Page 165 of The Long Way Home


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I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.

The pain is shocking, actually. Like I’ve been hit by a meteor. A crater in the centre of me, on fire. Total destruction.

I press my hand into my mouth, clamp down the cries that are trying, trying, trying to come—

Hands trembling, vision gone.

My shoulders shake as the cries come anyway, each of them crushing me on behalf of him.

There’s a bustle in the bathroom.

“—This is the girls’ room,” someone says. I can only hear it vaguely.

It feels like my ears are under water.

I slump against the cubicle wall; my body feels like it’s filled with lead.

“Parks?” Henry calls. I don’t move. “Magnolia?” He knocks. “Open the door.”

I don’t.

He crawls under and into my cubicle.

It takes a good friend to crawl on the floor of a girls’ room of a club when you’re wearing white Mastadon cargo pants from Rick Owens DRKSHDW.

He sighs when he sees me, he licks his bottom lip, tilts his head sad for me.

“You had sex with him,” Henry tells me.

I nod. Henry nods back at me, mouth tight.

“And now he’s staying with her?”

I shrug.

“But he slept with her.”

I nod again.

“Fuck.” His nostrils flare as he shakes his head. “Get up.”

He pulls me up off the ground even though I’m not cooperating. “Up, Magnolia. Now.” He plants me on my feet, holds me steady. “Listen to me — listen! There’s no one in this world that’s worth Magnolia Parks sitting on the floor of a club bathroom.”

I barely nod. He wipes my face with his hands, and it occurs to me I fell for the wrong brother.

Henry’s the better one. He’s just not my one.

“Want me to fight him?” Henry asks with his chin.

He grabs a wad of loo paper, blots my face as he leans against the vanity.

I sniff.

“This is my fault,” Henry says, eyeing my carefully. “I shouldn’t have told you to tell him.”

“No,” I shake my head. “It’s not. It’s him—” I tell his brother and our eyes catch.

“It is him.” He nods once. He looks livid. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

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