“You know, I think I managed to protect her tonight.”
I realize now that she’s pulled to the side of the road. Herpalm is against my back, right where my shoulders meet, making slow, gentle circles.
“What happened tonight, Jessa?”
“She… she tried it again. She tried, and I grabbed the knife. I wasn’t thinking, I just… I couldn’t see all her blood again.”
“So you gave your own?”
She gets quiet and so do I. Thoughts swirl in my head so fast I can’t keep track of them, and everything feels as though it’s some dream or hallucination and soon I’ll snap out of it and this insane night will have never happened.
“I think I’m a coward, Bird.” I look down at my hand, the bandage starting to pink up. I’m gonna need more gauze. Maybe stitches.
“I think you’re a badass. You certainly had to be brave to grab that knife.”
I shake my head, blue hair swinging like a curtain. “More like stupid.”
“Jessa, you saved her life. You protected her when it really mattered.”
I did, but inside I feel like I just hit the pause button. Sooner or later, someone will hit play, maybe even Mack herself, and the tape will run out to the end. “I’m fucking terrified.”
“Of your sister hurting herself?”
“No, of me.” I’m picking at my nail polish again, and little flecks fly off. They’ll stick to the vinyl car interior, like glitter but black and dull.
“Why?”
“What’s in her, it just kind of took over one day. She used tobe herself, and now she’s sometimes still in there, but most of the time it’s the crazy highs that lead to fights, or depression—which is even worse. Which leads to things like tonight.”
“But youaren’tlike that.”
“But I could be. We have the same genes, the same source. There’s no test, but one day I could just go crazy, it could be a train barreling toward me and I am the inevitable tracks.”
“But you still aren’ther.” Bird’s words are firm, and I can feel her belief in me, something so precious to me. Someone who believes I can be good and better.
“Bird, my kind of luck isn’t the kind where I don’t get it. My kind of luck is I do get it and I’m just as bad or worse.”
“But you are different. You aren’t her. Look, since I’ve met you, you’re more… aware, responsible. You take bad things and approach them looking for a solution. If you got sick, Jessa, I know you would work until you could get well.”
“Stabilized.”
“Stabilized.”
“Meaning I could capsize at any point. I will never be better if I get sick. I’ll just be stable. Who would want that? Who would want me?”
“I would,” she says, and puts her hand over my thigh. “I would be happy to live that life with you. And if the boat tips… well, I’ll be there with life preservers and the coast guard and flares and everything we need to get you back to shore.”
I put my good hand over Bird’s, soft skin against my fingertips. She flips it and we interlace fingers, hers squeezing mine in encouragement. For all that has happened, for all the crazy crapI’ve pulled even without being bipolar yet, she still believes in me, she still wants me. Maybe still loves me. I clear the tears in my throat.
“Bird, I think that’s the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
She pulls my hand up to hers, kisses the back of it, and says, “People need to say nicer things to you. I plan on making that happen a lot more.”
She sets my hand back down to check the directions she scribbled on a piece of notebook paper. I hear the opening chords of “Fade into You” play, and she looks up and smiles at me, and I smile back, knowing exactly what we’re both remembering right now. Alone in our ghost town, just the two of us, sharing our bodies and souls.
“My favorite song,” she says. “Turn it up.”
BIRD