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You Must Have Been Looking For Me

Summary:

“Is this some kind of… A Christmas Carol, dream-ghost bullshit?” Zoe demands. She’s so not interested in some kind of supernatural hallucination right now. She really, really needs to wake up. She is an adult. Zoe is an adult, she is thirty years old, she is not seventeen. She is not in high school. She cannot be back in high school.

Dr. Sherman laughs. “Of course not. In those stories someone watches their past. I’m asking you to reimagine it.”

 

Inspired by Being Erica, season 1.

Notes:

Hello!

So this story is very heavily inspired by (and premise lovingly ripped off from) first season of the Canadian show Being Erica. The title comes from Phoebe Bridgers's song, "Smoke Signals."

It is largely canon-compliant.

Many thanks to vinegar-and-glitter for her support, willingness to let me bounce ideas around, and help deciding on a title. And also shoutout to charactershoes who (in my humble opinion) wrote the ULTIMATE do-over/fix it/time travel related fic in this whole fandom, Come and Go.

Chapter Text

Zoe taps a pen to a pad of paper, trying desperately to force herself to focus. This meeting was another dry financial update that could have been an email. This job isn’t where she pictured herself when she imagined turning thirty. 

When she used to imagine being thirty as a kid, she pictured a sort of fantasy, heavily inspired by shows she wasn’t supposed to be watching on HBO. She imagined a sexy and fabulous future like the women in Sex and the City or a quirky, struggling but fun life like the people on Girls. 

She never pictured being up to her eyes in graduate school debt and working for the corporate office of a struggling online retailer because she never managed to finish her master’s degree in social work. 

Social work was… she doesn’t know what it was. A manifestation of her constant feeling like she needed to make up for the shit she’d enabled as a teenager. Or something. 

A total failure on all counts. 

Regardless, she sits in this stupid meeting, trying to pay attention (or at least appear semi-conscious), despite the fact that her brain is far too preoccupied. 

She knows it’s stupid. To be hung up on a tinder match that had turned sour. She knows. She’s thirty for fuck’s sake. She’s too old, far too grown up to find herself in the throes of “why doesn’t he like me?”

But really… he didn’t like her.  

The conversation had been light and easy and fun at first. It had been good. But then this guy - Tyler- had asked her if she’d ever been on TV or something. 

And Zoe froze. Immediately said no. 

And he said that she looked weirdly familiar. 

And she… got defensive. 

She gets defensive, still, over ten years later. The sting of “Zoe’s a stuck up bitch” and “fuck the Murphys” never fades. 

She asked him how long he’d known. Who she was. What his plan was. How he intended to embarrass her. 

He called her paranoid and unmatched her. 

She knows why he doesn’t like her. The problem isn’t the people who chat her up on tinder. It’s her. She’s a mess. 

“Zoe?”

She glances over at Alison, the closest thing she has to a work friend these days. More like… a work neighbor. A more successful one. A twenty five year old business manager, while Zoe was nothing more than somebody’s assistant. 

“The meeting’s over.”

Zoe glances up and looks around her. People are on their feet, not really dispersing like normal. Someone burst into tears. 

“God I totally spaced out,” she tells Alison. “What did I miss?”

Alison looks down at her feet. “Oh. It’s. It’s bad news. We’re… we’re out of business. Closing everything down by the end of the month.”

Zoe feels like she’s been caught under the ribs by something hard and cold. “What?”

“Did you know?” Alison asks. “You’re the secretary in Bob’s office, did you know?”

Zoe shakes her head. Bob might be the CFO, and she might technically be his assistant, but she had no idea the situation was that bad. “I didn’t… I didn’t… everyone is going to lose their jobs?” Zoe tries desperately. Maybe she misheard. Misunderstood. 

Alison frowns. “Yeah. We are.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to start packing my desk.” 

Zoe watches her go. Slowly makes her way back to her own cubicle. Reads her email, brand new from HR, outlining how she’ll be offered a severance for the next month’s wages but that she’s not expected to report to the office anymore after next week. 

They’ve all been released for the rest of the day. 

Zoe slowly makes her way to her car. Puts her keys in the ignition and sits there for a long moment with her head resting on the steering wheel, marveling at how truly fucked up her life has become. 

No job. No partner. No master’s degree. 

Fuck. 

She lifts her head eventually. The station she has playing in her car announces a throwback hour and starts playing something by My Chemical Romance. 

A memory flickers very briefly across her mind. Her brother’s middle school obsession with the band. The way she used to hear their music blaring from the headphones of his iPod on long car rides. 

Zoe frowns. 

She doesn’t like to think about it. She just… doesn’t like to think about it. 

So she doesn’t think about it. 

It’s easiest just not to think about it. 

Zoe starts her drive home. Her head hurts. It’s pouring. She’s really struggling to figure out her next move. Should she start applying for jobs? Is she even qualified to do anything other than fetch coffee and send a thousand outlook invites? She thinks about calling her parents but decides it’s not worth worrying them. They always overreact. 

Her dad will immediately try to solve it. Get her a new job pronto. 

