Winter break passed in a blur for Kate, and not because she was having fun. Ever since she and Victoria had (effectively) broken up, Rachel had been staying longer and appearing more often. It wasn't unusual for Kate to get a day or less, and piecing together her life slipped more and more into just following the calendar on her phone. When her mom yelled or was being soft, or when Lynn insisted that Kate had promised her something, Kate just went along with it to the best of her abilities. The feeling that she was play-acting her own life settled in like a forced smile held for a day of working at the soup kitchen, stiff by the time she could relax.
There was a particularly poignant episode where she took Lynn with her when she went to volunteer one Saturday in early January at the library. Kate liked to read to kids, but . . . today. Today was different.
"But the Boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak.
'Come, boy' she whispered, 'Come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,' said the boy.
'I want a boat that will take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my tree . . . and make a boat' said the tree."
Kate hesitated. The most of the kids in front of her looked enraptured by the reading, but in a few of them, Kate could see her anxiety reflected, especially among the older ones.
She swallowed, then continued.
"'Then you can sail away . . . and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
And made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy . . . but not really."
She had to stop thinking. Stop thinking about the words. Stop thinking about the tree. Just read. The kids just need the words, they just need the story.
"And after a long time, the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,' said the tree,
'But I have nothing left to give you, my apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak for apples' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,' said the tree,
'You cannot swing on them.'
'I am too old to swing on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone," said the tree,
'You cannot climb."
'I am too tired to climb,' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish I could give you something . . . but have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry . . .'
'I don't need much now,' said the boy,
'Just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree,
Straightening herself up as she could,
'Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting.
Come, boy, sit down.
Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree . . . was happy."
Kate hoped her revulsion was buried, that it didn't reach her eyes, just kept her fingers curled into the book's paper, unwilling to turn the last page. The kids looked at her curiously, and she knew they could see through her, even the young ones now.
Kate tried to force the smile back onto her face. "The end," she said, and closed the book.
[Playlist: "Help I'm Alive" - Metric]
The most consistent and most pleasant part of most days for Kate were Rachel's videos. Now that Rachel was staying longer and longer, she was essentially making vlogs and uploading them onto Kate's laptop about once a day. Victoria wasn't talking to them anymore and Chloe would only ever respond with two or three words or an excuse as to why she couldn't hang out, so a lot Rachel's videos started including things like singing. She was finally, actually picking up the violin. Kate wasn't sure if Rachel knew that she wasn't even playing the violin anymore.
Things with Max were . . . weird. Kate knew Rachel was spending more time with her to make sure she didn't flunk and to indulge in their hobbies together, but Kate herself was afraid to be with Max alone anymore. Ever since they went to the diner together a few weeks ago, Kate couldn't suppress the fluttering in her stomach when Max looked at her, or the warmth that crept under her skin when they touched. The videos Rachel left of her singing with Max as guitar accompaniment hurt to watch, but Kate couldn't bring herself to ask Rachel to stop - truthfully, there was little she looked forward to more than watching those videos.
Early on in the second semester, Dana and her boyfriend broke up, and she got more enthusiastic about recruiting girls to come to movie nights. After a lot of nudging, Kate finally told her,
"Look . . . Dana. It's not that I don't want to go. It's just . . . I know Max will be there and . . ."
Dana looked concerned and asked, "Oh, hey, is something up with Max? Did you two have a fight or something?"
Kate shook her head. "No, it's not that. I just . . ."
Kate struggled to finish, and Dana only looked more worried. Kate stared down at her feet until Dana placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Kate, are you okay?"
Dana had strong, almost mesmerizing eye contact. Kate looked at her and tried to lie, to deflect, but it all melted away as she tried to start.
Finally Kate said, "No, I don't think so."
Dana's face pinched with pity, but she didn't say anything.
Kate continued, "I can't do movie night right now."
"Okay."
Dana didn't go away, though. She stood at Kate's doorway while neither of them could think of what to say for a full minute. Kate could feel how much Dana wanted to reach out, but at the same time, Kate had no idea how to take Dana's hand (metaphorically).
Finally, Dana made eye contact again, putting her hands on her hips in a power pose.
"Okay," she said again.
"Okay?" Kate asked, confused.
