatdoyouknow?”
“She—Therewasanaccident.Canwesitdown?”Theroombelowmewastilting,thewaytheearthswayswhenyougetoffacarnivalride.
Thomas—Irememberedtheirnamesfromthememorialwebsitewithsuddencertainty,ThomasandJennifer—gesturedtowardacornerofthewaitingroom.
“Sorry,howdoyouknowKristen?”Iasked,eventhoughIknew.WhatImeantwas:Whatareyoudoinghere?
“Weusedtobenext-doorneighbors,”Thomasreplied.“WewereclosewithKristen’sparents.WeliveinLasVegas—Kristen’sgrandfathercalledandwedrovestraightdown.They’reonaflightherenow.ThedoctorwhocalledthemsaidKristen’sincriticalcondition.”
Iwastinglingeverywhere,shocksparkingmefromtheinside.I’dassumedit,intellectually—I’dseenherlifelesslegsatthebottomofthecanyon.Buthearingitnowignitedmygrief,likegasfumescatchingfire.
“Theydidn’twantKristentobealone,”Jenniferadded.“Wehadn’theardfromBillinprobablytenyears.ButIguesswe’retheonlypeopletheyknowwithindrivingdistance.Theydidn’t…noneofusknewshewashere.”
“It’sawful.”Thomas’shandsweptoverthenapeofhisneck.
Jenniferfrownedatme.“Andyou’reherfriend?Youcameoutheretogether?”
“Not…exactly.”Myvoicecracked,ahair’sbreadthawayfromsobbing.“I’mEmilyDonovan,andIliveinMilwaukee.Iwas—”
Theyinterruptedwithself-introductions,TomandJenny,andweresistedtheurgetotradenice-to-meet-yous.
“So,myboyfriendandIcameoutherelastnight.AndthismorningKristen…surprisedus.”
“Surprisedyou?”Jennyrepeated.
Inodded.“Ididn’tknowshewascoming.She’slivingwithNanaandBill.”Ishookmyhead,unabletoorganizethepieces.“Andyou’retheiroldneighbors.Jamie’sparents.”
JennypaledasTomturnedfire-enginered,asifthetwosharedasinglebloodsupply.
“HowdoyouknowaboutJamie?”Tomdemanded.
Irubbedatthebridgeofmynose.“Kristentoldmeabouther—shesaidtheywerebestfriends.”
Alookzappedbetweenthem.
“Whoareyouagain?”Jennystaredasifshe’donlyjustnoticedme.
“I’mEmily.Kristen’sfriend.”Mystomachroiledandmyvoicebubbledwithreflux.“Myboyfriendwasinthecaraccident.He’sinsurgerynowtoo.”Iclosedmyeyesandthesceneranbeneathmyeyelidsagain:thefrontofthecarplungingintoKristen,andthentheentiremasspivotingdownward,arollercoasteratthetippy-topofitshill.
“Wait,yourboyfriendwasinthecarwithKristen?”
“No,he—hewasdrivingthecarthathither.”Theirbrowslifted.“Ithinkhewascomingtogetme,andthentherewas…anaccident.Itwasamountainroad,withadrop-offontheside.Hewentoveritand—andthecartookoutKristentoo.”
Astunnedsilence.Tomdroppedhiselbowsontohisknees.“WhywasKristenonthesideofamountainroadinPhoenix?”
Thiswasit.Itookadeepbreath,steeledmyself.“Shehadjustpushedme.Intotraffic.Shedidn’tknowitwasmyboyfrienddriving,andshecertainlydidn’tthinkhe’dturnthewheelintime.Butshe…shepushedme.”
Anotherglanceflickeredbetweenthem.Isearchedtheirfaces:alarm,horror,disgust,check,check,check.Noticeablyabsent:surprise.
Whywouldshetrytokillyou—that’sthequestionIexpectednext,thatIwasbracingfor,mymindrunningamillionmilesanhour.Itdidn’tcome.
Itwasnowornever.“Shefollowedmehere.Itwasnuts.Iwastryingtogetawayfromher,butAaron—myboyfriend—postedaphotowithalocationtag,andsheflewoutherelikeitwasnothing.AndthenshemadeitsoundlikeIwastheonewhowantedherhere,likeit’dbeenmyidea.She’s…Ithinkshe’sunhinged.”Ishookmyheadandsmearedatmytears.“I’msorry—Iheardyousayshe’syourgoddaughter.Iknowhowweirditsounds,butit’sthetruth.”
Theyweresilent,stone-faced.Adoctorappeared,astethoscopeslungaroundherneck,andaskedforMr.Meuleman’sfamily.Idartedoverandmetherskeptical“You’refamily?”withablanknod.IknewfromthefrontdeskthatsomeonehadcontactedAaron’sparents,atleast.
“Iwon’tbeataroundthebush—thesurgerywasasuccess,”sheannounced,andImeltedwithrelief.“Thatsaid,it’sgoingtobealongjourneytorecovery.Hehasabrokennoseandmultiplefacial-bonefractures,twobrokenribs,hemothorax—that’sapocketofbloodbetweenthechestwallandthelung—andashatteredpatella.”
“Buthe’llbeokay?”Myvoicewashoarse.
Shenodded.“It’lltakesometimeandsomephysicaltherapy,butweexpecthimtomakeafullrecovery.”
“CanIseehim?”Iasked.
“Rightnowheneedstorest.We’llletyouknowwhenhecanhavevisitors—I’dguesstwo,threehoursatmost.”
Ithankedherandshebowedherheadbeforestridingaway,ontothenextemergency,thenextaccident,thenextmangledbodyclingingtolifebyacaterpillar’sgossamerthread.Oneflickofatwigandwe’dlose’em,snap.IsatbackdownbytheRusches,abruptlyexhausted.
Still,questionsfluttered.Thiswasmychance—theuniversemakingtheintroI’dbeentoochickentosendwhenIfoundthatmemorialwebsite.
“CanIaskyoualittlemoreaboutJamie?”
TomcrackedhiseyesopenwhileJennysqueezedhersshut.
“I’msorry,I’msureit’spainfultotalkabout.But…there’ssomestuffI’vebeentryingtopiecetogether.AboutKristen.AndIbetyoucouldhelp.”
“Idon’tthinkthisisthetime,”Tomsaid,soloudlyJennyjumped.“WeshouldstayfocusedonwaitingfornewsaboutKristen.”
“Ofcourse.I’msorry.”Iblushedallthewaydowntomytoes.
Theygotouttheirphones,frozemeoutwiththeirswipingandtapping.Jennyapproachedthefrontdeskagain,thenreturnedandannouncedtheywouldn’tknowanythingforanotherfewhoursatleast.Ishiftedaround,tryingtogetcomfortableinthestiff-backedseat.I’dabandonedmybackpackontheroad,soIhadnomoney,noID,nothing.
“Doyouneedaphone?”Jennyfrownedatme.“Doyouwanttocallyourparents?”
Ishookmyhead.“I—Idon’tevenknowtheircurrentnumbers.AndIlostmybagintheaccident.”PanicwhooshedthroughmeandIblinkedbacktears.
“Aw,it’sokay!”Jennyleanedforward.“Look,where’syourhotel?Icangiveyoualift—youshouldprobablypickupsomestuffforwhenyourboyfriendwakesup,anyway,right?”
InoddedatJennygratefully,andsheswattedherhusband’sarm.“Givemethekeys.”
“You’releaving?”
