Page 71 of Beauty and Kaos

“You must be Ivy,” a voice says from behind me. I release the flame on the lighter, and the darkness rushes back in as I glance over my shoulder. Chris wanders up from the kitchen door with a cigarette pinched between his fingers, and I slide the photo back into my pocket. “You’ve caused quite a stir, considering you’ve only been here a week.”

“I can’t learn anything by staying in my lane,” I admit as he slides onto the tabletop beside me. “I heard about Rose. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” he says, nodding solemnly. “Have you ever lost someone and wondered if anyone will ever know you that well again?”

I nod.

His eyes meet mine. “How did you get over it? How do you stop thinking about it every minute of every day?”

I shrug. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

“I just keep wondering what I could have done differently. What one thing I could have changed, even in the smallest increment, that would have been enough to alter the events of that night.” He takes a drag from his cigarette, and I glance away. My thoughts and fears echo in his words. Feelings that he can voice, but I can’t.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “It’s fucked up, but that’s what it comes down to. It doesn’t matter because it’s too late. They’re gone, and we’re still here, trying to figure out what to do with the pieces they left behind. Do we throw it all away? Move on, try to forget? Be someone else?” I pause. That’s the ten thousand dollar question. “Can we still be who we were, and who we are, without them?”

“I don’t know who I am without her.” He says, cursing. “I’m trying not to be so angry about it, but that’s all I feel. I can’t grieve. I can’t be sad or lonely or thankful for our time together. Our families are consoling, crying, being logical about arrangements. But I can’t take any of it. I can’t help with any of it. All I can do is be angry and come to work so I’m not homeless.”

“Then be angry,” I tell him. “This is your loss, nobody gets to tell you how to cope with it.”

“How do you deal?” He asks.

I shrug. “Denial mostly. Anger. A healthy dose of self-loathing and desire for revenge.”

He nods. “I hope you get it. I know if I had any chance at revenge, I would take it.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“So, who was it for you?” He asks, taking a pull from his cigarette. “Who did you lose?”

I swallow hard, and look down at the wooden planks of the deck beneath us. “I’ve lost everyone.”

“At least you have Zaden,” he says, and I slide off the tabletop onto my feet.

“I don’t have anyone.”

I walk back across the deck and nearly collide with Raven as she exits the kitchen door.

“Shit, sorry,” she says, reaching out to grab my arm so I don’t topple over. “Did you order a pizza?”

I shake my head. “I work at a restaurant, why would I order a pizza?”

She nods. “My sentiments exactly. I bet it’s Rhonda. If it’s vegetarian with extra portobellos, it’s hers. She’s tied up with a new eight-top, can you go talk to the guy? I’ve got to run this food before it gets cold.”

“Yeah,” I agree reluctantly. “I’ve got it.” I look at her in the moonlight. Really look at her. The curves of her face, full lips, slender yet toned body. She’s the same height as me. Her green Iteyes meet mine, and it’s like looking in a mirror.

She raises an eyebrow at me. “What?” She asks cautiously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shake my head and glance away. “Nothing,” I say dismissively. “I was just curious about what kind of shampoo you use. This humidity is killing me.”

She laughs, and pulls the kitchen door open. “Beach Scene makes it. They sell it at Mario’s in town. 10/10 Highly recommend.”

I nod. “Thanks, I’ll check it out.” She disappears back into the kitchen, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Fuck. I really don’t know how to act around her now. Do I tell her? Do I talk toAlice first? She’s kept it a secret for twenty-five years, do I just let it go? Is she better off not knowing? I don’t even know if I want to know.

I walk down the back steps to the employee lot and over to a waiting pizza delivery car. A man picks up a blue pizza bag from the hood of his car and opens the flap, pulling out two large boxes.

“Vegetarian, extra mushrooms?’” I ask, and he nods.

“One of them is. The other is a Meat Lovers. Interesting pairing, really,” he says with a smile. “They’re already paid for, you just need to sign the slip.” He hands me a clipboard and a pen.

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