Flat-Out Celeste(Flat-Out Love II)

Shifting from third gear to fourth felt good, but every stoplight agitated her more. Then she pulled onto a highway. Fifth gear felt better, stronger. She stepped on the gas until she was doing ninety and passing cars that were going too slow for what she needed. The power felt good, the speed freeing. She found the ocean on her left and drove up the coast, changing lanes often, leaving everything behind her. It was a rush, intoxicating, distracting. Driving took her out of herself, and that was needed because she couldn’t stand to be who she was now. Maybe not ever.

But she couldn’t shake Flat Finn. Of all the things for Justin to know about, there would be no recovering from that one. Humiliation coursed through her entire being. It didn’t matter that Flat Finn had been gone for years. The simple fact was that he had indeed been her constant companion for a long time. It was not normal, even though she’d been much younger, and it was not anything that she could explain away. Or even laugh about. Even today—even today—she couldn’t laugh about him. Because she missed that cardboard representation of Finn; he’d given her strength and an ability to cope that she hadn’t been able to muster on her own in the wake of her brother’s death.

How truly weak it was, what she had needed then. And how pathetic it was what she needed now, now in this day of ruin.

It was forty minutes before Celeste pulled over onto a beach area. She could breathe again, her thoughts crystallizing.

The slam of the door followed her as she took off her shoes and walked across the hot sand. Her feet were probably burning, but she kept a slow pace, dragging them through the sand until she reached the shoreline. Celeste dropped to her knees, letting the last edge of a wave inch toward her before pulling back. Gone again. Then another one approached, testing what it was like to become part of her, and then leaving. As every one would. And as everyone would.

When the sand was bare, she noticed, there was nothing left. No imprint, no pattern, just nothing. As though the wave had never been there.

It was what she would do. It would be as though this year had never happened. It would simply disappear.

But then he was next to her. Justin. And now she would have to make him disappear, too.

He knelt down. “Celeste. You’re hard to track down, did you know that? I mean, I like fast driving, but I lost you about ten miles back, so I just followed the coast line and hoped I’d find you. Guess the Corvette was a good choice, because it stands out.”

Another wave, another exit as the water ripped away from her.

“I mean, if you’d been driving a Civic or something, it might have been impossible to ever find you. Too many of those around. Are you hungry? We didn’t get to eat. You must be starving. I know another really good place to take you. Let’s just go. Let’s get out of here together. I can leave my car. Or whatever you want?”

She dug her toes into the wet sand, grinding the rough feel into her skin.

“Celeste, please. It’s okay.” He dropped down all the way now, sitting in front of her in the path of the water. “Why didn’t you tell me that you got into Barton? I know you won’t go, but you should have told me. Obviously, you’ll go to Harvard or any of the other amazing schools you got into, but you still should have told me.”

In order for this to end, she would have to speak. So she forced herself.

“There are a lot of things I should have told you, Justin, so that you would have known that I am not someone you are able to save.”





Dreams and Truth

“What are you talking about?” Justin was gentle. More than he should be, given what she was about to say.

“I am not going to dream anymore. I am not going to pretend that I am anything that I am not. That I could never be, not really.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Are you not able to see? Your understanding of me is clouded because you think you have feelings for me.”

“I do have feelings for you.”

“They are not real. They are not grounded in truth.”

“I know who you are, and I adore you.”

“No. I am too damaged. My eccentricities too insurmountable. I have been trying to behave as though I can attain a normal existence and have normal experiences and interactions. It is a charade. My past is indicative of who I am and who I will always be. You perhaps find my character temporarily amusing, interesting even, but you will tire of me, and this will fall apart.” She looked at him now. “I do not want this with you. This relationship cannot survive. It cannot survive me.”

Justin’s face paled and he began shaking his head. “No. No, don’t say that. No, no. You can’t do this.”

“Yes. I can. I have to. In my heart, I am weak. You have now heard about Flat Finn and about how I carried around a replica of my dead brother for years. That is bizarre. And because of my weakness and fragility, I am responsible for the destruction of Matt and Julie’s relationship. The destruction of my brother, really. Matthew knew that I would disintegrate without him then and now, and he is likely correct. I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me the way that he did. And it will happen.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He was panicking now, his voice shaking and his breathing irregular. “No, no. I am not sacrificing anything for you. And you are not weak. Do you not see that? You don’t, do you.” He stood up and paced in front of her. “You have more strength than anyone should. All those years that you were alone? That you isolated yourself? You didn’t have friends, you didn’t have anyone to be close with, to talk with, or… or play with. You were alone. That must have been painful, and yet you rallied anyway and kept going. It takes strength to stay apart from the crowd. You are brave, Celeste. So what if you found a way to deal with your brother’s death that was a little unusual? Good for you. It was a smart thing. I don’t care what you had to do to get through something so painful.”

