Page 37
“So do you,” my mother says. “When was the last time you changed your bandage?”
I shrug. I honestly don’t remember. I barely remembered today’s Wednesday. It’s been five days. Everything has changed, but somehow time has stood still.
“They’ll be gone tomorrow. They won’t want to report on this Christmas Day.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas?” I glance around at the decorations and the large tree in the foyer stuffed with presents. “How can tomorrow be Christmas?”
“Come with me. Let’s get you fixed up. Magda’s preparing dinner for when your father and Jonathan return home.”
“Dad can’t represent him.”
“That’s not why he’s there. And he hasn’t asked for representation. It’s not that kind of interview.”
I don’t trust them. Any of them. “Where’s Gavin?”
“I think he’s at Collin’s. They’re coming over with Jane. We’ll all be together. That’s what’s most important.”
Warm hands grasp mine. “You’re shaking. This isn’t good for you either.”
“Jonathan needs me.” Tears drip from my lashes.
“And I need you here with me. Let me take care of you, please.” My mother wraps an arm around me like a protective wing and snuggles me beneath it. I let her guide me up the stairs. I let her care for me, so I can be strong enough to care for him.
I jolt awake with the echoes of screaming in my head. The room is nearly pitch black, the only sliver of light coming from beneath the door. It smells like a mix of flowery perfume and a spicy candle.
Rachel’s room.
She’s sound asleep beside me. Passed out, if I’m being honest. She asked me to lie down with her, telling me stories about her misadventures until she succumbed to her inebriation.
Rubbing the nightmare from my eyes, I know I should get back to my apartment, but I need a minute to clear my head before I can drive. The panic is still running through my veins, and reality needs to settle in.
I slip out of Rachel’s room with my shoes in my hand, easing the door shut behind me.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I notice Emma’s still on the couch where we found her when we crept in a few hours ago. The television’s on ESPN, running through highlights of basketball games.
I set a hand on her shoulder. “Emma, you should go up to bed,” I whisper. “Emma.”
“Yeah?” she responds but doesn’t actually rouse.
“It’s late,” I tell her. She slowly blinks to the surface. “Sorry to wake you, but I figured you’d be more comfortable in your bed.”
“What time is it?” she asks, squinting at the clock on the cable box.
“After two,” I inform her as she slowly rises to sit. I feel bad for waking her, considering she was actually sleeping. “You should go up to bed.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t make a move to get up from the couch. She gives me a quizzical look. “What are you doing up?”
“Needed to step away from a dream.”
“Wait, I thought you weren’t staying over this week.” She unwraps the blanket from her legs.
“I’m not,” I counter, except here I am. Although I am about to drive home. “I wasn’t supposed to. I had to drive her home; then she asked me not to leave her. I just…” I don’t know how to explain how I keep getting pulled in, no matter how many times I try to let go.
“You know she’s always going to ask you to stay."
“And that’s the reason I shouldn’t.”
I decide to explain myself to help her understand, at least what I’m willing for her to know. “I sent out applications to graduate schools, and the closest one is in DC.”
