Текст книги "Lying Out Loud"
Автор книги: Kody Keplinger
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Chapter 25
“What are you thinking about?” I asked Ryder.
It was another day when his mother wouldn’t be home until the evening (we’d checked this time), which meant we were at his house, in his room, on his bed. Only Ryder didn’t seem entirely there. Like he was preoccupied with something besides feeling me up.
“Amy,” he said.
I frowned down at him. “Okay. Not the answer I was hoping for.”
He shook his head. “Not like that,” he said. “Obviously. I just feel like I should apologize to her.”
“For …?”
“This.” He gestured between us. “I’m not exactly her biggest fan anymore, but we did have something going on between us for a while. It must be weird that I’m now dating her best friend.”
“It’s not,” I assured him. “She’s totally fine with it.”
Which was mostly true. Amy knew that Ryder and I had been seeing each other for the past month, and she was totally supportive. Happy for me, even. She just thought Ryder was more informed than he really was. And of course, she had no idea that he now considered her to be one of the rudest, flakiest people on the planet. You know. Small details.
So far, I hadn’t had to do much work to keep the truth from coming out. It wasn’t as if Ryder and Amy hung out ever. And with the way Ryder felt about Amy now, I didn’t think it would be too hard to keep them separated until graduation in May.
But Ryder and his damn conscience were going to ruin everything.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I just … I don’t want to be like my dad, you know?”
“How can you even say that?” I asked.
“You heard my mom the other day. Cross DNA.”
“Are you serious? Ryder, you didn’t cheat on Amy. You two never even kissed. I know you guys had a virtual connection …” Believe me, I knew all too well. “But, like you told me, there wasn’t really anything there. She knows that. You’re not like your dad.”
“I hope not,” he said, burying his hands in my curls as he leaned up to kiss me.
“But … speaking of your dad …”
He flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “Okay. Definitely not what I want to talk, or think, about when there’s a girl in my bedroom.”
“Sorry, but you started it,” I said. “I was just curious if you’d heard from him lately.”
Ryder sighed. “He called yesterday. Left a voice mail. The same old thing. He apologized and pretty much begged me to call him. He says he wants to see me. Thinks I should come to DC for spring break.”
“Maybe you should.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you miss me?”
“Of course,” I said. “But I’m sure I can find someone else to make out with while you’re away.”
He gave me an exaggerated, playful frown, and I laughed as I leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose.
“Seriously, though. You should call him,” I said. “I know he screwed up pretty terribly. But my dad has done some bad things, too. Prison-worthy bad things, in fact. But he’s still my dad. And I’m glad to have him back in my life. And that’s because of you.” I smiled as I found his hand and twined our fingers together. “I owe you for that, so let me return the favor here. Give him a chance.”
He sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing that even that was serious progress.
“In the meantime …”
I squealed with laughter as he flipped me onto my back and placed a long kiss on my lips.
“No more talking about Amy,” he whispered, his mouth a fraction of an inch from mine. “Or my dad.”
I nodded, the kiss having left me breathless. “Deal.”
But Ryder had barely gotten his hand up my shirt when his cell phone began to ring from the dresser.
“That’s my mom’s ringtone,” he said, rolling off me.
“Of course it is,” I said. “The universe is determined to keep me clothed.”
“The universe is awful,” he said. Then he picked up the phone. “Hello, Mom.”
With the mood sufficiently killed, I climbed off the bed and began walking around Ryder’s room, investigating areas I hadn’t yet. Like his car, it was immaculately clean. Serial-killer clean. Even the DVDs and Blu-rays on his shelf were in alphabetical order.
“Yes. I’ll be sure to do that…. See you tonight, Mom. I love you.” He hung up the phone and turned to look at me. “Did you want to watch a movie?” he asked.
“Maybe. But only if we can watch …” I grabbed the DVD off the shelf and spun to face him, grinning. “Clueless?”
Ryder’s eyes went wide. “I … um …”
“Or Cruel Intentions? Or maybe 10 Things I Hate About You?”
“Okay, I get it.”
“She’s All That? American Pie? Can’t Hardly Wait? That one wasn’t even very good.”
