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The men resented me for not allowing them to go. Couldn’t they see that I needed them, too? They were the only thing keeping me grounded, the last barrier between myself and total madness. Without them, I would be lost. I didn’t have the words to make them see that.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Étienne’s voice interrupted my downward spiral of self-pity. “Are you happy now?”
I spread my arms. “Do I look happy?” I asked.
“You look like a hopeless idiot intent on punishing himself and the people stupid enough to love him.” Étienne crossed his arms, barely constrained anger etched over every inch of him.
“Where are the others?” I asked. Étienne shrugged.
“None of them particularly wanted to see you right now,” he said. “Can’t say I blame them; I don’t really want to see you right now, either.”
“Then why did you come?” I asked.
“I wanted to find out why,” Étienne said.
“Why I sent her away?”
“Why you’re so hell-bent on self destruction.” Étienne shook his head, the fight suddenly going out of him. “I don’t understand you. I thought I did, but apparently not. I saw you with her, you were opening up. You were getting better. I don’t understand why you would do this.”
Shame flared in me. “I just couldn’t,” I said quietly.
“But why not?” Étienne pressed. “I know that you’re afraid. Don’t try to deny it,” he cut me off as I opened my mouth to protest. “We all know it. What I don’t understand is why make us stay here?”
“Because I’ll die without you,” I said finally. Étienne’s mouth opened and closed as he searched for a response. “You six men are the only things keeping me sane. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t think I would make it.”
Awkwardly, Étienne clasped a hand on my shoulder. “We are your brothers,” he said. “We will always be here for you. Even when you do something colossally stupid. Which, let me be clear, is what you are doing right now. I love you, but to be honest, I’m having a hard time liking you very much right now.” With that, Étienne left, giving my shoulder a final parting squeeze.
The heavy door clanged behind him, leaving me quite alone again. I slumped to the floor. This is for the best, I told myself. The men will get over it, Étienne as good as said so. I never wanted the girl here to begin with; hadn’t I warned them all it would end in disaster? And now look at us. It all came to show that I had been right, women never led to anything but pain. No matter what, they always left in the end.
But the knowledge that there would never again be another quiet morning with her, no more long, cozy chats in front of the fire, no more impassioned afternoon romps in her bed, in her arms, made my chest constrict painfully. I breathed deeply, trying to shake off the feeling of loss.
It will pass, I told myself. This was only ever meant to be a casual arrangement. Better that she leave now, before anyone became too attached.
I looked out the window again, half expecting to see headlights as she returned, but outside there was only darkness.
Forget it. Forget her. It had been a mistake to ever let her come. We had been doing just fine before she came. For years we were fine. I had my closest friends, and the rest of the world left me alone. I was safe. But she had come in and torn all of that apart, and now even my closest friends couldn’t bear to look at me. She had ruined everything. I had ruined everything.
My aunt was right; I was useless, a waste of space. A familiar black mist descended in my mind as my breath grew short. Of course. This had to happen now, with no one to turn to for help. I swore, desperately struggling to draw enough breath into my lungs.
Abruptly, Isabel’s voice sounded in my mind. “Try to relax. Just breathe. Tell me five things you can see.”
“Birds,” I whispered to myself. “Cages. Window. Birdshit. Door.”
Slowly, I went through the exercises Isabel had taught me, until my breathing returned to normal, the tightness left my chest. When it had finally passed, I knew one thing beyond the shadow of a doubt:
I had made a terrible mistake, and it was too late to make it right again.
21
Isabel
It was nearing midnight by the time I arrived back in the city. Far too late to go straight to the hospital, even if I did know which one my father was in. But Patsy hadn’t mentioned, and in my state of distress I hadn’t thought to ask. Instead, I directed the driver to my apartment building.
“Are you sure this is where you want to be, Miss?” the driver asked, uncertainty in his voice.
