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He was good. He was better than good. I’d give him that. And up until a year ago, he had me fooled. The sad thing is that sometimes I wish I was still fooled, because there’s something safe about floating through life on a cloud of ignorance. It is, as they say, bliss after all.
Sometimes it felt as if my sanity was hanging on the edge of a tiny little crack, and every day that crack got a little bit bigger. And every day I wondered, is this the day that I’ll shatter? Is this the day that I lose it and ruin the perfect lie that is my life?
Turns out Sunday wasn’t the day for cracking and spilling. Nope. It had been no different from any other that I could remember. I’d gotten up early, gone for a run, had breakfast with Mom and Isaac, and after a quick shower, got dressed for church. I wore a pale pink skirt and a sleeveless white blouse, my hair pinned back and only a hint of gloss on my lips. Understated and proper, just like the girl I was supposed to be.
Dad always left early—said he needed time alone to go over his sermon—and we joined him half an hour before service began. I played the piano and sang a few hymns. He did his thing, and the people, well, they gave him their love and money and that was that.
But as I sat there beside my mother in the first row and watched and listened as my father talked about forgiveness and acceptance, I felt different. It wasn’t just that I felt betrayed and angry—I’d been feeling those things for months and months. No, it was something more devastating to me. I didn’t see sunbeams anymore—they’
d disappeared along with my mom’s bright and easy smile. They’d been replaced by a darkness that seeped deeper into my family every single day, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Forgiveness.
Acceptance.
What. Ever.
I wanted my sunbeams back, and I totally didn’t see that happening anytime soon because I knew there were some things that were unforgiveable. Some things that the truth could never fix. And that realization was probably the saddest moment of my life. Considering I was seventeen, what did that say about my future?
So I was still pondering all of that stuff Monday afternoon as I sat in the library waiting for Trevor. Mrs. Henney came by and asked if Trevor was okay. I smiled and said he was fine, aware that the two girls one table over were listening closely. What else could I say? It’s not as if I knew anything, and besides, it felt weird discussing Trevor behind his back.
Mrs. Henney hung around a few more moments, as if waiting for me to offer something more, and when it was obvious that I had nothing, she cleared her throat and moved on.
Hailey was on her way home from her camping trip, and she’d texted me at least twenty times in the last half an hour. They were nauseating and super fluffy texts filled with happy faces and the name Link. I was happy that she was so into this guy, but I had to be honest, I was a little jealous as well. How could I not be? The texts. They were unending.
Hales: do you think love at first sight is real
Me: no
Hales: I think it’s totally real
Me: I think lust at first sight is what you’re talking about
Hales: you’re wrong
Me: then why ask
Hales: because you’re my friend and you’re supposed to agree with everything I say
Me: that I am and no I don’t
Hales: wow, you’re grumpy
Me: yep
Hales: so do you think Link is hot or what?
Ugh. Insta love is annoying.
It wasn’t until I read Hailey’s last text that I realized I’d been waiting in the library for nearly twenty minutes. I sent Trevor a text—he was super late—and waited another five before scooping up my bag. I was irritated.
I thought of that slow crooked smile and the way he’d looked at me. I was irritated, and—there was no other word for it—I was disappointed. For some stupid reason I thought we’d connected Saturday. We lay beside each other at Baker’s Landing for a long time, not touching, but somehow it felt as if I was wrapped up in Trevor Lewis. And that had felt…nice. No. Nice is too easy of a word to describe what it felt like, but for now, I guess it would have to do since I had nothing else.
Tossing my bag across my shoulder, I marched out of the library, wincing when I walked into the sunshine. I checked my phone one last time and muttered to myself as I took off down the sidewalk.
He could have at least called to let me know he wasn’t going to make it. That’s what you did so as not to inconvenience someone. And that’s what I was feeling. Very inconvenienced.
I’d taken maybe ten steps when something tingled along the back of my neck. Some invisible radar that made me hyperaware. Slowly I yanked the buds from my ears and glanced across the street toward the park.
