Page 65 of What’s Left of Us

“Don’t say that like we’re eighty.” Atlas scoffs. “We were down there last year.”

“But look how crazy they look now,” I insist. “All squished together in a mosh pit.”

“We are not going down there.” Atlas plays with the back of my hair. I’ve barely cut it since we got together six years ago, and it’s nearing my waist. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not, obviously.” It’s the truth. I became obsessed with music festivals over the past few years, partially because I feel closest to Nat when I’m at one. Partially because they’re just fun. That said, it’s been perfectly fun from up here.

I take a final bite of quinoa before dropping the bowl onto its tray. I rise to my feet, stretch my hands as high as they’ll go.

“Terrible news,” I say, right as the lead singer starts calling out to the crowd. Wild cheers fill the air, and Atlas waits until they quiet before responding.

“Right now?”

“Yup,” I say. Fortunately, since switching to vegan food, my constant breaks aren’t due to vomiting anymore. Unfortunately, nothing can be done to help my cramped bladder. “Stay here with the food. I’ll be back in, like, five minutes.”

“It’s going to take you five minutes to get down these stairs,” he argues.

“Probably,” I admit with a laugh. “But if I don’t go now, I’m going to pee my pants.”

“Want me to come?”

“I think I’ll be okay.” I laugh as I pass him, throwing him a wink over my shoulder. “I might decide to stop at the pit on my way back.”

“Not funny,” he says with a scowl, but it quickly dissolves into a smile.

Despite all our years together, my stomach still fills with butterflies when he looks at me like that.

It only takes me two minutes to get down the grand stand stairs—and yes, I do time it. It takes longer to exit the main arena though, and by the time I’m finished in the bathroom, The Grandfathers are deep into their third song. The entire arena vibrates with bass, with the echoing rasp of the lead singer’s voice.

I’m so focused on getting back to the stands, I almost don’t see her. A solitary figure, standing at the top of the stairs to the arena. From the way she’s looking at me, it’s not a coincidence we’re colliding. She saw me before I saw her, and she’s been waiting.

“I thought it was you.” She doesn’t raise her voice, and with the pulsing music, I barely hear her. And yet, it plunges me into the past, to years and years ago, when she sat at the foot of my bed writing bucket lists. The same lists that one day led me here.

I step closer. The world around us ceases to exist as I bridge the distance, until we’re separated only by the rising staircase.

“Nat.”

She’s not the Nat from my memories. Any of them. She isn’t underweight and shaking. Her skin isn’t pallid. But she isn’t mousy and cowering either. She stands tall and strong, wearing a cute outfit our father never would have allowed. She’s more alive than she’s ever seemed, standing before me like our terrible past never happened.

“Nat.” I say her name again, louder. I’m terrified this is an illusion, that I’m seeing her when she’s not actually here.

My voice doesn’t sound like mine, not to me. But my sister’s body shudders when I say her name. She closes her eyes briefly, grabbing the railing. Behind her, the concert rages on, but here, we are the only people who exist.

I surge on instinct, on pure, selfish need. I hurry up the stairs, moving faster than I have in months. It’s only when she immediately stumbles back that I realize she doesn’t want me to approach. She’s looking at me like she’s afraid of me, and of course she is. I ruined her life. The last time she trusted me, I betrayed her. I watched her drown for months, and when she sank under, I let it happen.

I stop, halfway up. I don’t know how long passes, only that I’m frozen, unsure what to do. How to act. All at once, I am a child again.

Maybe that’s why I do something I haven’t in over a decade.

I place a loose ‘o’ shape against my brow. Wait, unsure she’ll even remember. But of course she does. It’s Nat. It’s really Nat, after all these years, after so many unanswered whispers into the universe.

‘O’ means, are you okay?

The last time I made this sign to Nat, she didn’t respond. I’m not even sure she saw it. I don’t know what I’ll do if she ignores me now, or worse, if she runs, disappearing from my life forever.

Again.

Tears slide down her cheeks as we stand, frozen in a silent stalemate.