"Yeah. You don't have to come to movie night with everyone, but you're going to come to movie night with me. We will stay in or go out, watch movies, and bitch about what's bothering us. Okay?"
Kate's instinct was to refuse. "That's . . . that's okay," she said, apologetically. "I . . ."
She was being stupid. She was being obstinate. She kept telling herself, over and over, that if she needed any help she would be a burden, because there were other people needing looking out for right now. But she knew, under that, that she needed to stop pushing everyone away. She needed something that was still hers.
Kate shook her head slowly, as if clearing out her stubbornness. She said, "Actually, yeah. That would be great."
On one of these nights (it was Kate's third time), once they had the movie going (The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug), Dana tilted the screen towards the head of her bed and laid down in the center, behind where Kate was seated. Turning it towards the pillows was a little weird, seeing as it made it a lot harder for Kate to see and Dana was usually aggressively polite about stuff like that. Kate decided not to question it, at least until she realized Dana was looking at her, not the menu screen.
"Do you wanna cuddle?" Dana asked.
Kate's heart skipped a beat. Dana asked it so nonchalant that Kate felt self-conscious for that reaction, and tried to act normal.
"Oh, uh. Yeah sure."
Kate laid down awkwardly, stiff like a log while keeping her head up to look at the screen. Dana reached around her to grab the remote and turn the TV on, which was a lot, but Kate managed to get pretty calm after a few minutes. That was, until Dana decided she needed to get a better view and scooted forward, wrapping her arm around Kate's abdomen. Kate froze, rigid, the warmth of Dana's body a bit too much to handle.
"Um . . . is this okay?" Dana asked, pulling her arm from around Kate.
Kate couldn't see Dana laying the way she was, but Dana's uncertainty filled her with panic. "I - I uh. I dunno. Is this normal?"
Kate turned onto her back while Dana scooted back a little to give her space.
Dana shrugged. "I think so? Does it feel weird? I'm sorry, after last time I just figured-"
'Last time?' There was a 'last time'? Of course there was. They'd been hanging out even more than Kate realized, and Rachel was seeping even into this safe place.
Kate covered half of her face with a hand, embarrassed. "Um . . . uh. Shit. Uh, Dana?"
"Uh, yeah, what - what's up?" Kate was pretty sure she'd never heard Dana so uncomfortable.
Kate spread her fingers enough that she could see Dana between them. "So . . . did you know . . . I'm a lesbian?"
Dana blinked, eyes wide, stupefied. "Um . . ." she replied, her eyes darting around as she thought. Kate's urge to flee grew with every passing second, but she didn't want to bail until she at least got a gauge on how Dana felt. After being around Rachel, Chloe, Max, and Victoria so much, Kate's fear of rejection had only grown alongside her confidence in that label. This hesitation around the topic wasn't just what everyone experienced (Chloe and Max certainly didn't), so the fact that Dana did was all the more significant.
Finally, Dana's eyes came back to Kate's. "No, I didn't know, I'm sorry."
'I'm sorry?' No one had ever said that. What did that even mean?
"Why are you . . . sorry?"
Dana pushed herself upright, better able to look at Kate (and much less close to cuddling her).
Dana shrugged. "Like . . . I didn't realize. I've . . . have I been making you uncomfortable, asking you over to my room and stuff?"
What Dana was trying to say finally clicked to Kate, and both embarrassment and relief flooded her. "Oh! Oh! No, Dana," Kate said, pulling up herself so they could sit opposite of each other. "This has been great, and you haven't been making me uncomfortable, I just . . ." Kate ran a hand through her hair, stressed at trying to clarify so much.
"Um. I've been messing up some of my friendships by . . . having feelings." Those definitely weren't the right words for what she was trying to say, but Dana seemed to pick it up anyway.
"Wait . . . is this what's going on with Max? I know you've been like, majorly hot and cold with her and-" Dana blinked, stumbling upon (almost) the truth. "Max is gay too, yeah? And you . . . like her."
Kate nodded. She liked that Dana got it, and got it without Kate having to explain everything. But there was this thing Dana did where she saw right through everything, and it made Kate feel exposed. She hadn't even really had a chance to bullshit her way out of this. It was admirable, but it made Kate feel less in control of what Dana did and did not know.
Dana paused for a second, still thinking. Then, "Does she not like you back?"
