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Julie looked down at her hand and studied the familiar silver barrette. Celeste’s barrette. The one Fi
“Absolutely.”
“Nothing is imported?”
“No. We’re here solely to support New England artists. We have very limited quantities of each item. No two are exactly alike. That hair clip is made by a woman from Martha’s Vineyard. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? We’ve sold a number of her pieces.”
“I bet you have. It’s lovely.” Julie set it down. Her hand was trembling, and she turned and rushed out of the store.
The walk home felt both eternal and not nearly long enough. The volume on her iPod was set high, and she tried to stop herself from thinking, losing herself in the music as she slowly walked home. Or to what would be her home for only a short time more. Dr. Cooley’s words replayed over and over in her head. Maybe you’re missing something obvious. Don’t overanalyze what you see. She’d missed everything. It had all been right there, but she hadn’t been able to see the big picture. Maybe she had known for months now, and she just had not wanted to accept what the world had been screaming at her. Denial had made her blind and stupid. Perhaps pathetically so.
The Watkins’ house looked strange to her today. The front lock gave her the usual trouble, and the stairs to the second floor made the same creak that they always did, and yet nothing felt right. Matt was at school, which was good. Julie opened her laptop and scooted the chair close to the desk while she typed.
Fi
I’m so crazy about you. You know that, right? This thing between us over the past year has been everything that I never knew I wanted. You made me brave and adventurous. You made me laugh. You were charming, and sweet, and charismatic, and you pulled me in.
I fell in love with you. I couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t stop it. But now I have to.
We both know better than to pretend any longer.
We both know that this is over.
I had such a strong sense that I knew you and what it was like to be with you. Because I did. Maybe a part of me knew all along. I don’t know when I realized it, but there had to be a point where I figured it out. Maybe I didn’t want to see what was right in front of me, because I wanted more than anything for this co
I’ll miss that boy that sent me pictures, protected me from monsters, and talked me through deadly elevator rides. I’ll miss the stories about protecting wild animals, coaching football in Ghana, and scuba diving in exotic places. I’ll miss the way you make me laugh, and comfort me, and heal me. I’ll miss all of that. Mostly I’ll miss you. The way we feel together.
But I suppose that I’ve already started missing you over the past few weeks. I could tell that I was losing you. Now everything is about to get so much worse.
I needed to write you just one more time before this all blows apart.
-Julie
She turned off the computer and went to the bottom drawer of the dresser. The T-shirt was old and washed-up, and she touched the fabric with her fingertips. She felt numb. There was one more thing that she had to check. Just to make sure. Just so she would really believe.
Julie left the bedroom and went into Erin and Roger’s room. She stood in the center of the room and turned slowly, looking for what would bring her proof. It wasn’t in here. But the woodcarving sat on a shelf, right-side up now. Mom. Julie thought about the little boy who had made that for his mother and how disco
The house was eerily quiet. Hollow. Isolated, Julie thought, as she walked to the living room. She started at one corner of the room, looking closely at all the books on the tall shelves. Slowly she stepped to the side, making sure not to miss what she knew must be here. When she reached the last shelf, she saw it. The photo album sat on the very top shelf, just below the ceiling. She pushed a chair over to the shelves and reached up, pulling the dark leather book from underneath an atlas. The other books on this high shelf were dusty, but the album cover was clean.
She sat on the couch for a while, just holding the book and putting this off.
Finally she opened it, gingerly turning the pages as she looked at the photographs. She knew these pictures. She had seen some of them before. It was hard not to smile at the ones of Fi
As much as it hurt to turn each page, she was grateful that Erin and Roger were not the sort to store all their pictures digitally. Not like Julie was.
And not like Matt was.
It was too hard to keep looking, so she shut the album.
An hour passed, maybe more. Julie wasn’t sure. He would be home soon. He would check his email and come home.
Finally, the front door opened.
“Julie.”
She stared at Matt and waited. He took his time before speaking again.
“You know, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.
“Yes. I know.”
Matt hung his head. “I don’t know how this got so out of hand. I never meant—”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Julie—”
“Say it, Matt,” she said loudly. “I want you to say it.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for months.” He looked at her now, both fear and melancholy shadowing his face. “I tried at Christmas. And then after New Year’s. But I was in too deep. I thought maybe it would be easier after you moved out.”
“Screw you.” Julie stood up and hurled the photo album at him. “Screw you! Enough with the bullshit. Say it, Matt!” she yelled. “Tell me the goddamn truth for once!”
He stood silently for bit, trying to delay this moment. His eyes glistened as he spoke. “Fi
She nodded, calmer now that he had confirmed what she knew. “Your brother is dead. That’s why Celeste has Flat Fi
“Yes.”
“You’ve been pretending to be Fi
“Yes.”
Julie shut her eyes. She had been piecing this together, but the confirmation hit her hard.
“Do you want to know how he died?”
Julie nodded.
“Two years ago, during the winter. In a car accident. My mother was driving, and the car slid off the road on Memorial Drive, just outside Harvard Square. She hit a tree. The car crumpled from the impact, and Fi