“It’sHotelRosita,”Iblubbered,andsheentereditintoherphone.
“That’sonlyfifteenminutesaway.We’llberightback,Tom.”
Ifollowedherout,feelingTom’seyesonourbackstheentirewalktothedoor
CHAPTER43
“Youknow,IgetwhyTomdoesn’twanttotalktoyou.”We’dbeendrivingforafewminuteswhenJennyabruptlyturnedofftheradio.NPR,somethingaboutpolicebrutalityinIndia.
Igazedstraightahead.“Itrulydon’tknowwhatKristenisdoinghere.LikeIsaid,Iwastryingtogetawayfromher.Becauseshescaresme.”
Shesighed.“WhenIlookatyou,IjustseeJamie.Youevenlookatinybitalike.”
“SoIhear.”
Sheglancedatme,thenbackoutthewindshield.Thesunbeatontoherfaceinagoldenrectangle,butshedidn’tflipdownthevisor.“Tomcan’tunderstandwhyIkeptintouchwithKristeneither.He’sonlyherebecausehedidn’ttrustmetodrivethefourandahalfhoursinmyemotionalstate.ButIcareaboutKristen.Ican’thelpit.Evenifsheisbadnews.”
Iwatchedstripmallsscrollpastthewindow.“I’vebeenlearningthat.ThatKristen’sbadnews.I’vebeentryingtoputthepiecestogetherand…andfigureoutwhatwasreallygoingonwithher,withourfriendship.”IglancedatJenny.“I’vebeenwonderingwhathappenedtoJamieforawhilenow.Wouldyoubewillingtotellme?”
“Jamiediedbysuicide.”Hervoicecracked,butthensheregainedhercomposure.“Butbeforethat,Kristenhadherwrappedaroundherpinkie.”
Shetookanoff-ramp,trundledontoafrontageroad.
“Theywerebestfriendspracticallysincebirth.Whenwemovedintotheneighborhood,JamiewasonlyafewmonthsoldandAnnewaspregnantwithKristen,sowegrewcloserightaway.”Shereachedouttoturntheair-conditioningdown,andIsawherfingersshake.“Atfirst,Iwasthrilledthatthegirlsgotalongsowell.Butassoonastheyhitthirdorfourthgrade,Istartedtoworry.KristenwasalwayspushingJamietomisbehave:‘Comeon,don’tbeababy,stealthiscandyfromthecupboardorpocketthislipstickfromthedrugstore.’Whoa.”ShebrakedandtappedherhornataBMWsuddenlygunningaroundher.“Theweirdestthingwas,KristenwasalwaysdoingnaughtythingsandthentryingtoconvinceJamieshe’ddonethem.OnceIheardcryingandrushedintotheplayroom,andJamiewassittingtherewithherbelovedAmericanGirldollinonehandanditsheadintheother.KristenclaimedthatJamiehadrippeditoff,butwhenIaskedwhy,Jamiesaidshedidn’tknow.”Herknuckleswerestranglingthesteeringwheel,tighterandtighter.“EvenafterI’dsentKristenhome,Jamiestucktoherstory.ButwhenIcheckedthenannycam,Kristenhaddecapitatedthedoll,notJamie.Weird,childishstuff.ButIwonderedwhatwasmakingheractout.”
Therevelationsweptthroughme.Kristenhadbeengaslightingpeoplesinceshewasyoung.Jennyfigureditwasjustalittle-kidquirkofKristen’s,butIknewthetruth;IknewKristenwasstillatit,decadeslater.Scramblingmymemories,accusingmeofactssheherselfhadcommitted.Don’tplaydumb—Iwatchedyoukillhim.Howeasilyshe’dconvincedme.
AtleastIwascertainnow:KristenhadkilledSebastian.Myshoutshadbeenthedrumbeat,adesperatepleaasshekickedthelifeoutofhim:Stop.Stop.Stop.
“Andwas…wasthebullyingthereasonJamie…?”Icouldn’tfinishthethought
Jennyshookherheadaswebumpedintothehotel’sparkinglot.Shepulledintoaspotandturnedoffthecar,thenleanedherbrowagainstthesteeringwheelandsobbed.
Itouchedhershouldergingerly.“Doyouwanttogoinside,or…?”
Sheshookherheadagain.“IneedtofinishsayingthisorI’llnevergetitallout.”
Thecarwasalreadyheatinglikeapotofwateronthestove.“Um,isthereanywaywecouldturntheACbackon?”
“WehaveOnStar.Whenthecar’srunning,itrecordseverything.”
ItwassolikeKristen—practicalyetparanoid,sensibleyetabsurd.Inoddedandunbuckledmyseatbelt.
“Jamiewasbeingabused,”Jennysaid,fightingtokeephervoiceundercontrol,“byherbasketballcoach.Kristen’sfather.Shedidn’ttellanyone,butshewroteaboutitinherdiary,whichIfoundafterward.”
Mystomachlurched.“OhmyGod.I’msosorry.”Kristen’sassholefather—hewasn’tjustanasshole,hewasapredator,achildmolester.Hadheabusedhisdaughtertoo?She’dsaidshehatedbeingalonewithhim.I’dspentsomuchtimewonderingwhatlaybeneathherdarkcompulsions;I’dquestionedwhetherKristenwasarun-of-the-millsociopathormaybeavulnerablechildcrackedopenbyherparents’deathorhergrandfather’scasualtyranny.Butifherownfatherhadmodeledacycleshecouldn’thelpbutreproduce—bullying,gaslighting,violence—well,itdidn’tjustifyanything,butitmighthelpexplainit.
“I’msosorry,Jenny.Idon’tknowwhatelsetosay.”Myheartseemedtobefoldinginhalflikeasoggypaperplate.PoorKristen,poorJamie,pooranyoneelsewhogotinthatawfulman’sway.ItwasnowonderKristenhadn’thadanyseriousromanticrelationshipsinalltheyearsI’dknownher.
“Thanks.”Jennybattledthetearsforafewseconds,thenwenton.“Herdiarysaidsomethingelsetoo.She’d…shethoughttheonlywaytostoptheabusewastokillhim.Shewassoyoung—shejustwantedittoend.She—shethoughtitwouldbeokaybecausehewasaChristian,andthatmeanthe’dautomaticallyendupinheaven.”
NowIwascryingtoo.Steamfromourhotbreathandtearscreptupthewindshield,closingusin.
“ShediditonanightwhenshethoughtonlyJerrywouldbehome.Justwaltzedrightinanddidwhatshethoughtshehadtodo.Only,Annewashome—Kristentoo.”Shewipedhertremblinghandbeneathhernose.“ButKristensawher.Ranafterher,allthewaytoourhouse,screaming.Itwokemeup,butI—IthoughtIwasdreaming.”Hersobsshookthecarasfogclimbedintothewindshield’scenter,hazingoutthehotworldoutside.
“Idon’tknowhowtosaythis,”Iventured,“butIhavetoask—areyousureitwasJamieandnotKristenwhostartedthefire?IfKristen’sMOwasaccusingJamieofthingsshedidherself—”
“No.Ireadherdiary.Jamiecameupwithitallonherown.”
“ButifKristen—”
“KristenknewthatAnnewashome,”shecutin,hunchedoverlikeateenager.“Jamiedidn’t,butKristenknewhermomhaddecidedlast-minutenottogoawayfortheweekend.AndKristenwouldneverhurthermom.Shelovedhermorethananyoneintheworld.Whenshe—thatnight,whenshegaveuponJamieandrantoTabithaandBill’s,yellingsoloudshewokemeup,shewasscreamingonewordoverandover:Mommy.”
