I can respect her feelings.
“I’m going to my exam. See you tonight?”
Turning to meet my eyes, she reminds me of Kane. Dead eyes. Glittery with rage, but dead all the same.
Sheunmutes the TV. “Okay. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” I move across the small room and crawl onto her bed. Just for a second. Just for a hug. Lying behind her, I bring my knees up to tuck them together, then I close my eyes and pretend I’m spooning someone else.
“I love you, Jess.” She pulls my arm around to her stomach. “You’re my favorite person on this planet.”
I let out a watery laugh and press a kiss to her shoulder blade. Squeezing my eyes shut, I absorb the feeling of a tear sliding along my nose. “Thank you, Baby. Sleep good today, okay? I won’t tell you to go out and see the sun. I won’t shame you for grieving.”
She nods and tucks her chin to her chest. “Thank you.”
“Twins for life. Catch you tonight. The guys wanna get drunk, but I don’t wanna. Maybe you and I can go see Dolly. She’ll drink with us. She’ll tell us stories of all the men she bedded in Tijuana during spring break, and she won’t tell us to buck up.”
Laine simply nods.
With a nod of my own, I crawl off her bed and head back into the hall. My family whisper between themselves. Angry whispers between Luc and Alex.
We can’t.
She’s not ready.
He can’t.
She’ll freak the fuck out!
As soon as I reenter the living room, the four of them break apart and almost trip on each other in an attempt to act casual. Alex slams his head on an overhead lamp. Luc bites his knuckles, but it’s not in the way he normally does to conceal a joke. It’s simply his way of not saying something stupid.
Jules stands with her cell in her hand, and Kari watches me with pale cheeks.
But I don’t have the energy for another reunion at the door. Picking up my bag, I swing out the front door and head toward my car, and on the way, I take out my cell and open it to the message at the very top.
Al.
His name’s always at the top, because I text him more now than I ever did when he was alive. I use his disconnected service as adear diaryof sorts. Who knows; maybe there’s an afterlife. Maybe he sees my texts. Maybe he’s cheering me on.
Me:It’s time for my exams now.
Me:Last one.
Me:Wish me luck.
Me:I love you. I wish you were here.
Within twenty minutes of leaving my house, I drop my bag and cell into a safety box and take my seat at one of the exam tables. Without my cell, without my bag that contains his files, I’m left naked but for the scar on my ribs.
It’s been this way for the last two days.
Naked but for my scar.
This must be how people feel when they tattoo all the important things on their skin. Because when you’re stripped down and everything is taken from you, your skin remains, and scars are all you have left.
Irony, I think, considering the life I now live.
There’s nothing left, just a scarred heart. A heart that refuses to stop beating, no matter how much I wish it would.