Isla and the Happily Ever After (30 page)

Is it possible that I’m worthy of being loved by someone whom I love?

My heart pounds at double its usual speed. “Either way,” I say. It sounds defensive. Like I’m making an excuse, which I suppose I am. “He needs to get his act together. The last time we talked, he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do about school. He’s a semester away from graduation, and he’s just
sitting
on it. And he can’t go to New England without a degree. So, basically, he’s not going anywhere.”

Sanjita looks confused. “New England?”

I tell her about his school and everything else spills out, too. “And I thought I was getting used to the idea of la Sorbonne, but I don’t know. Back when we were dating, it sounded exciting to go someplace new. I did all this research, and Dartmouth seemed really cool, you know? Different. And when I went up there a few weeks ago, it was even better than I’d imagined. But when we broke up, it became
his
place again—”

“I thought you said he wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Well, I don’t know that for sure—”

“Who cares? Go to Dartmouth.”

“Yeah, but what if he thinks I want to move there for him?”

“Do you?”

“No, but—”

“So go to Dartmouth.”

I frown, and she stares at me like I’m dense. “I’m not sure what’s so difficult about this,” she says. “You got into the school that you wanted to get into.
So go to it.
”

Holy shit. She’s right. Is it really that simple?

Sanjita crosses her arms, smug. She knows she’s won her argument.

“You used to want to be a lawyer,” I say. “Do you still want that? Because you’re good at arguing your case.”

She grins. “What else do you need me to fix?”

“I don’t know. My sister? Can you fix her?”

“Hattie, I assume?”

“She’s relentless.” I grind
une frite
into its paper sleeve. “She showed up in my room the other day – unasked, of course – and immediately started rifling through all of my belongings. I told her to cut it out, but that only made her push this huge stack of books off my desk.”

“Maybe she’s just curious about you. Maybe she didn’t mean anything by it.”

I shake my head. “Hattie never does anything without purpose. She was doing it to get under my skin, and it worked. Like it always does.”

Sanjita arches an eyebrow. “I don’t know. It sounds like you’re treating her like a child so she’s responding like one.”

I can’t contain the surprise from my expression. Or the outrage.

She holds up her hands in defence. “I have three older sisters. They might as well be three mothers. I’ve been making a conscious effort not to do it to Nikhil this year.”

One of my hands clutches my necklace. “Like…how?”

“Have you ever
invited
her to your room? Or anywhere else, for that matter?”

There’s a long and empty silence. Sanjita correctly interprets it. “What about Gen? Do you guys ever hang out, just the two of you?”

“She lives on the other side of the Atlantic.” It comes out pricklier than intended.

“But you do, don’t you? Over the holidays.”

I think about Gen in my bedroom over Thanksgiving. And then again over Christmas. The truth washes over me in a tidal wave. It’s true. Hattie has been trying to tell me for years. I treat Gen like a friend, and I treat her like a child.

I mother her.

Hattie hasn’t been my baby sister in ages. I’ve been condescending, and I’ve never seen nor treated her like an equal. She needs me to be a confidante. A friend. And then the unexpected flip side illuminates inside of me: I need her to be mine even more.

“You should consider a double major,” I say. “Law
and
psychology.”

Sanjita smiles as if she’s pleased to be seen. Just like me.

Chapter twenty-nine

Sanjita and I talk more about college and the future. But we don’t talk about Kurt. And we don’t talk about Emily. And as January rolls into February, I realize that we probably never will. We’ve grown too far apart, and our past hurts were too big. Real friendship is no longer an option. But I don’t feel melancholy about it – I feel relieved. There’s a measure of respect and well wishes between us. And that’s not nothing.

Our conversation also made me realize how much I’ve missed having a female friendship in my life. Sanjita and I may never hang out again, but there’s someone else here that I’ve been ignoring for far too long: Hattie.

