Chapter 30 Clarke
Clarke
“Do you think anyone’s going to notice that this Buick is missing from the car wash?” Collins asked as we drove off Boone’s property. “Like, am I going to have to return it or do we think I can keep it?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I said. “How did you even get it to start?”
“I hot-wired it, obviously,” Collins said.
“Which you can’t even be mad at me for because you’re the one who taught me how to do it, and there was no way I was getting you out of there safely on the bike.
” When we were kids spending a lot of time at Boone’s, Collins was into the horses and ranching.
I liked helping him fix old cars and tractors and other farm supplies.
Stuff like that felt like a puzzle to me, and I liked being good at puzzles.
“And the release mechanisms?”
“I asked the ghosties for a favor, which they saw fit to grant,” Collins said with a shrug. “You’re going to tell me to take it back, aren’t you?”
“No, actually,” I responded, “it kind of fits you. Plus, I think if the owners wanted it, they could’ve figured out a way.”
“Does this count as grand theft auto?” Collins asked. “Because I technically told Mom and Dad I wouldn’t do that again.”
“I think the statute of limitations is up on this one,” I said. It went silent for a few beats, and I watched Sweetwater Peak pass us by out the window. It had rained or snowed at some point last night because the roads were wet and shiny.
“Lars,” Collins said when we pulled into my driveway. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“It’s okay,” I said, getting out of the car. I shut the door behind me and Collins did the same. We met at the hood of the Buick. “You didn’t mean it.”
Collins bit her lip. “I did,” she said. “Mean it. I’m sorry if what I said made things worse, but I’m not sorry I said it.”
“Oh,” I said—not sure what else to say. My sister’s words hurt.
“I know you’ve been going through a hard time lately.” Collins slung an arm over my shoulder as we walked inside. “With Sadie gone, and everything with Mom and Toades.”
“And this situation I’ve gotten myself into with Leith.” I sighed.
“No,” Collins said, shaking her head. “I think that’s been good for you. Batshit crazy? A little but still good for you. I didn’t realize how long it’d been since I’d seen a smile reach your eyes until you walked out of your bedroom with him yesterday morning.”
I felt happy when I was with Leith. “It’s been…good to have him around,” I admitted. “Winters are lonely.” Summers too. And falls and springs.
“That’s good,” Collins said. “I just don’t want him to be the only good thing you’ve got going on. You deserve a full life—full of people and things you adore.”
“I have that,” I said as we both walked to my bedroom. Sitting down with me on my bed, Collins gave me a look that told me she knew I was fibbing a little. “It’ll be better when Sadie visits,” I said. “And maybe you too?”
“I’ll be here,” Collins said. “Maybe not all the time, but I am officially making Sweetwater Peak my home base.”
Tears sprang to my eyes, which wasn’t a reaction I was expecting. “That’s…n-nice,” I choked out.
“Aw, Lars.” Collins put her arms around me and held me tight. “If you don’t want me to come back, you could just tell me. You don’t have to let it make you cry.”
“Asshole,” I breathed. “I just…I miss you when you’re gone. It’s hard.”
Collins nodded. “I think you’re a little burnt-out. You and me…we feel things really deeply. Because of that, I don’t think we know how to be casually sad and just feel it. We either have to feel incredible and on top of the world, or else we feel like we’re failing.
“Then, if we can’t fix it, we pretend it doesn’t exist, and we end up weary, exhausted, and unable to claw ourselves out of it.”
“That’s…so true, Olly.” My sister had perfectly described how I’d been feeling throughout the last few months. I hadn’t been able to put it into words.
“Last summer, I felt like I’d lost both things that made me…me: photography and our abilities. I never want to go through that again. I never want anyone I love to go through it either. And when I see you shying away from what makes you you, it makes me sad.”
“I’ve never been into the ghost thing like you, though, Olly,” I said.
“Not just that,” Collins said. “You’re social.
You love this town. You’re quick to forgive and ready to protect.
You love antiques. You have the work ethic that everybody wants.
