Once the door is all the way open, my vision blurs. My heart gets a massive jolt, like a horse kick in the chest. Hallie is lying in her twin bed, a clear plastic bag over her head. I rush in and quickly undo the Velcro around her neck. I yank off the bag, but she doesn’t open her eyes.
“Hallie, this isn’t funny. Wake up!” I shake her shoulders. I yell her name. But she doesn’t respond. “What the fuck?”
I glance at the bag on the floor and notice a couple of plastic tubes that must have fallen out when I tore the bag off. The tubes lead to a helium tank. What the fuck was she doing?
“Wake up, Hal!” I shout, crouched at her bedside as I press two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. “Come on. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening. No, no, no. What were you thinking?”
I can’t find a pulse. I stand up and pull my phone out of my pocket to dial 911, but I’m interrupted when I notice a white envelope clutched in Hallie’s right hand. My heart hurts so much, I’m afraid I might be having a heart attack. I reach for the envelope and let out a wretched groan when her stiff fingers don’t immediately let go.
I cover my mouth to stifle the sobs when I see my name written on the envelope. She planned this. From the moment she called me two hours ago, and probably well before that, she knew.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
I whip my head around at the sound of the female voice and for a moment I’m terrified it’s Rory. But when I turn around it’s a brunette I don’t recognize.
“Call 911!” I shout at her. “Now!”
“Holy shit,” she whispers as she fumbles in her pocket for her phone.
I learned CPR when I was sixteen and I got a summer job as a lifeguard, but I never expected I would need to use what I learned to try to bring my baby sister back from the dead. I scoop her up off the bed and lay her gently on the floor. Then I proceed with the chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth.
My mind knows it’s too late, but my heart tells me to keep going. So I keep plunging her fragile breastbone and pumping breath after breath into her deflated lungs. When the paramedics arrive, it takes them a moment to pry my arms from around her limp body. Then, I begin to lose time.
I see flashes of what’s happening around me, but I can’t make sense of any of it. It’s as if my body is here, tucked in the corner of Hallie’s dorm, watching as the medics work on her, but my mind is somewhere else. This must not be happening. Or it’s happening to someone else. That’s not my sister. That is not my sister.
I collapse onto the wooden desk chair in the corner of the dorm and it’s as if the hardness of the chair has woken me to the harsh reality I’ve found myself trapped in. Hallie is placed on a stretcher and the medic continues to apply chest compressions as they roll her out of the dorm.
What time is it? If Rory gets here now, she’ll be beyond shattered. I reach into my pocket to check the time on my phone as I follow the stretcher down the corridor. It’s 1:36 p.m. Hallie said Rory would be here at two. She obviously didn’t want Rory to find her, either. But why did she want me to find her? Did she think I could handle this better than Rory?
They wheel the stretcher into the elevator and I squeeze inside with them, trying not to look at her gray skin.
The medic who’s pumping the oxygen bag sees my discomfort and offers me his condolences. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Why do you guys keep doing that? She’s obviously dead.”
“Do you have a DNR for her?” the guy applying the chest compressions asks. “If not, we have to keep doing this until she gets to the hospital.”
It’s a cold response. No apology or attempt at consolation. Just a big Shut the fuck up and let us do our job. I want to shove him into the wall of the elevator, maybe break his head open, so he’ll stop repeatedly crushing my dead sister’s chest. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse, could it?
It can. I need to honor Hallie’s final words to me and make sure Rory doesn’t make it back to the dorm before I explain everything to her. I can’t let her come back from class and find out on her own from some stranger.
When the elevator reaches the first floor, I let the medics out first. I follow behind them a few more paces, ignoring the onlookers, then I poke the oxygen bag operator on his shoulder.
“Do you need me to ride with you or can I meet you all at the hospital? I have to call my family.”
“No, go ahead and do what you need to do. She’s going to Sacred Heart on Hilyard.”
I call my mom as I head back to the dorm, but I can’t understand a word she says after I break the news to her. Her incoherent wailing fills my chest with an excruciating ache. Somehow, I maintain enough composure to convince her to call a friend so she can get a ride to the hospital.
When I get to the third floor, the campus police have blocked off the entrance to Hallie’s dorm to conduct their investigation. I keep glancing at the time on my phone as I answer their questions. Finally, one of the officers asks me why I keep looking at my phone.
I squint at him in disbelief. “You have some fucking nerve to ask me that. My sister just committed suicide. I promised my mom I’d call her back after I talked to you all. And I have to notify the people that care about her before they find out from someone else. Are we done here?”
He looks like he’s ready to chew me out, but his partner beats him to it. “We’re good. If we need anything else, we’ll give you a call,” he says, patting my arm. “Sorry about your sister.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
I turn to head back toward the elevator when I see Rory stepping out into the corridor. Her eyes are wide with fright and her fair skin is flushed pink. Someone must have already told her what happened.
“No!” she wails as she sees the officers and the crime scene tape over the door. “Hallie!” She races toward us and I catch her around the waist to stop her. “Where is she?”
“She’s gone.” My voice is gruff and shaky as the tears return. “Hallie’s gone.”
