All Our Yesterdays (17 page)

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, kid,” he whispers.

My chest constricts into a hot, tingling ball. “You too.”

James kisses me again, this time on the cheek, only a breath from the corner of my mouth. He lingers there, his mouth hovering an inch from mine. My mind goes white and fuzzy, the world narrowed to the space between our lips.

James moves away, resting his head on my shoulder, and I inhale sharply. God, I don’t think I was breathing that entire time. I should get up, go back to the sofa, but James is heavy against me, his body pressed to mine from shoulder to knee. His breathing has slowed, and I think he might finally be asleep.

He might not have kissed me for real. But maybe I’m just what he needed.

I close my eyes.

Em

I stare at the two of them, tangled up in each other, until the bitter wind makes my eyes water and blur.

I could do it right now. The gun is tucked into the back of my belt. I could take it out and shoot James through the window and be done with this forever.

But there’s Marina curled up next to him, her fingers clutching at him even in sleep, and I remember so vividly what it was like to be that girl, to clutch with those fingers, to be close to that boy. The feel and smell of him. How much she—
I
—loved him.

I pull the gun from my belt and hold it in front of me. It’s warm from being pressed against my skin, and my hands are suddenly clammy as I flex my fingers around it. I flip off the safety, and the soft click is like an explosion in my ears.

I should do it now. Spare myself and Finn any more of this misery. In five seconds it could all be over. I won’t exist anymore to regret this horrible step I’ve been forced to take.

James shifts in his sleep, pulling Marina closer.

I close my eyes. The sight of them weakens me. I try to remember that the boy in the bed is already gone. The man who wears his face in the future has been twisted and warped beyond recognition, made cruel by ambition and his own perverse determination to do what he thinks is right.

I squeeze the gun in my hands as I picture Luz, my dear Luz, thrown away like a piece of trash. Vivianne dying in a one-car crash in the middle of the night on the Baltimore–Washington Parkway. Mrs. Abbott, who will have nothing left of her son but a few scribbled postcards. Finn screaming as they torture him for information he doesn’t have. All the people who will suffer and die because of James.

I open my eyes and look at the two of them, lying together in that bed, so beautifully unaware of what’s about to crash down on their heads, and I raise the gun. Two feet, maybe less, separates the barrel from James’s head. It will be quick.

My eyes drift to Marina. God, was I ever really that young? I’m not sure what will happen after I fire the gun. Finn and I will cease to exist, our time line snuffed out along with James’s life, but where—or when—will Marina wake up? Will she see what I’ve done? The thought makes me shudder. It would destroy her.

Maybe I can give them one more moment together.

I start to lower the gun, and as the barrel tilts toward the ground, a familiar sensation grabs hold of my belly like a cold hand. I don’t have time to panic or resist before it yanks me backward.

Back and back and back.

I fall through nothingness at dizzying speed. When I finally open my eyes, I’m in the little white cell that was my home for so many months.

James is sitting across from me. He has a Taser held lightly in his hand.

“Please, Marina,” he says. “Tell me where the documents are. Then I can help you.”

“Oh really?” I say. “The way you helped Vivianne? Or Luz?”

He stiffens. “That wasn’t my fault. I never would have—”

“Vivianne’s dead, James!” I shout, my voice leaping out of my control. “I guess she knew too much, but Luz didn’t know anything, and when she couldn’t tell you where we were, you had her put in a detainment camp. For
terrorist activities
!” Tears sting behind my eyes as I vacillate between grief and rage thinking of Luz, her careworn face and her strong, gentle hands. “A sweet old lady who never got so much as a traffic ticket, imprisoned as a terrorist. That woman loved you, and you ruined her life just because you could!”

He stands so abruptly that the legs of his chair scrape against the concrete. I can see the tension coiled in his body, ready to snap, as he clenches his hands into fists over and over. For a second he could be the James I loved, pacing the room as he tried to work out some mental puzzle, but the line of his jaw is too harsh, the look in his eyes too cold.

“I did it because I needed you to understand how important it is that you hand over the documents,” he says. “If anyone else gets a hold of them, the consequences are beyond your imagination!”

“Yeah, I never was smart enough to understand any of this,” I say with a grim smile. “I guess I don’t get how planting bombs all over the country is supposed to make us safer. Or how your quest to save the world is doing anything other than serving your ego. Stupid me.”

He looks down at me, and he actually looks sad. “Please. They’ll hurt you.”

I stare back at him. “And you’ll let them.”

He turns away. “Sometimes you have to hurt someone you love for the greater good.”

“Why do you get to decide what the greater good is?” I say. “These are
people
you’re talking about, not just numbers in one of your equations. Don’t you get that? Did you
ever
?”

His face doesn’t change. “Just tell me what you did with the documents.”

I spit at his feet.

He sighs and knocks on the door to my cell, summoning the guard. I see him swallow before he says, “Make her talk.”

The guard nods and slaps me with the back of his hand as calmly as if he’d been told to make his bed. He hits me again and again.

“James!” I sob when he heads for the door.

He pauses, but then slides the cell door shut without looking at me, leaving me alone with the guard. I swear to myself in that moment that I’ll never say the name again. James is gone. There’s only the doctor now.

I come back to myself with a gasp. I’m lying on the Abbotts’ porch, writhing with the pain of the remembered beating, the gun beside me. How long was I gone? I scramble to my knees and peek into the bedroom.

Marina and James are gone.

