It Ends With Us (18 page)

He just wrapped his arms around me and said, “Lily, calm down.” He kept saying it over and over, and he held me there for a long time until I accepted that he wasn’t gonna
let me go back out there. He wasn’t gonna let me have that knife.

He walked over to the bed and grabbed his jacket and started putting on his shoes. “We’ll go next door,” he said. “We’ll call the police.”

The police.

My mother had warned me not to call the police in the past. She said it could jeopardize my father’s career. But in all honesty, I didn’t care at that point. I didn’t care
that he was the mayor or that everyone who loved him didn’t know the awful side of him. The only thing I cared about was helping my mother, so I pulled on my jacket and went to the closet for
a pair of shoes. When I stepped out of my closet, Atlas was staring at my bedroom door.

It was opening.

My mother stepped inside and quickly shut it, locking it behind her. I’ll never forget what she looked like. She had blood coming down from her lip. Her eye was already starting to
swell, and she had a clump of hair just resting on her shoulder. She looked at Atlas and then me.

I didn’t even take a moment to feel scared that she caught me in my room with a boy. I didn’t care about that. I was just worried about her. I walked over to her and grabbed her
hands and walked her to my bed. I brushed the hair off her shoulder and then from her forehead.

“He’s gonna go call the police, Mom. Okay?”

Her eyes grew real wide and she started shaking her head. “No,” she said. She looked over at Atlas and said, “You can’t. No.”

He was already at the window about to leave, so he stopped and looked at me.

“He’s drunk, Lily,” she said. “He heard your door shut, so he went to our bedroom. He stopped. If you call the police, it’ll just make it worse, believe me. Just
let him sleep it off, it’ll be better tomorrow.”

I shook my head and could feel the tears stinging my eyes. “Mom, he was trying to rape you!”

She ducked her head and winced when I said that. She shook her head again and said, “It’s not like that, Lily. We’re married, and sometimes marriage is
just . . . you’re too young to understand it.”

It got really quiet for a minute, and then I said. “I hope to hell I never do.”

That’s when she started to cry. She just held her head in her hands and she started to sob and all I could do was wrap my arms around her and cry with her. I’d never seen her this
upset. Or this hurt. Or this scared. It broke my heart, Ellen.

It broke me.

When she was finished crying, I looked around the room and Atlas had left. We went to the kitchen and I helped her clean up her lip and her eye. She never did say anything about him being
there. Not one thing. I waited for her to tell me I was grounded, but she never did. I realized that maybe she didn’t acknowledge it because that’s what she does. Things that hurt her
just get swept under the rug, never to be brought up again.

—Lily

Dear Ellen,

I think I’m ready to talk about Boston now.

He left today.

I’ve shuffled my deck of cards so many times, my hands hurt. I’m scared if I don’t get out how I feel on paper, I’ll go crazy holding it all in.

Our last night didn’t go over so well. We kissed a lot at first, but we were both too sad to really care about it. For the second time in two days, he told me he changed his mind and
that he wasn’t leaving. He didn’t want to leave me alone in this house. But I’ve lived with these parents for almost sixteen years. It was silly of him to turn down a home in
favor of being homeless, just because of me. We both knew that, but it still hurt.

I tried to not be so sad about it, so when we were lying there, I asked him to tell me about Boston. I told him maybe one day when I got out of school, I could go there.

He got this look in his eye when he started talking about it. A look I’d never seen. Sort of like he was talking about heaven. He told me about how everyone has the greatest accents
there. Instead of car, they say cah. He must not realize that he sometimes says his r’s like that, too. He said he lived there from the ages of nine until he was fourteen, so I guess maybe he
picked up a little bit of the accent.

He told me about how his uncle lives in an apartment building with the coolest rooftop deck.

“A lot of apartments have them,” he said. “Some even have pools.”

Plethora, Maine, probably didn’t even have a building that was tall enough for a rooftop deck. I wondered what it would feel like to be that high up. I asked him if he ever went up
there and he said yes. That when he was younger, sometimes he would go to the roof and just sit up there and think while he looked out over the city.

He told me about the food. I already knew he liked to cook but I had no idea how much passion he had for it. I guess because he doesn’t have a stove or a kitchen, so other than the
cookies he baked me, he’s never really talked about cooking before.

He told me about the harbor and how, before his mother remarried, she used to take him fishing out there. “I mean, Boston isn’t any different from any other big city, I
guess,” he said. “There’s not a lot that makes it stand out. It’s just . . . I don’t know. There’s a vibe. A really good energy. When people say
they live in Boston, they’re proud of it. I miss that sometimes.”

I ran my fingers through his hair and said, “Well, you make it sound like the best place in the world. Like everything is better in Boston.”

He looked at me and his eyes were sad when he said. “Everything is almost better in Boston. Except the girls. Boston doesn’t have you.”

That made me blush. He kissed me real sweet and then I said to him, “Boston doesn’t have me yet. Someday I’ll move there and I’ll find you.”

He made me promise. Said if I moved to Boston, everything really would be better there and it would be the best city in the world.

We kissed some more. And did other things that I won’t bore you with. Although, that’s not to say they were boring.

They were not.

But then this morning I had to tell him goodbye. And he held me and kissed me so much, I thought I might die if he let go.

But I didn’t die. Because he let go and here I am. Still living. Still breathing.

Just barely.

