Page 66 of This I Know
“What do you mean you couldn’t? What happened?”
“You know … just memories.” I look down at my hands, which are still tucked away. “Stuff like that.”
Mara pushes herself off her knees and leans on her arm. “I get it,” she says.
And without warning, I start to cry. I’m forced to pull my hands out of their safety net and bring them to my face. I cry everything out, right in front of her; all the fear, all the memories, all the emotion that talking to Cole brought up last night. It hurts. It hurts so bad that I’m thankful when Mara gets up and comes over to me to shrug her arm over me.
“It’s okay,” she says.
I know it’s okay. I know I’m not in danger of being physically hurt anymore. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel the pain. I stop crying long enough to try to explain myself. “It’s just– he made me get out of the truck–”
“I know, Avie.” She rubs my shoulder.
I lift my head, blinking away the remaining tears. I place my hand on hers. Maybe my mom is right, and everything does happen for a reason. Maybe the reason she ended up here this morning is to comfort me in the middle of this.
“Hey,” she says. “It’s good. This is good. You have to cry, you know.”
“I know.” I sniffle and finish drying my eyes. “I just wish I didn’t.”
“I wish you didn’t, either. It’s not fair.” She removes her arm. She drops her face in dismay, and then her eyes travel to my nightstand. “What’s this?” she says quietly, reaching over me. She pulls back with the flower in her hand.
I’m tempted to yank it from her, but the only thing stopping me is the fear that I’d break it. So I let her hold it. She already knows what it is. She probably just forgot.
And I’m willing to tell her all about it again. Because why not? This is Mara we’re talking about here. My best friend. She already knows pretty much everything about me. And if anyone’s going to think I’m crazy, I’d rather it be her.
“Here,” I say, holding out my hand, proud of having resisted the urge to take it from her by force. She sets the flower into it.
“Wait,” she says. “That’s not that flower, is it? The one you told me about? You actually still have that thing?”
“I swear someone left it for me. I just don’t know who.”
“You still have it. That’s so sweet.”
“I guess it is.”
“And who knows? Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find out one day.”
I stretch over, putting the flower back. “That’s what I’m hoping.” I don’t tell her that I hope itwasreally an angel, and that I hope such things are even real. And that if either of those hopes are true, there would be no way of finding out.
“Anyway,” she says. “Onto bigger and better things. Ethan. So when’s your first date?”
I bet Mara’s happy she distracted me from all the chaos of my mind. She’s done a good job. But I’m not embarrassed; I’m never embarrassed to cry in front of people, which is something surprising I’ve discovered about myself since the attack.
“No idea,” I reply. “We haven’t made one yet. I’m sure I’ll talk to him soon, though.”
Mara rises. “Well, I’ll leave you to that, then.” She checks the time on her phone. “I have to get going, anyway. Oh, which reminds me. My parents are making a dinner tonight. I know – family meals are totally like our thing, and it’s kind of dull after a while. But I really want you to come.”
“You want me to come to your family dinner?”
“Please? I won’t be able to stand it without you.”
I pretend to sigh. Really, I’m grateful for the opportunity to get out of the house after that little emotional outpouring. “Alright. I should be able to.” I’m still afraid of giving a definitive answer in case something should come up. And lately, a lot has been coming up.
“Yes! I’ll let you know the time.” Then she turns around and adds, “Bring Ethan.”
I laugh. “That’s a good idea. A first date with my best friend’s parents.”
“Can you blame me for trying?”
