Space (Laws of Physics #2)(3)

“Yes—” Gabby sniffed, swiping at her eyes “—if Mona keeps her promise and I’m taking her to the airport, I’ll wait for her.” Walking to the door, she said to Lisa, “But if she tells Abram the truth, then I’ll wait for you and I’ll take you home with me. I don’t know how my parents will react, but I don’t care.”

Maybe Gabby didn’t think her words made an impact on me, but they did. She was willing to do whatever it took to keep Lisa safe, whereas I was not. Fact.

And I believed her about Abram. Rather, I believed she believed what she was saying. Also fact.

But I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think. I was lost. So lost. The logical path forward had been erased by my stupidity. Now, no matter what I did, I was making the wrong decision.

Did I tell Abram the truth? How could I? Even if I was convinced he wouldn’t hate me, that what was happening between us was real, Gabby believed he would tell our parents the truth.

Did I leave now, like Gabby wanted? I would never see him again. But this was not a shock. I’d been preparing for this all week.

So why does it feel like the end of the world?

“Mona.” Lisa had claimed her seat on the bed again and only hesitated for a second before grabbing my hands and cradling them; her fingers were freezing. “It’s clear you’ve been through a lot this week.”

I huffed a bitter laugh, abruptly angry with myself. “I’ve been through a lot? Lisa, you’ve been in jail.”

“Yes. But that was my fault.”

“That wasn’t your fault.” I gripped her hands tighter, willing them to be warmer. “That was Tyler.”

“I chose Tyler. I lied about being with him. That was my decision. This, none of this, is your fault. And you—” She took a deep breath, her eyes dropping to our hands, like she couldn’t look at me and say this next part. “You need to do what you think is right. But you also need to know that, no matter what, I won’t be mad. You are my sister and I love you. I can’t lose you again, and . . . I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

This last part she said brokenly, tears finally falling. My imperturbable sister was crying. And not just quiet weeping. Massive, body-wracking sobs. My heart bled for her, for she was the other part of myself.

Pulling Lisa into my arms, I held her. I rocked her. I told her how much I loved her. I pet her hair and promised to always take care of her, because the path had revealed itself and I knew the answer.

I knew what I had to do.





*Abram*





Reaching for Lisa, my hand encountered only a cold, vacant couch. I’d hoped to find her next to me, to curl myself around her. But she wasn’t there.

Opening my eyes, blinking at the darkness, I listened for a sign of her presence. A ballooning disappointment deflated hope. When it was clear she wasn’t anywhere close, I flexed my jaw, stood from the sofa, and stretched while yawning. Discontented. Frustrated. She was gone, she’d taken her sweet softness, and—

Gone, and she took all softness with her.

Gone, and emptiness takes shape.

Gone, and summer is winter.

Gone, and… And?

Cassette tape? Fate? Concord grape?

Scowling for many reasons, I pushed the hair out of my eyes and left the dark theater in search of my lyric book, a toothbrush, and the exceptional woman constantly on my mind.

I wouldn’t use “fate” to end the fourth line of this new stanza, and obviously not “concord grape.” The first part was useable—her/winter wasn’t a textbook rhyme, but that only made it more perfect—yet I couldn’t work out what word to use with shape.

Gone, and I browse the internet using Netscape? No.

Gone, and where did I put that videotape? No, but it made me grin.

Gone, and something about a great ape? Ha ha!

Great ape. Funny. Perhaps I was the ape? . . . worth considering.

Stopping by the basement bathroom, I brushed my teeth and splashed my face with water. This was my usual waking-up routine, whenever I might wake up: absentmindedly going through the motions while words played musical chairs in my mind. Since agreeing to house-sit for Leo’s parents, I’d been sleeping mostly in the recording studio on the couch. That’s where all my lyric notebooks were as well as my guitars.

Before Lisa came, I’d found it was easier to write while in the studio, trying and testing lyrics with background accompaniment via the soundboard. But now that she was here, writing music, poetry, lyrics had been just like sharing her company: effortless.

Gone, and she took all softness with her.

Gone, and empty (or emptiness?) takes a shape. . .

Shape. What else rhymes with shape? My priority was to capture this feeling, that moment upon waking, discovered loss or whatever it was.

I wouldn’t force it. If I had to force the words, then they were a lie. Studying words had been a compulsion of mine from a young age. I collected and hoarded them. I thought about how to assemble and arrange them to communicate the most truth in the least amount of syllables. I treasured them when they were real just as much as I reviled them when they were false.

Because of this, I wouldn’t force the missing line, and I was certain I wouldn’t need to. With Lisa here, the right ones would come to me.

I miss her.