Lizzie follows me as I amble to the kitchen and swallow hard against every wrong decision I’ve made. Alec’s constant calling is a soundtrack to my bad choices. I bend to my jacket, stroke its sleeve. When Cee Lo calls to me so close, I jump. As if the phone discharged an electric shock. Under my skin, scorching my bones. I pull out the phone, my thumb hovering over the irony of the word “accept.”
I press.
“Zephyr? Is that you? Are you all right?”
The immediate push of his concern startles me but I gather purchase. “N-no. Not even close.”
“What can I do? I never meant for that to happen, you just made me so jealous. See me. Let me apologize in person. Please, Zephyr.”
“Alec.” A beat. A slice in time. “This is over.”
“Don’t say that. I love you, Zephyr. Can’t you see that’s why this happened in the first place? Don’t do this to me. To us.”
I take a deep breath, stand. Steel my nerves. “There is no us.”
“Forgive me.”
A shudder mangles me.
“Give me another chance. Things can be perfect again.”
Things were never perfect.
“It is so too late for that.” I lean against the door, begging it for strength.
“Zephyr, don’t do this.”
My mind bends to the day on the swing set and then to the park. His car in the woods. The past. I press my thumb hard into the bump on my skull and a lightning bolt scorches, reminding me of the now.
“Don’t come near me again.” I flick off the call and there’s an unyielding pain in my chest that has nothing to do with my bruised ribs.
A second later, Cee Lo. Lizzie grabs the phone from my hand, mutes the ring. “I was thinking you should come over to my place. Get your shit together before school tomorrow.”
School? Tomorrow? Monday.
“You’ll be safe there. Besides, I don’t think you’re ready to face your mom.”
“Oh shit, my mom.”
“I texted her from your phone last night. Everything’s cool. She’ll be back tonight around dinner.”
She returns my phone and I see the seventeen missed calls. Seventeen voice mails. All from Alec. I block his number, delete the thread of our texts. It’s not much, but it’s a start.
“Get dressed. Eat something if you can. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
I don’t ask whether she’s talking about the dishes from this morning or the chaos of last night. What I do know is that it’s not her disaster to clean up.
“I need to stay here.”
“Alone? No way. You were a mess when I got here and there is no way I’m leaving you alone so he can come over here and finish what he started.”
“He won’t, Lizzie.”
She spurts disbelief. “How can you say that?”
“I know him. He flipped last night because of Gregg and the wedding, but he won’t come back.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“You can’t stay with me forever.”
“We’re not talking about forever, Zee; we’re talking about the day after your ex went psycho on you.”
I peel my back from the brace of the wall. “I need some time alone. To figure shit out, get my head straight for tomorrow morning when Olivia and I call Boston College. I can’t focus on anything else, Lizzie. I can’t fuck this up again.”
“Shit, Zee. That’s tomorrow? Could it be worse timing?”
“No, it’s perfect. It’s exactly what I need. I need to move on. Put this behind me. Trust me.”
She finally concedes. “But I’m calling every hour to check on you. Maybe every half hour.”
“Deal.”
Lizzie moves to hug me, wrapping her arms gently over me. She is careful with me, and not only because of my external bruises. “I love you, Zee.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for letting you down.”
“Never apologize. None of this is on you.”
As Lizzie leaves, she tells me, “Keep your door locked.” I do. I bolt the door and humiliation’s undertow drags me down. I slink against the wall and lower my core until my bottom connects with the floor.
I curl my knees up and hold them close, the position bringing comfort. And that’s when the scene plays out. Me and Alec. Just a few feet away, in the opposite corner of the kitchen. Alec branding me a whore. His elbow jammed into my head. His shoe splitting my ribs. Him begging for forgiveness.
And before. How he loved me.
Cooked for me.
Brought me my acceptance letter like a gift.
Held me closer than I thought one person could wrap another.
Chapter 37
Mom and I sit at the island the next morning linked by a suspended hope. Me, too aware of my hidden bruises, determined to move beyond all my mistakes. Mom with her need to protect me, fix what went wrong—the parts she knows about, anyway. I want this second chance with Boston College so badly it hurts more than my physical wounds. We listen to the clock tick and neither of us talks about the wedding or Dad or anything other than this goal before us. And when it is five minutes past nine o’clock, Mom picks up the phone, dials the number printed at the top of my acceptance letter.