Chapter 47 Let the Past Be the Past ’Til It’s Weightless
FORTY-SEVEN
Let the past be the past 'til it's weightless
LILA
Strong hands grip me by the upper arms, shaking me delicately. “Cookie, it’s me. Talk to me.”
A distant voice comes into my awareness along with my vision. I blink out of the haze, finding a startled Reed hovering over me.
My pulse pounds in my throat.. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
A giant breath whooshes out of him, his shoulders sagging with relief. “You zoned out. Your eyes glazed over. Scared the shit out of me.” Releasing my arms, he takes my cheeks between his palms. “Baby, are you okay?”
I lick my suddenly dry lips and try to moisten my mouth. The pounding in my neck doesn’t fade away at first. I cling to the tenderness of his thumbs stroking my cheeks, letting him drag me the rest of the way from the fog.
“Yes. I’m fine,” I quaver, no doubt as convincing as a shifty politician.
Reed’s posture softens, and he reluctantly releases my face. “What happened?”
Digging deep, I reach for my old faithful mask. The smile that fools the world.
Only it isn’t there.
Even if I could find the stupid plastic thing, Reed would see right through it.
Instead, I beg him for solace. “Can you please just hold me?”
He doesn’t hesitate to curl his front to my back. Our legs intertwine, and his arms lock me in. I settle into his embrace, letting his energy and body soothe me as best they can.
After a while, I feel less damaged.
I don’t think I’ve ever been held this way. Not the physical position; I’ve been the little spoon with Reed in the past. This is more than that. He isn’t only using his body to surround me in love, but his entire presence.
We’re braided together so completely we’re practically one. Our breathing syncs up. I bet our heartbeats do too.
With his strength fortifying me, I’m able to explain. “Sorry for scaring you. I was thinking about my family when I zoned out. Then my thoughts turned to my sister.” My throat thickens, my tongue swells with the sorrow. “And the day she died.”
“Oh, cookie.” He kisses the side of my neck, right where he burrowed his face. “Want to tell me about Zara?”
The question gives me pause. As I run it through my mind again, I realize why.
Instead of asking me what happened on the day she died, he asked about her. As a person. Someone who mattered.
And he said her name.
A sudden realization rains over me—I want Reed to know who she was. And what she meant to me. I need her to exist somewhere other than inside my broken heart and memories.
“You know what? Yes. I do want to tell you about her.” I kiss his forearm, since it’s the only part of him my mouth can reach. “Thank you for asking.”
“You sound surprised. I take it she isn’t a topic you open up about often.”
“My family doesn’t talk about Zara. I learned to do the same. To tell you the truth, I don’t know the last time I heard her name spoken aloud by someone other than me. It might have been her funeral.”
“Wait. You don’t mean that literally, right? What about friends from school? Or surely your family must—”
“Nope. It was summer break when she died. By the next school year, we’d move to a new town.
Nobody at my new school knew to ask about her.
As for my family? They never speak of her.
Ever. They cleaned out her side of our room the day after the funeral.
They got rid of everything that reminded them of her.
Except me. When I got older, I realized they resented not being able to discard me as well. ”
Reed squeezes me tighter. “When we were young, I assumed something was off with your family. I mean, Kenzie never slept at your house. It was always the other way around. I wish I had asked you why. In retrospect, I bet I was afraid you were being abused. Easier for me to stay blissfully ignorant. I’m sorry. ”
“I probably would have lied anyhow. Well, I would have distracted you with talk about baby pandas with laser eyes that were found in the Congo or something else whimsical.”
I sense his smile from the faint brush of his lips over my neck. “I would have let you. Your nonsense was always entertaining. Still is.”
“You would have loved Zara then. She was full of spirit. My gosh, Reed, she shone brighter than the sun. And I was overjoyed to bask in her light. She always made me laugh, no matter what was happening. If I was sick, she told silly stories to entertain me. If I got in trouble, she’d act up so I wouldn’t be punished alone. ”
A sad smile eclipses my face as memories shimmer in my mind’s eye. “We weren’t ever in big trouble. It was inconsequential things like no TV or early bedtime. Even if it had been something worse, she’d have suffered right along with me. That’s the kind of person she was.”
“That’s sweet,” Reed whispers.
I sigh wistfully. “Zara was too good for this world.”
