“You go.”
“She needs you too.”
“I won’t be a part of her destruction. Someone has to tell her how risky it is for her to go out there.”
“Then go convince her. But don’t shut us out.”
He gets out of bed. I feel hopeful he’s coming out of his dark fog. He takes the journal I gave him out of its hiding spot in the floorboard. Grabs a pen.
He writes me a message:Please leave me alone.
Somehow, I can’t argue with him in writing. I scrawl a message out under his:Okay. I’m sorry I ruined your Valentine’s Day. I love you.
He puts the journal back into its hiding spot. Returns to his cocoon. “At least it was memorable.” He pulls the sheets over hisface again. I close my eyes and think of the last memorable Valentine’s Day I had. 1895. James at the St. James. The premiere of Wilde’s play was on this very holiday. The event that set my life as I know it into motion. I feel a sudden chill. It feels like a new version of my life is being set into motion once more.
I head downstairs. I pray that whatever has changed between me and Oliver will shift back with a sunset or a sunrise. A passing storm. Nature’s way of releasing pressure. That’s all our fight was. Pressure relief. I hope. Everyone but Lily and Maud are gone when I get to the living area. They make posters together.
Lily’s reads,No Police Cov—
Maud’s reads,Blood ah go run if—
I sit next to Maud. Grab a poster board. “Is it cool if I make one?”
Maud nods. “Of course.” She continues adding to her poster. Draws a capitalNin block letters. “That sounded like quite a row up there.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Everything okay?” That’s Lily. Concern in her voice.
“I think so.” I shrug. “I don’t know.”
Lily places a hand on mine. “Was Oliver always prone to melancholy spells?”
I want to deny ever noticing Oliver’s moods. I feel as if his sadness is all my fault. Guilt washes over me. I can’t lie to Lily so I say nothing.
The certainty in Lily’s eyes tells me that I’ve told her everything. Without uttering a single word. “Should I go up there?”
I try to put myself in his shoes. He asked me to leave him alone. But Lily might get through to him in a way I can’t. “I don’t think it would hurt.”
Lily stands up. Gives us both a pat on the head. Then she heads upstairs. I hear her knock on Oliver’s door. Sweetly speak his name.
I grab a red marker. Contemplate what to write. But first, there’s something I need to say. “Maud, please don’t be cross with Oliver.”
“Cross? I’m really not.” It’s not her rage that slaps me in the face when she looks at me. It’s the hurt. “But quite the choice of words after the New Cross fire.”
“He’d just been planning the trip for months. It meant a lot to him.”
“More thanthirteen Black lives?” Maud reacts to her own words. “Sorry.”
“You have every right to be upset.”
Maud shrugs. “Thing is, I’m not upset. I’m... frothing with rage. I don’t know how to live like this. Always looking over our shoulders.” She breathes slowly. Attempts calm. “And I suppose—it’s made me see how different things are for all of us. Oliver can go ahead with his plans today because the world didn’t just end for him.”
I put the marker down. I haven’t written a word yet. I take her hands in mine instead. “The world has not ended for you. You still have us.”
“For now.”
“You have Pearl’s.”
