Chapter Fifty-Four
Fifty-Four
MY EYES ARE BURNING. I can’t tell if I’ve been blinking them the right amount.
This is what I am going to do: I am going to let time keep moving. I am going to do nothing. Because there is no point. There is literally no point to anything.
There’s a soft knock on the connecting bathroom door. She never knocks.
“Can I come in?”
I don’t say anything.
The door creaks open and Jules walks in. “It’s really dark in here.”
She turns on my bedside lamp but I don’t flinch. I just let the light burn my eyes, blurring everything around me into a harsh yellow.
“Okay, so we’re doing the whole depresh thing again? I thought that little smoky sausage coming over would’ve fixed you right up.” Jules waits for me to respond. I don’t. “No? Nothing?”
What is Peter doing right now? Is he talking to his mom? Sleeping? Worrying about the test? Imagining what his life will be like ten years from now?
“Okay,” Jules says, “I know what will fix this bruised little heart of yours.”
My heart is not bruised. My heart is dust. It’s fucking vapor.
Jules turns around and goes back into her room. I hear her mumbling to herself, rummaging through something, and then she comes back into my room with her hands cupped together. She sits next to me on the bed and opens her fingers.
A tiny furry face with black beady eyes stares back at me. It wiggles its nose.
It’s a fucking hamster.
“Her name is—”
“Jules, what the fuck.” I sit up. I’m shaking.
“Her name is Kristen Stewart.” She brings her to her face and kisses her on the nose. “Isn’t she fierce?” She turns her back around to me and looks at me as if I’m supposed to swoon.
“You have to get rid of it.”
“She goes by she/they,” Jules says, “not it.”
“I am not fucking joking, Jules. You have to get rid of that thing.”
“Why? Because of some bullshit made-up allergies?”
She cannot have this hamster. She can’t handle it. “What happens when that thing dies? What then, Jules?”
“When she dies?” Jules scrunches up her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you! What is it going to be like when that thing dies? How are you going to handle that, huh?” My heart is racing. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t see all the things I’ve done to protect her all these years. All I’ve done to shield her.
“I’ll be sad,” Jules says slowly, her eyes on mine, “and then I’ll be okay.”
“No you won’t!” I shriek. “You’ll be a fucking mess! You’ll never get over it!”
“Syd,” Jules says, “they’re a hamster.”
“Don’t you remember? Don’t you have any fucking memory of what it was like for you—for us—when Mom died?”
“Yes! Of course I remember. But I was a little kid. And that was Mom. This isn’t the same thing. I can handle life, Sydney.”
“No you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!” Jules yells back. “You’re the one who never got over Mom. I’ve made my peace with it. I talk to her all the time. I light a candle on her birthday. I wear some of her clothes. You don’t even notice. You are the one who hasn’t moved on. Not me.”
“That’s not—”
“Yes it is. You’re the one reading depressing philosophers and thinking you’re above life’s bullshit when really all you’re doing is avoiding, avoiding, avoiding.
You’re not smarter than anyone else. You’re just fucking scared.
None of your shit is about me, Sydney. It’s about you.
And you need to get a fucking grip or you’re going to end up just like Dad. God, you’re halfway there already.”
“That’s insane! I’m not like him at all. I don’t …” But I can’t finish that sentence because what would I even say? I don’t … what? I don’t push everyone away? I don’t close myself off to everything because life hurts so much? “I …”
Shit.
She’s right. Oh my god, she’s right. I am just like Dad. I’m just like Charles. They haven’t let go. They haven’t moved on. Death is their entire life. And it’s mine too. All my rules. My stupid fucking rules.
“I thought things were getting better for you,” Jules says. “Having Peter around, you’ve been like … almost a person again. But here you are. Back in the dark. Sitting shiva, over what?”
I open my mouth but she cuts me off.
“Honestly, I don’t give a shit. Get up. Get up, Sydney, I am so serious right now.”
I sit up.
“It’s enough. It’s enough already. Go and get Peter and apologize or accept his apology or do whatever you need to do to fix this. But I swear if you stay in this bed in this moment you will never leave it again.” She looks me in the eyes. “You are wasting time.”
I am wasting time.
I grab my phone and my keys and throw on my sneakers.
I’m not going to waste one more second.