All of the bullshit of our childhood threatened to roll in on me, the way a storm comes in to the shore, like it doesn't give a goddamn care for anyone else in the world. The infidelity, the unsteadiness, that sense that we couldn't trust our own mother—all of it was still haunting my sister and me. I wanted so desperately for it to just be gone. Once and for all, as Dad would say.
“Ames, I think we have to give each other closure. It's the only way. Nobody else is going to give it to us. Mom is dead. Gordon is dead. Dad is…” My voice faltered. Our dad was the most unwitting man in the history of victimhood.
“He's never going to know. I love him, but he will never know what it was like for us. We can tell him what happened that day in the car, but it won't change that he wasn't there.” Amy said exactly what I was thinking.
“Which also isn't his fault.”
“None of this is anybody's fault. But that doesn't make it much easier, does it? It just makes it this giant clusterfuck of pain.”
Amy opened the clamshell box again and ran her fingers over the pearls. “She sometimes seems like even less than a ghost. Every day forward is a step away from her and her memory. And this stupid wedding has brought it all into focus.”
“I know,” I croaked, my throat dry.
“I mean, Cindy is making me insane, and she's making Luke feel the same way. We both just want it to be over. And all I can think is that if Mom were here and none of that stuff had ever happened, I would be arguing with her like I am with Cindy. Or she'd be making you crazy or making me feel guilty. So what exactly is it that I'm missing so much?”
I knew precisely what she was getting at. “It's the whole stupid myth of the picket fence and the happy ending. It doesn't exist. People hurt each other. We make mistakes. And then we do it all over again. We take each other for granted. We take this moment for granted.” Was that our blessing? Out of the rubble, was that the takeaway? That we didn’t take things for granted? “All the more reason to get married tomorrow, Ames. You love Luke and he loves you, too. And even if you're only happy for a while, that's better than most people get.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I know that sounds horribly pessimistic. I think you two will make it for the long haul. I really do.”
“You hated the idea at first.”
“I didn't want to let you go. And I was worried you were going to get hurt.”
“You can't protect me forever.”
An invisible weight tugged at the corners of my mouth. “But I promised to. After the accident. When you were unconscious and I already knew that Mom was dead.”
Amy turned to me and cocked her head to one side, like one of those adorable dogs with incredibly expressive ears. “Promised who?”
“I promised God that if he let you live, I would keep you safe for my entire life.” We'd never been particularly religious, but at the time, it was the only thing I could think to do. Amy was out cold, head hanging at an ugly angle against the back of the seat. Her eyelids were closed, colored with the palest lavender you have ever seen. She wasn't moving. The cold seeped into the car like a monster, but at least it told me one thing—Mom was gone. And Amy was still alive. The puffs of air that came out of her nose and mouth were wispy little things. Fragile baby breaths. Not like mine. “I couldn't wake you up no matter how hard I tried. My seatbelt had locked up and I couldn’t reach you. To keep us warm. I was pretty sure we were both going to die, so I made a deal with God that if he let us live, I would always keep you safe, no matter what.” Tears ran down my cheeks, but I wiped them away.
“You never told me that.”
“I know. It’s so silly, but I always held onto it. I always felt like I had to abide by that promise or something bad would happen. I swear that's the very last secret. You know everything now. Everything.”
She collapsed into my arms and we both let go. Of everything. The years of pain and torment, of asking a million little questions that started with “what if” and “why”. With buckets of tears, we said goodbye to the quiet moments when we'd doubted the world could ever be a good place for us. We buried the twists of fate that had been haunting us both for too long.
“I love you so much,” Amy said.
“I love you, too.”
“I don't want to have the wedding tomorrow.”
“Did something happen with Luke?”
“No. I still want to get married. I just don't want to have this stupid wedding. It feels like it's all about making other people happy.” Amy pulled a hunk of tissues out of the box and handed me half. She had so much mascara smudged around her eyes that she looked like a raccoon. Surely I was worse.
“Ames. Come on. You have that beautiful dress. Don't you want that moment when you start walking up the aisle and everyone turns and starts saying how beautiful you are?”
She twisted her lips. “Yeah. That'll be fun.”
“The flowers are going to be incredible. Dad and Julia will be here. Fiona. It's going to be amazing. I promise.”
“Will you dance with me at the reception?”
“Try and stop me.”
She smiled sweetly. “Okay then. We get through the rehearsal tonight, then we have a wedding.”
“Tomorrow is going to be perfect. I promise.”
