The After Girls Page 11

But it wasn’t alright. It wasn’t alright at all. Astrid was gone, and her mother, her very own mother, was actually sitting here criticizing her. “Excuse me,” Ella said, pushing her chair back. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  She could feel everyone’s eyes locked on her as she walked through the kitchen and ducked, out of sight, into the hall. She just needed to be alone. Just for a few minutes.

  I miss you, too. The words flashed into her head, unnerving her.

  She walked as steadily as she could, and her heart sped when she reached Astrid’s door. It was shut tight. Do Not Enter. There’s Nothing For You Here. She took a deep breath and kept going. Jake had told her that the door always stayed shut.

  Ella closed the bathroom door behind her. She leaned down to the sink and splashed water on her face. Her head felt like it was spinning, and she hadn’t had a drop to drink. Her stomach felt heavy, even though she’d eaten nothing. As she dried her face off, she saw it: a trickle of blood on her thumb around the cuticle. She must have been picking at it all day. It was an anxious tic of hers. One that she’d kicked a few years ago. One that apparently was back.

  Ella opened the medicine cabinet in search of a Band-Aid. There was a stack of them there, and she opened one, wrapped it around her thumb. She should have shut it back right away, but she didn’t.

  There were bottles, tons of them. Some of them were empty. Some of them were full. Clear orange ones, white labels. Big words.

  Just like the one she’d seen in the cabin.

  Most of the words didn’t mean anything to her. They were medicine words: Mirtazapine. Fluoxetine.

  But one jumped out at her. Klonopin.

  She recognized the harshness of the big K in the front. Even the way its name sounded was off — wrong.

  She grabbed the bottle, and it rattled in her hand. The name GRACE ALLEN was printed in tiny, neat letters on top.

  Strangely enough, she had never questioned how Astrid got those pills. There were too many whys to focus on how.

  But now she knew it clear as day. She had gotten them from her mother.

  She forced the bottle back onto its place on the shelf. She didn’t want to touch it anymore. But she stared at the orange containers.

  Had these really always been here? Surely she’d opened this cabinet before. Had she never been looking? Had she never been aware?

  How much had Astrid tried to tell her that she’d refused to listen to?

  Ella slammed the cabinet shut and dried off the rest of the water on her face.

  She stumbled out of the bathroom, and she found herself standing in front of Astrid’s door.

  I miss you, too.

  What if she were trying to tell her something now? What if Astrid wanted her to go inside?

  Ella’s heart beat faster and the hairs on her arms raised — goose pimples — she turned the knob slowly and opened the door, wincing at its quiet moan, and took the first step.

  The space was largely unchanged. The bed was unmade, as if Astrid had just slept in it. Her graduation gown was draped across a chair. The cap lay at its feet, the tassel splayed out as if to say, “Yes, she threw me. She really did.”

  There were other clothes on the floor. Floral sundresses. Long hippie skirts. A “going-out top,” a black sparkly halter that Astrid only wore to parties. One that Ella had even borrowed once herself, one of the few times she’d drunk liquor. She’d thrown up before ten and had spent the rest of the night crying about how she’d ruined Astrid’s sparkle shirt.

  Every piece had a story, a memory. Little reminders of good times and bad, but mostly good, so good that it broke Ella’s heart that there wasn’t a body — a living body — to fill these anymore.

  Ella walked closer to the bed. The night stand was littered with a bowl that Ella had given her once and a movie ticket to this horrible action flick that they’d seen in 3-D. A used water glass sat next to it, printed ever-so-lightly with lip gloss. God, had that been there all this time, just sitting there?

  And the bed. The bed was maybe the worst. It looked like it hadn’t ever been touched again since that most horrible of days. It lay open, undone, as if Astrid had just hopped out. Just dashed out into the world. Out into the last bit of sunshine she’d ever see.

  Ella’s eyes stopped at the pillow. It sat there, depressed, as if saving a space for Astrid’s head — should it really still be that way, now? — and Ella couldn’t help herself. She closed her eyes and leaned down. She buried her face in the pillow, and she breathed in deep. She wanted to smell her friend, the scent of her coconut shampoo, the cheap stuff that came in the 99-cent bottle, and it was there, smelling all sweet and tropical like summer vacation, like Astrid, and the pillow was warm, and the fragrance so strong, like her friend had just been there, only moments ago …

  Ella whipped her head up. She jumped back. Why oh why, why on earth was the smell so strong? Why did it all feel so real, so … here? Why had she gotten a call from her friend, just today? What did it all mean?

  Her head felt light, just like it had at the café. The room was starting to spin.

  She didn’t know what to think, what to ask, what to believe.

  But then she turned her head, and on top of the dresser was Astrid’s journal, her pride and joy, her beloved, just begging to be read.

  But she forgot it in an instant because, there, right next to it, flipped open like she’d just set it down, was Astrid’s phone.

  Ella picked it up, her hands shaking. The screen was dark — blank. She pushed the power button, trying to turn it on. Nothing. It was dead, as it should be, without Astrid to use it.

  Totally, irrefutably dead.

  That was when she heard footsteps, noise. The banging of the phone falling onto the dresser. The opening of the door.