Her mom will worry that Zoe is suicidal because… that’s just always where her mom’s mind goes. It’s maddening. 

Zoe’s mulling over the disaster it would be to tell her parents about this when she is blindsided. 

It takes a moment to realize what’s happened. She realizes her car is spinning and she tries to slam on her brakes to no avail. The car comes to a shuddering stop when it crashes into a streetlight post. Glass falls over her like rain and her airbag detonates. 

She blinks. Blinks and blinks. 

Her first thought is that she’s dead. She’s definitely dead. 

Her next thought is that she really doesn’t want to be dead. If she’s dead, if she’s dead and there’s an afterlife, she’s so fucked. Zoe doesn’t want to see…

Things snap back into place. Her face and hands hurt. There’s honking and blurry lights all around. 

She’s alive. 

Thank goodness. Her parents would be such basket cases if she was dead. 

It all happens very quickly. An ambulance and a fire truck are there so fast. She wonders if her sense of time has been fucked up somehow. 

Someone explains that the car turning from another lane hydroplaned and lost control, hitting her car. She’s put in a c-collar and loaded into the ambulance. They press gauze to some of her cuts and tell her she seems stable but needs a full work up before she can be cleared to go home. She probably needs stitches. 

It’s all a huge blur. 

A neuro work up. An X-ray of her collarbone. Examination of the cuts on her arms and hands. 

She’s fine. Has a concussion and needs some stitches but she’s okay. 

But then the doctors say her parents are on their way. 

“You called them?” Zoe yelps. 

“You need to be monitored overnight and ‘home’ is the emergency contact in your phone.”

“God, you have no idea how much harder you just made my life,” Zoe gripes. 

Zoe waits, frowning, on the cot in the ER. She doesn’t want to deal with her parents tonight. Not right after she got fired and in a car accident. It’s not fair. The universe clearly hates her. She doesn’t need her parents thinking she’s more of a mess than she already does. She just… doesn’t need this. 

Zoe’s still sitting there, clutching her bag and trying to brace herself for the impact of her parents showing up to make this situation a hundred times more dramatic when another doctor appears at the foot of the bed. She’s tall with long dark hair in box braids and a warm smile. Around her neck, Zoe sees that she’s wearing an hourglass on a necklace. Weird. 

“Everyone has already checked me out,” Zoe mutters. “I’m just waiting on a ride.”

The doctor smiles. “My name is Dr. Lindy Sherman.”

Zoe blinks. “Okay?”

“I wanted to talk to you about how you’re feeling.”

“Like some jackass sideswiped me into a pole,” She says. “You know. Not great?”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Of course. But how are you feeling ?”

Zoe laughs. She laughs . “They did not send a psych consult. No way, my car got hit, I didn’t hit anybody. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Dr. Sherman smiles benignly. “I just overheard you saying how much harder the other doctors have apparently made your life by calling your parents. So I wanted to check in. See if I can help.”

“I don’t need a shrink, thanks,” Zoe replies coldly. 

Dr. Sherman keeps smiling that benign smile. “I think I could really help you,” she says. “Take my card.”

“I’m good, really,” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman holds the card out anyway. “Take it. Humor me a little. I really think I can help you.” 

Zoe takes it in the hopes that this doctor will just fucking leave. 

“I hope I’ll hear from you soon,” Dr. Sherman says. 

Weird. 

Whatever. 

Her parents show up within the hour. Her mom is a wreck, of course. Shaking and crying and hugging Zoe super tightly even though she’s sore all over. Now Zoe officially has blood, sweat, and tears on her clothes. Also snot. Not even hers . It’s gross. 

Her dad is stoic. He’s always stoic. 

He didn’t even cry at the funeral. 

Zoe blinks. 

No. Not today. 

“You’re alright?” He says, almost curtly. 

Zoe nods. “I’m fine. It wasn’t my fault. Guy hydroplaned into me.”

Her dad nods and mentions something about calling her insurance adjuster and blah blah blah. She tunes him out. She knows what he’s saying is important, that, really, she should be listening to him because she’s thirty years old and doesn’t even know how to file an insurance claim. But she’s tired and she knows her dad will just… handle it. It’s how he prefers to operate. If she were to insist he talk her through how to do it, he’ll get frustrated and snappish and annoyed at her questions. 

Better just not to bother. 

Instead, Zoe focuses on her crying mother. “I’m fine. Really. It’s a mild concussion and some stitches. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” her mom protests with a wobbly lip. “You could have died!”

“I mean, yeah, but I didn’t,” Zoe says lamely. “I’m really fine. I was lucky. Please don’t cry mom.” 

Her mom continues crying anyway. 

Zoe finds herself looking across the emergency, as if breaking the proverbial fourth wall, thinking she wished those doctors had seen the situation they put her in by calling her parents. Her dad is on hold with a personal injury attorney already. Her mom is hysterical. Can’t Zoe catch a fucking break?

Of course, this is when she locks eyes with Dr. Sherman, passing through the emergency room again. Dr. Sherman smiles while Zoe’s mother sobs into her shoulder, holds up her hand in the shape of an old school phone. She mouths, “Call me.”