Celeste was shut down now, speaking in a monotone. “You will never be able to look at me the same way now that you know. About Flat Finn, about how I have taken everything from Matthew. I am a drain on those around me. That will not change. I am weird. As I said yesterday, I am certainly diagnosable, and that makes for something too drastic for you to have to deal with.” She inhaled the truth, choking on the conviction of what she was saying. “Do you see how quickly I come undone? With a snap of the fingers. I had a bout of temporary sanity. It was a joke. An illusion. Now I understand the nature of my character and the expansive impact that I have on others.”
   



Justin put both hands in his hair and continued pacing, talking quickly, desperately. “You don’t get to tell me what I want and don’t want. God, we’re all probably diagnosable. Look at the world around you. Look! We all have something. All of us. Every single person in this world has a quirk. The guy in my lit class who can’t stop sniffing every time the professor mentions the words thematic representations? Or… or… or the way my friend Trent gets a new body piercing every time he gets an electric shock on the job? That’s weird, right? But it’s cool. It makes him who he is. I mean, I wouldn’t do it because that’s not me, but it’s him. And… and… I never understood the whole piercing thing, myself. Seems a rather extreme and painful way to express yourself, but—”

“Justin, stop,” she said quietly. He was coming apart. Another thing that was her fault.

“No, no, I will not stop. And how about me? What about how you are with me? What about the snowy owl? Remember that first night that we went out, and I spilled and tripped and babbled and made a huge disaster out of everything? You didn’t care, right? Tell me you didn’t care? I know you didn’t. That’s how you are. And I don’t care about any of this stuff about you that you think is not okay. You have to stop hating yourself. And stop assuming that everyone else will hate you. Please, you have to. Look how much you’ve done this year? You have Dallas and other new friends. You were great at Barton yesterday. And you have me. Sometimes you need someone else to believe in you, to carry you, until you can do that yourself. Let me carry you. You’re almost there. Damn it, Celeste, you’re almost there. God, please, you have me, and I want you.” He stopped walking back and forth and put both of his hands over his heart. “I want you so much.”

She looked at him, utterly exhausted now. “You only think you do. It will pass. I will not allow you to be further dragged into my dysfunction. You know how to work with whatever you imagine are your challenges. I do not. I refuse to be a burden on you or anyone anymore. We are over.”

“Stop it! Matt made choices and those are his responsibility. Don’t blame him for loving you.” Justin’s eyes were red now. “And don’t blame me either. What about this weekend? What about everything that has gone on between us?” He got on his knees in front of her and took her by the wrists, pressing her hands against his chest. “I love you. Do you feel that? I love you, Celeste.”

“You are mistaken. You cannot possibly. And even if part of you thinks you do, I will not let you.”

“Listen to me!” He pressed her hands more tightly to him. “Don’t doubt my love. Don’t doubt yourself. You don’t get to do that. Remember we talked about the fight? You’re in it again. So win. Fight for yourself, fight for me, for us. For… for whatever you need to. But win this battle and win the war. This is not the time to give up; it’s not. God, you’ve worked so hard this year; you get more and more comfortable every time I talk to you, so don’t stop now. Everything is lined up in your favor, so I’m telling you, win the war. Finish it. You need this to be over.” He tried so hard to smile. “You’re a pacifist, anyway. You are. Let the past rest. Let there be a future. Find the peace.”

Celeste stood up, her emotions dulled. She was unable to cry, unable to feel. It was time for her to go. She took the car keys from her pocket.

He put both hands on her legs, trying to stop her. “You are more capable of being loved than you understand. And—Celeste, this is important—you nurture and love and protect more than anyone I have known. Or could know. Don’t take that away from me. From us.”

