It’s not tomorrow yet, but I certainly feel it now.
I cross the room as something jackhammers the back of my head, and I dig through the cabinet over the stove to find more aspirin. I find them, take several, and wobble back to the living room.
I’m standing above Dare watching him again when he opens his eyes.
His beautiful onyx eyes.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I murmur.
He doesn’t say anything, he simply opens his arms.
I lay down in front of him and he closes his arms around me, shielding me from the night. This is how I fall asleep, cradled against his chest and listening to his heartbeat.
In the morning, the sunlight wakes me up while Dare still sleeps.
It takes me a second to remember where I am, how I’d gotten drunk last night, how I’d thrown myself at Dare and then thrown up in front of him.
I’m dying of humiliation as I glance up at the windows, at the door, and then I freeze.
Finn is staring inside, a look of horror on his tired face. He’s still dressed in the clothes he was wearing from yesterday, which make me believe he’s only just now getting in.
I’m sprawled in Dare’s arms, wrapped in a sheet, and I realize how it must look.
Finn has the entirely wrong idea.
I scramble up to tell him, I throw open the door, but he’s already gone.
30
TRIGENTA
I chase Finn up to my room where he’s waiting for me, sitting calmly on my bed, his shoes muddy from the beach.
“It’s not what it looked like,” I tell him quickly, although I still have Dare’s sheet wrapped around my waist because my shorts are in his bedroom.
Finn shakes his head and looks out the window. “I don’t care what you were doing with him, Cal. It’s not my business. I’m your brother, not your keeper.”
“But I’m your keeper,” I snap back. “And you went out alone yesterday. What the hell were you dong?”
“I needed some alone time,” he says quietly, still looking out the window. “After the cemetery, I mean.”
That causes me to pause, which was his intention. “I’m sorry,” I say simply, my hands still clutching the sheet. “I should’ve been there with you. I let you go alone. I’m so sorry, Finn.”
He shrugs with his skinny shoulders, his arms pale in the morning light. “It’s fine, Calla. You aren’t ready yet. I get it.”
“But I should still have gone for you,” I argue. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go back today? Because I will. If you need to go again, I will.”
Finn looks at me sadly. “You need to go for you, Cal. But you’re not ready. It’ll happen in layers… in order. I promise.”
He’s talking nonsense, which worries me. “You’re taking your meds, right?” I ask him worriedly. He nods.
“Please stop worrying about me, Cal. I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” I can’t help but take in his wrinkled clothes, pale skin, dark circles around his eyes. “You’re not sleeping again. Your hands are shaking. We’ve got to get you some help. I’m going to talk to dad.”
Finn’s arm snakes out faster than I can blink and grabs mine. “Don’t,” he says quickly. “Please. We’ll handle this on our own, Calla. You and me, just like always.”
And I want to tell him that it’s not fair to me, that this weight is too heavy, that it’s too much responsibility, but of course I don’t. Because we’re Calla-and-Finn and that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it will always be.
I finally just nod. “Ok. I won’t tell him.”
I glance at him again and remember that he’s not wearing his St. Michael’s medallion.
“You took your necklace off,” I tell him, trying not to sound accusatory. He looks away and shrugs.
“I decided I don’t need it anymore. You can have it, if you want.”
I stare at him, my mouth open. “You haven’t taken that thing off since you got it, because mom liked the idea that you’re protected when you wear it.”
His icy blue gaze impales me. “Mom’s not here anymore, Calla.”
I swallow and it hurts. “I know that,” I answer, the words raspy. He nods.
“Good. So you can have it if you want it.” He gets to his feet wearily and my heart explodes into a puff of dust.
“I’ve gotta shower,” he says quietly and leaves without another word.
I’m quiet as I stare out the window, staring at the ocean. Boats glide on the horizon and I can’t help but wish I was on one, floating far, far away from here.
But if that were the case, I’d be sailing away from Dare. And I can’t do that. Not now.
I shower and brush my teeth, then lock my bedroom door before pulling out Finn’s journal. Curled up in my window, I force myself to read the words because I’ve been putting it off and now is the time. Flipping the mysterious tarot card absently over and over in my fingers, I stare at another of Finn’s strange symbols and read his words.
Death is the beginning.
Mors solum initium est.
The beginning beginning beginning beginning
I need to start
I startle as I read the scratched words, the ink ground into the paper like Finn had used all of his strength. He needs to start what?
A new beginning?
Or death?
My heart pounds hard against my ribcage as I mark my page with the tarot card, then cram the journal back between the mattresses before I clatter down the steps.
“Have you seen Finn?” I ask my father when I meet him on the stairs.
“No,” he answers. “Are you ok?”
“Yes,” I sigh because I’m so sick of him asking. “I just need to find Finn.”
I find him where I always find him lately, down by the woodshed, chopping wood. More wood, although we have fifteen piles already.
“Why do you keep doing this?” I ask him hesitantly. I approach him slowly so I don’t startle him because he’s holding an ax, after all.
