“You’re awake.”
I nod slowly. I don’t want to talk to her. Don’t want to breathe, really. My head is cloudy. A part of me is glad.
“I’m sorry, Pookie,” she whispers. “Seriously, I... I’m sorry.”
She’s sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, watching me. Elbows resting on her knees. Head resting on her palms. She looks tired. I would be tired, too.
“Look, we can try to get it fixed. Or something. I set the cartridge thing out to dry out. So it might be alright. We’ll see.”
“It’s not about that.”
She sighs. “I know.”
I sit up with the usual difficulty, my arms dead and useless weight. “What time is it?”
She doesn’t look at her watch. “A little after six thirty. You weren’t asleep all that long.”
“Uh-huh.”
I chew on the inside of my lip, staring at the bedspread. “I... She was... I feel like an idiot.”
“I know.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“I know.”
“I really thought I was over it. Or whatever. It shouldn’t even be this big a deal.”
She half-smiles at me. “Trust me. I know. Your sense of personal tragedy is nothing new.”
“I know.”
“So what are we doing today? Are you ready to head home?”
I bite my lip. “Almost. There’s someone I need to talk to, first.”
Tuesday, December 2nd, 9:01 PM
“Nana?”
She turned around, wiping her hands on her apron. “Are you alright, dear? You look...”
“Poppy was in an accident.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh dear.”
“Her car flipped over. I... It burned, or something, I don’t really know...”
She stared at me for a long moment, then closed her eyes and massaged her temples with floury hands. “Oh dear.”
“She... She died.”
Her eyes opened, and she fixed me with a silent, solemn stare.
“Can I... I need to...”
She sighed deeply. “I have to make a phone call. Excuse me.”
She shoved past me. I stood there for a moment, leaning against the wall, staring through the kitchen window. It was grey and cold outside. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
It stared to hit me in pieces. The first one knocked my mind numb. A swift hit to the head. I didn’t know what was happening. I couldn’t think. A part of me, some part that could still feel, didn’t care. My throat was next. It tightened. I couldn’t swallow. Could barely breathe. My heart went crazy. Wild, for a moment, and then impossibly painful. My gut ached. I bent over from the weight of it all. And then it hit my knees. And I fell forward. Collapsed to the floor in the dining room. Not crying. Not praying. Just hurting. For Poppy. For Josephine. For myself.
I lay there for a year. Maybe more. The clock read it as mere minutes, but the clock lies. Time is, after all, somewhat relative. I aged in those minutes, those years, whatever they were. My forehead creased. I forgot things. And I rose a different person, though I wasn’t sure how.
I went off in search of Nana’s voice. Because I needed to be with someone. More than anything, I needed to be with her. I wanted to call her. I didn’t know who else to talk to. And sure, she would mock me, deride me, turn my grief into something laughable and trivial. But I was in love with her. Even her mockery would have been suitable comfort. But she wasn’t here. She never would be. So someone else, anyone else, would have to do.
Nana sat on her bed in the room she had shared with my grandfather. His pictures still littered the dresser; his cologne sat on the corner of the nightstand. The parts of him she couldn’t bear to throw away. She turned and looked at me, long and despairing, then patted the bed next to her.
I sat. Not leaning against her, not even touching. Her hands sat, folded and prim, in her lap. I rested my chin on my closed fist. I was so damn tired, suddenly. The kind of tired that takes hold in an instant and lasts for the rest of your life.
“There’s someone coming,” she said quietly, after we had sat and stared until there were no thoughts left to get lost in. “I’ll explain it to you later... But you should be here.”
I nodded. I had nowhere to go, really. Not down to a crash site to mourn the wreckage. It would have just seemed ridiculous, and hollow besides. Not out to some water tower, some worthless water tower, to hold vigil with people who’d barely known her and wonder whether to count myself among them.
She got up eventually and left me alone. I didn’t move.
I was in love with her. I knew for sure, then. Those jumbled up nerves, the feeling of completeness when she was there and a certain brokenness when she was not, the fruitless but powerful urge to grab her and kiss her will the full force of the energy she instilled in me. It had been love. She had made me feel invincible. And it’s hard to heed warnings when you feel like nothing can destroy you. I was tumbling through life in a lovesick haze. So I had ignored her, when she’d begged me not to fall in love with her. And I had faced the train head-on. Laughing. Not caring if it caught me.
And now I was alone. Forgotten by the tracks. Life without her seemed impossible. She was my life. We walked to school in the mornings, had all our classes together, home together in the afternoons. We had sex almost daily, and even when we didn’t she was here, on my bed, doing Nana’s crossword puzzles. “Five letters for ‘ornery’.” “Poppy.” And my jokes were never funny, but she always laughed, and even when I was sure she didn’t mean it, I pretended that she did. She never went home until long after dark. Sometimes she didn’t go home at all. And I loved her. I lived her. She was so much a part of me. Even then, knowing that those lazy afternoons were far behind us, I didn’t know how to pull her away.