Yeah right. 


 

The next morning, Zoe wakes up exhausted. Her head is killing her. Her parents took turns watching her all night, waking her up and making sure she wasn’t brain dead. 

Nothing makes you feel more pathetic than realizing that there’s nobody else in your life who’d look after you when you’re not okay than your panicky, divorced parents. 

When Zoe is positive she’s not going to get any more sleep, she trudges out of her childhood bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. 

She finds her parents waiting for her at the table. Her dad is dressed for work; a fresh suit and tie, freshly shaved, freshly pressed shirt and freshly shined shoes. Her mom is dressed for being a recluse; she’s in her pajamas and a bathrobe still. Zoe spies the familiar ripped collar of a graying old Nirvana t-shirt. The lame kind you’d get from Target or whatever, ages after the band faded from popularity and was relegated to appearances on the wardrobes of teenagers who wanted to appear alternative. 

It’s so morbid. 

That she wears his clothes. 

“Zoe, sweetheart, please sit down,” her mom says, her voice gentle. The ever present wobble in her voice is absent. It confuses her. 

Zoe sits, looking between her mom and dad. “What’s up?” She asks, guarded. This is feeling distinctly reminiscent of the time her mom found weed in her bedroom her senior year. Or when they told her they were splitting up her junior year of college. Like it’s bad news. Very bad news. 

“Zoe,” her dad begins. “This morning I called your office to let them know why you would be out today, and your supervisor informed me that calling out was unnecessary because the company is closing.”

Fuck. 

This is precisely what she wanted to avoid. 

“Why didn’t you tell us about your job, sweetheart?” Her mom asks softly. 

Zoe frowns. “I mean. It literally just happened. There was a lot going on yesterday. It wasn’t a top priority.”

“We didn’t even know this was a possibility,” her dad says, shaking his head. “Do you have enough emergency money to cover your rent? What’s your plan to find a new job?”

Zoe laughs hollowly. “Slow down, jeez, I just found out yesterday. I’m fine on money, don’t worry. It’s going to be fine. I just haven’t had a chance to figure it all out yet.”

“We’re very worried about you, sweetheart,” her mom says. Her eyes regain their now familiar glassy quality. Zoe thinks her mom has spent the last fourteen years on the verge of tears. “You’re thirty years old. You just lost your job, your car… you haven’t been seeing anyone. You don’t ever mention friends. We’re worried that you’re struggling.”

“Your mother and I think it’s best if you move back in here,” her dad announces. “Stay at home while you work out your next steps. My assistant is out on maternity leave starting next month, so you can come work for me while you’re getting back on your feet-”

“What? No. Definitely no, hard pass,” Zoe says, laughing in disbelief. “That’s not happening.”

Her parents freeze. “Zoe, this situation is serious,” her dad says. “You lost your job.”

“Like I don’t already know that,” she says. “I’ll get another job. Can’t I have twenty four hours before I dive into the search?”

“You were at that company for three years,” Larry tells her. “And there was no room for growth… and it was like you didn’t care. You used to have all of these goals, aspirations.”

“You had such big dreams honey,” her mom interjects. “And it seems like you’ve just. Given those up.”

Zoe can’t believe this. “I grew up,” she says harshly. “They weren’t realistic. I… look I appreciate that you care or whatever, but I don’t need help. I’m fine. I just need one day to get my head around it.”

“Cynthia, do you hear this?” Her dad says in disbelief. “Zoe m, honey I know you don’t want to hear this but your mother and I are worried that you.. that you’ve… stalled out. It’s not normal to be your age and content to be going nowhere.”

“Excuse you?” Zoe says, her hackles raising. How fucking dare he say that to her. 

“We’re very worried about you,” her mom reiterates. “You don’t seem… happy recently. You’ve been… distant and irritable and just. Not like yourself.”

“Who the fuck ever said I was happy?” Zoe demands. 

Her parents both fall quiet. 

“I’m not doing this,” Zoe says. “This bullshit… intervention or whatever. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I just need to figure some stuff out. Just, god, you are completely overreacting.”

Her dad crosses his arms over his chest. “Zoe you are thirty years old. You have no career. No real prospects. You never finished your master’s, you’re divorced. From where I’m standing, your future is in serious jeopardy if you keep going like this.”

“No. I’m not doing this,” Zoe says standing up. “And fuck you for bringing Nick into this.” 

She walks as quickly as her wobbly legs will carry her up to her bedroom, calling a ride share as she goes. She throws on some old clothes - grateful that somehow she’s still got things that fit her at her parents - grabs her things and heads out the door. 

She hears her mom calling after her, but Zoe ignores it. She doesn’t miss the way her mom says, “Damn it, Larry, that was not the way we talked about!”

Zoe climbs into the car that pulls into her parents’ driveway. Sinks into the backseat and looks at her phone.

She has all of one text waiting for her. And her heart sinks when she sees it’s not even from a person. It’s a coupon code for hair dye that she keeps forgetting to unsubscribe from. 

