You shut your eyes then. Eye contact felt impossible. You willed yourself to disappear from the booth, but it didn’t happen. Disassociation never seemed to kick in when you wanted it to.
“Case,” she said.
“Yes,” you said.
“Yes as in it has something to do with Sean?”
“Yes,” you said again.
“Okay. And does it have to do with a girl?”
You didn’t answer. But at this point you didn’t really have to because you felt a tear sliding down your cheek. Which was the worst because you cried a lot when you were a kid and it was Sean himself who said it was okay. You were playing baseball at the park with the older kids, and you got hit in the thigh with a hardball. For a moment, you thought your leg was broken. The pain was unimaginable. His friends laughed at you—they were in junior high and basically sociopaths—but he made sure you were okay, and he said you could cry if you wanted. “It gets the hurt out,” he said. Why was he so nice to you? And why was he so not-nice to the person in front of you?
“Does it have to do with the girl on his phone?”
You didn’t think.
“Maybe one named Echo?”
You didn’t speak.
But you thought of all his lies to Diana.
And you nodded.
Then you waited for the inevitable tears. Or the drunken anger. You waited for her to lash out and shoot the messenger. But when you turned back, you saw a completely blank expression. She wasn’t going to have a meltdown. She didn’t even seem shocked. It was simply a confirmation of everything she already knew. She had been waiting for this, and now it was here. But maybe that was a bigger disappointment, to have the world confirmed in its predictable ugliness.
Geoff walked past, and she reached out and touched him on the shoulder.
“Geoffrey,” she said. “I’m sorry, my man. But I’m gonna need this short stack to go.”
“No problem,” he said, and grabbed the plate to box it up.
There was silence then for a moment or two. But eventually, she stood up and put her jacket back on. Her little bottle of booze fell out of her pocket and clanked against the table as she fumbled with the snaps. She left it there. Then she looked around at the restaurant, like maybe she’d just fully realized where she was. She pulled something out of her pocket, and you saw it was a bus transfer. You’d never even thought about how she got here. But of course; you had the car. She’d taken the bus all the way here just to see you.
“Diana,” you said. “Please don’t go right now.”
“I’m not really in the mood to talk anymore tonight,” she said.
Her voice was so quiet, you could barely hear it. You took out your car keys and set them on the table.
“I can give you a ride…”
Geoff brought out the box and handed it to Diana. She pulled her wallet out and threw a twenty down on the table. Then she was gone, walking off through the restaurant, the eyes of all the regulars on her. Even the claw machine guy interrupted his twentieth try for a prize and watched her go, flinching when the glass door rattled in its frame.
Geoff came by and just stared at the twenty. For some reason, he didn’t even pick it up. So it just sat there, and it was still there when you walked out of the place for the last time.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Does anyone have a secret stash?” Diana asks now.
It’s the first time anyone’s spoken in minutes. After a rush of excitement for tracking down Silas, no one seems to be moving much. It feels like to get up and start going would be to admit what you all now know: There is no game. This is not part of the therapy. It’s not a zany series of obstacles to overcome on a reality show. There is only the five of you, the indifferent wilderness, and your brains.
“Food?” says Troy.
“Pills,” she says.
Will gets up and starts pacing again.
