71
Ethan and I watch the Starlight implode from our hotel room at the Venetian. It had been dark when we found the rental car in the overgrown parking lot, too late to book a flight out of Las Vegas. We decided to spend the night. He sits separated from me on the couch in the sunken sitting area of our room, with an ice pack on his knee, the bad one. Kicking Rafe has cost him. His knee is swollen and bruised. Every time I look at it, guilt twists, turning sour in my stomach.
I tried to talk to him on the drive over, had started to tell my story, but Ethan said he didn’t want to discuss it, not yet. Now, we aren’t talking at all, and the silence is killing me. I keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, and I don’t like what I see. His face is devoid of emotion, an empty blank mask. I’m certain there are thoughts behind those dull eyes. He must have so many questions, but he’s keeping them to himself. Or, even worse, maybe he doesn’t want to hear my explanations. Maybe now that he’s seen the real me, he no longer cares.
The TV announcer is talking in a loud, excited voice. I focus on the television to distract myself and see that Rafe was right. A program is airing all about the Starlight’s history and demolition. Three television stations are offering live coverage, each broadcasting from a different angle.
The Starlight is across the street and down a block. If I press my face against the window in our room, I can see the edge of it and the enormous crowd of people gathered in front of the doomed hotel. They roar with anticipation so loud that we can hear them through both the windows of our room and the TV. It’s like having surround sound stereo, the cheers echoing all around.
To me, the crowd seems bloodthirsty. Their applause makes me recall movies about ancient Rome when the spectators would clap gleefully right before a gladiator ran another through with his sword. I almost hate them, all these nameless strangers so eager to watch the past disappear. What dark thing is inside us, I wonder, that makes us drawn to destruction? Why do we yell louder when we watch something unravel in minutes than when we watch something take years to build?
Patriotic music plays over loudspeakers as the grand finale of fireworks goes off behind the Starlight. Each bang of fireworks sounds like a gunshot.
Please let Rafe be gone from there. Let him be safe.
Rafe must have gotten out by now. He isn’t stupid. Surely, he understood the danger. I haven’t forgiven him for how he abducted me and brought me to Las Vegas, but that doesn’t mean I want him to die. Did Rafe find the diamonds? I think it’s unlikely, but who knows? He was desperate, which made him unpredictable.
A laser countdown is projected on the side of the old hotel and casino.
The crowd chants along.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
The explosives are lit. A bright spark begins in the center and, almost too quick for my eyes to follow, rushes to the outer edges of the old building. A bang sounds, so loud and booming that the windows of our hotel room rattle violently.
The Starlight collapses in on itself, a house of cards caught in a breeze. It goes down. A lifetime of memories disappears in a matter of seconds. A huge plume of gray dust rises billowing out of the ruined structure. The debris spreads out farther than the event planners had anticipated. Onlookers who are closest to the spectacle get caught in the storm. They run from it, gagging and choking.
The diamonds are gone forever. I picture them ground into a fine dust by the explosion. Thrown up into the atmosphere to glitter in the sky alongside the stars. When it’s all over, I’m surprised to find that my cheeks are wet. Even though I have mostly terrible memories from the hotel, I didn’t enjoy watching it crumble. It’s just one more thing from my past that’s died.
With a click of the remote, Ethan turns off the TV. The room is dim without its flickering light. The blare of the television is gone, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.
“What…” I trail off, chasing the train of my thoughts. There are things I need to ask him. Things I need to tell him. “I have so many questions. How did you find me?” I still can’t wrap my mind around it. Seeing Ethan at the Starlight had been surreal.
He won’t meet my eye as he answers, “Simple. You put your username and password on my phone when you downloaded the Disney app. My phone saved it. I used that to log into your email account, where I saw the plane tickets you bought to come here.”
“But how did you know about the Starlight?”
“You mentioned it once, remember? Plus, when you went missing, I asked around, trying to find anyone who had seen you. Eventually, a worker at the hotel said a pretty redhead was arguing with a dude three times her size. With that description, I knew it was you.”
The hotel worker who had been clearing off the breakfast buffet. It must have been him.
Ethan’s still talking. “He heard something about a place that started with the word star. I put two and two together.”
“Ethan,” I begin. “I want to explain about what Rafe said. About everything.”
Dropping his head into his hands, Ethan sighs wearily. “I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”
“Well, too bad, because I have to tell you.” So I do. I tell him all about my childhood, about my mom, Brandi, Shelly, Mr. Chen, and Rafe. I tell him about myself. The good and the bad. When I was strong and the many times I was weak. It hurts to talk about it all. Several times I need to stop because I’m crying.
Even my tears don’t bring Ethan over to my side.
When my tale is done, he says, “I don’t know, Tiffany. I don’t know what to say.” He sounds exhausted. His fingers stroke the scar in his eyebrow, rubbing it so hard the skin reddens.
The use of my full name is a pickax to my heart. “Please, Ethan. I know it’s bad. At the time, I couldn’t see another way out.”
“It’s not that. It’s not the photos on the Strip or even the robbery. I understand all of that. You were a child placed in an impossible situation.” His voice has been a monotone, but now it rises. “The part I don’t get is how you never told me any of this. All the time I was talking to you, telling you about my family, my past. You said nothing. I told you things I’ve never spoken aloud before. Never. And you just sat there, holding all these secrets. You didn’t trust me enough to let me in. That’s what I can’t understand.”
My tears fall freely. With a trembling hand, I dash them away. “I should have told you. I’m sorry. So sorry I didn’t. Please.” I can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. It’s another nightmare.
Ethan stands and goes to stare out the window into the night. The many lights of the Las Vegas Strip twinkle through the sheer curtains. It maddens me to see those lights. How dare they shine when my world is going dark?
Without looking away from the window, he says, “Let’s go to bed. It’s late. We can talk about it in the morning.”
He walks past me to the bathroom, giving me a wide berth. The click of the lock when he closes the door so he can brush his teeth is as loud as the Starlight’s explosion. That’s when I know he’s water slipping through my fingers, the ocean pulling away from the shore, the sun running from the moon.
I get it. If I’m being honest and our roles were reversed, would I be able to forgive him? I’m not sure I could. I would feel too misled, too betrayed. My temper and ego would stand between us, an enormous wall too high to climb. Is it really fair for me to expect Ethan to look past all my omissions when I wouldn’t be able to do the same?
We’ll talk about it in the morning.
Yeah, right.
Liar.
I heard it—the finality in his voice. He’s already gone, and I’ll never get him back. Because of my foolish insecurities and mistruths, I’ve lost Ethan. The worst part is I didn’t even get to tell him I love him.