Page 46 of Lucy Undying

I don’t want to be the person who answers someone’s intimate emotional offering with my own trauma, but I do want Elle to know I understand. I lean a little closer so our arms are touching. “My dad didn’t protect me from my mom, either. I’m sorry you went through that, and I’m especially sorry you weren’t allowed to grieve how you needed to. Is it too hard for you to be here, though? You don’t have to stay.”

Elle’s eyes find the building at the top of the cliff and linger there, like she’s searching for something. She doesn’t smile, but her face is open when she looks at me again. “No, this is good. It’s good for me to be back here, to face the person I was when so much changed forever. I think part of me got stuck in those moments, you know what I mean? Like I’m still there. Like I never left. But standing here in the sunlight, I can finally forgive who I was then for everything that she did, and for everything that happened to her.”

I squeeze her arm. I don’t have anything to say, but I want her to know I support her, and I’m here for her. I have that same sense I get with poetry, that someone is saying something I’ve always felt but never been able to express. I’m a little choked up.

Then a smile as sly as a cat slinks across Elle’s face. “Besides, I’m excited to see your disappointment when you figure out why Whitby is favored by the geriatric crowd. There’s nothing to do here except walk around and say, ‘Oh, this is nice,’ and talk with people about the weather. It’s windy. What else is there to talk about?”

I laugh and lean against the railing to look up at the cliffs. “It is nice, though.”

“So nice.”

“And windy.”

“So windy!” Elle laughs, brushing her hair out of her face. My own curls are an impossible tangle already.

I’m relieved that Elle seems happy, and I’m quietly thrilled that I gave her this opportunity. Maybe this trip won’t be the flirty diversion I had hoped for, but…this is better. I’m surprised to find I’d rather help Elle than spend a couple days looking for opportunities to make out with her. It’s been so long since I connected with anyone on more than a safely superficial level. It feels nice. It also feels dangerous, but I ignore the warning bells in my head.

We stroll along the oceanfront, investigating various tourist-trap shops. I finish my coffee and throw the cup away, Elle tossing hers in after. She takes my hand, hers deliciously warm against my clammy skin, and pulls me toward an art shop.

“Look!” she says, pointing excitedly at the window.

“Mm.” I put on my best museum face, where I pretend like I’m thoughtful and interested and have any idea what I’m looking at. I point to one particularly dull seascape, my gesture following the lines of the crudely painted sailboat. “You can really see the influences of the Ennui movement in the lack of any visual interest.”

Elle laughs, the chiming tones bouncing off the stone street beneath us and the brick buildings around us. I’m surrounded in the best possible way.

“My little cabbage,” she says, “I meant look at the frames. Seem familiar?”

“Oh! Yes. They look like the frames from the house.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m sure I can sell them for a premium. That, and the very prestigious Ennui movement, of course.”

“Of course.” We grab fish and chips—just chips for poor allergy-prone Elle—and she sits on a bench to eat while I stand on the pier. I stare out past the protected harbor to the wild ocean beyond, wishing I could take a boat and disappear into the vast blue. Wondering where I’ll disappear to, when I get the chance. It all depends on how much money I make.

Elle’s already finished and waiting for me when I turn around. “You ready?” She points to the stairs leading up into the hills. “Race you!”

“Absolutely the fuck not.” I laugh as she ignores me and darts up. I’m reminded again of a cat, the same way I was when she weaved through the crowd after saving me. I could watch her move for the rest of my life and never tire of her playful grace.

Calm your tits, Iris, I think. We only have a few more days together.

I navigate the stairs much more slowly than she does, eventually catching up to her on the hill immediately below the castle thing. “What is that?” I ask, pretending I’m not out of breath, because she isn’t.

“A church and the ruins of an old abbey. We can go up there if you want?” She doesn’t seem enthused by the idea, which is a relief. I don’t want to climb any more stairs.

“Let’s find the house so we can drop our stuff.” As always, I brought everything with me in my trusty running-away backpack, and it isn’t exactly light. Elle has a much slimmer backpack on.

She glances at the map on my phone and takes off down one of the narrow lanes branching away from the stairs. “Found it!” she calls.

The house, redbrick, white boards, and red roof, is at the end of the lane on the edge of the hill. The small back garden slopes down sharply, so that when you’re standing where I am it looks like there’s nothing beyond the yard but the infinite cold ocean. It’s an absolutely killer view. I wish I could sell this house, or even move into it, because damn.

Did Lucy stand here and look out? Did it fill her heart and soul? It makes me feel closer to her, being here. Like I might open the door and hear her laughing, inviting me in for tea and gossip.

When I reach the front, though, I see they’ve cut the house in half to make it a duplex. I doubt it was that way when Lucy stayed here. I unlock the door on the near side first. I’m greeted with a hint of salt cut by filtered, circulated air. The narrow entryway has stairs leading to the second floor and a hallway back to the rest of the house. The floors are tasteful tile, the walls white, all charm and character smoothed out to make it as blandly appealing as possible. There are a few kitschy items—a glass table with driftwood legs and a mirror framed with shells—but nothing of the old owners remains. Lucy’s definitely not waiting here for me.

I set the key down on the table. By design, nothing here will be easy to steal and sell. I’d expected as much, but I’m still a little disappointed. I glance over my shoulder to find Elle lingering on the doorstep, her back to me like she’s considering continuing up the hill.

“You coming in?” I ask.

“Just thinking about what the sunset will look like from up there.” She turns and steps inside, taking in the house with a single dismissive sweep. “This is dull.”

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