Saturday, December 27th, 11:11 AM
“Hi? Can I...” Her eyes meet mine. “Oh. Hi, Kennedy.”
Josephine squeezes my hand protectively, then releases it and offers it to Lia. “Hi. I’m Josephine. Kennedy’s sister.”
Lia nods, her eyes wide. “Yeah, sure. Twins, right?’ But her gaze is trained on me. What are you doing here?
“Can we come in?”
She closes her eyes for a moment and sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. It’s freezing out there.”
She ushers us inside, looking exhausted. As if my mere presence drains her. She leads us past an ornately furnished living room and down a flight of stairs. “Sorry. My brothers are home. They’re big on eavesdropping.”
Josephine pulls the door shut behind us and we descend into a large, well-lit basement. There are an elliptical machine and a treadmill in one corner, a bar in another, and a whole wall is dedicated to a monstrous television set. Once couch sits before it, permanently staring, while two others flank that one, glaring at one another. Lia perches on one of the latter, and gestures for us to sit opposite her.
We sit. Josephine shoots me worried glances out of the corner of her eye. Lia crosses her legs and tries to look demure. We collapse into an awkward silence.
“You came back,” Lia says finally, rolling the hem of her skirt between her fingers. “Why?”
“I need... I don’t know. Closure, I guess.”
She chews on her lip and stares at the ground. “She’s dead, Kennedy. I don’t know what else you want.”
“She... Look, I know I was bad to be around when it happened.”
“It happened less than a month ago.”
I sigh. “And then I was crazy, okay? I’m not always like that.”
“She wasn't who you thought she was.” She says it under her breath, talking to the floor, avoiding my eyes.
Josephine opens her mouth. I shake my head. It’s fine. She nods. I crack my knuckles one by one, choosing my words. “I was a jackass. I’m not going to pretend otherwise, Lia. You know I was. I know it, too. I said things... Look, I’m sorry. I am. I... I took a lot out on you. And you were... I mean, I know it was hard for you... Is hard for you, too.”
“It’s not about what you said to me.” She fixes me with a stare for the first time since I arrived. Her eyes dark and accusing.
“If you’re... I still believe that, Lia. I know you don’t, but... I do. I don’t think...”
“Because she sent you some text message?”
I sigh. “Because I know her. She was miserable. And she... You read the message she sent me.”
“Yeah. I did. Kennedy, you didn’t know her that well. I don’t know why you act like you did. You two were... She was different when she was around you. She’s not like that. She’s not miserable.”
“Not anymore.”
She looks for an instant like she’s about to cry, but she swallows it back and rolls her eyes. “Don’t pull that shit. Don’t.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
She sighs, biting her lip. “Look, she didn’t kill herself. She was... She sent me a message too, okay?”
“Right. What? ‘I’m going to get in an accident now. Make sure you realize that I am not killing myself.’ Right. I’m sure.”
Her jaw juts forward. “You know what? Fuck you.” Her eyes flash. And I have never seen her this angry. Not even when we first had this argument, and we had both ended up crying and furious, and I sprinted all the way home, just trying not to scream. Now, she stands up and yanks up the waistband of her jeans, storming back up the stairs.
Josephine looks at me. “What is this all about?”
“It’s... I... Just... I’ll tell you later.” I hear Lia stomping down the stairs, breathing hard, her face streaked with tears, her phone in hand. She punches a button and then throws it down on the couch beside me, wiping her eyes furiously with her hand.
I stare down at the phone, then back up at her. “What, am I supposed to read it?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Whatever you fucking please.”
And I know that something about this must be important, because before today, I have never seen her act this way. She’s mild-mannered. Quiet. Poppy’s exact opposite, in a lot of ways. She’s great with kids and animals. She always calls adults “sir” and “ma’am”. Even just before I left, when she looked at me with nothing but hatred and venom, she didn’t raise her voice. And now she stands above me, looking like she could take an axe to my head and not feel a single pang of conscience. I pick up the phone and read the message.
And then I read it again.
I check the date. The name. “She sent this to you?”
“Yes. She did.” Her voice shakes. All her anger evaporates suddenly, as if it were never there. She perches on the arm of the couch, reading over my shoulder. “God, Kennedy, I just...”
“Why didn’t you show me?”
“Because I was mad at you. Because by the time I found out that she’d had a chance to... I... You were already running around talking about how you were sure she had done it to herself. And I... I was so angry. I was so angry with you.”
I stare down at the phone. Reading, again and again. My hands trembling inside my casts. Josephine leans over. Reads it once. Fixes me with the saddest look I have ever seen.
