“No—”
“And when you couldn’t breathe in the truck just now—is that what happy people do?”
I hung up, then silenced the phone so I wouldn’t hear it ring. Tossing it to the foot of the bed, I climbed under the covers.
The thing vibrated once, twice, three times, then stopped.
I turned off the light, rolled onto my side, and punched at the pillow.
When he tried again, the lit screen penetrated even my closed lids. Bolting up, I flipped it over to hide the light. Hiding. Yes, I was. And no, I wasn’t happy when I had to deal with the past.
But the past wouldn’t go away until I forced it to, I realized. So Isnatched up the phone, clicked in, and said a tired, “Leave it, Edward. I can’t deal.”
He didn’t speak, but I knew he was there. I could hear his breath, rapid but gradually slowing until I felt him beside me, like he used to always be. No, I hadn’t had many friends growing up, and while that changed as soon as I got to college and found people who shared my interests, it wasn’t until I met Edward that I’d felt complete.
It was a tapestry.Lifewas. A tapestry. Needlework had never been my medium, but the metaphor fit. Life was a bundle of loose threads, really just a flimsy canvas until a few, strong, basic cords were woven in. My parents had been two of those cords. Liam was one. Lily another. And Edward.
Quietly he said, “Neither can I. Deal, I mean. I’ve really botched up this whole thing. I’m sorry I said what I did after the accident. I’m sorry I thought that erasing this part of my life would work. I’m sorry I didn’t call you before I moved here, and I’m sorry I said what I did tonight in front of Kevin, but I’m not sorry for the words. I am sorry we’re talking on the phone right now, because I need to say those words again and keep saying them until they sink in. Christ, Mackenzie, you’re stubborn.”
“Damaged,” I breathed.
“I heard that, babe, and you aresowrong. What you are is human.”
I wanted to argue, but didn’t have the strength.
Or maybe I didn’t want to argue.
Maybe I wanted to believe what he said, because I kept the phone at my ear.
“And here’s something else,” he said. “I need to find a place for Lily in my life. I tried removing her. I mean, hell, she’s dead, right? Only I can’t just say goodbye and walk away. You can’t just wipe out someone you made. She’ll always be part of me.”
A thread in the tapestry, I was thinking, but he continued to speak.
“When you left, I packed up my pictures, all those ones that you made frames for—hell, even yourframeswere artistic. But I thought it’d beeasier to move on if I didn’t have to see them every day—you know, to see her—us—to see what I’d lost. So what I have now is a big hole where the best of the past used to be. What I have is a carton—cartons, plural—filled with photos that I want to put out but can’t.”
“You can.”
“Do you? I didn’t see any photos at your place, not downstairs, not in the bedroom.”
Pushing the covers aside, I slid from the bed to the floor, just far enough back to see the green velvet box underneath. I couldn’t actuallyseethat it was green or velvet or even a box. The night was too dark and the light from my phone too small. But I could have been blind, and I’d have known exactly where it lay. “It’s too painful for me.”
“And it isn’t for me? But how does a cut heal if you don’t give it air to scab over?”
The question hung for a minute before he said, “I want to put personal pictures in my office, only I can’t, because people might ask about Lily, and I’m not sure I can hold it together enough to explain. And then there are ones of you and Lily, and you and me, and the shot of just you that your friend Juan-Louis took right after we met—remember that one?”
I did. Oh, God. Edward hadadoredthat one. I had surprised him with it for our first anniversary. Lily was barely six months old, I was still carrying baby fat, still sleep-deprived, and I wanted him to remember me in better times. The vanity of that seemed ridiculous now, but it had been a lifetime ago.
Now, folding myself forward, I extended a hand, but couldn’t quite reach the box.
The voice in my ear said, “You have bangs and different eyes now, but the face is the same Mackenzie for anyone with half a brain to see, so I can’t take the risk, because you made me promise—”
“I get the point,” I said and straightened.
But he wasn’t done. “Do you? I want to be happy again, Maggie. I want to be whole. Is that too much to ask? Tragedies happen, but don’t we make them worse by dragging them on and on?”
“I can’t forget her.”
“Neither can I, that’s my point. I need to make a place for Lily in my life. I need to make a place for us. I want to be able to laugh without feeling guilty.”
