What If

by Rebecca Donovan

  I climb the stairs to the room I usually stay in and push the door open for her.

  "There's a bathroom in here too," I tell her as she slips past me. "I'll get the rest of the stuff."

  She nods, and I watch her walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I have a feeling she didn't hear anything I said.

  I don't think I can do this. If she has some sort of psychotic break, even worse than she is now, I won't know how to help her. I should call my mother... or Rae. She can explain everything to my mother better than I can.

  I walk around the front of the house in search of a spot to make the call. But the "No Service" message remains lit. Shit.

  Henley follows me back into the cabin as I carry in the rest of our things, along with the couple bags of groceries we stopped to get on the way. I take my time putting them away, glancing up at the door on the far end of the landing every so often.

  My nerves are shot, and I'm fighting to keep my shit together. But I don't want to leave her up there alone for too long.

  I lock up and shut off the lights before slowly ascending the stairs. I pause outside the door to pull myself together. I can do this--listen to her, hold her, let her scream into a pillow. Whatever she needs. I grab the handle, prepared for full-on female emotions. But I'm not expecting her to be... sleeping.

  I brush the hair out of her face, and watch her sleep with her hand resting on the pillow. She looks so peaceful, like nothing in the world could be wrong with her. I wish that were the truth.

  Crouching beside her, I run the back of my hand along her cheek. I can't help but wonder who's going to be looking at me when her eyes open in the morning. My attention drifts to her hand. The entire side from her knuckle to her wrist is slashed with tiny white lines. "What happened to you, Nyelle?"

  *

  Glass shattering has a very distinct sound. Even in my drunkenness, I know exactly what I'm hearing. And it's loud.

  "Maybe I don't want to be your perfect little girl anymore." There's so much anger in her voice, and it comes out strained, like she's physically pained to say it.

  "Nicole, stop!" Mr. Bentley's deep voice booms from within the house. "What do you think you're doing?"

  I find my feet moving toward the house, but they feel like they're made of cement. I stumble across their perfectly trimmed lawn.

  "Nicole, you're bleeding all over the floor!" Mrs. Bentley cries.

  "Call Dr. Xavier," Mr. Bentley instructs. "Tell him to use the back door."

  "Did I disappoint you, Daddy?!" Nicole screams, sending ice down my spine.

  Suddenly, Mr. Bentley bursts out of the front door. The veins along his forehead stick out as he rushes to his car. Then he sees me, and stops.

  "Cal? It's Cal, correct?"

  I nod, trying so hard to appear sober. "Is Nicole okay?"

  "Oh." He clears his throat. "Yes, she's perfectly fine. Just had a bad night, that's all. We're taking care of her. Thanks for your concern."

  "No problem," I murmur and turn to walk toward the street. I look back over my shoulder when I reach the sidewalk, and he's still watching me, standing by his car.

  "Nicolas?" Mrs. Bentley calls out.

  I can still hear Nicole's hysterical sobs drifting through the dark as I walk away.

  *

  As my eyes open, I roll over to find Nyelle's side empty, forcing me up. With a rush of panic, I'm fully awake. I listen but don't hear any movement, so I flip back the covers and get out of the bed. It's just after two in the morning. Where could she be? She's not in the bathroom. I open the bedroom door. The house is pitch-black.

  "Nyelle?" I call out. Nothing.

  I turn on the lights as I walk through the house, checking every room, eventually making my way outside. My heart is racing. The dream, or memory, still lingers, and it only fuels the panic.

  I walk around to the back of the cabin and stop when I see a strange shape in the grass. When I get closer, I realize it's Nyelle, with Henley. She's on her back with her hair splayed around her, looking up at the stars. A hand rests on Henley's head, which is propped on her stomach.

  "Nyelle, what are you doing up?" I ask, still trying to recover. This has seriously been the most stressful night.

  She doesn't shift her eyes away from the stars. "Trying to feel better."

  "Can I lie down with you?" I ask cautiously, needing to do the same. She nods.

  My body releases a quick shiver when I lie down on the cool grass. I'm watching her as she stares intently up at the sky like she's waiting for something to happen. I'm scanning her face, wondering who it is lying beside me.

