“It’s supposed to be the Hero’s Journey, right?” I say, tapping at the picture of the tire swing. I mentally sift through all the details Seth has shared with me about his past over the last week. “Seth says that swing has been in his backyard since he was born. He and Parker used it a lot when he was little.”
Brie tilts her head, considering the photo from a new angle. “Yeah, I remember Parker giving him a hard time about it.” She glances up at Seth. “He used to say that you spent more time with the swing than with your family. I think he also mentioned that you planned to marry it.”
Seth’s cheeks are already flushed from the cold and excitement, but now they deepen to a crimson color. “I was four,” he says. “And, seriously, can you blame me? An awesome swing or a girl with cooties? The choice seemed pretty obvious at the time.”
Brie crinkles her nose, but can’t stop herself from smiling. “Okay,” she says to me. “So Seth had a thing for this swing when he was little. What about it?”
“Think about it,” I say, brushing my fingers over the photo. It seems precious all of the sudden, this little glimpse of an innocent childhood shared by innocent brothers. “This was his favorite spot for years. And if Seth spent a lot of time there, I’m sure Parker did, too. This was where they normally hung out together.”
“Normal,” Brie says, quickly latching onto the word. She snatches up the first page of Parker’s paper, where he describes the Hero’s Journey in detail, and scans it over. She taps near the top of it, reading the beginning of a paragraph out loud. “’In the first step of the Hero’s Journey, the main character of the story is introduced, and their normal life is defined.’” She glances back to the picture of the tire swing. “It fits.”
I nod and pick up a photo from the second series, handing it to Brie. “Okay, now for the pictures of Harting’s gate. Seth says his mom was super overprotective of him until he hit high school. So he didn’t do a lot of the things most kids do until he started here.”
Brie slides her finger down the paper until it rests on a paragraph further down the page. “’In the second step, the hero receives a call to adventure that challenges him to leave behind the life he considers normal and embark on a journey.’” Her eyes widen as she says to me, “So applying to Harting was his call to adventure. It fits the second step.”
She snatches up a picture from the third series and pokes a finger at it. “And this one, Harting’s outer wall. That’d follow the pattern, too. ‘In the third step, the hero considers the call to adventure but declines it.’ And Seth turned down the acceptance from Harting.”
“I thought it would be too hard,” Seth says. “But Parker kept nagging at me to go anyway, and he wouldn’t let it drop, so I finally gave in and started here the second semester of my freshman year.”
“So it fits the pattern perfectly,” I say.
Brie picks up one of the images of Koda frolicking in the snow. “And that means this picture actually makes sense.” She taps a paragraph near the bottom of the page. “’In the fourth step, the hero is introduced to his personal mentor or guide who will help him through his journey.’”
Seth nods. “I got Koda about that same time my freshman year.”
Brie lunges forward, and I let out a surprised yelp as she throws her arms around me in a hug. The pictures are still in her hand, and their edges dig into my back, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care as she squeezes me close.
“You totally figured it out!” she squeals.
“Um.” I can’t quite get my words sorted out, but I manage to at least get my arms to work, and I return her hug.
She suddenly pulls away and shoots the pictures an offended glance. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. The Hero’s Journey starring the one-and-only Seth Ashbury. Of course. It’s totally Parker’s style.”
She looks up to grin at Seth, but the expression quickly falls from her face. He’s rubbing at the medal around his neck, his mouth pursed in a scowl and all his previous enthusiasm suddenly dead.
“It’s not right,” he says, letting the medal drop from his hand. Koda nudges at his leg, and he reaches down to run his fingers through her scruff in that anxious habit of his.
I peer at him, waiting for him to explain what we got wrong. All the way back to the dorms, he’d been insisting my theory was completely accurate. So why the sudden switch?
