“Either.”
Thinking it over gives me a little thrill. This is a chance to meet the Others, to be around people without any of the pressure. It’s a chance to practice moving between the worlds too, which might bring me closer to finding Grandmother. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s go. To your version.” He nods, but then something occurs to me. “What if I slip? What if I can’t stay in your world?”
“Then I’ll come find you,” he says.
“What if you can’t?”
He cups the side of my neck. “I’ll find you, Natalie. I promise.”
Maybe it shouldn’t be enough, but it is.
Beau walks me to the front door and kisses me goodbye. When I look back at the house, he’s gone, the windows broken and yard overgrown. I’m slipping back and forth between the two worlds and I don’t even know how. I walk back to the barn and find Dad sitting in his car, staring at the steering wheel.
“Dad?” I say, getting in across from him.
“Foal made it,” he says quietly then starts the car. “Foal made it.”
I touch his elbow. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s life,” he says. “It’s all right, sugar. It’s all right.”
We start to crackle over the driveway. I’m thinking about Grandmother and her warning, about Megan being so far away, about my blowout fight with Matt, and everything else there is to fear in the world. I can get swept away in those things, drown in them for hours, fixate on something like the death of a horse until standing up feels like climbing a volcano I know is about to erupt. “Sometimes the whole world feels like that horse to me,” I say aloud. “Does that make sense? Like everyone’s just groaning and screaming through the pain, hoping something better comes out.”
Dad nods. “It makes sense.” He reaches over and stretches an arm around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head. “I feel that too.”
“The bad things get exhausting,” I say. “Sometimes I just want to be somewhere else.” I can’t explain what I mean, but I imagine a place like outer space. Where nothing exists.
Dad’s eyes soften as we pull onto the road. “Honey, you’re a smart kid, and you’re sensitive too. That’s not a bad thing, but it is a hard thing. For you, the dark’s going to feel a whole lot darker, and you won’t be able to hide from it.” He pauses for a second then goes on. “But I want you to listen to me. Listen good.”
It sounds like something Grandmother would say.
“You don’t know everything,” he says softly. “Not yet you don’t. And when you see those good things—and I promise you, there are so many good things—they’re going to be so much brighter for you than they are for other people, just like the abyss seems deeper and bigger when you stare at it. If you stick it out, it’s all going to feel worth it in the end. Every moment you live, every darkness you face, they’ll all feel worth it when you’re staring light in the face. Okay?”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “How do you know?”
He smiles and rustles my hair. “Because you’re like me. And when you came home with us, everything changed. I saw my whole life for what it had really been, and even though I was goddam terrified of all the things that could happen to you, when I looked at you it was like all the bad things had been a dream, and I was finally waking up. That’s how I know, sugar cube. This is only the beginning. If you want the good, you can’t give up.”
19
“I think it’s great that you’re going to Derek’s party,” Mom says from the doorway as she slips on her dangling earrings.
“Really? Great?” I say. “Have you met Derek?”
She purses her lips. “Admittedly, he’s not my favorite of your friends. But I know how hard it’s been for you being apart from Megan, and growing apart from Matt. You only have a couple more weeks here before vacation, and then you’re pretty much off to Brown.” Mom looks wistful despite her best attempts at tranquility. The summer trip always has this effect on her. It’s the one time of year where everyone’s happy and connected and engaged simultaneously, and that’s because she carefully plans it that way. This year, with Brown looming, the trip feels different, like we’re planning one last hurrah before our family splinters. “You should take advantage of that time,” Mom says.
“You want me to get wasted.”
“Natalie,” Mom says, touching her hand to her chest. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Kidding,” I say.
“Will there be drinking at the party?” she says, suddenly worried.
“No,” I lie, trying to keep my eyes from flicking sideways.
Mom grabs a pump of hand lotion from the bottle on the top of my desk and rubs her palms together. “If you need a ride home, you know you can call, right? I’d always rather you were safe.”