Page 88 of Ex Marks the Spot
“In a word, I’m an idiot,” Hartley says with a self-deprecating eye roll. “The longer version is that I’ve watched Court’s face light up throughout the race when he talks about history and geography. I already told him he should consider becoming a full-time teacher instead of a substitute.”
Alexis glances at me. “I can definitely see you being a teacher.”
“Exactly. But I couldn’t tell him to consider switching careers and not be willing to do the same thing myself. I was only supposed to work for my dad’s company for a few months until things settled down and we could hire someone. Then I started feeling guilty about the accident and felt like it was my responsibility to stay and help. I worked through that part with my therapist, but I’d already been there a few years by that point and?—”
“Wait, back up,” I say. Hartley didn’t mention the accident when we talkedabout careers last night, just that she was tired of feeling stuck and living someone else’s life. “Why would you feel guilty if you weren’t even there?”
“They were on the way to the airport to pick me up when it happened.”
On the way to the airport.
My memory flips back to our interview with Wendell in Dallas when she said she didn’t go to Italy because she had to go home.
Notwenthome.
Had togo home.
I force a swallow as prickles of icy heat climb my neck. Surely Isaac Newton wouldn’t be this cruel, right? “Was this after you graduated?”
To my horror, she nods. “I’d already sold my car. I was going to spend a few weeks at home, then fly out to my internship.”
Fuck.
Fuck!
This whole time I thought I was doing the right thing.
But they wouldn’t have been there if she didn’t need to fly home.
And she wouldn’t have flown home if she had her car.
And she wouldn’t have sold her car if . . .
FUCK!
“Court.”
My lungs burn under the crushing weight of a reality I caused.
“Hey.”
All I ever wanted was for her to?—
“Courtland Everett Mueller.” Hartley captures my face in her hands and blasts me with an authoritative stare. How can she stand to look at me right now?
“It’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
“You didn’t?—”
“I did! I let you go so you wouldn’t be trapped in a cage with me, and then forced youandyour parents into a cage. A man isparalyzedbecause of me.”
I’m going to puke. Or pass out. Why doesn’t this room have any air? And when did the door get so far away? Maybe I can still make it. Maybe I’ll just keep going until I’m in the street where the universe can right my wrongs.
I push up from the table to go, but Hartley’s hands are right there pushing me back down.