He looks up at me, the light shining in his pale blue eyes.
“The exercise burns stress.”
“Ok,” I answer. “Finn, you’d tell me if you were feeling really bad, right? Like, you wouldn’t do anything stupid?”
His forehead wrinkles and he leans against the ax handle. “Stupid like what, Cal? What are you talking about?”
I sigh because he knows what I’m saying, he’s just trying to make me say the words.
“You wouldn’t try to hurt yourself, would you?”
The words taste hateful and awful, but I ask them anyway.
Finn stares at me seriously.
“Calla, if I wanted to hurt myself, I wouldn’t try. I’d just do.” But when I start to cry out, he hurriedly continues. “But no. I don’t want to hurt myself.”
I stare at him, desperately wanting to believe him, but so sure he’s lying.
“I think you should go to Group today,” I tell him slowly, gauging his reaction.
He shrugs. “Ok. I was planning on it anyway.”
“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he answers firmly. “Let me finish here and then take a shower.”
He splits another piece of wood and tosses it into a new pile. I shake my head as I walk to the house. Dad will have enough wood to last five winters.
I hesitate at the porch, playing with the idea of going to talk to Dare, but as I stand there trying to decide, I see him pacing back and forth behind the cottage, talking animatedly on his cell phone. He paces up, waves his hands, his face set in stone, then he paces back, doing the same thing.
He glances up and sees me, and his dark eyes hold mine for just a moment, black, black, black as night, then he turns his back and paces away.
Who is he talking to so intently?
Questions swirl around me as return to my room to fold up Dare’s sheet so that I can take it back to him later. Who is he talking to? For that matter, as long as I’m ask
ing questions, who is Dare here to visit? He’d said he was visiting someone in the hospital. He never said who, and he never said why he wanted to rent an apartment here when he lives in England. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff and in my own fascination with Dare himself, that I’ve never asked.
That’s going to end today.
I wait patiently for thirty minutes because that’s got to be enough time to wrap up a conversation.
I take the sheet and knock on Dare’s door.
He opens it immediately and looks devastatingly handsome in a snug dark shirt that complements his dark eyes.
“Hey,” he greets me. “You look like you feel better.”
“Thank you for taking care of me last night,” I tell him, flushing a bit. It’s embarrassing that he saw me puke my guts up. “I’m a bit humiliated.”
“Don’t be,” he says politely, oddly formal considering I slept all night in his arms. He doesn’t make any kind of move to invite me in, but instead stands planted in the middle of the doorway.
“Well, I am,” I answer back in confusion. “Is something wrong? I can’t help but notice that we’re still standing on the porch.”
He shakes his head. “Of course not. I’m just a bit busy at the moment.”
He’s so cool and detached, sort of aloof. I stare at him, not sure what to say.
“Did you need something?” he prompts me, his eyes glinting in the light.
“I…yeah,” I stammer. I thrust the sheet at him. “I just came to give this back to you. And to get my shorts.”
“Sure. Hang on.”
And I swear to God, he closes the door in my face. I’m still stunned when he re-emerges a few minutes later with my shorts.
“Here you go,” he hands them to me.
I stare at him, never more confused in my life.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
His face seems to soften for a minute, then it smooths back into an unreadable mask. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just busy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok,” I say slowly. “I’ll just catch up with you later.” I turn to leave, but pause, turning half-way on the sidewalk.
“Hey, you never said who you were here in Astoria to visit,” I tell him slowly, watching his face for a reaction. “You said you were visiting someone in the hospital, but you never said who.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. He simply nods. “I didn’t, did I?”
And he doesn’t offer it now.
I wait, but there’s nothing. He just steps back inside his house.
“I’ll talk to you later, Calla.”
And then he closes the door.
I’m absolutely stunned as I stare at the wood, frozen on the path.
Everyone has secrets, Calla. That’s what he told me and I guess it’s truer than I realized. The question is, are his secrets important? Should I care about them? Because I’ve got so much to worry about already.
But his contradictions confuse me. His want and his detachment confuse me. His hot blood and cold attitude confuse me. Over the past week, he’s anchored me amid all of this crazy. Is it possible that he just doesn’t want to be that anchor anymore?
My chest feels numb with the thought, because somehow, I’ve come to depend on him already. I depend on him to make me smile, to lift me out of this mire into a world where hope survives.
But he just closed a door in my face and I can’t help but wonder if it was a metaphor for something bigger.
I try and put it out of my mind as I wait for Finn, then drive him into Group. All I can do right now is keep going through the motions, keep my head above water.
Dare doesn’t define me.
That’s going to have to become my new mantra.
I fall sleep with that thought in my head, with the very best of intensions. But I’m awakened at three a.m.
Piano music plays softly, filtering through the house.
Startled, I sit up in bed and look at the clock again.
Yes, it’s the middle of the night.
No, the piano shouldn’t be playing.
