The Love That Split the World(57)

Dad nods. “It makes sense.” He reaches over and stretches an arm around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head. “I feel that too.”

“The bad things get exhausting,” I say. “Sometimes I just want to be somewhere else.” I can’t explain what I mean, but I imagine a place like outer space. Where nothing exists.

Dad’s eyes soften as we pull onto the road. “Honey, you’re a smart kid, and you’re sensitive too. That’s not a bad thing, but it is a hard thing. For you, the dark’s going to feel a whole lot darker, and you won’t be able to hide from it.” He pauses for a second then goes on. “But I want you to listen to me. Listen good.”

It sounds like something Grandmother would say.

“You don’t know everything,” he says softly. “Not yet you don’t. And when you see those good things—and I promise you, there are so many good things—they’re going to be so much brighter for you than they are for other people, just like the abyss seems deeper and bigger when you stare at it. If you stick it out, it’s all going to feel worth it in the end. Every moment you live, every darkness you face, they’ll all feel worth it when you’re staring light in the face. Okay?”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “How do you know?”

He smiles and rustles my hair. “Because you’re like me. And when you came home with us, everything changed. I saw my whole life for what it had really been, and even though I was goddam terrified of all the things that could happen to you, when I looked at you it was like all the bad things had been a dream, and I was finally waking up. That’s how I know, sugar cube. This is only the beginning. If you want the good, you can’t give up.”





19


“I think it’s great that you’re going to Derek’s party,” Mom says from the doorway as she slips on her dangling earrings.

“Really? Great?” I say. “Have you met Derek?”

She purses her lips. “Admittedly, he’s not my favorite of your friends. But I know how hard it’s been for you being apart from Megan, and growing apart from Matt. You only have a couple more weeks here before vacation, and then you’re pretty much off to Brown.” Mom looks wistful despite her best attempts at tranquility. The summer trip always has this effect on her. It’s the one time of year where everyone’s happy and connected and engaged simultaneously, and that’s because she carefully plans it that way. This year, with Brown looming, the trip feels different, like we’re planning one last hurrah before our family splinters. “You should take advantage of that time,” Mom says.

“You want me to get wasted.”

“Natalie,” Mom says, touching her hand to her chest. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Kidding,” I say.

“Will there be drinking at the party?” she says, suddenly worried.

“No,” I lie, trying to keep my eyes from flicking sideways.

Mom grabs a pump of hand lotion from the bottle on the top of my desk and rubs her palms together. “If you need a ride home, you know you can call, right? I’d always rather you were safe.”

“Okay, now you’re definitely telling me to get wasted.”

“I am not,” Mom protests. “I just recognize that you’re becoming an adult. You’re going to make your own decisions, and I know you’re a smart girl, but everyone makes some mistakes. I want you to know you’ve got me, no matter what. You can always count on your dad and me.”

“So you want me to get pregnant, or . . . ?”

Mom crosses her arms and gives me a stern look. “Be good,” she says, turning down the hallway.

Beau picks me up at nine, about an hour after Mom and Dad take off for their date night and twenty minutes after Abby’s mom picks up Jack and Coco to drop all of them off at the movies. He honks from the driveway, and I run out to find him looking unbearably good in worn-out jeans and an equally aged plaid shirt.

“Ready?” he asks when I climb in.

“As I’ll ever be.” Truthfully, just about the second we parted ways last night I started worrying that we’d get separated again, but now that we’re together that seems impossible. I feel like we’re anchored together.

We drive out past the high school to the Dillhorns’ fancy neighborhood of mini-mansions, with its own golf course and country club. The party’s already going full force, music blaring and cars parked all the way around the circular driveway at the top of the hill. “My version or yours?” I ask Beau. I felt that sinking sensation in my stomach awhile back, but it had been so subtle I’d thought I imagined it.

He closes his eyes for a second. “Mine.”

“How do you know?”

“I told you, you belong here more than anyone else,” he says softly.

“You did.”

“Your version of the world feels different,” he says. “It feels like you.”

I laugh. “When did it change?”

Beau shrugs. “They’re so alike sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

“I guess I’m holding up my end of the deal so far,” I say. “I came to your Union.”

“So I shouldn’t drink tonight?”