“I still expect her. Isn’t that weird? I sat in the park the other day after a run. People walked past, and I caught myself searching their faces with this tiny hope one would be her. I know she’s gone. I know I’ll never see her again. But that little hope just never goes away.”
Freya and Dan had driven around for an hour, talking before they wound up sitting on the bench in Thoreau Bridge Park. The same one where Malcolm had ambushed her on the day she’d decided to keep the Starball a secret forever. The tupelo tree that had been half bald was bare now, and the black river flowed quietly as they talked.
Dan’s car was immaculate inside. There were no fast-food wrappers in the foot well, no debris in the cupholders. It was just an old white Toyota sedan, but Dan clearly took good care of it. She’d never been in a student’s car before where she hadn’t had to take a bunch of junk out of the passenger seat just to sit down. There was a faint smell of Armor-All, and it reminded her of Randall’s truck.
The drive was awkward at first with long patches of silence. Dan didn’t turn on the radio. Every other time she’d been in a boy’s car, they always cranked up the stereo, but Dan just wanted to talk. He’d wanted to know how long she’d been seeing Dr. Garbuglio, why she’d started, if she was taking anything, all kinds of questions. Not in a nosy way. It was more he hadn’t talked to anyone else who’d been through therapy and wanted to compare experiences.
He spent a long time thinking about each of her responses, his brow furrowed as he scanned the glistening wedge of road illuminated by his headlights. Like Lassa, Dan never took his eyes off the road as he drove.
It was strange to see him concentrating on a task. He didn’t smile, and he almost seemed like someone else. Freya asked if they could stop somewhere. She hadn’t meant the river, but nothing in town was open. Now, the roles had shifted, and Dan poured his heart out to her on the riverside bench.
“Was she older or younger than you?” Freya asked.
“She was my identical twin.”
“Oh, wow. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. Different-sex monozygotic twins are really rare, and the female usually has Turner Syndrome.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a genetic defect where parts of the X chromosome are missing. She died from a heart defect associated with it. Her name was Angie.”
“How long has it been?” Freya asked.
“Five years in December.”
“Oh, God,” she breathed.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Or maybe that’s not quite right. It aches, but it’s not immediate, not crippling like it used to be. There’s always the feeling she’s gone, like I’m missing one of my fingers.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, that it will never get better.”
“It does. I used to feel like I was missing an arm. Right after she died, I couldn’t even recognize myself. For a long time, it was like I was watching someone else do everything. I felt like I was haunting myself.”
Freya nodded with her bottom lip tight. She didn’t tell him she was sorry or offer him platitudes. She knew the distance could not be bridged.
“This is just between us, right?” Dan asked with a careful look.
“Yes, absolutely,” Freya said.
“About three months after Angie died, I started swimming in the gulf every day. I would push myself until I was totally exhausted, trying to escape. I kept swimming farther out. I would get as far from the shore as I dared, and then think maybe today’s the day I don’t make it back. Then I would feel at peace, caught in that maybe. It was almost like a game.
“I didn’t quite realize at the time I was trying to kill myself. I kept pushing it and got caught in this big storm that swept in out of nowhere. I was way too far out. I couldn’t see the shore, and the waves got crazy. I was one hundred percent sure I was going to die. And I knew right away I wanted to live. Hey, are you okay?”
Dan became a blur. Freya’s eyes had teared up without warning again, just like the knife drill. She let out a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed her eyes.
“It’ll pass,” Freya said, willing it to be true. It became too quiet. The gentle sound of the river was becoming unbearable. She slipped her hand into her pocket and clutched the Starball.
“I’m sorry. Can you go on, please?”
“Sure. We can stop any time you need, okay?”
“Okay.”
“So, the storm. All I could do was tread water and hope I didn’t get swept out to sea. I was lucky. It blew over quickly. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. When I made it back to land, I was so exhausted I literally crawled up the beach to get to the dunes. I had drifted a long way from where I’d stashed my shoes and my keys and couldn’t find them until it was almost dark. I can remember stumbling home in wet sneakers, feeling ecstatic. I was so happy to be alive. I haven’t been swimming since.”
There was a distant look in Dan’s eyes as he finished the story, like they were a hundred miles apart. Freya reached out and put her hand over his. Dan was surprised, but he didn’t pull away. Freya searched his face. There was something a little too rehearsed about the story. She realized he was holding something back.
“Was that the only time?” Freya asked.
Dan winced at the question.
“No. How did you know?”
Freya shrugged. Dan stared back at her, searching her the same way he’d searched her. She saw the moment where he figured it out, his eyebrows leaping in comprehension.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Oh.”
Freya took her hand off his and put it back in her lap. The light she’d tried to shine on him had revealed her as well.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dan offered.
Freya shook her head. She was very close to getting up and running away. Dan seemed to sense it. He turned towards the river and spoke a little softer.
“I didn’t want to talk about it either. The second time was after we moved here. That’s why they had me start seeing Dr. Garbuglio. He’s better. Better than he seems, I mean. I remember thinking he was just a clown, but he helped a lot.”
“How did you do it the second time?” Freya asked, and then wondered if she should have, if she sounded too interested. Dan grimaced.
“I don’t like to talk about it. Oh, fuck it.” Dan took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists.