Kate shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to know."
Dana tilted her head curiously, but then something seemed to click. "It's not okay to be gay in your church, is it?"
Kate hadn't actually been thinking of it in those terms for a long time now. Avoiding her feelings for Max was just what she had to do. Their friendship was precious, but Kate knew that her touch could break it. She couldn't be somebody good for Max. And she was not about to start having these feelings about Dana (but she felt too weak to not, being so close).
Still, Dana wasn't wrong. "I mean . . . as long as you don't act on it . . . it's . . ."
Pity returned to Dana's face. "I get it." Pause. "I mean, I don't know what you're dealing with, personally, but . . . I know what it's like to believe in something that at the same time doesn't feel right for you."
Kate blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
"So, um," Dana sat up straight, mulling over her words, lips pinched into a thin line. "Uh . . . shit. Could you . . . keep a secret?"
"Of course," Kate replied. She was getting good at keeping secrets - and it wasn't hard when Rachel wouldn't remember it.
Dana scratched her head, still thinking. Then she said, "So . . . a couple months ago. I, uh, I had an abortion." Her eyes flicked up to Kate, whose face softened from anxiety to sympathy. "And . . . look. I don't go to church anymore, and I don't really . . . believe in a lot of that stuff, anyway. But when I found out I was pregnant, I just . . . went through so much stuff on like, the inception of the human soul, and what happens to babies that are never born, and all this stuff. And in the end, I thought that maybe all that stuff was true. I didn't have a reason not to believe it, I guess . . ."
"Dana," Kate started to protest, "you don't have to tell me-"
"I know, Kate," she said, smiling weakly.
After a pause, Kate nodded, and Dana continued.
"But despite all that, when I thought about what this would do to me, and what me being a mom or putting it up for adoption would do to it. Well. I couldn't go through with that. I didn't feel like I had the right to . . . terminate . . . my pregnancy. But I did it anyway. Because my beliefs, Kate? They don't mean anything if they're going to make the world a worse place."
Kate didn't understand what Dana was trying to tell her. Dana barely seemed to know what she was trying to tell her. But Kate still felt like she was on the edge of something, like if she could just figure this out, things would be better, somehow. Easier.
"What are you trying to say?" Kate asked.
Dana tapped her fingers together while she thought. Kate had never seen her struggle so much to find her words, but she'd also never seen her be this honest, either. Something about their friendship was changing in this conversation.
Dana said, "I guess I'm saying: You don't have to give up your beliefs to choose something that would make you happy. I know things with Max might not be right for you, and this all might not matter right now, but I hope . . . that making the world a better place comes before what your church says. And that includes you."
Kate still didn't understand, but she found herself tearing up anyway. "But I can't have it both ways," she said, wiping the tears away with her index finger. "My faith, my family - they say that being obedient to God cannot exist alongside being gay. And the people that I'm . . . attracted to," Kate winced, thoughts of Victoria, Max, Chloe, even Rachel filling her mind, "They don't get it either. Faith to them is always something holding you back, keeping you down. But without it I'm just . . ." Kate winced, pain and tears rising and blinding her for a second. She buried her face in her hands, waiting to feel in control again.
Dana waited patiently until Kate could speak again.
"I feel lost," Kate said. "I'm supposed to be a daughter of God and a lesbian, but I feel like I'm just faking them both. I feel fake and I feel empty. Nothing feels right."
"Kate?"
Dana offered out her hand. Kate hesitated, then took it, and Dana scooted a little closer.
"Maybe . . . maybe you need to ask for some patience. And some trust."
Kate shook her head, confused. "Ask who?"
Dana shrugged, but said, "Like, God. And the girls you wanna be with who don't get it. Maybe you need some space to figure out what's right without feeling like you'll be rejected if you get it wrong."
That just sounded absurd, but Dana sounded so sincere. "I don't know how." She swallowed and said, "I don't feel like I'm allowed that."
Now Dana seemed, for once, kind of upset. She gripped Kate's hand and looked her in the eye and said, "Well, maybe, if God and the gays can't figure out how to make space for you to be happy, maybe they're the ones fucking up."
Dana sounded so pissed and so sincere that Kate just kind of choked on a laugh. "I'm not sure it works that way," Kate replied.