“It’s not bad.”
“I thought you didn’t like mainstream Hollywood films?” I teased.
“Yes. All right. You caught me,” he said. “I have a soft spot for nineties teen movies. It’s a guilty pleasure. I’m not proud of it. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” I said, waving the Clueless DVD. “This proves to me that you are, indeed, human. And if we’re being honest, it makes me like you so much more.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I walked over to where he sat on the bed and kissed him. He smiled against my lips, then tugged on my hand, pulling me closer, but I took a step back. “Oh, no,” I said, holding the DVD up again. “Now I actually want to watch this.”
And, at least for the moment, the subject of Amy was dropped.
But it didn’t stay that way for long.
* * *
Everything fell apart on Valentine’s Day.
Ryder hadn’t dropped the whole apology thing. No matter how many times I assured him that Amy was cool with us dating, he kept bringing it up. I could have killed his mother for planting the seed in his head and making him think he was anything like his dad.
Keeping them away from each other was becoming increasingly difficult. I felt like a character in a sitcom, constantly juggling the two and keeping my stories straight.
So when I saw him walking toward us in the hallway at school, I knew shit was about to hit the fan – a metaphor that never failed to gross me out a little.
“We should go ice skating this weekend,” Amy said as we walked to lunch. “The rink in Oak Hill will close soon, and we haven’t gone all winter.”
“That sounds fun,” I said. “But I think I already have plans with Ryder. Valentine’s Day weekend and all.”
“Valentine’s Day is a day, not a weekend.”
“It can be a weekend if you do it right,” I said, grinning.
“Oh.” Amy looked down at her feet. “Yeah. I should’ve guessed you’d be busy.”
I was about to suggest we watch a movie or something Sunday night instead, when Ryder walked up.
“Ryder,” I said, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I go to school here?”
“Right. I just mean you’re usually not in this hallway.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, we’re just heading to lunch, so —”
“This will only take a second,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. There was a good chance that was the last kiss I’d ever get from him. “I just need to talk to Amy.”
“Me?” she asked, surprised.
“You really don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Everything’s fine. Hey, let’s go get some bad cafeteria lasagna.”
“Amy,” Ryder said, completely ignoring me. “I know these past few months have been strange, but I wanted to apologize and make sure there were no hard feelings about me seeing Sonny.”
She frowned. “Of course there aren’t. Why would there be?”
“See?” I said, trying to shove Ryder down the hall. “She’s fine. Let’s go.”
He didn’t budge. Instead, he scoffed. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised by that reaction. It’s fairly in keeping with the way you’ve been treating me.”
“Excuse me?”
I wanted to hide. To run and lock myself in a bathroom stall. Or, better yet, to vanish completely. Because the cracks were beginning to show, and the lies I’d built between Amy and Ryder were about to come crashing down on top of me.
“Just that, despite a connection that seemed very real online, you’ve always acted as if nothing happened between us. So it’s not exactly surprising that you’d continue the trend now, even though I’ve started dating your best friend. Something that would bother most people.”
Amy gawked at him. “Wh-What?” She froze, and then, slowly, she turned to look at me. I shrank beneath her gaze, and the words she spoke next were so quiet, so cold, that they made me shiver. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Ryder asked.
They were both looking at me now, waiting for me to answer.
I was an excellent liar. But I had no lie for this. Nothing I could think to say or do that would fix it. Nothing that would let me keep them both.
Amy’s eyes flashed, and I saw the fury there that I’d only seen once before, and I shrank away from her, flinching as if she’d struck me.
“Fine,” she said, voice still low. “If you won’t tell him, I will.” She turned to face Ryder. “I never talked to you online, Ryder. I never instant messaged or texted you or any of that. It was all Sonny.”
Ryder took a stumbling step backward. Like he’d just been shoved. “What? Sonny, is that … is that true?”
“I … um …” I swallowed. “Sort of.”
Horror bloomed across his face and suddenly there was so much hurt in his eyes. “You were catfishing me?” he asked. I felt myself shrink away from him as the shame swelled inside of me. “Was it some sort of joke? Were you screwing with me?”
