Chapter 2
Cassie greets us at the door.
“Thought I smelled gossip,” she says, drawing me in for a hug.
“That’s Evan,” I say. “I smell like bad judgment.”
“And is that…” She sniffs. “I’m getting notes of hell of your own making.”
“My signature fragrance.”
She laughs. “Come in. Let me show you. This is this room…”
“Amazing,” I say, stepping inside and into bad memories. I’m trying my best to tuck my fear away and just be present in the moment. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
Cassie turns on her heel. “Thank you. This HomeGoods fever dream is exactly my style.”
Evan laughs, throwing himself on the couch.
The same couch that Ravi and I pushed against the door to stop the zombies from coming in. But they got in anyway. They…
I take a deep breath. That was another loop. That loop is done. Over. It’s in the past.
The only thing that will come from constantly looking back is an inability to move forward.
“Oh, hey! Willa the Killa.” Luke appears out of nowhere, shooting me with finger guns.
I mime flicking the bullets out of the air. “Luke the Nuke. How are you?”
“Did you get the cooler?” Cassie asks him, annoyed. “The thing I fucking sent you to the car to get?”
He moonwalks, poorly, out of the cabin.
Cass throws her hands up. “He’s so stoned. Five minutes without the kid, and he’s high out of his mind.”
“You don’t send me enough pictures,” I say. “Such a cute baby, and I never see him.”
Cassie takes her phone out of her back pocket and shows me her lock screen—baby Theo with his nose scrunched, tongue out.
“He’s a ham,” she says, smiling. Like Evan, she’s not particularly sentimental. But to see her smiling like this at the photo, to stop and notice the affection that manifests in the swell of her cheeks, in the fine lines around her eyes, it’s special.
I don’t want to be one of those mothers who only ever talks about their kid, she’d said to me back when she was pregnant. I don’t want my kid to become my whole personality.
Maybe it’s an overcorrection that whenever we talk, we don’t really talk about him. Or maybe I’m failing her as a friend, somehow. Maybe we’re failing each other.
I always figured that love was enough, the world’s strongest adhesive, that it could hold everything together no matter what. But life is too heavy. The bonds will break under the weight if not supported.
“I’m really proud of you, Cass. You’re such a good mom.”
She sighs. “Thank you. Jury’s still out. It’s exhausting but I love the kid. Here…”
She goes through her phone to show me a video of Theo sitting on the beach in a pair of Cass’s signature dark oversized sunglasses, chilling. “Look at him! Cool as can be.”
“Wonder where he gets it from.”
“Stop,” she says, and I swear I see her blush. “Let’s be real. Not from Luke.”
Wyatt wanders out into the living room, a tie loose around his neck, confused look on his face. “Help?”
Evan kiddingly rolls his eyes and goes over to assist.
“What time does it start again?” Cassie asks. “Should I be getting dressed?”
“Cocktail reception is at five,” I say. “I know you don’t need that long to get ready, but I’m sweaty and want to blow out my hair, so I’m going to go shower, and then do you want to keep me company while I do my makeup?”
“Willa, honey, I’d love to,” she says.
I smile big and cheesy, hit some poses, then take my suitcase into my room.
I close the door and take another deep breath, flip on the lights, draw the burlap curtains, avoid looking at the spot where Ravi died.
At the spot where I died. I do need to shower—and hydrate, my sweat smells like Red Bull—but the last time I was in this shower was with him, death all around us, facing another inevitable end.
There’s no place safe from memories. They’re with you wherever you go.
I take off my shirt, unhook my bra behind my back, slide off my jeans, my underwear. Fold the dirty laundry and stack it next to my suitcase. I listen for my name in the other room, but I don’t hear it. The lack of shit-talking is a pleasant surprise, a welcome divergence.
Today could be different. It feels different.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking, sweet delusion, but why not savor it for as long as I can?
—
Cass knocks on my door but doesn’t wait for permission to enter. She tosses her makeup bag on my bed and flops down beside it. “Get outta here, smokeshow. Your hair looks amazing.”
“I can do yours.”
“I don’t have the patience. Is that your dress?” She points to the open wardrobe.
“What do you think?”
“Babe?” Luke from the other room.
Cassie looks at me, presses a finger to her mouth, and shakes her head. I mime zipping my lips.
“Oh, wait. Luke? Luke!”
He appears in the doorway. “Yo!”
“Do you have the…”
“Yep!” He vanishes for a moment, then comes back to hand her a canned cocktail. “Willa, you want one?”
“Don’t throw it! Don’t!” I hurry over to him. “No throwing.”
“Dude,” he says, passing me a can. “I have a great arm. Ye of little faith.”
“Thank you,” Cass says. Luke leans down and they kiss, and it lasts long enough for me to get uncomfortable. They were very into PDA in the early years, but that faded over time. I forgot what it was like. Cass pulls away. “Now go do something else so I can hang out with Willa.”
“Sure thing,” he says, making another attempt to moonwalk. “Almost! Almost got it.”
Cassie gets up and closes the door behind him.
“That was cute.”
She waves it off. “Have to take full advantage of the kid-free weekend. It’s been too long since either of us got off. Trust, we both need it.”
I open my canned margarita and take a long sip. “What I really need is…another Red Bull.”
“You’re going to die.”
“What?” I nearly drop my margarita and spill it all over myself. “What did you say?”
“If you drink another Red Bull, you’ll go into cardiac arrest,” she says, shaking her liquid liner. “End up on the news.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I set my margarita down on the bathroom sink and take a few deep breaths to settle myself. My forcefully manufactured bubble of optimism is in danger of bursting. The day is young. There’s still so much time for things to go wrong.
Tick, tock.
When will I know if I’ve made it out of the loop? At the stroke of midnight? Tomorrow morning? Never? Am I going to spend the next week, month, year, the rest of my life waiting for another monster to show up? Wondering what horror lurks in the shadows?
It occurs to me, that’s actually not so different from how I’ve been living. Preemptively experiencing misery. Ye of little faith.
“You okay, honey?”
“Water. That’s what I should be drinking.”
“I’ve got bottles in the cooler. And Liquid I.V.,” Cass says. “I’ll be right back.”
She drops her liner into her makeup bag, stands up, and crosses to the door. She pauses, turning back to me. “You’re gonna be fine. You know that, right? Better than fine. I already see it. You seem happier.”
“I’m on my way. Thanks, Cass.” I clear my throat, so my voice doesn’t break. “Only way out is through, right?”
“Right.” She nods and slips out into the living room. I yawn, stretch, shuffle over to the window, and draw back the curtains to let in some natural light, crack it open for fresh air.
In floods the scent of flowers. It’s so strong. Cloying.
I don’t know why the smell has got my hackles up; there’s a window box right outside full of flowers.
I press my forehead to the glass and watch them sway in the breeze.
There’s something about the way the petals move, like they’re restless.
They’re out of sync with the wind. It’s unnatural.
Unsettling, watching these flowers. These fidgeting petals.
I know I’m bleary-eyed tired, and extra sensitive because of everything that’s happened, but I’ve dismissed my suspicions in the past and ended up dead.
Though it’s one thing to be suspect of a masked man in the woods and a random unkindness of ravens and a rotten stench and total darkness at three p.m. Seems a little ridiculous to be afraid of flowers. And I know the fear won’t save me anyway, so I shake it out, let it go.
“Drink up, bitch.” Cassie marches back into the room and tosses me a bottle of water, which, somehow, I catch.