The Words We Keep

It’s so easy.

It’ll be over.

We’ll be quiet then.

We promise.

It’s the only way.

—

Another voice breaks through.

“Lily!”

Alice stands behind me, her arms outstretched. Behind her, Dad and Micah.

I take them all in. Dad’s face is twisted, his hands clasped together. Micah looks like he’s using all his energy to not run toward me.

“Come back,” Alice says. The white bandage wrapping her head tortures me.

You did that.

You hurt her.

“Do you hate me?” I ask.

“Of course not. We love you.” She inches closer to me. “Come home with us.”

I love you, too.

Too much.

I shake my head, trying not to look down, where the white frothy tips crash in the darkness.

“It was your idea,” I say. “To fly.”

“Not like this, Lily. I didn’t mean like this.”

“No, you were right. I’ll be free.”

The voices will stop. They promised me. It will be so easy. And I won’t make Dad’s face look like that anymore. I won’t make Margot cry or you bleed. Don’t you see, Alice, don’t you see?

It’s the only way out.

“It’s too much. Too much to carry alone,” I say. “Too much to put on the people you love.”

She takes a step toward me. I move to the edge of the cliff. The roar of the water crescendos, pulsing in my head.

“Listen to me,” Alice yells, straining to be heard over the waves and the wind. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve been there. You can’t see one step ahead of you right now. But this isn’t the answer.”

“Then what is, Alice? What is the answer? Because nobody seems to know.”

A massive wave slams into the cliff, spraying us both. Salty water drips into my mouth as Alice’s eyes dart back and forth from me to the edge.

“I don’t know. But I know you’ll never find it if you leave now. So stay, and we’ll figure it out together.” She moves another step closer to me. “Take my hand.”

“You won’t even take your medicine!” I yell, tears flowing down my cheeks now. The wind whisks them into nothing. Drowns them in the sea.

“I will.” Her hand is still out in the space between us, the pink slashes marring her arm. “I’ll find the right meds and you’ll get help, and we’ll be brave, together.”

“I am being brave.”

“No. No.” She shakes her head. “Stay. That’s brave.”

The voices from the ocean are screaming now.

She’s lying.

If you stay, they’ll all suffer

because of you

disgusting

failure

waste of space.

I feel myself slipping out of my body. As Alice creeps close, I go,

bit

by

bit

by

bit.

Until I’m above me, watching as I teeter on the edge.

I see Alice reaching for me.

Flash!

I’m six again. Alice’s hands guide me through the water.

Flash!

They buoy me up.

Flash!

Her hands throw open the sheets as she helps me make friends with monsters.

Part of me wants to reach out to her again. Let her pull me away from the edge.

Because I don’t want to go, not really—I just want it to stop. All of it—the monsters, the guilt, the never enough.

It’s the only way.

I’m floating away. I feel myself going

going

goi—

“Lily!”

Dad’s running toward me, his face contorted. His arms wide, a visceral, guttural cry erupting from his throat.

Flash!

I’m little, choking up water on the beach. Dad makes that same noise from deep within his chest. He rocks me, rocks me, rocks me in the space reserved just for me. Aren’t you proud of us, Daddy? We were on an adventure. His arms hug me so tight, I can’t breathe.

Flash!

His arms carry Alice down the stairs.

Flash!

Mom doesn’t come home from the hospital. I don’t understand. Moms don’t leave. Alice and I hold hands under the covers. Dad folds us in his arms. I’ve got you, he says. Daddy’s got you.

“Lily!” he screams again.

My dad’s cry hangs in the air, louder than all the waves.

Louder than the monsters.

His voice brings me back into my body, and I feel the wind and the tears and the everything.

And I want him to tuck me into his arms, chase the monsters away. Tell me everything will be okay.

Even if he doesn’t know how.

Because even when he didn’t have the answers, he was there.

He stayed.

And I want to stay, too.

My knees begin to buckle. I grab Alice’s hand before I fall.

But I don’t hit the ground. Strong arms catch me. My head fits perfectly into my spot.

“Dad?”

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

“Daddy,” I whisper.

Cracks splinter through the ice behind my ribs. The words, buried for so long, burst out, sending aching waves ripping through me as I let them fly free.

“I need help.”