“No! Stop lying! Let me go!”
She fights me every step of the way as I carry her back to the elevator. Once we’re in the cabin, she stops fighting and collapses into a heap on the floor. When the elevator reaches the first floor, I help her up and we both walk out of Hamilton Complex in a daze.
I have to call my mom to make sure she found a ride, but I can’t bring myself to do it with Rory here. I know it will only cause her to break down. Ten minutes later, Rory and I arrive at the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art. Instinctively, I grab her hand and lead her up the icy steps toward the entrance. We need to get out of the cold, though I’m not sure it matters. I don’t think either of us can feel anything right now.
I fumble in my wallet when they ask for my student ID so they can let us in for free. We walk the halls like zombies, searching for something to bring us back to life, some piece of art that proves beauty transcends pain, but nothing stands out. We reach the Reflection Garden and head outside again, undaunted by the dusting of snow covering the path around the reflection pool.
The garden is small and empty, so we instantly gravitate toward the stone statues. Two genderless stone figures kneel in front of a large stone shell. One figure plays a flute while the other strums a small instrument held against its chest. We stare at the statues for a moment before Rory finally speaks.
“I can’t go back there.”
Fat tears roll down her cheeks and I glance over my shoulder, hoping no one comes out here to interrupt us. Then I take her in my arms and she sobs into my chest, thick, pitiful cries that sound about as pleasing as nails on a chalkboard. But only because I can’t make them stop.
“You don’t have to go back. You can stay with me.”
She sniffs loudly and draws in a stuttered breath. “No, I can’t.”
She lets go of me and covers her face. I reach up and gently pry her hands away, but she still won’t look at me. Her eyelids are puffy and the whites of her eyes are bloodshot, b
ut she looks even more beautiful than she did when I first noticed her in that white dress.
“Yes, you can. You’re coming to my apartment now.”
“I can’t. I need my stuff.”
“We’ll get it later. Besides, I have to go somewhere private so I can call my mom.” I brush the moisture away from her cheek. “Come with me. I don’t think I can do it alone.”
She finally looks up at me, but she only meets my gaze for a second before she turns away. “Okay.” She tucks her hands into her coat pockets and stares at the statues for a moment. “She told me not to come back until two. Why were you already there?”
“She told me to come at one. She said you were coming back at two.”
She shakes her head and wipes more tears. “My class ended at 12:30. She texted me and told me not to come back till two. I just don’t understand why.”
I think of the white envelope tucked in my back pocket, and consider opening it up right here, but it was addressed to me, not Rory. I have to open it alone.
I place my hand on the small of her back and lead her back into the museum. “We may never know why.”
August 27th
* * *
The walk up to Rory’s apartment feels like a death march. I couldn’t call her to let her know I was coming. I didn’t know if she’d actually see me. And I’m sick at the thought that Liam may be in there with her. After what happened yesterday, I have no right to question who Rory spends time with. And after what I’m about to do today, I have no doubt that I’ll probably never be with Rory again.
I knock on the door and try not to look at the peephole. I can hear the jingling from the tags on Skippy’s collar. I stare at the doorknob, waiting for it to move, but nothing happens.
I step forward and lean my face closer to the doorframe. “Rory, please open the door.”
Skippy lets out a soft bark followed by a desperate whine. I hear her shushing him, but he responds with another baleful howl. The doorknob begins to turn and I step back so I don’t startle her. Skippy wags his tail and whimpers as I greet him with a good scratching around his scruff.
“Skippy, get inside.”
Rory issues this order a few times before he listens to her. She turns to me and fixes me with a dark glare replete with five years of resentment. After a moment, she steps aside and waves me in.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”
“I had to call the hospital myself to try to find out if she was alive and, of course, they wouldn’t tell me anything. Yeah, you could have at least texted me.”
“She’s fine. It’s just a broken arm. How’s your head?”
“Now you care?” She scowls at me for a moment, letting her disdain sink in before she snatches the Sierra Nevada box off the coffee table and holds it out to me. “I don’t want this.”
I clench my jaw against the wave of nausea that sweeps through me as I take the box from her. “She wasn’t pregnant. She was never pregnant. She was lying.”
“Thanks for clearing that up.”
I heave a deep sigh and let it out slowly as I look her in the eye. “Rory, I came here because I told you I would tell you the truth and I intend to keep my word.”
“The truth about what?” she demands. “It’s over Houston. There is no truth that needs to be spoken anymore.”
I shake my head. “I wish that were true.” She watches intently as I reach into my back pocket and retrieve the white envelope containing Hallie’s suicide letter. “She left a note.”
She stares at me for a moment, her face contorted in a mixture of horror and confusion.
“Not Tessa. Hallie.”
The confusion quickly morphs to a fury I’ve never seen, then she pushes me square in the chest. “I hate you!”
“I didn’t want you to read it until you were strong enough.”
Skippy barks as Rory tries to pummel my chest. I tilt my head back, out of her reach, then I drop the letter so I can grab her wrists.
“That’s not for you to decide!” she says, the anguish choking her words. “How could you keep that from me?”