When she’s dropped at her apartment building, Zoe takes the rickety old elevator up to the eighth floor. Steps inside of the one bedroom she had fallen in love with when she and Nick split up. It looks far less appealing three years on. The bright floor with all of its natural sunlight is dreary today because of the clouds outside.

Her shit is… over where. Just strewn all over the place. Clothes and books and papers, unfinished attempts at fixing her resume and at painting the walls any color but eggshell abandoned part way through, packages from Amazon that she ordered late at night and never even managed to open because the rush of trying to find the right moisturizer to finally fix her life had faded moments after ordering it. 

Her life is a mess. Her parents aren’t wrong about that. But it’s not up to them to fix it. It’s up to her. 

And that’s… the fucking problem. 

Zoe is no good at fixing things. Never has been. The leaky sink in her kitchen is proof. The unfinished projects, the stalled out career, the fact that she’s still single and barely has people she’d call friends anymore. She’s just shit at fixing things. 

Zoe sits down on her sofa and sighs. She reaches into her purse for her phone and instead finds her fingers closing on the card from that doctor yesterday. 

She stares at it. 

Dr. Lindy Sherman 

Psychotherapist 

125 Spruce Street 

 

And suddenly Zoe is. 

Exhausted. 

She saw a psychologist for a while, at the end of high school and for a bit in college. It had helped a lot, honestly. Helped her get her head on straight after everything that happened. 

It’s why she went for the masters. She thought… maybe she could do for other people what her shrink Norah had done for her as a kid. 

It was a bust, of course. 

She and Nick had very briefly attended couples’ therapy too. Before it went to shit. Before she ruined it all. 

Zoe stares at this card in her hand. 

Maybe her parents aren’t totally delusional. She is struggling. She is unhappy. And she doesn’t really know how to not be unhappy these days. 

Zoe doesn’t know how the hell she’s meant to pay for therapy now that she’s lost her job, but figures maybe she could get a few sessions under her belt before her insurance lapses. 

Deciding that, fuck it, her day literally can’t get worse, Zoe dials the number on the card. 

“Good morning, Dr. Sherman’s office,” a receptionist greets her. 

“Uh. Hi. I was wondering if I could schedule an appointment?”

The receptionist laughs. Weird. “Is this your first time visiting our office?”

“Uh. Yeah?

“May I have your name please?”

“Zoe Murphy,” Zoe answers. She’s still trying to get her head around that laugh. 

“Oh wonderful. She was hoping you’d call today,” The receptionist says. 

Zoe is starting to feel distinctly wigged out. 

“Dr. Sherman actually has a free spot in two hours. Would that work for you?”

“Why does she have a free appointment today?” Zoe says suspiciously. “She doesn’t have other clients?”

“Cancellation. She prefers not to have people wait for their intake. Does that time work?”

Zoe breathes through her nose. “Yeah. Sure. I can be there in two hours.”

“Marvelous. We’ll see you then.”

“Don’t you need my insurance card?” Zoe asks, lost. 

“We prefer to collect billing information in the office.”

“But what if Dr. Sherman is out of network for me?” Zoe protests. 

Another laugh. “Trust me. That never happens.”  

Zoe continues to be weirded out once she hands up. 

She gets off the couch. Drags herself through a shower. Looks up the bus schedule to get herself to Spruce Street since her car is… she doesn’t know where her car is. 

And it’s probably totaled. 

Zoe gets dressed like she’s going to work, determined not to look like a mess. She does her hair and makeup and then takes the bus across town to Dr. Sherman’s office. 

She’s greeted by that laughing receptionist again. The receptionist looks like some goth college kid. Zoe worries she’s not going to file her insurance paperwork properly. 

Zoe fills out the intake form. It’s pretty standard stuff, asking for a full medical and mental health history. 

But the last question stops her in her tracks. 

 

Do you have any regrets? Y/N

 

Zoe circles yes. Hands the clipboard to the receptionist. 

“Zoe?” 

She looks up to see Dr. Sherman striding out of her office. “Come on in.”

Zoe follows her into her office. Inside looks… like a therapist’s office. Light blue gray walls. Minimal art. A lot of books on a shelf behind a desk. Two arm chairs and a sofa. A door at the back of the room, like a closet. 

“Please make yourself comfortable.”

Zoe picks a seat on the sofa. 

“This is weird,” she says immediately. 

Dr. Sherman smiles. “I won’t deny that,” she says. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Zoe nods apprehensively. 

“Why did you call me today? What made you decide to come in?”

Zoe takes a breath. “My parents think my life is falling apart,” she admits quietly. “And it really pissed me off.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because… they’re right.”

“I see,” Dr. Sherman says. She writes something down on a clipboard. 

“They want to take over my life and… fix it,” Zoe says. “And honestly, like. It’s my own damn fault for letting them think that was okay for so long. I’m thirty years old. I have some shit to figure out but… it’s my shit, you know? Mommy and daddy swooping in isn’t going to actually make things better. Make me feel more capable.”

“So why let them?”

Zoe sucks in a breath. “I… I guess because I don’t want to hurt them.”

“And asserting your boundaries would hurt them?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

“Yes,” Zoe says emphatically. 

