Five Years Ago: The End

Mina Savage is dead.

A week ago Ren stood right beside Oscar as they learned the news together. Her father was the one to say the words. August had summoned her to the house along with Oscar and for a defiant moment Ren was sure it was because August planned on confronting them about being together.

She was ready.

With Oscar next to her she could be brave enough to face the censure of her parents, even if it meant she lost them. She didn’t care a bit how it would look to the world, or that they were only seventeen or that her family would have hysterics. No one would take Oscar away from her.

But when they reached the paneled study where her father spent most of his days he sat there alone, looking far older than he had just that morning when she’d caught a fleeting glimpse of him. Then, in a halting, sorrowful voice he told them what he’d learned an hour earlier over the phone.

“Her heart was weak. So many years¸ so many pills. I don’t have the whole story but she’d apparently been stealing another patient’s meds and she took them all at once. It was a full cardiac arrest. Very quick. There will be no funeral. She’d arranged to be cremated immediately upon death. Oscar, you hear what I’m telling you? Do you hear me?”

“Yes. I hear you, sir.”

Oscar hadn’t cried at all until much later. And then he cried only to her.

Life stayed quiet for a few days. The girls were unusually somber, Spencer kept on being Spencer, August closed himself in his study and even Monty stopped hassling Oscar, giving him space to mourn.

Ren spent every moment with Oscar, even climbing through his window to lie in his arms for a few hours while the rest of Atlantis slept. She worried about the watchful glare of her mother. Sometimes it seemed Lita was everywhere – haunting the front porch of the big house, lingering by the staircase of the brothel. Always with the same impassive mask and never saying a word. The fact that her mother had stopped speaking to her was no great loss to Ren, but she’d spent seventeen years learning to mistrust the woman. The flat, dead-eyed look in her mother’s eyes chilled her more than she could admit.

Now, every day she wakes up to a growing fear of a threat she can’t name but is sure draws closer to her with each stolen moment.

Oscar just kisses her worries away and promises that soon they will leave Atlantis behind. He pointedly ignores the ominous Lita menace. Whenever and wherever she appears, he just stares right through her.

This morning a sleek BMW coasted through the rusty gates of Atlantis and parked in front of the big house. The grey-suited man who exited the vehicle was expected by her father. August shook the man’s hand and led him into the house while Lita trailed after them. Ren had watched it all from the shadows of the brothel where she was sprawled with Oscar, smoking some of Monty’s cigarettes.

“He’s a lawyer,” Brigitte is now saying with snotty authority when Ren enters the bedroom where her sisters are trying on clothes and admiring their bodies in the closet mirror. Bree smiles at her reflection and twists sideways. “He’s here because Mina made such a shit show out of her life and now there’s some housekeeping to be done.”

Of course a man like that would have to be a lawyer but it annoys Ren that Brigitte seems to have all the information already.

“How would you know?” Ren grumbles, flopping on her own unmade bed.

“If you climb over all the antique crap in the den and stand underneath the air vent you can hear every word that’s said in Daddy’s study.”

“And I suppose that’s what you did.” Ren rolls over on her stomach and despite herself, hopes Bree will share whatever else she learned, especially if it involves Oscar’s mother.

“Naturally. It’s not like August and Lita ever tell us anything.”

Ren sits up. “So?”

“So what?”

“So what’s this garbage about Aunt Mina?”

Brigitte preens and rolls the side of her shirt down, exposing a shoulder. She sucks her cheeks in and offers the mirror her most provocative pose. “You’re always yelling at me for gossiping, Loren. I should probably try to turn over a new leaf for your sake. Starting now. So I don’t think I should say a word about Aunt Mina and the disaster she made.”

Ren jumps to her feet and gets between her sister and the mirror. “Bree! You better tell me whatever you know right now.”

“You shouldn’t threaten people, Ren. You sound preposterous.”

“What threat? That was a threat?”

Brigitte pouts. “Your tone was negative. It startled me.”

Ava finishes smearing a thick layer of lipstick on herself and joins the conversation. “Come on, spill it. I want to know too. Do we have another hot blooded cousin stashed somewhere?”

“Nope,” Bree smiles. “In fact we don’t even really have one.”

Ren shakes her head. “Quit speaking in riddles.”

“I’m not. Mina never went through with Oscar’s adoption. She paid off a stack of important people for that kid and then didn’t even bother to finish the basic paperwork. So Oscar Anonymous is no Savage.”

Ren mulls this over. It sounds just like everything she’s ever heard about the chronically irresponsible Mina. It might be a pain in the ass for Oscar, but not the end of the world. “Is that all?”

“Hmmm,” Bree taps a fuchsia fingernail against her teeth. “Almost. Apparently the great globetrotting basket case didn’t leave a will either so Oscar doesn’t get anything, which actually doesn’t matter since she didn’t own shit except a pile of debt and eight trunks full of the tackiest designer labels her bad credit would buy her.”

Ava stops examining a turquoise necklace and looks at Ren. “What does all that mean exactly? What does it mean for Oscar?”

It means he’s nameless and penniless.

Brigitte is staring at her and looks slightly mournful. “It means Lita is already making the case to toss him out on his ass.”

Hearing it out loud is unsettling but Ren and Oscar have already talked about what they would do, where they would go. Of course they were counting on having a few more resources at their disposal but Ren isn’t bothered by the idea of working hard, doing without. As long as she gets to keep Oscar nothing else matters.

“Well,” she says lightly. “Lita never did waste an opportunity to be a bitch.”

Ava’s eyes are wide. “You’d better watch out for her, Ren. There’s something off between her and Oscar. It’s like she hates him or something.”

“The feeling is likely mutual.”

Ava swallows and sinks down on the edge of her bed. “Sometimes I think she hates you too.”

“Again, mutual.”

Bree pulls her shirt over her head and cups her breasts, pushing them together. “Did you guys do it?”

“Who? Do what?”

She grins sweetly. “You’re such a shitty liar. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

“Brigitte!” Ava squeals.

“What? She can do it but I can’t even say it? I am surprised, Loren. I kind of thought you’d die a knee-locked virgin.”

Ren doesn’t react. Bree’s just fishing like she always does. She knows nothing.

“We haven’t done anything. We’re friends. And to hell with you and your filthy mind, Brigitte.”

“Don’t be pissed at me. I just repeat what I hear. Although it would be better if it wasn’t true, especially given all the circumstances.”

“All what circumstances? So he’s not rolling in cash and his last name is a question mark. So what?”

“I meant in light of who else he might have fucked since he got here. Although if that’s true, his standards are disgustingly low. Oh my god, would you stop with the face of shock every time I drop the F bomb? Let’s all say it! Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

“Fuck,” says Ava with a weak smile.

