Chapter Three
On Sunday they drove down to Lake Champlain. Safi called them crazy, going to the beach in New England winter, but Max had always preferred the bleakness of abandoned places. At the Fraenkel Gallery, she once saw Breaking Waves, Pebble Beach by Ansel Adams. You could feel the raw fury of the sea. Standing there by the surf, facing a force so large you couldn't even compare how insignificant you were…Your soul quaked.
They rolled their pants up to their ankles and walked side-by-side in the sand. Gulls screamed overhead. Nobody else existed, not here, not anywhere else in the world.
Max remembered wheeling another Chloe between the breakers.
"Remember Big Sur?" Chloe asked.
On their initial flight out of Arcadia Bay, they had driven north up Big Sur, the highway that spanned California. Max remembered grey skies, plunging coastlines. She had filled an entire album of photos. And four years later they had driven south, in reverse.
"Beautiful," she said.
"There's this national park in Maine I've always wanted to visit."
"My residency's over in another three months."
"Shit. I forgot. What've you got in mind, Max?"
The salty air made Max hungry. They spread a blanket on a flat rock, feasting on egg salad sandwiches with pears and soda. And weed (of course). Chloe sprawled, mottled hair blowing wildly in the seawind, and Max thought how unfair it was that some people just managed to look cool so effortlessly.
"I'm updating my resume," Max said, laying her head across Chloe's abdomen. They formed a cross, staring into a steel sky. "There's a couple of galleries that're looking for photographers. Gonna be hard to get into, though."
"Have you ever considered what your life would've been like if you hadn't saved me?"
"No."
It was unthinkable, it was like imagining a life without your heart or your brain.
Sometimes Max woke up with tears on her pillow, and she only stopped sobbing when she saw Chloe lying beside her on the bed.
A wave crashed, drenching them in light spray. Chloe was silent. Max shivered, wrapping her hoodie tighter around herself. They both got melancholy around this time of year. When the weather turned cold and skies turned grey. When the wind began to have a bite to it. Four weeks ago marked the anniversary of the storm. To Max's supreme pride, they had gone about their normal day.
"Chloe?"
"Just thinking." She sucked in a breath, blew out. "I guess I just don't know why you're sticking with me."
Max sat up, planting her arms around Chloe's sides. "We've talked about this before."
Chloe waved the joint. "I know, I know. It's not that – well, it is, a little, I guess. Every day I wake up to a new realization of how amazing you are. Shit, people write stuff about you in magazines. And I'm just…nobody. Feels like I've fucked up everything in my life except you."
"The only reason I'm here is because you've been there for me. Chloe and Max, forever. Remember?"
"A thousand times," Chloe whispered. She wiped her eyes.
They kissed. Max very, very badly wanted to have sex on the beach but it was too damn cold and they were visible from the road. Shivering, they jogged back to the car, blasting the heat to high. Idly, Chloe flipped on the radio.
"…Loretta with Get a Clue! Special episode today for you guys. I have evidence here – shocking evidence! Six years ago, a student named Maya Okada attended Caledon University…"
Seattle did Chloe good. She had enjoyed seeing Max's parents almost as much as Max had, sobbing as they hugged. Her parents had been surprised when Max towed in the blue-haired girl with tattoos, even more surprised when Chloe introduced herself. Chloe Price? Max's old friend? Oh, you poor thing…
They had nowhere else to go, of course. Chloe's truck had run out of gas in Pinehurst. They left it parked at a strip mall, husked-out lifeless thing, and walked the remaining distance. Chloe almost couldn't bear to leave it, this last link to her family.
"I'm not staying," Chloe said, pacing back and forth across Max's room. She glanced at the photos of Kristen and Fernando. New friends, new school. Over the years Max's guilt had removed all traces of Chloe, stuffed memories into a shoebox in the closet. It was easier after the move. She'd spent more time in Chloe's room than her own.
"We've been back for less than a week," Max said.
"A week! I gotta get out."
"Think about how I feel. I haven't seen my parents in months – "
"Then you stay!" Chloe's armed jittered as she jammed the cigarette to her lips. A habit. She didn't even light it. "Who said you had to go with me? You still have a life here, Max. You still have a home and friends and fucking parents."
"I told you," Max said quietly. "I'm never leaving you again."
"You should've!" Chloe braced the palms of her hands against her eyes, as if trying to squeeze out tears. "You should've let me die. I still don't understand. I've thought about it every second since we've left Arcadia Bay and I don't understand a single goddamn thing. I'm nobody. I'm a fucking loser. Why'd you choose me over all those lives?"
Max remembered that kiss on the cliffside pummeled by the hurricane gale. All the universe hanging onto one decision. Why had she been given this power? What did the world have against Chloe? Dead or crippled in every timeline. Her fingers cranking up the life-ending drug. Maybe whatever deity had granted Max her powers foresaw some grand plan. But she knew the worthlessness of omniscience if she couldn't even save one girl.
If only god existed, so she could stab him in the fucking throat.
Chloe gripped her by the shoulders. "You can still undo it, can't you? Rewind it all. A week, a month, however long it takes! Bring them back. Bring her back!"
Blue eyes gazed into wet blue.
"Even if I could I won't. I'd do it again. A thousand times."
Chloe's tears soaked Max's shirt. Gently, Max held her, burying her face into that blue hair. It's not us who are wrong but the universe.