Page 31

Where are you, man?”

“You don’t want to know.” I lean back against the couch and shoot a glance up the stairs.

“You still coming?”

“Don’t think so.” And the reason isn’t the person suffering from the flu. It’s the girl in the room across from her with the same vacancy in her eyes that I’ve seen in my reflection all my life. The hollow, haunted look of someone with secrets so dark, the only place they surface is in our sleep.

Something happened to Emma. Something she can’t run away from, but she doesn’t know how to defend herself against.

Neither do I.

Rachel and I made plans with people from my office for the Super Bowl. I haven’t been home since I arrived two nights ago for a movie. This house hasn’t let me go, and it won’t let me sleep. I keep thinking about Emma screaming herself awake that first night. Rachel was so desensitized. I don’t know how anyone gets used to those screams of terror.

What happened to you, Emma?

Emma just moved back in with Rachel after being apart for five years. It doesn’t sound like they were in each other’s lives during that time, from the stories Rachel recounts about all her travels and mishaps over the years. None of them include Emma. They feel like strangers when they’re in the same room together.

Whatever they’re going through right now is still new. And whatever occurred while they were apart is still too painful to talk about, according to Rachel. Their history is full of regret and loss. I understand what loss can do to a person—how being forced to let go of the love of your life can make it impossible to care for anyone else. I don’t feel like I should be here. I’m not in a place to support either of them or help them find their way back to each other.

A part of me knows the truth, but I can’t bring myself to go there. This was supposed to be a distraction; I’m already more invested than I should be. Than is healthy. Their pain shouldn’t be what distracts me from my own.

The door creaks with a high-pitched whine when I push it open. Rachel rolls over, squinting up at me when I approach her.

“How are you doing?” I ask. “Emma’s at the store. I can ask her to get you something.”

She shakes her head. “You’re still here.” She says this like she’s relieved. Like seeing her sick and miserable would make me run.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone while Emma’s gone,” I tell her.

She reaches for my hand, and I take hers. It’s hot and clammy. Her eyes are shiny with fever, and she’s shivering. I pull up the blanket, not sure if this will help or not. I wish I could do something more to help her. But I’ve never done this before.

“Will you stay?” she rasps. “I feel better knowing you’re here. I don’t want Emily to have to do this all by herself. I feel bad for asking, but—”

“I’ll stay,” I assure her.

“Thank you.” Her eyes are glassy with fever, but there’s sincerity there, too. “I know it’s probably weird being here, with a teenager. I don’t know how to care for her like he did. He loved her so much. More than me. I miss him. My heart hurts so bad, every day. And she reminds me…” She tapers off, blinking heavily.

“Get some rest. We’re both here. Whatever you need.”

I’ve been privy to Rachel’s random stories both sober and intoxicated. She rambles and changes the subject, one thought triggering another, creating a web that’s often indistinguishable. I follow along… sometimes.

This is the first time since our night of darts and beers that she’s been this vulnerable. Honest. Even though I understood only about half of it, I know she hurts. And that I’m probably more comfortable being around Emma than she is.

Her loss reminds me of how raw mine still feels. The edges too jagged to stitch shut. So when Emma returns from getting food for the game, I don’t stay. Not the entire time anyway. I need a moment to connect with my life and readjust my priorities. I get a haircut. Go to the gym. Take a beat to remind myself there’s a world outside of Decatur Street. And Hollis.

I’m getting sucked in. I can feel it. And it’s not just Rachel. It’s Emma too. I want to know that she’ll be alright. Even though there’s nothing I can do to protect her from her past. Not when mine is still showing up to haunt me.

I can’t be depended upon. Needed. I have to be able to detach and leave. The last thing I want is for someone else to get hurt.

More hurt.

When I return, the game has already started.

“I bought beer. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Uh, no,” Emma replies. “It’s football. Isn’t that part of the guys’ book of conduct? That a beer must be in your hand while watching?”

I laugh, surprised she referenced a gender stereotype, considering she’s just as into sports as I am. “Do you want one? I could overlook the fact that you’re a girl for the night.”