Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(69)
Of course she’s talking about school. I lean back on my heels and heave a sigh. After everything that’s happened today, all the revelations that are flying in circles within my head and cackling like witches on brooms, it’s more obvious than ever before that I don’t know what’s right or wrong. What I do know is that Revenge is at the end of my story.
So instead of offering an explanation, I sit down beside her. Overhead, clouds drift across the sky with a detachment that I envy. My mind flashes back to when Briana and I were kids lying in the grass, staring up at them and claiming the fluffy whiteness resembled a train or a flower or a heart. We were both so innocent, so free. The girl sitting beside me now is someone I barely recognize. How did I miss this pain, this struggle?
Because you were so focused on your own, that vicious voice answers.
Shame kneels before us, gripping my ankle. His baby face is pointed to the ground, where he isn’t forced to see what it means to realize your own shortcomings or how much you’ve disappointed. It occurs to me yet again that I don’t deserve someone like Briana Brinkman. She’s still waiting for me to respond, and I curse all my inadequacies. If I could make one wish right now, it would be having those perfect words on the tip of my tongue. Not to take away the battles or the wounds—we need them to make us strong.
This isn’t a place where wishes come true, though, and Briana stops waiting for me. “You’re not the only one suffering, Alex,” she says.
Finally I speak. “I know.”
Watching me, Briana’s voice softens. As always, she sees my own struggles. “I still love you.” Her shoulder bumps mine, and it must be true, since Love appears. Usually I don’t let myself look at her too closely, but in this moment it’s unavoidable. The Emotion is so beautiful it’s difficult to breathe. With a single graceful movement, she bends and kisses first my temple, then Briana’s. The images come. An old couple in a garden, their wrinkled hands brushing as they pack the earth down around a seed. Two children beneath a blanket, giggling as they make finger shadows on the lamp-lit wall. A woman cradling a baby so young its countenance is still pink and scrunched.
“Why?” I sigh, knowing it would be easier if one of us let go.
She tilts her head. “Even though it can be hopeless, or unhealthy, or just stupid—we love anyway. Because that’s what love is. Choosing to give it, especially when you shouldn’t.”
The way she puts it resonates with me. The idea that love is a choice. In my mind, it was something so inevitable, burning bright and hot until only ashes are left. That was just another lie. After a moment I say, “Your parents will come around, Bri.”
Pause. Then she laughs. It’s a sound made entirely of knives and razors. “No one comes out of the closet in Franklin, Alex. You know that. We’re not as progressive as the rest of the world. We still play Elvis every day, for God’s sake. Girls like me and Rachel Porter are either ignored or treated like dirt.”
Now she sounds like me, and that’s more frightening than making a choice or voicing what I’m really feeling. What was it Forgiveness said? As if I could forget. “Our worlds are so small,” I murmur. I wonder if we can ever find our way back to those girls who studied the clouds.
“I have to go home. I’ll talk to you … well, guess I won’t be seeing you in school anymore, huh?” With that, Briana gets up and walks to her car. Once again I commit everything to memory. How she always moves like a dancer, the way her hair brushes the tips of her shoulders. Her frame is so short and thin, I worry that a gust of wind will blow her over or whisk her into that looming sky. Then she’s getting in the car, the engine is rolling over, and she’s driving away. Gone. Maybe I should have tried to stop her … but what good is trying to stop someone when they’re determined to go?
The smell of grease suddenly permeates the air. I blink and Guilt towers over me. She extends her dirty fingers toward my face. It already feels like someone has rubbed me raw through my skin and under my bones, right to my soul. “No, don’t touch me! Don’t!” I cry. Without thinking, I jump up and stumble down the sidewalk. Guilt appears in front of me with a wolfish grin. Recoiling, I slam against the window of Saul’s shop. She comes near again, running the back of her knuckles along my jaw. Her breath makes me retch. Immediately remorse consumes me in every possible way. For my weakness, my cowardice, my selfishness. The memory of what I did to Jennifer Foster crowds as close as an Emotion. Briana’s expression when I didn’t reassure her that I would survive this. The lines deepening beneath Missy’s eyes every day. The sound of Saul’s fraught piano playing.
And the look in Forgiveness’s eyes when I made it clear who I would choose.
A new scent combines with Guilt’s, this one rich, cloying, tempting. Just like him. It’s the oddest combination, chocolate and lard. Revenge says something to Guilt, low and sharp, and a moment later we’re alone. When I don’t move or react, he says my name. Stricken, I stay where I am. He stands in front of me, stooping to peer into my eyes. “Alex.”
“Don’t,” I repeat, softly this time. This isn’t something Revenge would understand. I’m not sure he even knows what guilt is. My fingers press against the window behind me, and it feels as if this single sheet of glass is the only thing keeping me upright.
He frowns. “Okay.”