Didi
It’s like being in the heart of a riot. Zac grips my hand and tugs me along behind him, past Rayban-wearing security guards and a woman in a ballgown clutching a clipboard, and what sounds like a stadium of screaming teenage girls.
On television premieres always look so glamorous, but in reality it’s like being an animal at the zoo with people poking sharpened sticks through the bars. It’s breathtakingly terrifying.
“Smile,” Zac whispers under his breath as he pulls us to a stop in front of a bristling forest of microphones and cameras.
I force a smile, blinking in the dazzling glare of lights. I try to remember what Jessa told me about how to stand so I look good on camera. I’m wearing so much makeup I feel like a clown, but Zac’s makeup person said it was necessary so I didn’t look washed out in the photographs.
“Is this your girlfriend, Zac?” someone in the press pen shouts out, louder than the others.
I hear Zac laugh and then deflect the question by answering another about his role in the movie. He runs a hand self-consciously through his hair, styled just so. His other arm comes around my waist, helpfully anchoring me, because my legs have started to shake.
“What are you wearing?”
Zac turns to me and nods encouragingly. Oh. They’re asking me. I snap to. “Um, a dress,” I mumble.
Laughter. I can’t see who’s laughing, though, as everyone is cast in shadow, thanks to the floodlights.
“Who’s the designer?”
Zac’s assistant steps in with the answer.
“Relax,” whispers Zac. “You look beautiful. Let’s go,” he says to me under his breath. “The movie’s about to start.” He waves at the photographers and starts walking back along the red carpet to the theater entrance, past giant posters of himself.
We take our seats in the front row, and Zac pulls my hand into his. His palm is clammy. He’s nervous. He turns and smiles at me, and I feel a twinge in my heart. A Walker-twinge as I’ve started to call them. I brush it aside. I’m with Zac now. And Walker’s with the girl I thought was Dodds’s girlfriend. I figured out that’s where I knew her from—the photograph Dodds had on his nightstand. He must have taken it. It was literally staring me in the face, and I never realized. I wonder if Sanchez and Dodds and José knew all along and were laughing behind my back.
It’s been two months since I saw Walker. I’ve made my Facebook account private. I had to after it became public that I was dating Zac. There are a lot of crazy people out there with no filter and no boundaries.
School started back up, so I’ve been throwing myself into that. In a hugely ironic turn, we’ve been studying repressed emotions.
I still haven’t been back to the center, or spoken to my mom or dad, though they’re both peppering my phone daily with calls and texts. I texted them both back to tell them that I’m busy and need some time to work through my feelings, and since then they’ve been respecting my need for space.
My mom wants to meet me to explain, but I’m not ready to hear her explanations, and while my dad never reported what happened with Walker and me so I’m still officially a PhD student, I’m still too embarrassed to face him. I know I have to soon, though. Jessa won’t let up about it. But the truth is, I’ve needed the time to process what happened to Dodds, and my role in his death. I have some inkling of what Walker was feeling now when he struggled to forgive himself over Lutter and Bailey.
The movie has started, and I try to push all those thoughts away and focus on the screen, though seeing Zac wearing a soldier’s uniform makes me think about Walker. I spend the whole movie wrapped up in thoughts about him, wondering what he’s doing at this moment, thinking about him and Miranda. Are they married yet? Are they on honeymoon? Is he happy? I hate myself for thinking about him, for not being able to let him go, for torturing myself with my memories.
I glance over at Zac. Why don’t I feel the same way about him that I do about Walker? Why am I still in love with someone who doesn’t love me, who never loved me? I scream silently at myself in frustration. Zac is my future now. I link my fingers through his and squeeze, and he squeezes back.
When the credits roll, Zac leans over and kisses me on the cheek.
“What did you think?” he asks.
“You were amazing,” I say, forcing a smile, praying he doesn’t start asking me questions about the plot because I have no idea what the movie was about.
We walk out into the lobby to smatterings of applause and more flashlights going off. My phone buzzes. Thinking it must me my mom again, I ignore it, but Zac is busy signing autographs so I pull it out of my handbag and decide to check it. Maybe it’s time I did speak to my mom.
It’s not from my mom. It’s from Isaac Walker. A message. I open it.
There’s a photograph attached.