Brie frowns and pokes through the pictures as she examines each set again. “No, it’s totally right. Lea’s genius. Her theory makes all the photos fit the Hero’s Journey perfectly, and it makes sense that Parker would use you as his hero. I mean, didn’t he even say he wanted you in some of the later pictures?”
Seth swallows hard and turns so I can only see the edge of his clenched jaw. “But it’s not right.”
I walk over to him and stop right by his side, wanting to comfort him but having no idea how to. He keeps his head turned away, but his hand darts over and clasps onto my forearm, his grip strong and desperate as his warm skin presses against me. I just stay still and let him use me as an anchor.
“What’s not right?” I ask softly.
His hand loosens a little, and he chews at the inside of his cheek as he considers an answer. “Parker was my big brother,” he says, his voice a cracked whisper. “He was always my hero. It just doesn’t make sense the other way around.”
I glance desperately at Brie, but she’s frozen at the desk, staring at Seth with wide, sad eyes. She opens her mouth a couple times, trying to coax out reassurances, but they die in her throat. I swallow hard, realizing I’m going to have to come up with something comforting to say.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I say. “I’m sure he always wanted to be a role model to you. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t admire you, too.”
He pulls his hand away from me and scrubs at his eyes, smearing a single tear as it slips beneath the edge of his sunglasses. “It’s all wrong,” he murmurs, and I don’t know if he even realizes he’s saying it out loud. “It’s all just so screwed up now.”
The silence in the room is too cavernous to stay empty, and my mind quickly fills it with memories of my own sibling—Camille’s frail body lying in a sea of sterile white sheets, dwarfed by her hospital bed but bravely clinging to life.
I never realized how proud of her I was until the accident. Then suddenly all the local newspapers picked up her story, and the entire community started mourning for her, and that pride felt like the most important thing I had left. Because if I’m that proud of her, she has to be a true hero. And every true hero gets a happily-ever-after at the end of their story.
Or at least that’s how it’s supposed to work.
“It’s not wrong,” I insist, surprising myself with how sharp my words sound. I clear my throat and say in a softer tone, “You looked up to him. He looked up to you. Both of you were proud of each other, and that’s the end of the story.”
Seth swallows hard. “But...”
“But nothing. Just because Parker considered you a hero doesn’t make him any less of one.”
Seth rubs at the tiny medal hanging from his neck and gives a small, slow nod.
Brie exchanges another glance with me, her slender eyebrows puckered in concern, and then finally says, “I think she’s right, Seth. Parker picked you as the subject of his thesis. If you’re not comfortable with that, then maybe...” She trails off and bites at her lip.
“I’m not giving up,” Seth says, but his voice is tired and small, and it sounds more like an automated reply than a real statement. “Thank you,” he says, nodding in my direction. “For figuring it out, I mean. Um... I guess we should try to plan the rest of the pictures now.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It’ll be a lot easier to brainstorm ideas, now that we know what direction to head in.”
“Okay,” Seth says with a slow nod. “Then let’s do this.”
A mixture of relief and nervousness wells up in my chest, pushing out a sharp sigh. With S
eth as the subject of this project, I’ll have to get to know him on an even deeper level. And getting to know him was the entire point of me coming here, of course, but now it seems... dangerous.
At first, my decision to come to Harting had seemed desperate and rash, but completely necessary. I’d meet Seth, dig up his secrets for keeping his family together, and then I’d run back to California with a cure for my broken home.
Now I look at him, and I can’t see a cure. I just keep picturing that expression he wore when he hung up the phone earlier, as if someone had just sucker-punched him, but he was too tired to even try dodging the blow. Like the pain has become so ingrained in him, he doesn’t even know how to attempt to escape.
Like he’s just as broken as I am.
Brie picks up the pictures again, and we all flinch at how loud the crinkling papers sound in the quiet room. She waves them at me. “So...are we going to get started on planning this out?”
Seth raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ll help?”
“Of course,” Brie says, offering us a small salute. “As an expert in the life and legacy of Seth Ashbury, I’d be honored.”
