Page 77 of When We Are Complete

“Let’s talk about something else.” I reach for a cherry tomato, rolling it between my fingers before setting it on my plate. Thefamiliar routine clicks into place: cut everything smaller, make each bite tiny, move food around the plate. I cut a very small slice of cheese, nibbling a corner. Squash the rest of the cracker under some noodles.

Nora chats about a documentary she watched, something about the resilience of coral reefs, but her words sound distant. The storm isn’t just raging outside; it’s here, within me. My chest is so pressurized, and my ribs could crack right open. The festival looms over me, a mountain I’m determined to climb. But the darkness whispers doubts, and the cold seeps deeper.

We clean up our meal, me using the dark to my advantage as I scrape most of it into the bin. Once we’re done, Nora yawns and stretches. “Alright, I’m calling it a night. This blackout gives me the perfect excuse to get cozy with a book. You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll head to bed soon too.”

She casts a quick glance around the darkened room, grabs her phone and one of the candles, and heads to her room. I watch her disappear down the hallway, before picking up one of the candles and heading to my own room, setting the candle down on my bedside table. The soft flickering light fills the space, but the room feels vast and empty.

I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at my phone. Reaching out to Jake is the last thing I want to do—but also the only thing. My thumb hovers over his name in my contacts, and before I can second-guess myself, I presscall.

The dial tone stretches out, a low hum filling the silence, until I hear his voice. “Hey. Everything okay? I’ve been hoping you’d call me back.”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just hunkering down. How are you and Adele? Are you guys holding up okay? Are your parents fine?”

“We’re alright. Adele’s convinced this storm is going to blow our roof off, but she’s fast asleep now. Gave her a flashlight and apile of blankets. You know, storm essentials. And Lucy is staying with Mom and Dad. I checked in on them a while ago.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it covered, then.”

He lets out a sigh, a bit of frustration slipping into his tone. “Well, mostly. Adele had a rough day, actually. I found something on her phone that explains why she’s been so reluctant to go to school. Some boys started this list, categorizing the girls in her class ashot or not. She was on thenotlist. She was so embarrassed and hurt. There were a lot of inappropriate comments, too.”

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious? That’s terrible. What did you do?”

“I called the principal, sent her screenshots of the list. Told her she’d better handle it. It’s disgusting, and I wasn’t about to let that slide.” His voice is steady but laced with tension. “But it’s handled. Hopefully, the school follows through.”

“Jake, that’s— horrible. I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “How did she react when you sent the screenshots to the principal?”

His tone turns a bit dismissive. “I didn’t exactly ask her. She’s too young to decide this on her own. Someone has to stand up for her.”

“Right,” I say. I get his protectiveness, but he should have cooled down, maybe talked to Adele first about how she wanted to handle it. She’s already self-conscious and hurting, and this could make her even more exposed.

But I keep the thoughts to myself. “You’re a good dad, Jake.” And it’s true. He always has her best interests at heart.

He softens, his voice gentler. “Thanks. I just want her to know she’s worth more than some stupid list.”

“I’m sure she does,” I say, though my worry lingers.

There’s a brief pause, and I can almost picture him adjusting his grip on the phone. “How are things on your end?”

“I mean, the storm’s making me nervous.” What can I say? That I’m obsessively thinking about the installations and whether they’ll hold up?

His voice turns practical. “I said this before, but try not to worry. If any of the booths or stages are damaged, we can deal with it. The community always rallies around events like this, and I’m sure the Valiant Hearts will help out, too. And if the festival is a little pared back, that’s fine, too.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to match his steady tone. “That makes sense.” He’s being supportive, offering solutions, but the emptiness in my chest remains. I’m not sure I even know what I want him to say, but I need something more.

“We’ll figure it out, Kelly. We can go over everything once the storm passes and we can assess the damage, come up with a plan. The festival will go ahead one way or another.”

Part of me wants to tell him how I’m worried my anxiety is going to get the better of me, drown me until I can’t breath. But he doesn’t want to know that. Hear those ugly words come out of my mouth.

So I put on my game face, keeping my voice light. “I know. I guess I’m just letting it all get to me. Thanks for talking it through, though.”

Can he hear it, the tremor hiding beneath my words?

“Anytime,” he replies. “We’ve got this. You’re not alone.”

The line goes quiet for a second, echoing in the empty space in my chest.

“Well, I should let you get some rest,” I say.

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