“I keep telling everyone I’m okay. But the truth is, I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.” Her voice broke for a moment, and she paused. “I’m just glad it’s all over. Until now I was so scared I couldn’t really grieve for her.”

Thayer reached out and hugged her close.

“Thank you, for what you did for her,” he whispered.

“Thayer,” I whispered, close to his ear. For a moment I imagined I could feel the heat from his body, the softness of his skin. “I will always love you. But we both have to move on. I want you to be happy. I want you to live.”

Tears glistened in his eyes. He rested his head on Emma’s scalp. “Good-bye,” he whispered. Emma didn’t have to ask who he was talking to.

37 - Good-Bye

37

GOOD-BYE

The next afternoon, Emma stood at the mirror of Sutton and Laurel’s shared bathroom with a tube of lip gloss in one hand, staring into her own marine-blue eyes. It was still surreal, to look in the mirror and see herself. She’d been someone else for so long. And after everything she’d been through, she wasn’t quite sure who her real self was anymore.

Earlier that morning they’d all gone to the farmers’ market to pick out a Christmas tree together. Now she could hear Mrs. Mercer and Grandma Mercer in the living room downstairs, rearranging the furniture to make room for the decorations. Overhead, Mr. Mercer and Laurel’s footsteps creaked in the attic as they retrieved boxes of ornaments. All day a gentle quiet had permeated the house—not an awkward silence but a peaceful one. It was the quiet of wounds starting to heal, of deep sadness that needed room to breathe.

Emma’s eyes darted to the picture postcard she’d slid into the corner of the mirror, alongside all the photos of Sutton’s friends and the concert tickets and the fashion magazine clippings her twin had hung there. The postcard had a photo of the Alamo at sunset, and said GREETINGS FROM SAN ANTONIO in a blocky font. On the back, a scratchy, untidy hand had scrawled only I’m doing okay. —B. It had arrived the day before, addressed to Mr. Mercer. He’d left it by Emma’s plate at the breakfast table.