“Why?”

“Because… because of my brother.” Dr. Sherman raises her eyebrows. “He died when I was a teenager. And things were really hard after, so when shit went wrong for me… I let them take care of it. Because they’re scared all the time of losing another kid. It’s easier to just… let them handle stuff.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Can you think of a moment when you wish you hadn’t let them take care of things for you?”

Zoe laughs. “How long have you got?”

Dr. Sherman gives her a smile. “How about just one moment. An early one, where you might have made a different decision. What would you do differently?”

Zoe sucks in a breath. 

She can picture it so clearly. Almost like magic. 

“When I quit jazz band in high school,” Zoe says. 

“Tell me more.”

Zoe nods. “I was in the middle of my junior year. My brother died at the beginning of the year. And I.. loved jazz band. I loved it. I played the guitar. And I was good too. Not a brag, just a fact. I was good. But people in my band class… were awful. There were rumors going around about me… and I told my parents I wanted to quit. And they let me. Called up the school and signed off on the drop form, all that. Didn’t even make me finish the semester.”

“And you regret that?”

“Of course,” Zoe says. “I gave up something I loved because… kids were mean? That’s stupid. And I realized how childish it was to let them pull me out of class, but by then it was too late.”

Dr. Sherman smiles. “What if it wasn’t?”

Zoe laughs. “I mean. I was sixteen. Trust me. It’s too late.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Zoe, I should tell you. My approach to therapy is… unconventional. But I think it could really help you. I believe very much in second chances. In people having agency over their own lives.”

“What, are you offering me a do over?” Zoe laughs. “How hard did I fucking hit my head?”

Dr. Sherman smiles again. “Perhaps trying to explain is… not the best idea. Maybe I can just show you.” 

“Show me?”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to try an exercise,” Dr. Sherman says. “See that door over there?” 

Zoe nods. 

“I want you to walk through that door. And when you emerge, I want you to be sixteen. And I want you to tell your parents you don’t actually want to quit jazz band.”

“Like a role play?” Zoe says, her brows knitting together. 

“Not exactly,” Dr. Sherman says. “Just. Trust me. Just once. And if you find it helpful, we can continue to pursue treatment.”

Zoe laughs. 

What the hell. 

So she makes an idiot of herself going into a closet in front of a weird therapist. Her week has already been a humiliating shitshow. Might as well roleplay being sixteen again with some wingbat therapist. “Alright,” Zoe says with a laugh, standing up from the couch. “Let’s try it. Why the hell not, right? I’ve got nothing to lose.” 

Dr. Sherman smiles. “Now the rules are simple: You can change your decisions, and your decisions only. Everyone else maintains their free will.” 

Zoe rolls her eyes. Sure. Because she’s going to be able to control how Dr. Sherman plays her mom. 

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind stepping through the door.” 

 Zoe stands up. “Is this really necessary? Couldn’t we just, like, say action or whatever?”

“Trust me. Go through the door.” 

Zoe shakes her head. She definitely doesn’t see how this could be at all a vital part of the role play. She studied to be a clinical social worker and she sure as hell doesn’t remember hiding in a closet as an essential part of the therapeutic experience. 

But she straightens her shoulders and stands up. Nods at Dr. Sherman, trying to seem game for this truly weird concept, and steps into the closet. 

Only to step out into the crowded hallway of her high school. 

Zoe blinks a few times. 

This can’t be right. It can’t be right. 

She looks down, at her feet. Sees she’s wearing a pair of jeans with stars drawn on the cuffs. There’s stars on her sneakers too. On her back is a bag full of books. 

Zoe takes a step forward, uncertain and convinced she’s dreaming, and bumps into someone’s shoulder. 

“Jesus watch where you’re going,” The other kid snaps. 

“I’m s-sorry -”

”Stuck up bitch,” The kid sneers and walks off. 

Zoe stares after him for a long moment. 

This is a dream, she thinks to herself. A really weird and specific dream with a convoluted plot. And I need to wake up. 

Zoe turns and heads back through the door where she came. Obviously that’s the key to the whole thing, right? She dreamed of a magical door, and if she goes back through it, she’ll be back. Like… Narnia or whatever. 

She steps through the door. 

But she’s not in Dr. Sherman’s office, or even in her bed waking up. 

No, instead she’s face to face in the door of a classroom with someone she hoped she’d never see again. 

Evan Hansen looks exactly like he does in her memories, from the tendency toward horizontal striped shirts right down to the moderately dorky sneakers and way his fingers compulsively pull at the hem of his shirt. 

“Zoe,” He says. Wheezes, really. He looks mortified “What are you - um, I mean - are you -?”

Zoe shoots a nasty look his way and turns on her heel. 

She forgot. 

In high school, Zoe had Mrs. VanKamp for pre-calculus during sixth period. Evan had her for AP calculus in seventh period. 

Sometimes they’d stand by their lockers and talk during that passing period. Talk and smile at each other. Sometimes passing each other notes because many of their teachers had started to collect phones during class. So they went old school, passing notes. Finding more and more complicated ways to fold them before they handed them off. Zoe’s favorite was the time Evan folded a note to her into a little origami frog.

