His breath was heavy. “Can we not discuss this right now? Can we not… Can we not make any decisions right now? Can we just deal with this when we get to Japan?”
“Are you not listening to me? Have you not heard anything I’ve said?”
“I heard you. What do you want me to tell you? ‘It’s fine, let’s just end it’? I’m not going to say that. I love you, Solène. I’m not just going to give you up without a fight.”
I was quiet then.
“And I’m like eight thousand miles away from you. I can’t do anything from here. I can’t… Fuck.Fuck.You promised me you’d come to Japan.”
“I know I did.”
“Youpromised.” His voice was quaking.
“I know.”
“Please just come, and we can figure it out then. Please. Please.”
Windwood’s spring break was for two weeks at the end of March. Georgia’s family had invited Isabelle to join them on their annual ski trip to Deer Valley. I let her go. That it happened to coincide with the Japan tour dates did wonders for alleviating my guilt.
On Saturday afternoon, after Isabelle had safely departed, Daniel came by the house to sign the school’s annual tuition contract. He did not bring up Hayes and we managed not to argue.
“Make sure you email me your itinerary,” he said. We were standing in the driveway: he, leaning against his car; me, pulling letters out of the mailbox.
“I will. As soon as—” I froze. There in my hand was a large manila envelope. No return address. Postmark: Texas.
I dropped it, shaking.
“What’s wrong? What is it, Solène?”
I could not speak.
“What is this?” Daniel picked up the package from the ground. I could see the phallic outline in his hand, taunting.
“Don’t open it.”
“Whatisit, Solène?” He tore open the envelope and looked inside. “Did you order this?”
“Yes. Yes, I typically order dildos and then cry when they arrive.”
His tone shifted, the realization settling in. “Did someone send this to you? What the hell? Solène? Did someone sendthis?”
I did not respond. He reached into the envelope, withdrew the note enclosed, and read it. “What the fuck? Solène, who sent this?”
“A fan.”
“Afan? What kind offucking fansends this? I thought they were all sweet little girls like Isabelle.”
“Most of them are. Some of them are not.”
“How long has this been going on?”
I told him.
His face fell. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want your judgment. It’s okay, I’m taking care of it.”
“You didn’t want myjudgment? Solène. Icareabout you. I’m always going to care about you. Something like this happens, it’s serious. You need to tell me. Fuck my judgment.”
