“It could,” Maya said cheerfully.
The Ferris wheel lurched suddenly and the cage swung in
the wind. A rider across from them screamed again.
“Hoo,” Maya said. “Fun!” She tried to make them both
believe it.
Hannah whimpered anew. “Keep talking. What happened?
How did we get down the mountain?”
“Oh, we ended up just taking off our skis and sliding down
on our asses. It took us like an hour. Literally the same skiers kept passing us on their second and third runs, waving as they flew by.”
Hannah laughed. “Oh man, how did I forget that?”
Their eyes met briefly in sadness. So much lost to that one
night.
They were quiet again, the air still. They could see all
the way to the ocean. The reflected lights from surrounding
houses floated like tea candles on the water.
“If we die on this dumb ride before I get to see Oracle Lau-
ren…” Hannah said.
“We’re not going to die.”
The Ferris wheel turned suddenly and with it their cage
righted.
“Hey, we’re moving!”
“We are. See? Fun!” Maya said.
The rotation delivered them chair by chair to the bottom,
Hannah’s fear seeming to dissipate quickly in the descent. The ride operator unleashed them from the cage. “Sorry about
that, ladies.”
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“Ugh, we’re ‘ladies’ now,” Maya said as she climbed off
with wobbly legs. “When did that happen?”
Hannah looked at her phone. “Come on, it’s getting late.”
She started walking fast in the direction of the psychic’s tent.
“Wait,” Maya said, grabbing her arm. “I have a question.”
“Talk while we’re walking.”
“How do you know you made a wrong turn?”
“Huh?”
“That night. At the fork in the road? How do you know it
was the wrong choice?”
Hannah recoiled. “Seriously?”
“I’m not saying it was the right choice. What I mean is…
how do you know it was even a choice at all? Like, if the psychic really could predict it, then it must have been fated, right?
Otherwise, she couldn’t know.”
Hannah considered this a moment. “I guess,” she said fi-
nally. “But maybe if I’d actually done what she’d said, things would’ve been different.”
“Right. But see, that’s what I’m saying…maybe you never
would have.” Maya was feeling around in her brain for her
thoughts. “Maybe a hundred times out of a hundred you
would have done the same thing because that was the script.
If fate could be altered, it wouldn’t be fate. I’m not saying I’m right, but…” Maya didn’t know if she was saying this more
for Hannah or for herself. But it seemed important, like the
possibility of removing some quiet burden from them both.
Just that. Not a certainty but a possibility that maybe neither of them were to blame.
Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “I still want to see her.”
“I’m not trying to stop you. I’m just saying…if stuff’s going to happen where there’s literally nothing you can do to change East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 260
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it, what’s the point of knowing ahead of time? If it was bad, you’d just have longer to dread it and be miserable. And if it was good, you would be less excited when it happened because you’d already know it was coming. Either way you still
have to live your life in the meantime, right?”
“I guess,” Hannah said.
They reached the tent. It was dark and shuttered.
Hannah looked around frantically. “Where is she?”
Maya glanced at the hours listed—3:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.—
and then down at her phone. It was just after nine.
Hannah stared in disbelief. “Wait. No.” She looked at Maya
and back to the tent. “I don’t understand.” She seemed like
she was going to cry. “This doesn’t make sense. I was meant
to see her…this was the sign.”
“What sign?”
“Just… I dunno…a sign! A direction.” She was pacing now,
circling the tent as if Oracle Lauren might suddenly return.
She was definitely going to cry.
“Hannah,” Maya said.
“We have to find her.”
“Okay,” Maya said. “But I mean, I think she’s gone. I guess
we could google her. See where her next gig is…”
Hannah stopped, put her hands to her eyes, began to sob.
“It was hard enough for me just to come here.”
Maya moved to comfort her but Hannah shook her head.
“What am I supposed to do?” she said. “Why won’t life
help me? I’m trying so hard…”
“Hannah,” Maya said. “She’s just a dumb carnival shill…”
But Hannah was inconsolable. “Don’t you get it? Now I
have nothing. I’m just going to be stuck in the same place! In the same exact place of ‘What if he doesn’t wake up? But then East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 261
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what if he does?’ Every day. Every single minute of every day.
It’s consuming me. It’s swallowing my whole life. Will he be
okay? Will I be okay? My head is a constant debate. Hope, fear, hope, fear. Back and forth, up and down. And there’s no answer and there’s no door. It’s just a circular room made up of circular questions and I’m locked inside, I’m trapped! And I don’t know how to get out.” Her body sagged. “I thought
maybe life was giving me an answer…”
Maya didn’t know what to say. What could she say?
