“Whatever you need, Milayna.”
We were quiet on the way to my grams’ apartment. I looked out of the passenger’s side window while Chay drove through town. The lights whizzed by and melded into one multi-colored rope rolling past the window. I watched it wind its way around the car through my watery gaze. I wasn’t sure when I started crying. Maybe it was while Chay and I were sitting in front of the darkened shop, or when the police interviewed us, or maybe I’d been crying all along.
When we reached Grams’ apartment, Chay walked me inside.
“Go lay down, child,” Grams said as soon as she saw me. I crawled onto the purple couch I loved and pulled one of her soft, patchwork quilts over me. I still couldn’t get warm. “You must be Milayna’s Chay,” I heard Grams say.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She tsked. “Call me Grams. All the family does.”
“Okay,” he said, looking over her head at me. I tried to smile at him, but I couldn’t get my lips to form it.
“A bad vision?” she asked Chay.
He nodded. “A bad outcome.”
“Ah. Well now, that is an unfortunate turn of events. She was just coming to terms with everything.” Grams looked over at me. “She’s strong. Stronger than she thinks. She’ll be all right.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay with her for a little while. Please.”
My grandma studied Chay so long that I didn’t think she was going to answer. “I don’t see the harm in that,” she said finally. “I’ll call her parents. How much do they know?”
“Everything. I called them.”
“Good, they can fill me in.” Grams wheeled her chair into the other room to use the phone.
Chay sat on the floor next to the couch. He reached out and smoothed the hair from my face. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
Chay sighed and looked at me. His eyes were full of emotion. The blue and green seemed to swirl. “Milayna, you’ve given me the same answer for the last two hours. Tell me what you’re really feeling.”
“Like I failed.”
Again. I failed again. But this time, I let someone die. What kind of demi-angel am I? Maybe I’m no better than Azazel.
“You didn’t fail. You did everything you could do, everything and more. No one thinks you’ve failed.”
“I do.” I felt hot tears streak down my face again and wondered if I’d ever stop crying.
Chay kissed me lightly on the mouth before brushing my tears away with the pads of his thumbs.
“I’m going to go change. I’ll be right back.” I eased away from Chay and off the couch. I shut the bedroom door softly behind me before digging out a pair of black yoga pants and a long, purple T-shirt from the drawer of things Muriel and I kept stashed at Grams’.
I went into the bathroom and washed off what little makeup was left on my face and changed into the clean clothes. Wrapping myself up in Chay’s jacket and my grandmother’s quilt, I went back into the living room.
“Milayna, why don’t you go lie down? You look exhausted,” Grams said.
“‘Kay.” It didn’t matter where I was. Couch or bed, my thoughts would follow me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Chay gave me a small kiss before turning toward the door.
“No, Chay, wait. Sit with me until I fall asleep?” I didn’t want to be alone. The memories wouldn’t go away. The images from the night played over and over in my head. But I felt safe in Chay’s arms. He understood like no one else could. I needed him.
He looked quickly at my grandmother. At her slight nod, he smiled at me. “Sure.”
I climbed onto Grams’ four-poster bed. Chay sat up beside me, his back against the headboard and his long legs stretched out in front of him, my head laying on his chest, and his arm around my shoulders. I listened to his heart beating, strong and alive. We lay like that, unspeaking in the darkness, for a long while. I didn’t even feel myself get sleepy, but then it was morning and the sun streamed through the windows into my eyes.
I heard my parents talking to my grandma in hushed tones from the living room. Crawling out of bed, I walked by a mirror. I was surprised I was still wearing Chay’s jacket, and I wondered vaguely what he’d worn home. When I smoothed my hand over the soft suede, something shiny caught my eye. I looked at my wrist in the mirror and saw the bracelet he’d bought me. I wasn’t sure why, but it brought tears to my eyes.
I was crying when I went to bed, and I’m crying when I wake up. All I do is cry.
“Hey, honey,” my dad said when he saw me.
My mom put her arm around my shoulders and guided me to the sofa. Turning, I buried my head in the side of her neck and sobbed. I cried so hard my entire body shook. My mom sat quietly and let me cry, smoothing my hair down my back. She didn’t say anything until my sobs turned to hiccupped sniffles. “It’s okay, Milayna,” she whispered.
I shook my head. It wasn’t all right. Not for me. Not for the woman at the Waterway.