“My hair,” she whispered, and it was then that I noticed the soft lump in the sink, a handful of hair that seemed to have been yanked straight from her head. Macey stared at it as I held her, eyes sallow and tired, as silent tears dried her cheeks and skin.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, and she shook her head vehemently.
“This isn’t beautiful, Jayce,” she said. “You know it and I know it. Let’s not kid ourselves.” Pulling away from me, Macey reached into the sink for the clump of hair, scooped it up, and tossed it into the toilet before flushing it down. When I reached for her again, she sidestepped me and made her way back to the bed, crawling in under the covers as her hand rested on the back of her head, as though she figured she could keep it from falling out if she kept her hand there.
“Baby, please let me help. I’m here for you. You know I am.”
“I know,” Macey whispered, her voice muffled by the pillow. “I know, Jayce.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, climbing back into bed with her. I reached out to touch her shoulder, and she pulled away, scooting to the edge of the bed until our bodies were no longer close. She was crying, I could hear it, but when I tried to touch her she shied away, shaking her head.
“Just let me sleep, Jayce,” she whispered. “Just let me sleep.”
And so, not knowing what else to do, that’s exactly what I did.
I let her sleep. And next to her, a million miles apart it seemed, I cried, too.
Chapter 46
Macey
Iwoke again at fiveforty-five, still deliriously tired. Jayce was still snoring next to me, and for a moment I just laid there and looked at his face, noticing the tired lines in his eyes and the way the five o’clock shadow was starting to form on his chin. He looked bad. We both did.
Knowing that I needed some time for myself after last night, I put my clothes back on and sneaked out the door before Jayce stirred, walking straight across campus to my car, which I promptly slid into and started up, cracking the heat full blast. There was a mere chill in the air on this warm May morning, but it might as well have been blizzarding for how cold I felt.
The driveway was empty when I got home, so I assumed Kylie was gone already. The front door, however, was unlocked, a rare occurrence when neither one of us were home, and I stepped in tentatively, looking around.
“Kylie?” I called, going to the kitchen. “Are you home?”
“Hi, Macey,” someone said, coming out of the kitchen, and I turned in her direction, jaw dropping to the floor.
“Mom.” The shock in my voice was nothing compared to the full-brain shutdown my body seemed to be experiencing. My mother stepped forward, hesitant at first, and then with more determination. She reached her arms out to hug me, but when I didn’t return the movement, she hugged me anyway, her thin arms embracing me like she used to do when I was a child. “What are you doing here?” I whispered. “How did you get in? How long have youbeenhere?”
“Is that any way to greet your mother?” she asked, holding me out in front of her so she could scope me out. “Jesus, Macey, you look like an entirely different person.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, but she didn’t catch the sarcasm.
