“Yeah, they’ve been together for ages. Kind of like you and Duck.”
All of a sudden, a memory I had forgotten came back to me, sharp and piercing. It must have been about a year ago. I was standing in line behind Ana at the library. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but when she went to remove her borrowing card, I caught sight of a photo behind the plastic film of her wallet. “Who’s that?” I had asked casually. “Just my boyfriend, Rad,” she had shrugged, removing the photograph and handing it to me. “Isn’t he dreamy?” My eyes had fallen on the monochromatic portrait of a boy standing against a seaside setting, with dark windswept hair and brows softly knitted as though the camera had caught him by surprise. I realized with a sinking feeling that it was the same boy who was now speaking to Lucy and Freddy across the room.
As though sensing he was being watched, Rad looked over, and for one brief moment, our eyes locked. He attempted a half smile—it looked more like a grimace—before turning his attention back to Lucy, who reached out and put her hand on his arm. A few moments later, Freddy and Lucy made their way over to us as Rad strode out of the room.
“How is he?” asked Candela.
“Not good,” said Freddy, with a shake of his head. It was weird seeing Freddy in a suit. He was always in some quirky getup—checked shirts and contrasting ties, Vans with bold floral patterns. He wore black Buddy Holly glasses that teetered at the edge of his nose, and he was always pushing them up again.
“Poor thing,” said Lucy, shaking her head. “He must be going through hell.”
The air seemed to grow thicker all of a sudden, and I stood up quickly. Candela’s eyes darted upward.
“Are you okay, Audrey?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, “I just need some air.”
I stumbled out onto the back porch a little unsteadily and clung to the wrought iron balustrade, my breathing quick and ragged.
“Are you all right?” came a voice from behind me. I looked back, startled. Rad was sitting on a swinging chair that creaked softly as it swung gently back and forth. He dug his shoes into the ground and walked toward me, a look of concern crossing his face.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Ana is dead because of me. The words flashed unbidden through my mind, and my body gave an involuntary shudder. Rad stood there for a minute or so, his gaze fixed steadily on me. It was the first time we had ever stood face-to-face, and I noticed that the color of his eyes didn’t quite match. One was a stormy gray, the other a summer blue.
“Do you want a glass of water?” he asked.
“No, thanks,” I said. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, and the sharp pain gave my mind a much-needed diversion. We stood like that for a while, until my breathing began to steady. Rad looked relieved.
“Did you go to school with Ana?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Were you close to her?”
“No,” I said. “Not really.”
He turned away from me, looking skyward and sighing deeply.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Do you believe in heaven?”
I looked at him, a little taken aback.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully, with a small shake of my head. “I believe there is something, though.”
“How do you know for sure?” he asked.
“It’s a feeling, I suppose.”
“A feeling?”
“Yeah, kind of like . . .” I paused, searching for the right word. “Like intuition,” I said finally.
He nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”
He was quiet for a few moments, and then he turned to look at me, his eyes level with mine.
“What about hell?”
I felt my heart seize in my chest. For one irrational moment, I thought, He knows about the lie. But then I realized it was just my own paranoia.
“Yes,” I said, thinking back to my panic attack the other night. “I believe there’s a hell.”
There was a loud crash that came from inside the house, and we turned our heads in unison.
“What was that?” asked Rad.
“I don’t know. We should go back inside.”
The living room was a mess. The table was overturned, and there were plates of food scattered across the floor. Ana’s dad was standing amidst the chaos, one hand cradled protectively over his left cheek, a trickle of blood running from the side of his mouth. Everyone watched in stunned silence as Ana’s uncle stood with his fist partly raised, his face twisted with rage.
“You sick fuck!” he snarled. “She was a child, for Chrissake!” He was about to throw another punch when Ana’s mother pulled him back.
“Stop it!” she screamed, stepping between them.
“Why didn’t you stop him, Mia?” he said spinning around to face her. “You must have known what was going on.”
She shook her head helplessly. “I didn’t know,” she whispered.
Ana’s dad turned to face her, his eyes filled with despair. “Mia,” he said helplessly. “You know I never touched our daughter—”
She shook her head in disgust. “Don’t you dare talk to me,” she hissed, before turning on her heel and striding away.
There was a tense silence in the room, broken only when someone began to pick up the shattered plates. Quiet murmurs floated from all directions as Ana’s mother was led up the stairs by a pair of somber-faced relatives. With his head bowed and averted from everyone’s gaze, Ana’s dad turned and left the room.
I glanced at Rad and knew that the look of horror on his face mirrored my own—although for different reasons.
“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered under his breath.
Outside, the sky was a dark, moody blue. There was a strip of orange along the horizon, one rolling spark of flame the impending night would soon extinguish.
“Want to go for a drive?” asked Rad.
“Okay.”
We walked to his car, a white sedan, which was parked across the street. I got into the passenger seat. There was a small tear in the upholstery, and I ran my fingers over it, thinking about the countless number of times Ana must have sat there. A flash of guilt opened me up like a fresh, gaping wound.
Rad got into the driver’s seat beside me and shut the door behind him. The silence between us was comfortable despite the strange turn of events that led us there. As we pulled away from the curb, I turned my head back for one last look at Ana’s house and could just barely make out her dad sitting bent over on the porch step, the light from the end of his cigarette glowing pitifully against the graying sky.
“Are you hungry?” asked Rad. We had been driving aimlessly for the last ten minutes through the suburban streets. We barely said a word the whole time, but it was a companionable silence.
“A little,” I admitted. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate.
“There’s a burger place nearby called Alfie’s Kitchen. Have you heard of it?”
I shook my head. “No.”