Page 79 of The Seekers of Deer Creek

“Bee?” Calla tried.

Vivi pretended to be asleep. After a moment, Calla turned, and they rested inches apart, feet touching like a pair of twinned embryos.

Chapter 26

The following afternoon,Khánhand Canadian Evan married in a tall-towered cathedral at the center of town. They were earnest in their vows; hands shaking, eyes lowered. Their families gathered in a tight circle around them, as if to say:For them, you’ll have to fight your way through us. It wasn’t just a ritual for witnesses, but one for protection, as if the might of community could forestall future peril. A wonderful fib we tell ourselves, but Vivi found herself fighting the prickle of tears anyway.

She snuck a look at her sister. Was Calla thinking of her own wedding at that moment? Snowflakes strung from glass ceilings, monogrammed napkins, sheepskin rugs. If she did, she never said it. She only beamed.

“Those two will make it,” she said.

Calla took Vivi’s arm as they strolled to the banquet hall where the reception would be held. The heat was particularly sharp that day and Vivi fidgeted against the fabric of her borrowedáo dài. She tried to loosen the mandarin collar, but her fingers were slick with sweat. Calla reached over and did it for her.

“I like this color on you,” she said.

Marigold, like the eyes ofLý’s creatures. Calla wore cornflower blue. All morning, Vivi had been uncomfortable in her own skin. She woke with a rasp in her throat, a migraine drumming into her temples. She dry-heaved into the toilet, trying to mask the sounds by repeatedly flushing.Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk the tap water at the hotel in Ho Chi Minh City. She’d forgotten that she did not possess her sister’s iron stomach. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw a wan copy of the reflection that usually greeted her. Calla, maddeningly, remained fresh as ever.Vi?tNam agreed with her.

Vivi’s attention turned to her antler ring, which had been cutting off her circulation as her fingers swelled in the heat. She struggled to pull it past her knuckle, then tried to slip it into her purse without drawing Calla’s notice, but Calla caught the glint of silver.

“That ring doesn’t even fit you anymore,” Calla said. She wrenched it from Vivi’s hand and threw it into the dirt. “Just give it up already.”

“What the hell.” Vivi retrieved the ring and put it in her pocket. “It’s Mom’s. It’s ours.”

“I should never have taken it from you.”

“We agreed to share it.”

Calla ignored her sister. “Not that you put up a fight. If I’d asked you for the skin off your back, you would have given it to me. You were born with such guilt. Apologizing for yourself. Wanting to be sogood. Who did that to you?”

Something in her sister’s words hit at the quick. “I don’t want to be therapized right now.”

“You’ve always been afraid to stay. Afraid to leave. Indecisive whenever it came to your own needs.”

“Why are you picking a fight, Calla?”

The air was too thick. The scent of fried food, oily and pungent in the swelter, made Vivi nauseous. Calla’s expression turned guilty.

“I read the draft of the email you wrote to Samuel last night.”

“You went into my email?”

“Your passwords have been the same for the past twenty years. Cybersecurity experts would have a field day with you. I read it because you’ve been so—sad lately, so unsure of yourself. I wanted to know why you were walking away from him.”

“Because you showed up with a goddamn letter and sketch from Dad’s shed! Becauseyouasked me to follow you on this wild chase!”

“No one was forcing you to choose between us.” Calla paused, a twinge of uncharacteristic nervousness skittering through her defiance. “Anyway. I, um, I sent the email.”

“You didn’t.” Vivi wanted to smack her. She wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. What had she said in that email? Too much. She saw now that she wasn’t really intending for Samuel to ever read it. Her words were too raw, bloated with confessions she’d have died to utter aloud.

“Someone had to do it. You would have sat on that email forever, until he forgot about you. I was doing you a favor.”

“That’s so fucked up. You’re so fucked up.”

“I’d rather be a fuck-up than a coward who hides from my own desires. Like one of those deer that gets spooked by their own shadow.” Calla’s voice softened. “Tell me: why did you stop painting? When we were kids?”

“Don’t change the topic.” Vivi began to walk away. “That was a terrible thing to do. A betrayal of trust.”

“That’s right, tuck tail and run.” Calla followed her. “You weregoodat art. Do you remember? You were the one who inspired me to start painting.”