“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, trying to change the subject. He won’t look at me. I’m a monster. I just outed him without even thinking. I of all people should know how that would feel.
Raven blinks, eyes misting. She turns back to me, as if looking for the truth, and I sense her pain as my own. I never meant to hurt anyone, but I try to explain.
“You were off with Aspen,” I tell her, “and Dorian and I wanted to test the boundaries of his magic.”
“So whatwedid that one night…” She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “Did it mean nothing at all?”
Dorian stares at both of us—now it’s his face that’s flushed red. “You and Raven…you guys?”
Now I feel likeI’mtrapped in a cage. No way out.
Raven’s still waiting for me to answer her, so I do. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it, so I didn’t. You seemed perfectly happy with Aspen.”
“That’s not fair,” says Raven. “You made that very clear. You didn’t want to be with me. Aspen does. Don’t use that against me.”
Dorian finally interjects, raising a placating hand between us. “Please, stop. We’re all figuring things out. We’re still friends. The three of us—friends. Always, right?”
But Raven looks stony. “Not sure what kind of friend would use us like that.”
“That’s not fair,” I say, my voice wobbling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—”
“Well, you did. Whether you meant to or not.”
I look to Dorian but find no sanctuary. He’s picking at the edges of his gloves, and doesn’t look either of us in the eye.
In trying to have them both, I’ve lost them both.
Outside, the storm rages. The rain comes down in sheets, coating the window.
I want to sink into the cafe booth and vanish. I don’t deserve friends. Maybe I deservethis,this air of hurt and betrayal.
“Right.” I nod. “Then I guess this is it, then. Have a safe trip home.”
Without another word, I walk out of the Acroteria, and no one stops me as I wade into the freezing rain, never once looking back.
30
Raven
Of course I was under the spell, and the wonderful part is that, even at the time, I perfectly knew I was. But I gave myself up to it; it was an antidote to any pain, and I had more pains than one.
—Henry James,The Turn of the Screw
Drops of rainpelt the gray pavement as I climb the stairs to the apartment door, thinking only of Atticus, hoping I’ll find him waiting for me inside. When I come in, the wind rattles the windows, making the building creak and groan. The room is dark and cold. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles. It’s unusual, an autumn thunderstorm in Vermont.
I shake off the rain, but I’m already chilled to the bone.
“Atticus, can we talk?” I call into the apartment.
Nothing, no sound, no one answers back.
He’s not here. I can’t apologize. I said such hurtful things, and meant none of it, not completely. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was angry, and hurt, and I lashed out. When I rushed after him, I lost him in the storm. I thought he was going home. Now I’m alone, and filled with regret. I hadn’t meant to snap at Atticus. Not really. I was just jealous, thinking of him and Dorian together.
Shivering, I light a fire, put on the kettle, shower quickly to wash off the grime from the tunnels. I keep expecting Atticus to walk into the apartment, but he doesn’t. So I wait. I drink tea and stare out the window, hoping to see him coming down the street, hunched over in the blustering wind. I promise myself thatwhen he walks through this door, we’ll figure out what to do next together. Like we always do. Maybe I’ll take him to Paris with me.
When there’s a knock at the door, I almost trip over the coffee table in my haste to answer. The second I fling it open, an apology dies on my lips.
Aspen, standing under an umbrella.
