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I can’t trust the people I care about not to hurt me. And I’m not sure I can trust myself not to hurt them, either.
Friendships suck.
* * *
I look at the clock on my phone on my way to the car and figure that I better head home if I want my grandfather not to notice how long I’ve been gone. But I have one more stop to make. On my way out to the car, I call Maura. She’s the final ingredient in my plan: someone to answer the prepaid phone if it rings.
“Hello?” she says softly. I hear the baby crying in the background.
“Hey,” I say, and let out my breath. I was worried Philip would answer. “It’s Cassel. You busy?”
“Just trying to clean some peaches off the wall. You looking for your brother? He’s—”
“No,” I say, maybe a little too fast. “I have to ask for a favor. From you. It would really help me out.”
“Okay,” she says.
“All you have to do is answer a cell phone I’m going to give you and pretend that you’re the receptionist at a sleep center. I’ll write down exactly what you have to say.”
“Let me guess. I have to say that you can go back to school.”
“Nothing like that. Just confirm the office sent over a letter and that the doctor is with a patient but he’ll call them back. Then call me and I’ll handle the rest. I don’t think it will even come to that. They might want to verify the office really sent out the letter, but that’s probably it.”
“Aren’t you too young to be living a life of crime?”
I smile. “Then you’ll do it?”
“Sure. Bring over the phone. Philip isn’t going to be back for an hour. I’m assuming that you don’t want him to know about this.”
I grin. She sounds so normal that it’s hard to recall a sunken-eyed Maura perched at the top of the stairs, talking about angels. “Maura, you are a goddess. I will carve your likeness in mashed potatoes so all can worship you like I do. When you leave Philip, will you marry me?”
She laughs. “You better not let Philip hear you say that.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Are you still? I mean, does he know?”
“Know about what?”
“Oh,” I say awkwardly. “The other night. You were talking about leaving—but, hey, I guess you guys worked things out. That’s great.”
“I never said that,” Maura says, her voice flat. “Why would I say that when Philip and I are so happy?”
“I don’t know. I probably misunderstood. I gotta go. I’ll be over with the phone.” I hang up, my hands slippery with sweat. I have no idea what just happened. Maybe she doesn’t want to say anything over the phone, in case people are listening. Or maybe someone’s there—someone she couldn’t talk in front of.
I think of Grandad saying Philip was working her, and I wonder if I misunderstood. Maybe she really doesn’t remember what she said, because he hired someone to take those memories from her. Maybe she doesn’t remember lots of things.
Maura opens the door when I ring the bell, but only partway. She doesn’t invite me in either. Unease roils in my stomach.
I look at her eyes, trying to read something from them, but she just looks blank, drained. “Thanks again for doing this.” I hold out the phone, wrapped in a slip of paper with directions on it.
“It’s fine.” Her leather gloves brush mine as she picks up the cell, and I realize she’s about to close the door. I stick my foot in the gap to stop her.
“Wait,” I say. “Hold on a second.”
She frowns.
“Do you remember the music?” I ask her.
She lets the door fall open, staring at me. “You hear it too? It started just this morning and it’s so beautiful. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”
