The Survivors

Chapter Eight: Twin Falls, pt. 2

Everett walked me to my room.

"Thank you," he said, as I opened the door.

"For what?" I asked.

"For introducing me to a part of myself I've never known," he said.

  I looked down, embarrassed.

"I suppose I owe you a thank you, too, then," I said. Was this really happening? Hadn't it only been a few hours ago I had left this room in a different place, as a different person entirely?

He leaned in and kissed my cheekbone. "I'll seen you soon," he said, taking a few steps backward before finally turning around and walking away. I watched him walk all the way down the hall.

I crept into the room quietly so I wouldn't wake Ginny, but I heard the shower running.

"Sadie? That you?" I heard her call.

"Yeah," I called back. I opened my suitcase and looked for something to wear. I wasn't going to cover myself the way I had the first time I went back to my family. This time I had done them a favor, so I was going to come as myself. Nor had I told Ginny or Adelaide that they should take any precautions. We were going to see my family on our terms.

I picked out tattered but close-fitting jeans, a pair of Reva ballet flats, a coral tank top and a thin sweater and dressed while Ginny was still showering.

I pulled out a curling iron and my makeup bag and went to the sink and mirror outside of the bathroom. I used a washcloth to wipe my face clean, and then I applied my makeup. When I started living in the normal world, makeup was one of the first things I learned how to do, right up there with learning to dress. Looking right was a huge part of passing. Most of my family had never seen a woman wear makeup, but they would today. Regardless of what I did, Ginny could be counted on to be dressed and primped to the nines every day of her life, so I might as well match.

She emerged from the bathroom, one towel around her body, another in her hand, blotting at her bottle-blonde chest-length hair. I was wrapping a brightly colored scarf around my neck, and watching her in the mirror. Her skin was deeper than mine and flawlessly smooth. I imagined her in the California sun, arms and shoulders bare, glistening like the picture of West Coast ease. I tugged at my sleeves, cupping the edges of them in my palms. I would never be that girl, and I had only myself to blame.

  She laughed when she saw the curling iron. "I didn't know that was an option on this journey," she said. "I thought we were packing light."

I shrugged. "That's the nomad lifestyle, kid. Everything I own I have with me on every journey," I said. "You can borrow it if you'd like."

"Done and done," she said. I realized this was one of her catchphrases.

We spent the next hour or so chatting and getting ready like we might have on any other day if we were sisters or roommates. She hadn't asked where I had gone, and I didn't tell her, though I was sure she'd fish it from my mind at some point.

  I had never felt more like a human girl. I had had moments like this before with Corrina, and even a few conversations with girls in my family. But I had never felt like I was among people who understood me, like I was part of a real family. Secrets out. Defenses down. But now I felt a longing to be a part of this family, no matter the cost.

Over breakfast, Mark and Everett decided to come with Ginny and me. She had insinuated that our car was for the younger, hipper crowd. Patrick glared at her when she said it, and I heard a low rumble from his chest. It was that same growl I'd heard from Mark that night on the Natchez Trace.