The way she looked at Tess when she thought there was no one around to see. The sadness.
The love.
Beth and Tess weren’t roommates. Beth and Tess were living together. I think of al the times Tess came home, and how Beth was almost always with her. I think of al the pictures Tess had, al those guys. And always, in every single picture, Beth was there holding the camera. Beth, who Tess was real y looking at.
Beth and Tess were together.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“What?” Claire says, and I tel her. Her eyes go wide, but I can’t quite read the expression in them.
“Did you know?” I ask, but I don’t get to hear her answer because the ferry docks and we al have to go back to our cars. Or, in my case, bike.
I think Claire wil wait for me when I get off the ferry, drive me home so we can talk more about what I’ve just realized, but she doesn’t.
I’m not that surprised, though. If I’m shocked, she must be … I can’t even imagine what she must feel. Tess, with her endless string of boyfriends, goes off to col ege and fal s for her roommate. Her girl roommate.
I ride home, dazed, and just sit in the living room, thinking. When Mom and Dad get home, I look at them. I wonder if they know.
I look at them, at their tired faces, their sad eyes, and no, I don’t think they do. I didn’t know, and I saw more of the true Tess—her sweetness and the dark underneath it—than Mom and Dad ever did.
Should I tel them?
No. It isn’t my story to tel . It was Tess’s, and if she’d wanted to share it, she would have. But she kept it to herself.
We al have our own untold stories, and maybe this is what I can give Tess. I can let her keep her story, the hidden part of her heart, close to herself.
I just—I hope it is stil with her. I hope that the self she knows is stil somewhere inside her. I hope she …
I hope that deep inside, in the places none of us have been able to reach, that Tess is stil there.
is—wel , having him talk to her isn’t necessary. But then, deep down, I know it hasn’t real y been about her, not like I wanted it to be since the first time I looked up from sitting with her and saw him looking at me.
Eli’s waiting for me when I get to the hospital, sitting in the waiting room leaning intently over his notebook, pen in hand.
He looks up when I come in, though, like he knew I was coming. Like he’s been waiting for me.
I tel myself to put a clamp on my brain. I know my heart isn’t the problem. The heart is just a muscle and what makes it beat faster is the thoughts pounding in my head, Eli’s name kick-thudding through me.
The brain clamp isn’t real y working, though, and I swear I feel it crack when he sees me and smiles. I force myself to think of Jack’s face when he spoke about Tess, to remember how sure I was that I could make it change, that I could make that look mine. That I could make it about me.
The thing is, Eli’s never once looked at Tess like Jack did.
The thing is, Eli’s not Jack.
The thing is, I have no idea what to do. I haven’t ever been wanted before, and even though part of me fears I’m seeing something that isn’t there, an even bigger part of me fears that I am seeing something I never have before. That I am seeing something real—and for me.
“Hey,” I say, before he can say anything. “I—this isn’t—Tess’s not getting any better. And I don’t … I don’t know if she ever wil .”
I didn’t realize how true it would sound, how true I’m afraid it is, until I say it. For al the rage and fear that has driven me to the hospital day after day, something else has too. Hope.
I did believe Tess would wake up. I couldn’t imagine a world without her ful y in it. And trying to picture it now leaves me facing another truth I thought I’d grasped but real y hadn’t.
I love Tess. I want better for her than this. I want her to come back, to be here, to be whole.
“I’m sorry,” Eli says, and I have heard those words like rain for months, over and over again, but they are new now. Eli is looking at me, and I see that he means he is sorry for me. For how I feel. He has always been able to cut through the words I push out, but it’s more than that.
He sees me.
I’m going to tel him he doesn’t have to meet me anymore. I’m going to say thank you if my lips can remember how to form those words. I’m going to …
“I’m going to go see her,” I say. “Do you—do you want to come with me?”
I am—I have—said what I want to. For someone who is so good at snarling people away, I sure suck at it now.
But then, I don’t want Eli to go. I wish I was better at lying to myself, but that wish vanishes as he smiles and says, “Yeah, of course,” like there was never a question at al .
We pass Clement as we’re walking to Tess’s unit. He waves at us and says, “Abby, maybe I’l see you soon?”
“Like, right now?” I say, and he laughs his wheezy laugh and heads down the hal .
