Chapter 6
Rowan
We were seventeen when it happened. She never liked to give it a name, and neither did I. Labeling it for what it was would hurt more, I think. Even if it was exactly that—a suicide attempt. A failed one, thank goodness.
I remember visiting Natalia after her first week in the hospital.
It was an unbelievable heartbreak, seeing her like that.
I’d never wanted to cry so badly than when she came into the room where visitations were commonly held and sat adjacent to me.
The bags under her eyes were puffy and dark, her eyelids were heavy and her eyes were missing the spark I looked forward to seeing every day.
The seventeen freckles—the ones that form a constellation—were dim.
I wanted to kiss all seventeen of them to see if they’d come back to life.
She was moving so slow and she wore baggy sweats with the string removed, fuzzy socks inside of fuzzy slippers, and her hair was parted in two French braids, and I just wanted to hold her.
I saw her and knew what she had been feeling.
I just wished I could have saved her from whatever monster was plaguing her head that made her think she needed to die. Or made her want to die.
When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was hoarse and broken, the darkness that entrapped her making itself known with each word she spoke—even when she said, hey. But even with that weak greeting, my entire life brightened.
I wondered then if it would always be like that with her.
That if every time she glanced my way or whispered any word in any language the sun would come out or my broken heart would mend just a bit each time.
Every smile from her would be a stitch closing an open wound.
Every smile is a stitch closing an open wound.
At one point into our hour-long visit, after playing UNO and starting a new round of Connect 4, I asked, “Will you ever tell me what it is?”
She dropped a red chip atop my yellow one. “I don’t always know what it is,” she said quietly. “I don’t always have a reason. Sometimes, it’s just really, really dark. And other times, it’s not so much. I can’t explain it and I don’t know where it comes from.”
My hand shook as I dropped my yellow chip, clearly missing the winning spot. The pain in my chest that afternoon was indescribable.
“I wish I knew,” she murmured. “If I knew, I could get it to stop. I could…cut it out. Find it. Fight it. I just…I’m not lucky enough to have things so easily.”
I remember wanting to tell her she was lucky. That I’d help her find it and fight it. But I remembered hating how people would say sorry about my mother and to reach out if we ever needed anything. How unhelpful it felt.
Her pale hand lifted, trembling, and slender fingers dropped a red chip. She won the game. “Is this going to be forever?” Natalia asked, staring at her winning chips. “Whatever is in my head… Is this it for me?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “There’s more for you than this.”
I was still grieving my mother and I could not begin to imagine what grieving Natalia Mae Davis-Jeong would be like. I’d rather have her alive and hating me than gone and never seeing her or hearing her voice again.
I think it was then I realized how much I loved her. How badly I wanted to be someone to her. Anyone. I would take crumbs if that was all she had to offer me.
“They’re hosting a movie night this Saturday,” she told me, restarting the game. “Will you come?”
“What’s the movie?”
“Beetlejuice.”
“I’ll be here.”
A knock on the back door pulls me out of my head.
“Rowan? Are you there?” I recognize the soft, raspy voice through the door immediately. “It’s me.”
I wash and shake out my hands, sifting my wet fingers through my hair to fix its style. By the end of the day, I’m typically worn out and begging for sleep, but something held me back extra late after closing tonight, and I’m glad it did.
I open the latch and push open the door.
“You’re here.” She breathes, hints of a smile at the corners of her lips. “I was hoping…”
“What are you doing here?” I ask softly. “It’s late and dark back here.”
“I…” She clears her throat and holds up a small tray of six cupcakes. “I just wanted to say thank you—for what you did with my dads.”
I roll my lips in to contain a smile. “Come in.”
I hold the door open for her and her small frame slips right in.
“I brought six different flavors,” she says as I secure the latch. “I’ve been experimenting with peanut butter and a new strawberry flavor.”
I set the smile free. “Did you bring my favorite?”
Natalia’s lips twitch, her eyes darting to the covered tray. “Red velvet coconut.”
“Thank you,” I say and pace around the kitchen to gather the last few ingredients for my late night meal.
“No, thank you.” Her voice echoes around me. “My dads…They’ve already been…”
“Been what?” I ask, stirring our dinner. “You can tell me.”
Natalia shakes her head, tossing her curls to the side with a slight frown. “Nothing, just thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
Natalia snorts, pushing a stray spiral out behind her ear. “They don’t visit very often, so… it was weird.”
