Page 56 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘I told you I didn—’
‘I let you leave, didn’t I? I mean I’m the one that let you go. I told you that if you didn’t, he’d kill you. That you’d kill him. You’d kill each other.’ She pulls out one of the chairs that rests under the island and clumsily sits down. ‘I put the application in your fucking hand, and I sat with you when you cried. I dragged you to the post office. When they said congratulations, welcome to Yale, I stole his credit card and bought you that fucking plane ticket and told you to run. I stayed up with you the night before. I put your favourite pillowcase and the fountain pen with extra ink cartridges in the side pocket. So you don’t get to come back, after seven years, and put this shit on me.’ She takes a gulp of air. ‘On Magdalen. On my Magdalen. Who do you think you are?’
She slams her hands down on the island, and the glasses drying on the counter rattle. For a moment, she looks so much like Mamma it’s freaky. Ferocious, but kind. Too much love for those who don’t deserve it.
‘I won’t watch you do the same thing Papa does,’ she whispers sadly. Her elbows sink down on the counter as if my stupidity physically weighs her down.
It feels like she has stabbed me with one of the dirty knives in the kitchen sink. I take a deep breath in, guilt piercing my body. ‘You just don’t understand, Ani—’
‘Bullshit. I fucking understand everything.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t pretend I enjoyed choosing Maggie’s outfit like we’re at a fucking slumber party. But I don’t see how that makes me anything like him.’
I force my knees to extend and stand. My voice sounds soft, like putty. I slip one finger into my belt loop and tug until I feel the tip of my finger throb.
She straightens her posture, shifting in the chair, so it sits in front of the hallway entrance to the stairs, blocking me. ‘I know everything, Theo,’ she says again.
‘Okay. You’ve made your point.’
‘Ask me what she’s getting ready for.’
‘I don’t really give a shit, to be honest. I’m not a girl and I’m not you guys’ friend. That’s why I didn’t want to fucking do this. And now—’ I sigh, unsure of what I’m even saying. ‘And now you made me look like a dick to her.’
‘You did that way before I got here.’
‘Funny.’ I try to walk to the hallway, but she puts out her hand to stop me.
‘You don’t need to ask me, is that it? Because you already know. You obviously remember.’ Her eyes are bright, focused on me so intensely, I feel like a teen getting caught smoking. Beneath her question is another. She knows what happened. My heart sinks, dread filling my lungs, my ears, the hollow parts of my spine. How the fuck did she find out? I try to imagine Magdalen saying anything, but it’s hard to see her initiating a conversation about me almost fingering her in an alleyway.
‘Don’t do this, Anika. Please.’ Talking to Magdalen is one thing. But having to speak about Magdalen to someone else makes this feel too real... The fantasy I’d replayed alone in the shower ever since is not mine and hers alone any more.
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have given two shits.’
‘I suppose she told you, then.’ It feels like the right course of action. Denial, then blame. Gives me time to stall.
‘You know she would rather cut her arm off than talk about anything remotely sexual. Especially if it was about you. Jesus, this is so fucked up.’ She pauses, staring off at the window, but then whips her head up. ‘Did you fucking threaten her not to tell me?’
‘Can you not be so dramatic for one moment of your life? Of course I didn’t threaten her.’
‘You haven’t seen anything yet, you idiot. You know fuck-all about Magdalen. I don’t bloody care if you fucked! I’d welcome it! She’s as rigid as a board. But I would warn you, I would tell you that she doesn’t bounce back as easily from things. They stick with her. Things hurt more. But she’ll never admit it. To me, to you, not even to God. And now you’ve done something, I can’t help her, or you. And to top it off you’ve driven her to going on this fucking date.’
I mull over her words. Things hurt more. She will never admit it. What could that mean? I want to reach inside Magdalen’s brain and feel how she thinks.
‘What’s the big deal about a fucking date?’ The lie hangs in the air. Both of us stare at each other, arguing with our eyes.
Anika takes a breath. ‘You’re right. You obviously don’t care. Why don’t you just leave.’ She extends her hand to the hallway exit to usher me out, but the growing knot in my stomach pulls taut. When I don’t move, she lowers her hand.
‘What do you want me to say? I obviously don’t like this.’ My voice is whiny and tight, transparent with pain of something lost.
‘Which part don’t you like?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Everything you do matters to me.’
‘I think about her,’ I confess, my head feeling heavy. ‘I wish it was me she was getting ready for. But I wish I hadn’t—’
‘You regret it?’ Anika asks.