  “What are you doing?” Grace screamed, rushing towards her. She’d never seen Grace like this. Never seen such anger. Never seen her eyes, her eyes so wild and manic and terrifying, absolutely terrifying.

  Ella stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry — ” she started.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I was just — ”

  “Get out,” Grace screamed. “Get out of here.”

  And that’s when the tears came.

  “Get out,” Grace screamed again, and Ella started running, without looking back. She couldn’t face Jake and Claire, so she ran out the front door, shutting it tight behind her.

  But in an instant, Ella heard the door open again, footsteps following her down the drive. She was out of breath and she knew that her face was wet, covered in tears, and she almost wanted to turn, to face Grace. To scream right back. To tell her that she wasn’t doing anything wrong. That she’d just wanted to see her room.

  That she just missed her friend.

  “Wait.”

  Jake. Ella whipped around.

  “What?” she asked, and her tears were streaming down now. He was pushing something in front of her, but her vision was blurred and fuzzy. Wet. It was red and round. Her bag. It was her bag.

  And she stared at him through blurry eyes, because she realized that he was shoving her out, too. He was just like Grace.

  “Thanks,” she said, the tears catching in her throat so she sounded wild, deranged. “I’ll get out of your life. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” he said. “No. I didn’t mean … What happened? I heard yelling, and then I saw you running out, and — ”

  “I’ll leave,” she said. “I’m going. Tell Grace thanks for dinner.”

  But she decided not to take the road. Instead, she turned and ran across the grass and towards the woods. If she couldn’t find her friend here, maybe she could find her friend in there. Deep in those woods where she’d left them.

  The rain was coming down now, and the sun was nearly set. It would be hard to see in the thick woods, so she pulled out the flashlight connected to her keys and clicked it on.

  She stepped into the woods and onto t
he path that led to the cabin. The trees, the leaves, the twigs, and a cacophony of owls and insects, pushed at her from all sides. Her hair was wet.

  Ella’s toe caught on a rock, and she fell, her knees sinking deep into the mud, but she didn’t care. She pulled herself up and kept going. Tall trees surrounded her, lush in the beginning of summer. She followed the muddy path, spattered with branches and rocks and crawling roots that formed a makeshift stairway. She stepped up carefully, slowly now. She didn’t want to fall again.

  Finally, she pushed through the trees until she felt the familiar scratches on her arm and the tiny thorns and burrs on her ankles. Almost there.

  In the dream, Astrid had asked her to help, but if she could have, she would. Wouldn’t she?

  The door was shut, and the caution tape was gone.

  Ella ignored the wind and rain and pulled the door open, stepping inside.

  She didn’t know what she wanted, to look at the pictures, to read through the books, to sit here and cry?

  But whatever she wanted, it wasn’t here. Ella shone her flashlight around the room and nothing but bare walls met her. She stepped forward and she felt something crumple beneath her. And then she looked down, and there on the ground, a million of Astrid’s faces staring up at her.

  She screamed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Max arrived just as the sun was setting.

  Sydney had told him to come over after all. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but she’d at least chosen her house as the meeting point. That way nothing that shouldn’t happen could happen. At least not for a few hours.

  She was busy painting her nails when he showed up on her porch. He was a backdoor kind of guy. He never rang the doorbell. Yet another reason why her mom, et. al., had never liked him that much.

  “Hey,” he said, and he looked down at her fingers. “Black. I like.”

  His hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. It was just a little greasy, messed up. He was one of those guys who could go days without showering and only get hotter.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He sank down next to her so the porch swing rocked and rattled. He didn’t leave her any space — their arms were touching — but she didn’t move either.

  “You want a smoke?” he asked, pulling out his pack of Parliaments.

  “Gross,” she said, even though she knew that she might say otherwise if she were drunk. “And you can’t, either.”

  “Oh, come on,” he said, looking back through the window and into the living room. He gave George a half-assed wave. “We’re outside.”

  “Not until they go upstairs at least.”

  “That won’t be for hours,” Max said, shoving the pack back into his pocket.

  “Well, you’ll just have to settle for the pleasure of my company,” she said, shooting him a mock-smile.

  “Fine.” He pulled his iPad out of his bag. Max always had the newest everything. It was his parents’ restitution for never really being around. He clicked onto YouTube and started looking for stupid videos.

  They were so close that she could feel him breathe as he watched an SNL skit and she finished off her nails. When she was with him, she didn’t have to talk about Astrid — she didn’t really have to think about Astrid. Things were so easy and comfortable.

  But she knew that it couldn’t work out. He wanted everything from her and nothing all at once. He’d want it all from some other girl once he got a few swigs of Jack in him.

  Sydney looked over, and his eyes were glued to the screen, and she wondered what it was about her that wasn’t enough to keep him. She wondered what it was that he was looking for in everyone else.

  She blew on her nails to help them dry.

  They sat like that, rocking slowly, half-watching the videos, with few words between them. The sun fully set and the crickets began to hum, and for awhile, she almost felt some kind of twisted, messed-up peace …

  Then she heard the thudding of footsteps, running footsteps, and in a second there was Ella, banging on the door of the screen porch, covered head-to-toe in mud. She looked like a nightmare.