Ren feels slightly dizzy. “Brigitte, you’re not making any sense. You have not messed around with Oscar.”

“God no. Not me. And you can’t point the finger at Ava either.”

“Then what in the hell are you babbling about?”

Bree starts to talk, then seems to change her mind. She glances out the window and sighs. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Ren’s had enough. If she hangs out in here for much longer trying to dodge Brigitte’s outlandish crap there might be blood. She rushes out of the room and ignores Ava when she tries to call her back.

When she reaches the hallway where her father’s study is, she hears voices and the sound of a slowly opening door. She feels slightly idiotic ducking into the den and flattening herself against the wall but further family communication isn’t appealing right now.

The den is densely packed with the possessions of the dead. Every once in a while August mentions clearing it out and letting Ren have it as a bedroom but that day will likely never come. Ren finds herself wedged between an empty curio cabinet and the mounted head of an antlered creature that was probably felled by Rex Savage.

There are footsteps in the hallway and the murmuring of men. And one woman.

Murmur murmur “of course” murmur murmur “rotten publicity” murmur murmur “good thing he isn’t a child” murmur murmur. Then, nothing.

Once the men’s voices recede, Ren peeks out from behind the bristly animal head and sees Lita there alone, standing in the hallway, examining her reflection before a giant round mirror in a manner reminiscent of a gothic evil fairy tale queen.

But Ren’s stomach grows queasy when she sees the wide smile on Lita’s face. On Lita, a smile is as natural as blue jeans on a cat. She waits for Lita to quit admiring herself and move on before stealthily heading for the back door. She wants out of this house. She wants away from these people. She just wants Oscar.

She finds him with Spence. They are spaced about twenty yards apart, clutching shotguns and scanning the desert brush beyond the fake church. Oscar has his shirt off and in Ren’s utterly unbiased opinion he is the hottest guy in the solar system. He glances up as her shadow approaches and immediately breaks into a grin. She’s so lucky. What girl doesn’t pray to be smiled at like this? Lita can issue threats until her face melts off. Every lawyer in the country can drive their suits and phony concern to hell and back. Nothing is going to pull them apart.

“Hunting rattlers?” she asks, turning her face up for a quick kiss and not bothering to check whether Spence is watching. Spence continues combing the ground. Spence doesn’t care who is kissing who.

“Yep.” Oscar shoulders the shotgun and circles his arms around her waist.

She loves being close to him whenever she can, every way she can. She understands now what happens to people, how they lose all sense and reason when they fall as hard as this.

Oscar squints into the sun. “Too many of them around here lately. Someone’s going to take a bad step and wind up with a leg full of venom.”

“We have to talk,” Ren whispers.

Oscar doesn’t ask her what it’s about. He just nods and calls to Spence that he’s talking off for a while. He leaves Spence his shotgun and holds Ren’s hand as they head for the barn where it will be stifling hot but quiet.

There’s a place in the narrow loft they like to go when they need to be alone and can’t find anywhere else. Spence’s tired old mare, Pet, chews lazily and seems to be listening as Ren tells Oscar everything about the lawyer and about Mina.

He seems rather unsurprised, or else he’s putting on a brave face for her benefit. He tells her to stop talking and then sets her gently on her back for a long kiss. She says nothing about Brigitte’s strange claim that Oscar has been with someone other than her since arriving at Atlantis. It’s impossible. He tells her every day that there will never be anyone else, never again. She feels him pressing into her and wants to give him everything he needs. She needs it just as much. His strong hand moves over her skin, underneath her shirt and she arches her body, pushing him higher.

“You sick motherfucker!”

Oscar jerks and springs upright as sharply as if he’s been shot. Ren furiously rolls her shirt down and dares to glance down into Monty’s raging face. He’s not looking at her though. Every ounce of his fury is directed at Oscar. “Yeah, you better get your ass down here!”

Oscar jumps down and circles warily. “Stay up there, Ren.”

“You think you need to protect my sister from me? Is that what you think you shitty little punk?”

“Right now? Yes.”

Monty swings. He’s got a hard right hook but Oscar’s quick. He manages to dodge sideways.

“Montgomery!” Ren shouts. “You stop this right now!”

He flashes her a look that seems almost hurt, probably because in his mind he’s doing his lousy best to protect her honor or whatever from the predatory Oscar.

“I don’t want to get into this with you,” Oscar growls. “Not right now.” Then he sighs tiredly. “Goddammit, Monty, haven’t we knocked each other around enough this summer?”

Monty thinks. Then he smiles, a cold smile. “No,” he says and his next swing is abrupt enough to connect with Oscar’s jaw. Another guy would probably have been knocked over but Oscar just reels backwards momentarily and then rights himself, spitting out a quarter-sized bullet of blood. Without pausing to blink he knocks his right hook against Monty’s jaw. Monty curses, stumbling, and the two of them stand off, each ready to charge ahead and send the other straight to the next county.

Ren jumps down from the loft and gets between them. Monty is startled, dropping his stance and staring down at her with vague puzzlement. “This is between me and him, Ren.”

“No, it isn’t. You knock it the hell off or so help me I’ll never consider you a brother again.”

He’s dumbfounded. “Holy shit, don’t tell me you’ve bought into his act. He’s a horny little con artist.”

“Monty,” she warns, falling back to stand beside Oscar. “I mean it. Whatever battle you think you’re fighting doesn’t exist.”

Ren watches her brother shake his head in disgust. He spits on the ground and addresses Oscar. “This sure as shit isn’t over. You stay the fuck away from my sister or I swear one of these days I’ll kill you.”

Oscar just snorts. “Drop dead you mouth-breathing prick.”

With one more ominous glare at Ren, Monty takes off, stalks over to the pickup truck and peels out of Atlantis.

“Asshole,” Oscar says.

“Sometimes,” Ren sighs. She touches Oscar’s swelling jaw. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s nothing.”

Ren runs her fingers across his cheek, feeling a hint of rough stubble. It excites her. He always excites her. “You know, I bet he’ll be gone all day. Monty’s fits are usually good for about twelve hours of Monty-free living.”

Oscar grins. “Well worth the pain then.”

The little caretaker’s house is messy but blissfully empty. Ren prepares a gourmet lunch of grilled cheese and for the afternoon they pretend there is no Monty, no Lita, no such thing as a Savage. They spend hours in Oscar’s bed, making love tenderly, then playfully rough, then tender once again as the sun fades and an electrical storm rolls through.

“You smell that?” Ren asks as she straddles Oscar and listens to the wind outside.

Oscar props himself on his elbows, leans over and pushes the window open. “Fire,” he confirms. “Probably sparked by a bolt of lightning, likely in the mountain foothills.”

