Page 26 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
The light sparked off the water creeping higher on the sand. “I can’t. This isn’t some holiday fantasy where you look up house listings and pretend you’ll stay forever.”
“Bullshit. You can do whatever you want, and thisisn’ta holiday fantasy. You found a fucking family.”
“Well, that’s good, since I just lost one.”
“You’ll recover from Grant.”
Was it possible she was already starting to? Beatrice found that when she poked at the raw, bloody part of her heart, it felt firmer than she would have expected. Coagulating already? Or was that just fresh new anger plumping it up? “I can’t stay. I’ve got a huge pitch on Monday and, like, twelve clients this week.”
“And you really feel like honoring your father’s business reputation?”
Augh. No, she didn’t. But even in the middle of multiple bewildering betrayals, she couldn’t drop all the balls she was supposed to keep in the air. Keeping plates spinning was what she did for her clients, for Grant, and yeah, for herself, also. “It’s my reputation, too.”
“Damn it, Beatrice. What if you reallyarefucking dying?”
Beatrice shivered in the sunlight. “Not helpful. Besides, we’re all dying. I could be hit by a falling airplane wing, et cetera.”
Iris sighed. You know you can come here if you want to, right? Stay with us, and we’ll get you so fucking lawyered up, you’ll have to scrape bonus lawyers out of your ears with a Q-tip. Fuck Grant. I told you to stick with girls. Didn’t I tell you that? We can still get you back in that house if that’s what you want. He’s the cheater—he should be the one to leave. Even though you went to your dad’s house, it’s only been a couple of weeks. We can still get you back in.”
“Ihatehis house.” She picked up a thin piece of driftwood. The stick was smooth and cool in her fingers. Comforting.
“I thought you loved it.”
“I loved that it was close to you and work. I loved that Dad moved just down the street and that I could be there for Naya at the end. I loved that it was a four-minute walk to Trader Joe’s.But everything else? I’vealwayshated living in that minimalist greige box.” How had she not ever really admitted that to herself? Anger lit the backs of her eyelids red.
“Seriously?”
With the stick of driftwood, Beatrice leaned forward and drew a house in the sand. “I wish that house would burn to the ground.”
She drew a flame leaping from above the roof. It felt so strangelygoodto be drawing something, even if it was just lines in the sand. “You know Dad never let me draw?”
“Huh?”
“I remembered it today when I was talking to Minna. I used to do this thing where I’d draw words. He caught me doing it once and knocked the pencil out of my hand.”
“Okay, Mitchell is letting me down more and more, so fuck your dad, and second, what are you talking about?”
“I’m not sure I can explain it.” Beatrice dragged the stick through the sand, the top loop of aBdarting through the roof of the house. “I’d make the letters into lines thatfeltlike the letters I wanted them to be, but no one else would have been able to read the word. Looked like spaghetti. Very, very pretty spaghetti.” TheUducked down and into a window, theRcame out the back. Then she curled theNunder the porch.
“Huh. So, have you called your dad yet?”
“No.”
Iris’s voice sounded worried but she didn’t push it. “When can we pick you up at the airport? Burbank, right? You want us to bring you a big ole burrito to eat in the car?”
Beatrice added a dashed line around the image, little sparks flying away from the house. “I can’t remember when I land tomorrow. I’ll have to look it up.”
A wave bigger than its little friends flirted with her, comingcloser than any of the others had. Beatrice stood, backing up as another one encroached on her drawing. The roof was taken first, and then the rest of the house.
Sudden heat flooded through her. Anger? Grief? Whatever it was, it felt like it was ripping her heart in half. “I just don’t understand any of this. Whatifit’s all true? What if I’ll be dead soon, after five more miracles happen? What the hell have I been doing with my life? How am I supposed to figure all this out?”
“Sometimes we can’t—”
She bent forward, stabbing the stick into the now-wet sand. “Don’t you dare tell me that sometimes we can’t figure it out. We can always learn more and increase our understanding. We figure itout.”
Iris was silent.
“I can,” said Beatrice. “You know I can.”