  "I've never seen so many stars before," she says quietly. "A sky full of possibilities and pain. That's such a contradiction. Maybe they're just painful possibilities." Her voice sounds so sad, I almost don't recognize it as hers. Her mask is cracking, and whatever she's been hiding behind it is starting to show. I'm not sure how to put her back together.

  "What do you need me to do?" I ask. "I'll do anything. I'm not above freezing to death for you."

  There's a hint of a laugh, and I know Nyelle is still with me. "It is a little cold, huh? I didn't really notice."

  "Being with you usually means losing feeling in my limbs. I've come to terms with it."

  She reaches over and takes hold of my hand. "But you always feel so warm to me."

  I squeeze her hand and press it to my lips.

  "I needed to feel that," she says softly.

  "What?"

  "The butterfly." The word comes out in a whisper.

  "What does that mean? That was your wish at the silo, but I didn't understand."

  "Holding your hand. It makes me feel like there's a butterfly beating in my chest. There's something about it that helps me believe everything's going to be okay."

  "Everything is going to be okay," I assure her, wanting to believe it too.

  "I know. I'm sorry," she says, laughing uncomfortably and quickly swiping away a tear that's escaped down her cheek. "I'm not supposed to be like this. You shouldn't have to see it."

  "Hey." I roll to my side and redirect her attention with a finger under her chin, so she's looking at me. "You can always show me exactly who you are. No matter what."

  "I'm not sure who that is," she murmurs, pressing her lips into a tight smile to lock the emotion inside. The forced smile is too much like her mother's. A disturbed chill runs through me.

  "Who do you want to be?" I ask.

  Her eyes flicker, troubled by the answer. I brush my hand on her cheek. I've never felt so helpless in my entire life.

  "I don't know." Her lip trembles and she can't hold back. "I don't know anymore."

  I scoot closer and pull her trembling body to my chest, wanting to take it all away.

  What would have happened if I'd done something that night I heard her screaming? What if I hadn't walked away? What if I'd gone in her house to help her? What if I'd been the friend she needed? Would she still be lying here, searching for herself in the stars?

  "You can be anyone you want with me. And it won't matter, I promise--good, bad or crazy." And it doesn't matter which version of her is looking back at me; she's the same girl. The girl I've wanted most of my life.

  She releases a light, breathy laugh.

  "Although I might regret saying that later," I say, hoping to get her to laugh again, and she does.

  I lift her chin and brush her lips with a gentle kiss.

  "Everything's going to okay," I say again, lying to us both.

  NICOLE

  August--Before Senior Year of High School

  I hang up the phone and lean back in my seat. Curling my fingers around the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, I stare out the windshield. I need to calm down before I can get out of the car. There are too many people here. I can't lose it now.

  I jump when someone taps on the window.

  "Nicole, what are you doing?" Ashley demands. My jaw clenches at just the sound of her voice.
>
  I turn it off. The sadness. The anger. The frustration. And smile.

  "I'm coming," I say, dropping the phone in my beach bag and opening the door.

  "Can't believe we're finally seniors," Heather remarks as we walk along the hot sand, searching for the best place to set up. Or, as the girls prefer it, the place where the hottest guys are.

  "Ooh, I like this view," Ashley announces, dropping her bag in the sand.

  I unfold the blanket and Vi helps me spread it as Heather and Ashley survey the landscape of roided bodies.

  I pull my tank over my head and toss it on top of my bag. Just as I'm about to slide my shorts off, a muscled forearm presses into my stomach and I'm swung off the ground. I yell out in surprise.

  "Hey, baby," Kyle murmurs in my ear. I groan internally, wishing he'd take his hands off me. He turns me around and kisses me, forcing his tongue in my mouth. I count the seconds until he's done.

  "Hi," I say, smiling up at him. "What are you guys doing here? I thought it was a girls' day."

  "And miss seeing you in a bathing suit? No way." He winks. I want to gag. Then he leans in and whispers in my ear, "Besides, you've been away all summer, and I haven't had any time with you."