Dana looked relieved that she made Kate laugh, and answered, "Well, it should be. You deserve some trust. You deserve to be happy. And I will personally fight-" Dana pulled up the short sleeves of her t-shirt and flexed her bicep, which was very cute if nothing else, "-anyone who says otherwise."
That made Kate laugh some more. "Oh, you'll fight God and the gays? Just for me?"
Dana nodded. "You're a gay Christian girl, Kate, and you should just get to be that. I've seen you in Gov; wouldn't you fight someone who told me I couldn't have an abortion because God would condemn me if I did?"
Kate nodded back. "Of course. I don't like people who dress up their misogyny as religion."
"See!" Dana practically shouted. They both laughed, keeping their hands entwined.
When they settled down some, Dana said more softly, "I know I can't really fix anything. But I think Max or whoever can learn to deal with God. And I think God can do the same, if it means making a world where you get to be happy."
There were complications, of course, that Dana didn't and couldn't know about. Dana had no certainty of some life after death. Dana didn't know how little control Kate really had over the direction of her life. And the idea that anyone, no matter how much they cared about her, would actually be willing to be flexible for her sake seemed impossible to her, no matter how much Dana insisted that they would. But Dana was the first flesh-and-blood person to tell her she deserved that. That she wouldn't have to give one of these things up. And that was worth something.
Kate scooted forward on the bed and let go of Dana's hand to hug her. Dana pulled her into a hug so tight she practically crushed Kate's ribs, but it felt good. It was a touch that felt good and didn't scare her.
As they finished hugging, Kate said, "You're a good friend, Dana."
Dana shook her head. "Nah, I'm just really salty when people aren't understanding."
"Which makes you a good friend."
Dana smiled, abashed. "Well. Thanks."
Kate hardened her gaze dramatically. "And I will fight anyone who shames you or anyone for having an abortion. I will beat them up in a Wendy's parking lot with my bare hands."
"Wow, so you're like, butch?" Dana asked, quirking her eyebrows.
Kate mocked shock. Then she paused. Her eyes narrowed as she considered.
Dana giggled, "That wasn't supposed to be a serious question."
"Could I pull it off? Like, in a 1950's lesbian bar scene way I'm like . . . definitely butch leaning."
Dana was the one looking shocked now. "That'd be . . . hot, kinda."
Kate pretended to not flush and to just take that like a joke, but that mostly meant turning away from Dana so she couldn't see her blush. "Let's just watch the movie," she said, laying back down.
Dana reached over her and grabbed the remote again, hitting play.
After a few minutes, Kate said, "And, uh . . . if you still wanted to cuddle, I'd be up for that. I promise I won't fall in love with you."
Dana laughed, and said, "Okay, sure," but dropped down to her side and wrapped an arm around Kate. It was still warm, and soft, and nice, but this time Kate didn't panic (even if she hadn't quite gotten over the 'that'd be hot' comment, and probably wouldn't anytime soon).
Kate awoke one night thanks to her phone buzzing underneath her pillow, assuming that she had just started dozing off to sleep. When she opened her phone to the lock screen, however, she realized she'd lost 4 hours - and 3 days. Saturday, February 15. Slipping into Rachel was so easy now, it was easy to miss that it had even happened. It took her another moment to even recognize who had texted her, as she wasn't familiar with getting messages from him.
Nathan: I need to talk to you
Nathan: now. Wake up.
God, what? Rachel even talks to Nathan?
Kate: why?
Kate clicked over to her camera roll to see if there were videos from Rachel. There were eight from her missing days, so she just started from the top, hoping there would be answers in there.
Nathan: Rachel.
Kate just stared until the preview disappeared, unsure how to respond. Did he know something about her? Why tell Kate?
Nathan: don't play dumb.
Nathan: I'll be at the tobanga to talk
He couldn't know, could he? There was no way that Rachel would tell him of all people. But she couldn't ignore something like this.
She threw on a hoodie and crept out of her room at 2am.
Nathan stood behind the Tobanga smoking, not even turning to acknowledge Kate. The air was frigid in the early morning, and even in the darkness she could see a plume of mist every time she exhaled. Even with how curious she was, were they any further and less visible from the dorms, she probably would have said no to this whole thing.
