Nate’s movement catches my eyes. The only light coming from the outdoor pool lights breezing in through the high floor to ceiling glass windows and door. He turns his head to face me, his eyes connecting directly with mine.
Fear slams into me at one-hundred miles an hour. My mouth opens and then closes. Fuck it. I already know that he absolutely despises me, so I may as well ask him right now, while it’s just us two.
“Do you blame me?”
He doesn’t answer, but his eyes don’t move off me either.
“It’s not about you, Tillie.” The venom that drips off every syllable is evident. I don’t need him to say anything else to know that he does. “But you have until the day after tomorrow to move the fuck out of my house and out of my life.”
I wince, even though part of me knew that was coming. “I will.” He’s hurting too, Tillie. He’s hurting too.
Then he sits up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “You are the worst thing that ever happened to me.” I don’t answer, because I know he’s not done. “You gave me life.” He looks at the coffin and then comes back to me. “And then ripped it away from me like you’re the goddamn Grim Reaper.”
“Nate…”
“Save it,” he exhales calmly, his head tilting back to rest on the chair. “I don’t want to hear shit.”
“I lost her too,” I whisper, the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. I choke on my next words. “I didn’t even get to finish The Wizard of Oz. We started it the night before, and—” My words are mumbled, unable to speak.
Nate stands, and storms out of the room. I’ve pissed him off. I spoke when I shouldn’t have. I squeeze my eyes closed and stand, making my way to his now vacant chair. My hands tremble as I reach out to touch the smooth glossy casket.
I clench my fist when I realize I can’t touch it. Fear rips through me. How do you survive a war that has one enemy—you.
I jump when I see the edge of the book I was reading her last night come into view. I see Nate’s tattooed hand, the words E L I T E stamped into each finger sprawled out over the cover. I lick my lips, swiping away the tears.
“Finish it.”
When I reach for the book, he takes a seat on the chair and yanks me down onto his lap. His arms feel like home, but the feeling that’s crashing into me is something more distant. Like this is the beginning of the end between him and I. For good.
I stare at the book for—I don’t know how long. The last time I held this, we were sitting together on my bed. I zone in on a small speckle of scratch near the Lion’s orange mane. That imperfection was there last night. Before all of this happened. It sounds silly, but it’s as though everything is rolling into me in brutal waves and I’m for sure about to drown.
“Finish it, Tillie,” Nate says, snatching the bottle of Jack that was on the small table beside his chair.
I clear my throat, only for it to swell again and tears to pour down my eyes. I flip to the page I was up to and begin reading. We read Micaela her final story, even though hers ended far too early. Like an unfinished project.
“Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries, I believe there are no witches left; nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. But, you see, The Land of Oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world…”
I think to myself about the irony of that line. For I too, know of a place similar to Oz…
Tillie
I wake the next morning to the scent of cedar, leather, and soap surrounding me, with familiar tattooed arms and a hand possessively wrapped around my upper thigh. Nate has me curled into his chest like a baby. I slowly inch up until I see his face tilted back, asleep with his hoodie completely covering his eyes and nose. I slowly wrench myself out of his grip, before my eyes come to everyone who was asleep in here last night awake and watching us.
I divert my gaze and slip off his lap quickly, no longer scared to wake him.
Madison is crying again.
I rake my fingers through my hair and grab the almost empty bottle of Jack that’s on the floor, taking a sip.
“Leave it alone.”
They all stay silent. I slowly stumble my way into the kitchen. I know that I should tidy myself up, but why. What’s the point of putting makeup on if my grief is just going to wash it off. There is one thing I want to tackle before the burial. I need to box up her belongings and I’d rather do it sooner than later. Like ripping off a band-aid, only so I can spill my blood all over the floor for everyone else to see.
Elena comes into the kitchen. “Hi, honey. Would you like some coffee?”
I shake my head, my fingers clenching around the bottle.
Her eyes find the movement, but she offers me a small smile instead of judgment. “Very well.”
“I was hoping to box up her belongings today if that’s okay. If I’m going to be out of here by tomorrow, I’d like to get this part out of the way now. While I’m feeling brave enough to do it, at least. I know after today I won’t be feeling very brave.”
Elena pauses, her eyes are rimmed bright red and the dark circles that are indented under them have intensified. “You don’t have to leave, Tillie. You will always be family.”
“I appreciate all that you have done for M—us. I do. Thank you. But there’s no need for me to be here anymore.” I