“OhmyGod.”Itfit,butIwasn’tsureIcouldacceptit—couldKristen,anagentofhurtandchaos,reallyhavebeenadjacenttothattragedyandnotdirectlyinvolved?Ormaybeherparents’deathwasthesparkthatignitedhercruelty.Perhapsshe’dthenguiltedyoungJamieintokillingherself,orblackmailedJamiebysayingshesawherstartthefire,or…
IglancedoveratJenny.Shewascurledlikeaquestionmark,silhouettedinthewindow,andforaflashIsawwhatJamiewouldlooklikenow,button-nosedandpretty.Myheartsank.Couldanothertwelve-year-old,driventodesperation,reallyhavebehavedasdestructivelyasKristen?
Justlookhowfarshepushedyou.
Jennysniffled.“SoKristenscreamedallthewaytoTabithaandBill’s,andtheycalled911andkepthersafe.Butshetoldthem—sheknewshe’dseenJamieinthere,andthoughIneveraskedher,IbetshehadsomeideawhyJamiewouldwantherfatherdead.OhGod.Jamieusedtogouptotheircottagewiththemonweekends—Idon’tthinkI’lleverforgivemyself.”
Acry,then,solongandmournfulIthoughtoftheloon,itscallechoingasiftochannelallthepainofabroiling,dyingEarth.Iletmyowntearsstreamovermyneck,soakingintothecollarofmydirtytanktop.
“Butwedidn’tknow.Wehadnoidea!”Shedisgorgedafewmoresobs.“AndwhenBilldidn’tdemandaninvestigation,wethoughtwhateveryoneelsethought:Thefirewasanaccident,atragic,freakthing.ButthenKristenrangmydoorbell.God,Icanrememberitlikeitwasyesterday.Iopenedthedoortofindherbawling.Andinbetweensobs,shetoldmeshe’dseenJamieleavingherhousethenightofthefire.ShethoughtJamiehadstartedit.Ididn’tbelieveher,ofcourse.Itoldhertoleave.”
Shetookadeepinhalationandpusheditoutinastream.Herbreathwasraspy,anoddaccordionsound.“ButthenIreadthediary.Icouldn’ttellTom.Tomdoesn’tknow—abouttheabuse,thearson,anyofit.Itwouldbreakhim.Tomhasnoideawhatthatmotherfuckerdidtoourdaughter.God,sometimesIwishJerrywasn’tdeadsoIcouldburnhimalivealloveragain.”
Thefurywaftedoffofherlikeheat.TearsstreameddownherfaceandIcouldseetheveinsbangingalongherthroat.
Ireachedoutandtouchedherhand.Shejumped,thensaggedalittle.
“ItriedtospeakwithBillinprivate.”Hervoicewasfuriousandcompressed,carbonpressedintoadiamond.“Hedidn’twanttohearit.Anyofit.Hedidn’twanttotarnishhismemoriesofhisson.Icouldhavekilledhimthenandthere.Hekeptsayingitwastoolatenow,we’dbothlostachildandaccusinghissonofpedophiliaandmydaughterofarsonwouldonlycausemorepain.Plus,I’dhavetotellTom,and,andifwe’dgonetotheauthoritiestoexplain,thestorywould’vebeensensationalizedinthepress.Thewholeworldwouldbelookingatmybeautifuldaughter,pityingher,blamingher,callingheravictim,amurderer,lookingforphotoswheresheshowedtoomuchskin,pickingherapart,tearinghertoshreds.TomandIwerealreadyatrockbottom—nowaycouldwedealwiththatkindofpain.Andforwhat?Itwouldn’tbringmyJamieback.Itwouldn’tundowhathadbeendone.Sowepackedupandmovedacrossthecountry,and…andtriedtostartover.”
Myheartfeltlikeacello,groaningalong,mournfulnote.PoorJamie,poorKristen.PoorJennyandTom.
“Kristenwenttoamental-healthcenterafterthat,”Isaid,“aninpatientone,forminors.Ithoughtitwasbasicallyinplaceofjuvieforkidswho’ddonesomethingwrong.”
Jennyshookherhead.“Ididn’tknowthat.Butitdoesn’tsurprisemethatshehadamentalbreakafterallthattrauma.Oh,thatpoorgirl.ItoldyouIdidn’tlikehowshetreatedJamie,but…Christ,nobodydeservesthat.Ican’timaginehowthatscrewsyouup,long-term.”
Inodded.“Youdidn’thearfromKristenagainafterthat?”
“ShefriendedmeonFacebookafewyearsago.Aftershegraduated.Ialwayswonderedabouther,keptherinmyprayers…Jamielovedher,youknow.Theywerebestfriends.Inaweirdway,KristenfeelslikethelastconnectiontomyJamie.”Hereyesturnedsteely.“MyheartstoppedwhenTomsaidthatBillwascallingtoday.IhatethatBillevenhasTom’snumber.”
Igaveherhandasqueeze,andshelookeddownatitthoughtfully.Wesatinsilenceforawhile.
“I’msureyourealizeyoucan’ttellanyonewhatItoldyou,”shesaid.“Notanyone.”
“Iknow.”Sweatprickledonmyforeheadanddrippeddownmyback.Itfeltlikemywholebodywascrying.
“Emily.”
Ilookedup.“Yeah?”
“WhywereyoutryingtogetawayfromKristen?”
Thecarwasalmostunbearablywarmnow,sunbeatinginthroughtheback.
“I’mnotsureIcantellyou,”Ireplied.Allthepieceswerefloatingaroundnow,swirlinglikedryleaves.
Sheswallowedhard,thenbobbedherhead.“Okay.ButIdoubtthePhoenixPDisgoingtolikethatanswer.”
Thepennydropped.JesusChrist.Iturnedtoher,eyeswide.“YouthinkifKristendoesn’tpullthrough,they’llchargemewithhermurder?”
“No.”Sheclunkedthecardooropenandthesaunalikebreezemingledwithoursteamroominside.“Ithinkthey’llchargeyourboyfriend.”
CHAPTER44
Jenny’shusbandcalledaswewereupinmymessyhotelroom.I’dtakenaquickshower,scrubbingdirtfrommyskinwhileJennywaitedonastiffarmchair.IwasyankingoutclothesforAaronandstuffingthemintoatotebagwhensheliftedherphoneandduckedintothemuggybathroom.Whenshereemerged,herfacewasgrim.
“Shedidn’tmakeit,”shesaid.“Kristendidn’tmakeit.”
Myheartdroppedlikeanicefisherplungingthroughafrozenlake,downintotheinescapablecold,andIslumpedagainstthewardrobe.IflashedbacktothatmorninginChile,themorningafter,whenKristenandIstoppedatacliffonthedriveoutoftownandscreamedintothecanyonbelow.Ifeltthesamestrangesensationnow,somethinghugeandsweeping,eruptingoutofmeandupintotheatmosphere.Amushroomcloudofpowerandsorrow.Somethingyoucouldseefromspace.
“I’msorry.”JennytouchedmyarmandIjumped.
“I’msorrytoo,”Isaid,andmeantit.Ihesitated.“Whatdowedonow?”
“Weshouldheadbackthere.Tomsaidtherearecopswaitingtotalktoyou.”
Coldadrenalinecareenedthroughme.MyhandshookasIgrabbedmynowfullychargedphoneonthewayout.Iunlockeditwhiletheelevatormadeitsslowdescent:textsandvoicemailsfromKristen,“Youok?”and“Staystrongmyfriend”and“I’monmyway,”eachoneastabtomygut.Kristen.AslateasthismorningI’dstillbeenwaffling,tryingtodecideifshewasbeinginappropriateorifIwasbeingtoosensitive,toosuspicious.
Butthatwasbeforesheshovedmeinfrontofanoncomingcar.
Well,inresponsetomepushingheroffacliff.Becauseshe’dconvincedme,erroneously,thatIhaditinme.ThatIwaslikeher.ThatIcouldsolvemyproblemsbytakingsomeoneelse’slife.
OhGod.Mystomachgurgled;myvisionswam.ThesilverdoorssplitapartandItookoffthroughthelobby,sprintingpasttheautomaticdoorsintimetovomit.IspatandspottedJennyinthedoorway,butshewhirledaroundanddashedbackinside.Amomentlatershereappearedwithacupofwater,andsherubbedmybackasIbroughtittomylips.
“Littlesips,notbiggulps,”shesaid.
“Thanks.”Iswallowed.“You’rebeingsonicetome.”
“LikeIsaid.”Herchintrembledandshelookedaway.“Youremindmeofmydaughter.”
Ifinishedmywaterandfollowedhertothecar,acidstillburningmywindpipeandtongue.
—
AARONWASN’TAARON.Hewasbatteredandbruised,hisfacebulgingandpurplelikeanoverripeplum.Thefaceofafighter,aboxer.ASpanish-AmericanmanbeatentodeathbyabeautifulAmericanvisitor.
MyhearthadpoundedasI’denteredthehospital,butIhadn’tseencopsanywhere.SoI’dchancedit—sprintingtothesurgerywing,askinganursetherefordirectionstohisrecoveryroom.Thisfeltlikeborrowedtime,sanddrainingthroughanhourglassbeforeeverythingblewupinourfaces.
Again
Gauzecoveredoneeye,awatercolorwashofbluepeekingoutfromthebandage,butAaronopenedtheotherandcrackedawidesmile.
“Emily!Howyadoing,babe?”
“I’msogladyou’reokay!”Itouchedhishand.“Howareyoufeeling?”
“Theygavemepainkillers,so…awesome.”Heswunghishandintoathumbs-up.“Ifeelasgoodasyoulook.Whichis…”Nowhisfingersshiftedagain,formingtheokaysign.
“Acharmer,evenoncodeine!”Iruffledhishair.“Thenursesaidyourfolksaregettinginthisevening.”Iwasprayingthey’darrivebeforeBillandNana,orthatwe’dbekeptseparate,theCzarneckisheadingstraighttothemorgue—Icouldn’tfaceBillandNanatoday.Wouldtheybesobbinganddisheveled?Stoicandcomposed?Or,God…unflinchingand,apparentonlyinthetiniestexpressions,relievedthatshewasgone?
No.Kristenwastheirfleshandblood.Theyweren’tmonsters…theyweren’tlikeme.
“You’regonnameetmypaaaa-rents,”Aaronsang.
Ismiled.“ExactlyhowIpicturedit.”
“Youstillhaven’tgivenmeakiss.”Hepouted,thenpursedhislips.
Ileaneddownandgavehimagentlesmooch.Hesighedhappily.
AnursehadinformedmeAaronhadnomemoryoftheaccident,nomemorybeyondgrabbinghiskeysandpullingoutofthehotelparkinglot,anditseemedunfairtodemandanswerswhenhewasdrugged-upandloopy.Still,thequestionsburnedmythroatlikebile.
“CanIaskyousomething?”Isaid.
“Sure!”
“WhydidyouleavethehotelandcomeafterKristenandme?”
Hetwistedhismouth,thinkinghard.AtleastI’dknowifhewasn’ttellingthetruth—hedidn’tseemcapableoflyingrightnow.
“So,Iknewyoudidn’twantKristenhere,”hesaid,“sincewecametoPhoenixtogetawayfromher.Butthen,whenyousentmeupstairs,Icheckedmyphoneandsawanarticlethatthey’dreleasedanimageofasuspectinthedead-backpackerstory.Itwasaaaaalloverthenews.”Hisfingerswingedout.
Shockfoamedupthroughme,nearingmyjaw,myface,myscalp.TherewasaWantedposterouttherewithmyfaceonit?What,apolicesketch?Surveillancefootage?
“AndIwent,Whoa,thatgirllookslikeKristen.AndthenIremembereditwasinChile!Andthatyousaidthatshe’sbeenactingcuckoo-banana-crackers!”Hetappedhistemple.“SoIthoughtyoumightbeintrouble.AndItriedtocallyou,butyourphonewasintheroom.SoIwaslike,crap.”Helookedthoughtfulforamoment.“CanIhavesomewater?”
Ipouredhimacupfromthebedsidejugandhelpedhimwiththestraw.Hefinishedgluggingwithasatisfied“Ahhh.”
“SoyounoticedI’dleftmyphone,”Iprompted.
“Right.AndIranbackdownandrealizedyouweregone.Iaskedifanyonehadseenyouandthiswomansaidshethoughtyou’dgoneoutside.Iranoutandcouldn’tseeyoubutIstillhadthecarkeysinmypocket.Figuredyoucouldn’thavegottenfar.IthoughtIsawyourredbackpackdisappearingaroundthecorner,soIhitthegas.Andthat’s…that’sallIremember.”
“Wow.Thanksforcomingforme.”
Heknithisbrow.“DidIsaveyou?”
“Youdid,Aaron!I’msograteful.”
“Good.’Causeyou’reawesome.You’rewayoutofmyleague.”Helaughed,aslow,MitchHedberg–likeguffaw.Hepursedhislipsagain,liftinghischinforanotherkiss,andIleanedoverandstampedhisforeheadwithapeck,aimingforacleanspotamongthetapestryofbruises.
“Hey,speakingofKristen.”Hesquinted.“Whathappenedtoher?Issheokay?”
AnurseappearedinthedoorwayandAarongreetedhim,hisquestionforgotten.NooneseemedtonoticemyhandshakingasIwavedgoodbye.
—
HISPARENTSLOOKEDsomuchlikehim:Aaronhadhisfather’slushhairandangularjaw,andhismother’ssharpnoseandprettyeyes.Theirfaceswerecontortedwithfear,butAaronseemeddelightedtointroduceus,quicktojokeabouthisinjuries.IwantedtospendthenightatAaron’sside,buttheywerepolitelyfirminthatparentyway,sotheydroppedmeoffatthehotelandpromisedtopickmeupatelevenA.M.sharp,intimeforvisitinghours.
ButaroundtenA.M.,Igotacallfromthepolicestation.Abored-soundingwomanaskedmetocomeinagain—voluntarily,sheadded,ifIwantedtohelp.They’dpickmeupinfifteenminutes.Ihungup,myheadswimming,alreadyrackedwithwhatfeltlikeafull-bodyhangover.
Adifferentofficerwantedtospeaktomethistime,adetective,andhegavemehiscondolencesonthelossofmyfriend.Hewasfriendlyaswell,buttherewasawolfishqualitydroningrightbelowthesurface.Myheartthudded;Iblinkedhard,tryingtoclearmyfuzzymind.
