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Jamie’s eyes are clear when she looks up, her chin raised. “Thank you,” is all she says.
Miss Lockhart nods, her lips ticking up, before walking away.
Jamie’s quick to shove the papers in her bag, discarding them completely. They should mean more to her, and I don’t understand why she looks so… sosomberabout it. When she looks up, I say, my heart in my throat, “Congrats. That’s huge, right?”
Jamie nods in acknowledgment but doesn’t speak.
I push out an exhale and say, unsure if I want the answer, “So why don’t you seem all that happy about it?”
Her gaze drops as she shrugs, and then she sighs, lifting those melancholy eyes to mine. “It doesn’t really make sense without you, Holden.”
Jamie
I’d considered not going to school, like, ever again, but since I’d made it this far, I figure… what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, right?
Now, I’m sitting in the passenger’s seat of Holden’s truck, and as much as I want to pull out a marker and lift my skirt to draw, I don’t. It’s not just Holden’s presence that makes me want to escape… it’s also the fact that we’re going to Esme’s. The same Esme who opened her door for me on Saturday morning right after Holden and I fought, and I almost passed out in his front yard. As soon as I got in my car that day, I wanted to drive the four hours to Gina’s house. But that would’ve been crazy. So I ended up on Esme’s porch, tears flowing, my shame and remorse on full display.
I couldn’t stop crying. Not even when she held me. Not even when she took my hand and led me to her couch and begged me to tell her what happened. I didn’t tell her about Holden. Instead, I told her about my past. My life. Because I think, deep down, that’s where the pain stems from the most. And the regret that I was harboring? It was merely due to my belief that things were starting to change for me. I didn’t expect to befixed,or healed, but… I wanted achange,and I felt like I was so, so close.
“Jamie?” Holden says, and I can feel his eyes like daggers on the side of my head.
“Mmm?” I respond, resting my head on the window. It hurts way too much to even look at him anymore.
“Why did Dean have to tell you to breathe?”
My heart sinks, and I push out an exhale. I could lie, make up something to spare both our feelings, but would be the point? “Beaker—my mom’s boyfriend—he used to hate the fact that I existed. I wasn’t allowed to speak when I was home. And on days when he was coming down from his high or going through some kind of roid rage, even my breathing would bother him.” I clear the lump in my throat, and sit taller, but still refuse to look in his direction. “So when he yelled, when he was angry, I tried not to breathe around him. It’s stupid—my reaction—and it’s not your fault.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he says, his voice low, “I scared you enough to feel like that?”
“Not intentionally,” I reply, hoping he believes me. “Look, Holden, my trauma is my problem, and it’s my responsibility to heal from it. I can’t expect the rest of the world to work around me. You didn’t know, so…”
“But Dean did.”
I glance at him and look away just as fast. I can tell he’s hurting. So am I. And neither of us canchangethat. “Regrets are useless,” I mumble.And I refuse to hold on to them.
He doesn’t say anything more, and when we get to Esme’s house, I step out of his truck and inhale my first full breath since I got in. Esme’s sitting at the little table on her porch, and she stands as Holden and I make our way toward her. “Hi, sweetheart,” she says, rushing down the steps to hug me. I don’t like it, but I hug her back anyway. I don’t want her to treat me any different, but at the same time, what can I expect? I bared my soul, and now my burdens are hers.
“Do I get a hug, too?” Holden cracks, and Esme releases me to give him the same treatment.
Once they’re done, she stands in front of us, her smile sad. “No work this afternoon,” she says, hands clasped. She looks between us, and I can see her nerves taking over. “I was hoping to take you somewhere?” She’s looking at me, but she’s talking to both of us.
“Where?” Holden asks.
“You’ll know when we get there.”
Since Holden’scar is a two-seater, she has Holden drive us in her SUV to… her church. As soon as I realize where we are, I reach into my bag and make sure I have enough markers to last an entire… what? Sermon? I have no idea how this works, but it’s not really my thing, and if she expects me topray, I don’t know if I can do that. Not even for her.
Holden’s the first to step out, and he rushes to her side, opens the door for her. I get out from the back seat and look up at the church. Besides the giant cross above the door, it looks like any other building.
“Where’s everyone else?” I ask, looking around at the mostly empty parking lot.
“They’re there,” Esme says, linking her arm with mine.
I glance at Holden, questioning, and he merely shrugs.
Esme doesn’t lead us to the main double door of the church. Instead, she walks us to the side of the building, and through a glass entryway that leads to a foyer. “In there,” she whispers, pointing to a closed door. The closer we get, the more I can hear the murmured voices coming from behind it. Holden opens the door for us, and the moment he does, my blood turns cold. In the middle of the room there’s around ten people—men and women, different ages, different races. They sit in a circle, all facing each other. I turn to leave, but Esme holds my hand, her frail grip making my eyes drift shut. Liquid heat forms on my lashes, and she whispers, “You don’t have to talk, sweetheart. Just listen.”
I inhale deeply, my chest rising with the force, and Esme’s weak squeeze of my hand has my eyes opening and landing right on hers. Eyes red, filled with emotion, she says, “Please.” And she reminds me so much of Gina. Wanting to help me. Tohealme.
