Page 306 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

“Would a spanking help?”

Her tears spilled over and she bit her lip, shaking her head again. She stared at the belt in her hand, and then dropped it like it was a snake. Like she hadn’t realized she was clutching it for dear life.

It hurt watching it fall to the ground, watching her stare at it like it was a weapon that could hurt her. She looked up at me with the same look on her face.

“I just want to wake up and have this day be over,” she said softly. “I just want to go to bed and wake up tomorrow and start over. Can we please just... start over?”

“Yes. Today, we can.”

She climbed into her bed and rolled onto her side in the fetal position. Her hands were clutched to her chest.

“Did you take your meds today?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good. I’m going to refill your tumbler, alright? In case you need it.”

“With some juice?”

“Just a little juice. For your tummy.”

“Okay.”

I returned to her room with the glass of watered-down juice. She’d flipped over to her other side, hiding her face, her hands still clenched tightly to her chest, her knees pulled up. I could see her feet moving softly against each other under the blanket.

Setting the tumbler on her bedside table, I sat on the edge of her bed.

“Are you sure you don’t want a hug or anything, little bug? I know you’re sad, and I know you’re upset.”

“Did you read it?”

I hesitated. “Yes. Before I knew what it was, or what it said... I read the first part.”

The letter from Augustus was an apology for abandoning her. He knew he would hurt her by sending her away, and he’d done it anyway, because he thought it was the right thing to do. His letter also said he knew he’d made a mistake as soon as she was gone. Within a week he had started calling her to try to get her to come home, but she hadn’t answered. His associate refused to pass on his messages.

Augustus had confessed all this, admitting she was the only thing that kept him going, and that letting her go was the biggest regret of his life.

He also explained that he knew she didn’t want the house, but that he was leaving her his whole estate because as soon as he’d gone into the nursing home, his children and ex-wife had become absolute leeches of him, attempting to visit him and coerce him into emotional relationships with the hope of having some inheritance. Instead, he’d given Alice everything he had, trusting her to do as she saw fit.

The thing about letters from dying old men, at least in my experience, was that they were for the person who was dying, not the person who was living. That letter was probably more hurtful than helpful to Alice, and in hindsight, I should have cautioned her to read it another evening.

She didn’t answer for a long time. Then she said, “Can you turn off the lights?”

I did so, and returned to my spot by her bed. She was staring up at the ceiling where I’d stuck glow-stars to the ceiling.

I barely heard her as she asked, “Am I crazy?”

“No, little bug. But what about?”

“Am I crazy for hating him?”

“Quinn? Or Woodrow?”

“Quinn. I don’t give a fuck about Woodrow.”

“Well, that should give you your answer.” I reached out and stroked her hair, slightly damp but silky from her conditioner. “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. You hate himbecauseyou love him. When you love someone, it hurts when they hurt you.”

“No,” she whispered. “You can’t love and hate someone at the same time.”

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