Chapter Twenty-Four
‘How was the class?’ Emmett asks as the door to our hotel room clicks open.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling ill at ease. The hotel, the money he seems to have, it must have come from loaning the painting. Mari said, didn’t she? That they paid to loan it. He’s been keeping it from me this whole time.
‘Good,’ I tell him. My stomach clenches tight. Dr Dave would tell me to eat. I just don’t feel like eating.
Emmett comes to sit next to me and I think, he knows that I know! He must do. He can tell that something has changed.
‘Why did you stop drawing, Luna?’
I take a breath in and out, ready to tell him that I’m not answering that.
But I’m already doing so much lying, we both are, and though it’s necessary, it doesn’t make me feel good.
‘It reminded me of everything that I’ve lost,’ I tell him. Finally.
He breathes out. I’m not sure I realised that he was holding his breath. ‘Luna.’ he’s crying. So am I. ‘I’m so sorry, Luna.’
He’s apologising for what happened when we were younger. But I don’t want to talk about that again. Really, what does any of it matter?
Or maybe my oxygen levels have plummeted, and I’m not making any sense.
‘I know you are,’ I tell him, putting my hand lightly on his forearm.
It feels like there’s an electrical current, and it’s running directly from me to him.
‘It’s not about that. Just Dad and… you know.
I’m really tired. I’m just tired…’ I trail off.
Emmett doesn’t know what’s wrong with me because I can’t tell him.
I wish I could, though. I wish I could go back to when we were younger, the summers before everything happened when I felt like I had a purpose, a direction, even if it was the wrong one.
Or maybe it was never like that; maybe I’m looking back through rose-tinted glasses. Perhaps life is just relentlessly hard.
I don’t know if Emmett too feels the shift between us. Or maybe the air tonight really is supercharged.
‘We need to talk, Emmett,’ I venture, trying to steady my voice.
‘I know. Where do we start, though?’
‘Where it began. With the painting.’
He nods.
‘The people who ran the gallery – they know Gregor.’
Another nod. He wipes his eyes.
‘Okay.’
I feel breathless again. Have I taken my meds tonight?
‘They said Gregor told them that the person who had The Edge of Always knew Earl. Gregor said he was like a grandfather to them. That this person was left it after Earl died. Who do you think that might be, Emmett?’
‘You know.’ His eyes are red, his face tear-stained. I’m battling with myself, desperate to take away his hurt.
My vision starts to go blurry. Emmett is lying to me, but I’m lying to him too. How did we get it so wrong?
‘They said that this person had the painting for a long time. I can only presume that they sought out Gregor because they knew he’d had dealings with Earl in the past.’
I’m so woozy, I can’t catch my breath. Anger and regret, a maelstrom of darkness takes me over.
‘Luna.’
‘I presume that person would be quite rich now.’ I make a show of looking around the hotel room. ‘Having loaned a famous art museum a genuine Spencer.’ My voice is hoarse.
‘I’m sorry.’ His voice cracks. ‘I wanted to tell you.’
‘I don’t understand. Why didn’t you, Emmett?’
‘Luna!’
It’s flashing before me then, a montage of our final summer together. A series of freeze frames, each more devastating than the last. The guilt. Regret at everything I lost. Is my life, filled with regret, flashing before my eyes?
Maybe it is.
In the blink of an eye, it’s over. Around me, everything is black.