She had to gasp for air. It took enormous effort to get these words out. “My future is to be alone. No one will get hurt that way. You believe that differences make the world go around? You are wrong. People die, people are cruel, people leave, people get hurt. They damage each other, reject each other, abandon each other, they break up, and they spiral downward. Those are the things that make my world go around. There is no allowance in my life for happiness despite my efforts. It is fleeting only and cannot hold. I have failed, and now I surrender. I cannot tolerate having anything to lose. So I choose to let you go before you are pulled into my darkness and lost. Because you, you of all people, Justin, deserve light.”

Now she was drained. Now there was nothing left. She turned from him and walked away, leaving him on his knees in the wet sand. Looking back was not an option. Celeste could not bear to see what she had done to him. It was better to do this today than months from now, when their hearts were further entwined, when the pain would be even greater.

When Matt returned to the hotel, they would drive to the airport and take the first flight back to Boston. Life would resume as Celeste had known it—life before she’d had hope, before Justin, and before that enticing taste of joy had broken through her walls.

Only this time, she would not have Matt, because she would have to let him go, too. It was the only way that she could free her brother.





Erased

Not that Boston was known for gorgeous weather during March, but this year it felt particularly brutal. In more ways than one.

At least Justin’s endless voice mails, texts, and emails had subsided. Blocking his number had been nearly crippling, but she’d done it, and she never replied to any of his emails. She hadn’t even read them. It was the only way to erase him from her life.

Matt was proving more difficult. He had respected her refusal to speak to him for the first few days after their disastrous trip, but he was showing up at the house for dinner more than she liked, pushing her to talk to him. She rebuffed all of his efforts. It was exhausting to behave in anything resembling a friendly manner in front of her parents, but she forced herself each time. She did not want to explain any of this mess to her parents. In fact, he was downstairs right now, having invaded the house under the guise of needing to borrow an iron because he had a job interview this week. No one in the world could have any confidence that he knew how to iron even a napkin, so Erin had taken pity on him and was currently ironing his brand-new dress shirt and pants. Celeste had made herself scarce and was in her room.

As she had done every day since her return from San Diego, she ran through her phone and computer looking for anything left of Justin. She was afraid that she had missed something, and she needed all physical evidence of him out of her life. The emotional evidence was taking work to erase, but she fought every minute to keep emotion at bay. She had a very practical search to do. Granted, it had neared obsessive levels, as she knew that her browser history had been cleared and photographs, emails, and texts deleted. Yet something nagged at her. There was something that she was forgetting.
   



Her bedroom door swung open. Matt.

She glanced at him for a split second before turning away. “Please leave.”

But he strolled into the room and sat down on her bed. “Are you still giving me the silent treatment? That’s got to be boring. I mean, passing over compelling discussions with someone of my intellect has to be killing you.”

“I asked you to leave.”

“Mom says you decided to go to Harvard.”

She didn’t respond.

“And you’re going to live at home? Why would you do that? Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“I would very much like for you to get out of here,” she said flatly.

“Celeste, come on. Enough.”

“Get out.”

“I said I was sorry for what happened. Really. You can’t just pretend that I’m not your brother.”

“I can. I will.”

“Look, I give you points for stubbornness. Really I do. You win, okay? Now tell me what to do to get you to knock off this game.”

She swiveled slowly in her chair. “You can get the hell out of my room. Now.”

He looked so sad. “Celeste…”

She raised her voice. “Get the hell out! Do not come back. Graduate with your degree, go on your interviews, and accept a job far away from me. I am toxic to you!”

“That is not true. I hurt you, and you’re mad. I know that. Tell me how to make this up to you. Free burgers from Bartley’s for life? Or… or… or I’ll only type in Comic Sans for the next year.” He held a hand up. “Swear on my life.”

“I have no wish for your jokes. None. Stay away from me.”

“You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this act. Pushing everyone away is a huge mistake. Are you even talking to Dallas anymore? Dad just told me that she’s been calling the house saying that you’re not returning the messages she left on your phone.”

“That is not your concern. I am not your concern. Not anymore.”

The truth was that she was still talking to Dallas, although mostly only in school. Ending that friendship would be more effort than she had now. They would graduate soon enough, and Celeste could slip out of the small social life she’d established. Arousing too much alarm now was impractical. So she smiled at school, she asked lots of questions, and she did everything that she could to keep the focus off of herself. She knew that Dallas wasn’t buying it, but Celeste pawned it off as not wanting to talk about her break-up with Justin. It was enough to satisfy Dallas for now.

“You’re my sister. You really think I can just stop caring about you?”

