Left Drowning

“Sabin stopped the bleeding by putting pressure on my back like I asked him. He bandaged me up with piles of gauze and tape. And we left the mess of glass and blood on the floor for my father to clean up. Sabin stayed in my room that night. He stayed up all night, sitting up against my door just to make sure. But I knew it was over, and I knew what to do.

“The week before, I’d found out that when I turned twenty-one I’d be in charge of most of my mother’s estate, including the house. I don’t like to think that she knew what he was like, but … her will gave everything to us. So maybe she knew, and that’s why she left me in charge. So I threatened him. If he stayed the hell away from my family—my family—I’d let him keep that fucking palatial house that he loved so much. He could keep working, he could keep being the Goddamn local volunteer hero, he could keep his image that he valued so much. But he wasn’t going to touch any of us again, or I would take it all. Every bit of it.

“That night, after Sabin patched me up, I had him leave a note on top of the broken glass and my blood. It read, No more. Or I take it all. When we got up the next day, everything had been cleaned up. My father never said anything about it, of course. But after that, all the shit stopped. He wouldn’t give up that house, or the studio in it, or my mother’s money.

“I went to college nearby for my freshman and sophomore years, and so did Sabin for his freshman year. We didn’t want to risk leaving the twins alone with him. Then we all went to Matthews together.”

“So that’s the night that my father tried to kill me. He would have, too. I’d be dead if it weren’t for his pager going off. So there’s no God, no divine intervention. Just a page that happened to come through when I needed it the most.”

Chris holds me tightly, still not looking at me. “Now you know. Now you know how completely and irreparably broken I am. I may have lived, but I am too damaged for you. I am not the person you think I am or the one you deserve.”

Before I can protest, he kisses me. And the longer he kisses me, the more I know that he is trying to say good-bye to me and good-bye to us. Eventually he pulls away.

“I was afraid this would happen. Being with you? It brought everything back just like you said it would. It makes all of it worse. No, don’t look at me like that, Blythe. This is not like what you went through. I told you not to fight your past and to let it into your life because I knew it was something you could deal with. This is different. I can see now that we will never escape this. It was better before when I could hide and just stay with the future. We can’t pretend that you don’t know this truth, and we can’t pretend that this will work between us. I wish that I could be somebody else, but what’s happened to me is inextricably part of who I am. Who I will always be. It made me the person who you think you love. And so you love me either because of that or in spite of it. Both of which are unbearable.”

CHAPTER THIRTY Once Before

Zach and I are alone at the house all night. Both of us are numb. The others have taken Sabin to the emergency room. The minute that Chris finished trying to tell me that we are over, Sabin vomited and started to choke. Chris rolled him over, and when Sabe stopped heaving, he was still unconscious. Chris wouldn’t look at me, but adamantly refused to let me go with them. My hope is that Sabin will have his stomach pumped to all hell or something, and he’ll be okay. So I stare at my phone waiting to hear something.

Outside, an earsplitting clap of thunder a

Zach wakes me early in the morning. He’s showered, his hair still wet, and he shakes me hard until I growl at him. I don’t want to be awake. I want to disappear. He tells me to get dressed and to meet him in the car.

“What is it? Wait, is it Sabin?” I sit up.

“No. He’s okay. I got a text from Estelle. He’s going to be fine. Get dressed.” He hands me a travel mug of coffee. “We’re taking a trip.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just get ready.”

Thirty minutes later, we are driving out of Bar Harbor. Zach’s aviator shades hide his eyes, but I can see determination in his posture and his grip on the steering wheel. He has been unusually curt with me today, but I don’t like being kidnapped.

“Zach.” I touch his shoulder softly. “Where are we going?”

He clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t answer me right away. “You know what I know now, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“In fact, you know more. I didn’t mean to listen in, but yesterday I heard a bit of a conversation between James and Chris. Estelle? She’s … There’s a lot more isn’t there? They’re all in deep shit.”

“Yes.” My voice splinters. “Yes.”

“It’s much worse than I understood. So much worse.”

“I know. I had no idea. Zach, where are we going?”

“I don’t want to talk. Just let me drive.”

I’m exhausted, but I can’t rest. I shut my eyes, and I am haunted by Chris’s stories. The repeated trauma they faced … It’s too much. I know how markedly I fell apart after the fire, and this is so much worse. How they have functioned at all, seemingly so well until now, is impossible to understand. They are tough, all of them, but as Chris pointed out, they have been damaged profoundly. What Chris had to go through, what he endured … What has been done to his body and mind … I have graphic images of his childhood that I ca

I am deeply in love with Chris. He is everything to me. He saved me, and he’s not going to let me save him. I don’t even know how to process that. I don’t know what to do.

“Zach, pull over.” I’ve started to cry now, immediately choking on my sobs. “Pull over.”

Zach veers the car off to the side of the highway, and I can barely see as I get the door open and lean against the guardrail. I vomit repeatedly. Zach gets out and comes to stand next to me with his hand on my back while I empty my stomach, coughing and crying.

“I know, Blythe. I know.”

“Oh, Zach. No, no, no! Please tell me this didn’t happen. Please, I can’t stand this. Please, make it go away. Not them. Not Chris. Not Eric and Estelle. God, not Sabin. Not my Sabin. Oh please. I don’t want to lose Chris, I don’t want to lose him. None of them. We can’t let them go.”

He hands me a tissue from the car and then takes me in his arms. “I know, sweetheart. They can’t … they can’t tolerate relationships. That’s why Chris and Eric are trying to leave us. Our love is too much, and they don’t think they deserve it. Or they’re afraid it won’t last. Or … any number of things. Their attachment issues are wholly fucked up. It’s not their fault.”

We cry together, both of us on the verge of losing the people we are madly in love with and both of us filled with immeasurable anger and heartbreak.

Zach gets me back into the car and buckles my seat belt for me, as I am too hysterical to do anything but fall apart.

“We need to keep going, Blythe. Let’s just keep going.”

I can’t imagine where Zach is taking us, but at this point, it hardly matters. I cry until I have no tears left.

It takes about two hours of driving, but finally I calm down. I can feel that I am shutting off, as if the depression that Chris helped me chase away is reappearing. It’s going to take hold of me, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to fight it this time. Not without Chris.

I realize that Zach has stopped the car. We are parked on a gravel driveway in a tree-filled area that overlooks a huge contemporary house. The hard angles and sleek design feel cold and stiff. It looks to be three floors and the view to the ocean must be extraordinary. Even from the car, I can hear the waves hitting the shore. The house is isolated on what appears to be a huge piece of property. There are no other houses in sight.