CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Amelia
A distant sound tugs me from sleep. I rub at my eyes, forcing them to let in the blaring morning light, and I realize I’m not where I’m expecting to be.
The navy walls are covered with vintage punk posters and a few original sketches. I look to my side, but the only sign of Sebastian is in the form of an imprint on the dark green sheets.
I take slow breaths and turn back into the pillow, letting myself relive last night. I barrel through the memory of the storage room at the bar and my clammy fear and focus only on Sebastian.
Smiling, I close my eyes and exhale. I don’t know what I thought it would be like, but whatever I’d imagined, it was better. Perfect even. There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to worry about. Somehow I’d known exactly what to do, rising and falling to him naturally like the tide following the moon.
The telltale sound of pipes cutting off water snaps my eyes open. I suddenly realize that I’m completely naked beneath this downy comforter and that makes me self-conscious despite the fact that after last night, there’s nothing left to hide.
I quickly pull the top sheet around my body like a wrap and set my feet on the floor.
My racquet bag, I see, is on a chair next to the desk. I tiptoe over to it and dig through the contents for my phone. No matter how little my parents notice me lately, I definitely should have let them know I’d be out all night.
“Huh.” I see that there are outgoing texts to both Nancy and Audra so I guess Sebastian took care of that too.
The bedroom door bursts open and my head shoots up.
Sebastian steps through the door and tosses a wet towel into his clothes hamper. “You’re up.”
The sight of him, damp from a shower and wearing nothing but a pair of loose jeans, causes my heart to lurch.
Oblivious to my perusal, he looks down at the phone in my hand. “I hope it’s okay that I texted Nancy from your phone last night,” he says. “I didn’t want her to worry.”
“Yeah, it’s… thank you.” Nerves fluttering, I awkwardly stuff the phone back in my bag and pull the sheet tighter around my body. “Thank you for everything.”
He pushes his hair back. It’s still wet, the ends just starting to curl behind his ears. “I feel like I should be the one thanking you. Last night was...”
I glance down and then up, my lips curving in a shy half smile.
“There it is.” He bends forward and kisses the dimple on my cheek, a move that makes my breath catch. Then he kisses the corner of my mouth and buries his face into my neck. My hand automatically goes to the base of his skull. His skin is cooling and smells so good—like soap and fall leaves.
Groaning, he stands up and gives my upper arms a reluctant squeeze. “I’ll make coffee and then take you to your car, okay?”
“Okay.” My eyes move over the floor of his bedroom, searching for my discarded clothes. “I’ll get dressed.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me and runs one finger over my collarbone. “You sure you want to do that?”
More smiling and bashful staring. Good gravy, we’re ridiculous.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay then.” He gives me a reluctant shrug. “Coffee it is.”
Sebastian leaves to go get the coffee started and I dig around his room for my clothes.
“How in the heck did you get all the way over here?” I mumble at my underwear as I scoop them up from the bookshelf.
It’s not until after I find my ruined tennis shorts and my top tangled up in his comforter that I realize I don’t want to get back in those clothes. They remind me of Wesley and the bar and everything I want to forget about yesterday.
Thinking that Sebastian probably has a shirt and a pair of gym shorts that will work for me, I amble to his dresser. In the second drawer down I find a pile of shirts. Beside that is his sketchbook and I pick it up and turn it over in my hands.
I pause, wondering if this is intrusive of me. I mean… he did let me look at it before so it’s not like I’m actually snooping without permission. Eventually curiosity wins out and I sit down on the mattress and cautiously start to flip through the pages.
His drawings are as beautiful as I remember. I deliberately study the long, bold strokes and the expert shading. Whether Sebastian is willing to admit it or not, he has real talent and I wish that he’d pursue it. But who am I to talk about pursuing anything? I have no idea what I want to do with my life now. My stomach twists as I think back over all the college acceptances I’ve gotten in the mail and have balled-up and tossed into the trash.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I continue to move through the sketchbook, noting landscapes that I recognize and a couple of drawings of myself. Then I get to a page that makes my heart and everything around me freeze in place.
I’ve seen the drawing before but I must have forgotten about it. It’s Daphne and me lying side by side in the grass of the school courtyard. She’s wearing huge sunglasses and laughing. Our fingertips are barely touching.
As I take it in, my throat constricts and a hot tear slides down my cheek.
My sister will never see this sketch.
She’ll never hear about last night or tell me about her own magical night.
She’ll never make it to Olney, Illinois to see those silly albino squirrels she was so crazy for.
She’ll never do anything.
Without warning, the pain hits. It’s too big to contain, spilling out over me and stealing my breath. Tears fall freely down my face now.
I sniff and look around Sebastian’s room but everything is different, like I’m seeing it through fogged glass. What felt right just a few minutes ago suddenly feels strange and filled with a heavy uncertainty.
