Chapter 200: Nothing to Forgive
- RAYA -
"I think we’ve finally lost them," Rory says, scanning the crowd passing by the large vendor space with rows and rows of beautiful garments.
I just smile at her, flipping through the dresses. Many of them look like traditional folkloric dresses with ruffles, lace, ribbons, and vibrant colors. These are obviously geared toward tourists who wish to own something distinctive to Costa Rica. These dresses are amazing, but they’re definitely not what I’m looking for.
Hopefully it won’t be too difficult to find something simple and mostly white. It can’t be—everyone we’ve seen so far dresses very modern.
"I should have asked Dex what he’s wearing. Do you think he’s wearing a tux?"
Rory arrives at my side and flips half-heartedly through the dresses, too.
"Great question. Based on his everyday wardrobe, I’m going with no."
I sputter a laugh and elbow her in his defense.
"I’ve seen him in a suit, and let me tell you... it’s breathtaking. Do you think it’s weird that I’m with someone prettier than me? He even has better hair."
Rory scoffs and levels me with a glare. "He is not prettier than you. Are you serious? And you have amazing hair."
"Honestly, if it weren’t for the dreams, I would have never had the confidence to be with him. They prepared me, I guess. Even then, I was still a bumbling, nervous wreck those first few times talking to him—partly because I thought I was going crazy and partly because he was so... beautiful."
I laugh at the memory and myself. It seems like so long ago, but it really wasn’t. Dex and I have gone through years worth of traumas and drama in the short time we’ve been together. It’s been intense.
"I guess it took the car accident to make me not really worry about insecurities as much. There’s no room for it when you’re traumatized and in pain and basically just surprised and grateful you’re alive."
Rory snorts.
My hand pauses from sliding the hangers. That was stupid. Why did I have to say it like that?
"I’m sorry, Roar."
"Why?" Her forehead wrinkles, but she doesn’t stop to look at me. She’s still scanning the garments in front of her.
When I don’t say anything, she blows a long breath out of her mouth like she’s seeking patience.
"I’m not the only one who has been through shit, Raya. You have, too. A lot of it. You can talk to me about it. That’s what I’m here for."
I nod silently and gnaw at my bottom lip.
"I mean, I know I haven’t exactly proven that to be the case. I haven’t been a good sister."
"Yes you have," I frown.
She snorts again. "Oh yeah? When you really needed me–when you were in the hospital after a major freakin surgery and getting hit by a car, I left. I went out of the country with my emotionally absent boyfriend for a week. Then when I needed someone... you invited me to stay with you. You worked from home. You slept with me and... you cried with me."
Her voice breaks, and her hand stops while she squeezes her eyes shut and collects herself.
"Roar..."
When I reach for her arm, she flinches away.
"No." She wipes a few tears before they can get too far. "You don’t get to comfort me for telling the truth. I’m a shitty fucking sister."
"No you’re not! Those were entirely different circumstances."
"The circumstances don’t matter!" When she cuts a look my way, it’s full of regret that I didn’t realize she was holding onto. How can she still be thinking about that? "We should be there for each other regardless. I should have stayed. I should have been there for you like you’ve been for me."
"It was different, Roar. It was meant to happen that way," I argue. "It worked out. Why do you have to punish yourself like this? You don’t deserve it."
"Well you might have forgiven me, but..."
"There was nothing to forgive!"
A woman in the next row stares at me in surprise at the outburst before going back to her browsing.
"There was nothing to forgive," I whisper it fiercely this time, leaning toward Rory and jabbing at the ground with my finger to make a point. "Stop beating yourself up. It feels like forever ago that that happened, and I am totally fine. You are the one who needs caring for right now. That’s why we wanted you here. We all want to help. We love you, Lorelei. Do me a favor and start loving yourself for freakin’ once."
She sucks in a stuttered breath, and I sigh, returning to stare at the dresses. Because I’m angry, and I don’t want her to feel the weight of it if I’m glaring at her.
There’s silence long enough that the heat from my anger dissipates, and I’m able to actually see the dresses when I sift through them rather than merely pretending.
"I’m sorry," Rory mumbles and looks toward the front where bodies are still passing outside. There’s still no sign of Dex or Luciano, and I suppose that probably puts her at ease.
"Did you have another dream?" I ask, desperately wishing to change the subject. I don’t want to argue with her, and I don’t want to ruin the opportunity to enjoy this time with her looking for a wedding dress.
She crosses her arms and doesn’t answer until I glance up.
"Sort of." She shrugs and seems to have trouble swallowing. She wets her lips and finally gulps past what I can only imagine is a lump in her throat.
"What does sort of mean?"
