“I was surprised when I started to feel a little woozy, like when you blow your nose too hard and the room tilts and everything sounds muddled. Mrs. Cuthbert yelled at Shane to step away from me then, a motherly move made by someone who had reason and experience enough to be afraid of her son. She forced me to sit on the floor—I don’t know why they always force traumatized people to sit on the floor—and hold toilet paper she’d grabbed from the upstairs bathroom against my face to ‘staunch the flow’ (I expected to find she’d handed me a tampon) while she called Mr. Cuthbert at the bar who advised we go straight to the hospital.
“Even if she hadn’t called the police, I knew from TV that the ER doctors would have reported the incident to the cops anyway. It’s not like I wanted anything bad to happen to Shane—didn’t care, really—I just wanted it on the record, to keep things straight. It was good that I had some time alone with the social worker to recount all the times Shane pushed me and punched me and yelled at me: a quantifiable record of growing violence. There was even corroboration. Half the school had seen him grab my ankle in gym, and certainly Ryan Lombardi had been worried enough by my little bruises that he regretted not saying something sooner.
“I think it’s beautiful. When a scar heals, it pulls at the rest of your face like it’s clinging to the old skin, as if nostalgic. This morning was hard, I confess. I woke up to itchy stitches, and caught myself about to cry when it all came back to me. Then I heard Mother on the phone arguing with the airline over ‘unforeseeable circumstances’ and demanding a refund on our flight, and I snuggled back under the blankets and realized it was worth every stitch. I will never second-guess myself again.”
The only sound is Liv catching her breath. I have stopped breathing.
“Does it hurt to smile?” I ask, my voice shredded.
“Yes. But I can’t help it.” She grins widely.
I nod at the suitcase. “You’re going somewhere?”
“Yes, right. Those. I’m leaving town. For a hospital in Belmont. A little mental respite. In fact, I thought you were my cab. Mother will follow later, after she drives Crystal home. She was coming anyway, to wish us bon voyage. It all worked out.”
“How did Crystal take it? The public version.”
Liv frowns, crinkling the dressing on her cheek. “Crystal wasn’t really fazed. This is not an unheard-of event in her world. In fact, this very thing happened to her cousin Jessie last year. Except, well. A bit worse. Her boyfriend had a violent history. Unstable,” she adds behind her hand in a stage whisper.
Sing-songy voices and splash sounds trail from the kitchen. My ears start to ring and my vision narrows.
“About Crystal and my mother,” Liv says, stepping closer, smelling of antiseptic. “Remember your promise.”
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say, moving drunkenly past her and squeezing into the tiny downstairs toilet in the back hall. I leave the door open an inch and brace myself over the sink. The voices from the kitchen are clearer from here: Deborah, and a younger voice, notes rising and falling, and a cascade of giggles. A strong vinegar-apple smell. I peek through the crack and see Deborah’s back, arms bowed, blocking most of Crystal, who leans over the sink. Deborah squeezes a pink plastic bottle in a circle over her head.
“You’re going to love it! Your hair will be so pretty and smooth. Try closing your eyes so the fumes don’t bother them.”
I flush the empty toilet bowl and run the water before stepping out, pausing at Crystal’s rush of laughter as Deborah ties her hair in a towel turban and hands her a mirror. “Make believe you’re at a spa. If you’re good, maybe we’ll do your toenails next.”
I stumble past Liv as she calls, “Wait, aren’t you going to say goodbye?” But I don’t stop, because her cab is coming, and Shane is in juvie, waiting for her call, waiting to be told she loves him no matter what, and he is her one true hero, having rescued her in a way Julia never did, and no one can understand that real love hurts, and he will tell her about the visitor’s lounge bathroom at McLean that they can use to be together on visits if he ever gets released, and she will tell him that she will, but she won’t, because she’s done with him.
I pause to breathe in the day. The rain has ended. Much as I hate the rain, the smell that comes after isn’t unpleasant.
Liv’s breath is at my neck. “This is the end, Julia. You have to say goodbye,” she murmurs.
Porch planks groan under my feet as I face her. Liv holds out her arms, and I drop the bag from my shoulder, pressing myself into the brushed weave of her coat, clavicle mashing against a hard button. She squeezes, then shoves me away and holds me, stiff-armed. Her eyes flicker over my face.
“You won’t tell anyone. You’ll keep your promise?”
I wait, considering. “I’ll keep my promise if you tell me one thing. Why did you bring me with you that day in the woods?”
Her cheeks rise with a faint crinkle. “Because I knew if things went bad, you’d save me. The truth is, we’re both brave.”
I touch the tip of my finger to her bandage. “You’re right.”