Page 171 of The Storm

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I know how much that car meant to you.”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t actually as difficult to let it go as I figured it’d be. I guess I built it up in my head as a way bigger thing than it actually was. Turns out I don’t need the car to keep the memory of Mom alive.”

I stop breathing altogether. This is dangerous territory. Painful territory. Neither of us has mentioned our families. I wouldn’t know what to say. I still don’t know what to feel most days.

I’ve just stuffed our whole history into a box and tucked that box far, far away in my mind and ignored it’s there for the past six years.

Well, now it’s suddenly pushed into the middle of my living room, and maybe the lid is still shut. But the box is there. In full view. And I know what’s inside it.

“How are your parents?” he asks.

I guess we’re prying that sucker open right here and now.

Nick’s voice is extremely measured, and he doesn’t look at me, but his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. I stuff my hands under my thighs and look out the window into the darkness.

“Dad’s still painting. He sometimes visits when he’s on the West Coast. Not too often, but…” My voice dies off. Silence descends. I clear my throat. “He’s gotten really into traveling. And finding himself or something. He’s supposed to go on a wilderness expedition in Alaska this fall to become one with nature.”

“August never gave me the impression of somebody who’s excessively into nature,” Nick says in that same measured voice.

“Yeah, no. Those aren’t exactly real ‘everything you need in one huge backpack, make your own fire, poop into a hole in the woods’ types of things. It’s more like pretending you’re in the wilderness for a few hours before taking the ATV back to the hotel.”

“Okay,thatI can picture,” Nick says, and we both laugh.

Well. We’ve revisited the past. Time to close the box and push it far out of sight and?—

“What about Liz?”

I press my lips together so I won’t sigh out loud. I stare out the window so hard I start imagining shapes in the darkness.

And then I’ve suddenly been quiet for a really long time, so it feels like I should say something, and has enough time passed to change the topic?

“Do you think it will start to get warmer now?” I wince as soon as the words leave my lips. This is more than pathetic.

Nick doesn’t say anything.

“It’s high time, honestly,” I continue. “I didn’t remember it was so cold here.”

“What are you doing, Blue?” Nick asks.

Keeping the lid shut.

I sigh. We’re in Boston again. Streetlights fly past the windows as he drives us through the midnight streets.

I clamp my mouth shut.

Sit on the lid.

Put my full weight on it.

Instead of driving me home, he parks in front of his own building. We both get out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say. “Friend.”

It’ll do me good to remind myself of that.

“Blue,” he says as he rounds the car.

My shoulders drop on a sigh.