“With headphones.”
“It’s a commentary on how we are destroying nature.”
“That’s wood, right?” I ask.
Echo rolls her eyes, and I smirk. She hates it when I do this.
“Yes, the artist cut down a tree, used a chainsaw that required gas, and the whole process defeats the purpose.”
“Chainsaw?” These bastards are strange.
“Yes.”
I finish out the glass. “As I said, not enough.”
A couple exits the gallery, and they’re way too loud and way too full of themselves to peer in our direction. While I could give a shit about everyone inside, Echo cares, and the longing in her eyes as she watches them hurts me.
“Want to talk about the stuck-up bitch in there?” I ask.
“Nope.”
Good. Odds are I’d say things that would make Echo cry. “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Echo
Noah and I slept deeply, we slept long, and then we held each other for longer than we should have. Now, checkout is looming.
Cross-legged on the middle of the bed, I cradle my cell and stare at three messages: one new voice mail, one missed call, one new text. Each one from my mom. There’s a pressure inside me—this overwhelming craving to please my mother, to gain her approval—that prevents me from deleting them. The memories don’t help...both the good and the bad.
Mom said she’s on her meds. She said that she’s in control of her life. If that’s true, is she mimicking my father’s parenting style by attempting to dominate my life?
Noah steps out of the bathroom fully dressed, and his hair, still wet from his earlier shower, hangs over his eyes, leaving me unable to read his mood.
“Did you call her?” he asks.
“No.” I pause. “But what if I did?”
Noah shrugs then leans his back against the wall. “Then you did. I don’t claim to understand, but I promised you back in the spring that I’d stand by you. I’m a man of my word.”
He is. He always has been. “But you don’t agree that I should call her.”
“Not my decision to make.”
I shift, uncomfortable that Noah’s not completely on my side. “I’d like to know you support me.”
“I support you.”
“But you don’t approve.”
“You need to stop looking for people’s approval, Echo. That’s only going to lead to hurt.”
My spine straightens. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”
“You asked me to be okay with you contacting the person that tried to kill you. Forgive me for not setting off fireworks. You want to call her, call her. You want to see her, then do it. I’ll hold your hand every step of the way, but I don’t have to like seeing her in your life.”
His words sting, but they’re honest. The phone slides in my clammy hands. “I won’t call her today.”
“Because that’s your decision,” Noah says. “Not because you’re trying to please me.”