“He’s coming along.”
“Yesterday was tough.”
“I sure miss seeing you around here, Ember. You should stop up and see the center again soon.”
Each time David has offered something about Bo it’s been at the end of our conversation, allowing me to deliver a polite “goodbye” without addressing his information. He hasn’t said anything in a while. I try not to think about why.
I wander through the flower shop as Monica talks about ribbons with the florist, inhaling hydrangeas as I think about Bo’s music. I hope he’s still playing.
“How about this ribbon, Ember?”
“It’s great, Mon.” I smile.
“OK, one more time with you actually looking at it.” I hear her rolling her eyes.
“Sorry,” I laugh, “let’s see. I love the champagne-colored one.”
“Awesome. Maybe you’ll be the one to catch it.” She winks and shares some sort of private laugh with the florist. I stick my tongue out at her.
“I plan on hiding in the bathroom during that whole spectacle.”
After Monica finalizes her order, we drive her back to her apartment.
Monica starts to fidget. “So,” she asks nervously, “still no word, huh?” Monica tries not to ask about Bo too often. She fails, beautifully.
“You say still as if I’ve been waiting around for him.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just...you are doingso well, I—”
“Spit it out, Mon.”
“I just wonder what it would be like if he...showed up.”
Hope. Her words surge hope through me and it tugs a cautious smile across my lips. I take a deep breath.
“It would be ...”
Monica places her head on my leg. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bo
I park in front of the tiny brick building and double-check the sign on the door.
Delta Blue. This is it.
I called earlier today to see when their open-mic acts go on. She won’t go first—she doesn’t like that—but I get here in time, just in case. I don’t think I’m ready to see her face-to-face yet. Dr. Brown says I shouldn’t feel shitty about the way I suspended things with us, but I do. Neither one of us wanted her to leave that day.
My days since then have gone back and forth between being a total mess and being functional. I still haven’t gone into Rae’s room. I opened the door once—the day Ember left—but I slammed it shut and haven’t been back since. It was too much, seeing her stuff just...there, and knowing she wouldn’t be. Anymore. Aside from the absolute fucking hole my baby sister’s death has left, anger has become a dangerous ally.
I haven’t been drinking away my emotions like I thought I might. I couldn’t do it after I saw Ember had gone through the trouble of putting all the liquor in my house into a box on the back porch. She knew. Instead, I broke things. And punched things. A lot of things. Ember and I were both better off with her leaving that day. She didn’t need to see some of the ugly shit the last few months have brought me.
Sneaking in a side door, I pull the brim of my Bruins hat down a bit as I scan the room. She’s not at the bar, so I slide onto a stool, order a beer, and continue my visual hunt. I just want to see that she’s good. Ember lost a lot of weight early in the summer, and then after Rae died, the life just drained from her eyes. God, “Rae died” rolls off my mind’s tongue so easily some days.
There she is.
Ember’s sitting at a table right in front of the stage, slowly tracing the rim of her wine glass with her middle finger. Christ, she looks amazing—better than ever. She seems to have put back on the weight she lost. I can’t see her shoulder blades from across the bar like I would have been able to three months ago. Her auburn waves shine past her shoulders—her newly muscular shoulders.
I can’t believe it’s been three months.
Just when I think she’s about to turn around and spot me, the MC steps up to the mic to introduce the first act. The lights dim, and for the first three acts I stare at no one but her. She sways to the music and claps enthusiastically for people she’s clearly come to know over the last several weeks—that’s how long Josh tells me she’s been playing here.
I waited until I couldn’t take it anymore before giving in and calling Josh, fishing for information. I know David talks to her a couple times a week, but I made it clear that I didn’t want to go there with him. All Josh would tell me is that she was doing better. That I can see, as those gorgeous emeralds she calls eyes shine through everyone she speaks with. The MC approaches the mic once more.
“And now, for the last act of the night, November Blue.”