I asked Heather, “Who’s Chloe?”
“I’ve never heard of her, but I can ask Jesse if you want,” she offered.
“No. Let me try Michael first. I think I need to hear it from him.”
In English class, Michael sneaked in a few minutes late. We were still reading Hamlet, and Mr. Bidwell called on me to read Ophelia’s lines in Act III Scene II. In the scene, Ophelia was upset over the way Hamlet had been treating her. I could relate. After all, who was this Chloe, and why did Michael walk away after her name was mentioned? Jesse was reading Hamlet. Ophelia’s lines were short, but I read them right at Michael, hoping for a reaction of some sort. I got none.
After class, Michael caught up with me. “I’m on duty after school today,” he said, “but I can drive you home.”
“Who’s Chloe?”
He scanned the crowded halls to see if anyone was listening and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Dave and Kevin’s older sister.”
“You know what I mean! Why did the conversation— How much older?”
“She’s in her third year of college now, I think.”
Third year of college—that meant she was Bill’s age. Michael had dated older women. I could never compete with that. “Were you seeing her?”
Grabbing my arm, he guided me into the nearest empty room, the chemistry lab. All the tables were clear, and someone had lined beakers and bottles in neat rows along the shelves. He closed the door before he spoke. “I haven’t seen her since before the accident.”
“Were you…?”
“I was drunk. We both were.”
“And?”
He leaned against the desk at the front of the room, his hands gripping the wooden desktop so tightly that the veins popped at his wrists. Tilting his chin, Michael looked up at me, and I knew without a doubt that something had happened between them.
My stomach lurched, and the chemical smell in the air hit the back of my throat like I was going to be sick. I leaned against one of the tables to steady myself.
“I was much different then,” he said. “She was a friend… It was before everything.”
“How could it be before everything?”
“You know what I mean. Mia, please…” He reached for my hand, but stopped. I wished he hadn’t.
“Look. I know we have this ancient history and all, but—”
“Nine thousand years,” he said plainly.
If he planned to distract me, it worked. My mind reeled with the thought. “Is that how long—?”
“Do you really think that one night at a party could compare to that? I was very drunk… We both were. I hardly remember it.” He looked maddeningly far away. Was he thinking about her?
Hot, furious tears filled my eyes. I wiped them away with my sleeve, aching to be close to him and knowing my words and actions were pushing him away. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help but think about her and how she would know him, be close to him, in a way I never could.
“I wasn’t the same person then.” He leaned closer to me and the presence of his halo, warm and tingly, soothed my skin—even through my clothes.
“No,” I said, shaking the feeling off. “From what you tell me, you were exactly the same person; it was just your spirit that was different.”
“A person is both,” he said firmly. His halo still hovered around me, even though I refused the sensation. I wanted to feel cold. Alone. He sighed. “I told you, Mia. My sin was lust. If you think this is bad—”
“You just said you were a different person then.”
Slouching, he shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed to the side of the room, moving even farther away. “Please, you’re making too much out of it. This, this was nothing compared to—”
“How can you even say that to me?” I cut him off, more loudly than I expected. I was going too far but couldn’t stop myself. “Are you really that unfeeling?”
His halo flickered and dimmed. The effect made the glass bottles on the shelves behind him appear to shake. What I’d said had hurt. He ran his hands down his face and drew in a deep breath.
“I can’t argue with you about this,” he said and walked out of the room.
My insides jumped and stung like I’d swallowed a hornet’s nest. I stood in the classroom and cried. Outside, the rain had stopped but the sky was covered in a blanket of clouds, and though I was indoors, wind rushing through the trees chilled right through my bones. It seemed to take forever for the halls to empty so nobody would see me leave.
Since Labor Day, I’d been avoiding the park. But now the hellhounds had been caught. The muddy trails were slick and covered in wet leaves, so I had to watch my step. Above me hung a thick canopy of evergreens that made it seem more evening than afternoon.
Our argument played over and over in my head. No matter how I looked at it, I’d overreacted. It happened before he even met me, and yet I was insanely jealous of this girl I’d never met, all because she knew him in a way that I never could. It had nothing to do with us. It was his past. But so much of us was the past, too. I’d clung to what little I knew of it, hoping that if he felt something for me back then, he might feel something for me now.
But it was too late. I’d hurt him. I may have even lost him—as a friend, or whatever we were to each other.
In the middle of the park, one of the trails veered off toward an empty playground. Swings blew sideways in the wind, their chains rasping like metallic ghosts. I sat on one and ran my heels along the wet grooves made by other people’s feet in the dirt. I didn't feel like swinging, but it was better than going home. Mom would know something was wrong and I didn’t want to talk about it, not yet.
Over the sound of creaking chains and whispering leaves, I didn’t notice anyone approach until I saw movement and light out of the corner of my eye. A mixture of emotions flooded me as Michael sat himself on the swing beside me: relief, shame, and even jealousy. His mouth was set in a straight line and a river of anger and sadness flowed off of him, both of which I was pretty sure I’d put there. He’d held my hand today. Had he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and come to tell me to get lost? Was this it? Was I going to lose him?
His voice was surprisingly gentle when he spoke. “If you can’t accept this, I don’t know how you can ever accept the past.”
“It’s different,” I said.
“It is. We’d both been drinking, but it was her choice.” He turned his swing toward mine and the metal hinges creaked. The wind caught his hair. “That night. You deserve so much better.”
Hearing him talk about it only made me feel worse. I started to cry. “It’s not that.”
“What is it, then?”
“It’s that I’ll never…” The tears choked out of me in embarrassing sobs. How could I tell him that I’d always want more? And the fact that he’d been with someone when I couldn’t be with him at all was almost unbearable for me?
And then he got it. Somehow, intuitively, he understood. Standing, he lifted me to my feet and took me in his arms. He kissed my hair, my forehead, making me shiver inside. When he whispered my ancient name, “Sajani,” his voice came out in deep, low tones like a cello, and the force of it echoed through me. “You were with me that way.”
I sobbed, heated by his arms, as a blissful thrum of energy flowed between us. His hands shook as he stroked my hair, gently rocked me until I cried myself out. When I was done, he took me by the hand and walked me home as the shock of a blood-orange sunset broke through the clouds.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning at school was soured by Heather arguing with Jesse over bringing up the subject of Chloe in the first place. Fortunately, they made up at lunch. At least things with Fiona seemed to be good. People were acting normal around her again, and she and Dean were closer than ever. She’d stopped flirting with other guys. Though I was happy for her, I was still a bit sad.