Page 46

I sit on a bench watching the kids play. Their shrieks and laughter crack something inside of me open. I’ve been trapped in this ambivalent state for over a year. I imprisoned myself the moment I arrived in Connecticut.

I’ve been honest with Rachel; I can’t be there for anyone right now. But I haven’t been fair. Because if I can’t be the friend I offered to be, then I have no right to be in their lives at all. I’ve been trying to distance myself recently, to give us space. But that’s still a shit way to treat someone. I either need to step up and actually be a friend, or I need to get out of the way.

A jogger catches my eye. It’s Emma. She slows to a walk as she approaches me, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her fleece.

“Hey,” she says, her tone cautiously light. “It’s not bad out today. It’s not California, but it’s not bad.”

I nod. Still unable to shake this melancholy.

Emma sits next to me. We watch the kids tossing snow in the air and at each other. “My father didn’t like me very much. I wasn’t submissive like my mother. I didn’t worship him like my younger brother. I didn’t let him control me, so he’d do anything he could to break me. My life's been complicated, and I can't…” The words leave me as I try to explain why I need to step away from their world. It’s the right thing to do.

“I can’t do this. This… drama.” I release a lungful of air and face her. “I need my life to be simple. I need to know what’s coming, to be in control. I don’t handle the unexpected very well.”

“I understand.” And it sounds like she does. “So does that mean you're done? That you're leaving?"

"Why? You think I should?" Why do I need her permission to leave? Maybe because I need to know that she will be okay if I’m not around.

"I don't think I'm the person to tell you what to do. But I don't want her to hurt either.”

"Emma, I promise that I don't want to hurt you… I mean, her." I flinch in apology. "I don't want to hurt Rachel," I clarify, but maybe there’s a reason I said what I did the first time. "You believe me, right?" I search for understanding in her eyes. Permission. I need her to believe what I said—that I would never hurt her. "Right?"

She nods, focusing on her lap. “My aunt didn’t like me very much either. Actually, I’m pretty sure she hated me. I mean, you don’t strangle a person if you like them even a little, do you?”

I keep my face non-reactive. But my stomach drops.

“Wow, that was kind of a messed-up thing to say.” She attempts to downplay it with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, a little,” I reply, with an equally odd chuckle.

"I can't believe I just told you that. You'd think that I'd be over it by now. I mean, she's in jail. But I can't seem to let it go."

"Believe me, I understand. My father's been dead for years, and he still gets to me." Our smiles taper.

"I'm sorry," she says with sincerity.

“I’m not.”

Honesty is slippery. Hal Reeves has been dead to me since the day he stabbed me nearly five years ago. Truth has more power than I realized. I blow out a breath. “Wow, we’re depressing as hell, aren’t we?”

Emma laughs half-heartedly. “Pretty pathetic.”

“So, what are you up to today?”

“Well, I guess I’m going to finish this run,” she answers, standing up and stretching her hamstring—holding on to the back of the bench for balance. “Then… I don’t know. And you?”

“Exercise sounds good. Maybe I’ll go for a swim. Then, I guess I’ll be back over.”

"What are you going to do?" There’s concern in her voice.

“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “No more drama. Despite what happened, I don't freak that easily. I'm not going to break it off.” Officially anyway. Because we were never together. And a part of me really needs Emma to know that, despite my promise to Rachel. It’s not the first I’ve broken, or the most important.

The sun isn’t even up, and I’m in a bathing suit. A bathing suit that feels way too tight. I stretch the fabric around my butt, where it doesn’t want to stay. That’s what I get for ordering online.

“What are you waiting for?” Jonathan calls to me, arms propped on the cement slabs surrounding the outdoor pool. He’s already in the water.

“To be awake.” I walk closer with my towel wrapped around me. It’s too hot to be covered up. It’s too hot to think. Which is why we’re here.

My dorm doesn’t have air conditioning, and my roommate is a serious gamer who plays all night, and her PC gets hot. Almost as fiery as her mouth when things aren’t going well in her virtual world.