“You knew?” I look up at Lia. “It... It just says ‘him’. You knew it was me?”
She closes her eyes. “You were all she could talk about. You... She wanted to tell you. She did. She waited for months, but she didn’t want to... She didn’t think you did, until you two started fighting about it, and then... She... She didn’t know how to approach it. She said every time you brought it up she wanted to say something, but she’d kept it up for so long, she didn’t know how.”
“She... Oh my god.” I drop the phone on the floor in front of me. Stare straight ahead. Disbelieving. Josephine reaches down and grabs the phone and hands it to Lia over my head, then lays her head on my shoulder.
“It was an accident, Kennedy. I... I’m sorry.”
I stare down at my knees, biting the inside of my lip. “God. I was... I...”
“We should go.” Josephine picks her head up and takes my arm, gently, pulling me up. “I... Thanks, Lia. I’ll take him home.”
Lia’s eyes are huge and red, shining with tears. “Jesus, Kennedy, I would have told you. I would have. But you thought you had it all figured out, and I... You... She was my best friend. I was miserable. I was... I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. It’s... I just...”
“I know.”
Josephine leads me up the stairs. Lia stares down at her phone. Silent. Reading it again and again. 6:21 PM -- three minutes after i love you. i’m sorry had crossed through the air into my inbox. Both from the same number. The same name. Hers: i just txtd him. i told him. i told him! rly! xD
Wednesday, December 3rd, 10:48 AM
“Ulysses, this is Felice.” Nana’s eyes were dark, clouded over with some intense, bitter worry.
I stared.
Felice stared back at me.
I knew, then. And she understood that I knew. No further introductions were necessary.
“I’ll go get the jewelry,” I mumbled. Nana nodded. Felice shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. Glancing nervously behind her. Her arms crossed over her chest. She swallowed hard.
I ran down the hallway and up the stairs to my room. Pulled open a dresser drawer. Pulled out a sweatshirt and held it over the bed by its hood, watching the jewelry tumble onto the bedspread. I hung the necklaces and bracelets around my wrist, piled the rings onto my right pinky. I walked back downstairs carefully. Each step somehow heavier, knowing what awaited me.
Felice stared at my outstretched arm, then over at Nana. “Oh, God,” she said softly. “Oh, Erma, she kept it. I didn’t think she would.”
“Of course she did.” My voice was harsher than I had expected. Stinging with bitterness. “She thought you were dead.”
“Ulysses,” Nana warned me.
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Felice covered her mouth, shaking her head slowly. “I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t... I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Take her with you!”
Nana held up her hand. “Ulysses.”
“I... It sound easy, it... I can’t even explain to you. How... I couldn’t...” She was sobbing openly by then. Big, ugly tears. “I wanted to come back for her. I kept telling myself that I would, but... And then she was older... Erma... I told Erma to look out for her. I...”
I dropped the jewelry on the table. Piece by piece. My eyes never leaving hers. She shook her head, sobbing. I bit my lip. “She thought he’d killed you. She... She thought he killed you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I just... The doctor came in and he... He told me he wasn’t going to send me home. That I should take Poppy and leave and... And I... I just couldn’t.”
“He thinks you’re dead? Tobias?”
She nodded, her hand trembling. “God, I just wanted to get away from him. I just wanted to get away from him. He never asked questions. They told him I had... Surgery... And...” She collapsed into tears again. My grandmother took a step toward her and clasped her shoulders.
I stared. I didn’t know what to think. They looked so much alike. It was like seeing a ghost. The bad dye-job hid nothing. They had the same eyes. The same slightly upturned nose. The same hands, with the long delicate fingers, pianists fingers. I could hardly look at her, and yet somehow, I could hardly look away.
“I was so in love with her. God, she was... She was so beautiful. And so smart. God, she was so smart. I didn’t... I wanted to take her everywhere with me. But I... I didn’t know where I was going... He’d never laid a finger on her... I thought she would be safe.” She paused, then gasped and began sobbing again, her whole body shaking with it. “I was so in love with her. I was sure she would be safe.” Her voice cracked. Nana tightened her grip on Felice’s shoulders. Fixed me with a warning glare.
I bit my lip. Stared down at the table. The shining gold. The things Poppy had made me promise to keep. And I knew then. What she would have wanted me, would have needed me, to do.
I stepped toward her slowly. She flinched, took a step back. I held out my hands. My arms outstretched. She bent over a little, toppling under the weight of her grief. She collapsed into my arms. We stood there, in the middle of my grandmother’s kitchen, gripping each other, holding on for dear life. We rocked back and forth. Nana stood to the side and watched us, her arms crossed, an incomprehensible look on her face. Felice sobbed into my chest, I into her hair. And somehow, in this embrace with a dead woman, I began to feel alive again.
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