Ren shudders. The wind must be blowing the smoke right in their direction. The acrid stench fills the room. “It won’t reach here, will it?”

Oscar thinks about it. “Nah. There’s not enough on the desert floor to burn. Besides there’s probably rain coming right up. That’ll take care of things.”

“Oscar.” She rests her cheek against his hard chest. “We need to leave. We need to get out of here.”

He strokes her hair. “I know, baby. I know. Just need a few days to get a plan sorted out. Trust me, Ren. We’ll make it. As long as there’s us, there’s everything.”

“I love you, Oscar. I want to keep saying it in case I don’t say it enough.”

“You say it plenty. And you’re the only one I ever want to hear it from. I love you too.”

She shivers and tries to burrow closer to him. She can’t. She just can’t get close enough. “Show me,” she whispers.

It’s ecstasy, as always. He grips her hips and helps her move with deliberate care as they connect yet again. Ren keeps her eyes closed, letting herself go completely, and in that moment she glimpses her future, a future full of Oscar and of bliss, and she knows it will be hers.

It only takes an instant for the vision to shatter.

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asks. He sits up and tips her chin toward him. “Ren. You look terrified. What is it?”

She tries to smile but realizes her right hand is still clapped firmly over her mouth so a smile would make no difference. Slowly, she removes the hand that had flown to her face in horror the moment she’d opened her eyes and looked at the dark open window. Horror, because someone was right there, looking back at her. Someone whose features were twisted into an expression of hatred in its most unfiltered form. And then it was gone.

“Let’s go away,” she begs, clutching him. “Let’s go away tonight. I have a little bit of money from when I did some catalog modeling before we moved out here. Let’s just go. We don’t even have to tell anyone.”

“We will,” he whispers, kissing her lips. “Not tonight but we will.”

“Why not tonight?”

“You’re not eighteen.”

“Neither are you.”

He grimaces. “Maybe,” he mutters. “In any case no one would be looking for me. You’re a different story. This isn’t a movie, Loren. We need a plan. We can’t just slide into the night like a pair of criminals and expect there will be no consequences, that it will all turn out happily ever after.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. She would be reported, the news would hit the tabloids.

“Teenager Loren Savage, daughter and granddaughter of Hollywood legends, runs away from home with a man rumored to be her cousin. The two are thought to be at large somewhere in western Arizona.”

“I know that,” she says with some bitterness as she slowly pulls her clothes back on. “Believe me, I understand exactly how it is.”

Oscar watches her. “Where are you going?”

“The big house. I have a feeling someone’s waiting for me there.”

His dark eyes are troubled and he starts to rise. “I’ll go with you.”

“No.” She kisses him. “No. I’ll be back soon.”

The smoke smell is stronger outside. Ren walks slowly, pausing on the porch of the brothel. The wind plays havoc with her hair and darkens her vision with dust. But in the west, toward the mountains, she thinks she sees a faint orange glow. It could be a brush fire or it could be the last gasp of the vanishing sun. It’s impossible to tell.

Why does she feel like she is being slowly choked from the inside? Every step toward the house is more difficult to take than the last one. She tells herself there is no reason to feel this way. Yes, it was her mother’s face at the window, her mother’s cold eyes of loathing, but there is nothing Lita can do to her. If she tries, Ren will convince Oscar that they have no choice but to leave, authorities and tabloids be damned.

The porch light is dark and she fumbles for the doorknob. The pickup truck is still gone, meaning Monty has not returned. For all their differences, Ren would rather have Monty around right now. No matter how much he despises Oscar, he would never stand still and allow Lita to hurt her. Ren has no such faith in her father.

At first the house is silent and Ren breathes with relief. She tiptoes past the front room and takes a right turn down the hall towards the bedroom she shares with her sisters. Suddenly she wants very much to be where they are.

A door opens at her back and light splashes the dark corridor. “Loren,” says her father. “Come here please.”

Ren tries to calm her quickening pulse as she turns around and cautiously enters her father’s study. She has never been frightened of her father in her life and she isn’t afraid of him now. But when she sees Lita sitting in a leather armchair with her legs crossed, a triumphant smile on her lips, Ren can hardly breathe.

She can’t do anything to me. She can’t do anything if I don’t let her.

Ren crosses her arms and stares straight ahead as August closes the heavy door at her back. That’s when Lita unexpectedly rises, crosses the room, and with the strength of a man strikes Ren across the face so hard her ears ring with the echo.

“You fucking whore,” Lita spits.

Ren barely notices the pain. There is just the shock of being hit. Her nose feels funny and when she touches it with her fingers they come away bloody. She inhales hard, levels a loathing stare at the woman who gave her life and says with stark clarity, “You goddamn bitch.”

“Stop it,” August demands but there’s no authority in his voice. Only exhaustion. “Goddamn it, both of you. Stop.”

“Gladly,” Ren says and turns to leave the room. Whatever these people need to talk about, they can do it without her. She needs to find Oscar. She needs to let him know that remaining in Atlantis is no longer an option.

Lita tears past August and blocks Ren’s exit. “You’re going nowhere. Not tonight. Not ever.” She shakes her head as her silver earrings catch the soft light of the Tiffany lamp on August’s desk. “I knew you were a loser, Loren. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Enough!” August actually raises his voice this time. “Lita, you’ve crossed the line.”

Lita throws him a withering look. “Oh, be quiet, old man. You might strain a vocal chord pretending you care.”

Ren clenches her fists. If Lita wants a fight she can have one. “Get the hell out of my way you poisonous cunt.”

Her mother seems merely amused. “Trashy little words from a trashy little girl. My god, I always figured you for a pathetic fool but assumed you would know enough not to slut it around with the gutter rat your crazy aunt kept for a pet.”

Ren closes her eyes, wishes to be somewhere else, anywhere else. “What is it that bothers you, Lita? That I’m with someone you consider inappropriate? Or that I’ve found something you’ve never had?”

“Oh,” Lita says softly as her smile returns. “I guess it’s time you heard. Loren my dear, sweet, supremely idiotic child, I’ve had everything you’ve had. Only I had it first.”

That’s what Brigitte meant. It’s not true. It’s not even in the same hemisphere as the truth.

“If you think I’ll believe that you’re more vile and crazy than I ever gave you credit for.”

Ren recoils when Lita suddenly reaches out to brush a few fallen strands of dark hair from her forehead. She doesn’t retreat soon enough to avoid being lightly scratched with her mother’s fingernails.

“You fucking little moron,” Lita sighs. “You actually believe he cares. No Ren, he’s the sort of trash who’s only looking for the next hole to satisfy himself.”

