Chapter 11
Easton
Fix You—Coldplay
She laughs nervously, and the sound makes my stomach tense. I don’t like how lost she sounds.
“You’re going for the hard questions, huh?” She’s wearing her bracelets and rings again, now anxiously twisting the two rings on her left hand.
“We never bothered with small talk before,” I reply calmly, wondering if I should have just asked her a harmless question instead.
But what would have been the right question?
There aren’t any. We haven’t spoken to each other for too long, and we know each other too well to dance around the hard stuff.
“I know.” She sighs softly, pushing a strand of her purple hair behind her ear.
Her hair is loose and cascading over her shoulders, not like the tight bun it was in this morning.
She seems more like herself without the perfect hairstyle and tight leotard.
I can tell she seems to feel much more at home in her oversized hoodie and loose jeans.
She moves differently. Less uptight. Less controlled. Not as insecure.
“Ask me something else,” she pleads, and I agree because I would do anything for her. I can’t help it.
“How long have you been in Boston?”
One of her eyebrows goes up, incredulity written all over her face. I shrug. I’m probably just as overwhelmed by the whole situation as she is.
She sighs again and her shoulders slump, then she looks away. “Just under six months.” Her voice is barely audible and she holds her breath, as if she doesn’t know how I’ll react.
But I don’t even know myself. Six months. We’ve been living in the same city for six months, and she didn’t say a word.
“You’re pissed off, aren’t you?”
She sounds so helpless that I want to get up and put my arms around her. But I stay where I am and shake my head. “No, I’m not.”
“Disappointed?”
“Maybe a little,” I admit, because there’s no point in lying. Besides, we promised that we’d always be honest with each other.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“You don’t have to be.” That’s the truth.
She had her reasons for not telling me, and to a certain degree I understand.
I can’t fully comprehend it, and I never will because I didn’t have to go through what she did.
She has no reason to feel sorry that I’m disappointed.
She didn’t do anything wrong. I just wish things had been different, that we’d met under better circumstances.
“I didn’t know how to explain. If you had known I was in Boston, and if you had known . . . who I am, you would have wanted to help me. Because you’re just that kind of person who has to help everyone.”
I remain silent because she’s right.
“I didn’t want anyone to help me.” Her voice breaks and I can feel my nails digging into my palms. “I just wanted to hide and forget everything.” She blinks frantically, and a painful laugh escapes from her lips.
I hate this. I want to stop her, tell her not to talk about it if she doesn’t want to, but I can’t get the words out.
And who knows, maybe she does want to talk about it. “It didn’t work out like I hoped.”
“Rayne . . .” She shakes her head, and I stop immediately.
“I know what I did was unfair. I should have answered you, but I couldn’t.
I sat in front of my phone so many times wanting to respond, but I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know who I was anymore, and everything was a mess.
” She’s staring at her hands, at her rings.
“If I had answered I would have told you the truth, because it was the only way to explain what was happening to me.” She takes a deep breath.
“But at some point, maybe after a few weeks or months, I would have had to pretend that I was feeling better. Not because you’d make me feel like I had to; you’d never do that. ”
It reassures me that she’s so sure about that. At the same time, it hurts that she felt she had to lie to me.
“But your life went on. Mine just stopped.” Somehow, she manages to pull her knees up and hug herself, even though there’s not much space on the small stool she’s sitting on.
“Everything else was moving so fast that I couldn’t keep up anymore.
I still can’t. That’s why I couldn’t answer you.
I had nothing to say, except that everything hurts.
” She gasps for breath, and it’s like I can literally feel her pain.
I want to take it away from her, but I don’t know how. “It hurts so much.”
Tears roll down her cheeks, and she doesn’t even bother to wipe them away. I can’t move, even though all I want to do is go to her and hold her tight. I want to do something that might make it not better but maybe a little more bearable.
“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry, I’m terrible.
You really shouldn’t have to put up with this.
” She jumps up and is almost at the door when I finally snap out of my trance and get up too.
In three steps, I’m next to her, one hand closing around hers before I can stop myself, before I can ask myself whether she wants this, whether it’s okay.
“Don’t run away,” I beg her. If she leaves again now . . . I don’t know what I’ll do or how I’ll go on.
Rayne’s eyes are filled with tears as she looks up at me. She’s so small and thin and very sad.
“We’re friends, remember? Friends are there for each other. Even when everything sucks. Even when you’re sad. It’s okay. I wish you didn’t have a reason to be sad, but it’s okay that you are.”
“I hate it,” she whispers. “I hate it, and I want it to stop hurting so damn much.”
I press my lips together; I can’t answer.
There’s nothing I can say that will make her feel better.
I can’t tell her that everything will be okay, because it will never truly be okay again.
Not the way it was supposed to be. I can’t tell her that the pain will go away eventually, because that’s not necessarily going to happen.
Her pain won’t go away. It won’t get any smaller. Her world will just grow around it, maybe. Hopefully.
If she lets me in, and if she wants me to be there, I will be. I’ve been here the whole time, and I don’t plan on going anywhere now.
Gently, I pull her toward me, and she doesn’t resist. She lets herself fall against my chest. A rough sob breaks out, and she lets herself go. I hope with all my heart that I’m the right person to catch her.