This Is How It Ends

None of those reasons really added up. Like lots of things in this puzzle. So we decided to ask Trip point-blank. Just the three of us.

I was there at seven on the dot, like we’d agreed. Plenty of time for Trip to finish practice and get there. Sarah opened the door and ushered me into the living room, warm and brightly lit. There was a tray of drinks on the coffee table.

“Did Martha Stewart move in?” I asked.

Sarah attempted a smile. “I was trying to keep busy.” She took a shaky breath. “God, Riley, I’m nervous.”

I nodded. “Me too.” I checked my watch. 7:05. “What time was he coming?”

“Seven,” she said.

We perched uneasily on the sofas. I looked around the room, realizing the bookshelves were bare. The walls too. “Where did everything go?”

“My dad.” She shook her head. “He’s ‘decorating.’”

Silence fell again. “So . . . ,” I said after a minute. “I guess I’ll start when he comes in?”

“Okay.” Her voice was strained, and when she looked at me, I saw her eyes were filled with tears.

“Hey,” I said, moving closer, catching her hands in mine. “Listen, whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

She nodded, drawing a deep breath. “I know. I’m just so worried. And confused.”

“I’m sure if Trip had anything to do with it, there was a very good reason.”

“Then why wouldn’t he just have come forward?”

That was the part I couldn’t figure out either. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But the three of us will talk it out. And help each other.” Whatever that means, I thought.

She smiled tenderly. “Thank you, Riley,” she said. “You always know how to say the right things.”

I smiled back, still holding her hand, and impulsively gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

Just as the front door opened.

Trip, late as usual, stared at us, whatever greeting he’d started, strangled in his throat.

I jumped up. “Hey, Trip.”

He looked from me to Sarah, then back at me, glaring. “What the f**k?”

“What?” I asked innocently, my throat so tight I could barely speak.

Trip sneered. “What?” he mimicked. “I know you think I’m stupid, but do you think I’m blind, too?” He turned to Sarah. “What’s he even doing here?”

“Trip,” Sarah said, soothing. “We just wanted to talk to you. Relax. It’s nothing.”

“Really? It didn’t look like nothing. It looked like you and Riley snuggled up on the couch and him kissing you.” He looked from her to me. “Which part of that do I have wrong?”

“It’s my fault, Trip,” I said. “Sarah was upset, and I was trying to help.” I took a breath. Time to man up. “I shouldn’t have done that.” God, what had I been thinking? “I’m sorry. I way overstepped.”

“You can say that again.” Trip was staring at me with such intensity I felt like I was shriveling up, especially because I could see he knew. How I felt about Sarah. And that I’d acted on it. I didn’t know how—maybe just because he could read me so well—but he knew. He shook his head, his voice low. “That’s just so wrong, man.”

I was too ashamed to answer.

Sarah stepped hesitantly closer to him. “Trip,” she said softly. “We need to talk about Nat’s dad.”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “But I think we better talk about this first.” He waved his hands at me and Sarah. “I thought I was imagining things, being paranoid. I figured there was no way my best friend and girlfriend could be hooking up.” I’d never seen him so mad. And he had every right to be.

“Trip—” I started, but he cut me off.

“I mean, what kind of people would do that?” he shouted. “Huh?” Sarah stood there silently, tears running down her face. Trip’s jaw was clenched, his eyes blazing as he looked from her to me. I felt awful, like the smallest, most worthless piece of crap. “I guess I know the answer.”

He turned around, yanked open the door, and slammed it behind him, without looking back.

We stood there, stunned.

“Oh my God, Riley. Should we go after him?” Sarah’s face was pale, and I could see her hands shaking. “Riley?”

I had no idea. “No,” I finally answered. I mean, what could we say to make it better? He was so angry, he wouldn’t hear us anyway.

But there was a nagging worry about whether letting him stew was really the best idea.

I wish I’d had the sense to listen to it. To call him back in, tell him why we’d asked him there. Even own up to things, if that was what it took. I wish I’d told Trip whatever he needed to hear to stay.

Because after he left Sarah’s, tires squealing as he zoomed away, I never saw him again.

CHAPTER 29

MY MOM WAS STANDING IN my room when I woke up. It was dark, her thin shoulders silhouetted against the light from the hall.

“Mom?” I mumbled.

I heard a sniff, saw the shadow of her chest heave slightly. She was crying.

“Mom?” I sat up, all sleepiness gone. “What’s wrong?” I thought she was sick again, needed to go to the hospital. But then she wouldn’t have been standing here, wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed.

“It’s Trip.”

***

We drove to the hospital together, my mom still crying, me numb as if my body had turned to stone or ice. Dr. Williams had called her, knowing our families were close, or had been. A car accident. Single vehicle. On old Ohoyo Road, not too far from Natalie’s trailer.

My head was empty. Or maybe too full. But none of the stuff in there made sense. Sarah. That was all I could pick out, and then I immediately pushed it back, into the dark, deafening roar. Had she called him? Tried to explain? Had he gone back and gotten her? It wasn’t until we were there, robotically stepping off the elevator, that I knew she was safe. She stood in the garish light with Natalie, and Tannis and her brothers, their parents, a cluster of pale faces and puffy, red, unseeing eyes. Trip’s mom was huddled in a corner, his dad beside her.

I went to the girls. “What happened?”

Sarah looked at me, looked through me, her eyes unreadable, but not like they usually were. There was just nothing there. Hollow. Then she turned away.

“No one’s sure yet,” Tannis said. “It looks like he ran off the road, into a tree.”