Chapter 20 Sidney

CHAPTER 20 SIDNEY

2000

Plattsburgh

The way I saw it back then, Cass was a once-in-a-lifetime woman. I’d never been to New York before, didn’t know how big the sea of fish could get, and I was convinced it couldn’t get better than Cass. What I needed—and what she needed—was to stop looking back. Releasing her from the albatross of Amanda—that would be my gift to her. She would have true freedom. With me.

I drove directly from Mr. Riley’s office to the coffee shop in Plattsburgh. Two minutes before closing, I was pushing through the front door, expecting to see Cass in her apron, stacking chairs. But no, just Brett. He didn’t seem a fan of mine—or of anyone, really. He pointed toward the back door, and I walked wordlessly past. I assumed Cass would be sitting on the steps where we’d shared that fake cigarette, but no luck there either. I kept walking, to the parking lot, and there she was, inside her dinged-up red Civic. She was twisted around, looking for something in the back seat, so she didn’t see me. I opened the passenger door, folded myself inside.

“No, you can’t,” she said, now facing front. “I’m leaving. And what are you even doing here? I have to leave.”

She’d been crying—her eyes were puffy—and she turned her head like she didn’t want me to see. As if I hadn’t already witnessed her rock bottom. I reached over and touched her arm. She looked down at my hand, held her eyes there for a beat, then looked at me, quickly shaking her head.

“I’m going back,” she said, motioning that I needed to get out of the car. It didn’t feel good—being shooed away like that.

“This is all wrong,” she was saying next. “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

I put my hand on the door handle and thought about just getting out. Why was I letting her treat me this way? Who was she to me, anyway? That is, besides the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I cut her a look, let her know I was hurt. Her shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry,” she said, slowing herself down. “I don’t mean to disappoint you. I really, really don’t. But I have to go back home now.”

Her face was open, and I knew for certain she was leaving. That she would hit the gas as soon as I got out of the car—a flash of red, speeding back to a life that would trap her forever.

“Oh, Cass,” I said, and I let my face crumble. “That’s what I’m here about.”

She looked confused. “That’s what you’re here about?”

“Amanda,” I said. I covered my eyes with my hand. I was a terrible actor. The whole thing felt absurd, and I expected my next sentence to move us in some other direction. But then I was stumbling ahead, saying, “I went to Bolton Landing today.”

“You wha—”

“I’m sorry,” I cut her off. “But I needed to know. So I could help you. And, Cass, what I found out—I am so, so sorry.”

I dropped my head and started shaking it, slowly, infusing my movement with pure devastation so she’d understand that sorry was actual sorrow—and about something much more consequential than a covert day trip.

Still, I wasn’t sure I could do it—say the words aloud. Weaving an entirely new existence for Cass with a single sentence. Did I have the stomach for it? But then Cass’s hands were reaching for mine, and that went straight to my veins. She looked stricken, her eyes imploring, and I just committed—committed myself to the moment and what was needed of me.

“Amanda is dead,” I said. “Pneumonia in the hospital—a week after the accident.”

All in. I went all in on Cass.

Then I steeled myself, shutting down all thought—no soul; I was just a body across from her—and holding steady as her eyes searched mine, desperately looking for an escape hatch. One second, two seconds, three. Then she dropped my hands and turned away, silently letting herself out of the car. I watched through the window as she opened the trunk, rummaged around. Then she slammed it shut, disappearing through a gap in the fence and into the row of trees behind the parking lot.