A smile tugs at the very corner of Seth’s lips. “Since when are you an expert on my life?”
Brie rolls her eyes, like this is the dumbest question she’s ever heard. “Since we became friends like three years ago.” She smirks at me and adds, “And ever since Landon got totally smashed at that Halloween party, and I heard way too many deep, dark secrets about way too many people.”
Seth groans and lets his head drop back, but his smile just grows. He looks strangely handsome like this, sad and happy all at once, a mess of emotions, but still somehow whole.
“I really need to find a new roommate,” he mutters.
“No, you just really need to stop telling secrets to Landon,” Brie says. “You and half the population of Harting.”
Seth sticks his tongue out at her, but she just laughs and jumps up, pulling him toward the desk. “Come on, take a seat,” she says, pushing him into the chair. I take the smaller chair next to him, and having him close feels different this time, although it takes me a moment to realize why—being close to him doesn’t make me at all nervous anymore.
“This might take a while,” he warns me, and Brie nods in agreement as she plops down on the beanbag next to the desk.
“It’s okay,” I say. I’m not entirely sure I mean it until he stretches out in the chair, letting his long legs reach toward mine until he’s just inches away, warm and strong and a strange comfort in the tiny room. The words tumble out of my mouth again before I can think of anything better to say.
“Yeah. It’s perfectly okay.”
Chapter Twenty
Planning out the rest of the pictures takes up the rest of our day. Brie and I sit at the desk and sift through Parker’s photos, examining them from every angle and trying to come up with the best way to replicate his technique. Seth lays on my bed with Koda snuggled up against him, her snout resting on his shoulder. My quilt is going to be covered in dog hair, but Seth’s clinging to Koda’s scruff like he needs her, so I don’t even mind.
We toss all sorts of questions at Seth, trying to figure out how we can construct the rest of the project around him and his past with Parker. He answers with memories and deep sighs, his tone low and grudging. I know he’s regretting being the sudden focus of the project, but it’s not like there’s any way to get around it.
By the time evening rolls around, we have four pages filled with notes and new ideas for the rest of the pictures. Brie neatly stacks up all the pages and places them in a folder, and then suggests we head to dinner a little early. Seth pounces on the idea and scrambles off the bed, clearly ready for a break. He’s almost at the door when he suddenly stops and says, “Lea?”
“Yeah?”
“The weather’s supposed to be clear tomorrow.”
His words are mumbled and hesitant, but I get what he’s asking. “Yeah,” I say, tapping the folder with our notes. “Let’s try to get the next shot done.”
He skids his foot against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to take up your whole weekend with this.”
“Well, you are,” I say. “And I don’t mind at all. Want to meet at eight tomorrow? Back in the library?”
I regret the offer as soon as I make it—no sane person should meet that early on a Sunday. But I know Seth is an early bird, and I’ve already lost most of my sanity, so sacrificing the last of it to make him happy shouldn’t be a big deal.
Seth offers me a small smile, the genuine type that he rarely shows, and it makes the harsh angles of his face seem softer. “Sounds good.”
He heads out then, and the door barely shuts behind him when Brie heaves a huge sigh and plops down on the end of her bed. “I’m worried about him,” she says, closing her eyes. “He’s so...quiet. I mean, we were actually having to coax him to talk.”
“We were asking questions about him growing up with Parker,” I remind her. “That can’t be easy to talk about.”
Brie nibbles at her lip, smearing the edge of her lipstick. “It’s still weird. He used to talk almost as much as I do, but now he hardly ever speaks unless someone else talks first. And I swear I haven’t heard him laugh in months.”
I head over to my dresser and yank open the top drawer, searching for an extra sweater to throw on. “He doesn’t seem that bad.”
“Not when you’re around.”
I let out a small scoff, but Brie just shakes her head and sits up, pinning me with a stern stare. “I’m serious. Being around you is good for him. He’s always happier.”
