Page 101 of Burn Bright

“And this is your expert opinion, seeing as how you’re a master of emotions since you have a total of five of them.” Iimmediately regret my words for how callous they are, but I shove that guilt so far down.

He slowly blinks, but he’s not looking at me like I’m a stranger he doesn’t know. He stares at me with deep, unbridled worry. If I was determined to cast his concern into the ether today, I’m doing a fucking awful job at it.

“I’m not a therapist, you’re right,” he says. “But I think you should see someone other than Dr. Wheeler. I don’t think he’s a good fit for you.”

The truth is, I don’t believe any therapist would be good for me. If my brilliant dad doesn’t understand me, then how the fuck would a professional? I already know I’m being irrational—they don’t need to tell me that.

I fit my ballcap on and rise to my feet. “He’s my choice. You’re going to have to live with it.”

He follows me to my feet. “Something has to change.” He holds out a hand for me to wait because I’m facing the house. “I know you’re hurting?—”

“Something did change,” I combat. “I moved to fucking New York.” My voice rises with my frustration. “Is that not enough?!”

“Ben—”

“You want to reminisce?” I ask him, my chest rising and falling with heavy, uncontrolled breaths. “You remember when I was really little? Remember how Mom said she was going to cut out your lungs in your sleep and you told her she can have them—but it’d be a mistake because she’d miss breathing your air? Iweptin my fucking bed that night for hours thinking my parents were going to murder each other. I called Uncle Ryke so distraught I could barely form words. I wasseven.” Tears try to burn my eyes. “It took me too many years to even understand what my brothers and sisters understood from day one—the exaggerations, the banter, the wit—I am not like all of you. I don’t think like you.”

“You can always talk to Ryke. Just because Winona?—”

“Dad, I can’t do this.” My pulse is out of control. A knot is contracting painfully in my ribs. I am crawling out of my skin, and I wish Harriet were here. I wish I could divert whatever’s rattling me for a second. I want the panic to just fade. “I just need you and everyone else to juststop.” Please.

Let me go.

We both aren’t blinking.

“Tu nous repousses,” he says in a gentle whisper.You’re pushing us away.“Pourquoi?”Why?

I shake my head, about to lie and say I’m not.

I have been distancing myself from everyone, and their biggest triumph in bringing me closer has been me moving in with my brothers. Even that, though, I am one foot out the door.

“Tu n'es pas obligé,” he whispers.You don’t have to.“Nous pouvons t’aider.”We can help you.He reaches out, and partly to pacify him, partly because I crave my dad’s embrace more than even conceivable—I let him draw me into his chest. I grip his shoulder like I’m hanging on to a jagged cliffside, not wanting to let go. Scared to fall. Scared to meet what’s below.

But for their sake, I feel like I eventually have to.Courage.I’ve never lacked the courage to race after the dangerous, terrifying thing. Especially when I know it’ll save someone else.

He hugs me, his hand rising to the back of my skull. The same way that I comforted Audrey at the funeral. I notice it, a subtle similarity between me and him, and my heart skips.

Breathing out the tension in my body, I just hold on to my dad for a long moment. When we pull back, he cups my jaw and nods to me. “It doesn’t matter which direction your mind takes you, you’re still a Cobalt. You’re still my son.”

It almost breaks me.

And for the first time this morning, I cry.

23

HARRIET FISHER

It’s a slow, rainy Sunday night at the End of the World when Ben tells me his pet cockatiel died. The 2002 version ofSpider-Manplays on the oversized projector screen with Tobey Maguire web slinging his way through New York, and Ben rubs a wet rag over the sticky bar counter. He says he’s not crushed by Theodore’s death, and he doesn’t know why. When his childhood bird, Pip-Squeak, passed away, he struggled to leave his bed for seven days straight.

I wish I had the right words to say.

Death isn’t something I’m all too familiar with. I never had a pet growing up. Never had a relationship with my grandparents. Never had a friend or loved one who passed away unexpectedly…or expectedly. I’ve been lucky. But I’m also planning to become a doctor, and death will likely be a large factor in my life.

“Maybe you’re in shock,” I tell him as I slice limes for the dwindling container in the mini fridge under the bar.

“Maybe I’m just checked out,” he replies in a defeated tone. “When I gave Theodore to Audrey, I’d already said goodbye.”

I think about my mom. In my head, I’ve said goodbye to her. I don’t think I’d be devastated if she passed away. “I can understand that. Some goodbyes feel more final than others.”