She slammed her hands down on the desk. “You will not be encumbered by me any longer! I cannot stand it!” She was panting, and it took a minute to regain control. “You will go and live your life as you were meant to. Without me and without restraint. I will ask you for a final time to vacate my room.”

Matt looked at her for a long time, tolerating her steely glare, until he finally stood.

“I’m not giving up on you.”

“You should.”

“Never,” he said as he walked by her, finally leaving her alone.

It was not easy to remain stoic and unaffected. But she did it.

Back to the work at hand.

Celeste walked the perimeter of her room, rooting through items, throwing everything that did not give her an answer into a heap. The floor of her bedroom was becoming progressively more and more covered as she cleared off shelves, the nightstand, her dresser drawers. Some piece of Justin remained, and she had to find it. She opened the door to her closet and sifted through each hanger. Then she searched the floor, hurling shoes behind her. Nothing. There was nothing. And yet, there was something, somewhere. She could feel it in her heart, and that feeling had to be eliminated. Celeste stood on her tiptoes and pulled down a stack of sweaters, hurling each one behind her.

And then she saw it. And remembered. The pink sweater that she’d had on for her date with Justin last December. The one that he had gently pulled over her head when she’d been so distraught, and the one that she’d had on when she walked through his winter wonderland. And when they had been lifted into the air to look down on the Christmas tree.

The Christmas tree. The star.

Celeste took a deep breathe in and out through her nose, shutting her eyes to keep her composure.

The box that had their notes in it. That was still out there in the world. And she needed to get that back so that it, too, could be destroyed.

Calmly she walked through the mess in her room, did a quick search for a phone number, and sat down in her big chair. She dialed the number.

“Good afternoon, Eastern Communications. In order to better assist you, may I have your account number, please?”

“Hello,” she said brightly. “I am not calling about my account. I am endeavoring to contact an employee of yours. His name is Trent, and much to my dismay, I cannot provide you with his last name. Would you be able to be of assistance?”

“Sorry, ma’am, I am only in charge of account services. May I have your account number?”

“I do not have an account number. I have a need to locate one of your fellow employees.”

“I can’t help you with that, ma’am. Perhaps you’d like to upgrade your service to one of our new bundle packages? May I have your account number?”

Celeste hung up and redialed, reaching a different person.

“Good afternoon, Eastern Communications. In order to better assist you, may I have your account number, please?”

“Hello. I am not calling about my account. I am endeavoring to contact an employee of yours. His name is Trent…”

And so it continued. Until finally she had a phone number.

Two hours later, she was in the car and heading to Dedham.

The Christmas tree lot was, of course, empty. Deserted, covered in muddy slush, and dismal, it looked nothing like it had the last time that she’d been here.

That made the ache worse.

Celeste stopped herself. She would not go back to that night, to that hope. She slammed the car into a parking spot and began the walk. There were no lights this time, no halo cast over her, no boy there romancing her and easing his way into her heart. She was grateful for that, because she had no room for those memories. She couldn’t. There were puddles, there was gray sky that broke through the evergreen arch, and there was emptiness. Those, those she had room for.
   



When she reached the clearing, she immediately steered herself to the driveway without looking up at the tree. The rumble of the truck was relaxing. It meant this would soon be over.

Trent pulled his phone company truck up next to her. “I was certainly surprised to hear from you,” he said with a smile. “Lordy, you must be freezing! No coat? No hat? It’s goddamn sleeting like crazy out there.”

He was right. Celeste hadn’t noticed her lack of winter attire until Trent pointed it out. It was only now that she realized that her thin shoes and socks were drenched with ice water. No matter. She barely felt anything.

“I am fine,” she said. “You also are not sporting appropriate clothing.” She nodded in his direction. “You have on only a light shirt.”

He winked. “So I guess we’re both tough mother—” He winced. “Well, you know what I mean. But we are both tough, and I’ll leave it at that.”

He could not be more wrong. Only one of them was tough.

“So how is Justin? What’s going on with that boy?” he asked. “I haven’t heard from him in weeks, and he’s not calling me back.”

He might as well have ripped a knife through her chest. Of course he would mention Justin. It was incredibly stupid of her not to have considered this. And now she had no response for him. Celeste looked up at Trent. “Would you… would you…” She swallowed hard. “Would you be so kind as to help me retrieve something from the top of that tree? It would be most appreciated, as I surely cannot climb or otherwise rise to such heights, but it is of great necessity that I obtain an item left there.” She could hear the crying start, the choking, but she could not stop it. “It is with great urgency… I simply had no one else to whom I could extend the request…” She wiped her eyes. “I am very sorry for putting you out, as I imagine that this weather is causing telephone wire damage, and your services must be needed elsewhere.”

