Being Me

Thirty-one

An hour after Chris left for the hospital, I’m done with the police questioning and I step outside Mark’s house. A flicker of movement draws me to the shadowy area of the yard, to the tree Ava had crashed into, and I find Mark resting against it. His head is bowed low, his arms resting on his knees, and it’s clear this isn’t the composed, controlled Mark I’ve come to expect.

After a moment of hesitation, I join him and settle onto the ground beside him. His head lifts and I’m shocked at what he allows me to see. Pain. Torment. Blame.

“She came back because I asked her to,” he tells me.

“What?” I ask, but then it hits me what he means. I remember Blake saying Rebecca came home and just disappeared.

“I called Rebecca while she was on her vacation with the guy she took off with, and told her to come back. That things would be different. She told me no.” He shoves a rough hand into his hair and curses. “I thought she shut me out. I never even knew she came back into town. I brought her back here, and Ava did God knows what to her. I’m the reason she’s dead.”

“Don’t do this to yourself.” I go to my knees to face him. “You didn’t do this. You aren’t responsible for what Ava did.”

He fixes me with a haunted stare. “I am. You don’t know just how fucking responsible I am. I threw Rebecca and Ava together at the club. I included Ava in play. I—” His voice breaks off and he looks away sharply. “Rebecca was . . .” Seconds tick by and abruptly he is staring at me again. “I caused this, and I almost did the same thing to you. I would have, if not for Chris. You and I both know it’s true. Go home, Sara. Get as far away from me as you can.”

The order is rough and razor sharp, but I don’t move. I want to help him. “Mark—”

“Go home.”

I know then that he has to deal with his demons in his own way, like I’ve had to deal with mine. I push to my feet and stare down at him, but he isn’t looking at me and I know he won’t again. I walk to my car. Once I’m inside, I start the engine, but I’m not sure what to do with myself. Chris had said he’d vowed we’d be over if I came here tonight. Did he mean it? I’ve heard nothing from him, but I love him too much to have much pride right now.

With nerves fluttering in my stomach, I try to call him. The rings radiate through me, one after another, until I hear his voice mail and hang up. I feel that same pinch in my chest that I did last week when he’d shut me out. He’s angry and hurt and I’m not anymore. I’m uncertain and confused.

I’m not sure how tonight landed where it did, and as I start driving, I find myself searching for answers where it all seemed to start. I end up at my old apartment and go to Ella’s unit, the place where I first discovered Rebecca. I walk to the bedroom, drop my purse on the bed, and lie on the mattress to stare at the ceiling. Thanks to Ella and Rebecca, I dared to be me, not the shell of a person I had settled for. And because of them, I found Chris.

I roll to my side, exhausted beyond belief. I want to go home, I want to see Chris. I want to talk to him about all I am feeling, but we are broken. So very broken. I don’t know how to fix us. I don’t know if he wants to fix us. Maybe I shouldn’t want to fix us. But I do. And I don’t care if that makes me foolish. I dig my phone from my purse, shut my eyes, and will it to ring.

“Sara.” I blink awake to the sound of Chris’s voice and find him standing above me.

I sit up in a haze, afraid I’m still dreaming. “Chris?” I scoot to the end of the bed, relieved he is indeed here, hope filling me that we still have a chance.

He squats down in front of me, but he doesn’t touch me. “I thought you’d be here, when I didn’t find you at home.”

“I couldn’t go home when you weren’t there. I tried to call you.”

“They made me turn my phone off at the hospital, and you haven’t been answering yours since I turned it back on.” He cuts his gaze away and I sense the struggle in him, and dread fills me before he turns back to me. “Look. Sara.” Again he hesitates, and I hang on the moment until he continues. “I’m leaving for Paris at ten in the morning.”

My shoulders slump, pain spiraling through me. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I’m leaving.”

“No. Don’t.”

He studies me a long moment, searching for something I hope he finds. “Come with me. We’ll find Ella and we’ll try to find us again. I’ve thought about this for hours. I’ve held things back, and maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t. If you want to know exactly who and what I am, Paris is where you will find out. I’ve always known that but I wasn’t ready for what that means until now. And I’m not sure you ever will be. You need to think long and hard on that before morning.”

“My passport—”

He reaches into his pocket, then pulls out my passport and tosses it on the bed. “It came while I was out of town.” He pushes to his feet and he still hasn’t touched me. Why won’t he touch me?

This is too sudden. My head is spinning. “Chris, please. Let’s talk about this.”

“No. No talking. No in between. All or nothing, Sara. I’m offering that to you, and you have to decide if you really want it. There’s a reservation in your name with American Airlines. I’ll be on the plane. I hope you will be, too.” He walks away and the door opens and shuts behind him.

He’s gone, leaving me with confirmation of what I’ve already sensed in him. There is more to his pain than I know, more secrets to be revealed. He’s left me with another one of his tests, and I have only a few hours to answer. Not knowing what secrets he holds, am I willing to take this risk with him?