The Beginning of After

said, then after a horrible silent moment, “I’m the girl who’s not sure what she wants for herself, remember?” I tried to make my voice sound normal again, and not like I’d just been teetering on the edge of losing my virginity.
    David threw his arm over his face now. Was he embarrassed to look at me, or for me to look at him?
    “Can I want some of it, just not all of it?” I asked.
    He nodded from behind his own arm. “Yes,” he said softly. “Of course you can.” He pulled his arm away and looked at me now with regret. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too far.”
    “I pushed too. It’s been a weird day.”
    “A very weird day.” He paused. “I should go, and leave you alone.”
    David climbed over me out of the bed, grabbed his shirt, and walked slowly out of the room, leaving the door open. I listened to his padded footsteps travel downstairs, the jingle of Masher’s collar as the dog jumped off the couch to greet him. I got up and found my nightshirt, slipped it on along with a pair of sweats and slippers, and then followed. Not because I didn’t want David to be upset, or because I wanted to explain some more, but because I really just needed to be with him.
    Downstairs, David stood in the living room, staring at the Christmas tree all lit up. Nana and I had forgotten to unplug it before we went to bed. Now I was glad we had, because it was lovely.
    David didn’t turn around, but I could tell from the hunch of his shoulders that he knew I was there. “Your Christmas tree is very small,” he said.
    “That’s because it’s alive,” I said, and stepped up beside him. I fought the urge to touch his arm. “I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
    We were silent for a moment, and then David asked, “Have you ever been there? You know . . . the place, where it happened?”
    The spot right before the second light on Route 12. Which I hadn’t driven on since April. “No,” I said. I’d wanted to. Nana had gone twice, but I couldn’t scare up the courage to go with her. The guilt of that tugged at me sometimes, like a debt I had yet to pay back.
    “Neither have I.”
    We watched the tree for a moment, blinking red, green, and white across the wall. Then David turned to me, the hair around his ears still a little sweaty, which made me feel like in some way, we were still connected there.
    He asked, “Feel like taking a ride?”

Chapter Thirty-eight

    S omehow she managed to look good in this , I thought, looking at the zigzag stitches of my mother’s long, wine-colored down coat—one that Nana had inexplicably decided to keep. I’d grabbed it out of the closet because it seemed like it would keep me warm over my nightshirt and sweats, and pulled on a pair of my father’s old duck boots. It was one of those outfits where normally you’d think, I hope I don’t get into an accident looking like this. But I didn’t, because there wasn’t much room for me to think about anything else but where we were going, and besides, the whole topic of accidents was complicated at that particular moment.
    The brakes on the Jaguar screeched a bit as David turned onto Route 12, and he grimaced. “I’m going to have to get those looked at,” he said. It was the first time he’d spoken since we rushed down the frigid driveway and into the car. “It’s a good thing I kept this baby in nice shape. I had no idea my dad would ever see it again.”
    I smiled at him and turned to look out the window, trying hard to stop myself from shivering, even with the heat turned way up. I was finally doing this, and I was petrified.
    Route 12 had always been one of my favorite roads. It was lined with woods on either side, and often, we’d spy deer wandering just yards from the pavement. This is what my family saw , I reminded myself, even though it was all stark and spindly now; back in the spring this landscape was thick, lush. Maybe Toby was looking out the window at these exact trees in the last few minutes he was alive. What were my parents talking about and thinking about as they passed that spot, and that spot, and that one?
    We drove for another minute or so. Just enough time for a car to pick up too much momentum, for someone to get lost in conversation or his own thoughts and not watch the speedometer.
    “I think it’s right up around this bend,” said David, and he began to slow down. I could see, now, that this was where a person could forget about the sharpness of the curve, and the