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The nightmares. The guilt. The despair sucking me into the abyss, drowning me.

Shit. Pull yourself together, Grey.

No. I never want to feel like that again.

She kisses me once more, a gentle, beseeching kiss, comforting me.

Don’t think about it, Grey. Think about something else.

I remember my parents’ summer ball. “Will you come with me to my father’s summer party tomorrow? It’s an annual charity thing. I said I’d go.” I hold my breath.

This is a date.

A real date.

“Of course I’ll come.” Ana’s face lights up but then falls.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” I insist.

“I have nothing to wear.”

Yes. You do. “Don’t be mad, but I still have all those clothes for you at home. I’m sure there are a couple of dresses in there.”

“Do you, now?” She purses her lips.

“I couldn’t get rid of them.”

“Why?”

Ana. I caress her hair, willing her to

her head, resigned. “You are, as ever,

and also because it’s something I might say to

“We both do.”

no room for two. You go and I’ll

practically face to face with the showerhead. However, I discover the source of her fragrant hair. Green apple shampoo. As the water trickles over me, I open the lid

Ana.

to Mrs. Jones’s shopping list. When I open my eyes, Ana is staring at me, hands on hips. To my disappointment,

shower is small,” I

told you. Were you smelling

“Maybe.” I grin.

me a towel that is designed with the spines of classic books. Ana is ever the bibliophile. I wrap

her room. It doesn’t feel lived in. Three walls are stark exposed brick, the fourth smooth concrete, but there’s nothing on them. Ana’s not had time to make this place home. She’s been too miserable

I close my eyes.

I want her happy.

Happy Ana.

I smile.

SATURDAY, JUNE 11, 2011

* * *

world at our feet and I want to give her the world. She’s entranced. I do a wingover and we’re in my glider. See the world, Ana. I want to show you the world. She laughs. Giggling. Happy. Her braids pointing to the ground when she’s upside down. Again,

Me?

No.

No.

She screams.

every hair follicle on my body. In the glow of the ambient

“Jesus, Ana.”

Gasping. Eyes wild.

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