Chapter 68
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Cordelia
The video on my phone is a ghost. It whispers through my mind. It follows me as I catch a cab back to Lucky Falls. It taps on my shoulder when I return to the workshop and update Rebel, April, and May about my shopping trip with Gordie.
My bosses demand pictures.
I show off all the pretty shots of Gordie in her princess dress. They marvel at how adorable she is, and I feel a sense of pride even though I contributed the least to her makeover.
Then I swipe a picture too far.
On my screen is a frozen picture of Gwen in a yellow dress and a play button.
“Ooh.” Rebel pounces on me. “Did you take a video? I want to see?” The smile drops from her face when she notices Gwen on the screen.
Feeling exposed, I tuck the phone in my back pocket.
Rebel and April get that familiar look of concern again. They exchange glances in a way that I’m starting to realize is code for should we push her or not?
May glances between us. “Why is everyone acting so weird?”
“May,” April warns in a scolding tone.
“What? Wasn’t that a video of Delia? I saw her face on the screen.”
“Have you finished logging those customer emails in the database? If you want to work here after you graduate, you need to actually work.” April takes her sister by the shoulder and steers her in the opposite direction.
“Why are you scolding me? Everyone was taking a break!” May protests as she’s carted off.
Rebel gives me a small smile and leaves too.
I get under the hood of a vehicle and try my best not to think about the video, but it lingers close to the surface. I’m a coward. Why is it so much easier for me to get on a motorcycle and drive at insane speeds on curvy, hilltop roads, but the thought of pressing “play” is terrifying?
After I lock up my tools and ride home, I set the phone on my coffee table and pace up and down.
“I can do this. I can do this,” I say, swinging my arms and doing a few bunny hops to psyche myself up.
At that moment, my phone lights up with a call.
It’s Ray’s number.
I stiffen, guilt shooting through my veins and tightening my chest. I pushed Renthrow away, knowing this day would come. But why is it so soon? Is Ray in Lucky Falls already?
The phone keeps ringing and ringing.
I know I should answer.
This is Ray, Gwen’s beloved husband. The man whose entire family was taken from him. I’ll never forget what he told me outside the church the day of the funeral.
“I don’t want you anywhere near them. I held her while she was crying over the way you treated her. I was there when she kept asking and asking for you, and you never came. You make me sick! Get out of my sight. She wouldn’t want you at her funeral, and neither do I!”
His agony was palpable, and I imagine that it still is. Ray’s pain was like an icicle that shot out of him and impaled me. I know what he wants. To see me broken and tormented. To have me punished.
Back then, I believed I deserved punishment too. It wasn’t hard to run from Mom and the company. I was relieved to leave everything behind.
But something in me wants to fight this time. Something in me is asking questions.
Like…
Maybe I’m not responsible for Gwen’s death. Maybe I can breathe and live and love and have a family of my own. Maybe I deserve to.
You don’t have a right to forget.
The dark voice pushes at the hope that wants to grow inside me. I should answer the call and let Ray put me back in my place. Maybe being in Lucky Falls poisoned me. Just because time has passed and I’m healing from my grief, it doesn’t erase what I’ve done to Gwen.
The phone stops buzzing.
A text comes in.
I inch over to the device and check the screen.
Ray: I’m sorry for all the things I said to you. They weren’t true.
My eyebrows fly to the top of my hairline. I zoom into the text, wondering if I’m seeing it right. Then I check the number to make sure that it came from Ray. And then I flop back into the couch, trying to make sense of that cryptic message.
Another text comes in at that moment.
Ray: I won’t bother you again.
What on earth?
I scroll through the previous messages from Ray.
Ray: Every time I see your face it reminds me of her. I wish you’d leave.
Ray: I can’t bear the fact that you look so much like her. It’s killing me.
Ray: I hate running into you everywhere.
Ray: How can you smile after what you did to her?
My heart skitters frantically in my chest. Did Mom put Ray up to that? Did she threaten him with something? Why is he suddenly apologizing?
Restless, I go for a ride. The wind tugs at my leather jacket, and the sky unfurls before me like a yawning black monster. Somewhere, behind all those clouds, are the stars Gordie’s always so excited about. But I can’t see them from here.
After my ride, I drag myself back to my apartment and check the time.
One a.m.
My eyes widen.
Time to climb into bed and stare at the ceiling until 3 a.m.
I shower, change, and lie down. My head is full of thoughts—mostly of Renthrow and Gordie. And Ray. And Mom. And Gwen.
She loved you, Mom had said earlier.
Did she? Even after everything?
Just watch it.
Mustering up the courage, I grab my phone and press play on the video.
Pink and blue helium balloons fill the background, and Gwen stands in front of the backdrop of a banner that reads “CONGRATULATIONS!” As usual, she’s glowing. Skin, dewy. Hair pulled back in a chignon knot with tendrils framing her model-like face. Lips parted in a soft smile.
“I’m not good at saying things in person,” Gwen speaks into a microphone.
The crowd laughs in disbelief.
“I feel far more comfortable in front of a camera.” She gestures directly to the videographer.
The guests laugh again.
Gwen rubs her belly. The bump is barely visible in her soft, yellow dress.
“My whole life,” Gwen admits, “I’ve prepared myself before stepping on the stage. My hair, my makeup, my smile, my speech, even my walk—I practiced, I planned, and what I didn’t plan, Mom took over and perfected to the last detail.”
The camera pans to my mom who’s sitting around one of the tables at the front. She waves primly.
“But,” Gwen says, looking down at her stomach, “I don’t think I’ll ever be fully prepared for this stage.
That’s both thrilling and terrifying.” She pauses a moment, a knot appearing between her brows.
“In moments like these, when I have to step off script and walk into the unknown, where there’s no makeup team, no speech trainer, no catwalk coach, in the moments when there’s just darkness in front of me, and I have no clue when I’ll reach the light at the end of the tunnel… ”
The room is quiet, everyone hanging on her every word.
“…I think of my sister Delia.”
Murmurs erupt in the room. Heads swivel, looking for the sister that’s being mentioned.
The camera pans through the tables at the front, exposing the shocked and uncomfortable reactions of the guests.
But when it centers back on Gwen, she’s smiling. “If it’s dangerous, if the path is hard, if everyone says she shouldn’t, Delia dives in. Since we were little, she’s been forging her own way and making it look easy.”
Gwen beams at the camera. “Those of you who know Delia can attest to this. She chooses what road she’ll take by whether or not someone’s been there before. She’s not afraid of being the first. It’s how she makes her mark.”
Gwen pauses and rubs her belly. “I may not have her spirit, but I hope my baby does. I hope that, in this new adventure, I’ll forge my own path too, without fear. Without a team. Just me. Mistakes and all.”
Gwen blinks and looks out at the crowd. “Isn’t that what parenting is? Figuring it out as you go along? There’s no handbook. Trust me. I’ve looked.”
More chuckles. More smiles. More soft sighs of agreement.
“I’m about to start crying. Pregnancy makes me so emotional.”
Rounds of “Same” and “Wait until you get further along” ring out.
“So I’ll wrap this up with a toast.” Gwen raises her juice-filled champagne glass. “To my mom for showing me how to prepare for anything. And to Delia, for inspiring me to take that first step into adventure, even if you never feel ready. May you never lose that spark, Dee-Dee.”
Gwen stares at the camera for a beat as if she knows that one day her sister will watch. And then her model face creeps back into her expression, and she smiles primly at her guests, slipping back into her performance.