Page 141 of How to Walk Away

Instead, I reached up to rest my fingertips on the silver bar of Ian’s necklace.Courage.

Chip didn’t notice me until after he’d sat down. For a second, as he draped an arm around the Whiner, man-spreading his legs wide and taking in the sight of the canal, I sparked a hope he might never notice me at all.

No luck.

When his gaze drifted to a stop at my face, he leaned forward and flat-out stared. “Margaret?”

At the sound of my name, the Whiner sat up and stared, too.

There she was. Chip’s new me. With a spray tan and too much eyeliner.

Tara. A girl I’d only ever seen in pictures. A girl Chip had compared me to from time to time—but only to point out my superiorities. I made better coffee. I had a better sense of humor. I had more rhythm. Here she was, in the flesh.

She looked awfully pouty.

I gave a little wave and said, “Hey!” like I was just now noticing them. “Happy wedding!”

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Chip said, and in that moment I could just tell: He did not know that I’d been left off the list.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “We all came,” I said, and then added, “Everybody.” Safety in numbers.

Chip looked around for the rest of the Jacobsens but came up short.

“I’ve lost them all now,” I said, like,No biggie.

Then he looked around for my chair but didn’t see it. “Where’s your chair?” he asked. “Do you still need it?”

If my life were a movie, the answer would have been “That old thing? I haven’t seen it in months.” It would’ve been my moment to rise from my seat like a goddess and triumph over Chip and the Whiner and every person who had ever doubted me, including myself: Stand. Triumph. Roll credits.

I had longed for an ending just like that. But that’s not the story I wound up with. And this wasn’t the ending, either.

I pointed toward a storage compartment. “It’s there.”

“So you’re still…”

“Paralyzed,” I said with a nod.

He leaned a little closer, cautiously—like I might be feral. Then he put a big, fake smile on his face, leaned in even more, and said, “How are you?”

That’s when I knew.He pitied me.

The bride was leaning forward, too, now, her arms crossed over her chest, but it wasn’t quite pity on her face.

I matched his expression. “I am super great,” I said, showing all my teeth. “How are you?”

Before Chip could respond, the Whiner jumped in, pulling his focus. “Chip!” she whined (there it was). “What the hell?”

Chip let go of his smile and got serious with me. “Why are you here, again?”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

Chip pushed out a sigh. “Because I’m trying to start fresh here.”

“That’s great,” I said. “I cheer you on.”

“Is that sarcastic?”

“No!”

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