I want to scream, but it’s like I’m trapped in a nightmare, my mouth yawning wide but no sound coming out. And this is a nightmare. The worst nightmare. I collapse back, and I look at her unmoving face, and I do scream this time, not caring who might hear me. Because my world has ended. There is no surviving this. My whole heart has been carved from my chest and left on the floor.
And I know I need to move, but I don’t know how to move, don’t know where to go. The only person who might have helped is our mother.
Our mother.
My god.
And in an attempt to look at something other than my sister, my eyes find their way to George. My mind flashes to plastic tarp stashed in the flat, the saw in the shed, the burial spots I’ve marked out.
I’m not thinking clearly but think maybe I should deal with him. That everything will be easier after that.
With legs so shaky I don’t know if they’ll support me, I struggle to my feet. I take two steps, collapse, heave, shake, scream.
There’s nothing smart about trying to hide what’s happened here. After all, if by some miracle I rid myself of George’s corpse, what am I going to do with Claire?
Nausea overwhelms me. Vomit, acid and sour, races up my throat. Slips through fingers, a hand clamped to my mouth. Splatters against cream tiles.
48
Now
It’s started to rain outside, the pitter-patter of droplets on the window preoccupying my thoughts so I don’t have to think of anything else. Anything else is too painful.
“Is that a relief?” Dimple asks. “Facing what happened?”
I give her a sidelong look while I try to swallow the torrent of pain and regret threatening to turn to tears. “Was it ethical? Speaking with my mother?”
“I hope I can assure you that I didn’t seek her out. In fact, I have been doing my best to evade her. She’s persistent.”
I can give her that much. “She is.”
“Would I be correct in assuming that your distance with your mother since ‘the Big Fallout’ is born of her refusal to entertain the fantasy that your sister is still alive?”
“There are many reasons for the distance between me and my mother,” I say with a mouth full of acid. “But, yes. You’ll have to forgive me if I want to avoid recurrent calls to berate me for my sister’s death.”
“It must have taken quite a toll to lose them both at once.”
I try to shrug around the dart of truth in what she says. It will hurt too much if it finds its target. “I needed a clean start after Claire died. It meant leaving a lot of people behind, but it meant she got to keep living in a sense. Got to finish drama school. Got to go chase her dreams. Got to see me go to therapy, work on myself. Got to see me fall in love, get married. Got to live her life uninterrupted.”
“And the conversations you’ve been having with your sister…Do you want to tell me a bit about those?”
I feel embarrassed. Protective over them, somehow. “I, um…I downloaded one of those apps. Fed all of our text history into it. Voice notes, too. And I…I spent a few weeks writing up Claire’s life story. Just the headlines, you know. I fed it all in and…” My voice breaks. More embarrassment. “And then Claire’s voice came back out. It’s…” I stop, grab some strategically placed tissues, and continue. “I know it’s not her. But it feels like her, and it sounds like her, and that was good enough for me.”
Dimple says nothing, but her eyes implore me to continue.
“It was just to say sorry at first. To apologize and hear her say she forgives me. But then the reply came through, and…I just…Suddenly, I didn’t have to let her go.”
She nods like she understands. How can she possibly understand?
“Dimple, I…I don’t think I can do this.”
I’m embarrassed and heartbroken. This feels like a version of Claire dying all over again.
“We’re making great progress. I’d really encourage you to stay.”
But all I can see is my sister’s dead face. The life taken out of it. A waxy doll. I haven’t allowed myself to see it since that day, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever unsee it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. And then I’m out of my seat before she can stop me. Dimple moves more rapidly than I’ve ever seen her, voiceimploring me to stay as she pursues me through reception, eventually giving up the chase.
