Chapter 15
"No one knows what happened. She's just… gone."
Vera's voice grew quieter as she finished. The palms of her hands had grown sweaty in the short amount of time it took to tell them what she had been told. But she left out the part about Mrs. Connor's accusations and breakdown; she didn't want her friends to worry more when she had just told them about Jane, and she surmised it wouldn't be hard for one to imagine a mother's response when she found out her child was dead. She risked a quick glance at her friends, both of whom had grown very still and very quiet as they watched her.
"Oh my God," Greta whispered when it was apparent Vera had nothing more to say, and from beside her James blew out a breath, leaning back against the bench and looking straight ahead. Both had an unfocused look in their eyes and wore blank expressions, though their brows were both creased ever so slightly, as though their brains were trying to properly process the new information and respond accordingly.
Vera settled for looking down at her hands while she let the cousins mull over what she had just revealed, letting herself suddenly become intensely interested in how they fit together as her fingers interlaced.
"How are you, Vera?" James broke from his thoughts first, his words slow – cautious, as if he were choosing them with the utmost care.
It took Vera a moment to realize that he was asking about her own state of being. She had half-expected them to pose more questions about the incident, not necessarily about her. The delay in her reaction gave away as much.
"Actually," Vera ran a hand through her hair, "I'm not really sure." As difficult a subject as this was, she felt it would have been easier to answer questions about the incident and its revealed conclusion than any directed at her as a person.
She wasn't bad, but she was far from good, too. The feelings of guilt and anxiety were still simmering inside her, but she was back to keeping a lid on them for now; her panic attack from the previous night had helped with some of that: a brief moment of escape for her thoughts and emotions. Not enough to completely rid herself of them all, but enough to keep them from boiling over. She wanted her friends to know that she wasn't fine, as any person likely wouldn't be, but she didn't want them to become so concerned about her that she became a patient to fuss over.
"I'm still a little shaken by everything." Her response wasn't a lie. "I didn't want to think the worst after it happened, but I think a part of me already knew the truth. I struggled to accept it, and I'm still struggling. We don't know what really happened to Jane, or where she is. It bothers me, thinking that she could still be out there" she made a sweeping gesture in front of them with her hand "…somewhere. But I'm here. What about me?"
"What about you?" Greta's brow crinkled as she turned to look at Vera, not understanding her implication.
Vera turned briefly to look at Greta, her friend's eyes no doubt reflecting the worry in her own eyes. "I'm here, and she's not. Is part of this –" she hesitated to say the words, "my fault?"
Almost instantly Greta's hand reached out and separated Vera's entwined ones, pulling one into her own lap to hold on to. "No." She spoke the word with conviction. "There is no way any of this is your fault, Vera, and don't you even think about blaming yourself for what happened." She gave Vera's hand a tight squeeze, her eyes remaining firmly in focus, unflinching. "You're a good person, Vera, and you did all you could to help."
"That's right," James chimed in from his cousin's side, with a nod at her in agreement. "Don't let anybody talk you into thinking you did anything wrong. You went out there to help someone, and if something like that makes you a bad person in Derry's eyes, then this place is truly lost. Go out there and show 'em that you're a good person – that they're the ones who are in the wrong."
"Yes, and if anyone says otherwise, we've got your back," Greta affirmed with a quick smile to the dark-haired boy. "What you did was brave and courageous and everything in between. You've got no reason to doubt yourself or your actions."
Once again Vera felt a warmth growing in her chest at her friends' words. She offered Greta's hand a squeeze now in return, her eyes dancing back and forth between the two young adults. Why could she not have grown up with friends like these two back in Georgia? It wasn't that Vera hadn't had any close friends growing up, but something about Greta and James felt different, special. Maybe it had to do with growing up away from the city in a smaller, close-knit community like Derry? Vera had no way of knowing, but she was again thankful that it had been Greta and James that she had first met upon arriving in the small Maine town. No one could get through the trials of life completely on their own, and the presence of the pair in her life right now was definite proof of that, and a proof she hoped wouldn't change.
Vera didn't like that the conversation with her friends had cast a fair amount of gloominess over the trio even after they had moved on to other topics. It seemed unfair to her that every time they met a darker subject should come up, particularly ever since she had come along, and Vera found herself scolding her brain for giving her more unnecessary – and most likely ridiculous – thoughts and ideas to worry about.
Greta and James had already expressed that they liked hanging out with Vera and that it wasn't out of some sort of pity that they stuck around. And none of them were to blame for the bad things that had happened recently. So they could never be truly mad that unpleasant topics had managed to worm their way into their conversations with her as of late, right?
Oh, shut up, Vera, her mind at last threw at her. You're just digging yourself into a hole. Stop fussing over your insecurities and realize that it's all in your head. People are only going to hate you if you mope about all day and can't focus on anything but the negative; no one likes a sad little pessimist. Vera nearly threw her hands up to pull at her hair in frustration at this. She hated how easy it was for her brain to be reasonable and how often its observations of her were correct. If only it were that easy for her to act on that reasoning and make changes in accordance with those observations.
As Vera's mind continued to wage war on itself, she and her friends had removed themselves from their stationary placement on the park bench and headed in the direction of the fairgrounds, the cousins having said something about watching the town workers finish setting up for the following evening. Laughing, the two talked humorously about watching the fairgrounds be put together during a particularly windy week one time a couple years ago, but Vera was only half-listening, intent on making the voice in her head shut up.
Approaching the still-under-construction site of the future fair, Vera let her gaze drift around the colorful game stalls and food stands to the rounding peak of a Ferris wheel. Along the outermost edges of the fairground, men on ladders strung up lights from pole to pole, as though confining the space within with hundreds of tiny fluorescent bulbs and wiring. It would surely be an enticing wonderland of colors in the night, she observed. For now, though, the fair and its appliances had only the light of the steadily-setting sun to illuminate them. Although none of the rides were running, nor any of the stalls packed with prizes or tasty treats, Vera could already imagine the place alive with the town's inhabitants, eagerly making their way around the fair in excitement, expressions of laughter and enjoyment carved into their faces.
In spite of her current anxieties, Vera was unable to hold back the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she imagined what fun the place would bring. With all the troubles that had been plaguing her mind, she really couldn't wait until tomorrow night to come out and spend time with her friends like any ordinary girl her age. She couldn't deny a part of her would no doubt seek to spoil some of the levity by ensuring she continued to feel guilty for having fun while Jane's family was in mourning, but she would be damned if she didn't give herself some sort of brief reprieve for at least one night. Just a few hours was all she asked for, to pretend for a short time that nothing was wrong.
Until then she would continue to worry, but tomorrow she was going to enjoy herself like everyone else.