Ren glances at her father, silently begging him to put a stop to this nightmare. She doesn’t believe it. Not even for a blink of an eye does she believe Oscar would have a thing to do with Lita. August believes it though. Either he believes it or he can’t be bothered with a contradiction. He breathes heavily and sinks down into a chair.

Lita laughs. “Oh, don’t look at your father as if he’ll object. Oscar’s not the first one I’ve had fun with and he won’t be the last. I suppose you’re old enough to hear that your father and I have had an arrangement since Brigitte was born. I’m free to do as I please. And in this case, like so many others, that’s exactly what I did.”

Ren runs the back of her hand beneath her nose. It has stopped bleeding. “Sorry. It turns out you’ve wasted a round of theatrics, Mom. I know exactly what you are. You don’t know how to do anything but lie and inflict pain. But I won’t be your problem anymore. And neither will Oscar.”

Lita is amused. “Is that because you believe you two will just ride off into the fabled sunset like the dreadful films once set here? No.” She shakes her head with a private smile. “That won’t be happening, Ren.”

“Empty threats,” Ren whispers. That’s all you are. You can’t stop us.”

Lita clucks her tongue. “Well now, that’s not exactly true. Do I really have to remind you that you are a minor?”

“Fine, I’ll get emancipated. I have less than eight months until my eighteenth birthday.”

“Yes, a lot can happen in eight months. Scandal and disgrace. And of course a trial.”

“A trial?” Ren is startled. “What crime has been committed for god’s sake?”

“Do you really think we would allow Mina’s stray to camp out here without performing a few background checks? Among the more interesting nuggets of information we uncovered is the fact that Oscar is over eighteen and of course, as I just pointed out, you are not.”

“Oh god, Lita, you think anyone will care? No one in their right mind would bother with a case like that.”

“They will if I make sure of it. And just imagine all the lovely publicity that will surround you for the rest of your life. I’m aware of how much you adore the spotlight, dear daughter. Loren Savage will go from being Failed Actress to The Girl Who Fucked Her Cousin.”

“This is insane. You are insane. You think no one will realize there’s no biological connection between us? And by the way, I know that Mina never actually adopted him so that means his last name is not even legally Savage.”

Lita sighs. “It saddens me that you’ve learned absolutely nothing. Truth is merely incidental. The story is whatever will sell. Always. The world will see you as cousins because I will make sure of it. And as far as legal trouble goes, if one charge doesn’t stick we can just try again with another. For instance, I believe we will discover that there are some valuable things missing around here. Do not underestimate my resources, girl. What do you think his chances will be by the time I’m finished with him?”

Ren won’t believe that. Even though she’s seen the evidence her entire life she doesn’t want to be part of a world where Lita is right. She holds her head up. “No. You’re just so pathetically twisted that you don’t understand that the truth actually matters to people.”

“Well, by the time you get all that sorted out you won’t be able to set foot outside the door without a camera in your face and your lover will be passing time somewhere in the Arizona penal system. You called me a liar, Ren, and sometimes that’s true. But believe me when I tell you that I will not sleep until that boy is gone, one way or another.”

Ren stares at her mother, true horror settling in. Lita believes in a scorched earth policy. She will set the world on fire to get her way.

“What do you want from me?” Ren whispers. “You just want me to be as miserable as you are?”

Lita’s lips quiver and anyone else might believe she’s trying not to cry. Ren knows otherwise. Her mother is stifling a smile, barely holding in laughter.

Ren turns beseechingly to her weary father. “Daddy. Do something.”

But August Savage’s tired eyes ask her to understand that he simply doesn’t have it in him to stop his wife this time. He doesn’t even want to try. He just wants to remain buried here in the peaceful desert and let all the noise disappear. “I’m sorry, honey. He’s a grown man and he’s not even a member of the family. There’s nothing I can do for him.”

Ren backs away toward the door. She opens it and flees the room. The two people who are responsible for her life are repulsive. She needs to get free of them. She needs to find Oscar. But she needs a few minutes first. Just a few minutes to think.

Her bedroom is hardly a refuge, especially with Brigitte and Ava in there, heads together, watching some inane reality television show on a tablet.

“Oh my god,” Bree exclaims. “What a fucking tool if he did it. You think that’s what happened?”

“Of course it’s what happened,” Ava says with confidence, swinging her long, artificially blonde hair. “It’s on camera.” She glances up when Ren enters the room and shuts the door, giving Bree a little poke in the side.

Brigitte props herself up on her elbows and looks curiously at Ren. “You look like you’re about to hurl.”

“I might,” Ren says, crossing the room and heaving her mattress off the box spring. She picks up a small velvet pouch and removes the contents. Six hundred and seventeen dollars. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Ren holds the wilted bills in her hand and drops to the floor. She needs more time to think and there is no time. After everything that’s been said, a critical stage has been reached. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen tonight. There will be time for doubt and regret later. That’s something she knows with utter clarity; later on there will be too much time.

Her sisters are watching her, their solemn faces excessively painted with makeup.

Ren clears her throat. “You guys. If I ask to borrow whatever money you have, would you give it to me? I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay it back.”

The girls do not say a word. They search briefly through their belongings and deliver every bit of cash they find. The gesture, just a small favor between sisters, means the world right now.

“Thank you,” she whispers and leaves them, praying for a few minutes of quiet so she can find Oscar, so she can make him understand what needs to happen now.

But there is no such thing as quiet. There is her mother charging from August’s study, her father’s tired protests, her sisters’ confused whispers.

Ren flings open the front door and her first deep breath is full of smoke and dust. The rumbling approach of thunder, the crack of nearby lightning, and the sight of Oscar Savage all collide. Every nerve in Ren’s body begs her not to descend those stairs and face them. Not because there is anything terrible waiting. But because she will make it all terrible herself.

“Hey,” Oscar calls above the wind, waving from where he’d been lingering by the old hitching post, likely waiting for her. Ren stops and merely watches as he hurries over. She forces her body to be rigid when he tries to take her hand.

Oscar frowns. “What is it?”

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Ren, what the hell is wrong?”

“You are.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?”

She feels a slow tremor as it begins in her heart and spreads everywhere. She clenches her fists at her side. It’s the only way she can avoid throwing her arms around his neck.

“I know,” she says quietly.

“You know what?”

Ren forces herself to look into his face. He’s full of confusion, concern. She’ll break his heart. She’ll break hers too. “I know all about you, Oscar. All about you and Lita.”

Immediately he lets out a snort of laughter. Of course. Because it’s absurd. He won’t believe she’s serious. She has to make him believe. She takes a step back and looks at him with loathing.

“I know you fucked my mother and then moved on to me. It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting!”

“Are you crazy? If this is a sick joke it isn’t funny, Ren.”

