Chapter 47
Henry
The sharp smack of the greenhouse door brings a startled gasp from within.
I edge around the messy tables and bubbling bogs and find Venus in the middle.
She’s camped out on a blanket, lying on her back, and staring into the glowing mosaic overhead.
Her hair is splayed around her. Her boots are kicked off to the side.
She holds a tumbler against her stomach, of ice and presumably vodka, as the bottle sits nearby, like she plans to make a day of it.
It clinks against her belly button ring as she begrudgingly makes space for me beside her in the narrow alley between plants.
She isn’t crying or upset, at least not at a glance. She holds up her glass and says, “When the afternoon sun hits it just right, it creates a rainbow. Remember?”
“Yeah, but is that why you’re here? Or are you hiding from me? We should talk.”
“Actually, it’s not a rainbow. It’s an optical prism. The flat surface refracts the light, and the combined colors form what appears to be a rainbow. However, if the light combines with the mist produced by Christie’s watering system, a real rainbow is possible.”
“That’s not what I meant by talking.”
“I don’t want to talk,” she says before breaking the short silence a moment later with, “Is Olly okay?”
Her question reminds me to check my phone. I haven’t missed any calls or messages, but I turn up the volume just in case. “He’s at my parents’ and eating his weight in ice cream. He picked green for his cast for you and the garden… He’s a kid. He made a mistake. Accidents happen.”
“Yes, especially around me,” Venus returns quietly. She sits up to gulp her drink, which she promptly refills.
Her words circulate through dimly lit hallways in my memories—Mom used to say that to her, snidely, off-handedly, half-joking and half-serious. “Venus, whatever Mom said doesn’t matter.”
“All Venus ever does is hurt Henry,” she says, almost robotically. “Those were her words to Dad that night. Today felt like being dragged through it again. I still can’t… I’ll never get over that night.”
My hands fist as my anger toward Mom sharpens, especially with Venus’s resigned voice. The battle she faced then becomes clearer—her trying to be that girl for me, saying yes to our future, our prom, even buying the dress, while Mom’s words broke her heart and twisted her hopes into the dirt.
“I ran from you—you, the safest place I’ve ever known—because I couldn’t tell you how I felt—”
“You ran because you felt trapped,” I correct gently.
The memory takes hold with the word trapped.
Our lovely night together, Venus and I on the tailgate, stargazing and making out.
Then, her entire demeanor shifted at the mention of prom and doing normal couple things, like she was overwhelmed with the future I’d mapped for us.
I remember her nerves, her bracelets jingling as she twiddled them, and finally that uneasy, desperate look on her face—the same look she has right now.
“I knew it wasn’t safe to run out on those rocks, knew you’d chase me,” she says, like she’s reliving the memory with me. “It was reckless. Stupid and reckless.”
“It was a mistake. You were eighteen.”
“It was careless impulsivity. I-I slipped and fell in.” Her trembling hand lifts to her head, rubbing her temple like she still feels the impact from the rock she hit on her way into the water. The same impact Olly felt today.
“It was an accident. It could’ve happened to anyone.”
She gasps like she can’t breathe, like the dark sea is swallowing her again. “No, not anyone,” she says between labored breaths. “Anyone else would’ve stayed with you, would’ve been grateful and excited about prom, college, and a life together. I-I ruined it, ruined us, almost lost you.”
“I jumped in after you—it was my choice, and I’d do it again.”
“You nearly died!” she yells.
A chill creeps up my spine, remembering the dive into the inky water, unable to see, and my frantic search. I still feel her cold fingertips grazing mine, so gently, before I grabbed onto her with urgent force. And the relief I felt when I had her against my chest.
“I think that’s why I jumped into the ocean so many times aboard that ship,” she confesses. “I wanted you to find me again.”
She’s crying now, and my chest constricts with the memory.
Latching onto her.
Dragging her to the surface.
The agonizingly slow swim to shore with one arm wrapped around her.
On the beach, she found her breath again, while I lost mine in the exertion of it. Wheezing, panicking, gasping for air that I couldn’t find—that I’m losing now—and still, nothing mattered except saving her.
“You should’ve let me drown,” she says. “Sometimes, I wish you had.”
“Never wish that again.” My voice is harsh, raspy. I reach into my pocket for my inhaler, and my lungs open in a breath. “Never, Venus.”
