Sweet Nothing(12)
“I like it.” I do. And it makes me want to cry. I squeeze his hand back, three times. Neither of us pulls away until Luke’s phone buzzes in his pocket.
He checks the screen. “I’m really, really sorry,” he says earnestly. “I don’t usually do this, but I have to take this call.”
“Go ahead.” I lean back, grateful for the interruption.
Luke swipes the screen of his cell with his thumb. “Hey. Everything okay? Is she—now? Okay. I’m on my way.”
“I’m really sorry, Elle. I’ve got to take care of something.” He’s all business now, a quick mood shift. “But I’ll drop you by campus so you won’t be late for your training, okay?” He fishes a wad of bills from his pocket and tosses them on the table.
“I—is everything okay?” The energy between us is suddenly gone. Evaporated. I don’t want to pry, but he suddenly seems so different that I’m curious. It’s more that that. I want him to trust me. Ironic, coming from me.
“It will be,” he nods. But his lips are set in a grim line. “Again, I’m really—”
“Don’t be. You don’t owe me an explanation. Really.” And I mean it. As we leave the restaurant, I remind myself that one connected moment doesn’t change what I have to do here. I have to keep my guard up, have to carefully maintain the wall between me and the rest of the world. Because I know that the tiniest crack in my façade could cause everything to come tumbling down. Again.
chapter five
Elle,
I got your note this morning. Correction: first, Mom got your note. By the time it got to me, it was totally obvious that she’d resealed the envelope. Unless you dipped it in D&G perfume and vodka before you popped it the mail, just for funsies. I can’t believe you wrote me an actual letter! Old school.
I actually think the fact that she read your letter is a good sign. She misses you, you know? I think if you called, she’d forgive you. Not that I’m taking sides. I’m not taking sides. I just…it’s hard here without you sometimes.
Love you for infinity,
A
Sleep eludes me that night. Real sleep, anyway. I must doze off for a few minutes here and there, because I keep having nightmares about my mother. I see her hunched over in the courtroom, Aria patting Mom’s shaking shoulders as the verdict is read. I see her standing in my classroom at Allford, lecturing my students. Her voice dripping with icy hatred.
Elliot Sloane is responsible for the downfall of our family. Her father will die in prison because of her. She is no longer welcome in my home. She is no longer my daughter.
The room is silent, except for the even step of a man striding from the back of the room to the door. It’s Luke. His eyes find me, and he shakes his head. I know instantly that he believes my mother’s words. He believes that I’m a monster. He leaves the room without a word and slams the door.
I gasp and bolt upright, my chest heaving. My body is slick with sweat, and my heart feels like it’s going to surge out of my chest.
I fumble for the light, switch it on, and whip the damp sheets from my bed. The floor is cool on the soles of my feet. I gulp the mason jar of iced cucumber water Gwen brought to my room before bed. Something to soothe your first day of school jitters, she’d said. We all have them.
At the time, I’d just accepted the kind gesture, silently dismissing the notion that I was nervous. In the car on the way from New York, I’d told myself more than once that this gig was no big deal. If I could score an acceptance letter from one of the top business schools in the country, teaching a basic economics course to high school students would be simple.
But it’s possible that anxiety about my first job has crept into the back of my mind. Or maybe it’s my lunch with Luke that’s left me so unsettled. It’s none of my business, but I’m dying to know why he had to leave so quickly. Is she okay? he’d asked. Worried about a girlfriend? Another faculty member, or a student? Not that it matters.
I hold the chilled mason jar to my forehead, then against the back of my neck, my heart finally starting to slow. Flop onto my back again and stare at the blank white ceiling. It’s not like Luke owes me an explanation. It’s just that I’d felt so connected to him as he’d talked about his parents. Almost literally, like there was some sort of taut emotional wire strung between us. For once, I’d felt like someone understood loss the way I did. Which meant someone understood the deepest, most painful part of me. It had made me feel less alone. And then, the wire had just… snapped, leaving me feeling even more untethered than before.