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Why hadn’t she reached out to me before the end?

Maybe she hadn’t known it was the end. Maybe she’d just kept telling herself that she’d get better. Maybe she had to believe that, and who knows? Maybe believing that extended her life days or weeks or months.

I don’t know.

I thought my theory was right, because the manuscript didn’t end.

She wrote a few more entries after that one.

One was a long memory of prom, our junior year—because our senior year I had bond sickness, and she didn’t have a date, and we all stayed home—and how we got together at her house, how we did each other’s hair and makeup and helped each other into our dresses.

How it was just us with our dads, no mothers around, because hers was dead and mine had sort of washed her hands of me, and how we had mothered each other, in our way, how we had been girls together, just girls, just friends, just…

That one made me cry, too, actually.

But then, it was just over, and she didn’t have anything else to write.

It was late.

It was near two in the morning. I called Vincent anyway.

“Leo?” He answered, worried. “Are you okay? Do you need something?”

“Did I wake you?” My voice was still full of tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“I finished Opal’s manifesto,” I said.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, it got to me, too.”

We were both quiet for a few minutes.

I wiped at my eyes. “I don’t know why I called you.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“But is it?” I said. “Since you have to be there for Damian and everything?” I was bitter.

He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry he put me in that position, and I’m sorry I didn’t think of a way out of it faster. He wanted me to choose, and he knew I would choose him.”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s your brother.” But I was still bitter.

Vincent was quiet.

“I need to hang up,” I said. “I called because…” Why had I called him? “Because I miss her, I think, and I wanted someone to talk to who would remember her, who would miss her, too.”

“I miss her,” said Vincent softly. “But I miss you more.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“He didn’t do it because he wanted to hurt me,” said Vincent.

“Are you sure about that?” I muttered.

“No,” said Vincent. “I’m not sure. We did hurt him, though, Leo. You have to recognize that us being together, it’s not like a regular relationship.”

“He hurt me,” I said. “He hurt you. It’s like you always say, he takes things for granted.”