She remembers Lita’s words, hears her cold voice repeating terrible things that are a lie. “You are the sort of trash who’s only looking for the next hole to satisfy yourself.”

“Loren.”

“You got what you wanted. Now you need to go.”

“This is bullshit! I don’t know what the hell this is really about but I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you will. You have to.” She pushes the wad of bills against his chest. “Here.”

He stares down at the money. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s not much, but I’m sure my father will give you more if that’s what it takes.”

Oscar grabs her by both wrists just as a cannon of thunder explodes overhead. “You don’t fool me,” he whispers, his breath hot on her neck. “I know this is not you talking.”

She almost wavers. She closes her eyes and nearly tips forward right into his arms, knowing if she does she won’t have the will to ever leave them again. Rain begins to fall; slow, fat drops. When she opens her eyes the scene is full of people. It’s no longer just her and Oscar.

As of right now there can’t be any more Loren and Oscar.

Monty has chosen this moment to return. He parks the truck less than ten yards off and doesn’t cut the headlights, perhaps just stunned and perplexed by the sight of everyone hanging around in the muddy yard. The harsh yellow light of the beams let Ren see everything, more than she wants to see. Spencer stands about ten feet away, two shotguns slung over his shoulder. Brigitte and Ava have emerged from the house, wide-eyed with bewilderment, sharing the shelter of a pashmina scarf to keep the rain from their carefully teased hair. Lita and August are not far behind, Lita trying to elbow her way closer to enjoy the chaos she has caused.

And Oscar…

Oscar who she loves more than she loves herself is wearing a mask of betrayal and anger. She steps away from him, knowing there won’t be any forgiveness for what comes next.

“Go,” she whispers.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Go, Oscar!”

“You don’t mean it.”

“Yes I do. We are finished. We are nothing. And you just…you need to leave me alone now!”

He doesn’t touch her again. He leans in close and speaks in a low voice that only she can hear over the wind and thunder. “Then you better goddamn well say it. Tell me you don’t want me. Ren, you tell me that and I swear to god you’ll never fucking see me again.”

She pulls back. “I don’t want you, Oscar. I don’t want you. I DON’T WANT YOU!”

A bolt of lightning. A sonic boom of thunder. One final glimpse of his devastated face before she turns and walks deliberately away.

The first person in her path is Spencer. She gives her brother a beseeching look and silently begs him to understand when she whispers, “Help him.”

Walking is difficult. Almost as difficult as breathing. Her mother, a malevolent wraith, and her father, a weary loser, say nothing as she passes them.

But then suddenly her sisters are there, on either side, supporting her. She’s never leaned on them before in her life but now she’s so very grateful that they exist. They bring her indoors, to the sanctuary of their shared bedroom and they fall in a pile on the nearest mattress. Ren doesn’t even know whose bed it is. All she knows are the soundless wails of anguish that shake her soul as she curls into a ball and shivers while her sisters hover, silently stroking her hair. She hopes it’s not the same for Oscar, that he feels more anger than grief.

It’s the grief that’s unbearable. Anger is easier. Withdrawal is easier. If anyone dares to ask her for an explanation she will never tell them. At this point there is nothing to tell. There is no repairing this. The only way to endure, to survive, is to forget.

She closes her eyes, sees Oscar’s face, and then willfully banishes it. As her chest heaves and her body is wracked with sobs, only one thought rolls through her mind, over and over.

A plea. To herself, to Oscar, to an infinite and unsympathetic universe.

Forget me. I’m sorry. Forget me.

CHAPTER TWENTY

OZ

I can’t seem to follow my own plans so I keep inventing new ones. Two nights ago when I drove out of Atlantis, my agenda involved several days of wide open roads before landing in Glacier National Park. I could picture myself hiking through the stunning scenery as clearly as if I was already there. It would be clean, the air crisp. It would look nothing like the desert. There, in the Big Sky Country, I could salvage the peace of mind I’d lost the minute an oily California opportunist called for a man named Oscar Savage.

Somehow though I wind up in Flagstaff and decide the world might look a little more cheerful after some sleep. My phone remains in my glove compartment and I haven’t touched it. It makes my head hurt a little bit to think of how much it’ll be blowing the fuck up if I actually dare to turn it on.

There’s no reason for me to hang around in Flagstaff for an entire day but that’s exactly what I do. Four hours get swallowed up in a black hole at a greasy café that serves good coffee and buzzes with the chatter of tourists en route to the Grand Canyon. Even though I’ve seen the Grand Canyon before, there isn’t anything on earth quite like it so I abruptly decide that I ought to see it again.

On my way out of Flagstaff I stop to pick up some supplies. It’s enough to camp out comfortably for at least a week although I don’t really have any sort of a timeline in mind right now. No one on earth knows where I am. As I follow a line of cars on US Route 180 I wonder if I should examine why I can’t seem to find my way out of the state of Arizona.

If I say I’m not thinking about her I’d be lying. If I insist that my own actions deserve an ounce of pride I’d be lying about that too. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve royally screwed up.

Since it’s summer, the park is pretty crowded. It’s mostly families of all shapes and sizes posing by the rim, grinning ear to ear before a backdrop of one of earth’s most stupendous wonders. Snaking down the Bright Angel Trail behind slow-moving crowds and tourist-laden pack mules isn’t appealing at the moment so I decide to go hunt down a place to settle. I grab a spot in the middle of a crowded campground and pitch the cheap tent I’d impulsively purchased in town.

It doesn’t take long to get set up. The faint breeze blowing through the tall evergreens is a welcome change from the bleak blaze that scorches the central part of the state. But once I get a look around I realize this is bound to be pretty far from the journey of serenity I had in mind. There are kids tearing pell-mell every which way, music blaring, couples bickering, grills smoking and dogs barking. The campsites are so close together I can almost reach one-handed into my neighbor’s site and spear a brat from the hibachi.

On my other side, a family rolls into camp in a stuffed minivan that spits out two restless little boys as soon as the wheels stop moving. A man who probably spends as much time outdoors as I spend dressed in a kilt spills out of the driver’s side and I expect to hear him start bellowing at the kids. But he just smiles at them indulgently and leans against the van as his boys start fencing with long sticks. After wiping his sweaty red face with the hem of his shirt he starts unloading a ton of crap from the back. His tent is one of those monsters that’s large enough to be a small house and I can tell he’s gong to have a hell of a time getting it to stand. He seems to realize that too. Dismay is written all over his face when he gets a load of the size of the thing and all the poles and stakes involved. Meanwhile, a woman exits the van, checks the kids and walks over to him. She’s pretty. Petite and dark-haired, with a gracefulness about her, she takes the man’s arm and rests her head on his shoulder in a way that any red-blooded guy would envy.