  Sydney got up and pushed the screen door open. “My God, what happened to you?”

  Even Max managed to look up from his iPad: “Jesus, are you okay?”

  In her state Ella didn’t even seem to care that Max was there. Her words came in gasps … “I’m sorry … I saw a light on … I ran here … she talked to me … she tried to call me …”

  Sydney pulled her friend onto the porch. She looked back — luckily, her mom and George weren’t in the living room. They were probably putting Darcy to bed. “Come here,” she said, sitting Ella down on the swing. “Calm down,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I can’t,” Ella said, getting hysterical again. “I can’t. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Well, something had to have happened to make you lose it,” Max said, and Ella just burst into sobs.

  “You know, you’re not helping,” Sydney said, turning to Max.

  Max flipped his iPad shut and stood up. “Fine,” he said. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He expected her to stop him. To tell him he was wanted, and that what he’d said was no big deal, to coddle him, to plead with him to stay. But she didn’t have time for that right now.

  “Good,” she said. “Just go.”

  He looked at her like she’d totally lost it. But when she didn’t say anything else, he finally got up and stomped off, slamming the screen door behind him. He was such a dick. Such a self-involved cocky heartless dick. Sydney waited until she couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore to speak.

  She sat down next to Ella and put a hand on her shoulder — one of the few areas not caked with mud. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s gone now. Now tell me what happened. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Her friend’s words came out like vomit, in heaving spurts. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she started. “Something bad is happening. None of it makes sense. She talked to me. And her mom screamed at me. And — and the cabin. The cabin, it’s destroyed. I don’t know what happened, but it’s destroyed.” Ella’s chest heaved up and down as she spoke.

  “Whoa,” Sydney said, rubbing her friend’s shoulder. “You mean the photos in the cabin?”

  Ella nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Sydney put her hand on Ella’s cheek, turning her head to hers. “Ella,” she said, but Ella was still sobbing. “Ella.”

  “Yeah?” she said.

  “That was me. I took the photos down.”

  Ella narrowed her eyes. She looked at Sydney like she didn’t know her. Like she’d been betrayed.

  “Don’t worry,” Sydney said again. “It was just me.”

  Ella just shook her head. “But, but, but why?” she asked, her words still shaky, but a hint of anger in them now. “Why would you do that? It was our place.”

  Sydney took a deep breath. This was certainly not how she’d wanted it to go down. She didn’t know why in God’s name Ella had gone there tonight anyway. She’d planned on getting the photos tomorrow, going over to Ella’s, dividing them up, putting them in a book, whatever. It was supposed to be cathartic. So much for that.

  “I know,” Sydney said. “I know, but I just thought that after all that happened, it would be better for us to, you know, find a different place.”

  “A different place?” Ella asked, sobs overtaking her again. “A different place? What’s wrong with you? How can you even say that?”

  “Ella,” Sydney said. “She died there. How can you want to constantly go back?”

  “I know she died there,” Ella snapped. “I was the one who found her. Remember?”

  There was the punch of guilt again, right in her stomach. “I’m sorry,” Sydney said, throwing up her hands. “There’s nothing I can do to make that different,” she said, and her voice was shaking now, too. “Don’t you think I feel bad enough already?”

  “Well you
could try not destroying it,” Ella said. “They were all scattered across the floor like a hurricane had hit. I walked in there and it was so dark, and I had my flashlight, and she was there … all those pictures of her just staring up at me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sydney said. “I was going to get them tomorrow. It started raining halfway through and I didn’t want them to get ruined.”

  “You had no right,” Ella said. “You had no right to do that without me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sydney said again. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

  Ella just glared at her, but Sydney wrapped her in a hug, pulling her head underneath her chin. Ella let her, and they held each other like that for awhile, and it felt like Ella’s anger was waning. She had to understand. She had to see that Sydney was only trying to make it better — for both of them.

  But then Sydney looked up, loosening her grasp on her friend. “Ella,” she said. “Why did you go there? After the dream I thought you wouldn’t want to go back.”

  Ella’s breathing started to quicken again, but Sydney had her hand back on her shoulder in an instant. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can tell me.”

  Ella took a deep breath. “I went to Grace’s for dinner,” she said.

  “Whoa,” Sydney said. She hadn’t been in that house since Astrid died. She didn’t want to. The idea of it gave her the creeps. Just like the photo-filled cabin.

  “What was it like?” she asked. “Was it hard?”

  Ella stared at her a moment before answering. “She screamed at me. She threw me out of the house.”

  “Grace?”

  Ella nodded.

  “But why?”

  Ella looked away, her body shaking again. “Because I went into her room.”

  “A’s?”

  Ella didn’t answer, she just cried harder.

  “Oh God, El, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

  “And I just wanted to see her, you know, I just wanted to be somewhere where she was, and so I went into the cabin, and then — and then — ”

  “I know,” Sydney said. “I can see why that would have freaked you out. I’m an idiot for — ”

  But Ella looked up then, put her hand in front of Sydney’s mouth, and she shook her head fast and strong.