When she finally stood in front of him, hands in her hoodie pocket, he finally looked her over. Then, digging into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a cigarette. "Wanna smoke?"
She shook her head no, and he stuffed it back into the container.
They sat in silence for a long while as he smoked, apparently more caught up with trying to shape the smoke than paying attention to this spooky meeting he'd arranged.
"Why'd you call me out here, Nathan? In the middle of the night."
He turned to look up at the moon, then side-eyed her as he smoked. He glanced up and down her body real quick, then returned his attention to the moon.
"I know what you are," he said, pausing on his cigarette. There wasn't much left of it, but after a second he just put it back in his mouth.
That gave her chills, whether it made sense or not, but she tried to play it off. "Oh, you got me," she said, holding her hands out to her sides to indicate spookiness, "I'm a vampire."
Nathan just rolled his eyes. "Not like that, dumbass." He finished the cigarette and flicked it away. Kate kept her eyes trained on it, in case the smolder caught on the grass. "Plus, I think it would be more appropriate to call you a zombie."
That just pissed her off. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "What's your problem, Nathan? What do you want?"
"Problem?" he asked. He turned to look straight at Kate, confused. "No . . . dude. I missed you."
The change in tone caught Kate off-guard. She'd never heard Nathan speak softly, nevermind fondly. "Nathan, what are you . . ."
He shook his head. "No, don't play dumb. Please, Rachel, I'm so glad to see you again."
And before she knew how to respond, he took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around Kate's shoulders, hugging her loosely. She froze in place, not sure what to do, not sure what to say. How could he know? How could he possibly know?
"I thought I'd never see you again," he said without letting go. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Panic rose in Kate's chest suddenly. A shiver ran up her spine that somehow carried on into her brain. She felt dizzy, disoriented, scared . . . and she could feel something. Something like memory, or instinct, telling her things she knew but could not know, things that did not belong to her. She got the feeling that the things she could see were not from her eyes, and the things she could feel didn't come from her skin. Everything about her body felt like she was observing from a distance, but when she tried to move or think, everything still worked the same . . . the body she moved just didn't belong to her.
Kate shoved Nathan back hard and he stumbled. She was so angry and so confused, scared and alone. "Don't touch me," she spat.
Nathan didn't try to reach out to her again, but he looked hurt. "Rachel, I know it's you, why are you-"
"You were there . . ." Kate said, taking a step forward. It was rushing in all at once, these feelings, memories that didn't belong to her, a confused blur that filled her with dread and rage. "You were there when she died."
His eyes opened wide, and he started to backpedal to match her walk forward. "Kate?" he asked.
She caught up with him though, and shoved him back harder. He stumbled and nearly fell, but caught himself on the Tobanga. He looked terrified, but Kate could barely notice, the things in her mind were blurry and blinding.
Kate could feel something spreading, filling her veins like anesthesia, her limbs feeling numb, barely connected to her at all. "You hurt her." Her hand raised without her permission, "You killed me!" she said as she swung for his face. He ducked, and her hand smashed into the Tobanga. Her knuckles were scraped and bleeding but the pain barely registered, as if it were a memory.
Kate's other hand was still listening to her, though, and she reached down and knotted her fingers in his hair.
"Kate, I-" Kate smashed her bloody fist into his face and he dropped to the ground.
He killed Rachel. He was there. I can feel him.
Kate felt like her lungs were giving out, but it didn't slow her down. Kate was ready to smash her shoe into his face, but he held his hands over his face. He wasn't fighting, and pity surged through her - not enough to match the rage, but enough to slow it down.
"I didn't! I didn't do it!"
Kate was breathing heavily. Her hands were balled into fists, numb, someone else's. She had one hand, no hands, four hands, and they were all as rigid and unmoving as she was.
"You were there," Kate said, revolted, condemning.
"I know," he said, dropping his hands enough to look up at her. "I know. But I didn't hurt you. I didn't kill her."
Nothing was making sense. Everything in her brain screamed at her that he did it, that it was all his fault, but at the same time she believed him.
Kate trembled from the effort of holding herself still. "What did you do? Why does she think you did it?"
Nathan lowered his hands further. After she didn't exploit his vulnerability, he pushed himself up, sitting against the Tobanga. He sighed, checking his nose to see if it was broken (it wasn't). Then, he pulled out his lighter and another cigarette. Even now, he was willing to test her patience.