It’s time to let go of this stupid grudge. I know she didn’t mean to get Josh and me in trouble. And she
didn’t
get us in trouble. She
didn’t
get Josh expelled. We got ourselves in trouble, and Josh got himself expelled.

The pain of losing him is as visceral as ever. The only way I’ll ever move past it is to make sure that the loss wasn’t in vain. That I’ve learned something. At the very least, being proactive will feel better than sitting around and feeling sorry for myself. It takes me a while to figure out the right way to simultaneously apologize
and
make a gesture of friendship, but it takes me even longer to work up the nerve to talk to her.

She’s my sister, but she’s still intimidating as hell.

I find the courage on an empty Sunday afternoon when Kurt is out potholing with his friends. Or…maybe it’s not so much that I find the courage. Maybe it’s more that I’m forced into it, because every time my world comes to a standstill, all I can think about is the Josh-size hole in my heart. It’s too sad for me to be alone.

Hattie is sceptical at my text, but she agrees to meet me more willingly than I would’ve guessed. I wait outside her dorm. “Why did you want me to dress warmly?” she asks. “Are you taking me to a Siberian prison?”

I smile and cross the street without her. “Nope.”

She hesitates. And then she catches up and walks beside me. “Abandoned research station in Antarctica?”

“Nope.”

“You’re taking me to practise for our two-person skeleton race at the Olympics.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it’s finally gonna snow?”

I’m thrown by her question, which sounds like a real one. She’s staring at the sky. “I doubt it,” I say. “We haven’t been lucky so far. Why would that change now?”

“You used to be the positive sister,” Hattie grumbles. We walk together silently to the other side of the Seine, and she’s only further exasperated when we reach our destination. “Tante Juliette’s. Is this an intervention? Did you find out about my sex addiction? So I like old men in baby diapers, what’s the big deal?”

“I didn’t bring you to Tante Juliette’s.”

She snarls. “I’ve been here, like, a million times, remember?”

“Just shut up and follow me.”

For some reason, Hattie does. She follows me up the stairs. Around the third floor, I look back over my shoulder and say, “Diapers, huh?”

“And those adult-size cribs. That’s hot.”

I laugh.

There’s the quickest hint of a smile before she drops back into deadpan. “And unibrows. I like a geezer with a giant, coarse unibrow.”

I laugh again. “Oh god, Hattie.”

We pass by the purple door with the leopard-print mat. “Yeah, see, that’s definitely Tante Juliette’s door,” she says.

I lead her to mine. “And this?”

“Her stupid roof. Gen once threw my teddy bear over the edge, and a car ran over him. Sludge was never the same.”

“She did? For real?” I’m startled. I don’t remember this.

“Yeah, for real.”

I unlock the door and head up the rickety steps. “Well. Sludge is safe. I promise I’m not leading you up here to re-enact a traumatic moment from your childhood.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” I almost don’t hear her say it, it’s so quiet.

I pop open the trapdoor, and she squints into the sunlight. I reach for her hand and help her onto the roof. Her eyes widen. My unmovable, unshakable sister looks surprised by her surroundings. “Who did this?” she asks. “It’s yours, isn’t it? This looks like you.”

I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. “It’s on loan. I’ve been using it for a few years.”

Hattie whips around and narrows her eyes at me. “So Gen gave it to you? This is your place? The two of you?”

“Gen? No, Tante Juliette gave it to me sophomore year. It was a place where Kurt and I could escape from…everyone else. Gen doesn’t know about it.”

“She doesn’t?” There’s a heartbreaking note of hope in her voice. And I know that everything Sanjita said is true.

I smile gently. “Nope. It’s a secret. She doesn’t know.”

“It’s pretty,” Hattie finally says.

“Thanks. I’m glad you like it. Because it’s yours now.”

For the second time in a single minute, Hattie looks surprised. I hold out the key. She takes it slowly. “Don’t you want to give this to Kurt? Isn’t it his, too?”

“Kurt has new places to explore. And…he’s not you. He’s not my sister.”

