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“What are you talking about? You’re my family.”
“Yeah, and look at how I’ve treated you. I let you take the fall for me over and over, with our foster family and with the cops.”
I hold my breath, unsure how deep into this subject she’s willing to go.
“I know I ruined your life.” Her features pinch in pained regret. “If not for those charges, you could have gone to college. You wouldn’t have had to struggle to find a job. That’s on me.”
She shakes her head and starts to turn, but I stop her before she can walk away.
“It doesn’t have to be like this. We can help each other. Cornelia can help you. She’s generous and—”
“Don’t you see what I’m trying to tell you, Maren?! I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to share a shitty apartment and split the rent and force you into some dead-end job, knowing I’m holding you back. You have what I want—what we all fuckin’ want…a way out.”
“What are you talking about?”
She glares at me out of the corner of her eye. “No offense, but for someone so smart, you can be a real idiot sometimes. It’s an insult that you can’t see what’s right in front of you, the differences between us. I’m going to wake up in fifty years and be in the same place I’ve been my whole life: job I hate, shitty boyfriend, couple kids. And that’s fine, but you’re sitting on a gold mine—and I’m not talking about your job with these rich snobs. I’m talking about that talent you’ve had your whole life.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t? Nancy and Bob begged you to apply to college. They knew you would’ve gotten in anywhere you applied. Tuition and shit would have been taken care of, but you didn’t do it.”
“Yeah well, it worked out, didn’t it? I got charged with a felony that spring thanks to you. My scholarships would have been revoked immediately.”
“Yeah, you’re right, and you didn’t give a damn. You didn’t even get mad at me. It’s like you just laid down and accepted it like it was exactly what you deserved.”
I don’t speak, scared I’ll say the wrong thing.
“Do me a favor, will you?” she says, finally looking me straight in the eyes. “Move on.”
“I don’t know how.”
She smiles and shakes her head, pushing back from the railing.
“You’ve always known.”* * *By the time I get back to Rosethorn that night, the house is dark and quiet. It’s late, sometime past midnight. Ariana caught the last bus back to Providence, and I went with her to the station. We stood at the ticket booth and I cried, but she didn’t seem sad at all. My hands wrapped around her, squeezing her against me, and she didn’t pull back, but she didn’t hug me tight either. When I let her go, she stepped back and held up her bus ticket, studied me for a long beat, and then turned and pulled open the door to go inside the terminal. Maybe I could’ve gone in to wait with her, but I didn’t.
I hopped back in the car and let Frank drive me home.
We didn’t say a word.
I head up the stairs now, wondering if Cornelia and Nicholas are back from the gala yet. I didn’t talk to either one of them as Ariana and I were leaving the event, but I caught Nicholas’ eye and waved, so maybe he realized I was on my way out. Maybe not. I don’t have the energy to care at the moment.
I walk into my bedroom and turn on my bedside lamp. Our gala dresses lie on top of my comforter, a twisted mess of red and blue. We stripped them off to change back into normal clothes before we went to catch her bus. I don’t have the will to move the dresses yet, and even though this day has been one of the longest of my life, I’m not quite ready for bed. I swap my clothes for silky sleep shorts and a matching tank top, then I take the folded throw blanket from the corner of my bed, wrap it around my shoulders, and head back downstairs quietly, toward the blue drawing room.
It’s secluded enough from the bedrooms upstairs and downstairs that I shouldn’t wake anyone with my playing. I close the doors behind me as quietly as possible and turn on the floor lamp closest to the piano. Its light barely stretches to the keys, but it’s enough.
I tug on the bench, pulling it out from underneath the piano, and sit down, feeling comforted by its familiarity. There’s sheet music propped up on the stand, but I don’t need it for the song I’ve had in my head since I dropped Ariana at the bus station.
