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Where did Lissa get these expressions? Not even my parents said sublime. “So did it work out? With you and Sublime?”
“For that night, it did. Although it seems that now I’ve blanked. What was his name? DJ London, Londoner…” Lissa shook her head and sipped her tea, leaving an electric red–lipstick smile on the rim. “And you found Romeo Late-Night, he was no slouch, following you around, acting pretty love-struck.”
“On New Year’s Eve,” I said, “I guess everyone wants to be a little love-struck. But it feels like such an epic night for me to just…lose.”
“Don’t look so sad. Most people don’t remember New Year’s Eve.” Lissa snapped her fingers. “But there was one other thing— at some point, you told me you were going out onto the fire escape, and you didn’t want me to think you’d left. Because I remember thinking that it was crackers of you. I mean, since it was freezing. The coldest night of the year.”
Blood rushed to my head. “Oh my God, Lissa, you can’t believe how strange that is! Because it must have triggered me to return to exactly that spot a few weeks ago. Wow, so I guess that wasn’t a total coincidence.”
“Speaking of triggering.” Lissa was studying me. “Have you been back to any dance rehearsals at school? Dropped in to see Birdie or anything?”
“No.” I could feel myself get tense. “I keep meaning to. It feels so complicated, seeing her.”
“She’s a person, not a jigsaw puzzle. Go see her. She’d love to see you. What about Bowditch Bridge? Have you been there?”
Bowditch Bridge. Even the name made me think of a blade, recarving my scars. “I’d definitely brave seeing Birdie before I went back to the bridge.”
“It might not be a bad idea, Ember. Especially if you want to reboot.” Lissa’s voice was soft with care. “There’s a term for it, right? ‘Exposure therapy.’ Like the fire escape. Or you sit in on your old dance class, or visit your old dance teacher. Or you drive to the bridge, the place where it all happened. Even if, psychologically, it’s like running back into the burning building.” She tapped her temple. “Because these blackouts that you’re talking about—they’re all in there. They might be hiding in a really dark spot, Ember, but they’re not lost.”
“Right, I know.” My mind wouldn’t stop the whirligig of imagining Bowditch Bridge again. I was acutely conscious of my heart’s acceleration, the idea clenched like a fighter’s stance in the core of my body. “I don’t know. What if I freak out?”
“And so what if you do? Revisit the dance, step by step. That’s what a dance teacher would say. You were going somewhere upstate, right?”
I nodded. “I was on my way to see my aunt. I guess it must have been a kind of thrown-together plan. I’d called her a few days before. And I’d been up there a few times in the fall, a couple of times before that in the summer. So I knew the route. But it was a really bad storm that night. And…I wasn’t alone.” I exhaled a shaky breath.
“Right, I know. You want my advice?” Lissa paused. “Drive it.”
“What? Drive to the bridge?”
She nodded. “That’s the real burning building. I’d go with you, if you want.”
Drive it. “I’m not sure.” I shivered.
Coney Island was one thing. The prospect of this drive was terrifying. And yet, if I were going to do it, I’d have to do it alone. No Kai, no Mom, no Smarty, no Holden or even Lissa. This would have to be my journey.
Reflexively, I checked my texts just to see if Kai had left me anything. No. But it wouldn’t stop me from checking again, in the next half hour.
“Maybe you’d find the flow of what happened,” said Lissa. “Or maybe you’ll find the flow of all of these other moments that you’re missing. But jeez, you look white as a ghost, Ember.”
“It scares me,” I admitted. “Terrifies me.”
“Look, I don’t think you should do any of this before you’re ready. Go see Birdie first, maybe? Touch in with what you know before you head out into something you don’t. Just to make sure you’re strong enough, physically and mentally. You’ve got to be careful with yourself.”
“You’re right. I get it.” I nodded. “Actually, you kinda sound like my mom,” I told her. “In a good way, I mean.”
“It’s been my experience that moms usually mean it in a good way,” Lissa answered.
26
Ember Was Here
I sent Birdie a note late that same night, once I got back from Lissa’s—after hanging out a while longer in her apartment, we’d located the closest IHOP uptown, where we ordered silver dollars with whipped butter and strawberry syrup.
“You’ll come watch me in the pageant? And then in the spring, I get to dance as a witch and a bridesmaid! Who could ask for more, right?” Lissa seemed homesick as she hugged me good-bye.
“You’re incredible, Lissa. Of course I’ll come clap for you.”
She pulled away, her face unguarded pleasure. “Seriously? I’m not too far away?”
“What are you talking about? You’re eight stops on the L.”
Independence was a process, it seemed, and it struck me that Holden was just the same as Lissa in that way. Sometimes he’d seem incredibly independent, and then other times he’d reach out for me as if he were stuck out alone in a field and needed that quick reassurance of cover. “Nutcracker’s opening night is December fifth,” Lissa said softly, “and then it’s March twelfth for La Sylphide.”
“Promise, promise to both. I’d love to come see you.”
On the Lincoln Center subway platform, I’d absently checked again for messages from Kai—none. But I knew it was knee-jerk, that I’d only looked as a way of making myself feel better. The rhythm and tempo of Kai had been established. He happened when he happened, he answered to no rule, and I was coming to an understanding that no matter what I did, I couldn’t control him.
As the train pulled into the station, I saw the letter spray-painted on the column on the opposite side of the platform. The casual sideways A, in gunmetal silver. My heart leapt—what did it mean? It was like a silent wave, or a smile, the signal of his presence. How many of them were here in the city?
The thought troubled me all the way home, where for once—probably due to my scrupulous texting—my parents were pretending that they’d been tucked up peacefully in bed. Dad reading, Mom knitting.