“So, why the fake boyfriend?”
“You stepped in. You did it to yourself,” Natalia retorts.
I chuckle and let the meal cook. “Okay, yes, but you were already lying to them, so why?”
Natalia shrugs. “They want me to be happy.”
I lean back against the counter and cross my arms. “And are you?”
She toys with her fingers, her nails painted lilac purple, and her shoulders curve in, her head hanging between them. “I have my bakery.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It’s a sufficient enough answer.”
“It’s not,” I mutter. “They’re still traveling?” I stir one last time now that it’s ready and leave it to reach for a bowl.
She nods, cautiously pulling a stool at the table. “Can I sit?”
“Yeah.”
“They have an RV now,” she murmurs, and her fingers toy with the paper box she delivered my cupcakes in. “So they’re driving around.”
“I thought they were in Europe until I saw them in your bakery,” I say, scooping the mac and cheese into the bowl.
“They were,” she mutters, and I don’t miss the resentment in her voice. “I guess they saw what they needed to see already.”
I grab a big round spoon and slip it into the mac and cheese, pushing the bowl in front of her. “You never went with them.”
Natalia blinks down at the bowl. “What’s this?”
“Mac and cheese,” I say and go to wash my hands at the sink. “So, why didn’t you go with them?”
“You made me mac and cheese?” Natalia eyes me suspiciously as I dry my hands, as though my intentions are nefarious.
“I did,” I say and toss the paper towel into the trash bin.
“Why?”
With a sigh, I lean with my hands on the table. “Because you like mac and cheese,” I tell her. “And this is better than whatever you make out of the box.”
“My box is just fine, thank you,” she grumbles.
I arch a brow and she gives me a look.
“I heard it,” she snaps, and I tame my childish giggle. “Don’t say it.”
“Why didn’t you travel with your dads?” I ask again and she finally, hesitantly, picks up the spoon.
Natalia eats the first spoonful, her eyelids fluttering closed as she moans softly before she goes for another spoonful. “I wanted to open my bakery.”
“That’s it? That’s the only reason.”
Natalia nods with her mouth full. Liar. “Are you going to Lana’s birthday party next week?”
To distract myself from questioning her further, I walk away to occupy myself with something else. “Of course I am,” I answer. “It’s on Halloween. I love Halloween.”
Natalia snorts and I wash the few dishes in the sink, stealing a glance over my shoulder to find her smiling down at the bowl. “You love Halloween?”
I scrub at the pot. “I do.”
“Since when?”
I shrug. “Since I was a child.”
Natalia cackles. “Sure, okay.”
The dishes are done and I have nothing else to keep my hands busy—to keep my hands off of her. I turn and lean back against the sink, crossing my arms and tucking my hands in my armpits for self-control. “You love Halloween,” I say. “I’m sure you’ve had your costume picked out since last year.”
“I’m going as a fairy,” she mutters with a shrug. “It’s basic, I know—”
“It’s not basic.”
“—I just…I don’t have a lot of energy.”
“What?”
Natalia refuses to tell me what’s wrong, but her not having energy for Halloween? That’s the most suspicious thing I’ve ever heard.
“I don’t know.” Natalia pokes at her food. “I thought about going as Scarlet Witch but we decided to do a group thing, which is much more fun. At least now I have the headpiece for next year.”
I try not to let her see the way my heart breaks a little. Her voice is sad and small, and so unlike her in every way.
“So, you’re going as a fairy?” I ask.
“A slutty one.” Natalia chuckles. “Very good look on me.”
“Slutty fairy?”
She shrugs. “Why not? Something’s gotta be magical, don’t you think?” And she winks.
I choke on the laughter that bubbles in my throat before it breaks out.
When I shoot her a grin, her eyes sparkle just as she breaks out into a raspy laugh.
I fall into a fit of laughter with her, taking what I can get from this moment before it fades.
I try to settle in it, slow down time in my mind as if I have the power to do so.
But since I don’t, I try to imprint the sound into my brain and put it away into a filing cabinet for bad days.
For later, when I’m in bed and missing her, wishing she’d let me be hers. Holding her.
“Whats so funny?” She laughs again. “It’s slutty in a feminist way. Like I dress how I want and fuck whoever doesn’t like it. It’s not my job to make them comfortable. Slutty doesn’t always have to mean something bad, Rowan.”
“I wasn’t not laughing at that—I would never,” I say. “I’m a fucking feminist.”