“She sounds just like you, cookie.”
A sliver of me wants to refute him, but a larger part longs to believe him. If it were true, then it could be as if she never fully left me. I’d have a part of her with me always.
“Do you have a picture of her?” he asks.
“No. They took every piece of her away from me. All I had was the heart on the mirror. Eventually, that was gone too.”
“Really? Why would they do that?”
“Zara’s death changed my parents. Not only with me.
They cut off all contact with Aunt Moira since she was watching us when it happened.
I never saw her again. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.
To be honest, I wish they’d sent me to live with her.
Then they wouldn’t have to see my face and be reminded of what I did. ”
“You didn’t do it, Lila. I read the report, and it wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry your parents made you feel like it was.”
“They were in so much pain.” I blink, shocked at the lack of moisture in my eyes. “I don’t blame them for breaking. We all broke.”
“No excuses. You were a child. They should have been there for you.”
Instead of defending my parents, I let his words percolate. Maybe he’s right.
Why was a seven-year-old left to navigate the death of her twin without the love and support of her mother and father? Even if it was my fault, it wasn’t intentional. And I needed help.
I needed my parents.
“For a long time, I didn’t have the words to articulate my feelings or explain what happened up there.
In a way, Zara took my ability to speak with her.
Immediately after, all I could do was apologize.
Through my tears, I begged for forgiveness.
Over and over. People swarmed. The cops came.
Paramedics. My parents arrived. And I told them all how sorry I was. It was the only thing I could say.”
Right when I think I’m about to break, Reed’s hold on me intensifies. Warmth floods me, a soothing balm to my spirit.
I pause for a shaky breath, then continue with renewed calmness.
“I was taught to take accountability for my mistakes, which is what I was desperately trying to do. I believed if they knew how much I regretted it, they’d bring her back to me.
As an adult, I hear how dumb that sounds.
But as a child, I thought it would save her.
I apologized nonstop until we drove away that day.
Without her. That’s when I knew that no words could save her.
So I didn’t speak. For weeks. I was totally mute from the trauma. ”
Being able to share this with Reed is surreal. I’ve never spoken so openly about this. Kenzie knows bits and pieces of the story, but I always ended up sobbing uncontrollably and unable to finish.
Not tonight, though.
It’s painful, but telling him isn’t shattering me. It’s stitching me together.
In the solace and warmth of Reed’s embrace, I can purge this from my soul.
He lifts his head, placing a tender kiss on my cheek. “In the file, it says they sent you to a psychologist. Do you remember that?”
“Vaguely. I’m fairly certain it was only a few times.
I have a distinct recollection of the first visit, though.
Before I met the doctor, my parents had me wait in the hall.
I overheard them order him to do whatever was necessary to get me talking again.
And not to fix or help me. Oh no. I was the only one who could tell them who killed their child up on that cliff. ”
I wobble my head faintly, wishing I could dismiss these facts as fiction.
“Up ‘til then, my aunt was the only person they could truly blame. After all, the entire trip came about so she could see her Holy Grail bird. She convinced my parents to join since they’d always talked about vacationing in the UK. We flew to England as one big happy family. We came back broken. Tragically, Zara never came back.”
Reed’s next words come out shakier, tone abrasive, as if he’s the one in pain. “I’m so sorry. So damn sorry, cookie.”
We linger in this moment for a while. I skim his arms in loving strokes, returning some of his affection in hopes it drives away that quiver in his voice.
“Something just dawned on me. Although my parents blamed Aunt Mo for Zara’s death, I never did. And I never will. Isn’t that odd?”
“Not at all. It wasn’t her fault. Same as it wasn’t yours.”
I wish that were true.
“I don’t know what the police file says, but I assure you it was my fault.
” Before he can object, I launch into my explanation.
“It was my idea to take the picture of the bird. But I wasn’t brave enough to do it myself because it was so close to the edge.
Zara wasn’t scared of anything. She slipped, and I tried to hold on with all my might.
Then she was falling. It all happened so fast. One second, she was there. The next. Gone.”
“Damn, Lila. It must have been devastating. My heart breaks for you.”
For the first time in this conversation, tears threaten to come.
Reed smooths his palm over my arm gingerly. Although unable to see my face, he intrinsically senses I need him to get me through this. And it’s working.