Part 20 (1/2)
She shrugged.
”It was that or an investigation. I didn't want my dad to get in trouble.”
”I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
”After the trial, all I could think about was how much I hated you.”
I started to tell her I understood, but I saw her face and shut my mouth.
”Not just minor hate, understand. I wanted to . . . I spent a whole week wanting to kill you. I blamed you for everything wrong in my life. By the time I got home yesterday, I was tired of hating you. That's when I realized something . . . I felt relieved.”
”What?”
She smiled.
”That secret. It was killing me. A little bit, every day. Like my whole life was based on a fraud, and everything that came after made that fraud heavier, more impossible to escape.”
She looked at me.
”What I'm trying to say is, I forgive you.”
The strange thing was, I didn't feel better. I felt worse.
”I'm not sure I forgive myself.”
I saw that look again, the one that made me imagine her in a hospital, caring for patients. ”You were just doing your job,” she said.
I shook my head.
”Was I? Was that the way to do it? The only way to do it?”
”I was lying.”
”I know.”
I closed my eyes. ”This could take a while to figure out.”
”Well,” she said, smiling, ”your life's not over yet.”
I nodded. If it weren't for my recent burst of good sense, she might have been wrong about that. But now I saw a different path. I took a deep breath and hoped I wouldn't screw up what I was about to say.
”I brought you something.”
She looked surprised, even skeptical.
”I can't change what I did. I know that. It's just a token. To say I'm sorry.”
”Okay,” she said slowly. She waited.
”Well, it's not here.”
”What?”
”We have to go get it.”
”You're kidding, right?”
”No.”
”Where is it?”
”I can't tell you. But we have to take a train.”
”Are you crazy?”
We waited for someone to flinch. No one did.
”You're crazy,” she said.
”Know what I thought, the night we met?”
She shook her head.
”I thought you'd forgotten how to have fun.”
”Oh. I thought you were going to say I had nice eyes.”
”You seemed so sad. I wanted to fix that.”
”Why?” she asked.
I think I must've blushed. She just said Oh and looked away.
”Listen. This morning I had two hundred dollars in my bank account. Now I have twelve. I'll probably have to give blood under a couple of names to make it to the end of the semester. At least come see what I blew it on.”
”So,” she said softly, ”my choices in life are: one, go off with the guy who ruined my career, or two, stay home and think about the fact that I have no job, no friends, no money, and no plan? Does that sound right?”
I said it did.
”Big day,” she said.
I waited.
”Well,” she said finally. ”I'm curious.” She stood up and looked around the sad, half-packed room. ”And curiosity beats this.”
We rode the train for an hour and a half. Mostly she looked out the window at the towns and fields pa.s.sing by. I saw the orange blue light reflect on her face.
She spoke only once. She turned to me and said, ”If you're some psychopath who's planning on killing me, don't bother. You already did.” Then she turned back to the window.