If- Nina G. Jones Page 0,97

of regret poured out of me. I had never said the words to anyone. I never admitted to anyone I was manic when it happened. I had lived with the secret for so long. The loss overwhelmed me: Sarah, Bird, my parents.

“Bird, it happened because of my disease. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when I was diagnosed, it made sense. It wouldn’t have happened if Miller was driving. It wouldn’t have happened if my parents were. I was the cause. I killed her.”

“Ash, you have an illness. And you were just a kid. You didn’t know. There was no way you could have known. You know that what happens during a manic phase is not you. You know this.”

She was right, but for so long I had internalized the blame and I couldn’t let it go.

“I can’t even look my parents in the eye. They were destroyed. My entire family was destroyed because I’m fucked in the head. I still see her . . . in my dreams, the blood, the way she hung upside down as the water rushed in.”

She cradled my head against her chest. “Ash, you need help. Not just medicine. You need to see someone about this. You’ll never get a grip on everything unless you work on this. And I’m just a dancer. I can’t fix this.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got a grip,” I told her defensively.

“I saw the bottles in the bin,” she said softly. “You might have a hold on the swings, but you still have things to work out. You deserve to be happy.”

I hesitated.

“I saw a movie once, and in it, a character said, ‘sometimes good people go to hell because they can’t forgive themselves.’”

“I would agree, except I know I’m not in hell yet,” I replied.

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone who dances in whirls of color, whose laughter looks like tiny fleeting galaxies.”

Bird looked down with a pained look on her face. She didn’t want to feel those words, she didn’t trust them.

“After my sister died, I wanted to disappear. And I did. But you saw me . . . you saw me.”

“You have to promise me, Ash. You need to pick up the phone and see a therapist. Commit to it. You need to want to work on this. Promise me,” Bird said firmly, cupping my face in her hands and looking me squarely in the eyes.

I would do it. Anything to win her back.

“Okay.”

We sat in contemplation for a while and then Bird finally spoke. “I saw you have a record player.”

“You saw correctly. And I have nearly duplicated your collection.”

“Copycat.”

I laughed.

“What do you say we make some art together? Let’s work some shit out.”

So we went downstairs and we danced and we painted until our eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer, and then we fell asleep.

ASH

The next morning I woke up and reached over for Bird. Unlike so many other mornings, I looked forward to feeling a warm body beside me, but the sheets were cool. I hoped she would be making us coffee or breakfast, that we could relive those picture-perfect mornings in her tiny studio on her days off.

With each step I took through the loft, the realization became clearer. I had lost her again.

Then I spotted something on the kitchen counter, it was a brass pin in the shape of a paintbrush. When I left her, I slid this in an envelope with a note and asked Miller to give it to her.

Bird,

Sarah gave this to me and I think she would have loved for you to have it. Keep it safe for me.

- Ash

Now she had a note for me.

Ash,

I can’t let myself get hurt again.

You left me to give me room to grow. Now I’m doing the same for you.

Keep your promise.

- Bird

I eased onto one of the stools behind me as I fiddled the brass pin between my thumb and forefinger. It was my turn to feel what it was like to be left for my own good.

ASH

SEVERAL WEEKS HAD passed since Bird came and went. Fly Bird, Fly is what she did. She flew away from the person who in her eyes, up and left on a hunch years ago. She still didn’t know I knew that she had turned down the tour to stay in LA with me. I didn’t rat Jordan out. I didn’t think blaming her best friend would help anyone and I didn’t want to further devastate her.

I was keeping