What the actual fuck is happening here? 

How hard had she hit her head that she genuinely thinks she’s back in high school?

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. 

Zoe gropes her memory for an escape route. She needs… the bathroom. She needs to hide out until she can figure out what the fresh hell is happening to her. 

Inside the bathroom, it’s worse. 

So much worse. 

To see the familiar pink and blue flannel, the skinny jeans with the stars on the cuffs, the blonde in her hair from when the blue streaks faded away. 

How fucking young she looks. 

How young and how… tired. 

 Zoe looks exhausted. There’s huge bags under her eyes. Her hair is limp and greasy. She looks like she hasn’t slept properly in months. 

Because she hasn’t, Zoe thinks. Because from September to March of that school year, she was plagued by nightmares and intense anxiety. 

Zoe splashes water on her face. 

Wake up. This isn’t real. Wake up. 

“That’s not how this works,” Says a voice behind her. Zoe jumps nearly a foot. 

There’s Dr. Sherman, stepping out of a stall to wash her hands calmly in the sink. 

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Zoe demands. 

“You said, if you could do it again, you wouldn’t have quit jazz band. Right?”

Zoe nods.

“Well here’s your chance. Don’t quit jazz band. Stick it out. Talk to your parents about it,” Dr. Sherman says. “Don’t you want to know what might be?”

“But this… this is insane. This is impossible.”

Dr. Sherman shrugs. “Maybe. But I did tell you my approach was unconventional.” 

“Is this some kind of… A Christmas Carol, dream-ghost kind of bullshit?” Zoe demands. She’s so not interested in some kind of supernatural hallucination right now. She really, really needs to wake up. She is an adult. Zoe is an adult, she is not seventeen. She is not in high school. She cannot be back in high school. 

Dr. Sherman laughs. “Of course not. In those stories someone watches their past. I’m asking you to reimagine it.”

Zoe blinks a few more times. Trying to wake up. When that doesn’t work, she glances over at Dr. Sherman again, defeated.  “How does this… what do I do?”

Dr. Sherman smiles. “You go! You change what you set out to change. You get a second chance, to do it over, live with fewer regrets.” 

“But… how does this work?”

“There are a few rules, basic time travel stuff. You can’t cheat the system to win the lottery or anything like that. You can’t play god. But you can alter your own choices.”

“But what about the butterfly effect?” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman smiles. “It’s smaller than you might think when you stick to your own life,” She says. “Now, go on. Today is the day you decided to quit the jazz band. Go and see it with fresh eyes, and then speak with your parents.” 

“And do I… am I stuck here? Do I have to repeat my whole life from the time I was sixteen?”

Dr. Sherman smiles. “No, of course not. When you’ve changed what you sought changing, you’ll return to your regularly scheduled life as an adult. Now go. You’re about to make yourself late for class.” 

Zoe hurries off to her second to last class of the day, a bit shocked at how easily she seems to remember the route to the classroom. She sits through her final class of the day, sort of half assing her way through a group discussion on The Scarlet Letter, which she hadn’t read as a junior in high school and never bothered picking up after. 

When class finally ends, the teacher asks her to hang back for a moment. “I need to get to jazz band,” Zoe says, staring at her toes. 

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Mrs. Bunch asks. “I know things have been… very difficult, since your brother…” 

“I’m fine,” Zoe says immediately. 

Mrs. Bunch frowns a little. “I’ve noticed your performance in class hasn’t been… up to your usual standard,” She says. “I’m trying to be understanding, but you have to meet me halfway here. Honestly. Are you alright?” 

Zoe doesn’t know what to say. 

She knows what she did say, on this day all those years ago. 

She said she was fine, she didn’t need help. Then she quit jazz band and finished the semester with a C- and her dad had flipped. 

“I…”

“I’ve heard the things people have been saying,” Mrs. Bunch says. “About your family. About your brother’s…” 

Zoe flinches. “Yeah. They’ve been… it hasn’t been great.” 

Mrs. Bunch gives her a tentative smile. “Well. If you ever need an extension on an assignment or some extra credit, I’m here. And you can always ask me for a pass to the guidance counselor’s office too. Whatever I can do to help.” 

“Thanks,” Zoe murmurs. 

She walks into the band room cautiously. Kids are getting ready for class. There’s fluttering sheet music, kids overzealously sucking on reeds for their instruments. Zoe smiles a bit. She's missed the flurry of the moments before practice began. 

She heads to the storage locker where she kept her guitar during the week. Zoe realizes she’s lucky she remembers the combination; she’d be stuck asking for help otherwise. She uses the numbers for passwords all the time now. 

Her guitar in hand, Zoe heads into the classroom. Plugs the electric guitar into the amplifier, turning the volume down low. She strums experimentally. 

It’s been so long. Her fingers feel unsure pressing against the frets. Can she even still play? She gave it up entirely after she quit jazz band. It’s been almost fifteen years. 

Mercifully her younger fingers still know their way across the strings. She warms up a little, glancing over the sheet music, trying to remember. 

