Audrey yanks her ponytail loose and pushes her hands through her hair. “Great. Because tonight hasn’t been shitty enough.” She launches a look of disgust at Mati, then me. Its impact knocks the wind out of my lungs. She falls onto the couch and starts shoving things back into her bag, her hair hanging limply. She seems a thousand years older than she did when she left for her shift, tired and hopeless, and now she’s sniffling and even though I hate her for the way she’s treating Mati, I still want to hug her.
“I should go,” he murmurs.
“Good riddance,” Audrey mutters. I’m about to round on her, but then she sniffs again and I realize she’s crying legitimate tears.
Shit.
I walk Mati to the door. My heart’s hammering, a residual buzz from that kiss (God, that kiss) and from the shock of being caught, and chastised, and humiliated by the blatant ignorance of one of my favorite people.
Audrey’s tears… they always,alwaysget me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Mati.
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, then pulls the front door open. “We can talk later.”
“Soon,” I say, clinging to him. “I’ll call you.”
He nods, extracting his hand from mine with a sad, sad smile. And then he walks out, closing the door gently behind him.
I stay in the foyer for a few minutes, leaning on the wall, catching my breath. I listen to the gut-wrenching anthem of Audrey’s weeping, and then the quieter ballade of her attempting to compose herself. I hear her pad down the hall, the squeaky hinges of Janie’s door, the soft hum of Aud’s voice as she calms her daughter.
God, I’ve made a mess. I should’ve gotten her permission before inviting Mati. Introduced them officially, first. I should’ve kept my hands to myself because if she’d walked in on us talking, she might not have been so shocked. And Mati… he left with sorrowful eyes, his shoulders stooped with distress. I’m to blame.
Audrey appears in the foyer, eyes red, cheeks flushed. “Are you leaving?” she asks, but there’s no venom left in her voice. She sounds drained, like she doesn’t give a shit what I do.
“If you want me to.”
She shakes her head. “Come sit down.”
I follow her into the living room. She sinks onto the sofa, so I do, too, into the corner Mati vacated a few minutes ago. I can feel his lingering heat. I ask, “Is Janie okay?”
Audrey nods. “Just startled. She’s never woken up to yelling.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had him here while you were away.”
“You shouldn’t have had him here at all.”
“But…why?” I truly do not understand the prejudice she and my mom have against Mati. I mean, initially, maybe—I felt it, too, the sting of the word “Afghanistan,” the way it intensified every terrible second that’s passed since Nick died. But I got to know him, and my apprehension disappeared. Mom and Audrey don’t want to see how fantastic he is. They’re too scared—too narrow-minded—to care.
“Why?” Audrey asks, flabbergasted. “Because it’s too damn hard!”
“It wouldn’t be, if you’d give him a chance.”
“I don’t want to give him a chance, and you shouldn’t, either. He’s leaving, thank God, and then none of us will ever have to think about him again. We’ll be better off.”
I blink away the threat of tears. “Not me.”
Audrey shakes her head. “I saw the way you were kissing him—I saw the way you looked at him, like a lovesick puppy. You don’t even know him. It’s awful.”
“Iknowhim—I know everything I need to know. It’s you who’s awful, you and my mom.”
“Elise, Nickdiedbecause of those people!”
I shoot up off the sofa. Anger courses through me, making my mouth taste bitter. “Nickneverwould’ve treated one of my friends the way you just treated Mati. He’d be disgusted by the way you acted.”
She rears back, like I’ve slapped her, and guilt crashes into me.
“Aud—”
