Page 61 of The Last to Let Go
“He wasn’t...” I stop because I’m treading dangerously close to the truth, to letting her see all my hiding places. “He wasn’t the greatest person most of the time. I was pretty much scared of him my whole life—everyone was. Sometimes I thought it would better if he just died. But it’s not.”
“I don’t know how to ask this, but was your father abusive or something?”
I’ve never really assigned a word to what he was. There were never any words that quite fit. No words that could ever explainenough. “I—I guess,” I whisper. “I mean, it’s not that simple.”
“I know,” she says, but she doesn’t.
“You think I’m a horrible person?”
“Never.”
It feels like I’ve only blinked when Dani’s shaking my shoulders, whispering my name. “Brooke, wake up. Wake up, your phone.”
I open my eyes. Dani’s shoving my phone into my hand. I look at her alarm clock. It’s 3:17 in the morning. I look at the screen on my phone: Jackie. My brain puts the pieces together too slowly. But once it does, I bolt upright. “Hello? Jackie? What’s wrong?”
“Brooke, hi. I’m here with Callie.”
“Why? Is she okay?” I ask, struggling to get out from under the sheets.
“Yes, yes. Everyone’s okay. We’re at the apartment. Callie said she’s been trying to reach you—she’s fine, just a little upset, is all.” She pauses. “Brooke, Aaron’s not here. Have you spoken to him? Is it unusual that he wouldn’t come home?”
Her words echo in my head and something twists inside of me like a snake coiling up through my abdomen, constricting around my lungs, making it hard to breathe, then around my throat, strangling my voice.
“What is it?” Dani whispers.
“No, I—I told him—I mean, I texted him—that I was staying over at Dani’s house. No, he—he should be there,” I stutter through the words; I feel the world tilting. “Something’s wrong. He should be there. I’m coming home.”
“No, Brooke, calm down. That’s not necessary, I promise. Have your sleepover. Everything’s... under control,” she says, but she’s distracted by something that’s happening over there, across town, where I’m not—where Ishouldbe. “I’m sorry I called. I didn’t need to bother you with this. I thought maybe you knew something. Look, I’ll leave a note for Aaron. And Callie’s going to stay at my place tonight. Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeat. “Thanks, Jackie, I’m sorry.”
Dani turns her bedroom light on and stands in front of me, wearing only her underwear and a thin spaghetti-strap cami. She wraps her arms around herself like she’s scared and cold—like she needs a hug.
“It’s not your fault,” Jackie tells me. “It’s no one’s fault.”
Yes it is, I say to myself.
“We’ll talk in the morning. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry, please. Bye, Brooke.”
My hands are shaking. I open my mouth, but she hangs up before I can tell her that she needs to check up on the rooftop.
“What’s going on?” Dani asks as I hang up and scroll through my missed messages.
Callie, 11:55:Did you tell Aaron you weren’t coming home? Just woke up and he’s not here.
Callie, 12:34:I’m fine by myself, but thought you should know
Callie, 1:45:Hello?? Now I’m worried abt both of you...
Callie, 2:12:You guys suck. I’m calling Jackie.
Nothing from Aaron.
Dani’s following me as I pace her room. She’s saying my name, but I can’t even answer because I’m trying to get dressed while calling Aaron at the same time. I’m muttering to myself—I might even be muttering to myself that I’m muttering to myself. I’m pressing all the wrong buttons. I feel like I’m losing it. I manage to pull on my pants one-handed. I need to find him. His phone goes straight to voice mail.
“God damn it, Aaron! Where the hell are you? Call me back the second you get this—thesecondyou get this! I need to know you’re okay. All right? Call me back, just call me back.” I hang up. I throw the phone into my open bag on the floor—it bounces out and makes a noise too loud for three o’clock in the morning at a nice family’s house. “God, fuck!” I whisper-shout as I bend down to pick the phone back up, checking to make sure it’s still on. I stuff it into my pants pocket instead.
Dani reaches out to grab my hands, but I twist away from her, pulling my shirt over my head, not caring that it’s on inside out. “Sorry, I—I just need to get home.”
