“It’s taken me so long to put my mind at rest, to understand that horrible things happen to relatively good people, but no matter how hard I try, this part of me always felt in limbo between grieving her and an urgency to fill this void she left.” She shrugs, uncertainty masking her face. “I don’t know how to be okay, and you showing up like this?”
“Maybe it’s okay to hurt,” I offer, knowing she isn’t looking for advice from me. I’m the last person she’d turn to.
“Is that what you are?” Her head tilts, her gaze burning into me. “Hurt?”
I close my eyes, collecting my breaths like they’re earnings. When I open them, Palmer is waiting. “I still remember the day my sister died.”
“Your sister?” She inches closer to me. “I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t meant to.” I shove my hands in my back pockets, uncomfortable with being uncomfortable. Vulnerability isn’t something I’ve been taught. “It was ten years ago. I was eight. She was just shy of her fifth birthday, so certain I’d make her dreams come true and have a real unicorn at her party. Penelope was a force to be reckoned with.”
The memory of my baby sister is too much. This is why I’ve pushed her down, made her disappear in my mind. Until now, seeing Palmer still hurting so bad, so lost in her own grief, forces me to acknowledge we aren’t much different.
“She wanted to go swimming that day. Henry was at the house to watch us. He was distracted with a girl in the upstairs bedroom, not to mention the lines of cocaine on the table. I was eight, but not stupid.” I swallow hard and continue. “I pushed Penelope out of my room, told her I’d help her into her swimsuit after I finished doing whatever I was doing at the time. It was meaningless. I can’t even remember what it was that distracted me from my sister. My uncle found her face down in the pool an hour later, wearing her pink-striped bathing suit. He tried to revive her, pressed on her fragile chest until the paramedics showed up, but it was too late.”
“Marek.” My name is as soft as velvet, trying its hardest to sooth me, make me not feel less than, but nothing ever will.
She takes another step towards me, but I hold up my hands, stopping her. I don’t want her affection because she pities me in some way.
“No, I want to talk about it.” I nod, ready to speak these words I’ve held in for so long. It’s a big secret, a lot of weight to carry around. “Henry told my mother I said I would watch her. He blamed me, an eight-year-old, for the tragic death of his own baby sister. After that day, my own mother could barely look at me. My father had always been absent, but it created an even bigger hole in our family.”
“You were eight, Marek. None of that was your fault.”
“That’s why Henry’s been spending the last ten years trying to make it up to me. Offering me the bid at Glass Heart Academy, equipping me with the best and greatest things money can buy. Everything bought and paid for with blood money.”
“Did you ever try to tell your parents the truth?” Palmer sits on the brick wall of the stairs leading to the building. She eyes the spot next to her, and I reluctantly take it.
“Once, but it didn’t matter. The damage had already been done. Only Henry and I know that when he stumbled down the stairs and found her, he could barely stand up on his own. How he sent me back inside the house to clean up his mess, too afraid my parents would see the truth. And I did it all. It’s why I don’t go in the water. My parents sent me to a therapist, and they believe the trauma caused my brain to forget how to swim. Like subconsciously reprogrammed my brain.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because you aren’t alone. Every day, I feel that void you’re talking about. My loss turned me into a monster. Yours carried you into the arms of one.”
“Two fucked up souls.” She pats me on the leg. For the first time, we understand each other. We’d never reached this point before I fucked everything up.
“No more secrets between us, Palmer. Now you get to decide whether you’re willing to dance