With shaking hands, I stand from the bed and set the sketchbook back down in the dresser drawer. As I do, a piece of paper falls from the last pages. I recognize it immediately as something I’ve seen in Daddy’s office a hundred times: a summons to appear in court.
I know I shouldn’t read it—that I have no right to invade Sebastian’s privacy in this way, but words like custody and minor in question catch my attention.
I taste bile in my throat. This can’t be right.
Sebastian is being sued?
***
He’s standing at the counter busily pouring coffee into a mug.
“Not only do I have coffee ready,” Sebastian says, his back still to me. “But I made toast too. A real gourmet meal.”
I look around the kitchen. “Where’s Carter?”
“I told him he could play a video game. I figured that would give us time.” He finally turns around and sees the expression on my face and the redness around my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I hold up the court summons. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
His whole body tenses. “You haven’t exactly been available.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He swallows hard and rakes a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that. I… I don’t know. Amelia, you’ve been going through a lot and I didn’t want to bother you with this.”
I look down at my hands, feeling guiltier than ever. I could work up an argument, but what’s the point? I know he’s right. I’ve been so lost in grief, I failed to notice that Sebastian was going through his own struggle.
“I still wish you would’ve told me,” I whisper.
“I know, and I wanted to tell you, but the timing never seemed right.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Right now I’m trying to find a lawyer. I can pay for most of the retainer, but I still can’t find anyone who wants to take the case. I’ll figure it out though. I just have to do it by May 11th.”
“What happens on May 11th?”
“That’s the date I have to appear before a judge.”
“Oh.” I set the paper down on the kitchen table. “I really am sorry.”
He shrugs, his face unre
adable. “It’ll be okay. So… coffee? Toast?”
I shake my head. I don’t want coffee or toast. I don’t even want to be here anymore. That sick, unsettled feeling is growing in my belly.
“Amelia, now what’s wrong?”
I don’t say anything. How can I possibly explain this to him?
Sebastian hesitantly asks, “Is it… is it about last night?”
“I…” I take a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He lets that sink in for a minute then turns away from me. “I thought we were good. I thought we were together.”
“I’m not sure what that means anymore,” I admit.
He looks back to me and asks in a plaintive tone, “How can you say that?”
I don’t know what I’m doing, but it’s like fire is burning up my arms. It’s a weird sensation. I’m confused and scared and I’m… mad. At myself. At Sebastian. At my parents. At Spencer McGovern and his mother. I’m mad at everyone.
The hole in my chest—the one that’s been there since Daphne died—is still there. Last night didn’t change it. It didn’t fill it or make it disappear, and I was stupid and naive to think otherwise.
“I just think it might have been a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he asks me in exasperation. “You call me last night to pick you up and you come here and you initiate sex and now—”
“I was drunk.” The words pop out of my mouth before I can even consider them.
He staggers back. “What?”
“I… I was upset yesterday and you know I was at a bar and…” I shrug. The lie stings, but it’s somehow easier than telling the truth—that I have no idea what’s wrong with me and I’m not sure I ever will.
Sebastian looks gutted. His face is pale and he can barely lift his eyes to meet mine. “You were drunk?” he repeats, needing even more confirmation of my betrayal.
I hate this. I nod anyway.
He falls into a chair and drops his head. “I thought…”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him again, hating myself, hating all of this. He’s angry. Hurt. I know I should stop, but I can’t. “I know you must be mad right now.”
His laugh is bitter and accusatory. “I can’t even be mad at you, can I? You’ve been through something horrible. Your sister is gone and I want to help, but you keep pushing me away and…”
I know what’s coming next. I know that he’s about to give up on me and I can’t even blame him for it. I’m a mess. A lost cause. I’ve faked and lied and burned everything good in my life down to the ground. I abandoned ship. It only makes sense that he would bail too.
Sebastian blows out a long, defeated breath and says, “I don’t know what else to do for you.”
I turn to hide my face. “I don’t need you to do anything for me.”
“Why? Because you’re just fine?”
I realize I’m probably making a terrible mistake but I can’t handle it. I can’t handle how he’s looking at me like he can see all the way through me. It makes me feel exposed and raw in a way that I’ve never felt before.
I’m done. All I want is to slink home and crawl back into my bed and stay there forever like some princess in a story. Forgotten about, I’ll sleep for an eternity and vines and moss will grow right over my bones. But first, I have to end this conversation.
“Look,” I say to him, trying to sound a heck of a lot steadier than I feel. “It’s not that I don’t care about you.”
He blinks at me. “Amelia, if you cared at all... if you felt even the tiniest bit of what I feel for you, you wouldn’t be doing this.”
My eyes are wet. My lungs are starting to heave for oxygen. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why isn’t it that simple?”
“Because it can’t be.” I’m crying again.
“Why not?”
Why not? The question pokes at the frustration and anger inside of me. I take a step toward him and wag my finger. “Because you don’t understand what it’s like for me!”
