Page 43 of Angels Fall

She sighs. “Where are you going right now?”

“Home,” I mutter.

“Do you want to come see me first?”

“No,” I say. I have never wanted anything less.

“You need to deal with those memories eventually,” she says. Her voice is still calm, but there’s a softness to it that makes me even sadder. Because she gets it. She knows. She sees through me. “And you need to figure out why you want to punish people for something they’re not responsible for. Because you’re not doing well right now, Maddie. You’re not handling things anymore. If you ever were. It’s all about to catch up with you and if you don’t stand your ground against the pain and deal—accept what happened, that there was no deeper meaning to it, and just let yourself move on…” She pauses. “Well, you’re not gonna last very long.”

I’m silent for so long she says, “Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want a prescription to cure what’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t want to take drugs,” I whisper. “It feels like… a loss. Like a failure. And I can’t fail again. I’ve had too many of those lately. I can’t take another one right now.”

“Good,” Plumeria says. “Because what you need doesn’t come from a pill.”

“Then what is it?” I ask.

“It’s very simple, really. Just forgive yourself. For not saving him. Because there was truly nothing you could’ve done. You know this. And then forgive the people who loved him as much as you did, because there was nothing they could've done either. It was just… it was just a very bad thing that happened. That’s it. It has no meaning, Maddie. It was just a very bad thing that happened.”

The station house has a bunch of guys inside. I watch them from across the street for a while. I drove straight here after running home to change and to apologize to Annie for fucking up her car. She didn’t really seem to care though. She says she’s gonna turn it in and take the loss. She quit her call-girl job and can’t afford it anyway. Honestly, she’s been acting really weird lately. But frankly, I don’t have time to give two shits about what’s going on with her. That probably makes me a bad friend, but I’ve got more than enough on my plate at present.

Looking toward the station house, I see glimpses of Evan. In there. Doing his fireman thing. I picture how Scotty would’ve looked now. All filled out and grown up like Evan. That boyish face I always picture on him long gone. And in its place is a scruffy beard. Maybe like Tyler’s. Maybe well-groomed. Maybe no beard. Maybe Scotty was always gonna be clean-shaven. Always that all-American boy, no matter how old he got. Forever young.

That’s all I ever see in my head. Scotty. Forever young. Because that’s how he died.

Well, no. That’s not how he died at all.

That memory is enough to make me start the car back up.

But then one of the guys in the firehouse whistles shrilly and I look over and all I see is Scotty.

“What the fuck?”

But then he smiles and… yeah, that’s not Scotty. It’s some kid who just reminds me of Scotty.

“What’s up, Red?” he yells.

My stomach sinks at the nickname. I suddenly feel sick. But Scotty’s ghost starts crossing the street to me, and I’m just putting the car into gear so I can take off before he gets over here, or Evan can see me, but—

“You’ve been staring at me for a while.” The kid laughs, walking up to my window.

“I wasn’t staring at you,” I snap, then immediately feel bad when he recoils a little at my venom.

Smile. And be nice.

I do that. Sorta. “I’m… I’m just looking for Evan. I’m Scotty’s sister.”

Baby-face guy scratches his non-existent beard and peers over his shoulder at the other guys. Who are just now noticing that one of their own is out here talking to me. “Who’s Scotty?”

God, this was a mistake.

I pull away from the curb and do a U-turn, ready to give up and maybe take that drive out to the desert after all, when I slam on my brakes.

Because Evan is standing in the street, right in front of my car.