“Tomorrownight.”
***
Theprospect of intimacy had me wired with copious amounts of nerves throughout therest of my workday and on the train home. It had been years since I’d sleptwith someone. I could remember who it was with—a guy named Theo, who I’d beenseeing for a few weeks in my mid-twenties—and I could remember how it hadbeen—decent, satisfying, but not earth shattering. But I couldn’t recallfeeling this rattled beforehand. Surely, I had known that we would sleeptogether, but had I felt likethis? So certain and soassuredthat the first time we had sex would be a pinnacle of certainty that this wasit?I shook my head to the passing trees, buildings, and a neighboring train,because no, I had never felt like this before. Not ever, not once. And that wasterrifying. And, he still didn’t know. What if he found out after we slepttogether, after we both knew, with clarity, what we were to each other?
Itwould be cataclysmic.
“Ihave to tell him,” I muttered to the silent woman sitting beside me.
Shebelonged to the melancholy man across the aisle, who had been mourning hersudden and tragic passing for three long and lonely years. Caught in the middleof an avoidable turning point in their relationship, an argument he’d started,neither of them had seen the car as it ran through a red light. Neither of themhad said goodbye, not realizing that they had to, not so soon, and he’d blamedhimself ever since.
“What?Are you talking to me?” he asked, turning from the window across from mine.
Startled,I shook my head. I’d never learned to not talk to them. “N-No, sorry. Justthinking out loud.”
“Oh,”he muttered, nodding. “Okay.”
Heturned back to the window with a forlorn sigh and I felt the push to saysomething, to make him feel the slightest bit better. It weighed me down,pressing against my shoulders with an invisible grip, and I wished for it to goaway. I had my own problems to deal with, my own life, but the longer I willedit away, the more force was added. By the time he had reached his stop, I wassweating and drowning under the pressure, while her merciful eyes pleaded andbegged amid the images of their sweet and happy relationship that had endedfar, far too soon.
“Wait.”
Theman paused, frozen with his hand on the back of his seat. “Huh?”
“Sheforgives you.”
Hisbrow furrowed, his lips frowned. “What—”
“Theargument and the accident. You were having a bad day, and she forgives you forthat.”
Againstthe seat, his fist clenched and beneath the layer of stubble along his jaw, hismuscles tightened. “Who the fuck are—”
“Sheloves you, she always will, but she wants you to be happy. She worries aboutyou, and if that woman from the office will put a smile back on your face, shewants you to go for it.”
Hiseyes flooded, then blinked rapidly as he furiously tried to keep himself fromcrying in front of a mysteriously meddling stranger. “How the hell do you—”
“You’rekeeping her here.” I gestured toward the seat beside mine. He couldn’t see her,but it was occupied. “When you feel the bed move late at night? When you’retrying to sleep but can’t? That’s her laying down, trying to comfort you.”
Hisbroken face crumpled and the battle against his tears was lost. They spilledover his cheeks and onto the dirty train floor. I hated this part, when peoplerealized I was telling the truth, when they knew I hadit; the sixthsense, the third eye,somethingthey were desperate to possessthemselves. They always had more questions I couldn’t answer, always wantingmore from me than I could give. And this man was now preparing to miss hisstop, but I had my own life to deal with.
“Whatis she—”
“Youhave to go.”
Hemade a move to sit down. “I can miss my—”
“Please,I have nothing else for you.”
Thebroken heart he unsuccessfully tried to hide, was displayed in the never-endingstream of tears on his face and the defeat was reflected in the shallow sighthat passed through his nose. He nodded once and thanked me profusely as hecollected his things and ran for the door. The woman across from me smiled andbowed her head, grateful that I had done what I did, probably assuming, likehim, that there was nothing more I could do. But the truth was, I had lied tothem both. It was simply that I hadn’t wanted to. Because for once, my life hadbeen more important to me.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
VINNIE
“It should be illegal for a sky to look likethat,” I commented, shaking my head in utter amazement at the sheer volume ofstars speckling the backdrop of crisp darkness.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”Greyson’s dad, Sebastian, agreed. “I don’t even miss the city most of thetime.”
“You’re full of crap,”Greyson laughed, pointing across the pool at his lookalike father, his otherarm wrapped around my brother’s shoulders. Then, he turned to me and said,“He’s always talking about how much he hates being up here in this shit-holetown.”