Fourteen

Marina

The sliding sound of wood on wood wakes me. I blink, not recognizing the faded blue paint or the piles of what look like computer pieces heaped onto the desk in the corner.

Or the arm slung around my waist.

My head starts to feel heavy as it all comes back to me. Nate. The blood. The hospital. Each thought weighs me down until I can barely turn my head toward the sound that woke me.

Finn is standing at a dresser near the foot of the bed, staring down at James and me, curled up together in his bed.

“I just came for some clean clothes,” he says.

“Finn—”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He leaves and closes the door behind him. My chest aches when I inhale, like the look in his eyes rubbed me raw, though I’m not sure why. I slip out from under James’s arm and follow him to the kitchen, where he’s cracking eggs over an open skillet.

“So, you finally reeled him in, huh?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“What?” I say, thrown by the sudden change in his demeanor.

“You’ve got to give James credit.” He stirs the eggs with a spoon so forcefully that some slosh over the edge of the skillet and onto the burner, where they sizzle and turn black. “He put up a good fight, but I guess your feminine wiles—or is it graces? I’m never sure—anyway, your feminine
qualities
finally hooked him. Your friends will be so proud; did you text them yet?”

“You’re an asshole,” I whisper. “His brother was
shot
last night.”

He ignores me. “What’ll you name your kids, you think? I’m sure you’ve already got some options picked out.”

I push him. “Shut up.”

He holds up his eggy spoon in surrender and laughs. “Easy, M. Chill.”

James enters the kitchen, all rumpled and creased, his hair sticking up in ten different directions. Normally I would find this unbearably charming and add it to my mental photo album of James, but Finn’s teasing has shaken me for reasons I can’t quite pin down. The way it made me and my friends sound so . . . mercenary? The creeping insecurity that James just needed
someone
and I was the one
there
?

If only he would look at me, but his eyes are firmly fixed on a spot on the linoleum.

“I need to go back to the hospital,” he says. “It’s been almost five hours. Vivianne must be going crazy with Cousin Alice.”

“You should eat something first,” Finn says.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad.”

I want to shake him.
Look at me!
But he doesn’t, and the sick feeling in my stomach builds. Was Finn right? Am I really so stupid that I was about to start picking out baby names when what happened meant nothing to James?

From the back of the house, a door opens and a
bang-shuffle-bang
sound moves toward us. Finn shoves the skillet of eggs and spoon into my hand. I stare at it for a moment and then push the eggs around uncertainly.

“Mom,” Finn calls. “What do you need?”

Mrs. Abbott, leaning heavily on a walker, her sweatpants and sweater hanging off her thin frame, enters the kitchen. “Just getting some juice.”

“I’ll bring you a glass. Get back to bed.”

I glance at James and see he’s as surprised about Mrs. Abbott’s condition as I was.

“I want to say hello to your friends,” she says, resisting Finn’s attempts to steer her back toward her bedroom. “It’s good to finally meet you, James. I’m so very sorry about your brother.”

James fidgets. “Thank you, ma’am.”

I think the eggs are beginning to burn, so I take the skillet off the stove.

“Mom,” Finn says softly. “You’re going to wear yourself out.”

“I’m fine, honey. Quit fussing.” She takes a few labored steps toward the refrigerator and leans hard against her walker with one hand while she uses the other to pull it open. Finn fetches her a glass, and she reaches inside the fridge for a carton of orange juice. “How is he doing, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“The doctors, um, they say he’s critical, and he’s still unconscious.” James’s voice is barely audible, and he doesn’t look at Mrs. Abbott. He’s never been good with strangers, even under the best conditions. “I’m heading back to the hospital now.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Abbott says. Finn scoops the juice carton out of her trembling hand and pours her a glass, and she pulls his face down to kiss his cheek. “There are some travel-size board games in the closet that are good for waiting rooms. You should take them. Finn, go get the games to take with you.”

“I will.” Finn takes his mother’s elbow and helps her from the room. But it’s a small house, so James and I still hear every word they say as they make their way down the hallway back to the master bedroom.

“I’m staying home,” Finn says softly. “I’m not leaving you alone again.”

“Oh, honey, I’ll be fine. And your father will be home soon. You should be there for your friend.”

“But what if you need something—”

“Finn.” It’s a tone of voice I recognize from Luz. “I’m the parent here, okay? You don’t need to worry about me.”

When they’re gone, the master bedroom door closed behind them, I turn to James. “You didn’t know, either?” I ask, trying to sound normal.

He shakes his head and doesn’t meet my eyes. “Looks like MS.”

“Why didn’t he ever tell us?”

“Probably didn’t want things to get too serious.”

I shrivel. I hurled those words at Finn like a weapon only hours ago, with no idea of how serious his life actually is. I can’t imagine what he thinks of me, how selfish and spoiled I must look to him. Selfish, spoiled, and in love with a boy who will never love me back. Selfish, spoiled, and completely delusional.

I am starting to hate myself.

Morris and Spitzer drive us back to the hospital, and James calls Vivianne on the way.

“Anything?” I ask when he hangs up.

“The same. They said once he’s stable enough, they’re going to move him to Walter Reed, where the security is better.”

“Did they say anything about the person who shot at you?” Finn asks. I look over at him sharply. “I mean, uh, the
people
.”

“People?” James says.

“Yeah. Marina saw them.”

“You did?” James looks at me for the first time since I climbed into his bed. “I didn’t know that.”

I shrug. The whole episode is just another reminder of how useless I am. “No one believed me anyway.”