DANI
Now, I have to admit that I’m terrified of what the future holds. We both decided to skip our graduation because my mom was too sick to go, and Vic didn’t have anyone to see him off. I wonder if he is starting to suspect something is up with her. If he does, he doesn’t comment on it. The weight of this secret is almost too much to bear. I feel myself crumbling, wanting to confide in him, but that would be selfish of me.
With that thought, I add a few more items to the box. When it’s full, I place the flaps down and run a strip of tape along the crease, sealing it shut. “There,” I murmur as I grab the black Sharpie, labeling it.
I continue to help Vic sort through everything, deciding what to donate, keep, or sell. We’ve been at it all day, and the repetition is oddly comforting. I want to keep my mind occupied, and this task gives me something to focus on besides my imploding life. I grab another box and place it near the growing donation pile of items, loading it piece by piece, just as I did before. The task is mundane, but it keeps my hands busy while my thoughts threaten to spiral underneath the calm façade.
“I’m going to take a gap year!” I yell, as I lift the box and stack it with the others. The lie slips from my lips with practicedprecision. I had rehearsed what I was going to say to Vic ever since we got the call to come in and discuss my mother’s biopsy results. I already knew what they were going to say. Something in the nurse’s voice implied that the news would not be good.
I think back to that day when I received my college acceptance letter. It was a kick straight to my heart. There was no rush of joy or breathless moment of excitement after realization set in. My broken heart wanted to hope, but to continue would be delusional.
Honestly, I didn’t expect to get into Dartmouth. I knew Victor would, and that's what makes this harder to accept. It’s like the universe lined this up perfectly to be a little bitch. I hang my head a bit lower, trying to calm my breathing at life’s cruel joke and bitter fuck you because it wasn’t just a school acceptance letter. It was the future Vic and I used to whisper about in the quiet hours of the night, wrapped around each other as the moonlight filtered through the windows, spilling onto the floor. We’d lie there staring up at the stars, making wishes like they’d come true if we just believed enough. Just a short time ago, when everything felt possible. I blink hard to fight the tears that threaten to fall. Now, nothing is possible with my mom’s diagnosis and Vic leaving me.
I stand and repeat the motion of sealing the box and placing it alongside the others. I walk over to a stack of pictures and pick up the ones of us that we set in frames months ago, holding them close to get a better look. This one is my favorite. I touch the frame like a lover’s caress. In the picture, I’m holding the phone out at arm’s length, grinning like a fool, while Vic is looking at me instead of the camera. I didn’t notice it back then, but now, staring at the image, I see it. The way he looks at me, as if I’m the only one that exists, as if he wants to devour me whole. I touch the frame, trying to hold onto that memory so that when he isgone, I will remember that exact moment, when he only had eyes for me.
I close mine briefly, savoring the moment before folding the picture in bubble wrap and placing it in my tote bag. “I’m keeping this one,” I mutter under my breath to myself as I continue to glance around at the others, recalling the times when the pictures were taken, and the memories come flooding back.
I sigh. He knows everything about me, and I know everything about him. We were each other’s only friends. I rarely had any female companionship, and Vic never had any friends because he was fearful that they would learn of his homelife and later, his mom’s death. There were already whispers at school regarding the events of that night, but we chose to ignore them all.
After “the incident,” we broke off any contact with our peers. We existed in our own closed, self-absorbed universe, with Dani and Vic at the center, and everything else orbiting around us in irrelevance. Vic never so much as looked at other girls, even when they tried to flirt with him shamelessly. They could never have what we have, so I never worried. I wrap the last of the pictures in tissue this time, my fingers lingering over them before setting them in another box, labeling itpictures of us. I set this box apart from all the others. He’s going away to college, so maybe I should hold onto these until we meet again.
After some internal debate, I set the pictures aside and decide to keep them, so that I’ll have a memento of us and be able to look at them when the memory starts to fade. Then I can remind myself that what we had was real, even though I know that no one will ever look at me like that with the raw passion he did ever again.
I stand looking around at all the boxes. Most of the items are destined for shelters or the town's swap shop to be repurposed. I’m lifting yet another box, setting it down carefully. Rinse. Wash. Repeat. When I turn around, he is there watching me. Ididn’t even hear him come back to the room. How long has he been standing there?