—Lily

I flip to the next page, but then slam the book shut. There’s only one more entry and I don’t know that I really feel like reading it right now. Or ever. I put
the journal back in my closet, knowing that my chapter with Atlas is over. He’s happy now.

I’m
happy now.

Time can definitely heal all wounds.

Or at least most of them.

I turn off my lamp and then pick up my phone to plug it in. I have two missed text messages from Ryle and one from my mother.

I pull my phone to my chest and smile. Then I screen-shot the text because I’m keeping it forever. I open up the third text message.

I screen-shot that one, too.

“What are you doing to those poor flowers?” Allysa asks from behind me.

I clamp another silver washer closed and slide it down the stem. “Steampunk.”

We both stand back and admire the bouquet. At least . . . I
hope
she’s looking at it with admiration. It turned out better than I thought it would. I used florist dip
dye to turn some white roses a deep purple. Then I decorated the stems with different steampunk elements, like tiny metal washers and gears, and even super-glued a small clock to the brown leather
strap that’s holding the bouquet together.

“
Steampunk?
”

“It’s a trend. Kind of a subgenre of fiction, but it’s catching on in other areas. Art. Music.” I turn around and smile, holding up the bouquet. “And
now . . .
flowers
.”

Allysa takes the flowers from me and holds them up in front of her. “They’re so . . . weird. I love them so much.” She hugs them. “Can I have
them?”

I pull them away from her. “No, they’re our grand opening display. Not for sale.” I take the flowers from her and grab the vase I made yesterday. I found a pair of old
button-up women’s boots at a flea market last week. They reminded me of the steampunk style, and the boots are actually where I got the idea for the flowers. I washed the boots last week,
dried them, and then super-glued pieces of metal to them. Once I brushed them with Mod Podge, I was able to line the inside with a vase to hold water for the flowers.

“Allysa?” I place the flowers on the center display table. “I’m pretty sure this is exactly what I was supposed to do with my life.”

“Steampunk?” she asks.

I laugh and spin around. “Create!” I say. And then I flip the sign to open, fifteen minutes early.

We both spend the day busier than we thought we’d be. Between phone orders, Internet orders, and walk-ins, neither of us even has time to take a lunch break.

“You need more employees,” Allysa says as she passes me, holding two bouquets of flowers. That is at one o’clock.

“You need more employees,” she says to me at two o’clock, holding the phone to her ear and writing down an order while ringing someone up at the register.

Marshall stops by after three o’clock and asks how it’s going. Allysa says, “She needs more employees.”

I help a woman take a bouquet to her car at four o’clock, and as I’m walking back inside, Allysa is walking out, holding another bouquet. “You need more employees,” she
says, exasperated.

At six o’clock, she locks the door and flips the sign. She falls against the door and slides to the floor, looking up at me.

“I know,” I tell her. “I need more employees.”

She just nods.

And then we laugh. I walk over to where she’s seated and I sit next to her. We lean our heads together and look at the store. The steampunk flowers are front and center, and although I
refused to sell this particular bouquet, we had eight preorders for more of them.

“I’m proud of you, Lily,” she says.

I smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Issa.”

We sit there for several minutes, enjoying the rest we’re finally giving our feet. This was honestly one of the best days I’ve ever had, but I can’t help but feel a nagging
sadness that Ryle never stopped by. He also never texted.

“Have you heard from your brother today?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s just busy.”

I nod. I know he’s busy.

We both look up when someone knocks on the door. I smile when I see him cupping his hands around his eyes with his face pressed to the window. He finally looks down and sees us sitting on the
floor.

“Speak of the devil,” Allysa says.

I jump up and unlock the door to let him in. As soon as I open it, he’s pushing his way inside. “I missed it? I did. I missed it.” He hugs me. “I’m sorry, I tried
to get here as soon as I could.”

I hug him back and say, “It’s fine. You’re here. It was perfect.” I’m giddy with excitement that he made it at all.

“
You’re
perfect,” he says, kissing me.

Allysa brushes past us. “
You’re
perfect,” she mimics. “Hey Ryle, guess what?”

Ryle releases me. “What?”

Allysa grabs the trash can and drops it on the counter. “Lily needs to hire more employees.”

I laugh at her constant repetition. Ryle squeezes my hand and says, “Sounds like business was good.”

I shrug. “I can’t complain. I mean . . . I’m no
brain
surgeon, but I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Ryle laughs. “You guys need any help cleaning up?”

Allysa and I put him to work, helping us clean up after the big day. We get everything finished and prepped for tomorrow, and then Marshall arrives just as we’re finishing up. He’s
carrying a bag when he walks inside and drops it on the counter. He begins to pull out huge lumps of some kind of material and tosses them at each of us. I catch mine and unfold it.

It’s a onesie.

With kittens all over it.

“Bruins game. Free beer. Suit up, team!”

Allysa groans and says, “Marshall, you made six million dollars this year. Do we
really
need free beer?”

He shoves a finger against her lips, pushing them in opposite directions. “Shh! Don’t speak like a rich girl, Issa. Blasphemy.”

She laughs and Marshall grabs the onesie out of her hand. He unzips it and helps her into it. Once we’re all suited up, we lock the door and head to the bar.

I’ve never in my life seen so many men in onesies. Allysa and I are the only women wearing them, but I kind of like that. It’s loud. So loud, and each time the Bruins make a good
play, Allysa and I have to cover our ears from the screams. After about half an hour, a booth on the top floor opens up and we all run upstairs to claim it.