The Lies About Truth(8)
Big said nothing, so I nuzzled my face against his, and listened to the ceiling fan turn until late into the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
Some Emails to Max in El Salvador From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: July 11
Subject: RE: how are you?
Max,
Thanks for emailing me. I didn’t know if you would have internet or not, but I’m glad you do. I still can’t believe you’re in El Salvador. I stare at your house, all vacant and dark, and can’t believe you’re gone. Mom said that your mom and dad met in San Vicente when they were in the peace corps. She wasn’t surprised your dad took the bridge contract when it came up because it’s a good way to go back to who they were before all this happened.
It might be great for them, but it doesn’t feel fair to you. For me, it’s too easy to believe Trent’s just on vacation.
Typing his name is hard.
Typing anything is hard. My right arm is still in a cast to my shoulder so I’m pecking this out with my left. My words still come slowly at times, but the doctors say my brain is fine. They say I’m lucky. I know you asked how I’m doing, but I’ll have to tell you more in the next email. That’s not an easy or fast answer.
What about you? How’s your voice? Is your vocal cord healing? It must be really hard not to be able to speak. Do people there know about Trent?
Sadie
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: July 13
Subject: don’t be brave with me, mister
Max,
You said you were lucky that no one there knows. Did you mean that? If no one there knows, then they don’t have access to Trent or to who you were with him. That’s a shame, ya know?
I keep thinking about all the people I might meet in life, and how they won’t know him. And that seems like a whole other tragedy.
Honestly, you sound like you’re trying to be brave.
You don’t have to do that with me.
In fact, if you need bravery, you’ve come to the wrong spot. I’m empty. So what if our emails are the place we set aside to be honest? And if you’re lonely, or scared, or sad, or angry, or . . . whatever, you say it here, to me. And I’ll do the same.
Sadie
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: July 17
Subject: RE: don’t be brave with me, mister
Max,
You’re right. I didn’t actually do the same. So here goes: I’m lonely, and I’m surrounded by people. People who think they understand, but they aren’t inside my head. I feel like I’m living in the middle of a terrible “You had to be there” story.
Sadie
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: July 22
Subject: Where is our prestidigitator?
Max,
True. I’m not living that story alone. We were in the car together.
Thank you for telling me how angry you are. Keep telling me. I might not know what to say, but I’ll listen.
I’d pay a million dollars for a time machine or a magic wand. I’ve been a fixer my whole life, and this is unfixable. That’s overwhelming to me.
Sadie
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: July 26
Subject: RE: Gina and Gray
Max,
You’re right, except you’re wrong. Technically, I have Gina and Gray, but at the same time, I don’t. So far, every time we’ve been together all we’ve done is push each other’s grief buttons. Then, it turns into a weird cry-fest, which isn’t helpful. So lately, when either of them visits, I pretend I’m sleeping. That’s terrible, but I’m too tired to cry. Plus, I don’t want them to see me like this. And I really don’t want to see them the way I see them, either.
Mom says I’m looking better. Of course, Mom is nuts. My face looks like a cracked desert. The doctors are going to do a series of plastic surgeries when I’m healthier. I’m hopeful those will help. Maybe then I’ll have conversations with my friends, family, and strangers that aren’t about my face or the wreck.
It’s crazy. In the time we need each other most, we don’t seem to know what to do with each other.
The doctors put a steel rod in my arm. If they’d been more considerate, they would have inserted a forget button in my chest. Ah, the limits of modern medicine.
Sadie
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: July 28
Subject: Apology Central—How may I direct your call?
Max,
Yeah, I’m not surprised Gina and Gray emailed you. Both of them asked me for your email address. What you said is fine. I would never tell them stuff about you, either. And yes, they say I’m sorry like those are the only two words in their vocabularies.
Honestly, I don’t want their sorrys. All I want is for them to look at me—to see me the way they used to. I want to believe that who I was for sixteen years is stronger than the picture they have of me now. Can I ever be the crazy, fun girl again?
At the very least, they could stop bullshitting me. I’m tired of them saying, “Sadie, you’re looking much better.” How would they know? Neither of them will actually look at me, so . . .