She knows she struggled with this song the chord progression was more complicated than she was accustomed to, but the band teacher seemed sure she could handle it. 

Mr. Rojas sweeps into the room in his very typical fashion, dramatic and vaguely wizard-like with his long hair and beard. He held his conductor's baton like a magic wand. She used to joke with her friend Keith, who played bass, that he ought to wear robes like Dumbledore in Harry Potter to match his long silvery hair and overall weirdness. 

“And a hush falls over the crowd,” he commands. And the whole class echos “hush,” drawing out the sh until it grew quiet, all of the squeaks and twangs of tuning over. 

“Let’s warm up with Blue Eggs,” he says. Zoe forgot how weird the names of the songs were. 

They begin to play. Zoe marvels at her own ability to keep up. At the volume of sound of all of these instruments playing at once, of being part of this wall of sound. 

“Good.” He asks the horns to tune a bit, then the saxophones. Tells Zoe to turn her amp up just a little. 

They move into another song. They’re barely five bars in when Mr. Rojas sweeps his hands down to stop them. 

“I hear laughing. What’s so funny?”

There’s more stifled giggling. More laughter that kids hide their faces and cover their mouths to quiet. 

“Murphy, what’s so funny?” Mr. Rojas asks. 

Zoe honestly has no clue. But everyone is looking at her. “I don’t know.”

He sighs. Turns to keyboardist, Jackie, who is giggling helplessly. “You. Strife. What’s funny?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rojas. It’s just a dumb meme.”

He tries to call the class to order. Beside Zoe, Keith is still giggling. “What’s the meme?”

Keith stops laughing abruptly. “Oh just. An inside joke.”

“Show me,” Zoe says. 

Keith hesitates. “I don’t think you’ll get it.” 

“Show me the damn meme Keith,” Zoe grinds out as the whole class continues to laugh. He turns his phone around. 

It’s two pictures. Of Zoe. One from the background of the viral video from the memorial, showing Zoe with her arms crossed on the stage, looking bored, that’s labeled “treat ur brother like shit”. The other, a selfie Evan and Zoe had posted back when they were dating, captioned “fuck w/ his only friend.” The top line reads: “get you a girl who can do both.”

Below the picture it says “srly cant believe that bitch dumped him.”

Zoe feels her face heating up  

She forgot. The meme format has fallen out of fashion. She had forgotten all about it. All about the exact reason she left jazz band. 

Zoe’s eyes sting. She stands up. Unplugs her guitar. 

People start laughing harder. 

“Aww come on, it’s just a joke,” Someone calls out. 

“Hey Zoe, I was in a group project with Connor last year, can I get in on the action?”

“What kind of a slut sleeps with her dead brother’s best friend and then dumps him only a couple months after the funeral,” someone mutters loudly enough for her to hear. 

“Cold hearted bitch. I bet she doesn’t even care that her brother died.”

“Fuck you,” Zoe says to the girl who said that. “You don’t know anything.”

“Careful, Maisie, she might convince you to kill yourself next,” some asshole on sax says. 

“That’s enough,” Mr. Rojas tries. 

Zoe doesn’t hear the rest. She packs up her guitar and hurries out of the band room before her tears fall. 

It hurts. Hearing his name. Seeing how everyone holds her responsible for what happened. It’s like a punch. 

She sits in her old car - her sixteen year old self’s car - and cries. 

Zoe just cries. She has pushed down how pain this year was for her. She went from the girl with a dead brother to the girl who had killed her brother, broke his best friend, almost overnight. People hated her. 

No wonder she went running to her parents to drop jazz band. 

This is torture. She’s surprised she didn’t ask to be homeschooled. 

Zoe drives home. Lets herself into the empty house. She has no idea where her mom has gone. 

She heads up to her bedroom and cries. Obsessively looks through social media, even though she’s deleted all of her accounts. The meme is all over - Instagram, Facebook, tumblr. The comments get worse and worse. 

Even after he died, Zoe couldn’t let Connor have anything.”

It’s not true. It’s not true. He had everything. All the attention from their parents. All of their support and worry. All of their attention. She only got it now because he was gone. 

It’s not fair. 

She hears the door open sometime around six and heads downstairs. Her parents walk in together. They look miserable. Weary, like they just went ten rounds in the boxing ring. 

Oh. Right. They’re in couple’s therapy during this time.

It’s not going well. 

They’d be divorced in a few years time. 

Her mom gives her this pale smile. “I hope you don’t mind that we picked up pizza while we were out,” she says. 

Funny really. They never used to be allowed to eat pizza. Once, when she was fifteen, their parents left them home alone for a night and they covertly ordered a double pepperoni pizza with garlic knots. Devoured the whole thing and then her brother left the house in the middle of the night to hide the evidence in a neighbor’s garbage can. 

Zoe shrugs about the pizza. Sits down to eat with her mom while her dad grabs plates and then pours himself a drink. 

“How was your day, honey?” He asks her. 

“Awful,” Zoe mutters around a slice of margarita. 

Her mom looks on the verge of tears. Like always. “What happened now?”

