“I think you’d be a great sportswriter.” She smiles, looking happier than I’ve seen her since… before. “And I think anyone who can help you find your way forward is a good person to have in your life.”
She scoops up an armful of towels, calling over her shoulder as she heads toward her bathroom, “Guess I’ll have to find a new laundry partner.”
* * *
The next morning, I pack up the box of Kimberly’s stuff and carry it upstairs. Mom follows just behind me, her hand wrapping gently around my arm when I make it to the entryway.
“Are you sure about this, honey?” she asks, turning me to face her.
I nod, looking up from the box to meet her questioning gaze. “I’m sure.”
She pulls me into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around me. I lean into it. I need to do this to start moving forward. Whether that’s getting an internship or mending things with Sam or… anything else.
The memories of that night aren’t the ones I want to hold on to. I have to let go of the guilt. I have to stop trying to keep her boxed up here with me.
Gently, I lay a hand on top of the box, one last goodbye, before handing it to Mom to give back to Kim’s parents. As she turns, I feel the heaviness of the charm bracelet in my pocket. The final reminder of that fateful night.
The one I didn’t think I could let go of.
“Wait,” I say as I pull it out, the metal charms clinking together. It hurts to let it go, but as I gently place it inside the box, a weight lifts off my chest and lets me take my first deep breath in almost four months.
16
I lie on my back on the grass a few days later, watching the sunlight trickle through the tree branches, the sparkling light dancing in front of my vision. Marley and I meet up at noon to feed the ducks like we usually do, the warm late-September weather leading us to the cherry blossom tree, the petals fading now to an off-white.
“What are you thinking about?” Marley asks from next to me.
“Just…” I take a deep breath. “Sam.”
Talking to my mom helped me figure out a lot of shit, but it didn’t fix anything with Sam. And I still can’t figure out how to talk to him about it.
I turn to look at her, the sunlight casting a warm glow on her face, making her hazel eyes bright, the color giving way to a glowing green around her pupil. She reaches out toward my face, and I find myself wondering what it would be like if she touched me.
Instead, she plucks a dandelion from between us and gives it a sniff. The guilt rises up, but without much strength, like it’s too exhausted to keep fighting. Maybe I am too. But Sam’s hurt face doesn’t recede from my mind.
“We got into a fight this weekend. I—I haven’t been a very good friend to him since Kim died. I wasn’t being honest with him.…” I pause and let out a long sigh. “Or with myself.”
“It’s hard to be the one who messes up, isn’t it?” she says, her face growing sad.
I push myself up onto my arm. It takes a lot for Marley to open up. She notices my reaction and offers a weak smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It’s funny. I was always quiet. Super shy. To the point that sometimes Laura even spoke for me.” She looks away, in the direction of the cemetery. “She always knew what I wanted to say. Maybe because we were twins.”
She’s always avoided talking about her sister. No sad stories. This is big for her.
“We were identical. In almost every way,” Marley says, and the dark cloud behind her eyes comes over her. From the furrow in her brow to the battered hunch of her shoulders, it consumes her. It’s like an entirely different person is sitting in front of me. “When I lost her, I lost my voice. But now, with you…” She stops, looking back at me, her eyes clearing just the tiniest bit. “I feel like talking again.”
“Talk all you want,” I say. “I’m here for it.” There’s a magic in this moment where she’s letting me in, and I don’t want to break that spell, so even though I want to take her hand and comfort her, I don’t.
She twists the dandelion around in between her fingers. “A life without Laura,” she says, her voice soft. “It feels more impossible the longer she’s gone. It feels wrong.”
I wait a little while, but she doesn’t say anything more.
“I get that,” I say, sitting up. And I do. Everything about life after the accident has felt wrong. Except this. “But maybe we can both try to find something that makes it feel a little less wrong. Together.”
“How?” she asks.
The words hover on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t know where to begin. Then I think of how we met that day in the cemetery, an idea coming to mind. “Stories. You said we could both be storytellers, right?”
She nods, her face thoughtful.
“Well, I want to hear one of yours,” I say. She straightens up and crosses her arms. “All I got that first day was ‘Once upon a time.’?”
“No way,” she says, her shoulders tense. “I have no idea if they’re good or not. I mean, what if you hate them?”
“I’ll love them. I know I will,” I promise her.
“You can’t promise something like that,” Marley says with a laugh.
“Please?” I ask, and I can see the hesitation in her face. The silence stretches between us until she finally breaks it, letting out a long, dramatic sigh.
“Okay… but only if I get to read some of your stuff too.”
I’m so happy she said yes that I’m already nodding before I realize what I’ve agreed to.
Damn, she’s good.
She holds up her pinky. I wrap mine around it, promising. Our hands linger, fingers sliding toward wrists until her hand is completely in mine.
It feels like waking up again. Every fiber in me feels alive, wanting me to close the gap between us, the smallest shift an earthquake.
“Marley…,” I start to say, but she quickly pulls away, her eyes lingering on my lips.
“Do you feel that?” she whispers.
I do. The air around us buzzes, the space between us crackling.
I reach out to take her hand again, but just as my fingers meet hers, she moves away from me, pulling herself out of the moment. She stands quickly and brushes off her clothes, abruptly stuffing her hands into her jean jacket. “I should go.”