We Were Never Here(58)
I sighed. “It was different after Cambodia.”
She tilted her head, listening.
“It was awful, but with enough time—and your help, obviously—I could kind of put it in a box and go back to my old life. I could stop thinking about it all the time, I wasn’t…reminded of it or anything. And I didn’t have anyone to…” I trailed off.
Her eyes widened. “What? Go on, then.”
I shook my head. How could I explain it? I wanted to let my guard down around Aaron, but I felt the secret cutting through our fledgling relationship like a sickle through grain. A pang of self-disgust followed: how gross, thinking that having a boyfriend made me a better person than her. More eager to be authentic.
Her eyes turned red and filled with tears. “I risked everything for you. When I saw you needed help in that hotel room in Cambodia, I didn’t even think—I just acted, because you’re my best friend.”
It hung between us, and she didn’t need to say the rest: I saved your life—I killed for you—and this is how you repay me?
“I told myself you’d do the same for me,” she said, her voice low. “But I thought it’d never happen to me—I’d never be attacked, no guy would ever try to hurt me. And then when it did, in Chile…I wish I could take it all back, Em, I do. But I thought we were in this together.”
I started to cry too. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I just wish we could tell someone.”
“But why? So you can relieve your guilty conscience and then spend the next ten years in jail? Think about that—no, I’m serious, picture it. You want to spend your thirties in a women’s prison in, like, Fond du Lac?”
I hesitated, so she finished the thought: “Do you want me to spend my thirties there too? Because it’s all or nothing.”
I shook my head vehemently. She reached for my hand and threaded her fingers through mine. She swung our fists together, like we were kids playing Red Rover. Together, a wall, an impenetrable force.
“I know it’s hard,” she said, “and I’m sorry we’re in this position. But it will get better. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it really will start to fade, like it did last time.” She snuffled again. “When my parents died, and then Jamie, I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. And I was kind of right—you don’t move on and never think about it again. But things…shift. Life becomes this new trajectory where these are the circumstances, and life goes on. Does that make sense?”
I nodded.
She heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry that the sight of me makes you feel bad.”
“Kristen.”
“I am. I dunno what else to say. You’re not— I’m not saying you’re being mean or unfair or anything. I really am sorry.”
“Hey now.” I shot her a meaningful look. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling that way. I just don’t like being evasive with Aaron. I like him a lot.” I gave my head a quick shake. “I want to be open with you, okay? No secrets.”
She cracked a smile. “Girl, you’re the one who’s being weird. I’m an open book.” She pushed past me. “I’m gonna grab some of those seltzers, and then we’re going swimming! Can you add some air to the floatie?”
She strode up to the cabin, stepping over roots and rocks, moving as smoothly as a lynx. Her words echoed in my mind: I thought it’d never happen to me.
Two dead backpackers, a year apart. Two dead parents, killed in a fire. One dead best friend, killed in some kind of accident. So much death.
I thought of the article again—Paolo’s handsome smile, the merry texts to his sister. His father’s solemn vow.
Another echo in Kristen’s voice: I told myself you’d do the same for me.
CHAPTER 24
A mosquito whined in my ear, high-pitched and screechy, tiny nails on a chalkboard. I swatted at the air and pulled the strings of my hoodie tighter. It was cold out here, colder than I’d expected. Compared to Milwaukee, we were only a few hours closer to the North Pole, but here the air chilled as soon as the sun slinked away.
“Did you see that one?” Kristen pierced the sounds of night: throaty frogs, chittering crickets, the tinkling gurgle of lake water around the pier’s metal legs.
“Crap, I missed it.”
“It was a good one.”
“Damn.” This was Kristen’s second shooting-star sighting since we’d picked our way out here twenty minutes ago, our flashlights nosing over the root-strewn path. Even with my crummy night vision, I could tell the popcorn sky was spectacular: pinpricks of light stretching from the trees’ lumpy tops to the far side of the lake. On the narrow pier, we’d splayed on our backs, heads almost touching, legs in opposite directions.
“Maybe I should turn around and face that way,” I said.
“No, they were both right over us. Oh look, there’s a satellite.” The silhouette of her hand blotted out the stars, and I tracked the dot across the sky: a freckle of white moving steadily, determinedly west. I lost it where the stars marbled into a creamy band. The Milky Way, the edge of the galaxy, as Kristen had explained during her two-minute astronomy spiel, alongside the Big and Little Dippers and Orion’s brilliant belt.