She almost appears to be shaken. Almost.

“And, you know, you don’t have to keep any of this stuff, it’s just junk we’ve picked up over the years—”

“No! No, I like it.” She glances around, and her eyes catch on the mural, which I’ve been trying my best to ignore. “You brought Josh up here, too.”

I tuck my hands inside my coat pockets. “Yeah.”

“So was this some sort of gross sexual playground? Did you do it on top of this carousel horse-head?”

“Hattie!”

She laughs at my reddened cheeks, and after a moment, I can’t help but join in. “No,” I say. “But
maybe
you should wash the blanket in that trunk.”

My sister squeals with genuine horror, which only makes us both laugh harder. When we finally stop, she pulls her gaze away from mine again. She focuses on the river. “It’s cool of you to give this to me. So…thanks.”

“I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “For being so awful to you this year. And for blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Hattie nods. She doesn’t take her eyes off the Seine. But I know we’re okay.

I take another deep breath, and…
there it is.
A new and distinct smell in the air. Hattie turns her head and smiles at me as the first snowflakes of the year swirl down upon Paris. The city is cold and hushed and beautiful.

“Will you miss this next year?” she asks, and when I look at her in surprise, she adds, “Maman told me they mailed the first cheque to Dartmouth.”

I hesitate, and then I tell her the truth. “I
will
miss Paris. And I’ll miss New York. I’m excited and scared, but…I think I’m more excited than scared. I think,” I say again.

“You think?”

“I think.” I slide down the wall until I’m sitting down. She sits beside me. We cross our arms, shivering. “When Josh and I were in Spain, we went to this park. This really, really beautiful park. And it started these ideas in my head about how maybe I wasn’t the person that I thought I was. Maybe I’m
not
a city girl. Maybe I was only thinking about Paris versus New York, because nothing else seemed real, somehow. Like, everywhere else just seemed like something—”

“You’d read about in a book.”

“
Exactly.
But being in this beautiful park with this beautiful boy talking about this alternate future in which I’m someone who learns how to camp and climb rocks and build fires and sleep below the stars…in that moment, it seemed possible.”

“So what? You’re gonna be a park ranger?”

I laugh. “I just want to try those things. They sound fun.”

“What about Josh?”

My eyes catch on his mural. On the brownstone with ivy window boxes and the American flag. “What about him?”

“He’s not a part of your plans any more?”

“Well…no. We broke up. And I don’t need him to do those things.”

“Yeah, duh,” Hattie says. “But that’s not what I meant. I meant don’t you still
want
to do those things with him?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I still want to do everything with him.”

“Isla…why do you think that Josh didn’t love you?”

My voice grows even smaller. “Because I thought no one could love me.”

“And why did you think
that
?”

“Because I didn’t think I was worth loving.”

Hattie takes this in. And then she hits me in the stomach. I yowl in surprise, and she hits me again. “Don’t be stupid.”

“
Ow
.”

“Everyone is worthy of love. Even a dumb sister like you.”

I snort. “Yeah, thanks. I got that. I’m okay now.”

“Are you? Because you don’t act like a person who is okay. You mope around school, and you hardly ever leave your room, and you always look unhappy.”

“Says the sister with the permanent scowl.”

“You need to talk to him.”

I sigh and stare at my lap. “I know.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“Because now I do believe that he loved me. And I’m afraid that after all this time, after everything I’ve put him through…he doesn’t any more.”

“Ugh. So take a risk and find out. The sooner you ask him, the sooner you can get on with your life. Either way,” she adds.

Thanks to Josh, I
am
taking risks. I’ve learned that if I never leave those areas of my life that feel comfortable, I’ll never have a chance at a greater happiness. Accepting Dartmouth was a risk. Asking my sister to hang out with me was a risk. But the biggest risk of all is still Josh himself. I don’t yet have the courage to give him the opportunity to say no. It’s impossible, the not-knowing, but it’s better than getting the wrong answer.