Savage Delight (22 page)

“I already am.”

***

Today is easier.

It’s not any brighter – the darkness still lingers on the edges of my vision but I punch it in the gut and drive to the hospital anyway. I pause in the doorway of the ER.

The first time I came in here, I was a different person. Also, unconscious and bleeding. But also extremely different. Louder. And more obnoxious. And less evil. It’s clearly not a fair trade. But no trades are ever really fair. I’ve learned that much.

“Isis!”

I look over to see Dr. Mernich coming towards me, her flyaway hair even fuzzier today.

“M-dawg!
What’s going down in crazy town?”

She laughs. “Nothing much, really. All the interesting pranks conducted around here suddenly and mysteriously stopped once you left.”

“Ah, well. What can I say? Poltergeists are fickle. Also, supernatural and imaginary. But mostly fickle.”

“Are you here to visit Sophia?”

“Yeah.”

“You look much better,” she says, looking me up and down. “You sound better.”

“Do I? Because I feel like shit now more than ever.”

“But now you’re feeling it. Not running away from it. That’s a good start. Little steps, remember?”

I nod. “Yeah. I think I’m getting there. I mean, a fancy mind-wipe machine like in Eternal Sunshine would be helpful and extremely welcome, but hey, you scientist guys are slow and always out of funds. I forgive you.”

Mernich
smiles, but it fades quickly. “Isis? Just between me and you – how is Sophia doing, you think?”

“I dunno. One minute she likes me, the next she hates me, the next she’s crying on me. But she seems like she’s stronger, somehow. She’s focused on the things that really matter to her, now. And she’s still nice. She’s always nice.”

“Except when she isn’t,” Mernich offers.

“Yeah.
That.”

Mernich
turns my words over, and finally claps me on the shoulder.

“Well, thank you for coming to visit her so often. She really does like you, you know. Deep down. She sees you as herself, and wants you to be happy like she can’t always be.”

“None of us can be happy all the time.”

“Yes. But you certainly try more than anyone else, don’t you?”

Her words hit hard. She smiles one last time, and turns and walks down the hall, calling out to another doctor.

I peek into the kid’s ward, but Mira and James are out to lunch in the cafeteria. Sophia’s door is open, and I walk in to see her and Jack, hugging. I back up immediately, and Sophia hears me first and pulls away.

“Isis! Hey!” She runs over and hugs me, and I look at Jack over her shoulder. He’s expressionless, the slightest frown on his face.

“Hi, sorry, wow. I just barged in here without even knocking first. Dang. I’m really sorry,” I say.

“It’s okay! I’m just glad you’re here. You, and Jack, and me, all together for once. It’s great. Isn’t it?” She turns to Jack and asks. He nods, stiffly, and then locks eyes with me. It’s quick, but it lingers, and reminds me of everything that happened that night in the hotel – how kind he was, how warm. I feel my face burning up, and Sophia staring at me.  

“I should go,” Jack says suddenly.

“What? Why? Work again?” Sophia tilts her head.

“No. I just don’t want to get in the way of any girl talk.”

“Periods,” I say to Sophia immediately. “Huge, bloody periods.”

“Tampons!”
She shouts.

Jack pushes past us, and out the door. “I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll be back.”

When he’s gone, Sophia turns to me.

“So? What’s up?”

I hold out the silver bracelet. It jingles faintly in the air. Her blue eyes widen, and she reaches out, reverently, to take it. She strokes the name engraved on it with her thumb.

“Tallie,” she whispers.

“I couldn’t bring back…um. The rest of her. I mean, that’s her grave, so that’s where she should stay, you know? That’s where she rests. But I thought you’d like the bracelet.”

Sophia’s quiet for a long time. She traces the bracelet chain over and over. Just as I start to feel awkward for staying, she raises her voice.

“Jack got it for me. After it happened. It’s nice to have it back.”

I try to smile, but it comes out crooked.

“It’s been with her for years, now,” she continues. “In the ground, with her. I could see her, or visit her. But now it’s with me.”

