“You’re worried,” I said dully, pulling on the cigarette. Smoking to the filter.
“Yeah, you’ve been completely AWOL for weeks. You never come by anymore. When you’re here, you don’t talk to anyone. What’s up? I know I can be a bit of a dickhead, but you can talk to me, man. We’re friends.”
Friends.
Lies.
“Sure,” I muttered, the cigarette still smoldered but the smoke was gone.
“Is it Layna? Are you two having problems?” Tate asked.
Problems?
All we had were problems.
“I’m going away, Elian. I’m leaving and never coming back.”
I stared at my sister and saw a stranger. I didn’t know this girl with her angry face and hateful words.
I had lost her a long time ago.
“Then leave, Amelia. Just stop making everyone miserable,” I yelled. Not caring. I didn’t care at all. I was twelve. Time together was infinite. Ending wasn’t possible.
Amelia looked shocked. Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away. Smearing them on her fingertips. Crushing them dead.
“Fine, I will! He’s promised me a new life! A better one! He’s going to make me a star!” she screeched, and I just wanted her to stop.
Ring around a rosy…
We weren’t children anymore. Our pockets weren’t full of posies.
“Don’t talk about her,” I warned. Meaning it. I hated the sound of Layna’s name on his lips.
“That’s what I’m saying, dude. You’re—weird—about her. I’ve never seen you like this before. And I’ve known you for a long time.”
No he hadn’t. He hadn’t known me nearly long enough.
“You don’t know me at all, Tate,” I said, being the most honest I had ever been with him.
Tate looked stricken. Like he didn’t know what to say. I should feel bad. I should feel horrible. And I knew the guilt would come.
It always did. I felt it for a thousand different things. Some more deserving than others.
And I didn’t want to hurt the people I had called friends.
“I’m his daughter. He’s my father. We are one and the same.” Layna’s eyes, sad and resigned.
Father. Daughter. The same.
They weren’t. I knew that. I could see how much she didn’t want that to be true.
The star. Burning in my mind. The last time that I saw Amelia.
The first time that I saw Layna.
“Elian? Are you listening?”
“Huh?” I blinked. Back to the present. Back to the now.
“I asked if you wanted to come over to watch the game tonight. Just the gang. I think it would be good for you,” Tate dropped the cigar on the ground. It smoked and charred.
“He’s my father, Elian.”
“You don’t know what the hell is good for me. Don’t pretend to,” I snarled. Suddenly angry.
I couldn’t deal.
I couldn’t handle any of this.
I needed to run.
To her.
Tate held his hands up. Backing off instantly. I knew in that moment that our friendship was over. This was his last entreaty. His last effort made.
I felt the pinch of regret. Small. But there all the same.
My head hummed, and my heart was full.
Of other things.
I walked away.
Away from Elian Beyer.
Towards Elian James.
“Her name was Amelia. Amelia James.”
“James?” I asked. I wondered.
I already knew.
“That’s her last name. My last name.”
Elian worked at his bottom lip with his teeth. They were cracked open. Painful. Stretched too thin.
He was a wreck. An emotional catastrophe. The laid back, easygoing man I met at Denny’s was gone.
His mask had finally broken.
Slivers and jagged edges.
He was only the truth.
The bitter, bitter truth.
It was good to see.
Inside I sang.
“Your last name isn’t Beyer,” I stated. I didn’t ask. I didn’t have to.
I knew.
Elian had his hand wrapped around my wrist. He didn’t pull me closer. He didn’t kiss or cuddle. But his iron grip never weakened. He held me as though I were going to run.
Or he was.
As if I’d let him.
Being at Elian’s house by the quarry had become something akin to sanctuary. The solitude was at times unbearable.
At others it was euphoric.