“I was just trying to protect you.”
She groans so loudly it sounds like a thunderous roar. “I wish you would stop protecting me! If it weren’t for your stupid protection, I wouldn’t be picking up the pieces of my life again.”
I grit my teeth at the truth in her words. “I need you to read it while I’m here. I… I won’t leave until you’ve read the whole thing. Then you’ll understand why.”
She yanks her wrists out of my grasp and gently pushes Skippy out of the way so she can snatch the letter off the floor. She heads to the sofa and the dog hops onto the cushion next to her. I sit on the coffee table, facing her so I can see her reaction when she reads the letter. I know the moment she opens that envelope, everything is going to hell. And even if she claims to hate me and resents my attempts to protect her, she’s going to need someone to hold, or someone to punch, when she’s done reading Hallie’s words.
Her hands tremble violently as she stares at my name scrawled on the outside of the envelope. Judging by the tears rolling down her cheeks, she recognizes the handwriting. I hold my breath as I watch her slip the folded five-page letter out of the envelope. She unfolds it slowly and covers her mouth the moment she sees it’s genuine. Clutching the letter to her chest, she closes her eyes as she takes a few deep breaths. Finally, she holds it up and begins reading the words that changed my life forever. The words that gave me a purpose and a love like no other while also destroying everything I knew to be true.
Dear Houston,
* * *
First of all, please don’t show this letter to anyone else. Not Mom. Not Dad. And especially not Rory. And please forgive me for what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do.
You’re probably wondering why I did this. You think there weren’t any signs and that none of it makes sense. You think I had everything going for me and so much to live for. But you need to know the truth. And the short version of the truth is that I was destroyed by love. Now let me give you the long version.
It all began about twenty-eight months ago. I was sixteen and it was the end of the summer before my junior year. Rory and I had made plans to go to the movies on a Friday night, but when I got to her house an hour early, she wasn’t there yet. No one answered the door. So I went down the driveway toward the backyard to see if she was laying out trying to catch a suntan, but she wasn’t there. But her dad was back there, standing on a tall ladder and cutting branches off the big elm tree in their backyard.
He didn’t have a shirt on. His T-shirt was draped over one of the lower branches. The tanned skin of his back was glistening with sweat. He’d been working on getting the yard ready for the fall for a couple of weekends. But it wasn’t until that day, when I was able to look at him without wondering if Rory was watching me, that I finally realized what a beautiful body he had.
I’d always thought James was handsome. Even as a young girl, I thought he was the coolest dad ever. When I first met Rory and she told me her dad used to be an activist and now he was a lawyer, I thought there probably wasn’t anyone in our town as cool as him. But I didn’t really develop a crush on him until I found him sawing the branches off that tree.
It wasn’t just the sight of the muscles working under his skin, it was the thought of what they were working for. He was working to make the yard better for his family. Rory’s mom hated it when the elm tree dumped all its leaves in the fall and winter. And Rory hated it when she had to spend the weekend raking leaves, so he was trying to make their life easier by trimming the tree before autumn.
I think I was feeling more vulnerable that day because I hadn’t seen Dad in almost five months, since I visited him in Salem during Spring Break. But he kept making excuses for why we shouldn’t visit him that summer, so we gave up trying by the end of June. If I had not been feeling so vulnerable, maybe none of this would have happened. I
don’t know.
All I know is that it took a few minutes for James to realize I was watching him. He was friendly as he explained that Rory and her mom had to go to the store to pick up a few things for a teachers’ potluck at school. He said I could wait inside the house, but I told him it was a nice day so I’d just wait on the back deck. The truth was that I just wanted to watch him.
He didn’t seem to catch on the first three or four times I showed up when I knew Rory and her mom would be gone. I told him a couple of times that I had accidentally changed the time on my phone when I reset my alarm clock, which was why I kept showing up at the wrong times, and he seemed to believe me. But when I showed up at their house a couple of days before the first day of school, he finally caught on.
It was about seven o’clock at night and Rory and her mom had left to go shopping for school clothes. When James answered the door, he didn’t bother telling me that Rory was gone or that she’d be back in a couple of hours. He didn’t even invite me in, he just flashed me a reserved smile and opened the door.
I was so nervous. I had been up late the night before trying to figure out how I was going to approach him. School would be starting soon and I thought my opportunities to be alone with him would dry up. I knew I was crazy, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and, in my mind, something had to be done or things would get very awkward very quickly.
I wore a short, flouncy skirt and the UO T-shirt you’d bought for me. I thought this would lull him into a sense of false security, like I wasn’t actually sixteen.
He sat down on one end of the sofa and kept on watching Monday night football while I sat on the other end and pretended to wait for Rory. It took a few minutes for me to work up the courage to slip out of my flip-flops and put my feet up on the coffee table the way Rory and I normally did when we were hanging out in her living room. I watched him from the corner of my eye as I crossed and uncrossed my legs. He seemed to be stealing glances every few minutes, so I upped my game by scratching a pretend itch on the inside of my knee, then I left my hand resting between my legs. This got his attention.