And to my surprise, behind those words, there were cinders, still hot from where the flame had once been.
She was angry. Defiant.
She would rise from the ashes, I hoped, and find someone else.
I turned around and made my way to the airport.
I had a plane to catch.
On the way, I called Emmabelle a few more times, dropping more messages that would make any serial killer proud.
“You’re bloody crazy if you think I’m giving you up. You were mine from the moment I set my eyes on you. When you weren’t even aware of my existence. When I came to serve your sister with a draconic agreement she shouldn’t have signed.”
And then:
“The night we got in bed together for the first time, at Cillian’s cabin, was the night I first contemplated breaking my pact with myself to never marry a woman. I refuse to lose the only woman who is worth breaking my word over.”
As well as:
“Goddammit, I love you.”
As I zipped through neighborhoods, and skyscrapers, and lives that weren’t mine, I pondered something Louisa had told me before I left her.
It was true that Belle didn’t love me.
After all—she took the check.
But I loved her, and maybe that was enough.
Fifteen Years Old.
I’m kissing sixteen.
And that’s the only thing I’m kissing.
My life is blissfully, disgustingly boring.
I don’t date. I don’t socialize with anyone other than my sister, Sailor, and Ross, but I talk a big talk, and I sure as hell show the world that all is fine with Emmabelle Penrose. That I am an invincible, happy-go-lucky girl.
And sometimes, on good days, I can even believe my own bullshit for a moment or two.
Coach Locken, however, is not doing so hot.
His wife, Brenda, is pregnant again, even though little Stephen is, what, a little over one year old? That, in itself, is hardly bad news to grown-ups.
But the fact that he’s been having an affair with one of the teachers is.
Miss Parnell is my twenty-two-year-old substitute teacher—and his newest girlfriend.
The showdown at the front gate last week was legendary. Even I couldn’t help but get riled up and excited.
Brenda pulled up at the curb, little Stephen still napping in the backseat. She cornered sweet Miss Parnell, bitch-slapping her in front of the entire school. Poor Miss Parnell didn’t stand a chance. She just started crying. Her sobs became more violent, louder when Brenda screamed, “Did you know he got me knocked up again? Did you know? And did he tell you we broke up while I was pregnant with Stevie? Because that piece of shit scumbag sent me to my mom’s saying he needed to get the house exterminated and disinfected before the baby arrived. He drove down to Jersey every goddamn weekend to get some of this ass.”
Wow. Brenda wasn’t the sweet woman I saw in the engagement picture at all. All the same, it made me feel easier, lighter about what I was about to do to Coach Locken. I didn’t forgive and didn’t forget. I was just biding my time, putting more weeks and months in the calendar between us so that when the time came, I wasn’t going to be a suspect.
Now I’m walking home from school, feeling marginally better about life. For one thing, Locken got the boot after that showdown and is no longer working at my school, which is great. For another, my last two classes have been canceled, so I’m dipping early for an afternoon of breaded fried Ravioli （the frozen Trader Joe’s kind）， and Ricki Lake reruns. Or as some like to call it: heaven.
Persy isn’t due to come home for two more hours, Dad’s at work （isn’t he always?）， and Mom finally agreed to go to therapy and deal with her dark spells, so she is all the way across the city and won’t be back until evening.
I unlock the front door to our apartment, happy in the knowledge that Coach Locken is miserable, wherever he is right now in the world. I toe my sneakers off, let my backpack slip from my shoulders by the door, and pad barefoot across the living room. I’m going to deal with the ravioli in a second. First, I’m going to pee. I still hate going into the bathroom to pee. It’s like I have PTSD and expect to have a miscarriage again, even though I know I’m not pregnant. But no matter how time passes… how my life seems to look like it turned a corner… I cannot help but hate Locken for what he did to me. For what he did to my body. In my mind, this happened because of the way he took me. It was so violent, so frantic… I’m sure he caused some kind of damage.
I pass by my parents’ bedroom and notice the door is ajar. Not shocking, considering this house is always a mess and we don’t have a closed-doors or open-doors policy in place. I stroll by it when I hear a soft moan that makes me stop dead in my tracks.