Zoe shrugs. “Oh the usual. Some meme in jazz band. Apparently I broke Evan’s heart and am a heartless bitch,” she says bluntly. 

Her mom flinches. Her dad’s face goes red. 

“I don’t understand why we’re not telling people the truth,” Zoe blurts out. 

She doesn’t mean to. She doesn’t. But it just spills out of her. 

Her parents trade a look. “We just… how would that help anyone?” Her dad says. “Evan messed up, but he’s… clearly he’s a messed up kid. And The Connor Project… it did a lot of good for people. I don’t see how ruining that would help.”

“It would help me! ” Zoe shouts. “Everyone hates me!”

“People don’t hate you,” her dad says. 

“Yes they do,” Zoe insists. “You should see the shit they write about me. Hear the crap said at school. My own friends won’t talk to me anymore. You know what happened when I told Mel that Evan and I weren’t going out anymore? She said it wasn’t okay because he was the weaker kid. That I should have known better.”

Her mom bursts into tears. 

Zoe feels like she might explode. 

“It’ll all calm down,” Her dad says firmly. “I’m sure of it.”

“It’s not fair,” Zoe says, her eyes stinging.

“Jazz band was my thing. It’s something I’m good at and now everyone hates me, laughs at me.”

“Zoe, that’s not true,” her dad says sternly. 

“It is! Everyone hates me. I can’t stand being in that room with all of their staring eyes. Almost all of them were in the stupid fucking Connor Project.”  She crosses her arms over her chest. “Maybe I should just quit.”

“You can’t quit,” Her dad says immediately. 

Her mom mops her eyes. “Zoe… do you really want to quit jazz band?” She looks so sad.

“Because if that’s really what you want… I can make some calls. I can help.”

Zoe holds her breath. This is it. The moment she wants to undo. Her parents thinking they can do this for her. 

“Because if you can’t handle being there, if you need a break…” her mom says. “There’s no shame in needing a break. You’ve had a really awful time. People would understand.”

“Cynthia, come on. What kind of message is that to send? That it’s okay to quit when things get hard?”

“Sometimes it is,” She says darkly. 

The table falls silent. 

Zoe is surprised at how hard it is. To say she doesn’t really want to quit. That she doesn’t want her parents endorsing this. Because it was so hard. So much harder than she even remembered. The idea of going back, of enduring that shit for another year? It’s awful. 

Zoe wipes her eyes. So does her mom. 

“I don’t want to quit,” Zoe finally manages after a while. 

Her parents look at her. 

“What do you want, Zoe? How can we help?” Her dad asks. 

She feels… vindicated. Maybe she can do this. “It is hard. And I hate it. I hate that this thing I love is all… twisted and ruined. But it’s… it’s still my thing. My thing that was… that was just mine. I don’t want to quit. I just want it to be better. And I want you guys to listen to me when I say things are bad without trying to… fix everything. This is a bullshit situation and I should be allowed to feel bad about it.”

“You’re right,” Her mom says. “We don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to us.” 

“It’s been… hard,” her dad admits. 

“No kidding,” Zoe says. 

“The comments online,” her mom says in this brittle voice. “It’s hard to see that the whole internet thinks that I’m… a bad mother.”

Zoe swallows hard. That hurts to hear. Her mom shouldn’t be blamed.  “You’re not a bad mom.”

Her mom wipes her eyes again. “I feel like one. I couldn’t help your brother, and you’re in so much pain…Being attacked like that, online and in school. People blaming you. And Connor… I…  I feel like I’ve failed. I’ve failed to protect my kids.”

“Cynthia, you know that’s not true,” her dad says. His voice is rough. “If anyone has failed their children…”

His face crumples. 

Zoe feels like her heart is being squeezed so tightly it could burst. She isn’t expecting it. This never happened before. Her dad… he didn’t cry at the funeral. He barely showed emotion at the memorial service. He just… he pushes through. That’s his go to move. He puts on a brave face and carries on. Like his repressed Catholic white man tendencies just won’t allow him to break down, to lose it. 

And part of Zoe wonders if that’s genetic. If she’s inherited that. The ability to shove it all down, refuse to break. Refuse to bend to the emotion that overwhelms her. 

“You were right,” Larry says, his voice breaking as he looks at Zoe. “I did… I wanted to punish him. I wanted him to be sorry. For what he put us through, but I didn’t think. I couldn’t imagine what he was… I was so angry. I let it get in the way, I let it…”

Zoe’s heart plummets fast, like the floor just disappeared beneath her, realizing what he’s saying. Understanding that guilt he’s carrying, what he thinks of himself.  “You didn’t kill Connor, dad.”

It hurts to get out. The name. The words. The idea that her father blames himself, truly blames himself. 

“But I didn’t help him,” he rasps. “I didn’t help him.”

“We tried,” Her mom says, tears in her eyes. “We tried. We all tried.  It just… none of it worked.

They all sit there with that for a long moment. The silence is deafening. 

They all feel guilty, Zoe realizes. All three of them. They all feel guilty and the reaction from people online is making it worse. Convincing them that they are. