My chest tightened, my stomach twisted, and grief combined with unwelcome nostalgia made me want to hurl. “What’s that?” I spoke through clenched teeth.
There was a tradition we had before Logan left. On both of our birthdays, after the parties our parents forced us to attend, Matthew would buy us some cheap box cake mix, and the three of us would make an absolute mess in the kitchen while bakingit. It was always hideous when it was finished, but it tasted better than the artisan cakes my parents spent thousands on.
We would all wear cheap party hats with strings that rubbed uncomfortably on our necks. Logan would even alter one for Celestine. And then he’d perform a birthday song like he was hoping to get a Grammy out of it, singing with all his heart until I’d shove cake in his mouth to make him stop.
Last year, Matthew had tried to make it with just the two of us, but I’d gotten upset and told him to leave. I thought that would be the end, but clearly it wasn’t.
“I thought this year you might like to—”
“I told you last year I didn’t want to do that anymore,” I interrupted.
“I know you miss your brother, Harper, but I thought—”
“You thought wrong, Matthew. Logan is gone. He doesn’t care about us anymore, and I don’t care about him. Stop clinging to those stupid traditions.”
“I’ve upset you. I’m very sorry.” Matthew dipped his head in apology.
“I’m not upset. I’m not anything. I’m just done. Logan isn’t coming back. The sooner you accept that and forget about him, the better.” I threw the words my father had used to hurt me at Matthew, and I regretted them when they landed. Matthew wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as I was.
“I understand. I’ll refrain from such traditions in the future.”
Before I could decide if I wanted to apologize or double down, Matthew had scooped up the box cake from the counter and was on his way out.
“If you change your mind, you only have to call. Happy birthday, Harper,” he said as the doors opened for him to leave.
I said nothing. I didn’t even move until the elevator doors closed, providing a much-needed barrier, and I was alone.
The invisible mask fell and shattered at my feet, and I broke along with it, free to let my feelings erupt now that there was no one here to witness them. Why did I still let it hurt me? Why did I still care so much about someone who didn’t even care enough to respond to my text?
I didn’t want to miss Logan anymore. I didn’t want to keep waiting for him. I didn’t want it to keep hurting like this.
When I’d let out enough of my emotions that I could push the rest back down deep inside me, I got to my feet again. I showered off the remnants of the evening and dressed in something more casual. The card Tristan had given me was too much to think about now, so I put it at the back of my desk drawer to consider later.
I still planned to meet with Archer, but right now there were only three living beings I wanted to be around—my snakes.
I cared for little as much as I cared for these snakes. While cleaners came in for my apartment, I trusted no one with their enclosures and handled all their care personally. They appreciated not being messed with constantly by strangers.
Celestine was coiled lazily, flicking her tongue in greeting as I checked her tank’s temperature and offered her fresh water. “How was your day, pretty girl?” I asked, running my fingertips over her bright yellow scales. Then I visited the others: Aurelia, my blizzard corn snake, small and delicate, always eager to be held; and Juliette, my Mexican black kingsnake, who preferred not to be handled, though she was always extra active when I had my hands in her enclosure, moving around with what I liked to believe was excitement as the heat lamp reflected off her iridescent black scales.
They calmed me more than anything else could. They trusted me, and I trusted them. I talked to Archer about a lot of things, but only when we met up in person, which was every couple of weeks at best. Text messages could be traced, no matter howencrypted. There were still things I couldn’t tell him, though. Things I’d probably never tell anyone. But I told my snakes. My secrets were safe with them.
I told them everything, because there was no one else.
three
Harper
IT'S NOT A GANG.
I knew it was reckless, the way I weaved through traffic on my Ducati Panigale V4 S, fast enough that nothing could keep up with me. Not the surveillance my dad put on me occasionally, or the police. Not my responsibilities, fears, or obligations. Not even Archer, try as he did.
One bad turn, one reckless driver, and I was going fast enough that it’d be over in an instant. I think that’s part of why I did it. Riding on the edge. And if I tipped, well, that was that. It wouldn’t be my problem to deal with.
Everyone had a vice, some nasty habit that brought them a little comfort. For my dad, it was alcohol. For my mom, it was pills. I didn’t understand for a long time, why they would do things that were bad for them. I understood it better now. Sometimes bad things made you feel better. Momentary numbness. For me, it was speed.
It was all I had, really. After seeing my father’s anger when he drank, I didn’t want to touch alcohol, and my mom was basically a zombie, wandering around that big house with no purpose, popping pills so she could barely think. I didn’t want to belike either of them. I also couldn’t turn to sex like my brother allegedly had. My dad was constantly reminding me we had to “protect our image,” and that we were always in the public eye. If I tried to hook up with the only type I was interested in—men—he’d find out right away.
It was a blessing when my dad gifted me my own apartment a few months ago, right in the center of Harborview. It was better for both of us to have the distance. I didn’t have to deal with his constant disappointment, and he didn’t have to be reminded of Logan every time he looked at me. It wasn’t my fault we looked so alike.