“Hey, hey, easy there, little love.” Trent frowned, the confusion on his face clear. “I’ll help you. You wait here, okay? I’ll get you what you need.” He put the car in gear. “Tell me what I’m looking for.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Celeste caught her breath and turned to point at the upper branches of the tree. Justin’s tree. The lights were gone, as was the star. With every ounce of her being, she needed the box to be there. “In the top branches, there should be a small plastic container.”

He nodded. “Hold tight. I gotcha.”

Trent drove forward and pulled the truck up next to the tree and lowered the cherry picker. Nimbly, he stepped into the bucket and steered the crane to raise him to the top. It was with great anxiety that she watched him lean over the side, his hand disappearing among the branches. It felt like an eternity, but eventually he held a hand in her direction and waved his arm. He had found their notes. The last piece.

She felt relief. She felt devastation.

She felt nothing, and she felt everything.

Trent lowered the bucket back to the bed of the truck and ducked back into the cab, then circled the truck back to her. He held out the box, but kept his hand on it when she tried to take it from him. “You gonna be okay?”

Celeste met his eyes. She didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve known Justin for years,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“He’s my best friend. Like a brother. I know what you mean to him.”

She froze. “Do not tell him about this. I beg you. It will make it worse. I know that.”

“And I know that it’s not over until it’s really, unforgivably over.” He let go of the box and faced forward. “Make sure it’s unforgivably over, or you’re going to regret it.”





Hinges

The box with their Christmas notes sat on her nightstand for a week. Celeste was unable to destroy it as planned. It would make sense to, and it would finalize everything. But it sat beside her bed. She lay on her side with her head on the pillow and stared at it. She would not open it; she would not read what he had written. She would not.

Her room was back to its overly organized state. She had spent the morning cleaning and doing laundry, and she could still smell the bleach on her comforter. Her parents had asked her to join them on a day trip to Cape Cod, but the last thing she felt like doing was going antiquing or eating fried fish. Or pretending to be happy. Or doing anything, really.

She could do nothing, feel nothing, and think nothing. She might as well be dead. This had to end sometime. If she waited it out, this would end. The peace that she reflected on the outside would seep into her soul, and she would feel it. That’s what she’d thought anyway, but it had been a month now, a full month, and her despondence held strong. She needed help, but there was no one to help her. No respite, no comfort.

Before, in her darkest days after Finn’s death, when she couldn’t accept all that Matt tried to do for her, there had been Flat Finn. His arrival at the house immediately turned things around. Not that she had ever believed he was actually her brother. Her thinking had never been that twisted. But it had been as a young child is with a beloved blanket or stuffed animal. A transitional object one uses and imbues with the feeling of a relationship. One can feel loved and supported by unconventional means.

Celeste knew what she had to do.

She rose from bed and left her room, walking to the door to the attic. The light flickered when she turned it on, but did not go out. Confidently, she made her way up the creaky stairs and scanned the dusty room. Tucked in the messenger bag that Julie had given her, he was right where she’d left him so many years ago behind a hope chest. Rather amusing placement, she noted to herself. The bag was dusty, but she wiped it with her hand, hung the strap over her shoulder and marched back to her room. And then, with exceptional care, she slid Flat Finn from the bag and unfolded the cardboard cutout. She pulled out the flaps on the back and set him standing tall in the center of her room. Some of the photo paper had wrinkled a bit, but she was pleased to see that essentially he was in good shape. This was a positive sign.

Celeste backed up and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. The gold hinges that Julie helped her affix were all there, put on so that this life-size replica could be folded and tucked away when Celeste needed him to be less conspicuous and more portable. For the first time in weeks, she smiled. The familiarity of having Flat Finn stand guard in her room was overwhelming. “We are back together, my friend. Things are just as they are supposed to be.”
   



She stared at Flat Finn and waited. This would work. He would work. Going back to what had helped in the past was quite logical. If only she’d thought of this sooner. No matter. At least she’d thought of it now.

