The internal conversation started up again.
When had she become so incredibly passive? When? On what day, inwhat moment, had she decided it was totally fine to let life just go on alongwithout her participation? When had she made that decision? To be a follower?To let somebody else choose her path and then follow along blindly?
She could blame Chelsea. Shedidblame Chelsea, at least partly. Chelsea had shattered something inside her,something important, something independent. She used to be strong and feisty,but now? Now she just…wasn’t. She could blame Marti, too. Sure. But that wasthe thing: it wasn’t Marti’s fault. Marti was just being Marti. In all theirtime together, she had never acted any way other than who she was. Spencer hadto admire that. Was actually envious. Marti knew who she was. She knew what shewanted. Reached for it. Grabbed on.
Not Spencer, though. Spencer had apparently forgotten how to reachfor things. How to grab on. Now she just kind of floated. Drifted.
Spencer had become a flounderer.
Emotions bubbled up in her again. They’d started yesterday, afterher talk with Lucy, after her forced look in the mirror. Things had begun tosimmer, with an occasional bubble here and there, like a thick sauce in a pot,left on low on the stove, a bubble here, a bubble there. It was a mix ofdisappointment, shame, and anger, combining into a sour stew in her stomach.That last one had been most prominent, much to Spencer’s surprise: the anger.It was a weird realization, to understand you’re angry at yourself. But shewas. She had anger. Lots of it. Brewing up from deep within her, bubbling likelava, threatening to eventually spill over and out. Spencer wasn’t an angryperson. She rarely yelled. She never swore. But right now? She was dangerouslyclose to her breaking point. She didn’t understand it, but she could feel it.
Thus: jewelry.
She finished the earrings, put them in their own little velvetpouch, and reached for her bead board. On to the next project. She’d go allnight if she had to.
Creativity and her focus on it—they were the only things keepingher sane right now. Keeping her from examining what a disaster she’d made ofher life. Of what she was doing to Marti’s life. They were going to have tohave a talk. Soon. She owed Marti that. She had no idea what she was going tosay. Or how. She hadn’t thought it through yet. After spending time with Lucy,Spencer felt an odd combination of relieved and lost, like she had finallysolved a difficult riddle but had nobody she could explain it to.
A roll of black leather had been on sale a couple months back andSpencer had snagged it from the craft store with no idea what she’d do with it.Travis’s necklace was brown leather and thicker, so she couldn’t use this onenext time he needed a repair. Her brother thrived on routine, and a change assimple as his necklace going from one color to another could send him into atailspin. So the new leather roll sat in the stack of other spools of variouswire and elastic. Now it caught her eye. She picked it up, looked at it as sheturned it in her hand, and an idea formed in her head.
She needed to stay busy. To not think. To not analyze. To notdwell.
Just focuson the leather, the silver, the tools. Feel them in your hands. See the piecein your mind.
Spencer reached for more findings and kept working.
* * *
In all the years Rebecca had known Nick Scarfano—and she’d knownhim longer than shehadn’tknown him—she had never seen him look quite this bad. Not after the hit he tookin college that had broken his collarbone. Not the day he was going to proposeto Michelle. Not the morning after his bachelor party. No, this was far, farworse. He lay in the bed with his eyes closed, his skin a sickening gray, hishair stringy. Somehow, his enormous frame seemed small in the white sterileroom. Nick had always been a huge presence. Strong and loud and big, the guywho sucked all the air out of the room, the guy you couldn’t help but notice.This quiet, subdued,smallman was the complete opposite of what Rebecca was used to seeing, and it madeher stutter-step in the doorway, have to brace herself against the frame andtake a second to just breathe.
Nick opened his eyes then and focused on her. Without hesitation,she launched right in, because the best way to deal with this was head-on.
“Jesus, you look like shit,” she told him as she crossed the roomand waved a finger up and down his body. “This gray and sallow thing you’ve gotgoing on? Definitely not a good look for you.”
Nick’s body moved as he gave a silent chuckle; Rebecca saw hisshoulders move. “You don’t like it?” His voice was more of a croak thananything else, and he cleared his throat.
“Absolutely not. I recommend going back to that healthy flesh-tonecolor you wore earlier.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Rebecca pulled a chair close to his bed and sat. She closed herhand over his forearm and they stayed that way for several moments. Finally,Rebecca spoke. “My God, your arms are hairy.”
Nick’s laugh bubbled up from deep within him and rumbled out ofhis mouth. Then he groaned. “Ugh. Don’t make me laugh, Becks. Come on.”
“Seriously. It’s like a little bear cub lying here on the sheet.”
“Stop,” he pleaded, as he laughed harder. “Ow.”
“You big baby,” Rebecca said, but her tone was gentle. Once hislaughter subsided, her eyes welled as she whispered, “You scared me.”
“Get in line.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.”
Nick studied her for a beat before he spoke again. “You know whatwent through my mind? In the midst?” Rebecca shook her head and Nick shiftedhis gaze to the acoustic tile on the ceiling. “I’m having this pain in my armand I can’t take a breath, like there’s a fucking hippo sitting on my chest.I’m sure I’m having a heart attack. The first thing—theonlything I couldthink was that I’d never see my baby.” His dark eyes filled with tears, and asRebecca watched, one spilled out the corner, left a wet path across his skin.
Rebecca tightened her grip on his arm, uncertain of what to say.His tears were a foreign sight to her and they took her by surprise, so shestayed silent and present.
Another beat went by before Nick cleared his throat and took aswipe at his eyes. “So,” he said, his voice firmer than it had been sinceRebecca came into the room, “I need your help.”