“I stole my mom’s valium and drank everything in the liquor cabinet. When she found me, my lips were completely blue. I had to get my stomach pumped, and there was an ambulance. We couldn’t afford it. My mom blamed herself, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit ever. I still do. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.” His voice was raw, and his eyes were rimmed with tears. She was stunned by just how hurt he sounded.
“Please, don’t tell anyone.” He drew a sharp breath through his nose and clenched his teeth, trying to hold back sobbing. Now, she knew why he was always clowning around and never seemed serious. This was the real Dan. She didn’t know what to say, and there was a long stretch before he composed himself.
“I didn’t mean to put that on you. If you want to just go home, it’s okay,” Dan said. He looked completely miserable. She couldn’t say anything. All they could hear was the wind and the river. Freya made up her mind.
“When I tried, it was just like you said. As soon as I was committed to die, I wanted to live more than anything. But that feeling didn’t last. Was it like that for you?”
“Yes. It faded after a week. How long ago was that?”
“A while,” Freya paltered.
“Are you okay now?”
“I feel… I don’t know. Today was a good day. Even after all the bullshit with Malcolm, I’m glad I came.”
“Yeah, I’m glad you came out. You know, people do like you. I know what it’s like to be down in it. After the second time, I was so miserable to be around. I just kept shoving everyone away, trying to escape.”
“That’s been my whole year. How did you get out of it?”
“I didn’t! It was all Cameron. He just kept showing up at my house. Every single day, he wouldn’t leave. For weeks and weeks, even if I wouldn’t talk to him, he would just hang out in the room with me. He missed so much practice they kicked him out of wrestling. I actually hated him. Can you believe that? He found out what happened from my mom and just decided he wouldn’t let go. Never let me shove him away, never told another person. He’s the reason I’m still here.”
“That’s incredible,” Freya said. She wondered if Betty would do that for her. She suspected the answer was no.
“I never would have suspected about Cam. I guess it makes sense. His mom is so nice. She sent us this thoughtful card after Randall died. Then she tried hard to be friends with my mom but, of course, Lassa wasn’t having it.”
“Have you always called your parents by their first names?”
“Yeah, for as long as I can remember. I’m sure it was Lassa’s idea,” Freya said, and she wished she hadn’t brought it up. She didn’t want to think about Lassa.
The conversation trailed off, and they both looked away. She was caught in a swell of thoughts, and it seemed like he was, too. She was just adrift, but then Dan’s fingers closed on hers. It felt so different than when she’d been the one initiating, his intent electric.
“If you get to that place again, you can call me. Maybe I can help,” he offered.
“Okay. The same for you.”
Her cheeks got hot. They held eye contact a moment too long, and she looked away when it got weird. Someone else might have tried to kiss her there, but she was glad Dan hadn’t.
They sat by the river until they both shivered, and then they walked back to his car. The grocery bag full of books had tipped over, and The Void Captain’s Tale sat on the back seat. Dan asked her what it was about. She wound up showing him the whole stack of library books. After what they’d shared, she was far past being embarrassed. To her surprise, Dan was into it. He told her he was about halfway through The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.
Freya lit up. She had many thoughts about Heinlein. The conversation on the way home was animated, and as they pulled into her driveway, she was telling him all about Dying Inside. Dan seemed into it. He said he would check it out after Mistress.
The house was dark, and Lassa’s BMW wasn’t in the driveway. Freya had been talking with Dan for hours, and she didn’t want to stop. She thought about suggesting he come in, wondering how he might react to the invitation, what it might lead to.
But then he yawned deeply in the middle of a sentence, and then apologized. She realized he’d probably been up since early that morning to work his shift at the diner. Freya thought she should probably let him go.
She grabbed her grocery bag full of library books. Her copy of The Fragile Phoenix was in the trunk, and Dan got out of the car to open it for her. After he handed the book to her, she set everything down in the driveway, and then embraced him in a tight hug. Dan seemed surprised, but he hugged her back. They stood together in the red glow of the taillights for a long moment. He was warm against the chill of night.
“Thank you,” Freya said.
“Anytime.” Dan grinned.
“Text me and let me know you made it home safe, okay?” she asked.
“I will. Good night, Freya.”
Freya went inside and drifted to her room, feeling pleasantly lightheaded. Her phone had been on silent mode all night, and she took it from her pocket as she undressed, hesitant to unlock it. She dreaded a missed call or a text from Lassa.
There were six missed calls and four texts when she unlocked her phone, but none were from Lassa. The calls were all from M. LEWIS. Apparently, Malcolm had a new phone. Freya frowned and blocked his new number, just like she had the two before. She wished Malcolm would just die. It seemed like the only thing that could get him to leave her alone.
The text messages were all from Jane.
Freya’s eyes narrowed. They were first messages Jane had sent her in months. Freya had sent the last message, wishing her Jane happy birthday on July 23rd. Jane hadn’t replied. Freya hovered her thumb over blocking Jane, too, but she decided to sleep on it. She would send Jane a text the next day, explaining the situation. For now, she probably deserved to stew on it.
Dan still wasn’t home. Freya could barely stay awake long enough to get his text. She tried to read, but her eyes kept sliding off the page until her phone hummed.
She typed, “Good night, Dan,” in reply, and for five minutes, she tried to make up her mind if she wanted to add something else. She pressed send, plugged her phone in to charge on her nightstand, set the Starball in a hairband beside it, and turned off the light. Freya shut her eyes then, after a few moments, she reached out for her phone to look at the message again.
Good night, Freya.