At the sound of pain in his soft words, I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my cheek against his chest so I can hear his heartbeat.
“Sometimes things are taken from us and it seems like too much,” I whisper. “Way too much.” My own chest tightens with the memory of my mother, and the violent want of her that I still feel. That I will always feel. “I’ve felt the total opposite of what you said. Like I didn’t want any of it. I’ve felt like that before, and when you left,” I whisper. “I still feel that way at certain times. But I think you’re right, that it’s not possible to really live like that. You could exist like that.”
“I know.” He spreads his hand out on my back.
“I want to live,” I say. “And I think you do, too.”
I look up at his face, the face I love, the face I loved the first time my glasses settled on my face beside his pool, when I was dripping wet and crying. And I know I have to say it back. Even though I don’t want to. Even though I don’t feel amor fati. I’m scared, and there’s a part of me that wants to run.
I say, “I love you too.”
I watch him work his jaw and watch his eyes as tears gleam in them.
“I won’t disappoint you, Am. One day, I’m gonna tell you everything.”
“Everything there is to know about Dash Frasier?”
“Everything there is to know,” he says softly.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
And so it is amor fati that stops us as we walk out of the woods. As if the universe is saying “No more waiting. This is happening right now.”
Dash
August 2011
I want to tell her, so damn much. All night at the lake, I want to tell Amelia. So she understands. So she knows that I would never decide not to write or call her. Not calling my sister this year made me feel like an asshole, but not talking to Amelia made me feel like I was dead. I still feel like that. Like the Dash I used to be is gone, and I’m someone different. Someone who can’t stay in Sandy Springs for longer than a day or two. Someone who can never love Amelia Frank.
When she finds me in the bathroom with my pants down, I’m not that surprised. It feels inevitable. I’m surprised to find that I feel pissed off that she’s at the party. That I want to strangle her date. That I want to pick her up and carry her away and lock her up like a princess in a tower. If I can’t have Amelia, no one can.
And then I can’t even hold myself to that.
Why can’t I have Ammy?
Just for one night…
I’m not strong. I can’t keep my hands and mouth off her. I know what the stakes are, but I’m not being logical. I’m just doing what I want for fucking once, and when I’m inside Ammy, I feel like I can breathe.
I tell her that I’m thinking about leaving school. I don’t tell her the truth about why. I tell her all about my time in Providence. I tell her I missed her, and when I make my confession, the stars feel like they fell back into orbit.
This is right.
Maybe it’s wrong in other ways. Maybe it’s fucked up. But it’s right for me, and I’ve been unhappy for so long, I put myself first.
Like a fool.
Because, sometime around sunrise, my sister texts.
‘Stopped by the house to get some fresh clothes. Why is Manda at our house? She said she’s waiting for you?’
Twenty-Three
Amelia
When I first spot my ex-stepmother standing on the Frasiers’ lawn, at first I just blink at her. She’s like a character in the wrong set. I can’t, for the life of me, think why she would be here—until I remember that Dad’s secretary, Kylie, told me in an email that she’d heard Manda had re-purchased our old house.
Last time I saw Manda was at the courthouse with my dad, that day I told her off, so I’m not pleased to see her now. Especially not right now.
I’m waiting for eye contact, so it takes me a few seconds to realize she’s not giving that to me. She’s watching Dash.
She’s got her dark blonde hair pulled into a tight pony-tail, and she’s wearing more eye makeup than I’ve ever seen her in—as well as lipstick. Weird, magenta lipstick that makes her look like an actress in Rocky Horror. She’s also wearing a pink…robe?
She shifts her weight, and I realize yes—I’m seeing spandex as the robe parts slightly in the front. She’s got a royal blue one-piece on, and for some reason, she’s wearing a bath robe over it.
A few seconds looking at Manda, and I can tell there’s something off about her. Her face, which used to be classically pretty, is not just older now, but bloated. Her eyes are red, and her lips look puffy and chapped. Manda is a former gymnast, so she usually looks elegant, but with one arm folded over her belly and the other reaching slightly out in front of her, right now she looks strange in a way I can’t make sense of.
“I saw your car,” she says to Dash, and I realize she must be making a point by refusing to look at me. “I just had to come over and tell you I’m so sorry for your sister. That girl never could get her head screwed on straight. She was always trouble. I thought you had her straightened out.”
I stop because I realize that I’m yanking on dead weight. I’ve got Dash by the hand, but he’s not moving. I turn back and find him frozen, looking aghast.
Fury kicks through me, and I turn toward Manda. “What are you talking about, Manda? Lexie wasn’t trouble. Who the hell are you to say something like that?” In addition to her extreme cheating—with creepishly young guys, mind you—Manda always had a fondness for booze and pills herself, so who is she to judge Lex?
I squeeze Dash’s hand. “I think you’ve said enough. We’d like some privacy now, please.”
Manda throws her head back, laughing. “Oh, you would?” Her voice is low and hoarse.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Drinking?” She shakes her head, looking amused and smug. “I’m going to need a drink!”
I tug on Dash’s arm, as if to say let’s keep walking. He doesn’t move, so I turn fully to face him.
“Dash?” He looks like a statue, one carved out of alabaster.
He blinks slowly at me, seeming to wake up a little. He shifts his gaze to Manda. “Nice to see you, Amanda. I hope you’ve been doing well.”
Amanda?
“Always. Always, my boy. I’m very happy in the house again. I’m soon to be remarried.”
I watch in shock as Dash nods robotically and gives my ex-stepmom a strange, stiff sort of smile. “Congratulations.”
Why does he seem so…concerned with her? And why does she keep staring at him like that?
“Thank you, Dash. It pleases me to know you’re happy for me.”
“Of course.”
I give Dash’s arm another tug, because like, why? There’s no reason to drag this out—Manda is crazy, and I hate her. I don’t think Dash should have to worry about niceties at a time like this, even if it does look like Manda has some kind of weird interest in him.
I’m confused when he still doesn’t move. When I glance at him again and find him stone-still, staring at Manda.