Page 29 of I'm Not Done with You Yet

“No, seriously,” she says, “that’s what my mom does. She walks rich people’s dogs!” And we laugh some more, because it’s either that or cry.

“Well, she walked rich people’s dogs,” Thalia says, suddenly serious. I struggle to swallow my laughter, because now Thalia looks like she’s about to cry. “She can’t really walk anymore. She got sick. Bone cancer. And she doesn’t have health care, so we’re pretty much fucked. And I kind of was... hoping...”

By now, if she asked me to help her rob the HSBC on High Street, I would do it. I would do anything for this girl.

“Well, I was kind of hoping that Ani would help out.” She grimaces and gnaws on her lower lip. “Oh god, that sounded horrible, didn’t it? I just heard myself say those words, and my god, I sound like such a shit—”

“You don’t,” I say quickly. Because of course Ani should help out. Ani the billionaire heiress who’s only here to fuck around,Ani who makes us follow her to Harrods and watch as she drops fifty grand on a mink shawl at Ferragamo, a shawl that I have since seen her drop on a sticky dance floor as she sways drunkenly in a nightclub. “Dammit!” she’d screamed, then tossed the shawl aside, forgotten. She’d staggered back to the dorms sans shawl. I think of how my mom would save her used tea bags, cut them and dry the soggy leaves before boiling them again so she didn’t have to spend ninety-six cents on a new box of shitty tea. Ani is the right kind of Asian. The Crazy Rich kind. The kind that everyone loves. The kind I would kill to be. The kind that’s meant to save Thalia. “I mean, it’s literally nothing to her. And it would be saving your mom’s life. She’d want to do that; I’m sure she would.”

“I can’t just ask her outright,” Thalia says. “She’d think I was just being friends with her for her money. She’s been telling me how growing up, she was always surrounded by these fake friends who were only with her because they expected something—money, fame, whatever.”

I resist telling Thalia that Ani has nobody else because she is so intensely unlikable; that her money and status are the only things she has to offer. “This is different though; it’s your mom.” And your mom isn’t like my mom. Your mom is worth saving.

“I’ve been hinting to her. The past few weeks. That’s why I’ve been spending so much time with her. God,” she sighs, her face scrunching up with shame. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all this on you, Jane. I know I sound horrible, but I’ve been getting desperate. Ani’s not really taking any of my hints...”

“Of course she isn’t,” I mutter. “Ani’s too self-centered.”

Thalia gives me a sad smile. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, this isn’t your or Ani’s problem. It’s just—well. This will probably be my first and last term here.”

A wave of sickness washes over me. “What?”

“My aunt called me yesterday. We’re in massive debt and she’s right, I shouldn’t be wasting money by attending such a fancy master’s program. I’ve been such a selfish idiot, god.” She rubs her face with her hands. “I’ll probably go back once the term ends and get a job. Pay the—”

“You can’t!” The words rip themselves from deep in my belly, burning as they wrench out of my mouth.

Thalia stares at me, wide-eyed.

“I—no. You can’t just leave.” My face is made of flames. Somehow, I manage to stop myself from grabbing her. From shaking her, or squeezing her, or doing something, anything, that would stop her from getting away from me. I imagine Thalia as a little bird; I would catch her and put her in a gilded cage, keep her safe from everything. I look around my room, desperately trying to find something—some way, of keeping her here. She’s saying something, but I can’t hear the words, the blood is roaring in my ears, and I have to keep her here, I can’t lose her. I grab hold of something—anything—and it turns out to be the snow globe I’d bought at the Covered Market. I see myself swinging it, the snow swirling inside the globe, catching the light as I bring it down in a wide arc onto her lovely skull—

The idea strikes me just in time, hurtling out of me like a maddened horse. “Ivan!”

Thalia’s still staring, and now I see that her startled gaze is on the snow globe in my hand. The walls of my room collapse onto me. “Uh. This is—I like to hold it when I need to think.” I move it from one hand to another casually. Or what I estimate to be “casually,” at least. It feels incriminating in my hands. I’m lobbing a live grenade to and fro, and I can’t tell if Thalia’sbuying it, or if she just saw a glimpse of the madness that skulks inside me.

She recovers her smile. “I do that, too, when I’m stressed. I like to have something for my hands to do. Anyway, what about Ivan?”

Right. Yes. “Well, he’s rich, right? ’Cause he’s Ani’s brother.” Stating the obvious.Get to the point, Jane.“And he seems nice... ish? I don’t know, he seems okay. And he...” God, the words refuse to come out now, lodging in my throat, digging sharp little claws in and clinging tight. I cough them out. “I think he likes you.”

I didn’t think Thalia’s eyes could get any wider, but they do, and it’s almost too much. I can’t keep looking at that face of hers, as trusting as a child, because otherwise I’ll cave and tell her to forget it. But I don’t want to lose her, I can’t imagine going through the rest of the program without Thalia here, and if it means she has to belong to someone else, then so be it.

“He definitely likes you,” I continue. “The way he looked at you...” My skin feels slimy and I want to rip it off. “You could ask him.”

Thalia shakes her head. “Oh god, I couldn’t. I can’t ask some guy I just met—”

“You like him too.” I wonder if that sounded as petulant as it did in my head. If it gave my own feelings away.

But Thalia doesn’t seem to notice. Her cheeks turn rosy, from peaches and cream to strawberries and cream, and god, she is made to be devoured. “Was it that obvious?”

I shrug. It’s obvious if you’re watching for it. If you’re ultrasensitive to it because you’re obsessed with the person in front of you.

“I feel terrible. Especially since Antoine—”

I can’t help snorting out loud. Antoine. Who cares about fucking Antoine? “He’ll live. He’s a big boy. And this is more important. Look, if it makes you feel better, you could even ask Ivan for a loan or something.”

Am I solving it? Am I actually taking a huge problem from Thalia’s life and offering up an actual solution?

“I think I need to get to know him better first. I just don’t feel comfortable asking him for help like that.” She twirls a lock of hair, and I’m distracted, for a moment, by the way it catches the light and turns almost translucent. Everything about this girl is ethereal.

“Of course you don’t. Because you’re a decent person.” You’re the best person. “How about this: this weekend, when we spend time with Ivan and Ani, I’ll distract Ani so you can have some private time with Ivan? You’ll have plenty of time to chat—” My insides are shriveling up as I say this, twisting and shrieking and dying. “—and hopefully get close enough to him to ask for help.”

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