I remember her frantic search for my inhaler that I lost, saving her, choking for air, and her yelling, “Breathe, Henry. Just breathe!”
She sets her drink down and pulls her knees to her chest, tightening herself into a ball. “I can’t help it. You saved me, but you almost died. Holding you in my arms on that beach, begging you to breathe. I honestly didn’t think you’d—”
“But I did. We both did.” I sit up, meeting her where she is.
My hands travel to her cheeks, and I thumb away her tears.
“That night, I got a chance to do for you what you’d done for me all along.
I saved you. It was the first time I felt truly brave, and the irony is, I never could’ve done it if you hadn’t shown me how, time and time again.
It made me the man I am. You made me the man I am.
It’s why I tell Olly all of our old stories, and one day, I’ll tell him that one, too.
It’s because I want him to be brave. Brave like Venus. Brave like me, too.”
A gasping sob blubbers from her as she curls against my chest. “But Henry… this isn’t how it should be. And today, with Olly, dredged it up again.”
“Stop,” I order. “You aren’t to blame for that night or today.
I don’t regret that night. Not one minute.
When you slipped and disappeared into the water, I didn’t think twice about diving in after you.
That’s how much I loved you. And when you held me on the beach, trying to get me to breathe again, I felt how much you loved me. Our love was tested, and we passed.”
“Until I failed.” Our breaths mingle in our tiny pocket, and more tears escape when she whispers, “I was so scared that I’d lose you, Henry.
I’m still scared, like I’m always on that beach, begging you to breathe.
Don’t you see? I don’t want to hurt you or Olly, but it’s inevitable. Today proves it—”
“No, today proves that you belong with us. You did everything right.”
“I can’t go through this again. As much as I love you, I can’t,” she says, as if she’s stopped listening to me. “I can’t be what you need me to be. I can’t be what Olly needs. She’s right—all I do is hurt you—”
“No, she’s not right—”
“It doesn’t matter. Even if she’s wrong, I can’t exist in this place, in this family, where I’m to blame when something goes wrong, where I’m expected to cause problems, to be difficult, to run. I survived that once—I won’t put myself through it again. Not even for you, Henry.”
My lungs constrict again, agonizing over her pain because I get it. She shouldn’t have to live like that. I wanted a second chance for us, a better existence, not a repeat of the past with her playing defense and suffering through it for me.
“You’re right. I don’t want that for you, either.
I’m asking you to trust me. Today was rough—I get it.
But you’re still here, and today, that night, they shouldn’t decide forever.
” I sit up and grab her hand between us.
“I trust that you love me. I trust that you love Olly. I trust you to do what’s right for you, even if that means leaving.
But you don’t have to leave me. Don’t let today decide for you. ”
“I won’t let today decide,” she says finally. “I won’t do anything today.”
I bring her hands up to my mouth and plant tiny kisses on her knuckles. “Thank you.”
That she’s willing and able to put her turmoil aside fills me with relief—relief that’s quickly extinguished when she says, “But…”
Her voice trails as little beams of green and amber light flicker across her face. Her tears catch the light and make her cheeks sparkle. “But you said I’d get my answer if I stopped chasing it… and I have. I will accept New Zealand.”
“That’s fine. We can—”
“No, Henry. We can’t.” She barely gets the words out before her head hangs, and a soft sob escapes her.
“I love you, Henry… but it’s the life I’m used to, the one I’m most comfortable living.
That’s where I feel accepted and valued.
It’s where I’m safe. And where everyone’s safe from me.
It’s what I want. I can’t be there with a family here, missing me and living with disappointment because I’m absent.
That’s not a good life—not for you or Olly. You both need someone who’s… here.”
Her words feel acidic, burning through me, eating away at my hope.
Only I can’t argue because she’s right. Separating again, missing each other, trying to make our family work over texts and calls would be difficult for all of us, including Olly.
We’d be divided with all that stands laughably between us—miles, mountains, oceans, people, entire worlds blocking our path to each other.
Every cell in my body screams in protest, every muscle aches, every old loneliness returns with renewed sharpness and agony. It’s the past, overtaking me again, only this time with her rather than without.
If she’d given me the chance back then, I would’ve talked her out of leaving. Begged her. Argued. Pressured her into what I wanted. Promised her that I’d make everything okay.