“Now
she’s
with you,” I offer. Sophia looks up, eyes wet, and flings her arm around my neck.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Let me make it up to you, okay? I really wanna make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, actually, I know things have been really hard? And like, your life is hard? So I don’t want to make it extra hard?”

“You won’t be! Avery’s doing the entire party, so I won’t be doing anything stressful. All you have to do is wear something ‘rad’, or whatever, and come!”

“Uh, historically I haven’t had the greatest experience at Avery’s parties.”

“Neither have I,” She reminds me. “But it’s my birthday party, and she’s promised to behave herself. And I’ll be there, so I’ll keep an eye on her. I’d just like it if you came. Wren’s coming, and so is Jack. And a bunch of other people who I was supposed to go to school with, so like, most of your class.”

“Big party?”

“Huge! And there’s a cake, and a DJ, and please,
please
come!”

Her face is shining, in the same way it used to shine when I’d make her laugh, back at the beginning. Back when I first came here.

“Yeah.
Yeah, alright. I’ll come.”

Sophia smiles, relief carving her features.

“Awesome. Okay, it’s on the 28
^th
, up at her house. It’s supposed to start at seven, but you should arrive fashionably late, because the booze is also arriving fashionably late.”

“You know me too well.”

Sophia shakes her head, and laughs.

“I thought I did. But, no. No, Isis. I don’t know you at all.”

-11-

3 Years

31 Weeks

1 Day

Avery’s house is familiar in all the wrong ways. I park in the same place I always do – easy to back out and easy to drive away fast if I gotta. The music is thumping across the lawn, down into the street, and permeating the gated community. It bounces off the trees and the dozens of cars parked haphazardly in her yard. People are already drunkenly stumbling out of the front door, lying on the lawn, wrestling with each other and chasing each other with toilet paper and the hose.

I smooth my shirt one last time. It’s the Florence and the Machine one I wore here the first time, and I didn’t even realize I was wearing it until I got in the car. My jeans are frayed on the thighs – not because I bought them at some high boutique that purposefully frayed them – but because I’d eaten pavement so many times on my bike back when I was losing weight. The cool air on my thighs through the fray reminds me how broken the jeans are, and why they’re broken, and how I broke them myself. I did it. I broke them, but I can still wear them, and they work just fine at what they’re supposed to do – cover my fabulous butt.

Things are broken, but they still work.

I get out and pull my jacket closer to me. It’s bitter cold. Did spring not get the memo? Does spring ever get memos? What are they written on, leaves? Petals? The carcass of a newborn deer?

“Getting maudlin this early in the night, are we?”

I look up. Jack’s standing there, in a preposterously gross leather jacket and dark jeans. Wren’s standing by him, looking a little shook up in his usual plaid shirt.

“It’s sort of my job,” I say. “Provide the searing atmosphere, throw a few shallow but well-meaning compliments, mutter to myself, maybe break a bottle or two.”

“Please don’t break a bottle,” Wren wrings his hands. “We’ve had three people cut themselves already.”

“Whoa, what’s that on your chest, prez?” I blurt. A little golden star pin that has the number one on it is tacked to his shirt. His glasses slide off as he looks at it, and he pushes them up.

“Um.
Just something Sophia gave me. From when…from when –”

“Is that the math rally pin?” Jack interrupts. “Wow. I didn’t know she still had it.”

“Neither did I,” Wren lets out a half-laugh. “I mean, I thought she got rid of it a long time ago.”

“Math rally pin?” I ask. Jack nods.

“Back in the day, Wren and Sophia competed in this math rally. They were really into it, invested like only competitive smart kids can get. They studied for weeks, months. Sophia wanted to win so badly. But Wren did. They tied, technically, but the judges gave it to Wren for some extra calculation he did.”

“Sophia was furious at me,” Wren says. “She wouldn’t talk to me for a whole month. So I gave her the pin, and she started crying, and said to not be so nice to her.”

Jack laughs, low, and Wren shakes his head, a wistful smile on his face. It’s a history I’m not a part of, but it gives me a warm feeling just to see them remember that time when they were all friends, and close, and cared for each other, without the darkness between them.   

“Look, I’m gonna go get a mood-fluid. Thirst burst. Flavor savor.”