After he'd taken one long drag he said, "I guess she blames me. That's . . . I guess that's something we have in common."
Rachel was pissed. Just sitting still hurt. Even though she wasn't trying to fight, she still wanted control, and Kate had no idea what would happen if she ceded it.
"Nathan," she said, "tell me what happened right now. I can't protect you forever."
He looked up with dumb bewilderment, then said, "Oh."
He took another drag from his cigarette before beginning. "Okay. So . . . Rachel was always sort of a party fiend, yeah? She was everywhere, and she was always loaded, but a few years back, there was some stuff she just wouldn't risk. The big one was heroin, just when it was coming big into the Bay. But, Rachel . . ." Nathan trailed off wistfully, another drag. "Well, Rachel started dealing back in junior year. She even helped get me in good with her distributor. Or, should I say her boytoy."
"You're talking about Frank?" Kate asked. There was some poison in her lungs, reaching up to her throat, trying to make her scream 'Stop! Stop!', but it was only getting easier to fight.
Nathan nodded. "Yeah. Frank. Frank was there when her mom died, and he didn't want her to touch the stuff. But . . . I. I don't know how she convinced him, but they both started using. And I guess everything got kinda fucky from there."
Nathan paused for a second to keep smoking, and tears began to roll down Kate's cheeks. She didn't know why she was crying.
"Eventually, they broke up, and she couldn't get heroin from him anymore. She came to me, and asked me to start dealing more - helped me expand my network outside of the school. I was making a lot more money . . . so I set aside some for her. We'd get high together. And . . . I guess. I guess it got pretty bad."
Kate crouched down across from Nathan, stuffing her hands in her hoodie again. She could still feel Rachel, but she was like a tingle in the fingertips, the tightness in Kate's throat.
Nathan continued, "So, her dad got pissed. I mean, a bunch of times, and she got sent to rehab. Got clean. Said she was going to turn over a new leaf, or whatever. And then she called me up . . . to hang, you know."
Nathan held his jaw in his hand, fingers over his lips. The faraway look in his eye was complete - he barely registered Kate crouching in front of him.
"I guess . . . I guess we messed up the dose. Or her body couldn't take it now that she was clean, or . . . something. She . . . choked, kinda, and she stopped breathing. I . . . I don't even know how long it took me to notice, but she was gone when I did."
Kate wanted to vomit. She'd known Rachel was dead this whole time, but knowing what happened . . . it hurt. It hurt everywhere.
"What did you do?" Kate asked, a whisper.
"I freaked," he said. "I thought I'd be blamed for what happened, because I bought the heroin . . . so I covered it up. I buried her. I hid everything."
Kate looked down at the ground between them. Rachel was done fighting her. She couldn't even make her cry anymore. She said, "How did you know? About me? About Rachel."
She could see he was close to crying, looking back up at the sky to avoid looking at her. "It was the weirdest fucking thing," he said. "We were at the same party. You were there with some people I didn't know . . . and you came and found me. Said you wanted to buy some party favors. But your voice . . . it wasn't anything like your voice. I've heard your voice. But it was just Rachel. Clear as could be. I knew I was fucked up but . . . I was absolutely sure. So I broke into your room."
Her eyes widened with alarm, but this barely seemed of note to him as he kept talking, "And I found her student file. And pictures . . . a lot of pictures of you, and Caulfield, and Rachel's old dyke girlfriend. I found those old bracelets Rachel was so obsessed with making but never . . . doing anything with. And I just knew. I knew you had to be her, somehow." He paused. "Guess I was half right."
There was silence between them for a minute while he kept smoking.
Finally, she said. "So, I've got one more question for you, Nathan."
He looked down at her finally and hummed, "Hmm?"
"Where is she?"
As Nathan and Kate pulled up to American Rust, Rachel's dread was returning in full force, but Kate managed to hold it back enough to stay in control.