“We’vebeenintouchwiththeLosAngelespolice,”heannounced.“Andwedon’twanttojumptoanyconclusions.ButitseemsthatMissCzarneckimatchesthedescriptionofasuspectinanAprilslayinginSouthAmerica.”
Hetappedafewthingsonhisphone,thenturnedittome:thepolicesketch,carefullypenciledin,liketheonesonTV.God,they’dnailedit,wisefelineeyesandall.
“Weranherpassport.ShewasinChilewithyouinApril,correct?”
Damn,thatwasfast.“Yes.”
Heputhisphoneaway.“WeknowMissCzarneckiflewintoPhoenixseparately.Onaflightshebookedlast-minute.Andseveralwitnessesatthehotelsawthetwoofyoufightinginthelobbyrightbeforeherdeath.Solet’sgooverthedetailstogetheronemoretime.Sincethisisn’tascut-and-dryaswethought.”
Suddenlyitwasblindinglyclear,asbrightasfreshmint,ascrystallineandcoldasalaser-cutdiamond:TheythoughtAaronandIhadkilledKristentoshutherup.God,nowthatIthoughtaboutit,everydetailpointedthatway—theevidenceshe’dcachedlinkingmetothecrimesinChileandCambodia,allhervaguelythreateningtexts,thewaysheplummetedtoherdeathlessthananhourafterthesketchwasreleased…
Andnoonehadbeentheretoseeit.Nooneknewsheshovedmeintotrafficfirst—thatAaronswervednottohitKristenbuttoavoidhittingme.Allmyinsidescontractedandaretchshotupmythroat.
“Wegotinvestigatorsonthescenerightaway,”hewenton.“They’llbelookingintothetiremarks,thecrashsite,allthatstufftoo.AndforensicswillbetakingaverycloselookatMissCzarneckiaswell—dirtunderherfingernails,thatkindofthing.”
Hetookasipofcoffee.Ireachedforthewaterinfrontofmeandthenwentcoldallover.Thedetectivesawittoo:apatchofpurplybruisesonmyforearm,clusteredlikeabunchofgrapes.Andscratches,too,angryredstripes,lineduplikestretchmarks.BattlewoundswhereKristenhadgrabbedmeassheclawedherwayupthecliff.
AndthenItouchedtheflimsycupandthelastpiecethunkedintoplace.I’dpressedmymouthtoacuphereyesterday,too,leftbehindwetpiecesofmyDNA.
Dirtunderherfingernails.Orskincells.Irrefutableproofthatthere’dbeenastrugglebeforeKristenplungedtoherdeath.
“AmIunderarrest?”Iasked,myvoicestrangled.
Thedetectiveleanedback,eyebrowshigh.“Nope.Thisisjustafriendlychat.”
“ThenI’dliketogonow.”Ipulledmyhandback.“Please.”
Westaredateachother,eachlockedinafrigidglare.
Finally,heshrugged.“Ofcourse.Wecanhavesomeonegiveyoualifttoyourhotel.”
“I’dliketogotothehospital,please.”Whenhedidn’tsayanything:“Aaron’sparentsarewaitingformethere.”
“Surething.MaybeI’llseeyoutherelater.”Hebracedhisbeefyhandagainstthetabletopushbackhischair.“WehavesomequestionsforMr.Meulemantoo.”
CHAPTER45
Aaronlookedclear-eyedtoday,morefocusedandalert.Myhearttwistedatthesightofhim;Ifeareditwasthelasttimehe’dlookatmelikethat,hisexpressionwarmandbrimmingwithlove.Hisparentsgavemehugs(theywerehuggers!),andItriedtoseemcasualasIrequestedafewminutesalonewiththeirson.
Whenthey’dclosedthedoorbehindthem,Iglancedaround—nocameras,atleastnonethatIcouldsee.I’dkeepmyvoicelowandhopeforthebest.
“Aaron,Ineedtotellyouthetruth,”Imurmured.“Itwon’tbeeasy,butIneedyoutohearitfrommefirst.”
“Whatisit?”Hestaredatme,hiseyessofullofconcernthatIthoughtImightdisintegratelikeashootingstar,which,afterall,isjustalowlymeteorthatlostitsway,burningupasitplungesintotheatmosphere.
Mythroattightened.Itookadeepbreathandbracedmyself.
AndIfinally,finallytoldthemanIlovedthetruth.
Itwasn’thard,onceIgotgoing.IstartedwithCambodia—howKristenhadfelledSebastianwithalamp,kickedhisheadintothebedframewhileIhowledforhertostop.How,afterward,I’dwantedtocallthepolice,butshe’dthreatenedme,too,forcedmetocleanupthehotelroom,tohelpherdumphisbodyovertheledgelikeacoinintoawell
Howshe’dmanipulatedmeintheweeksthatfollowed,nursingmefromafar,convincingmewe’dmadetherightcall.TalkedmeintogivingheranotherchancewithaweekinChile,onewhereeverythingseemednormalagainuntilthatfinalnight,whenIcameuponherandPaolo’sbody,andagain,sheforcedmetoabetherhorriblecover-up.SincethenI’dtriedtocutheroutofmylife,butshekeptuppingthepressure.Andthenshetriedtokillme.ShenearlykilledAarontoo.
“Listen,”Iconcluded,myvoiceanurgentwhisper,“we’reintrouble.Theythinkwekilledheronpurposetoshutherup—andtheydon’tevenknowhowbaditis,yet.Everythinglinkingmetothetwobackpackers.”Ishookmyhead.“I’msosorryIdraggedyouintothis,Aaron.Therearen’twordsforhowsorryIam.Buttheythinkweweretryingtokeepherfromtalking.Nooneelsesawwhathappenedyesterday;nooneknowsyouwerejusttryingnottohitme.”
Helookedshell-shocked,hisoneexposedeyeaswideasasanddollar.
Itouchedhischeek.“Aaron,it’sokay.Iwon’tletyougodownforthis.You’rethereformeinawayKristenneverwas—God,it’slikethewool’sbeenpulledfrommyeyes.Allthistime,I’vebeenhesitatingandholdingbackanddoingwhatevershetoldme,butthat’sover.I’mdone.”
“Whatareyou—?”
“I’mgoingtotellthemeverything.”Isqueezedmyeyesshut.“Iknewitwaswrongtohidethosebodies,butIletKristenconvincemetodoit.I’mdonelyingandIcan’tbethereasonyourlifeisruined.Sowhenthecopsshowupandaskyouwhathappened,tellthemthetruth.BecauseI’mgoingtotellthemthewholestory,allthecrazytwistsandturnsthatbroughtushere.It’stimeformetotakeresponsibility.I—Iloveyou,Aaron.”
Hisfaceopenedup.“Iloveyoutoo,Emily.”Hebattedhishandaroundformine,andIgrabbedit.“Youcan’t…Ican’tloseyou.Thoseotherbackpackers—Ibelieveyou;IknowthatwasKristen,butwhatifthecopsdon’t?Whatifthey…”Hewascrying,tearsslidingoverthebulgesandbruises.
“Shh,it’sokay.”Ileaneddownandkissedhim.“It’sreallyokay.Iwon’tletthemchargeyou.It’stimeformetocomeclean.”
Hesniffled.“Emily,youhavetotalktoalawyer.Please,pleasedothatforme.Myuncle’salawyer,he’sagoodguy.He’llhelpyoufindsomeone.I’mbeggingyou.”
Ihesitated.Ijustwantedthistobeover.Iwassotiredofrunning.
“Promiseme.”Hishandgrippedminewithsurprisingstrength.“Iwon’tsayaworduntilthen.I’mserious.Iloveyou.Ifyoucareaboutmeatall,you’lldothisforme.”
AnurseappearedinthedoorwayandtoldAaronsomecopshadaskedtospeaktohim.Aaronkepthiseyesonmineasheaskedthenursetosendthemaway.
CHAPTER46
ThePhoenixPDletmeflyhomeafterafewdaysontheconditionthatIstayinthecountry.Inthemeantime,theykepttheirmouthsshut,buildingtheircase.
ButPaolo’sparentscouldn’tleavemealone.
RodrigoandFernandaGarcía—theywerethereasonwewerebignews.AWisconsinwomanwhoseprettyfacematchedthecompositesketch,killedbyherbestfriend’sboyfriendonalonelystretchofmountainroad,whilethetravelbuddy—me—appearedtogetoffscot-free…well,Icouldunderstandwhytheycouldn’tturnaway.TheGarcías,armedwiththeirfortune,wererelentless:Theyheldpressconferencesandvigils;theykeptthepressureonWashington;theydemandedextradition;theymade#JusticeforPaolotrendinternationally.
GoddamnTiffanyYagasaki,thewitnessfromthebarinQuiteria,identifiedKristenandmeboth,andthenewsvultureswentwild.Trollstrackeddownmyworkplace,mypersonalemail,myphonenumber,usingeverymeansandonlythemostcolorfullanguagetotellmeIdeservedtoberapedorkilled.Kibblequietlycutties.Iloweredmyblindsandwentintohidingasnewscrewsidledoutsidemyfrontdoor.
AllthewhileImetwithDeirdre,thelawyerAaron’sunclehookedmeupwith,andshewasagodsend—smartandthoughtfulandalwayssolucid,nottomentionbeautiful,thepictureofsuccessinhertailoredpowersuitsandstick-straightbob.Wewalkedthroughmybackstorytogether,pointbypoint,asshehomedinondetailsthatwouldhelpsetmefree.Ilearnedaboutduressandself-defenseandentrapment,opportunitytoescape,reasonablefearforone’slife—thelegalcasethatnothingthathappenedinPhnomPenhorQuiteriawastrulymyfault.
TheGarcías’incessantcampaignwasmakinglifealivinghell,sofinallyDeirdrecraftedalettertotheU.S.embassy,recountingwhatKristenhaddoneinChile.SheoutlinedhowKristenhadsubsequentlyfollowedmetoMilwaukee,howshe’dbroughtalumpofPaolo’sburnedpossessionswithwhichtoblackmailme,controlme,keepmequiet.Ireadtheletteroverandoveruntilthelinesblurredandthewordsceasedtomakesense.Phrasesjumpedoutatme:MyclientabdicatesfurtherinvolvementinthecaseandWeconsiderthematternowclosedandMyclienthasconfirmedshewillnottraveltoChile.Ilaughedabitatthatlastpart.AsifI’deverreturn.
Someoneleakedthestatement,andthemediaattentioncrescendoedfromafeverpitchtoaterrifyingroar.Reporters,alreadytitillatedbyAaron’sinvolvementandthesplashycarcrashintheSonoranDesert,swoonedatthestory.Trashynewspaperspaintedusasamurderousyoungcouple,plottingtoeliminatetheonlypersonwhoknewaboutmydarkpast.BlogsaskedifKristenandIweresecretlovers,andonecalledAaronandmeBonnieandClyde,whichmadenosense—weren’ttheyrobbers?
Butevenasthenewscoverageintensified,Deirdre’scarefulwordingdidthetrick;officersstatesidestoppedpanderingtotheGarcíasoveracasethatwasnevertheirstopursue.ItwastheArizonaAttorneyGeneral’sOfficeshewasworriedabout—vehicularmanslaughter,coercion,conspiracy.AndIonlycaredaboutgettingAaronoffthehook,innocentashewas.Sowewaitedandwatched.Iwouldn’tspeakupuntileitherAaronorIwascharged,shedecided—butwe’dbereadyifthathappened.Iadmiredit,theswiftcomputationsinherownareaofexpertise.
KristenandIhadbeensoworriedaboutthemediacircus,aboutbeingcrucifiedbythecourtofpublicopinion,butnowIwasinthemiddleofit,surviving.She’dcalleditontousthatArizonamorning,invitingitinlikeacongregationcryingoutfortheHolySpirit.Twenty-fourhoursaday,Ishutoutthesunlight,movingaroundmydimapartmentwhileaswarmofspectatorsloiteredbeyondthedrawnblinds.
Bythesecondmonth,itwasgettingtome.AaronsuggestedIstayinhisapartmentwhileherecoveredinanearbyhospital,butIneededspacefromhim,aswell,tosleepandthinkandgrasparoundatmyfeelingsinthedark.Besides,Icouldn’timaginetheawkwardnessofsharingabathroomwithhisroommateorthepangofpickinguphisscenteverywhere,justtheghostofhim.
Eventually,IboardedtheAmtraktoMinnesotaforanindeterminatestintwithmymomandhersoft-spoken,self-conscioushusband.Theybelievedme,thankGod,andlearnedtoscanthedrivewayfortheglintofcameras,toscreentheircallsforreporters.Everytimewecrossedpathsinthehallwayorkitchen,theyseemedsurprisedtoseeme,asifIwereaseldom-usedappliancethey’dtuckedintotheattic.
IgavePriyathehousenumbersincemycellservicesucked,andonenightshecalledalittleaftereleventocheckonme.Mymotherwasfuriousthenextmorning,admonishingmefordisturbingherslumber,andthefamiliarguiltcrackledinmygut.Butforthefirsttime,Adrienne’scalmwordscametome:You’renotresponsibleforotherpeople’sactions.Itoldmymotheritwouldn’thappenagainbutthatthemistakewasPriya’s,notmine.ShecluckedandwalkedawayandImadeamentalnotetotellAdrienneduringournextZoomsession.
Then,thefollowingweekend,MommadeFrenchtoastforbreakfastandasked,hervoicegruff,whatmyMilwaukeefriendswereuptothesedays—herversionofanapology.Iaccompaniedherondrugstoreandgroceryruns,andonedaysheshylyproposedmother-daughterpedicures.AndIthoughtmaybe,withoutKristeninfluencingme,isolatingme,hervoicemosquito-likeinmyear,myrelationshipwithmymomcouldchange.
WhileIwasaway,Priyawasonporchduty:Everyfewdays,sheswungbymyapartmenttocollectthelavishflowerarrangementsstipplingtheporch.Thereweregiftbaskets,too,brimmingwithwineandsnacksandchocolates,andPriyacouldn’tbelieveIdidn’twantthem,didn’tevenwanttoseephotosorhearaboutthem.Theywereallbribesfromcablenewsprograms,beggingmeforanexclusive,atell-all,thirtyminutesofpouringoutmysoul.Priyatookthecomestiblestowork,andmyformerco-workerssnackedonthepleasofproducerseverywhere.