  I pull back with wide eyes.

  "Don't worry. I stuck to your story," he drones.

  I try to relax, hoping he didn't slip up. He's supposed to say he and I were in Malibu after I spent four weeks at the ballet program. I was actually with Richelle and not with him at his family's vacation home. But I fight to keep our friendship to myself, so I have one genuine thing in my life no one else can touch.

  He pulls me tight against him. "But it's killing me to see you wearing that bikini, knowing I've never seen what's underneath."

  "But that's why I let you do whoever you want on campus," I say low in his ear. "As long as you don't tell, I don't tell."

  Kyle is worried about his reputation. Pathetic. He's convinced the guys in our town that we have sex all the time, and in return, I let him have sex with any coed he wants. If his younger brother or any of the elites found out that he's never even seen me without a shirt on, other than at the beach, he would never live it down.

  I can't believe he hasn't broken it off with me yet. I've been waiting for it for the past year, ever since he went off to college. But then again, he has a sweet deal. He has this stupid-ass reputation in his hometown of being... whatever it is he claims to be. And he gets to live up the single life on campus.

  "Where's Waldo!" Neil hollers. I clamp my teeth shut as he goes up for a pass and runs into Cal, knocking him to the ground. "Oh, sorry, man. Didn't see you there." The guys around us laugh obnoxiously.

  "Then maybe you should take your head out of your ass," Rae snaps, getting in his face, but she really only reaches his chest. I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

  Craig helps Cal off the ground. I watch him brush himself off and adjust his glasses. He looks... taller. But he's still skinny, which really doesn't matter. I'm surrounded by guys with killer bodies--they're still assholes.

  He looks over at me, and for a moment I can't look away. In those few seconds, I'm silently screaming that I'm sorry Neil's a douche. I'm sorry I'm not hanging with them in Rae's garage, listening to music and drinking on that ugly couch she moved up from the basement. I'm sorry that I don't cheer loud enough for him at the basketball games when he gets to play for, like, five minutes. I'm just... sorry.

  I break our connection and sit down on the blanket.

  "Don't you think so, Nicole?" Heather asks.

  "Huh? Oh, yeah," I respond, having learned that's the only way to ever respond. Just agree.

  *

  I drive home, exhausted and numb, wishing I could scream at the top of my lungs. But, unfortunately, Kyle manipulated a ride out of me, so I have to keep wearing this ill-fitting smile.

  "Pick you up for that party later?" he confirms when I pull up in front of his house. "Eight?"

  "Sounds great," I respond with fake enthusiasm.

  He leans over and paws me, kissing me aggressively. I let him, reminding myself to keep my eyes shut until he's done.

  "Babe, it's your senior year," he says, pulling back, out of breath. "Don't you think it's about time we had sex?"

  "Maybe," I tell him, smiling sweetly. "I just want it to happen naturally, you know? When it's the right moment."

  Now get the fuck out of my car!

  "Of course," he agrees. "I'll see you later."

  When I walk into my house, I have nothing left holding me together.

  "Why can't I go to San Francisco this weekend?" I demand as my mother folds laundry.

  She straightens, surprised by my assertive tone. A tone I've never used with her before. "Excuse me?"

  "I was supposed to see Richelle this weekend," I explain, trying to collect myself. "But you called and said I had to stay home. Why?"

  "We're attending a company dinner with your father tomorrow night. He needs our support," she explains.

  I close my eyes, trying to stay wrapped up in the pretty packaging.

  "You know why it's important that I see her," I say slowly. "This is our weekend. I can't miss it."

  "Well, your father is more important."

  I fall apart. "Sitting next to you and Daddy, smiling like some cheap plastic doll while he kisses ass for three hours is not important. He will not get promoted. He will not get that raise. He will stay in that middle management position he's been in for the past four years, although we have to pretend like he's the ruler of the universe every time he walks through that door. He's not!

  "I don't know why you let him treat you like his slave--dressing, cleaning, and cooking for him. Always perfect. Never wanting to disappoint. Well, maybe I don't give a shit anymore!"

