I’d also learned five years ago how to drive her away. And despite everything in me desperate to do the opposite, I knew that was what I had to do.
“Even without the ball, though,” I said, already hating myself as I formed the words, “you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“Oh yeah?” She tilted her head to the side, and I could tell she was biting back tears. “And what was that?”
I summoned the worst version of myself, smirking up at her and rolling my eyes as if I weren’t dying inside. “You know,” I said, as if we were in on a secret. “You’ve always had a thing for me, right? So you got to see that through, and same for me. Win-win.”
I watched as the last hope of repair left Amy’s eyes. She sucked a deep breath in through her nose– I could see her nostrils flare with anger as she did– and just nodded.
“Got it,” she said, her voice matching mine now. “Lucky me. I’ll go tick that off my bucket list then.”
She lingered for a moment with her eyes narrowed, as if expecting me to try to have the last word, but I didn’t want it. I just wanted her to go, and take with her the risk that I would choose to be selfish and trap her in this mess with me. So I stayed quiet, trying to keep an image of nonchalance on my face as her bravado slipped for just a minute, letting a tear slide down her face. She wiped at it, embarrassed, and took off running down the street.
It wasn’t until she turned the corner that I let my own tears fall.
Chapter29
Amy
Ididn’t need the cards to tell me what Phil was doing; I’d seen the warning signs when he’d broken down in my arms just over a week ago. Had I imagined it would happen so quickly? No. But part of me had known it would happen eventually, and it hurt just as badly as I’d known it would. It felt like something inside me, maybe the version of me that had always loved Phil, was trying to claw itself out of my chest. And the last thing I wanted was to spend my time crying about a boy in bed, even if that boy was Phil.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from doing a reading when I woke up late Wednesday morning. There was something comforting in the shuffle of the cards; something cathartic about letting the tarot tell me how to feel.
I opted for a three-card spread to represent past, present, and future, focusing all my energy on Phil. Which wasn’t hard, given that his smug face when he’d driven me away was all I’d been able to think about since it had happened.
For the past, I drew the Hanged Man, upright. It stood for sacrifice. Martyrdom. Phil had been sacrificing his entire life for Ethel since her first fall years ago. I tried not to let my mind go to the place it wanted to– thinking that he’d been playing the martyr by pretending to be with me all along.
For the present, I drew the High Priestess in reverse. Since she normally represented intuition and being in touch with one’s feelings, the opposite was repression. Lack of centre. And based on how easily Phil had shoved his feelings down last night, this didn’t surprise me either. He hadn’t even seemed scared or upset. Just resigned. Cold. Completelyunfeeling, even.
Finally, for the future, I drew a reversed Two of Pentacles. Upright, it would have symbolised balance and adaptation. But reversed, it foreshadowed the opposite. Disorganisation, loss of balance, overwhelm. The things I’d seen coming a million miles off for months, but which now seemed more inevitable than ever.
I tried to find it in myself to feel empathy for him; to remember that he was slowly, cruelly losing Ethel after having already lost his parents. I knew that on some level it was his trauma from their death causing his reaction now.
But still, he’d been so horrible to me, and so easily. I knew he was probably scared shitless, but it didn’t make it okay that he’d said those things to me. If anything, it made it worse, because he’d made the deliberate decision to say what he knew would hurt me the most. He knew how to get under my skin– he always had– and he’d pushed the exact right buttons to make me hate him.
And I did. I hated him more than I ever had. So no, there was no room in my heart that morning to feel sadness for his future. At least I’d been right, I supposed, even if it was at the expense of my own happiness.
* * *
On Thursday,Phil finally texted the group back whilst I was trying to distract myself with work, and I flung my laptop aside onto the bed to read his message as soon as it came through.
PHIL
Hey everyone, sorry for the radio silence. Ethel had another fall on Tuesday, which was why I rushed out. Sorry for not updating you sooner. She’s mostly okay, but it’s gonna be a bit intense around here for a while, so I’m going to have to bail on the fantasy ball. Anil’s forcing me out of the house to play D&D, so I’ll be there tonight, but probably without any snacks, sorry.
The responses from the others came in thick and fast, including relief that Ethel was okay, understanding about the ball, and offers to help however they could. Jack was the last to reply, still only a couple of minutes after the initial message, and I knew exactly what would happen.
About five minutes later, I heard a knock at my bedroom door. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fend him off forever, so I took a deep, centring breath in, letting my eyes close, telling myself I could do this.
“Come in.”
The knob twisted, and Jack’s face appeared in the growing gap in the door. “You got a minute?”
“For you, always,” I said, hoping I was appropriately communicating my sarcasm. “What do you want?”
“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked, settling onto the mattress at the foot of the bed. “Mum says you’ve been here all day today and yesterday, but I would have thought you’d be in town. What happened to Ethel?”
I recounted what Phil had told me, and Jack’s face dropped in worry.