So she sat, and stared, and breathed in the musty attic smell that rose off of Flat Finn and the bag. She sat for an hour. Then two. Then she decided that perhaps there was too much pressure this way and engaging in normal activity would help. It was a bit difficult to determine what was normal activity, though, since in recent days it had meant laying catatonic on the bed. What did she used to do? Celeste flinched. She was asking herself what she used to do before her life imploded.

Read. She could curl up in her chair and read. She pulled a book from her shelf and sat down by the window. Four chapters later, and barely comprehending a word of what she was reading, she glanced at Flat Finn. He was failing to console her. “Come on; you can do this,” she encouraged him. “Work. Like you used to.”

The sky outside began to darken, and Celeste’s anxiety grew. “I am asking you to help me,” she said forcefully. “Now!”

She felt as lifeless as he was.

A sense of fury rushed through her. She stood and hurled the heavy book at Flat Finn, knocking him to the floor. “This is unfair of you! This is a betrayal! You are failing me when I need you the most! This is a betrayal of the highest order!” Enraged, Celeste rushed to her desk and searched through the three drawers until she located what she needed. Now, with a box cutter in hand, she moved so that she was on all fours on top of the cardboard brother.

And she started cutting, and cutting, and cutting.

With each shard she sliced, her heart pounded more, and the shaking in her hands intensified. Over and over, she slid the blade across Flat Finn, splicing his arms and legs into strands. A scream poured from her gut as she slashed his face, the face of the brother who had left and taken with him his vivacious, bold spirit. Whose death had traumatized the entire family. She wiped a hand across the only part of the photo not in fragments, smearing her tears across the red of Finn’s shirt. “You are a piece of shit! You are a piece of shit! I hate you!” she yelled, unleashing every bit of her pain. “I hate you!”

“Celeste.” Matt was there, kneeling on the floor behind her. “Oh my God.”

Delicately, he took the box cutter from her hand and took her in his arms.

She sobbed, unable to stop. “He is broken, Matthew. Flat Finn is broken! He is a piece of shit! What am I going to do?”

Matt held her, rocking her back and forth as she cried.

Suddenly, she tensed. “What have I done? No, no, no. What have I done to him? Matthew, we have to fix him. We can fix him.” She lunged from Matt’s hold and crawled back to her desk drawer, grabbing a box of hinges leftover from Julie’s endeavors so long ago. “We can fix him; we can fix him,” she said over and over. “Help me, Matty. Please. Fix him for me; fix him for me! You can do this. You can do anything. Oh, please, help.” With her hands shaking, she dumped the box onto the mess of cardboard shreds and bits of rug that she’d cut off in her fit.

“I can’t, Celeste,” Matt said quietly. “I can’t fix him, honey.”

She whipped her head to face him. “Yes! Yes, we can! You will help me! You will do this for me. I am begging you!” But when she looked down at the floor, she saw there were only five gold hinges. She shook her head, over and over. “No, no… Oh God, no.” This couldn’t be right. “There are not enough hinges. There are not enough hinges.” Then Matt was holding her again, pulling her back into his body, surrounding her. “Why aren’t there enough?” She took fistfuls of cardboard shreds in both hands and angrily threw them into the air.

Matt squeezed her. “Stop. Please, stop.”

She panted and fought to get free from his hold. Celeste screamed in one final burst of despair. “I have destroyed him, and now there are not enough hinges!”

Her brother, the one who was here and who she knew loved her, dropped his head onto her shoulder. She felt her shirt get wet.

“Matthew,” she said, calm now. “Matty, please do not cry.”

“I think,” he replied with his head still down, “I think we need to make our own hinges now.”

She thought. “Yes. I believe you are right.”

Together they stayed on the floor of her room, both recovering.

Celeste was drained. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry that I wrecked everything for you and Julie.”

“You didn’t. I wish you hadn’t heard what I said in San Diego. It wasn’t you, Celeste, it was me. I’m the one who screwed it all up. I used you as an excuse not to go with Julie to California because… I don’t know… because…”

“Because you were afraid it would not last,” she finished. “That she couldn’t possibly love you as much as you loved her.”

“Yeah.”

“But you stayed with me to keep me safe.”

“There’s something wrong with me. It was a horrible thing to put on you. I didn’t mean to.”

She closed her eyes and listened to her own breathing. “You did a wonderful thing for me, Matty, because you were right. I did need you. Very much.” She touched his arm. “I don’t know what would have happened to me if you had left, and that’s the truth.”