  I'm trembling in my rage. My mother blinks at me like I'm a kitten she finds adorable. I want to shake her. I want to unplug her from the program that keeps her from being human.

  "Are you done?"

  I flinch. The emotionlessness of her words feels like a slap.

  "Your father and I are partners in this marriage. I support him by keeping the house clean and preparing his dinner each night, creating a calm and respectful setting where he can feel loved and appreciated. And he puts up with the disappointment of being overlooked in spite of all he gives to that company year after year. Even moving here to fill a position he was overqualified for, so that we can have this life. Saving for a college he was never able to attend, just so you can have every advantage he didn't. So you will be at this dinner. You will be respectful. And you will not disappoint him. Do you understand?"

  Defeated, I slip on the perfect daughter mask and nod numbly. "I understand."

  Chapter Twenty

  The sun shining through the windows wakes me the next morning. I rub my eyes and stretch, debating whether I should cover my head and fall back to sleep.

  I roll over. Nyelle's awake, watching me.

  "Good morning," she says quietly, offering a small smile.

  I groan, wrapping my arm around her waist and rolling her on her side so her back's pressed against me. "Are we awake?"

  "Yeah," she says. "I already showered and brushed my teeth."

  "Then I should too." I yawn into the pillow.

  "Before you say anything, although I know you won't," she begins, shifting onto her back. She lightly traces her fingers over my hand resting on her stomach. "I'm sorry about last night. I got a little freaked. Thank you for being so patient with me. I'm sure it hasn't been easy."

  I prop my head up and focus on her, trying to decipher what patience she's referring to. The fact that she's still lost behind Nyelle, or that being Nyelle can be a little... overwhelming. Now I'm confusing myself.

  "I'm sorry I'm not who you expected me to be," she says, her lips pressed into an apologetic smile.

  "Nyelle, you are more than I ever expected you to be," I respond intently. I can't stand the insecurity in her eyes. It's not her. I
need to get rid of it. "I don't give a shit if I haven't brushed my teeth, I'm kissing you."

  "No, don't," she pleads, giggling. I push my body between her legs and pin her arms above her. She squirms, trying to get free, laughing in that way that makes all the difference. The laugh that I needed to hear. I nuzzle into her neck and trail small kisses along it. Her body relaxes beneath me, and her hands slide up my back.

  I drag my lips down to the dip in her collarbone and she inhales quickly.

  "Wait," she says suddenly. I don't move. "Um... I was hoping to make you breakfast."

  "Breakfast? I was just about to..."

  "Yeah," she blurts, sitting up, knocking me off of her. I collapse on my back with a groan. It's painful being denied first thing in the morning. Or any time really.

  "Uh... you don't even have to get out of bed. I'll bring it up." She sounds weird.

  "What are you up to?" I ask, lifting my head as she walks to the door.

  She flashes a devilish grin. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

  "We're in the middle of the woods!" I holler as I hear her footsteps trail down the hall. "Where would I go?"

  While I'm waiting, I decide to take a quick shower to wash off the day of traveling that's still clinging to my skin.

  As I stand under the stream of water, I'm hoping today is better than yesterday. I sure as hell don't want it to be worse.

  I'm not dismissing everything that's happened in the past twelve hours, but I'd rather not jump back into the deep end of the emotional pool so early in the morning. Her apology was heavy enough.

  We have a week. I'm pretty certain that it's all going to come out before it's over. And when it does, it's not going to be the best day of my life. So I just want to be an idiot for one more day, if I can.

  When I step back into the bedroom, Nyelle is sitting on the bed, in a flannel shirt with the sheet covering her legs. She's wearing a ridiculous smile that makes me laugh. I look around, expecting a bowl of cereal or something.

  "Uh... what's for breakfast?" I ask, pulling a drawer open in search of a shirt.

  "Me," she answers, turning me around. Before I can utter a sound, she unveils her legs and there are pink hearts painted on them. When I look closer, I see pink hearts on her neck, peeking out from underneath the collar of the shirt.

  I grin, relieved that she's willing to be in this bubble of denial with me. Whatever it is that's going to change everything, it can wait.