But right now, you’re drifting. I always used to feel like my worth was determined by the work I produced, and I just want you to know that you’re more than outcomes, Clarke. ”
The tears were back, and this time they overflowed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I said.
“Nothing’s wrong with you, Clarke,” Collins said. “I do think…”
“What?” I asked.
“I think, well, for the not-supernatural stuff, you should talk to someone.”
“Like a therapist?” I asked. I wasn’t opposed to it. I’d just never thought about it before—and therapy and mental health services weren’t exactly easy to access in rural Sweetwater Peak.
“Yeah,” Collins said.
“Why?” I asked. I mean, I’m sure I could benefit from therapy—everyone probably could—but I didn’t know why my sister was bringing it up to me in this moment.
Collins took a deep breath. “Because I think you’re depressed.”
“I’m not,” I said. My vision was fuzzy from the tears. “I mean, maybe I’ve been a little sad but…”
Collins was quiet for a moment and then said, “Do you really think the way you’ve been feeling can be chalked up to being a ‘little sad’?”
No, I didn’t. I think back to my feelings at the car wash. The darkness I felt, even before the ghosts overwhelmed me. The hopelessness and lack of meaning that seemed to swirl around me. The tears were really flowing now. “Some days I’m fine.”
“Being fine on some days is great,” Collins said. “And that might be the way it feels for a while, but isn’t the possibility of being…more than fine on more days worth trying something that scares you?”
“Therapy doesn’t scare me,” I said quickly, and Collins gave me a look.
“Talking about your feelings and your fears and your dreams and all that mushy stuff you hide behind your rib cage doesn’t scare you?”
Well, she had me there. Collins took another deep breath. I wondered how long she’d been thinking about this or if she’d practiced what she was going to say. “I’ve been really worried about you, Clarke. Sadie has been too.”
“You talked to Sadie?” That had been the absolute last thing I expected Collins to say.
“She texted me a few weeks ago. She said you hadn’t responded to any of her texts in a while and that it had been hard to get you on the phone.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t ignoring Sadie on purpose. I was just…overwhelmed.
“And listen,” Collins said. “I know me and my seven hundred unread texts have no room to talk, but that’s not you, Lars.”
“Sadie is worried enough about me that she reached out to you,” I said, mostly to myself. Then to Collins, “And you’re worried enough that you responded?” Collins nodded. “Holy shit,” I whispered. “Do you think there’s a snowball in hell?”
“I’d say the chances are quite high,” Collins said with a soft smile. She was quiet for a few beats. “You know…Brady is back in therapy, and it’s virtual. So you could do it here.”
“I’ll ask him about it,” I said, and Collins gave me a look. “I’m serious. I will. I don’t want to feel this way forever.” That was true. I guess it just took my sister saying something to make me realize that I maybe didn’t have to feel this way forever—at least not all the time.
“I love you like crazy, Lars.”
“Love you back,” I said. “And for the supernatural stuff?”
“I’m not saying you have to treat it the way I do, but maybe you could start small—ask the ghost in your house her name or do your best not to push them out when it gets overwhelming.
I think that’s the part that’s getting to you physically.
You push them out, and they try harder, and then it hurts. ”
What Collins was saying was easier said than done. I had always thought our abilities made her special. That’s why I was so fiercely protective of her. And why I made sure I was charming and nice enough for the both of us.
For me, the ghosts had always felt like a curse.
But maybe I felt that way because I’d never tried to embrace them.
“Okay,” I said. “Start small.”
“And…” Collins said, “if you want to tell Leith…”
I wondered if he would believe me. I didn’t know if I would believe me if I was in his shoes. It wasn’t like I was a witch or someone who could move an object or light something on fire—there wasn’t necessarily a way for me to show him what I could do.
It would hurt if he didn’t believe me, and I didn’t know how I would be able to deal with that.
“And,” Collins continued as she got up and walked over to my dresser, “I have one more thing I think you should do, and I am prepared to help.”
I looked at my sister out of the corner of my eye. She was wearing her mischievous grin. “Oh god,” I said. “Are we going to steal another car?”