“You are much stronger than you think, and you would have found a way to make things work. You always do. Sometimes it’s a little… different…” He ran a hand though the Flat Finn remnants. “But you make it work.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “So now we need to find hinges for you.”

“And for you.”

“You first. You do still love Julie, do you not? I was right about that.”

Matt sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I still love Julie. She’s moving to London. This summer. It’s part of the foreign-study travel program at the college where she works. She’s going to be in charge of settling students into campus life, acting as the head rep for the college. I didn’t hear the details of it, but it sounds like a big deal. I don’t think I got the chance to tell you that because of the whole shunning-your-brother thing.”
   



“I feel terrible about that. About many things. Tell me, Matt, how did your conversation end with her?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It didn’t really go anywhere but in circles. We left soon after you did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I made this mess, not you.” Matt blew out a chest full of air. “And it hurts like a bitch.”

“I am allowing your use of exceptionally bad language because you and I have faced extraordinary circumstances today, and therefore those sorts of words are appropriate. They capture the strength of our difficulties. And I, too, know that it hurts like that word.”

“I know you do. You’re not talking to Justin, I gather?”

“You gather correctly.” There were tears again, silent this time, and she let them fall. It was nice to finally feel again. She needed that. “Why did you send in the Barton application on my behalf? Was it because you felt that you could pass me off safely into Justin’s hands? Then you would be able to move on?”

“What? No, not at all. You have it all wrong. It didn’t have anything to do with Justin, actually.”

“I am confused.”

“I just thought that… you might like it better at a school where the academic pressure was less strong.”

“Because you do not have confidence that I could keep up?”

“Again, you have it all wrong. Celeste, we all know that you could take those schools by storm, but even for you, it would still be a massive amount of work. And I know you well enough to know you just might take that opportunity to do only that. You’d drown in schoolwork, and there would be nothing else. I think that at a place like Barton you could still get a great education, and you’d know how to push the limits and get all you could out of it, but… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think I do. It is your belief that I would then have time for my emotional and social health and development.”

“I think you could stand to give yourself a break. Who cares if you graduate from Yale, or Harvard, or Brown, or wherever if your life is missing important pieces? You could have so many more pieces. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“So your intention was not to pawn off your crazy sister on someone else?”

He hugged her and chuckled. “You’re not crazy. I mean, you made Flat Finn confetti, but that’s okay. Everyone likes confetti.”

“That was quite the outburst I had. And rather embarrassing. I will confess, though, that I feel better after doing so. This needed to happen.” She surveyed the scene before them.“ Although now we find ourselves in a rather extraordinary mess.”

“Sometimes you have to make a mess.”

“And then you clean it up,” she said confidently. “You simply clean it up.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“We have cleaned up our relationship. That is a significant start. I love you, Matt. You are an extraordinary big brother.”

“I love you, too. Just don’t ever turn me into confetti.”

“I promise.” Her body relaxed, and her mind eased a bit. And in that state, as the world came back into focus, an idea dawned on her. A question. She lifted from her slumped position in Matt’s arms. Celeste began to brighten, just a touch. “Matthew Watkins,” she said with surprise as an understanding began to seep into her soul.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You had been saving your money…” she began.

“I am a big ol’ cheapskate as you so kindly pointed out during what I remember of our cab ride to the airport.”

“No,” she said emphatically. “No, you are not. Not when it matters. I know you, and I know what you were squirreling away for.” Matt looked decidedly uncomfortable, so she knew she was right. And now she had something to be happy about. “I know what you were saving money for.”

“You do, do you?” He pursed his lips, but she could tell that the thought lifted his spirits.

“You have your hinges, don’t you? You just have to use them. Or it, rather. You have one giant hinge! Matthew!” She was giddy now.

He stared at her. She could see a glint in his eye, but he said, “No. That’s insane.”

“It’s not. It’s perfect. It’s the perfect hinge. This is stupendously exciting!”

He started and stopped a few times. “No… It’s too… I couldn’t possibly… Celeste, that’s too risky.” Then he rocked his head from side to side a few times, mulling it over and then finally letting himself smile. “You think?”

“I do.”

Matt looked down, brushed away a bit of Confetti Finn, and then groaned. “I don’t know…” Eventually he looked her in the eyes. “I’m scared to death.”

“I know.”

“And I should do it anyway?”

“Yes, Matt. It’s your moment to fight. To win this war. And I will help you.”