24. Henry
24
HENRY
“You lied to dad ?!”
Okay. Not a great way to start this conversation, though I couldn’t think of a better one.
Liz is sitting on my couch, downing her third virgin mojito in twenty minutes. She came over a few minutes after Amelie left to show me that she made a pitcher full, then asked what I was packing a suitcase for. I was tempted to lie—to say the first thing that popped into my head, which happened to be Finland.
But there’s no use, not when I really need to talk to someone about all this, so I finally just told her. She’s one of those people that you can tell anything to…and then instantly regret it when the lecture comes.
Which is where I am right now.
“Just a little,” I say, folding up a shirt. “But it’s not that bad.”
She huffs and drains her glass. “Yes, it is!”
“I couldn’t tell him the truth , Liz. You know how he felt about Amelie.”
“I know. I’m only saying, it’s going to be bad when he finds out.”
That’s true. I told my dad I’m going out of town for a convention, because what else was I going to say? That I’m going to spend time with the girls he hates, as well as her entire family ? No. If I had done that, he’d force me to get dirt on her. I would have no choice but to give him the upper hand.
And I don’t want that. At all.
“Hen, I don’t know why you did that.” Lizzy shakes her head. “And he will find out.”
“He won’t,” I say pointedly. “You won’t tell him.”
“Of course I won’t. But don’t…don’t you ever feel like he knows more than he lets on?”
“All the time,” I admit. I’ve always thought that. He’s too intent about certain things to not be hiding something, though I assume it’s because of his past.
According to Mom, Dad was a different man when he started his business. He was happier, more enthusiastic about small things. I’d paint something new, and he’d make it the biggest deal, saying that one day, it’ll be displayed in his museum. When I was finally old enough to make it a career, I was thrilled.
But the whole thing slowly tapered off.
Business got bad for a while. Art thievery raised an insane amount in months. The worst it’s been since the nineties, according to the reports. I remember reading stories about it when I was young—the most prominent thieves in the area, named The Bandits, ran this city. They were never caught, but they’ve also never been forgotten. Not by my family, anyways.
“Well, what outcome are you expecting?” Liz asks.
I look over. “What?”
“What are you wanting out of this trip?”
I swallow. “I don’t want anything out of it. I’m going to help Amelie, and she’s going to find my piece, and we’ll be rid of each other.”
“Hm,” she says, clearly not believing me. “Henry, do you remember your prom, when you got home after dropping Amelie off at her house? Do you remember that?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to remind me of it.”
“I am.” She sits a little straighter. “That night, you were ecstatic. Insane. A little giddy, if I might, but really?—”
“I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”
Liz sighs. “You’re talking about her with that same tone of voice. That same look on your face. Even while acting like you don’t care about her.”
My face turns hot. “No, I’m not.”
“You are. You still love her, Hen, regardless of your want otherwise. You’re doing all this because you miss her.”
I don’t know what to say. She’s wrong. I don’t miss Amelie. I don’t still love her. I’m doing this because she needs help, and she’s helping me, so it’s a fair return. There’s no need for her to be anxious over something I can easily fix. That doesn’t mean I still love her . That’s basic human decency.
“This is all just an observation,” Liz says. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s a false thing,” I clarify. “I’m doing this in return for her help, Liz. Nothing else. I don’t…I can’t still love her. She set out to make my life miserable.” And she’s doing a great job at it.
Liz snorts, and I have yet to find what’s funny. “You went to her for help, Henry! You can’t act like she’s all that bad. And she’s not. I miss her dearly. But you need to man up and say what you’re thinking.”
“Liz,” I warn. “Let it go.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Say it!”
“Say what ?”
“What you think of her.”
“I think a lot of her. I can’t stop thinking about her, and it’s aggravating.” I exhale sharply, embarrassed as the words leave my mouth. “Good enough?”
“Sure! Now you’ve admitted it. That’s all you need.”
What I need is some memory erasure procedure, though I don’t think those exist yet.
“It’s going to be a disaster,” I say, shoving more clothes into my suitcase. “We’re going to kill each other.”
“Or you’ll fall back in love.”
“Liz, I swear?—”
“Do you need me to cover for you here?” She flashes a smile. “I can.”
“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” I say. “If something goes wrong, I’ll take care of it when I get back.”
She nods and pours herself another mojito. That’s the fifth. “You know what you’re doing, Henry.”
“I don’t.” I give a strangled sounding laugh. “I have no clue what I’m doing.”
“You’ll figure it out, then.” She hums. “Anyways, can I see your new piece? I was going to look, but I didn’t want to overstep.”
“You’re always fine to break into my studio.”
I stand and fling my suitcase shut so Betty doesn’t lay on my clothes. Before I even turn toward the door, Liz shoots to her feet with a gasp. “Wait! What are you going to do about the piece? Do I need to put it in my apartment?”
I shake my head. “I told Dad to have the cameras on while I’m gone.”
“And the likelihood of him listening is…?”
“Slim,” I admit. “But he acted more compliant than usual, so I’m hoping that’s a good sign.”
It’s either that, or he was trying to pacify me, which isn’t an impossibility.
Lizzy shrugs and walks out of my room, clearly deeming the conversation over. I unlock my studio door and let her go ahead of me. She stops short in front of the canvas, staring at it with blank eyes and a downturned mouth.
“It’s us,” she says.
I nod. “That one photo, just…different.”
She tilts her head. “I have that on my fridge.”
“Why?”
“Because I was cute. What did you name it?”
I swallow, reluctant to tell her after our conversation. But Liz knows everything. She’ll know just by the sound of my voice if I don’t mention it.
“ Childlike Wonder ,” I say quietly. “Ames named it.”
She turns and raises her brows. “Oh, you are gone .”
It certainly does look that way, which is why my next question is going to make Liz’s assumptions ten times worse. “Moving on. What do you know about jewelry?”
Her brows raise. “Jewelry? You want to shop for jewelry ?”
I nod.
Liz lets out an ear-splitting cackle before grabbing my arm and dragging me outside.