“It’s not like I’m some kind of therapist,” I mutter.
“No, you’re not.” She sounds almost a little jealous as she adds, “That’s why you’re so good for him, I think. You’re just a normal girl he has a normal crush on. He needs that. Normality.”
I grab a grey sweater and throw it over my head. “He doesn’t have a crush on me.”
“Seriously, Lea, are you kidding me?”
I take a deep breath before I blurt out, “I’m not interested. At all. Just so you know. Because, um, I can tell you two are close, and I don’t want to—”
Brie barks a sharp laugh and waves to cut me off. “Seth and me? Oh, hell no. He’s like my brother. I mean, that’d just be gross.” She gives an exaggerated grimace, but then her face quickly smooths back into a serious expression.
“But it’s been... hard. I mean, I’ve always been there for him, you know? And now it seems like I can’t do anything to make him feel better.” She nods at me. “If you can make him happier, I’ll be the last person to get in your way.”
I clear my throat and take a step toward the exit. “Like I said, I’m not interested.” I gesture toward the door. “Should we head to dinner? I don’t want to keep Seth waiting too long.”
Brie smirks and pops up from the bed, snagging her book-bag from the top of the desk. “For someone who doesn’t have a crush on him, you seem awfully concerned about the guy.”
“He’s nice,” I say lamely. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
Brie shakes her head. “Candles are nice. Chocolate is nice. New purses are nice.” She pokes a finger at me, like she’s trying to dig her lecture straight into me. “Seth is not nice. He’s a piece of fine art. And you don’t have to worry about hurting his feelings, because they’ve already been shattered into about two million pieces.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I think you’re threatening me, but I have no idea if you’re telling me to stay away from him or get closer.”
Brie sighs and rolls her eyes, like I’m missing something obvious. “I’m saying you’re being offered a very fragile and very beautiful piece of artwork. So get with the program and start appreciating it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I think weather-reporting must attract pathological liars in Vermont, because the sunny day we were promised is nowhere to be seen. Clouds bruise the skyline, dark and p
uffy and threatening a storm. I have on enough layers to make a polar bear jealous, but I think I didn’t get my hair totally dry after my shower, because it feels like someone’s pressing an ice-pack against my neck.
I step a bit closer to the heater in the corner of the library, trying to soak up as much warmth as possible without abandoning my spot by the window. It’s beautiful out there, even if the weather seems determined to make everyone miserable.
“It’s freezing today,” Seth says from behind me, his voice echoing in the near-abandoned library. He’s only three minutes late, which is early for him, and he looks a little smug about it as he strides over to my side. Koda wags her tail in greeting and licks my hand, but Seth doesn’t bother reprimanding her this time.
“But it’s pretty,” I say as I pat Koda’s head. “Makes the cold worth it.”
Seth reaches out and presses a hand against the window. Little edges of condensation seep out around his palm, misting the pane. “Snow or rain?” he asks, posing yet another either-or question. I keep waiting for him to get bored of asking them, or for me to get bored of answering, but so far, neither has happened.
“Snow,” I reply, surprising myself. “This place is kind of growing on me.”
He smiles just a little and then asks, “Did you bring your camera again?”
“Yeah,” I say, holding it up even though he can’t see. “I’m ready to go.”
At least I’m hoping. I decided to ditch my cane today, figuring my knee would be strong enough to walk without it for an hour or two, and it would let me easily use both my hands to work the camera. But I’m just hoping my knee doesn’t end up buckling and making me regret the decision.
“Good.” Seth pulls away from the window, and the outline of his hand quickly fades. “We can just take a few pictures today, and then maybe some next weekend. And yeah. Then we’ll be done.”
I know it’s not true—the project is going to take way more time than that to finish. But I think pointing that out is just going to upset him, so instead I just softly ask, “You wanted to take the next shot at the West Gate, right?”
This is What Goodbye Looks Like Page 15