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21
JAMESON
What have I done?
What the actual fuck?
I sit by the side of my bed and run my fingers through Lily’s hair while she sleeps on my pillow. Horror rolls in like a cold front.
What have I done?
I don’t know how long I sit there. A long time. I can’t tear myself away. This is the last time I’ll touch her. I have to stop touching her.
The bargaining is pathetic. I’ll run my fingers through her hair five more times. Then I’ll get up. Ten. Fifteen. Another five. I want to do this all night, until the sun rises. I want to do this forever.
I can’t.
I won’t.
I’ll get up and leave her, because that’s the only right thing.
My chest feels bloody and painful when I finally get to my feet, lean over, and kiss her temple. I let myself touch her hair one more time. Kiss her cheek.
I’m not sleeping next to her tonight. I’m not putting her through that ever again. I’m not putting her through any of this again.
There are things I need to do.
First I get my phone and check my messages. All my siblings have texted me.
Remy: ??? U okay?
Mason: Hey—are you sick? Text me and let me know if you’re all right.
Gabriel: Covering for you at the office, asshole. Can you give me a sign of life?
I open up the group text with all of us in it.
Jameson: I’m alive, no cause for alarm
I put my phone on the couch, where any further buzzing won’t wake up Lily.
Then I get in the shower. My skin doesn’t fit, like I’ve woken up in somebody else’s body, but that’s not what it is. This is how it feels to come to my senses. Thisalwayshappens. I go too far and it doesn’t change anything. I still live in this same crime scene of a body afterward. I need to calm down, at leastbeginto accept this, before I do anything else.
The shower helps, but not much. I stand under the hot water until it runs cold.
Back in the bedroom, I tiptoe around and listen to Lily breathe while I collect clothes. Boxers. Jeans. Socks. Clean T-shirt. It’s not very cold out, but everything is more intense right now, so I pick a long-sleeved T-shirt and pull it on.
I’m shaking by the time I leave the bedroom and close the door behind me.
This is the part I hate the most. The inevitable comedown. All the adrenaline’s gone. All the righteous fury is gone. I’m left with shame and grief and choking sadness and no idea what to do next. It takes a while for my brain to catch up with all the dumbshit things I do.
In the meantime, I go to the kitchen. Snowball sleeps in his little nest. He’s been working on that thing so diligently. I don’t know if he’ll ever want to leave it, or if he’s going to want his cage for the rest of his life. Wouldn’t blame him either way. I clean the whole thing, staying quiet so I don’t wake him up. I top off his seeds. It’s already full, so a few seeds spill on the floor of the cage. I get him clean water. I leave the bag of birdseed right next to the cage so she won’t miss it.
A laugh starts low in my belly when I’m closing his cage door. Feels like throwing up. Unstable. Unavoidable. I put a hand over my mouth and go outside, all the way to the beach, my feet six inches from the water, and laugh.
What was I thinking?
I have a woman and abirdin my cabin.