Wren and Jack raise their eyebrows in sync, and I laugh.

“A drink.
I’ll be back.”

I recognize a lot of people – not just Avery’s group is here. She’s invited the not-populars; Wren’s student government friends, the band kids, the hipsters, even Knife-kid. And I know he didn’t just sneak in this time like he usually does, because I see Avery nod at him as she passes, instead of curling her lip.

“Being civil? Color me surprised,” I say. Avery looks me over. Her hair is straight and glossy again, her skin perfect and makeup on-point. She looks much, much better than usual.

“Sophia wanted me to be nice. And I figured, hell, I can do it once in my life. It might kill me, but I’ll do it for the sake of getting to say I did. I was nice.” She ponders this, and sighs. “Should’ve put that on my college resume. They love nice people.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Most people like nice people. Good thing I’m not most people.”

“You’ve never liked me,” she sneers. “And I’ve never liked you.”

“True. But we’re willing to put up with each other. That counts for something, right?”

She stares at me, green eyes flaring. And it’s then I notice she’s been crying. She’s applied makeup over it, but I can barely see red puffiness under her eyes, and her nose is swollen.

“Have you seen Sophia?” I ask.

“I was just talking with her upstairs. She’s been bugging me to tell you to come find her when you get here, so, go talk to her. Quick. Before she explodes.”

“That happy, is she?”

For once, Avery smiles. It isn’t a sneer, or a sour grimace, or a catty, petty grin. It is exactly a smile, no more and no less. It is a younger Avery that shines through in that smile – a lighter Avery. A more innocent Avery. She nods.

“Yeah.
She’s happy. She’s really, really happy.”

I pat her on the shoulder, and walk upstairs to the third level. It’s quieter up here, but less like a soundproof room and more like the top level of a jungle infested by monkeys in heat. Correction; monkeys in heat with access to Lil Wayne. The noise dulls, and I wander around aimlessly, but with a very specific aim. I spot a wisp of platinum blonde hair at the end of the hall, where French doors open to a mini balcony. Sophia’s leaning on the banister of it, watching the stars, a drink in one hand. She’s in a beautiful, lacy white dress with a short skirt and no sleeves, and she looks stunning, like a dove about to take flight.

She hears me coming, and turns.

“Hey! It’s about time you came. No drink?”

“You were a little higher on my priorities list. Which is weird because no one comes before booze. Except Johnny Depp. But even he has to take a number and wait in line a little.”

She smiles, and I lean on the balcony with her. Someone streaks by below, completely naked and yelling about the ‘king of alien invaders’.

“It’s a good party. People are having fun, losing their pants –”

“- Possibly their minds,” Sophia interrupts.

“ –
and most definitely their minds. I take it back. It’s a perfect party.”

She giggles, and drinks out of her cup. It’s something blue and frothy, and she sticks out her stained tongue and waggles it at me.

“Gross!” I push her playfully. “You really are sick!”

“I’m contagious!” She insists. “That was my plan all along, hold a massive birthday party, infect you all, and start the zombie apocalypse.”

“’Bout damn time.
I’ve been waiting for that thing for years.”

There’s a comfortable silence. I look over, and notice then her wrist is decorated with Tallie’s bracelet. It’s just barely big enough, and her wrist is just that thin and tiny. The silver glints in the moonlight. It’s breathtaking.

“I wanted to thank you,” Sophia says. “Properly.”

“For what?
Making your life hell?”

“For trying.”

The wind plays with her hair, and she tucks it behind her ear and smiles at me.

“Not many people try. Once they see the real me, the one who’s suspicious and bitter and angry and hopeless, they leave, or give up. But you stayed. So I wanted to thank you for that.”

“Wasn’t…wasn’t a big deal. I just…I was just sort of pig-headed around you. I didn’t really do anything.”

“You tried to help,” She insists, grabbing my hand. Tallie’s bracelet is cool on my skin, and her palm is surprisingly cool as well. “You tried to help, and for that I can never thank you enough.”

We stand there like that, our hands joined, me looking at her and her looking at the sky.

“Do you know about Van Gough?” She asks suddenly.

“Cut off his own ear and painted LSD sunflowers, right?”