“Probably would’ve been better off if you burned it before you read it.”
All the memories of Bee flash through my head at once. If I hadn’t of read it when I did, none of those things would’ve ever happened. I wouldn’t be able to touch Burn, now, if I didn’t read that essay before. Holding her in the garage, the skydiving, the ride in the back of Burn’s car with our hands intertwined, lying on her lap, watching her punch Mark and feeling like somehow, someway, even a bit, I’d been avenged. Her laugh face. Her smiling face. Her worried face. All of it. Even now, even hurt and confused, I hold onto what’s left of her with perfect, crystal clarity.
A loud knocking on my door shakes me out of my memories. I think it’s Dad, but then I hear Fitz’s voice.
“Open up! Guys! Open up!”
Fitz hadn’t come out of his room, except to go to school. And now he wanted in all of a sudden? Burn crosses over to the door and opens it, Fitz barging in, holding up a piece of paper.
“Look!” He shoves it in my face instantly. I try to ignore his disheveled clothes, the hungry look in his cheeks. He hadn’t been eating much.
The paper is freshly printed, still a little warm. It’s a few awful stick figures. Except then I realize the stick figures are of us; Burn, looking sleepy, Fitz, hacking at a computer, and then me, on my motorcycle, looking angry. It’s poorly drawn, but I can see a bit of an endearing charm to it.
“What is this?” I ask.
“She left it for me!” Fitz says breathlessly. “At first I thought it was a trash file, but it was on her desktop, so I thought that was weird, and then that was hexadecimal that said there was another one hidden in her root directory, and that one led to the settings of her Paint program –”
“Who is ‘she’?” Burn asks. “Did you hack someone’s computer?”
“Bee!” Fitz explodes. “I was just messing around, and I thought maybe she kept a diary or something on her computer, something that would explain things better, but then I found this, and she left it for me! Isn’t it cute? There’s you, and Wolf, and there’s me, and I’m obviously the best –”
Fitz blabbers on about how many layers of files he need to sift through to find it, like she’d set up some sort of game for him. Of course he likes it – he’s liked these sorts of treasure hunts since he was a kid.
“She left me the keychain,” Burn muses. “And Fitz the picture. So what did she leave you?”
My heart squeezes, but I force a scoff. “Nothing. I don’t want anything from her.”
“Except a kiss,” Fitz taunts, and I’d blow up at him, normally. But hearing him tease me again after he hadn’t for so long feels good.
“What’s this?” Burn reaches into the trash can, and pulls out a felt ring box. He holds it up to me, and I shrug.
“Mr. Finch said someone told him to give it to me.”
Burn and Fitz’s eyes lit up, and I rolled mine.
“No, it isn’t what you’re thinking. Amanda always tries to buy me rings. It’s just her, again.”
“Why would she give it to Finch to give to you?”
“So I’d actually be forced to accept it this time,” I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Did you even open it?” Fitz asks.
“No. There’s no point.”
Burn opens it, and his face goes flat. He holds it out to me.
“Open it.”
“I told you, it’s just a piece of bribery from Aman –”
“Now.” Burn insists, hard.
Glaring, I pull the lid open slowly. Inside is a tasteful silver ring, carved with a wolf’s head. It’s vintage – the silver a little dull on the edges, nothing like the shiny new tacky ones Amanda gets me. The wolf motif is thoughtful, deliberate. It can’t be.
I told her I feel safer with more rings.
It can’t be.
Fitz’s loud voice suddenly rings over my shoulder. “Wow! Look at that ancient, impoverished-looking thing! That’s definitely from Bee.”
I’m silent. Burn clears his throat.
“You okay?”
I’m far from okay. I want to hear her voice, to drive to her house again and ask her to come out. I want to see her walking down the stairs to me, to see her outline, her shoulders, the curve of her face. My confusion and sadness might still burn in me, but nothing burns as hot as my desire to touch her. If it was the last time, I’d savor it. If I had known that night on her lap was the last time, I would’ve stayed longer. I would’ve told her how I really felt, instead of running away like a coward.
We both made mistakes, she and I. I more than her.
But it’s too late.
We’ve said our goodbyes, no matter how bittersweet they were.
****
BEATRIX
“Thanks for coming!” I wave at the old lady leaving the coffee shop. I blow out a puff of stress-air, adjusting my apron ties. God, it’s been a long day. But I can’t relax just yet – I’ve got another half-hour to get through before my shift’s up. I need to leave right on time today – I’m worried about Dad. He promised he’d take his meds today, but last night he’d taken three instead of the regular two. Maybe it was a slip of the hand, but my gut nags at me that it could be intentional, too. That he’s trying to hurt himself again.
“Well hi there, dollface.”
I look up at the voice to see Wolf. My insides soar, suddenly in zero-g. What is he doing here? How did he find me at my work? Why isn’t he pissed at me -
I blink – no, it isn’t Wolf. It’s a dark-haired guy, probably college-aged, smiling at me. He’s very handsome, in that thick-browed way. At a glance he could be Wolf. But only at a glance. As if Wolf would ever call me by a petname.
As if he’d ever speak to me again.
The fact it’s some rando calling me ‘dollface’ makes me want to barf, but I put on my best barista face and smile.
“What can I get you?”
“A small mocha late, and your number.”
I laugh nervously and decide to be polite. “Well, I can get you one of those things.”