“Hurting Goober?” My voice was faint.
“She’s never laid a finger on Goober,” Greg said. There was an edge of defensiveness to his voice. “I’m not accusing her of anything, okay? She just said that she’d been having these nightmares…and that she didn’t think she had it in her to be the kind of mother Goober deserved.” He paused. “She’s not totally out of Goober’s life. She comes up when she can—sometimes for the weekend, sometimes not. And they talk every day on the phone.”
I sank down along the wall. “How is Goober?”
“She’s…adjusting,” Greg answered. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be honest. It’s not easy. She asks a lot of questions.”
“Yeah.” Would I ever get to see my baby niece again?
“She’ll be okay, though.” Greg’s voice sounded wistful. “Kids are resilient, Julia.”
“Yeah,” I said again. “I know.”
chapter
49
It was impossible to stay inside, to sit still anywhere, after I hung up with Greg. I walked rapidly along Main Street on legs that somehow managed to keep me upright and moving. The fact that I had no destination did not enter my mind. Just the act of breathing was enough. A swell of black sky, perforated with electric bits of stars, stretched out above me. The street lamps threw yellow halos of light down the sidewalk, but everything else was dark. It was almost midnight. Even the Dunkin’ Donuts at the end of the street was dimmed, the store emptied and shut tight until morning. I pushed on, up the little hill, past the high school, and stared down at the fork in the road. I didn’t want to go look at the yellow house. I didn’t want Aiden. I didn’t want Milo. I didn’t even want Sophie at that moment.
What did I want? The question reverberated back and forth inside of my head. “What do I want?” Had I ever asked myself that question before? Even once?
I want the truth.
I kept going, heading down the road Sophie and I had walked only a few weeks ago when I had first come to town. Had it really only been a few weeks ago? It felt like years now, a lifetime. The smell of rain drifted out from the grassy field we had stood in front of just before she had told me. Or had tried to tell me.
What had she been planning to say? Was she going to tell me she had drowned Maggie that day? That she had held our little sister underwater to stop her crying, to shut up the incessant, nerve-racking noise? Had that been it? I sank to my knees, staring toward the inky horizon. For a long, long time I looked, peering through the shadows, but there was nothing to see.
Nothing at all but black.
After a while I reached into my back pocket and took out my phone. I stared at it for a few minutes before flipping it open, then dialed the number and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Milo?”
“Julia! Everything all right?”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I’m just up reading.” He paused. “So what’s up? What’s been going on? How are things with you and Sophie?”
“It’s…” I caught the word “fine” on the tip of my tongue and drew it back in. “We’re still going through some things,” I said instead.
“Good things?”
I hesitated. “Maybe eventually. Right now it’s pretty hard.”
“Okay.” I could hear him adjusting his position. “Julia?”
“Yeah?” My voice cracked.
“What is it?”
It was such a simple question, such a short, tiny question. But for some reason, I remembered the old story about a little boy who noticed a leak in the dike that separated his town from the sea. The boy blocked the leak with his finger until help arrived, ultimately saving the town from a flooding disaster. I felt like that little boy right now. Except that I had withdrawn my finger and was standing there, watching the water rush out.
“Milo,” I whispered. It was right there. Everything, about Sophie. The mental hospital. Maggie. Drowning. My mother’s ear. But what I said was, “That night in the car…when I leaned over and kissed you.” I closed my eyes, safe again, remembering how soft his lips had felt against mine, how his skin smelled up close, like heat and musk, how our noses had bumped at first and then fit against each other, side by side, perfectly. “Why did you pull away from me?”
I waited, hoping he had heard me. I knew I would not be able to ask again.
“I’ve played and replayed that moment a million times in my head,” he said finally. “I’d do anything to take it back.”
“You would?”
“Yes,” Milo said. “And everything I said after Melissa’s party too. About not wanting to lead you on, and just wanting to be friends. That was all crap. It wasn’t the truth.”
“What is the truth?”
“I was trying to tell you the truth, that night of the prom…”