Ashes to Ashes

PAIGE TEXTS ASKING ME TO STOP BY AFTER SCHOOL. When I get there, the door’s unlocked, so I let myself in and call out, “Paige? It’s Lillia.”

I stop in the kitchen first. There are dishes neatly stacked in the drying rack, freshly washed. Paige hates doing dishes. That was always Rennie’s job. It must have been Reeve. Ash told me he’s been helping Paige out too. I turn around and see that he tied up a bag of cans and bottles for recycling and set it near the front door.

“In here, Lil!”

I find Paige in her bedroom, still in her robe and pajamas. She’s packing her clothes into a cardboard box. She looks up at me, and her eyes have that zombie look to them that she gets when she takes her sleeping pills.

“Are you moving?” I ask her. This is the first I’m hearing of it. But I guess it makes sense. Paige always said she’d leave Jar Island after Rennie graduated. The only reason she stayed this long was because Rennie begged her.

“I’m out of here before the end of the month. Rick wants me to go live with him. I can’t stay on this island, not without my girl. There’s nothing left for me here.” Paige wipes her eyes, and in a dull voice she says, “You should take a look around Ren’s room, see if there’s anything you want to keep of hers as a memento. Like maybe that necklace you gave her. I would have buried her in it, but—” She breaks down and starts to cry, and holds her arms out to me, so I go to her. She holds on to me tight. “Stay for dinner, okay?”

I don’t want to. I know that if I say yes to dinner, Paige will push me to spend the night, and I can’t. I can’t wake up in Rennie’s bed alone again. But it’s not about what I can or can’t do. It’s about what I have to do. Being kind to Paige is my penance, a way to right the wrongs I did to Ren. “Sure, I’ll stay,” I say.

I go to the bathroom to call my mom. When I tell her I won’t be home for dinner, it’s clear she doesn’t like it, because she is silent for a minute. Then she says, “Lilli, this is too much for you. You’re only a child yourself. You need to rest.”

I wish I could. But I can’t. I don’t deserve to. So I whisper, “Mommy, this is the least I can do for Rennie. Please.”

She sighs heavily. “Make sure you eat something healthy. And send Paige my love.”

When I come back out, Reeve is in the kitchen on the phone, quietly ordering Chinese takeout. He rubs his temples like he has a headache. “Can you make the General Tso’s extra spicy?” he asks. I know that’s how Paige likes it, how she and Rennie both liked it. Reeve hangs up his phone and gives me a nod. “Hey.”

“I—I thought you’d left.”

“I just got back from taking some of Ren’s furniture over to Goodwill. Paige needs me to help her patch the walls where Rennie hung stuff up, so she doesn’t lose her security deposit.” He looks down at the floor.

There’s an awkward silence between us. It feels like it goes on forever. “Why don’t you go home? I can stay and have dinner with her and you could patch the walls tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he says, and that one word is like a stinger in my heart.

I go find Paige. “Reeve’s heading home, so . . . it’ll just be us for dinner.”

Frowning, she says, “No, he can’t leave.” She hurries into the kitchen, with me trailing behind her. “Don’t leave, Reevie. The food’s already ordered, and I want both my kids with me. I won’t have you for much longer.”

He nods, and I think how tired he looks.

While we wait for the food, Reeve goes into Rennie’s room and starts taking apart a bookshelf. I clear off the kitchen table, wipe it down, and set three places with paper plates and napkins.

The buzzer on Paige’s door isn’t working, so when the delivery guy arrives, she has to run downstairs to pay him. I call to Reeve that the food is here, and when he comes into the kitchen, he looks around for Paige. Then he leans against the table, clears his throat, and says, “Hey, I got into that prep school in Delaware.”

My eyes widen. “What? Are you serious? Benedictine?”

“Yeah. I found out yesterday.”

I beam at him. “Reeve, that’s amazing!” Before I can stop myself, I jump up and give him a hug. At first he feels stiff, and I start to straighten up, to pull away. What am I doing hugging Reeve, in Rennie’s kitchen of all places? But then Reeve pulls me in closer. And I let him.

He inhales deeply, his face buried in my hair. In a low voice he says, “Thanks for your help. I never would have thought to do this on my own.” I get goose bumps all over.

“Forget it,” I say back, and I feel like I’m going to cry. I know this is wrong, so very wrong, but I don’t want to let him go.

Reeve doesn’t want to let me go either. If anything, he pulls me even closer. His arms tighten around my waist, and I drop my head against his chest.

Then I hear a door close, and we spring apart. I spin around, and it’s Paige, walking into the kitchen with a big plastic bag. She has a funny look on her face, and she says flatly, “I think they forgot our egg rolls.”

I quickly walk toward her, take the bag from her hands, and check the receipt stapled to it. My heart is beating super quick. “I can’t tell if you got charged or not.” I try to sound normal, but I know I don’t.

“I probably forgot to order them,” Reeve says. “I’m gonna go get washed up.”

“All right,” Paige says, but she’s not looking at him. She’s looking at me.

Reeve ambles off to the bathroom, and it’s just Paige and me. “Do you want me to call the restaurant and see if they’ll come back with the egg rolls?” I ask.

“Actually, I think I may have lost my appetite.”

Oh no. No, no, no. “Paige, I—”

“I’m going to take another sleeping pill and try to pass out. You should just go home.”

My eyes dart down the hall to where the bathroom door is still closed. Oh my God, why won’t Reeve hurry up and come back out here? He can smooth-talk his way out of anything, but not me. I’m hopeless. I stutter, “Well, i-is there anything you want me to do before I go?”

“Nope. I’m all set.” The words are sharp. She smiles a thin smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks for everything.”

My mouth feels dry. “Sure. Well, I can come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother.”

My stomach knots. “Paige, please. It isn’t what you think.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” There’s the slightest emphasis on the word “me,” and I know who she’s thinking of, and it makes me want to die.