“I know she’s not real. Probably.”
“Very probably,” Maya said.
“Possibly probably.”
“Possibly probably she just a made a lucky guess that one
time.”
Hannah sighed. “I know,” she said. “I know that’s prob-
ably true.” She plopped down on the grass and wept anew. “I
was just desperate. I am desperate.”
Maya sat beside her, put an arm around her shoulder. The
world spun and twinkled and bustled around them.
“I wanted so badly to believe,” Hannah said.
“I know.”
“And instead everything went wrong. Total disaster. Just
like I always fear.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say disaster, but…”
Hannah laughed through her tears. “I tried, right? I came
all the way back.” She looked pleadingly at Maya.
“You did.”
“And I’m fine. It didn’t kill me. I guess that’s something.”
“You are fine.”
“It’s just that for once I didn’t worry if I was making the
wrong decision or that something terrible would happen. I
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was so sure it was meant to be…that my brain stopped argu-
ing itself. It was such a relief.” She wiped her eyes, her body shuddering. “Sort of like how we weren’t scared on the ski
slope because we were stoned.”
Maya nodded, trying to understand.
Hannah hugged her knees. “Ugh, life is so hard sometimes.”
“Yep,” Maya said. “Sometimes it is.”
“I don’t know…maybe…even though I didn’t get an ac-
tual answer, I did lose the questions, and that’s something. I was out of my head and in the world. For a little while anyway. It always seemed like I couldn’t really move…like in my
life…without the answer first. But I did a little. Which I guess means I can again.”
“And you’re here with me,” Maya said.
“And I’m here with you.”
Maya smiled.
“Thanks,” Hannah said, “Good talk.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, not as good as a psychic, but whatever.”
Maya laughed. Then she gave Hannah a mischievous look.
“Come on, let’s go crash Blue’s date.”
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BLUE
Blue showered until the water ran cold, then got out and
went to her bed, where she’d carefully laid out the outfit she would wear—the off-the-shoulder yellow blouse Maya had
insisted she borrow, the necklace, the white capri pants, the fancy underwear. It looked so much like hope lying there that she threw it all on as quickly as she could to escape the embarrassment of seeing her wishes laid out so barely. She went to the mirror, turned one way and then the other, trying to
be objective. She could stare and stare and stare and still not know what she looked like. Not really. The words that came
to mind were not her own. She knew that. But when she
looked in the mirror, that’s what she saw. She saw the mem-
ory of hatred, swallowed and then regurgitated by the voice
in her head. But knowing that didn’t help.
She needed a countervoice.
She went downstairs. Renee was in the kitchen, her back
turned. She had a different dress on, presumably borrowed
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from Maya based on the way it hung on her. Renee had belted
it, wore it with a stylish slouch, managed to look perfect and enviable.
She turned. “Hey.” She held up a framed photo she’d been
looking at. “Look at this.”
In it fourteen-year-old Blue and Renee were lying at op-
posite ends of the hammock, their sun-bronzed legs tangled in the middle, each of them engrossed in a book. Blue was smiling as if she sensed Nana was taking the picture, a strip of sunburn across her nose and cheeks. They both looked so happy.
“That’s exactly how I remember you,” Renee said, hand-
ing it to her.
Blue barely glanced at it. She didn’t need to see the girl she’d been blinking up at her from the photo, surprised to see the
kind of person she’d grown up to be. She put the picture on
the table, held her arms out stiffly. “Do I look okay?”
It seemed demeaning and pathetic to need Renee in this
moment. But not having input was worse. She couldn’t trust
herself to have objectivity or even know what would be ap-
propriate to wear. She had to focus on the night at hand. It
was bigger than her grudge. It was too big, in fact. Her one
shot at love.
Renee looked her over.
“Never mind,” Blue said, before Renee could answer. “I
give up.” She started back toward the stairs.
“What are you talking about? Blue, you look…amazing!”
Blue turned. “Oh, please,” she said. It was exactly what she
wanted to hear. And exactly what she couldn’t believe. Be-
sides, she still didn’t want Renee to think her opinion mat-
tered. Just because Renee was being nice didn’t fix everything.
She marched over to the fridge. Fished a wine cooler out.
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Uncapped it and gulped some down. “Disgusting.” She held
one out to Renee.
“Sounds tempting, but I’ll pass.”
Blue shrugged. “More for me.” She sat at the kitchen table.
