THE CUT

epilogue

she won't be coming back

Summer has come to an end. Days have become noticeably shorter, but afternoons are still warm and sunny. I spend most of them at the Country Club waiting for Rafe. Now that he's mostly off drugs, he focuses on his golf skills. His swing has gotten a lot better. I don't join him because he usually plays with Topper and Kelce, and I still can't stand Topper.

Ward has laid off Rafe ever since he caused a scene at my house two months ago. He knows that if I or my parents see any mark on Rafe, he'll be in trouble.

We no longer have family dinners with the Camerons. At least not Ward and Rose. Rafe joins me and my parents frequently—more so than he did with his family. We sit beside each other.

Sometimes he slides his hand onto my thigh under the table while my mother is talking, and we both fight back smiles because only we know.

Of course, my parents know about us. And they welcome it. After dinner with Rafe one evening, and he got in his car and went home, my mother grabbed my shoulders, turned my attention from the foyer window, and gushed, "I almost don't recognize him." There was a softness in her voice, but it still scared me.

I asked her what she meant.

She said, "Well, he's just so happy with you. So much..." She squinted her eyes as though she'd find the right word in the air, "lighter," she said, finally. "I never realized how displaced he was. I'm glad he has you." She squeezed my hands.

Sometimes Sarah joins us for dinner. Not when Rafe is there—just because I'm dating her brother, it hasn't made their relationship any easier.

We go up to my room afterward where she grabs a stuffed bear off my shelf that I'd been given as a baby, and we sit on my bed and talk. Since the whole fallout with the Pogues, we've been more honest with each other.

"So, you and my brother?" she said, the first night she came over for dinner by herself.

She looked at me, running her finger over the plastic, black eye of my teddy bear.

I shrugged. I waited for her to say, "I don't get it," or, "I can't believe you kept it from me." I thought she'd call me a liar, and grow mad all over again.

Instead, she said, "He seems different."

Something blossomed inside my chest. I asked her what she meant. I knew what she meant—Rafe moved with more ease, smiled a lot more often, even made jokes sometimes—but I wanted to hear her say it.

"He's happy. I don't think he's ever been this happy. Or, so easy to be around."

I couldn't help myself—I grinned so hard, that my cheeks and jaw hurt.

"It's like, you fixed him or something."

Except, I haven't fixed Rafe. Sure, things are easier for him at home now, which takes a lot of pressure from his shoulders, but everything Ward has put him through still lingers.

He hasn't completely cut out the coke. Only I know this. I caught him snorting some in the bathroom once when I went to go look for him. He stared at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to flip out on him. For a long time, I didn't say anything. I was shocked, but I wasn't surprised. Rafe was addicted—it wouldn't be easy to just stop, cold turkey.

I told him I wasn't angry, although my hands shook with adrenaline. He scooped up the line he hadn't yet snorted, put it in the baggy, and stuffed the baggy in his jeans. I didn't point out that he shouldn't be putting it back in his clothes after I saw it. Instead, I made him promise that he would tell me when he dipped into his stash.

Since then, Rafe has let me know a few times that he "got high with Topper," or he, "took a hit at Kelce's." Each time he's told me, I knew by the waver in his voice that he was nervous about my reaction. I knew yelling at him or punishing him with the silent treatment wouldn't do any good. I didn't want to remind him at all of Ward.

Sometimes, he shows up at my place—in the middle of the day, right before lunch, late at night while my parents are sleeping—and looks for my comfort. His eyes are bloodshot and watery. He doesn't say much, if at all. I let him in, and we go to my room, and I pull him into me. He likes it when I play with his hair. He falls asleep with his ear pressed to my chest, and I wait until he wakes up.

As far as the Pogues are concerned, I haven't seen John B or Pope since that swim in the lake. When I think about it, my fun with them ended like a car flying down a head-end street—fast and then, nothing. Sarah sometimes mentions John B but doesn't give too much detail.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," Sarah had told me.

"Me, too," I'd said.

Kiara, I've seen once at the Country Club when she was waiting for JJ to get off work so she could drive him home. She flashed me a smile, and I waved at her. She saw me meet up with Rafe. I wondered how she felt about it if Sarah had told her that I've miraculously made Rafe better. Sometimes, I still think she might come back to the Kook side of things, but then I see her jewelry or her messy hair up under a bandana, or Sarah tells me Kiara pissed off her parents again, and I realize that she won't be coming back.

I haven't spoken to JJ since he threw being a Kook in my face. If I could, I would ask him why he threw it in my face, but he doesn't make Kiara or Sarah feel bad about it.

"He liked you," is what Sarah said when I asked her this question a while back. For a long time after my fallout with JJ, I couldn't let all my questions go, so I dumped them on her.

When JJ and I started hanging out, I could tell, the way he teased me like a boy in kindergarten. He'd liked me for a while before we became friends. Sometimes, I'm relieved we don't talk anymore because it keeps Rafe in a good mood.

His words still sting. That look on his face; dark, angry eyes, a twisted mouth. It scared me, more so than any look from Rafe. It would probably help to talk about it, to clear the air.

I only ever see JJ when I'm at the Country Club waiting for Rafe, which is where I am now, at mine and Rafe's table by the window. I sip slowly on the drink that he got me from the bar, mostly because I don't want to have to confront JJ—he's been the only bartender working.

Also, I knew Rafe would be upset, me talking to JJ.

He set my drink down in front of me and said, "If you want another one, let me know," which translates to, "Please don't talk to JJ Maybank." And then he, Topper, and Kelce all went out for a round of golf.

It isn't until JJ looks up and sees me do I realize I've been staring.

He waves.

I wave back, and then I turn away.

It's the most interaction we've had in the two months since our fight. I'm startled. I always thought I would be the first one to initiate something between us, although when I wasn't sure. And JJ's acting as though that fight two months ago never happened, but he still won't talk to me.

I'm positive he knows that Rafe and I are together. I've never had the guts to ask Sarah if she's discussed me with them. I'm afraid of her saying no, I'm afraid of her saying yes.

Rafe strides in, sweaty and breathless, but his lips curl into a smile as he weaves through the tables towards me. Even after all this time, my heart jumps at the sight of him.

His smile broadens. He reaches out before he gets to me, and then he slips his arm around my waist and kisses my forehead. He asks me if I'm ready to go.

I nod. I want to get out of here as soon as possible. I don't care where we go.

Rafe slides his hand down my inner arm then grabs my hand tight and guides me through the tables towards the front door. I feel eyes on us, lips moving with whispers of our names, but I don't care. For the first time, I don't care what anyone has to say.

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