Therewashatemail,too,andonce,PriyaarrivedtofindthewordMURDERERspray-paintedacrossmydoor.Shecalledthecops,andmylandlord,blesshim,didn’ttrytoendmyleaseonaccountofit.Ifeltmyselfbuildingupimmunitytothevitriol,thejudgment.Thesepeopledidn’tknowwhatreallyhappened,allthatKristenandIhaddone.IneverspokeupaboutCambodia.IdeletedtheDropboxphoto,butDeirdrewasunconcerned:Nobody,novictim,nocrime,andevenifthephotodidsurfaceonasearchofKristen’sharddrive,it’dfalltoCambodianauthoritiestopursueit—andtheyhadnoreasontowasteresourcesontwoforeigners,AmericanmeandSouthAfricanSebastian.Therevelationwasdisorientingandabsurd:NowthatKristenwasgone,IhadnothingtoworryaboutwhenitcametoPhnomPenh.
ItoldAaronthetruth,butotherwiseIkeptthesecretlockedinside.Itwasoursalone,hisandmine,likethosesunrisesatNorthwestern,gulpingupthedawnwhiletherestoftheworldwasasleep.Wegotawaywithit.Andinaweirdway,itwasarelieftobefreefromtheassumptionthatIwas“Minnesotanice.”
Aaronquicklygrewstronger,shatteringthedoctors’expectations.Wetextedmostdays,withtheoccasionalFaceTime:ItoldhimabouttheremoteprojectsI’dpickedupinSt.Paul,andhegossipedaboutthenursesandorderliesandfellowpatients,whowasflirtingwithwhom.Hewantedtotalkmore,butItoldhimthatwhileIwasthereforhimasafriend,Ineededtopumpthebrakesonourrelationship.IhadtomakesureIwasn’ttradingoneomnipotentidolforanother,thewayIhadswappedKristeninforBen.Fornow,mydecisionsneededtobeminealone.
NanaandBill’slawyerinformedmeIwouldnotbewelcomeatKristen’sfuneral—nosurprisethere.Iimaginedrandosfromherhighschoolshowingupingrayandblack,titillatedbythenewstrucksoutside,thevaguethrillofdramabyproxy.IpicturedBillsuspiciouslyeyeingallthe“friends”Kristenhadnevermadeinhershortlifetime.AndNana,hereyesathalf-mast,knowingthetruth.Asiftheseyearswithherloosecannonofagranddaughterweresimplyborrowedtime,abizarreperiodbeforerealitycorrecteditself.
Aaronwasn’twelcomeatthefuneral,either,thoughitdidn’treallymatter.Nowthatheknewthetruth,hegrievedwithmeforKristenbutalsoforJamieandSebastianandPaolo,forKristen’syoungparents,snuffedouttoosoon.Thehospital’spsychiatristhelpedhimfindatherapisttodealwiththePTSD—hismind,itseemed,hadglommedontothatmomentonthemountainside,thesecondwhenhisgirlfriendappearedinfrontofthecar—andhewasimproving,dealing,growing.
SummerrumbledthroughtheMidwest:farmers’marketsandbaseballgames,FourthofJulyfireworksandthedistantsmellofbrats.Aaronwasreleasedfromthehospitalwithnothingbutacaneforbalance,andwejokedaboutbuyinghimatophatandchoreographingasoft-shoeroutine.IlaughedharderthanIhadformonths.
Inspiteofeverything,ImissedKristen—mournedforher,inthatphysical,achyway,asifeverytimeIthoughtabouthersomeonecrackedopenmyribsandpokedatmyheart.Foradecade,she’dbeenmyclosestfriend,mysister,themostimportantrelationshipinmylife.Buttherewasatingeofinevitabilitytothegrief,asifthingshadgonebacktothewaytheywere,asifshe’dsimplymovedbacktoAustralia.Isometimesslippedintopresenttensewhentalkingabouther,andIfeltherinmyfriendships,mybondwithAaron,thecallowclosenesswithmymom.Kristen’slifeandloveand,yes,deathhadmademethepersonshowingupinthoserelationships.Sometimes,foramoment,IforgotallaboutPhoenix,andinmymindKristenwasfineandfunnyandvivaciousandbeautiful,charmingstrangersinremotecornersoftheworld.
—
THENEWSCREWSlostinterest,andImovedhome.Arizonawasstilltryingtodrumupchargesagainstus,butDeirdrewasconfidenttherewasn’tenoughevidencetomakeacasethatAaronandIhadkilledKristentogether.Noonehadseenusonthatquietpatchofroad,soitwasourwordagainstadeadgirl’s.FolksinthelobbyatHotelRositahadseenKristenscreamatmeandpracticallydragmeoutside,anditwasn’thardtofindcharacterwitnessespokingholesinanytheorythatpaintedKristeninanangeliclight.Inaparticularlycreepytwist,Kristen’sformeremployerrevealedthatthecompany’sAustralianbranchhadfiredKristentwoweeksbeforeourChiletrip.Why?Becauseshe’dassaultedherboss,Lucas,atacompanyouting.Apparentlysheshovedthetinymanintoashelfofliquorbottlesfollowinganaltercation.
Anotherdisturbingdetail:DeepinKristen’stoiletrykit,tuckedintohersuitcaseandleftbehindthefrontdeskatthePhoenixinn,policefoundseveralvialsofRohypnol—theverysamesedativePaolohadinhissystem.Likelynothardtoobtainwhenyourgrandfatherownsachainofpharmacies.
Ihadnoideawhatsheplannedtodowiththedrugthistime,butitmeantthatPaolohadbeenincapacitatedbythetimeKristenswungthatwinebottle.Itmeantthateverywordshe’dtoldmeinthatblood-spatteredhotelsuitewasalie.Sheprobablythoughtnoonewouldeverknowabouttheroofiesinhissystem,whatwithhisbodydecomposingunderreddishdirt.Apparentlytheeyes“resistputrefaction”betterthanblood.Kristen,withherhorrifyingcompulsions,certainlyhadn’tplannedonthat
Themonthstickedon.Fallblewinonacrisp,rustlingbreeze,thenwinter,thesnowdreamyatfirstandthencoldandunrelenting.AaronmovedinwithmeandwespentChristmaswithhisfamily,NewYear’swithamixedgroupofourfriends.Hismedicalbillshadreachedludicrous,almosthilariousfigures,andpatchycontractworkhaddrainedmysavings.Sowediscussed.Wefigureditout,aswealwaysdid.Wewentwiththehighestbidder:almostfiveyears’salaryforthirtyminuteswithacablenewsshow.I’dbeenoverthestorysomanytimeswithDeirdre,IwasprettysureIcouldtellitinmysleep,fromtheminuteKristenandIhuggedhelloinanairportinSantiagotonow.
AaronandIheldhandsthroughouttheinterview,takingturnssharingourstory.Heunderstoodmesodeeply.Itwaslikewesharedanervenetwork,abrain.
—
INJANUARY,NINEmonthsafterKristenandImetupinChile,Deirdrecalledwithgoodnews:Arizonahaddroppedthecase.AaronandIknewwehadtocelebrate—we’dbeenwaitingforthismomentforsolong.
Twoweekslater,Aaron’sgazefoundmine.Wewereinanundergroundclubonastreetlinedwithbars.Tbilisi,Georgia,wasnothinglikeI’dimagined:abeautifulpatchworkoftiledmosquesanddomedbrickhammamsandwindycobblestonepassages,vinesclingingtothecliffsaroundthecity’sbroadriver,andfortressesandcastlespeekingoutfromdistantsepiamountains.Andalwayswine,somuchwine.
Ipulledmywalletfrommypurse—thebagwasn’tleavingmylapthistime,nopickpocketsforme,thanks—andorderedusanotherroundofchacha,analarminglyfierygrapebrandythelocalsdrankbytheboatload.Thebarhadvaultedbrickceilings,amottledorange-white,andthefeelofadungeon;abartendertoldmethespacehadoncebeenhometocovertgovernmentinterrogations.
