Page 69 of The Last to Let Go
When I get home, I see Dani’s car parked outside. As I cross the street, she unrolls her window and sticks her head out. “Get in, okay?”
I do. It’s warm in here, the heat on full blast, the radio playing softly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she repeats. “Sorry I didn’t answer when you called.”
“That’s okay.”
“I was so mad at you I didn’t know what to say.” She reaches over and takes my hand. She pulls my glove off and wraps her warm fingers around mine. “But I’m not now. I want to understand.”
“I know you talked to Jackie. I assume she told you everything.” I pause, giving her a chance to respond, but she only nods. “I planned on telling you what was going on, but there was never a good time.”
“Yeah, but how could you not tell me something so huge? You let me believe Jackie was your mother. You let me believe your father was killed while he was working, like it was some kind of accident.”
“It was an accident.” I let go of her hand now. “What, like I know every last thing about you?”
“No, but that’s only because you haven’t found certain things out yet, not because I’m keeping important things from you.”
I look away, shaking my head. Dani will never understand. “Look, I am sorry I was so upset the other night. I snapped at you and I shouldn’t have. I know you were trying to help. But there’s all this stuff between me and Aaron that I couldn’t explain right then.”
“Well, if you had told me before, you wouldn’t have had to explain it right then when you were upset. I would’ve already understood what was going on and I could’ve helped, instead of you flipping out on me.”
“Yeah,” I tell her, “I know.”
“Can you explain it to me now?”
I shake my head. “This isn’t fair,” I mumble. “None of this is fair.”
“No, it’s not fair—here I am thinking we’re getting close. Thinking I know you and you know me, and what we have is real,” she says, her words speeding as she continues. “I told you I love you.”
“I have very little control over anything in my life right now, and you don’t get to dictate what I tell you about myself and when I tell you.”
“You think withholding real stuff about yourself gives you some kind of power? That’s extremely messed up.”
“No. You’re twisting what I’m saying, Dani! It’s not about us or you—it’s aboutme, my life. God, can’t anything just be about me?” I yell.
“Sorry, but no, our relationship—if that’s what we’re even calling this—can’t just be about you.” She crosses her arms and stares out the window. “You deserve better. That’s all I came here to say, Brooke. I don’t want to fight. I just wanted to tell you that you deserve better than all this stuff you’ve had to deal with.”
“Do I?” She reaches for me, but I pull my arm out of her grasp. “Thanks a lot.”
“Why is that a bad thing to say?”
“Because, don’t you see? I’m one of them!” I tell her, raising my voice. “So what you’re really saying is thatyoudeserve better.”
“I am not,” she argues.
“We’re not even having the same conversation right now, do you know that?”
“Well, what is the conversation you’re having?”
“What I’m trying to say is that it’s like you have all this information now. But you don’t even know what any of it means—you say you understand, but you don’t. Because you went behind my back and talked to Jackie instead of me—”
“I tried to talk to you!” she interrupts, but I keep going.
“And you say you want to be close, and you want toknowme, but...” I stop to catch my breath. “Honestly, I feel like you’ve never known me less than you do right now. So, congratulations.”
“You’re right,” she says, smiling sadly. “I don’t know this person. Not at all.”
“Then we’re in agreement.” I crack the door open. The cold rushes in, not just into the car but into me; it gets into my blood and organs, freezing over my insides just like the river. “Good-bye, I guess.”