He kisses her on the forehead and says something, pointing to the two boys. I shouldn’t be staring and listening but I can’t hear anything anyway because someone nearby has decided everyone within a one-mile radius needs Taylor Swift telling them to shake it.

The woman nods, kisses his lips, and calls to the boys, who apparently have rhyming names ending in ‘aden’. The three of them wave at the man and start walking cheerfully away as he begins surveying the tent pieces at his feet. He probably sent them on a hike so he can figure out how in the hell he’s going to get this thing upright without losing his man card in the eyes of his wife and kids. He pulls his phone out, squinting and scratching his head. When I catch a few words and realize he’s watching some ‘How To Put Up A Tent’ video that he probably found on YouTube, I’ve had enough. I hop off the flat rock I’ve been sitting on and decide to be useful.

He looks up expectantly when he sees me closing in. “You staying right next door?”

“Yeah. Look, I’ve got time to kill. Don’t mind helping you get your camp sorted out if you want.”

He stares at me a moment, apparently decides I’m non-threatening and then extends his hand. “Appreciate it. Name’s Steve.”

“Oz.”

“As in wizard?”

“As in short for Oscar.”

Steve turns out to be chatty. He’s a financial adviser from the Phoenix area and this is his first family vacation in two years. The people who look like his wife and kids are in fact his wife and kids. The way he talks about them, with a kind of shining pride, marks him as one of the good guys even if he can’t pound a stake into the ground to save his life.

After I get the stakes in and the tent upright there doesn’t seem to be much point in hanging around. Steve’s family is bound to return sooner or later and it would be better if I wasn’t here saving the day. Anyway, there’s got to be a less traveled trail I can explore for the remainder of the afternoon. As I’m grabbing some water from the truck and getting ready to head out, Steve calls me back.

“Thanks for the hand, Oz. Listen, I may not be winning any prizes for outdoor survival anytime soon, but I can cook up a mean rib eye on the grill. Why don’t you drop by later and take advantage?”

I have to grin over his earnestness. “I may just do that, Steve. Thanks for the offer.”

When I’m out of the carnival-like camp atmosphere, I pause, check the position of the sun and start heading due east. I’ve got a bit of time before dark sets in and I plan on using it to clear my head. The other night when I drove out of Atlantis, I was just fine for the first hour as I rehashed current events.

I thought I’d climbed out of the shadows and jumped back into Ren’s life just because I needed to see if there was anything left between us. But now I think maybe I wanted to torment her a little in the process. That’s tough for me to admit to myself but it’s true. A good guy, a guy like Steve for example, would have chosen to do it somewhere that didn’t have cameras. I could have done that. I should have done that. Maybe that old grudge was never as distant as I’d thought.

There haven’t been any other hikers in sight for the last half hour. I’m probably several miles from the rim of the canyon but that’s okay. The woods have a special brand of peace all their own. The colors here are faintly pastel, punctuated with thick greenery. I hear a rustling in the leaves to my right and for a split second I’m looking straight into a pair of startled brown eyebrows before the creature – no antlers, a female – bounds off elsewhere.

A few steps later I hear the rolling sound of nearby water and turn towards it. The brook is narrow but moves along at a good clip. The deer had probably paused here for a drink before I scared her off.

Now that Ren is back in my head I can’t get her to leave. What’s more, I keep flashing back to that sex show in the back of my truck. If the idea of using her that way was to get my fill and move on then it doesn’t seem to have worked. At least for me. Maybe it did for her.

All it takes is a quick memory jump, featuring her perky rosebud nipples and her sleek body opening underneath me, and I’m hard as fuck once more, wondering when it’s going to stop. Is this how it’s going to be forever? Is it what’s going to happen next time I’m getting it on with some other girl? Instead of being all pumped up about what’s in front of me I’ll just be comparing her to Ren Savage.

I’ve got to get past this. I’ve got to replace her with something else, anything else.

Yup, I’ll get right on that as soon as I finish kneeling here on the creek bank and punching the clown with my hand while I fantasize about fucking her.

I had her down. I had her conquered. I had her begging for sweet release and willing to get busy in seventeen filthy ways. And even as it stings the edges of my heart a little I can’t stop thinking about it.

When I’m done, I rinse off in the creek and zip my pants up, feeling guilty as a fourteen year old kid who’s dicking around with himself in the bathroom while his mother screeches from down the hall that dinner is ready. For a while I just sit on a wide rock, listening to the water and trying to remember details about one single other girl that I’ve dated or fucked or just had a cup of goddamn coffee with.

And that’s the problem with trying to replace Ren. That’s always been the problem.

In spite of everything, I don’t want to replace her. I can’t.

When I get back to the campground it sounds like a street festival and smells like burnt hot dogs. Sleep may not be on the table tonight. I figure I’ll just make do with the granola I’d picked up at the store and keep to myself. If the spirit of masochism takes over I can check my phone and see what kind of damage I missed over the last few days. I haven’t touched base with Brock in over a week. It might not be a bad idea to let someone know where the hell I am. It’s a pretty safe bet I have about sixty-eight voicemails from Gary and friends reminding me of contracts and other failures. Sooner or later I’ll call him back. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll tell him I’m done answering questions and that I’m not going to interfere with whatever they decide to do with the footage.

I’d forgotten all about Steve and his promise of steak until he yells good-naturedly that I ought to come on over.

Steve blinks the smoke away and offers me a plate. “I took a guess that you’re a man who likes his dinner well done.”

“You guessed right,” I say and confess that once I’ve got the juicy rib eye under my nose I’m suddenly hungry as a bear.

Steve’s wife, Michele, perches on a footstool and eats daintily while asking me polite questions. The boys, who I have started thinking of as Aden 1 and Aden 2, toast marshmallows and make charming messes of their faces until Michele sighs and escorts them to the campground bathroom to get cleaned up.

“You’re not here with any friends?” Steve asks, blotting his dripping chin with a paper napkin.

“Nope. I tend to travel alone.”

Steve doesn’t say anything and I wonder if he’s having second thoughts about inviting some sketchy loner to hang out with his family. He doesn’t let on if anything’s bothering him though. He just starts gathering trash in a plastic bag while I chew my steak.

“First time at the Canyon?” he asks.

“No. You?”

“Drove up here once before, years ago. Day trip. Asked a girl to marry me that day.” He pauses and smiles wistfully at the memory.

“I hope she said yes.”

“She did. I’ve got the boxy minivan to prove it.”

“We should all be so lucky. I just lost my girl.”

What in the god almighty hell made me say that??

Steve is looking at me now. I wonder if he drugged my steak with some sort of suburban truth serum. That doesn’t make any sense though. Especially because what I said isn’t even the truth. Ren hasn’t been ‘my girl’ for a long time. The shit that happened between us during my brief Atlantis intrusion sure can’t count as a relationship. I’m just dehydrated or something.