“No!” I cried. “Of course not.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded. “How could you let me think … Jesus Christ. This is so fucked up.”
“Ryder, please, just let me explain.”
“Explain what? That you pretended to be someone else? And lied to me? We’ve been dating for over a month and … were you just not going to tell me?”
“I …” I hoped I wouldn’t have to. I cleared my throat. “Ryder, just give me a second.”
He shook his head. “No. I should go.”
“I’m sorry,” Amy said. “She told me you knew.”
“Well, then, looks like she lied to both of us.”
“Ryder.”
The disgust when he looked at me shattered any composure I might have had. I felt my lip begin to tremble. I’d had everything I wanted, and in a matter of seconds, it had all come tumbling down.
“I’m going to lunch,” he said. He turned and began to walk away.
“Ryder!” I called out again. “Please. Just … listen.”
But he didn’t stop walking.
I spun to face Amy, anger and guilt and heartbreak at war inside me. “How could you do that to me?” I demanded, my hands balled into fists.
She leveled a steady, dark gaze at me. Then she shook her head. “How could you do that to me?” she asked.
I looked down at my feet, shame winning the fight. She was right. As much as I wanted to blame her for telling Ryder, it was all on me. I’d had the chance to tell him so many times, but I’d chickened out. And I’d kept lying to both of them. How stupid was I to think that they’d never find out the truth? That I wouldn’t end up hurting them both?
“I’m sorry,” I said.
But when I looked up, Amy was gone.
And I was completely alone.
Chapter 26
Lonely was not a new feeling for me.
In fact, it was a feeling I knew better than most.
But normally, when I was feeling alone or abandoned, I knew I could go to Amy. I knew she’d be there for me. And recently I’d had Ryder, too.
But not anymore.
It had been a week since the Valentine’s Day Massacre, and neither of them had spoken a word to me since.
I had tried to apologize to Ryder every day since the incident in the hall, but he wouldn’t even look at me. I’d called, I’d texted, I’d e-mailed, and I’d gotten no response. In class, he wore his giant headphones, freezing me out until Mr. Buckley started teaching. So, one day, I tried a different tactic. One that had worked in the past.
I wrote a note.
Please. Give me a chance to explain. I know I screwed up, but it wasn’t all a lie. Hear me out, okay? – S
I tossed it over Ryder’s shoulder and held my breath as he read it, hoping he’d write something back. Instead, he put the note away and raised his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Cross?” Mr. Buckley said, already sounding exasperated.
“May I switch seats?”
I felt myself deflate.
“Why would you want to switch seats?” Mr. Buckley asked.
I thought he would out me. Play the tattletale and let Mr. Buckley know I was passing notes. It wasn’t as if I didn’t deserve it. But Ryder had more integrity than that. Which was one of the reasons I’d fallen for him, I guess.
“I’m having trouble seeing the board,” Ryder said. “Could I sit closer?”
I felt like I’d just been kicked in the chest. I sank back into my seat, trying not to let my feelings show.
Mr. Buckley sighed. “Sure. Come on up. And maybe think about getting some real lenses for those glasses of yours.”
He hadn’t sat near me since.
Amy couldn’t avoid me quite as easily, but damn if she didn’t try.
We may have lived under the same roof, but Amy did her best to never be in the same room as me. When I walked downstairs, she went back up them. When I came into the kitchen, she moved to the living room. When I entered the rec room, she ran out.
“You’ve got to talk to me eventually,” I said one Saturday as she brushed past me, heading out of the kitchen. I’d had enough of the silent treatment.
When Amy didn’t look back, I followed her.
“Come on, Amy,” I said. “I know you’re pissed, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. How many times do I have to apologize?”
She stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face me. That same dark glint I’d seen the day she outed me to Ryder was there. That rare spark of anger.
“How many times?” Amy asked. “I don’t know, Sonny. You’ve apologized a lot in the past. But I’m starting to think that words don’t mean anything to you, because you always just go and do something worse.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d apologized for making her flirt with that guy on Black Friday. I’d apologized for the texts to Ryder. I’d apologized for how long my plan had taken before swearing I’d be honest. But I’d just kept going, making it worse and worse.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, because I had no clue what else I could say. “I mean it. I just got so caught up in everything with Ryder and me…. Amy, we have to work this out. We’re best friends. We’re Sonny and Amy. You mean more to me than anyone.”
“Do I?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Then why do you do this?” she demanded. It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice to me, that calm coolness totally gone. “If I’m so important to you, how can you keep walking all over me?”
“I —”
She shook her head. “Let me talk now. You always do the talking, Sonny. That’s the problem. You never let me speak. I might be a quiet person, but that doesn’t mean you have to speak for me or speak over me.”
“I speak for you because you don’t speak up!” I argued. “That’s what I do. I defend you. I protect you.”
“I never asked you to,” she said. “And that’s definitely not what you’ve been doing lately. None of this had anything to do with helping me. It was to help you. Because when I did speak up, when I told you how I felt in Tennessee, you just walked all over me. Completely disregarded everything I said. How is that defending me?”
“Amy —”
“I’m going to talk over you this time!” she shouted. It was so startling, so un-Amy-like, that I took a step back. “You are so selfish,” she continued. “You say that I’m your best friend, but you used me. You pretended to be me. I can’t understand that.”
“Because everything’s easy for you!” I yelled back. “Amy Rush: beautiful, rich, sweet. A good family. A good future ahead of you. Everything just falls into your fucking lap!”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “You’re shy. What a freaking challenge. How hard that must be,” I scoffed. “You don’t even realize how good you have it. Or how hard it is for the rest of us. Guess what, Amy? We’re not going to be roommates in college. Because I never applied anywhere.”
Amy blinked, startled. “What?”
“I’m not going to college,” I said. “If you stopped and thought about it for two seconds, you’d know there’s no way I’m going to Dartmouth or Brown or whatever. I don’t have money. Your parents are paying for my gas right now! I don’t even have a family to sign the damn financial aid forms. You’re going to college, and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing after you leave.”
“So you lied to me about that, too.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I did.”
She shook her head, then turned and walked up the stairs. I followed her.
“That’s it?” I asked. I was riled up now. Amy and I had never been in a fight before. Usually she just got quiet and I waited for her to come around. We’d never yelled at each other. It used to be a point of pride, actually, but now I wanted to yell. I knew I’d regret it later, but at the moment, I wanted to make her hurt as much as I did.
“Yeah,” she said, stopping in her bedroom doorway. “That’s it. I’m done, Sonny. I’m done letting you push me around and use me and …” She let out a long breath. She was calm now. Quiet. “I always knew you were a liar,” she said. “I just never thought you’d lie to me. Guess I was wrong.”
My instinct was to get the last word. That the person who spoke last won the fight. Logical, I know.
But her words hit me harder than anything else she’d said. As it turned out, I didn’t need to make Amy hurt now. I already had.
And before I could come up with anything to say, anything that would make me feel even momentarily victorious, Amy slammed the door in my face.
* * *
Our fight went on for another week. Cold shoulders, angry glares, slamming doors. I spent most of my time in the guest room, wallowing in my misery.
More than once, I found myself dialing Ryder’s number, wanting to hear his voice, to get his advice on what to do, to have him make me laugh. Then I’d remember that he hated me, too, and I’d be left even more crushed than I’d been a moment before.
I’d hoped Amy’s parents hadn’t picked up on the tension in the house, but of course they had.
“Sonny,” Mrs. Rush said from outside the bedroom door. “Can we come in a second?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting up. I’d been lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, contemplating how awful my life was. You know, productive stuff. “Come on in.”
Mr. and Mrs. Rush stepped inside, and Mr. Rush shut the door behind him. I knew by the looks on their faces that nothing good was going to come of this.
“We wanted to come in and check on you,” Mrs. Rush said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“We know that things between you and Amy have been … off,” Mr. Rush said.
Understatement of the century.
“Yeah … Um. I’m okay.”
“That’s good,” Mrs. Rush said. “You know we love both you and Amy, and we’re sure you two will work this out eventually.”
I was glad she was, because I wasn’t so sure.
“We don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Mr. Rush said. “You’ve been very quiet on the topic. And that’s your prerogative. We just want you to know that we’re here for you both.”
I could sense the “but” coming.
“We’ve been thinking, though,” Mrs. Rush said. “This has been going on for two weeks, and … maybe the best thing for both of you is to take some time apart. To get some space from each other.”
“Oh.”
I felt the panic beginning to rise. Because I knew what came next. I knew what they were going to say.
And it was the last thing I wanted to hear.
“We’ve been happy to have you here,” Mr. Rush said. “But living together is hard. Even for best friends. So perhaps it’s time for you to go home.”
Chapter 27
They insisted on driving me.
I told them I had Gert. I told them I could go alone. I told them not to worry.
But they wouldn’t hear it.
We pulled into the driveway around noon, and even though it was surprisingly sunny for the beginning of March, everything about my house seemed dark and gray. Like it was haunted. Like there was a permanent shadow hanging over it, clinging to the tree branches in the front yard.
“You don’t have to come in,” I said, forcing myself to sound confident. “I can talk to Mom on my own.”
“Is she even here?” Mrs. Rush asked. “There’s no car in the driveway.”
“She’s … she’s probably at work,” I said. “She’ll be home soon. I have my key, so …”
“Why don’t we wait with you,” Mr. Rush said. It wasn’t a question, though. He and Mrs. Rush wasted no time unbuckling their seat belts and getting out of the car.
But I stayed, frozen in the backseat.
No.
No, it couldn’t happen like this.
“Come on, Sonny,” Mrs. Rush said, opening the door next to me. “It’ll be okay. I know it’s probably scary to confront your mom, but that’s why we’re here.”
But that wasn’t what was scaring me.
I climbed out of the car, trying to keep my composure as panic bubbled in my stomach. I fumbled for my key, which had spent months at the bottom of my purse, unused, unwanted. I hesitated before sliding it into the lock.
“I appreciate you coming with me,” I said. “But really, you don’t have to stay. It … it’ll probably be better if I talk to her alone. I can call you after —”
“I think we should be here,” Mr. Rush said. “Based on what you told us before, your mom has a tendency to overreact. If we’re here, maybe she’ll keep a cooler head.”
“We just want to make sure everything’s okay,” Mrs. Rush said, ruffling my hair a little. “Let’s go on inside, Sonny. It’s cold out here.”
My hands were shaking so hard. “You really don’t have to —”
“We know,” Mr. Rush said. “But we want to.”
With both of their eyes on me, I had no other choice but to unlock the front door and let them inside.
The living room was dark, the blinds drawn, and the stale odor of it nearly suffocated me. I shivered in my jacket. It wasn’t much warmer inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. and Mrs. Rush glance at each other, and the panic rose up into my throat.
“My mom might be a while,” I said. “She works weird hours.”
“We can wait,” Mr. Rush said, but there was a skeptical tone to his voice. He sat down on the couch, a puff of dust rising around him. He had the grace to pretend he didn’t notice. “Come sit with me. We’ll wait together.”
“Um …” I looked over at Mrs. Rush, who seemed to be scoping out the place, her eyes investigating every corner of the living room. “You know, my mom might not be okay with coming home to find so many people in the house. You don’t know this about her, but she’s really an introvert. This might be too overwhelming and —”
“Sonny,” Mr. Rush said, “is there something wrong?”
“No.” But my voice cracked. “No, I’m just worried my mom won’t be okay with this when she gets home. I really should just talk to her myself.”
“It’s so dark in here,” Mrs. Rush said. “Let me get the light.”
“No!”
But it was too late. She’d flipped the switch on the wall.
And nothing had happened.
“Sonny,” Mrs. Rush said quietly, “is there no electricity here?”
“No … the bulb’s just burnt out.”
“The heat’s not on either.”
“Mom likes it cold.”
“Sonny,” Mr. Rush said.
“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You two need to go.”
“No one’s been here in months, have they?” Mrs. Rush asked. Her voice was so soft, so gentle, that it hurt.
I tried to laugh, but it came out maniacal and cold. “Don’t be ridiculous. Mom’s here every day. She’ll be home soon.”
Mr. Rush stood up and walked over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to lie to us. Just tell us what’s going on, okay?”
