Brightly (Flicker #2) (63 page)

“I need you to stop
looking
at me like that,” Nasser said curtly.

She blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a wounded animal that needs to be put out of its misery.”

“Maybe I could, if you’d stop acting like one!” Lee blurted, then froze, taken aback by her own words. Her face heated. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then why did you say it?” Nasser asked. His expression had turned hard, like a wall thrown up to keep her out.

Lee’s voice softened further, but his eyes didn’t. “I’m worried about you,” she said. “You haven’t left the apartment in almost a month. You won’t talk about anything that matters. You keep pushing me away—” She reached for him, but he slipped out of her grasp. She sighed. “That’s exactly what I mean. What’s going on?”

“You’re trying too hard to act like it doesn’t freak you out.” He sounded a little weary and a little sad. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? It was better when you didn’t bother.”

At first, Lee was too bewildered to speak. After their talk in the kitchen last week, she’d made a point of being more affectionate with him, thinking it would ease the tension that had been building between them, that it would make him happy—or, at least, happier. But, more often than not, Nasser shied away from her touch. She hadn’t known what to make of it, but she was reluctant to broach the subject. It hadn’t occurred to her that he was interpreting her efforts as forced or insincere, that she had jumped from
not enough
to
too much
.

“I’m not freaked out,” she said.

Nasser shook his head. “Of course you are. Hell,
I’m
freaked out by it.”

“That doesn’t mean I am. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Come on. You won’t even look at it.”

She felt herself flush, unable to deny that charge. She did avoid looking at his right leg—not because it made her uncomfortable, but because she didn’t want to make
him
uncomfortable by gawking. In truth, she was sort of curious about his leg. Part of her wanted to see it, but she knew better than to ask. “Listen, Nasser—”

“I know how it looks. It’s repulsive, and it’s
attached
to me, and I’m…” Nasser stopped, shifting his grip on the crutches. “You can stop pretending. You don’t owe me anything. It’s not sparing my feelings any. I can tell the difference.”

“You have it all backwards,” Lee said. She had known he was self-conscious of his leg, but she hadn’t realized the insecurity ran so deep, that he was projecting it onto her, as well. “I’m not pretending to do anything. I’m just trying to help you.”

“Let me help myself,” he said, sounding exasperated. “I don’t need you to do anything for me.”

Indignant, Lee said, “You
do
need help, though!” The words came in a rush then, spilling out of her, as if eager to escape. “Not with everything, but with certain things. Only you never say so, and you shut down when I ask, so I have to guess. And, yeah, maybe I
have
been overcompensating. Maybe I
have
been doing too much—but only because you won’t give me a
clue
as to what I’m supposed to do for you!”

“Nothing! It’s not your problem!”

“Yes, it is,” she said firmly. “This didn’t just happen to you. It happened to
all of us
. It changed
all of us
. It’s hurting us, too.”

“I know it is!” he barked. “I know it’s a mess. I know
I’m
a mess.”

She froze. “I didn’t mean—”

“Do you think I want to be like this?” he asked. “I can’t walk. That’s the most basic thing in the world, and I can’t do it. I wake up in the morning, and I feel wrong, like I’m not even me. Everything’s screwed up now. Jason and Alice and Filo—” His voice broke. Something else seemed to be broken, too, something deep down inside him, where she couldn’t see. “I’m supposed to look after them. That’s all I’ve done, my whole life. That’s everything. If I can’t do that, what use am I? What’s the point?”

He’d never spoken of it this way. Listening to him now, Lee understood the feeling more deeply than she had realized. Less than a year ago, she had woken one morning to discover that her life had dissolved, and she remembered the desolation that came with it: the vast, empty deserts that hollowed her heart. It had taken a long time to fill those spaces, to stop feeling all wrong in her skin, to figure out how to live a different way. When she lost everything, Nasser had helped her to start over.

What Nasser had lost was different, though. It couldn’t be fixed the same way. Pieces of him had been carved away, both inside and outside. He couldn’t just start from scratch, as she had. She couldn’t offer what he needed to move forward. But maybe someone else could.

Lee tried to imagine him as he might be: a little older, wearing the long black coat of Guild doctors, the beaked mask tucked under his arm. She imagined him with a prosthetic leg and without seizures. She imagined him safe somewhere. Secure. Even happy.

She imagined him with a whole life that probably couldn’t include her—and though her heart twisted, all at once, she understood what Jason had said.
If that’s what it takes to keep him safe, then I’ll live with it.

“If you stay here, it won’t get any better,” she said tentatively, edging closer to him. “But… if you became Amelia’s apprentice, maybe it could be different.”

Nasser let out a breath. “Not you, too,” he muttered. “Have you been talking to Jason?”

“Does it really matter?” she asked. “I wasn’t thinking clearly before, but I am now. The Guild can make a lot of things possible for you. You could have steady work for the rest of your life. You could
walk
—”

“I don’t care about any of that that,” Nasser insisted. “Not if it means accepting anything from the Guild.” But she had seen the pain that flashed in his eyes at the word
walk
. He cared more than he was willing to admit.

“Well, I do!” she said. “And so should you. Filo, Jason and Alice
want
you to get out of here. If you stick around for their sake, they’ll never forgive themselves. They already think it’s their fault.”

Nasser shook his head. “It’s not their fault. And it’s not just them.”

She understood what he meant. Quietly, she said, “I’m not your responsibility.”

“No,” he agreed, softly. “You’re something else.”

Lee felt the words as much as she heard them, deep in her chest, close to her heart. Her mouth went dry. “Tell me you’re not doing this because of me.”

