Page 49 of Last Chorus

Been breathing underwater

Waiting on a slaughter

Shaping sand like it was clay

Hoping it would stay

Forgot how to be honest

(even though I promised)

Forgot how to be strong

(somewhere I don’t belong)

But Iremember now

Wilder’s driver, a giant and kind-faced man named Sam, takes me home an hour later. Besides asking me if I’d like air conditioning, he leaves me alone with my thoughts.

The world outside the tinted windows is a blur of faded greens, grays, and browns. I watch it streak past, feeling surprisingly serene. Or I could be numb. Overloaded and shutting down. But regardless, I feel lighter. As though despite not speaking a word of my own experience, hearing Kendra’s history with Clay somehow unburdened me.

“He was twenty-three when he seduced Kendra, who’d just turned sixteen. He played the perfect prince and made her fall in love with him. Then it started. Insults wrapped in justifications about how much he cared, withholding affection like food until she starved. Manipulating her emotions until she felt crazy, then turning her reactions around on her as proof that she was the problem.

“He dumped her the day she turned eighteen, then continued toying with her off and on for the next five years whenever he was single. She was so fucked up over the whole thing, by the time I met her she was hooked on speed and painkillers. When we dated—if you can even call it that—she was just starting to face the abuse.”

As Wilder spoke, each word precise and ringing with truth, it was like a crooked painting was being slowly straightened and brought into focus.

On some level, I must have always known Clay was lying about him being responsible for Kendra’s drug use. About him being the reason she disappeared and shunned her family.

“It’s a game to him, one his father taught him how to play. Kendra even overheard them laughing about it once. Conrad was congratulating Clay for doing to her what he’d done to her mother. Clay joked that it had been too easy. He said he was going to stick to women over twenty-five from then on because a ‘fully developed brain’ would be more of a challenge.

“All he cares about is power and control. In Clay’s mind, you’re the ultimate catch. Someone strong enough to provide a long-term challenge while also giving him access to circles of higher influence.

“These are Kendra’s words, by the way. I’m merely the messenger. She suspected he’d be drawn to you years ago based on your potential alone. It’s why she brought him to your showcase—something she deeply regrets and hopes to apologize for someday.

“He hunted you, Evangeline, probably from that firstnight. Watched and waited for the right time to lead you into his carefully laid trap. And if you need even more confirmation, hear it from his own mouth.”

He played the recording he made of Clay at lunch last month. When it stopped, I calmly asked him to play it again. I didn’t cry or shout or deny. Instead, the oddest thing happened.

My entire body relaxed.

Wilder noticed. With a small, soft smile, he said, “It’s cathartic, isn’t it? When you finally realize you’re not crazy.”

He told me he felt the same way the first time his sponsor, Frank, shared the story of his own youth, struggles with addiction, and eventual recovery. On the outside, his and Wilder’s life experiences were starkly different. But their emotional experiences growing up were eerily similar.

I may never have warm and fuzzy feelings toward Kendra, but Wilder was right. I feel a kinship with her now. Her experience validated mine. Because of her, I know I’m not crazy.

I’m glad she’s safe now. Sober and healing far away from those responsible for her abuse.

I’m even glad she and Wilder reconnected and were able to resolve the toxicity of their shared past tobecome friends—a sentiment I’ll never admit has far more to do with Kendra being happily married to a woman than my emotional maturity.

As we progressup a long driveway bordered by skinny palm trees, the last of my fluttering thoughts fade away.

There’s no confusion left.

Only resolution.

The car stops. I thank Sam and step out. He tips an imaginary hat to me, then does a U-turn and heads back down the drive. I watch him go, allowing myself a moment to think about how his next journey will be taking Wilder to the airport.

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