And that’s when it broke, every ounce of cool I’d kept over the past few months. Maybe it was this house. Maybe it was the unwavering kindness in Mr. Rush’s voice. Maybe it was being told not to lie for the thousandth time. But it just snapped and fell away.
And there was no way to pull together the pieces now.
“Nothing’s going on!” I screamed. It left a sharp ache in my throat, and tears spilled from my eyes. “It’s fine. Just go!”
“Sonny —”
“Go!” I pushed Mr. Rush’s hand off my shoulder. “Get out!”
“Sonny!” Mrs. Rush gasped.
“Get out!” I screamed again, stomping my foot and clenching my fists, like a child throwing a tantrum. “Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out!”
“Sonya!” Mrs. Rush grabbed my arm, but I yanked it away.
“Just leave! Mom will be here soon – just GO!”
The tears were hot as they rolled down my face. My whole body shook as I pleaded with both of them to leave.
Leave so they wouldn’t have to know.
Wouldn’t find out.
But it was too late.
They knew.
The secret I’d kept from everyone. The most painful truth I’d locked away. It was about to come out, and I couldn’t bear it.
“Stop, Sonny.” Mr. Rush caught my wrists and pulled me to him, holding me in a hug so tight I couldn’t resist anymore.
I thrashed for a minute to no avail. I was too tired. Too hurt.
“She’s coming back,” I cried. “She’ll be here soon.”
“Shhh,” Mr. Rush said. “It’s okay, Sonny.”
He pulled me to the couch and we sank down together as I sobbed into his shoulder. He stroked my hair, the way my dad had when I was little and had nightmares. No one had held me like this in almost a decade. I should’ve been too old for it. Too old to be comforted this way.
But just then, I felt like a little kid again.
Like the little kid who had been left behind all those years ago.
I could hear Mrs. Rush walking around the house, but I never looked up. I never stopped crying.
“She’s on her way,” I mumbled every few minutes or so. “She’s coming back.”
But no one believed me anymore.
I didn’t believe me anymore.
I don’t know how much time passed like that, but eventually Mrs. Rush came to sit down on the couch with me and her husband. She rested a hand on my back, and the show of kindness just made me cry harder.
When the tears finally slowed and I was able to catch my breath, Mrs. Rush asked the question I’d been dreading.
“Where’s your mother, Sonny?”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t lie anymore. I didn’t have the energy or the strength.
“I … I don’t know.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“A while.” I swallowed and rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. “She leaves sometimes. But … but she always comes back. But this time …”
“Oh, Sonny,” Mr. Rush murmured. “You were never kicked out.”
I shook my head no.
They didn’t ask why I’d lied, and for that I was eternally grateful. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about anything. I wanted to go back in time. Before the Rushes saw this empty, dusty, lonely house. Before I fucked up everything with Amy and Ryder.
Before I was alone.
“Come on,” Mr. Rush said. “Let’s go.”
“No,” I said, clutching at his arm. I hated myself. I hated the pathetic sound of my voice when I said, “Don’t leave me. Please.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mrs. Rush wrapped her arms around me. “No. Sonny, we’re not leaving you here. You’re coming back with us, okay?”
“But Amy —”
“Loves you,” Mr. Rush said. “And so do we.”
“Whatever is going on with you two, you’ll work it out,” Mrs. Rush said. “And she’d want you to come back with us, too.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, though. Not after everything I’d done. This was just another lie I’d told her. Just another reason for her to hate me.
Mr. Rush walked me out to the car while Mrs. Rush gathered some more clothes from my bedroom. None of us said a word on the drive back to their house. I stared out the window, my eyes wet and burning.
It was over. The cat was out of the bag. I felt naked, humiliated. Raw.
When we got back to the Rushes’ house, Amy was sitting in the living room, watching TV. She looked stunned to see me walk through the door.
I turned my face away from her, hiding. I didn’t say a word to anyone, just ran up the stairs to the guest room where I’d been staying.
I didn’t mean to slam the door behind me, but I did.
I fell onto the bed, my face in the pillow. But I didn’t cry. I couldn’t.
There weren’t any tears left.