“This cannot be the sexiest thing you own,” Collins said, now digging through my underwear drawer and apparently unsatisfied with the solid red boy shorts she held up. “Don’t we have anything with a little more pizazz?”
“Why are you so interested in my underwear?” I asked.
“Because I’m going to take some boudoir photos of you, idiot,” Collins said—still digging.
“Oh sure, of course,” I answered sarcastically, but Collins stopped her digging and turned around, completely serious. “Yeah, that’s not happening,” I said.
“Yes, it is,” Collins said. “Your confidence levels have taken a hit, and this will help.”
“How will this help?”
“You are the most powerful, badass woman I know. But you don’t seem to be able to see it clearly.
Maybe if I can capture it, capture the power I see in you, what everyone sees in you, you’ll start to see it in yourself.
And I think that starts with realizing how goddamn hot you are.
Isn’t that right, Pearl?” My dog was lying in my doorway, with her butt pointed in our direction.
I called that her passive protector pose.
“Jackpot!” My sister pulled a dark green lace thong out of the drawer and twirled it around on her finger. It still had the tags on. I’d never worn it. I preferred a nice, soft, seamless brief.
I sighed and pulled out the drawer next to the one Collins had spent the last five minutes destroying. I reached toward the back and retrieved the matching lace balconette bra.
“Oh, hell yeah,” Collins crowed. “Put them on.”
“This is stupid, Olly,” I said, but I still stripped out of my clothes while Collins arranged my pillows on the bed.
“It’s not going to feel stupid once you see the pictures,” she said. When she turned around, I was covering myself with a blanket. “You’re already ahead of me. We’re going to start with the blanket as a prop anyway.
“I’m going to grab my cameras out of my bag real quick. Start warming up, rolling around on the bed and stuff.”
“Cameras? Plural?” I called after her.
“Roll!” Collins yelled back. In that moment, I racked my brain trying to remember exactly why I missed my sister. Instead of rolling—like she asked—I flopped face down onto the bed.
“I’m so annoyed that my butt doesn’t look like that,” Collins said when she strolled back in. I moved the blanket over it in response. “C’mon, Lars. This is going to feel good. I promise. What’s that song we used to like?”
“I’m not that good at reading your mind,” I grumbled into the pillow.
“The one from The Wedding Singer, I think.”
“ ‘Blue Monday,’ ” I said—still face down. After a few seconds, the new-wave beats of New Order were blasting through the Bluetooth speaker on my dresser.
“Oh, this song slaps,” Collins said and then tugged on the blanket until I was forcefully rolled out of it. “Okay, I’m going to pose you a few times, and then you’ll be comfortable enough to just move and groove, and I’ll snap away. First, come up on your knees.”
“I hate this,” I said, but I was still doing as she asked, which meant that despite my stubbornness, part of me wanted to do this—wanted to feel sexy and confident.
“Liar, liar,” Collins tsked. “So, start on your knees, facing kind of angled between your closet and your headboard, and you can hold the blanket against your chest”—I followed Collins’s instructions as she spoke—“and then look back at me.”
I heard multiple clicks of her camera as I flipped my gaze back toward her. “Oooh yeah, hair flip,” she said. “You’re a natural. Run your fingers through your hair. Gimme a little smize.” I did my best but just ended up laughing. “Perfect,” Collins said with a grin.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, but I felt light. I was having fun. Collins gave me a few more poses, and I started to get more comfortable.
“Make love to the camera!” Collins said.
“What does that even mean?” I asked on a giggle.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve just always wanted to say it. One more—on the Polaroid. Pick your favorite pose.”
I got back on my knees, put my hands in my hair—facing the camera this time. The flash of the camera happened before I was fully ready or in position, before I could control how I wanted to look. I heard the photo slide out of the camera.
“I wasn’t ready!”
“That was the entire point, Clarke,” Collins said. “You don’t have to be ready for everything all the time.” She stared at the photo as it started to develop. “Yeah,” she said. “That one’s for golden boy.”