“Let me guess—Mr. Perfect doesn’t drink.”
She saw Renee tense.
“Actually, he does.” Renee turned and began wiping down
the already clean counter. “And so do I. I just…can’t right
now.” She paused. “Because I think… I mean, I know… I’m
pregnant.”
Blue froze.
Renee turned, watched her face.
“Wow,” Blue said, averting her eyes. She took another huge
gulp, tipped the bottle in a half-hearted cheer. “Congrats.”
Renee came and sat across from her. “I started getting
morning sickness—as you saw—and I’d noticed my nipples
were browning. So I took a test last week. And well…”
There was an eager searching in Renee’s eyes. Something
she wanted.
“It’s actually why I came. Here, I mean. To see you guys.
The minute I saw that test… I just…wanted to talk to some-
one. I called my mother. That’s what you’re supposed to do,
right? It’s like an instinct. So automatic I still forget how point-less it is. I mean, she was nice about it, I guess. In her own way.
But you know. It’s like her being nice to me now is sort of
too late. It didn’t mean anything to tell her. And then I knew who it would mean something to tell. And I wished I could
call you. It made me realize how fast time is passing. Like we were just teenagers. And now I’m going to be a mom and—”
As soon as Blue met her gaze, Renee looked down as if she
realized she’d exposed something.
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Blue didn’t know what to say, what she was supposed to
do with this. Act happy? Pop some champagne? Or sparkling
cider? It shouldn’t have taken Renee twelve years and a preg-
nancy test to realize that she mattered. “Well…like I said,
congrats. I’m happy for you.”
Renee blinked. Then stood abruptly. The mask of perfec-
tion back on her face. “Yeah, thanks. I’d appreciate it if that stayed between us. At least for now. Anyway. It’s almost nine.
Should I call the cab?”
“I guess,” Blue said. She opened the second wine cooler,
then realized she needed something stronger. Why did Renee
have to put this on her right now when she was already freak-
ing out? It was too much to take in. She grabbed the bottle of vodka from the freezer and OJ from the fridge, made a screw-driver you could see through.
Renee recited their address into the phone. Blue downed
half the glass, visited the hall mirror for one last hopeless fix of her hair, smiled a practice smile into it.
Jesus Christ.
Why am I doing this?
I can’t do this.
By the time the cab announced itself with a kick of pebbles
in the driveway, she was pregnant herself—only with dread—
an inch shy of her own run to the toilet. They climbed in and Renee told the driver their destination.
“Maybe we should skip the bar and go to the fair,” Blue
said, as they turned onto Montauk Highway. The drinks hadn’t
helped. Her nervous system was like an anxious dog recog-
; nizing landmarks en route to the vet. She rolled down the
window, let the black Montauk night fly in.
“Why do we do this to ourselves?” she said. “Why do we
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bother with men?” She wasn’t really talking to Renee so much
as thinking out loud, expelling her anxiety into the air. So
many women she knew were cheated on or abused or simply
in the wrong relationship. When she was younger, she could
never understand why women stayed with men like that. But
now she could see how easy it would be to sink into an offer-
ing of love, no matter how inadequate. Just for the relief of not having to look for it anymore. Of not having to hope for love only to be disappointed over and over. But of course, Renee
wouldn’t understand. Renee had found one of the good ones
right away. The only thing that had saved Blue from the heartache of men was that she’d learned early on how to withstand
the wet weight of loneliness that sat on her chest until she almost stopped noticing it there. Only now she was noticing it.
Now it was heavy, so heavy. Now she wanted. But it was ter-
rifying—the possibility of wanting and not getting. Of open-
ing your heart only to be knifed with rejection. Such sharp
precise pain. It took her breath away to even imagine it. “I’m sure Jack’s a womanizer. Or a commit-phobe. Or can’t love.”
“Can’t love?” Renee said. “Or can’t love you? Because it
sounds like you’re preemptively rejecting him.”
Blue shrugged. “Both. Probably. No one ever stays.” The
alcohol was making her too loose. And too loose to care that
she was.
“That’s not true.”
“Seems like it.”
“People stay,” Renee said. “Some of them anyway. Some
leave and come back.”
How can you tell which from which though? How do you stop from getting too broken before you find them? For a moment Blue wished they were still friends so she could ask that.
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“I don’t know,” Renee said as if Blue had asked the question.
She leaned her head against the window, staring impassively
out at the passing world. “You just have to find a way to trust.”
“Trust who?” Blue said.
Renee shrugged. It was like they were having two differ-
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