“It’s okay,” I said. “You can trust me, too.”

She stared at me for a second and said, “It was fucked up.”

“It sounds totally fucked up. It’s horrible.”

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about. I mean the night he died. He passed out on the couch and he wouldn’t wake up. I kicked him, and all he did was groan. I took every single bottle. He drank those big handles of vodka. Half gallons. We always had extras, he was afraid of not having enough. I drank a little and poured out the rest. Splashed it on him. I had to wake him up, that’s what I was trying to do. He was out cold and I just kept pouring. I soaked his clothes and the couch cushions with vodka. And the carpet around him. I spilled it everywhere. It got on the walls, the curtains, on the garbage piled up, old newspapers. I knew it was bad, but it was fun, too, like kind of satisfying.”

“Shit. What’d he do?” I asked.

“He didn’t wake up,” she said.

“He was dead?”

“No. He died in the fire,” she said.

“What fire?”

“It lit up really fast. I didn’t expect that, I was only trying to wake him up.”

“You set a fire?”

“I told you it was fucked up. I lit a match, and I ran and hid in our neighbor’s barn and watched. It smelled terrible. I walked all night to the interstate.”

“You killed him?”

“You hate me now,” she said.

“No,” I said. “No, of course not.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Tell me the truth. You hate me.”

“Audrey, you were just a kid. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

But I watched her, wary. She rose from the table, opened a closet door, and pulled out a duffel bag. She shoved in makeup and clothes.

“Come with me,” she said.

She dropped the bag, knelt in front of me, and laid her head in my lap. I petted her hair. Her story broke my heart. I didn’t know what to say. Then I realized that nothing had changed except my knowledge. Nothing had changed for Audrey. She had always lived with this—half an hour ago, five years ago. It would never leave her alone.

“Please,” she said. “We could go to Hawaii.”

“Hawaii sounds cool,” I said.

“We could go there for Danielle. Like, to honor her.”

“For Danielle? What do you mean?” I asked.

“’Cause she never got to. She was gonna move there with the money.”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“The money from the land. From her mom. She was getting a shitload. She was all excited, saying Brandon was right, with that much cash she could quit working, go off somewhere. She went there once and she loved it, she said she could live on the beach and go to massage school or some shit like that.”

“But she fought with Brandon. She didn’t listen to him.”