Michele returns with the two boys, who are now dragging their feet like they are in the throes of a sugar crash. She stands behind Steve’s chair, rests her soft hands on his shoulders and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’d better get these two rascals off to bed.”

“I’ll be inside in a little while,” he tells her and she blows him a kiss before disappearing behind the tent flaps with the kids.

Steve leans over, opens a red cooler and withdraws two dripping cans of beer. He tosses one to me and I’m happy to catch it. It only takes me a few seconds to drain the whole thing. Steve, on the other hand, takes one careful sip and lets the can rest on his knee.

“Sorry,” he says, “about your girl.”

I feel like I ought to correct my earlier statement, about how I didn’t really lose a girl because she wasn’t mine in the first place. But I don’t. I just sigh and lower my head. “Eh, it was my fault. This time anyway. Just couldn’t get out of my own way.”

“That sounds like a bad case of regret.”

I think about the look on Ren’s face when she first saw me pull up to Atlantis. I think about how I played it like a cocky fucker right up until the end even though all I wanted to do was talk to her. It’s never made any sense to me, the way she turned away from everything we had. I have no doubt her parents made some threats but that wouldn’t have stopped the girl I thought I knew. Yet when I finally sought out the chance to get a real answer I couldn’t seem to say one single honest thing. So of course neither did she.

“Yeah,” I admit slowly. “I’ve got a few regrets. She might have some too. But I guess there just comes a time in every doomed relationship when you’ve got to cut the ties for good, you know? Move on.”

Steve doesn’t respond right away. He takes a long gulp from his can of beer and glances at the tent when the sound of a giggling child filters out. A vague smile crosses his face and then disappears. He looks at the ground and keeps his voice low. “I’ll tell you something. We’ve had our moments, Michele and I. We were young when we met, about your age. My frat boys were giving me a time about being pussy whipped. Said there’d be plenty of more chances to find something just as good or better.”

“Obviously you knew they were full of shit.”

Steve nods. “I know that now. Back then it took me a little while to locate my brain. We were apart for a year.” Steve frowns, perhaps remembering what it was like to nurse a huge hole in the heart for a while. “I wish I could say that I came to my senses overnight but in truth it was a slow process. Had a lot of growing up to do. I don’t know why she took me back. God knows she could have done a thousand times better.”

“Well,” I say because there’s no non-corny way to respond when some dude spills his guts over a campfire. “Looks like it all worked out pretty smoothly. You guys seem like you’ve got the dream.”

He leans back in his chair and sighs. “Oz, you’ll probably never meet a happier man but that doesn’t mean we don’t have to work at it. Even if it’s the best kind of work it’ll still twist your heart into knots sometimes. All I can do is try to be worthy. And let me tell you, I’ll try every day until I run out of days.”

While I mull over Steve’s words he finishes his beer and carefully places the can in the garbage bag. Suddenly he lets out a small chuckle.

“Forgive me if things took a turn for the heavy handed. I’m not really in the habit of dispensing random advice like the wise old man cliché at the end of every story. Just hate to see a young guy like you all lonely and defeated if you’ve got someone worth fighting for.”

Lonely.

The word tugs at me. Am I lonely? Seems like a weak question, a question for guys who wax their forearms and shiver when it’s seventy degrees out. I’ve always thought of myself in solitary terms. Never as part of anything. Well, never except for those few ancient months I was with Ren. And however that turned out, it was special at the time. Maybe if the world had just tilted a little bit differently it could have been something that lasted. Maybe I could have been like this guy, a vital piece of a bigger picture.

“Not sure if there’s enough left to fight for,” I tell him. “At this point we’ve done things to each other. Hell, we might both be tired of fighting anyway.”

Steve tilts his head back and peers at me shrewdly. “Are you? Are you tired of fighting?”

I think about the question for a long time. “I thought I was. But maybe not. Maybe it’s a little closer to the truth that I haven’t even started fighting yet.”

Steve seems pleased with my answer. “That’s how you know it’s not over, buddy. That’s how you know.”

I sit there grappling with the idea while Steve ties the corners of the trash bag together. The sounds of the campground are softening as the night settles. There are low voices and the faintest wisps of music.

The flap of the big tent opens and Michele pokes her head out. “Babe, can you bring me some water when you come inside?”

Steve winks and reaches over to dig around in the red cooler. “I’ll do better than that,” he says and triumphantly produces a bottle of wine. His knees pop when he stands and he turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “You planning on sticking around tomorrow, Oz?”

I was planning on it, but now I’m not. “Actually I think I’ll be heading out before dawn.”

“Ah, hitting the road early.”

“Yep. Want to be well on my way before the crowds get moving.”

He stretches his torso, twisting first one way and then the other before extending the hand not holding the wine bottle. “Well buddy, best of luck to you in your travels.”

I shake his hand gladly. As he disappears behind the tent flaps I have to wonder what it’s like to be him, to be a man who the world would count as unremarkable yet has everything.

And suddenly I know that if I could choose one destiny I would choose that one.

It’s not late and I’m not tired but after a little while I duck into my own tent for the night. I told Steve the truth when I said I want to get out of here early to avoid the masses on the road. I know what I need to do. It’s time I really did start fighting for something.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

REN

Cate Camp bangs on the front door at the crack of dawn. Since I haven’t slept much the past several days I’m awake enough to fling the door open before she manages to disturb the whole house.

“Loren.” She slides right past me without being invited inside. There are no crew members straggling behind her so she must have driven out here from Consequences alone. She paces the front room with her teeth sucking loudly on her bottom lip and I get the feeling she’s high on something.

“Come on in,” I say with a dash of irritability. Cate Camp annoys the crap out of me. She has been in what I would politely call ‘a state’ ever since she heard that Oscar took off. Apparently Gary Vogel is displeased with the turn of events and holds her at least partially responsible. I can’t really muster much sympathy for her career though when my heart is in shreds.

Cate stops pacing and fumbles through her vagina-sized designer wristlet. She withdraws a black e-cig and starts vaping with a vengeance. She looks me over and I think I detect a slight frown of disapproval, although with all the collagen she’s pumped into her lips it’s tough to tell. At any rate I haven’t showered yet today and I’m probably not looking very fetching.

I plunk back down on the leather sofa where I’ve been reading for hours from one of August’s dusty old books, Volcanic Formations of the American Southwest. It’s captivating stuff. Either I’ll end up suddenly yearning for a career in geology or I’ll fall asleep. Win win.

Cate Camp vapes and fidgets and stares out the window with her e-cig pinched between two manicured fingers.

“Today will be the day,” she says fearfully. “He’s coming today.”