“You don’t think I understand what it’s like to lose someone?” he shouts back. “Take a look around my life, Amelia. My whole existence is about losing people. My mother, Carter, and now you!”
“If you think you can just wave a magic wand and make me better—”
His eyebrows cave on his forehead. “What are you talking about? When did I think that?”
I shake my head. My thoughts are muddled and I’m not making sense anymore. “Just stop—okay? I can’t do this with you anymore. It’s too much!”
Sebastian is breathing hard. He looks down at his lap for a long time. Finally, he asks, “So what are you saying? It’s over?”
“I… I think so,” I say to him, my chest aching. “Eventually you’ll see that this is for the best. You and I are making each other miserable, Sebastian.”
He picks his face up and I can see the pain there. “I make you miserable?”
Struggling not to cry more, I tell him, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just think it’ll be better if I’m alone.”
“At least let me give you a ride home,” he says, his voice hoarse.
I give a hard shake of my head. “No, I’ll text Audra to come get me.”
He won’t look at me anymore. “Fine.”
I glance at the untouched coffee mugs sitting on the counter and the toast he put on a plate for me. God, this is so uncomfortable.
“I know you don’t want to hear it,” I say, “but I am sorry.”
Sebastian nods, accepting that, and my heart pounds out a protest. Fight me, I think, suddenly panicked as the weight of what I’ve just done settles onto my shoulders.
“I wish—I wish things were different,” I continue. “But I can’t do it. I can’t pretend anymore.”
“I don’t want you to pretend,” he says to me. “All I want is for you to be okay.”
“Okay?” My laugh is like acid. “I’ll never be okay again. My sister isn’t just gone. She’s not on vacation or in the bathroom doing her hair. She’s dead. For the rest of my life, I’ll be a twinless twin.”
“Amelia… don’t.”
“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” I croak out, my voice breaking. “Daphne is dead and the absence of her is so loud that I can’t hear anything else. I don’t know what to do, Sebastian. Tell me, what am I supposed to do?”
He finally looks up, his grey eyes pinning me in place. “You listen.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Bash
I am a fool.
I went all in and I lost. As Mama would say, the wheels on the metaphorical bus have come flying off and now I’m left stranded on the side of a road without a ride.
“Do you know how to say turtle?”
Startled out of my stupor, I look across my desk to Audra, who is flicking through the paperback Spanish-English dictionary in her hands and trying to translate the paragraph we’ve been assigned. I guess I should be grateful that Mr. Gubera didn’t pair me with Amelia, but as soon as he called out her best friend’s name, I knew my life was back to being a cosmic joke. The universe hates me.
“Hello, Bash? Turtle?” Audra presses.
“Tortuga.”
“Got it,” she says, nodding her blond head and scribbling down the word.
Amelia is on the other side of the classroom working with Asher O’Brien, who I didn’t realize how much I disliked until he was sitting next to my ex-girlfriend, obviously trying to find reasons to touch her.
“You okay there, buckaroo?” asks Audra.
I clear my throat and swipe a hand over my hot forehead. “Yeah.”
Not buying it, she glances over her shoulder to Amelia. “At least she’s here today.”
That’s true. As much as I flinched when I saw her walk through the door of the classroom, I was also relieved. Her attendance is hit or miss these days and when she misses, I worry. I don’t want to worry about her, but I do it anyway and maybe there’s a part of me that always will.
In the beginning, I wanted to forget because it was easier that way. I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t even bear to think of her or what she’d become to me, so I shoved her into a tiny shadowed room and put a padlock on the door.
And it even worked for a short while. But what I didn’t count on is that there are some thoughts that are too powerful for locks and keys. Thoughts that are strong enough to break through walls and claw their way out of their steely cages when you’re least expecting it. Thoughts that can detonate like bombs, obliterating anything around them.
I think you love me.
I do love her but it isn’t enough, is it? Poetry and song lyrics might want us to believe that finding love is like uncovering buried treasure, but now I know the truth. There’s no joy or celebration in love. There are no happy endings. There is simply me and her and a crushing pain. What’s left after that? An entire life of mute should-haves and second-bests.
I’m angry. And I know how twisted and unfair that is. After all Amelia has been through, I have no right to feel any venom toward her, but it’s there—outrage and anguish at war within me, my heart stretched too thin by the hectic pull of loving her and losing her all in the same breath.
“You’re a wreck, aren’t you?”
I blink at Audra, thinking I’ve misheard her. “What?”
“I can tell, you know, that you’re a wreck,” she says. “I’ve seen wet cats that look happier than you.”
Humiliated that I’m so transparent, I shrink down into my chair. “It doesn’t matter.”
She tips her head, letting her long blond hair fall to one side. “Maybe, maybe not.”
I despise the tiny kernel of hope that I feel in my chest, but this is what my life has been reduced to—hanging on to any shred of Amelia that I can get my hands on. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She looks at me, her face grave, and says quietly. “She’s a mess too.”
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