I push a strand of hair from my face and prop a hand on my hip, refusing to look away from those cold, calculating eyes. “A gap year?” he questions. His arms are folded across his chest in a protective stance. His sculpted muscles are on display as I try not to think about how his arms feel when he holds me close.
I forgot he had asked me what my plans were. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly before returning his stare. “Are you planning to apply anywhere near me, Dani?” He watches my reaction. “You know, there are tons of schools near there, too, right?” I nod steadily. “And you should start looking soon.” He assumes I didn’t get into Dartmouth, but why would he? He doesn’t say anything else. He just waits.
“I’m going to focus on working as much as possible now to save up.” I pretend to pick at an invisible thread on my knitted halter top, trying to sound as casual as possible. Without warning, he closes the distance, like a predator stalking its prey, until his chest nearly presses against me. His hand comes to rest under my chin, gently tilting it upward to look at him—his eyes, black as obsidian, narrow, locking on mine. The faint slant at the edges makes his gaze twist into something sharper, pinning you in place with its intensity. He exudes power and demands attention, but to me, he’s just my Vic.
My mouth twitches, fighting the urge to laugh. He tilts his head. “Tell me you’re going to move near me,” he demands, but it comes out more like a plea. I sigh because we have had this conversation multiple times. Now that the time is drawing closer to his departure, he has become more insistent. Without looking away, I lift my arms and loop them around his neck, pulling him closer, so that there is barely any space between us.
“I promise you,” I say softly, “I’ll move near you.” He must feel the truth in my words because his body sags, releasing theworry with it, and when he pulls me back to look at me, his eyes soften, reminding me of the boy I fell in love with. “I love you, Vic,” I pull away from his stare, nuzzling closer, my cheek against his, “until I cease to exist.” He lets out a short laugh in relief, as if I’d say anything else.
“Now you’re speaking my love language, baby.” He brings his lips to mine, kissing me deeply, one hand around my waist as the other travels upward to grasp my breast, when a knock sounds at the door, breaking us apart from our lust-filled trance.
SEVEN
VIC
Iknow there is something she’s not telling me. I’ve read every emotion on her face for years. It’s there in the way her breath catches. I pull back to look her in the eye. Again, in the way she won’t meet mine. An intimate silence thickens around us, so I table the conversation for another time as I kiss her instead. And just as I am about to take this further, a knock sounds that couldn’t have come at a worse time. It's sound slicing through our perfect little bubble. I grit my teeth, and a pulse tics at my jaw as I hold back the thought of strangling whoever is at the door that dared to interrupt this moment between us.
“To be continued,” I state coolly, even as the heat prickles under my skin at the anger I keep at bay. She looks at me quizzically, almost innocently, as if she isn’t the one hiding something from me.
I pause, running a hand through my hair as I try to shake off this feeling. I feel her loss immediately, and I feel colder now, without her near, as I walk toward the door to answer it, just remembering about the appointment today.
“Realtor.” I toss the word to Dani without looking back. The door creaks as I pull it open, reminding me of the sound of myfather’s voice that always followed shouting my mother’s name. Although the man is no longer alive to threaten me daily, he still haunts my past.
A young man, not much older than us, stands at the entranceway, glancing around the house’s exterior, and abruptly turns around as the door swings open, as if he hadn’t expected me to answer it so quickly.
His eyes flicker into the dimly-lit interior of the house before returning to mine. “Hi,” he says, extending his hand. “Brandon Marx.” I look at his hand, unmoving for a second too long, before I finally shake it. His handshake is firm and confident, and something about his smile seems too polished. But I see it.
“Victor.” I take his hand, giving it a firm squeeze that comes with a warning, but if he notices, he doesn’t let on.
And right on cue, her voice causes my grip to tighten. Brandon doesn’t flinch. He nods, showing way too many white, polished teeth. “Come in,” I hear Dani say as Brandon notices her, releasing my hand, and walks in front of me. His hand is already outstretched to her, and I bet he has that fake smile already plastered to his face, too.
I close the door behind us slowly, trying to regain my composure. “Hi, Mrs. Flores?” he states it as a question, but it just grates on my last nerve because I know exactly why he asks. A low growl escapes before I can stop it, surprising even me as he holds onto her hand.
