Held A New Adult Romance(55)

"...I know, I know. It's a terrible idea. He probably hates me anyway."

"You have no idea how a healthy relationship is supposed to work."

"Can't I learn?"

Dr. Stahl sighs. "Eventually. But your own mental health is the bedrock to you avoiding people like Justin in the future. That's what we need to work on before anything else."

"Okay," I say. "But I'm doing better. You must see I'm doing better. The panic attacks aren't so bad..."

She raises an eyebrow. Okay. Apart from that one time where I almost drove into a crash barrier and then kidnapped the security guard...

"I'm pleased you decided to call me, Amber," she says. "I think we do good work together. You've made a lot of progress, but remember not to try to run before you can walk. You've made some very big changes in your life recently - and it's natural to feel afraid or anxious from time to time." She rummages in her purse. "I'm going to give you my home number and I want you to call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Thank you. I'll do that."

When she's gone I feel weightless. Sometimes if Justin slept late I used to sneak out of the cabin and go down to the beach. I'd just float around naked in the ocean, feeling the tug of the tide and the ghost-house thrill of knowing I could die out here, that the deep blue sea could tear me forever from the devil of him.

That thought never scared me nearly as much as it ought to. The apartment looks wider than the sea, stretching out around me in all directions. And for a second I feel that kind of wild, lizard-brained panic that goes along with emptiness, especially when we have no idea how to begin to fill it. I can buy things - couches, television sets, rugs, lamps - but are they ever going to answer the bigger question of what my life is going to be now?

I hear the old elevator rumbling up the shaft and realize that it's coming to my floor.

Who else knows I'm here? Apart from my Dad?

It's like falling back in time. When I hear the door I picture red blood, white roses. You can't leave me, Amber. You're the only one who really knows me. I know you only hurt me because you love me, baby - each man kills the thing he loves, isn't that how it goes? Is that what went through your head when you killed him? Is that how it felt to you, you murdering fucking bitch?

If there was furniture to hide behind I'd be crouched behind the couch right now, but the apartment yawns around me. There's no other way out, other than off the roof. And he's dead. He's dead. He's not coming back. Ghosts aren't real. Don't be ridiculous.

I jerk the door open. Jaime is standing there - no blood, no flowers, just him. I'm so relieved to see him that I throw my arms around him, but I'm not relieved for long. He's stiff and polite, holding me like we're hugging at a funeral.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, close to panic. He's dressed in ordinary clothes - jeans and a t-shirt. He looks anxious and I have a leaden feeling in my stomach; I know he's about to reject me.

"Your father told me where to find you," he says. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

I wave my hand around the room. "Good. New apartment. You like it?"

His expression doesn't change. "We need to talk," he says.

Oh God. Here it comes. "Okay," I say, gesturing to the two folding chairs. They're the only furniture in the room, making it look like the set for some avant-garde play. "Sit down, please."

"How are you?" he asks, like we didn't fuck each other's brains out. I don't know if I can handle this - I've never been dumped before.

"I'm...good." I say, my heart beating out a mad tattoo against the inside of my ribs. "I...I missed you."

He swallows. He looks better than I remember and somehow that makes it worse. His eyes look black in the fading evening light, and they shine when he looks up at me. "When were you going to tell me he was dead, Amber?" he says.





Chapter Eighteen




Amber



I did two pregnancy tests, just to be sure.

They both came back positive. "I should call Justin," I said.

"Why?" said Everglade. "So you can tell him you're carrying his rape baby?"

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. All these years I'd been telling myself she was nothing like her mother, but this? This was the kind of thing Kiersten Rowe would say for effect - and she knew it. I told her so in no uncertain terms, but her Woman's Studies classes had stood her in fine stead.

"Bullshit," she said. "You consented to fuck him with a condom, correct? If he takes it off without you knowing or consenting then it's rape. For God's sake, Amber - don't you read the news? That Wikileaks guy is wanted for questioning in Sweden because he's supposed to have done the exact same thing."