They didn't have a shovel, but Nathan insisted he'd be able to find the one he picked up from the junk yard when he buried Rachel in the first place. Admittedly, he'd chucked it into the nearby husk of an old motor boat, but at least they knew it hadn't gone anywhere. It only took them a minute to find the boat, and another few minutes of awkwardly figuring out how Nathan could boost Kate up to get inside until they just settled on dragging over an old oil bin. Kate's upper body strength was close to nothing, though, so she was stuck half-way into the thing, unable to pull her legs up with the rest of her until Nathan got on the barrel himself and pushed her feet up. The shovel itself was rusted to hell and Kate barely wanted to touch the handle (the wood was so splintered and warped from years out in the elements), but she tossed it to the ground and slowly dropped back down after it.
They wandered about for a short while in the dark, trying to light the way with their phones, until Nathan finally noticed a sign half-buried in the earth.
"Fuck," he said, "She's there."
Kate's heart pounded in her chest. "Are you sure?" she asked, but she knew it was true.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Nathan hesitated as they stood over the spot, hovering the shovel over the earth like he was judging the soil for just the right spot.
"I . . . uh. I didn't bury her that deep," he explained. "I don't want to . . ."
"I get it," Kate said. "Just drive it shallow, then."
Nathan nodded, and started digging.
It was slow going with how careful he was being, and after five minutes Kate felt like she'd been standing in the cold looking for a dead body for half an hour. Even as she tried to remain calm, Rachel had been stuck at the crescendo of fear and denial since they started, like Kate was stuck watching a psychological thriller of herself in third person.
Eventually, Nathan hit something that resisted, and stopped. "That's gotta be her," he said.
Kate crouched, looking at the spot where the shovel had just been. It was just dirt like the rest, but an inch below, Kate knew what they would find. In her mind's eye, the Rachel they would find was still Rachel, the beautiful girl with golden hair, dressed in plaid or a crop top like Arcadia Bay in winter was no different than the California coast. The figure she imagined wasn't alive, but so peaceful she could be sleeping, smooth, carved like marble.
As they started scooping away the dirt with their hands, that's not what they found, of course. The first thing Kate found was a scrap of fabric, sheer cotton barely held together from the holes that had been eaten through it. At that point, she expected rot, grisly decomposition, A Corpse.
She didn't get either. Nathan's burial had been hasty and Rachel's body hadn't been protected in any way. The skeleton wasn't clean in the way you come to imagine skeletons from the anatomical models of classrooms, but the flesh was gone, leaving nothing but dirt, mud, and slick grime coating bone.
This was what remained of Rachel Amber: jeans tough enough they hadn't been worth eating through in most spots, the tatters of layered shirts, and hollow sockets where her bright eyes had once been.
"I'll call in the tip," Nathan said.
It didn't reach Kate. She sat on her knees, transfixed, unable to make this picture compatible with the images in her head - Rachel, vibrant, alive, beautiful; The Corpse, mushy, rotting, repulsive. But Kate felt nothing that told her this had ever been a person at all, nevermind Rachel Amber.
"Hello."
"I'm calling about a missing person's case in Tillamook County."
"The name is Rachel Amber. She is at American Rust, a junk yard southeast of Arcadia Bay."
Kate's body was trembling. She felt sick, so sick. Her hands and feet were numb and her head was spinning, and for a terrifying moment, she thought she was about to faint over the hole they'd dug.
Then, all at once, the feeling vanished. Kate took huge, gasping breaths as she stood on all fours, sensation returning to her body, clarity back into her head.
"Are you - are you okay?" Nathan asked, his hand over the phone receiver.
Tears ran down Kate's face as she realized what happened. "She's gone," she whimpered, too quiet for Nathan to hear. "Rachel's gone."
For a long minute, Nathan's face was frozen with fear, looking down at Kate. Eventually, though, he had to return to the phone call.
"She died of a heroin overdose."
"I have to go."
"No, that's okay. I don't want to check the status later."
"Goodbye."
He just stood there while Kate fell to pieces at first. Once too much time had passed, though, he started to get anxious.
"Kate," he said. "We have to go."
She didn't listen.
"Kate," he said again, grabbing her by the shoulder. "We have to go. We should get cleaned up before anyone sees us in the morning."
Kate's fingers were laced together in silent prayer, and she would not be moved, not yet.
Please, Rachel, don't go.
We can't lose you a second time. Chloe, Max, Dana, me . . . even Nathan. Please don't leave us alone.
Please don't leave me.
It was no use. Rachel was gone.
It would be a long time until Kate saw her again.