“I couldn’t stand to leave you the first time I saw you in that revel, before I even knew your name.” A look of hopelessness flickered across Nasser’s face. “How am I supposed to leave you now, after everything?”

“You can’t stay for me,” she whispered. “Whatever you do, it has to be for
you
.”

“It
is
for me. This is what I want.”

For a moment, she gazed up at him wordlessly, searching for the gentle boy she loved, the boy who always had a smile for her, who always seemed so certain—but all she could find was someone as lost as she was.

“If this is what you really want,” she asked quietly, “why are you so unhappy?”

His silence was all the answer she needed.

She pressed her mouth into a thin line. “If I weren’t part of the equation, would you go?”

“You
are
, though. There’s no use pretending. Lee, you know how much I—”

“Damn it, Nasser,” she broke in desperately. “You have to let go! We can’t keep living the way we used to. It’s not like it was. It’ll never be like it was!”

Nasser looked incredulous. His restraint seemed to crack. “Did you think I forgot that? Do you think there’s
one second
of the day when I forget that I’m crippled? That I’m a drain on all of you?” He was as close to yelling as she’d ever heard him.

“Do something about it, then, if you feel that way!” Lee shouted, knowing she was being cruel and hating herself for it, but also knowing that he would never budge if she didn’t push him. “It’s your choice to live like this! You can take Amelia’s offer.”

“And probably never see you again!”

“I don’t care!” she yelled, the last word coming out more like a sob. Nasser flinched, and her heart somersaulted wildly in her chest, making her dizzy, but she forced herself to plow ahead. “This isn’t love. This is martyrdom, and I won’t help you do it!”

“Well, that’s a first,” he said tightly. “I thought all you wanted to do was
help
.”

“That’s what I’m doing.” Lee clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into the heels of her hands, hard enough that her eyes watered. Or maybe her eyes were watering for another reason.

“I’ve never done this to you,” Nasser said, each word cold and distinct, stabbing into Lee like an icicle. She could detect the undercurrent of confusion in his voice, of hurt. “I’ve never tried to talk you out of something that was important to you. Everything you’ve wanted to do—everything, since we met—I supported you.”

“I know.” She wanted to reach for him, to hold him against her, but she was afraid to move. Every movement she made felt wrong, like she was breaking things left and right. “But I can’t support you in this. I wish I could. I tried. I tried so hard. But I want what’s best for you.”

He set his jaw. “Why can’t you trust
me
to decide what’s best for me?”

“Because you never will! You’ll pick whatever you think is best for
us
. You always do. But that’s not the same.”

“It is to me.”

She shook her head. “What do you want me to do?” she demanded. “Pretend everything’s fine because that’s what you want? I can’t do that. I can’t stand here and watch you throw your life away and do nothing!”

“Then leave!” he shouted, so abruptly that she took half a step back. “Stop watching, if it’s so goddamned hard!”

The silence that followed was immense. Nasser had gone perfectly still. He looked nearly as stunned as Lee felt, as if he were shocked by his own words. For a moment, Lee wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say that, or if the words had just slipped out before he could stop them. Then she realized that it didn’t matter.

Lee’s heart thudded in her ears, so loudly that her own voice sounded muffled. “If you want me to go, then I’ll go. And if being around me makes you this way, then I won’t come back. We’re no good for each other right now.”

Nasser was quiet for a long moment. His eyes never left her. “Say it.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to do this, you can at least say what you really mean.” There was a tremor in his voice, one he tried to hide.

In that moment, Lee wanted nothing more than to go to him, to bury her face in his shirtfront and tell him that she didn’t mean it, that she never wanted to be without him—but she knew she couldn’t. She had to remove herself from the equation.

She loved him enough to give him what he needed, even if it hurt, even if she was torn apart in the giving. She loved him enough to send him away.

Let go,
she chanted silently, pleading with herself as much as with him.
You have to let go. You have to let go.

Lee swallowed. Her throat ached so badly that she could only whisper, but she looked him in the eye. “I can’t do this, Nasser. This isn’t you. You’re bitter, and you’re angry, and you’re starting to resent me. And I know you can’t control how you feel, but I can’t stand here and face it all the time. It’s too much. If I can do anything for you, I will. Anything. But you have to ask. You have to be open with me. You have to want me here. I can’t keep throwing everything I have at you and hoping some of it sticks. I’ve got nothing left. I’m exhausted, and you’re shutting me out, so nothing I do matters.”

She waited for him to speak, to contradict her, to ask her to stay. But he never did. When she realized he wasn’t going to argue, her heart dropped even lower. Jason had spoken truthfully: There was no fight left in him. Or maybe he just didn’t want to fight for her.

Hugging herself with one arm, Lee said, “You push me away, but you’re using me as an excuse, too, so you don’t have to make the hard choice. I won’t be your excuse, Nasser. This has to stop. If you ever need me, for anything, I’ll be here. But I can’t be with you. We’re not—” She had to stop and take a shaky breath. “We’re not together.”

Nasser looked like he’d been punched, but he still didn’t speak. He just curled his hands tighter around the grips of the crutches and nodded once, resigned.

Somehow, that silence cut deeper than anything he could’ve said.

Lee wasn’t entirely sure of how she got home. The bus ride and the walk back to Flicker were a dull smear in her memory. What she remembered most clearly was a deep, all-consuming ache, the feeling that her bones were going to explode.

It wasn’t until she staggered into the bedroom, kicked the door shut behind her and collapsed onto her bed that she allowed herself to cry. She tried to control it at first, but that made her feel even worse, like she was choking. After that, she just let it come.

She didn’t know how long she’d been crying when the bedroom door creaked open. She looked up with a start.