Page 55 of A Match Made in Hell
‘Don’t say it.’ I roll over. ‘I’ll rephrase. If I wasn’t already dead, this hangover would finish me off.’
‘You were pretty out of it.’ Harper is on her back, arms extended, index finger tracing patterns in the air. The roof of the cave is partially obscured by the tree canopy, and through the gaps in the fronds, candles blink down at us, shaped like constellations. A good imitation of the outside world, but not good enough. ‘Still, you were enjoying yourself by the end. You even found yourself a dance partner.’
I cringe.
‘Willow.’
Ugh. I crack an eyelid. ‘What?’
Her brows are raised so high I think they might leave her forehead and drift into the false twilight. I know exactly what. But talking about what she may or may not have witnessed on that dance floor would mean admitting it happened at all, which I would prefer not to do.
Sath would be Mum’s definition of a Bad Choice. The epitome of what I should be avoiding if I want to make her proud. If I could scrub last night’s events from my brain, I would.
‘I’m not judging you.’ Harper sits up and dips her toe in the bubbling brook we’re lying beside. It hisses, puffs of aqua-blue steam billowing upwards like a geyser. ‘We all have a type. I just didn’t expect yours to be someone who’s cruel and distant and threatens to –’
‘He’s not like that,’ I snap. ‘You don’t know him.’
Harper grins, like I’m a hapless mouse and she’s the cat who’s got me cornered. ‘You like him.’
‘What is this, high school?’ I prod my finger into the grass. Maybe if I prod hard enough, I can dig a hole to crawl into. ‘I have no opinion of him whatsoever. I just think underneath that persona, there’s . . . more,’ I finish lamely.
‘Yes, that sounds like someone who has no opinion.’ Harper kicks her feet, and I’m hit with a splash of warm water. ‘Look, if you say he’s different, I believe you.’
I frown. If Sasha was here, believing me would be the last thing on her mind. When Noah and I first got together she wouldn’t listen to a word I said in his favour, telling me I’d be better off single, like her. He ended up changing her opinion all on his own, once we lived together and she was able to see the sides of him I’d always seen – I caught her once smiling softly at one of the notes he left on the fridge for me, a quote from someromantic poet that, honestly, I’d never heard of, but it was the thought that counted.
Sathhas never quoted poetry at me. I’m not sure the man knows what a compliment looks like.
‘Last night was a mistake,’ I say adamantly. ‘It was the wine.’
‘Mm-hmm.’
‘Itwas,’ I repeat. She doesn’t understand the consequences of what this could mean. I refuse toletit mean what she’s implying. The venom allowed Bad Decision Willow out of her cage and now she’s safely locked away again. I could go to Sath right now and not feel a thing. Maybe. Probably.
Perhaps I should test the theory.
The fact I’m so keen to find out is not a good sign. I pull out a lump of grass, crushing it between my fingers, mulling over my options. If I can prove to myself it was the wine, perhaps this sick, guilty feeling will dissipate.
I sit up. ‘I need to go and – see something.’
‘Willow, wait.’ Harper’s hand finds mine. ‘Before you go, I wanted to ask you about . . . Sometimes you seem . . . I don’t know. Sad.’
‘Well, I am in Hell.’ The response is automatic, flippant. The lily blooming like a halo behind Harper’s head splays its petals wider, as if to askare you sure?
There was a point last night I may as well have been.
But Harper’s still holding my hand, her face a portrait of patience, like she’ll happily give up some of her eternity to sit here and wait for me to confess the truth. This isn’t like Sasha or Noah, asking if I’m okay in one breath and suggesting I get off the sofa in the next – this is someone who has all the time in the world to listen.
I bite my lip, then admit, ‘Maybe I am a little sad.’
She tilts her head, waiting for the rest. When it doesn’t come, she says, ‘You don’t have to tell me. Henry always says I’m toonosy. But I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. And I can keep a secret.’
The words want to spill out of me, like water building behind a dam, but still I hesitate. Talking about feelings isn’t something I’m used to. When you grow up getting told the way you feel is wrong you quickly learn to shut up. I wasn’t sick, just pretending. I wasn’t sad, I was overreacting. I wasn’t lonely, I was needy.
But the fact that Harper is waiting for an answer is a marked improvement on anything I’ve had before. Maybe her reaction will be an improvement too. I take a deep breath. ‘Before I died, I was . . . not in the best place. I’d just lost my mum and I kept finding myself in crowded rooms feeling totally alone, trying to keep all the broken parts together while everyone around me was solid and whole. There was a moment last night that felt exactly like that and I . . .’ I shudder. ‘I don’t want to feel like that any more.’Thatkind of isolation is more like Hell than Asphodel could ever hope to be. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being silly.’
She squeezes my fingers. ‘No, you’re not. But the good thing is you don’t have to feel like that any more. Not in Asphodel.’ She gestures around the park and elicits several waves in response. ‘With this many people, you don’t have to be alone unless you choose to be. I can introduce you to –’
‘You’ve introduced me to plenty,’ I say, all too quickly. They’ll just be names I’ll have to forget when I leave. Not wanting her to think me ungrateful, I add, ‘Besides, I have you and . . .’