Thenighthadjustmadethesuddenlurchintoshitshow-ery:Peopleweresmokinginthedarkcorners,aTurkishtouristduckedintothestockroomwithawaitress,andsomeonedroppedadrink,theshrilltinklecuttingthroughthethrobbingbassline.IpluckedatAaron’selbow,suddenlyeagerforquiet,forwater,forthegigglingtangoofustipsilyrehashingthenightandbrushingourteethbeforesnugglingintoourlumpyqueenbed.Maybewe’devenfindcheese-stuffedbreadonthewayhome.Itwaseverywherehere,goldenandgooey,khachapurioneverycorner.
Butthenawomansatdownnexttomeand,hearingmyEnglish,askedwherewewerefrom.ShewasBulgarian,slimandangular,withacurtainofthickbrownhair.ShewasbasedinLondonbuthadtakentheyearofftotravel,chippingawayathersavingswhileworkingherwaynorthfromAzerbaijan.
Iscootedmystoolbacksothatwecouldformatriangle.Shewasgregariousandengaging.Andtravelingalone,shesaid—movingslowlybybus,takinghertime,withoutanitineraryoradvanceregistrations.Sobraveofher,feisty.
“Whatdidyousayyournamesare?”sheasked,heraccentlikeagentlybeatengong.
“ThisisDan,”Isaid,andreachedforAaron’shand.Whenhesqueezedit,Ifeltitallthewaydowntomyheart,mygroin,mysoul.“AndI’mJoan.Wejustlovemeetingnewpeople.”
ForJenWeber,mytravelbuddyandride-or-die
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thankyou,reader,forpickingupthisbook.Whatanhonor,ajoy,agoddamnmiracletopictureyouholdingitinyourhandsrightnow.Thankyou,thankyou,thankyouforchoosingtospendyourlimitedtimeandenergyonthisweirdanddarkadventurecookedupinahotelsuiteinChile.Withoutyou,thisstoryisjustabigvatofwords;you’reacrucialpartofthealchemy,theingredientthatmakesthenarrativecomealive,andI’mbeyondgrateful.Ihopesomethinginthesepagesresonatedwithyou.Thankyou,truly.
Thisbookwouldn’texistifitweren’tforJenniferWeber,mysoulsisterandbelovedtravelbuddy,wholivesinAustralianowbuthasnothingelseincommonwithKristen,lettherecordshow.Jen,who’dhavethoughtourwine-fueledrunninggaginPiscoElquiwouldleadtothis?ThankstoStephenClarke,too,abackpackingstrangersokindandrespectfulandawesomethatwecouldjokeaboutmurderwithinhoursofmeeting.Ha.
Ihitthesiblingjackpotwithmysister,Jules,whoisthoughtfulandkindandcreativeAF.I’msogratefultohaveyoubymyside.ThankstoLeahKonen,anexcellentfriend,brilliantthrillerauthor,andworld-classbetareader.Ican’timaginemywritinglifewithoutyou.ThankstoMeganBrown,comradeonmoreworldtravelsthanIcancount,nottomentionsupportiveandloyalfriendandthorough,lucidearlyreader.Megan,Ican’twaittobeexploringdowntownsandcharmingstrangersinfarawayplaceswithyouagainsoon.ThankyoutoDanielleRollinsforthecarefulbetareadsthatdidn’tjustmakethisbookstronger—theymademeabetterwriter.AndthankstoJenniferKeishinArmstrongforthethoroughearlyreadandforalltheworkdates,phonecalls,andhelpfultexts;everyoneneedssomeonelikeJennifertokeepthemcenteredinthiswackyindustry.
ErinDeYounghelpedmegetthisbookwritteninsomanydangways:Thankyou,Sedi,foryourcarefulnotes,fortroubleshootingphonecalls,andforbeinganincrediblefriend.YouhavesuchagiftandI’msogratefultohaveyouinmycorner.I’minaweofyou!SpeakingoftheDeYoungs,thankstoBenformakingmecocktailsandpatientlyexplainingconceptslikeextraditionandduress(thatsaid,allerrorsandwildstretchesare,ofcourse,myown).Thankyou,Owain,forallthehugsandhilariouscommentsandepicswordfights.AndhugethankstoallthreeforlettingmeescapetoyourbeautifulhomewhenIneededsomespace,metaphoricallyandliterally.You’rethebestCOVIDpodanyonecouldaskfor.
Everyoneneedsahealthyandvariedsupportsystem(justaskAdrienneOderdonk!),andI’mperpetuallydazzledbyandthankfulformycrew,includingLiannaBishop,MeganCollins,AlannaGreco,LeighKunkel,AbbiLibers,AnnaMaltby,ErinPastrana,JuliaPhillips,MelissaRivero,PeterRugg,KatieScott,andmanyothers.LoveandthankstoJuliaDills,whocrackedmeup,listenedtomegripe,andcheeredmeonasthisbookfinallycametogether.You’rethedamnbest(nottomentionsosmart,itscaresevenme).
Hugethankstomyrock-staragent,AlexandraMachinist,forfiercelyanddeftlychampioningmyworkandcareer.Threebooksinthreeyears!Isthisreallife?!I’msogratefultoLindseySanderson,too,foralltheeffortandhelpbehindthescenes.AndI’mtheluckiesttohaveJosieFreedmanhelpingmystoriesmakethemagicalleapfrompagetoscreen—gosh,doIloveworkingwithallofyou.
Ican’tfullyexpressmygratitudeformyeditor,HilaryRubinTeeman,alegitgeniuswhohonedthisideauntilitliveduptoitspotential.You’rethemostincrediblecollaboratorandsageandcheerleader,yes,butI’mmostinaweofyourabilitytowhittleanideatoitssparking,zappingcore.CarolineWeishuhn,I’mbeyondgratefulforyourmasterfulnotesandalltheworkyoudototransformaWorddocumentintoabonafidebook.Therearen’twordsforhowmuchIloveworkingwithpublicitydreamteamSarahBreivogelandJustineMagowanaswellasmarketingmavenColleenNuccio.PleasejustpictureanimationsofrainbowsandsparklesandhappydancingheartstoaccuratelyconveymyfeelingstowardeveryoneatRandomHouse.
WhenIpitchedthisidea,Ihadnoideathatforeigntravelwouldfeelso,well,foreignbythetimeIwrotethesewords.Majorthankstotheessentialhealthcareworkerswhotirelesslygavetheirallduringascaryandstiflingperiod.Andthankyoutoeveryonewhostayedhomeandstoppedthespreadandtrustedscience.I’mprayingthatbythetimeyoureadthis,travelwon’tstillfeellikeafarawaydream.
Lastbutcertainlynotleast,thankssomuchtomylovingfamily,especiallyNagypapaandNagymama,UncleTomandCathy,andofcourse,mymomanddad.Loveyou
ALSOBYANDREABARTZ
TheHerd
TheLostNight
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
ANDREABARTZ,aBrooklyn-basedjournalist,istheauthorofTheLostNightandTheHerd.HerworkhasappearedinTheWallStreetJournal,MarieClaire,Vogue,Cosmopolitan,Women’sHealth,MarthaStewartLiving,Redbook,Elle,andmanyotheroutlets,andshe’sheldeditorialpositionsatGlamour,PsychologyToday,andSelf,amongotherpublications.
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