And then she turned away but still didn’t cry.
My mouth went dry, and I swallowed hard one more time, trying to breathe. I knew she was doing this because she was scared, and me pushing her right now would be the worst possible thing.
Instead, I stood on shaky legs and turned to see Nessa and Natalie and Mackenzie standing there. They had all linked hands and gave me pitying looks. But I knew they were just as upset. So, I nodded tightly and knew that they would comfort Elise where I couldn’t. I was too much for her right now, and I understood that.
But I would be there when she was able to think clearly again. And I wouldn’t be pushed away so easily. Still, for now, I would let her be. And I wouldn’t make a scene.
I walked away from the girl I loved into a house full of mourning and pain and knew that nothing I did would change things or make them better.
This was the beginning of the end. And I had to do the one thing I hated.
I had to walk away from the girl I loved.
And hope to hell she would let me walk back in again.
Chapter 18
Elise
“Elise, darling, you need to eat.”
I looked at my mother and shook my head. “I had an omelet this morning. I’m not hungry for lunch.” I hadn’t been hungry for breakfast either, but I had forced it down, mostly because I knew my mom wouldn’t stop hounding me. Something twisted deep inside. The fact that my mom cared enough to be here for me, that she was alive in order to do it at all, broke something within me, and I didn’t know what to think. Everything hurt. How could Corinne be gone?
It didn’t make any sense. My best friend should be walking through that door at any moment, telling me it was all a joke that had gone too far. I would hate her forever for it, but I would still love her until the end of time. How could she be gone? My best friend since we were five years old, could not be gone.
“I know you did, honey, but will you please eat lunch with us? We’re so worried about you, and we don’t know what else to do.”
I looked at my mother and sucked in a breath. Tears ran down her cheeks, and I didn’t understand. My mother never cried. She got emotional, yes, but she always held herself in check. I remembered my grandmother once saying that she had done it as a child and hadn’t stopped. And I had never been comfortable enough to ask her why. But here she was, crying in front of me. My dad stood in the doorway in his sweater, the one he wore when he was stressed out with work. There were holes in the sleeves, and it was coming undone at the ends. My mother had knitted it for him when she was pregnant with me because she had promised herself that she would learn how to knit. She had made me booties and other cute things that I had worn for as long as I could fit into them. She had knitted a blanket that I still had somewhere. And she had knitted Dad that sweater. She hadn’t made anything else after that. I hadn’t been sure if she’d quit because she hadn’t wanted to fit into a certain box when it came to being a doctor’s wife in their circles, or if she’d chosen to quit on her own.
I had never asked.
Because I was so busy trying to find out who I was, and I hadn’t taken a step back to realize that I didn’t know who my parents were as adults either.
Maybe I wasn’t supposed to know those things. Perhaps children never did. But Corinne’s parents would never be able to see how their daughter grew up. And Corinne wouldn’t be able to question why her parents had made the choices they had—both good and bad.
I hated that.
I swallowed hard, tears falling freely now. My mother sat next to me on the couch, looking through the window at the trees.
“I’m not hungry, but I’ll eat dinner. I promise. I’ll take care of myself. But I don’t think I can stomach anything right now.”
My mother nodded and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, afraid of what I’d do if she let go.
“We don’t know what to do for you, honey. We want to help, but we don’t know what to do.”
My dad cleared his throat and moved to stand next to the edge of the bay window so he was in our line of vision but not too close. There wasn’t room for him on the couch, but he was still there. My throat tightened, and I held back more tears.
“We want to talk to you about what happened,” my dad said, and I stiffened. “If you can’t talk to us, talk to your friends. To Dillon. Anyone.”
“Dillon and I are over,” I said, wondering why that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.
My dad’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and he nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. We only know his name because of your roommate. Nessa mentioned him in passing. I didn’t mean to pry, even though that’s what we do so often. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t understand these people in front of me. They weren’t acting like my parents at all. But then again, I wasn’t acting like myself. And yet I couldn’t find the energy to act like anyone other than who I was in that moment.
Corinne wasn’t here. If she was, everything would make more sense. I would be able to breathe again. Things would go back to normal. I’d be able to stress out over my major and what my parents thought I needed to do with my accomplishments. I’d be able to freak out over a boy and wonder if I loved him or not. But instead, I was sitting with my parents, wearing black and wondering why my best friend had to die.
She was only twenty years old. You weren’t supposed to die when you were twenty. You were supposed to live forever. She hadn’t even had her first legal drink. She’d never had sex. My best friend had died a virgin. She’d never been in love and had died alone. I hadn’t been there.
“Please, talk to us,” my mother whispered. “Please, Elise. We don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t know what to do either. She’s gone, mom. Corinne is gone.
My mother swallowed hard and squeezed my hand again. “We know, honey. I’m so sorry. She was such a sweet girl.”
I gasped. “You hated her.”
My mother sat back, her eyes wide, the look on her face one of shock. “No, we didn’t.”
“You always said that I needed to make new friends. That she wasn’t making the right choices.”
My mother shook her head. “No, the two of you were joined at the hip for so long that you pushed others away when you were younger. And maybe we were meddling, but we loved Corinne. We may not have understood her because she was so vivacious and loud in her choices. But that was because, well…your dad and I are shy.”
I snorted. “What?
Dad sighed. “We’re not shy with you, but with others? It’s taken a while to make the people you see today. We were raised not to speak out, not to do anything but stay in our lane and not make waves. We made waves in our careers, but not in anything else. You were always brighter than the sun when you were with Corinne, and she was your focal point, the star in the sky that shone against everyone. We may not have known Corinne as well as we should have, and that’s on us, but I will forever be glad that she was in your life.”
I swallowed hard, not understanding. “What are you guys talking about?”
My mother sighed. “It took so long to get pregnant with you,” my mother said.