Finally a white dress appears when I slide another vibrant-colored dress to the side, and I pull it out to examine the length of it before presenting it to Rory. She scrunches up her face, which I realize is a mirror of my own expression. This one is a no.
"I did have a nightmare that was... similar," she explains while I slide the dress back into its place.
Rory still hasn’t uncrossed her arms. That’s my hint that she’s in protective mode. I’ve injured her or made her defensive with my outburst, but I can’t bring myself to regret it. Maybe she needs to be scolded once in awhile. This self-pity or self-hatred or guilt or whatever it is can’t go on forever. It’s carving out the beautiful spirit I know is inside of her, and I can’t take it.
I glance at her briefly to assure her that I’m listening, and she does this gesture with her hands even though her folded arms are blocking them.
"It’s... complicated," is all she says.
"No it’s not. Tell me."
She considers this for a moment, following when I reach the end of the row and move to the other side.
"He was there again. Luciano. All of these... demons attacked him. From all sides." It sounds like she tries to chuckle about it—like it was terrifying enough that she has to laugh in order to lighten the weight of that darkness—but the laughter fails, dying on her lips. The hairs on my arms prickle. "He made the most horrible... sounds when it happened. And I was stuck just watching. I couldn’t do anything."
"That sounds awful," I frown.
Rory nods in my periphery.
"They were my demons, Raya."
She starts rubbing her arms, and I wonder if she has goosebumps like me.
I gulp and turn to face her. "It was just a nightmare," I assure her. Or maybe I am assuring myself.
She nods and looks at the dresses again before picking one out and holding it up against the rack. It’s not even white. She’s doing it for a distraction.
"Of course. But, you know... the conversation yesterday..." she mumbles. "It felt like a warning, too. It felt like my fault. Like someone was using me to hurt him."
This time when I reach to touch her arm, she lets me. "They can feel really, really real, but they’re not."
A false smile curves on her face, and she puts the dress back where she found it.
"Right."
"What happened next?" I ask, although I’m not entirely sure I want to know. "Did Luciano have the same one?"
"No," she says quickly, eyes darting around the area. "Nothing else happened. I woke up."
"Maybe you two should sleep together."
"What?" She chuckles, eyes flying wide and finally focusing directly on me. "Why?"
"No, I mean..." I say quickly, "like... in the same bed. Not sex." My eyebrows rise, head tilting to give over to the possibility. "But that might not be the worst thing in the world, you know."
"Yes it would," she immediately counters. "It would be the worst thing in the world."
Rory shakes her head aggressively, cheeks instantly staining pink. And that’s how I know that my sister is just as attracted to Luciano as he is to her. Based on how they have been interacting the past twenty-four hours, I’m not surprised.
Now there’s no doubt in my mind: Luciano and my sister are totally going to end up sleeping together before this vacation is over. I just hope that’s a good thing–like a really good thing.
"I think it is," I mumble to myself with a smirk, feeling a little bit of the anxiety lessen. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense that they are perfect for each other and that these dreams are just trying to draw them closer.
"What?" Rory frowns, eyeing me suspiciously.
"Nothing," I smile–probably too brightly. "Did you bring a dress for the wedding? Or should we look for one for you, too?"
"I have one. I just need some hiking boots while we’re out."
"Hiking boots?" I repeat.
"Yeah, I want to go hiking."
"Okay," I say with an optimistic lilt.
Now I have another objective: help my sister realize her feelings for Luciano. How am I going to do that? I have no idea. There is a whole minefield surrounding her heart right now.
But more cute things in her wardrobe can’t hurt. And plans for myself and Dex when Rory wants to go hiking will be helpful so she can get alone time with a different hiking partner.
That’s why Rory is so intent on avoiding him. She’s doing the opposite of what her heart desires. It’s another way that she can punish herself–by not letting herself give in. Not letting herself be vulnerable. Not letting herself be happy. Despite how long she and Westin were together, I doubt she ever truly opened up to him either.
"Why did you say Luci and I should sleep together if you didn’t mean sex?" She asks, sifting through the dresses and trying to sound like it’s an offhand question–like she isn’t truly interested. But the bright shade of her cheeks tell another story.
"When Dex and I slept in the same bed, the dreams finally stopped."
She nods slowly. "But your dreams were completely different. They weren’t terrifying. They weren’t warning you that you were going to hurt him."
"Do you really think that’s what yours are doing?" I ask doubtfully.
"Well... yeah," she shrugs.
"Maybe they are telling you that he’s the one who will take your demons, Rory." As soon as I say it, the goosebumps come back, skittering all the way from my head to my toes. "Maybe he’s the only one who can."