I pad down the stairs toward the chapel and with each step, the soft music gets a little louder. When I hit the bottom step, the music stops. Silence seems to echo loudly in my ears as I rush down the hall and round the corner into the room.
The piano seat is empty.
Stunned, I walk numbly to the front, trailing my finger along the empty piano bench.
I know it was playing. I know it’s what woke me. The lid to the keys is open, which is unusual. It’s usually closed when it’s not in use.
And then I smell it.
The barest hint of Dare’s cologne.
My heart in my throat, I look out the window, to see a lamp turned on in his cottage.
He’s still up. He’d been here.
Somehow I know, without anyone having to tell me, that he still wants me as much as I want him, regardless of how cool he’d acted earlier. I don’t know his reasons, and I don’t know his secrets.
But I know one thing as I collapse onto the seat of the piano.
Even though he tried, he couldn’t stay away.
31
TRIGENTA UNUS
Calla
In the morning, I want to go see Dare. But at the same time, I don’t want to be desperate. I don’t want to play games.
The memory of his piano music drifting through my house last night buoys me, though, keeps me from panicking.
He’s trying to do an honorable thing. I feel it in my bones. And just as much, I feel the connection to him, loud and strong, tugging and tugging me toward him. I know he feels it too. And because of that, I can’t let myself worry.
It’ll work out. It has to.
So with a last glance over my shoulder, I walk away from his door, certain that I’ll see him sooner rather than later.
With the sun shining on my shoulders, I decide to take a walk.
I wind through the trails, working my way up toward the cliffs rather than down toward the sea.
When I get to the top, I’m surprised to find Finn sitting too close to the edge.
Startled, I stop, my pink chucks freezing in place.
Finn’s black ones dangle over the side and he kicks his feet casually, not looking one bit concerned that the edge could break away at any moment.
“Finn,” I say slowly, trying not to startle him, “Move away from the edge.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, unconcerned. “Hey, Cal. Did you know that nutmeg is incredibly deadly if it’s injected?”
This freezes me, too.
“You don’t know that firsthand, right?” I stare at him, examining his arms for injection marks.
He rolls his eyes. “You know I hate nutmeg.”
I can’t breathe. “I also know you’re sitting too close to the edge. Move back. Carefully.”
He doesn’t move, and I see tiny balls of clay rolling around him, dropping off the edge. My heart pounds in my ears.
“Want to go to the lighthouse today?” he asks, like he didn’t even hear me. He stares out over the water toward the beacon, watching the gulls fly around it.
“Yeah,” I tell him quickly. “Let’s go right now.”
With another shrug, Finn clumsily gets to his feet, one of his shoes breaking off a piece of the edge. It plunges over the side, but Finn doesn’t even notice. He just walks to me like sitting on a cliff is the most natural thing in the world, like he is completely oblivious to the danger.
I throw my arms around him and hug him tight.
“What is wrong with you?” I whisper into his neck, inhaling his sweaty skin. “Why would you do that?”
“Do what?” he asks innocently. “I just wanted a good view.”
“You know it’s dangerous.” I pull away and stare into his eyes. “You know that.”
“And you know that I was far enough back to be safe.”
He tells me the same thing I told him the other day, only it’s not true in his case. br />
“You were on the edge,” I tell him shakily. To that, he shrugs.
“I still am.”
He walks away down the trail, whistling a tune that sends goose-bumps down my spine. The song that Dare played on the piano last night.
He heard it. He knew Dare was in the house and it upset him. That’s what this has to be about.
I skid down the trail to catch up.
“Are you upset because I’m close with Dare now? Because you have to know that you’re the most important thing to me, Finn. You’ll always be the most important thing. No matter what.”
He pauses and looks back at me.
“Calla, you’re overthinking this. Nothing is wrong with me. I’m not mad at you.”
And then he continues on his way.
I trip along side of him, trying to stay calm, and I do a very good job of it, too, until we walk halfway up the beach, and I see something silver glinting in the sand. Jogging ahead, I bend down and pick up Finn’s St. Michael’s medallion.
Speechless, I let it dangle in my fingers while Finn catches up.
“Why did you throw this out?” I demand. “I get that you don’t want to wear it right now, but this was a gift from mom. She gave it to you, Finn. You can’t just throw it out.”
He shrugs and I’m getting tired of all his shrugs.
“If you want it, you can have it,” he tells me nonchalantly and I want to scream.
“I don’t want it. I want you to want it. It’s yours. Our dead mother gave it to you. You should want it.”
I’m practically yelling now, and Finn doesn’t flinch, and doesn’t react at all. He just stares at me, with his pale blue eyes the same color as the sky.
“But I don’t,” he says lightly. I stay frozen in place, the necklace clutched in my hand while Finn walks out onto a rock walkway and sits staring out at the water. He’s quiet, he’s pensive, and something is most certainly wrong.
I feel it in my bones, in my heart, in the hidden and dark place where a twin knows.