“Who? The anti-Christ? Pardon me while I get dressed then.”

She ignores my sarcasm. “Gary only travels out for filming if there is a huge setback. Once the pieces are in place he expects that everything will proceed smoothly.”

I stare down at black and white photos of Sunset Crater. “That’s interesting. Is everything not proceeding smoothly?”

Cate Camp shoots me a dirty look. “Your cousin or whatever the hell he is really fucked things up. I always thought he was a wild card. But Gary figured having him here would be useful for dramatic effect.”

Slowly I turn a page. “Gary was right. It was dramatic.”

“What happened out there, Loren? Oz was insufferable about following instructions from the beginning but you had been fairly cooperative. I’m not oblivious. I know you’re here reluctantly but you need to remember you have a job to do.”

Slowly I raise my head and look her in the eye. “It’s not a job to do. It’s a life to live.”

She merely shrugs. “Not right now it isn’t. You have a contractual obligation so spare me the self-righteous talk.” Cate Camp primly returns her e-cig to her vagina purse and gives me a rubbery smile. “And I’ll have you know that we have enough footage to show there was something going on between the two of you. Looks like it was shaping up into a hell of a story considering your past together. But this leaves me with a problem. A story is nothing to an audience without an ending.”

“Oh. Would you like an ending?”

She practically leaps across the room. “Yes, I would like an ending!”

“Okay. It’s not very exciting though. We argued about whose turn it was to feed the chickens and he, Oz that is, said he was tired of feeding chickens and he was going to return to life as a reclusive mountaineer.”

Cate Camp is angry. I can tell because the bulbous collagen flaps on her face are quivering. “That is not what happened.”

Is it sick that I find her distress amusing? I bat my eyelashes innocently. “Really? Funny, that’s how I remember it. I can go in the Blue Room and discuss it in detail for the sake of posterity.”

A sound erupts from her throat. It sounds like a snarl. “Gary will have something to say about this. You can be sure of it. And if you think you’re saving face here you’re wrong. We are obliged to edit the content however we please.”

I close the book, feeling oddly detached. Perhaps I’ve sobbed out all my emotions already. I press my thumbs against my temples to relieve the building pressure. “Just go away, Cate. If you want a different ending then make one up. Oz is gone. He’s not coming back. You’ll have to live with it.”

As will I.

She hisses like a reptile and stalks to the door. Before she gets there she tosses off a few words that she probably thinks are insulting. “Go hose yourself off. You look fucking homeless.”

The door slams. I close my eyes and concentrate on pressure points to alleviate the looming migraine. I should go to my room and dig out some of my essential oils. When I open my eyes again my nephew is standing in the hallway with a drooping diaper and a stuffed monkey.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I smile and open my arms. The best thing to come out of these last few weeks has been the opportunity to spend time with him.

Alden gives me a crooked grin and scampers into my arms. I gather up his warm little body and ask him if he’s hungry. He nods eagerly and twists my hair around his fingers.

By the time I get the kid changed and settled down with a bowl of oatmeal, I glance at the clock and realize it’s nearly time for the crew to show up for the day. Spencer is the only one who sleeps less than I do. He was out and about before the sun even waved hello this morning. The crew knows by now that bothering Monty before noon is not a good idea. They are likely to merely lurk around the house for a while, filming Ava and Brigitte drinking coffee and arguing about petty everyday things.

My sisters have been cutting a wide path around me and for that I’m grateful. These days I sometimes feel like I’m barely hanging on. That shouldn’t be. I’ve lived without Oscar for a long time and of course I can live without him again.

But something happened to me during those brief, burning moments in the desert a few nights ago. I let myself go, not caring how far we were taking it, not listening to the pitiful begging that came out of my own mouth.

Oscar had me figured out all right. He knew I was trying to scrub him out for good. Out of my mind, out of my heart. I wanted him to take it all out on me; the hostility, the bitterness, everything he must have been harboring for the past five years. I wanted him to make me forget the heartbreak of losing him. I warned him he needed to make it hurt.

And he did. My god, he did. Far more agonizing than any physical pain is the agony of the heart.

“Morning.” Ava pads into the kitchen, all sleepy-eyed and beautiful with her hair flowing over her shoulders and a simple blue dress hugging her curves. Alden lights up and runs to her. She settles him on her hip and pats his back. “What are you doing up so early, baby?”

“He’s been keeping his old aunt company.”

Ava scrutinizes me. I know she’s worried. She saw me at my worst once, five years ago. She saw me cry so hard I couldn’t breathe. She doesn’t want to see me like that again. “So what’s going on today, Ren?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll do some laundry. That would probably make a captivating episode. Oh, and Cate Camp stopped by. She says Gary might show up.”

“Gary Vogel?”

“I think he’s the only Gary left in this century.”

She gives a short laugh and swings Alden down to the floor. “Did she say what he wanted?”

“I think he wants to yell at me for not inviting the cameras to observe my wild sexual exploits.”

Ava’s eyebrows shoot skyward. I hadn’t said it out loud yet. Of course anyone with half a brain would have figured it out the night he disappeared and I wandered home looking fairly used and disheveled. But I hadn’t admitted it. I guess it’s time to admit it.

“I wish…” I whisper but I can’t seem to finish the sentence. There’s that good old thick knot in my chest again. It has Oscar’s name on it. I was an idiot to think I could just fuck it away.

My elbows are up on the table now and my head is down, my fingers laced behind my neck. Those two words keep bouncing around the room.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish.

I’m drowning in wishes. Things I wish I hadn’t said. Things I wish I hadn’t done. Things I wish I had said. Courage I wish I could have found. Years I wish I hadn’t lost.

Soft arms surround me. My sister presses her head against mine.

“I know,” she whispers back.

I stay inside that comfortable hug for a full minute, holding on to my little sister and trying not to leak snot on her shoulder. When that’s over I pat Alden’s head and start down the hall, figuring I ought to make an effort to look slightly better than ‘fucking homeless’.

But before I get to the shower I take a detour. I’ve been avoiding the Blue Room since my first week here, spending less than five minutes on my required self-interviews. Typically I gloss over anything that might be important and instead summarize events like the cleaning of the chicken coop or the loading of the dishwasher. Whenever Cate Camp pulls me aside for an entreaty to ‘dig a little deeper’ I just pretend like I don’t hear her.

Since almost everything I’ve been doing since I got here just isn’t working I make up my mind to try something else. Determinately I wind my long hair into a knot and push a few stray strands behind my ears. I’m wearing a ratty old gym ensemble, I slept very little last night, and I haven’t even washed my face. In other words, I’m not classic camera material. But that will have to be okay.

I flip the camera on and settle into the papasan chair. This time, wh

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 793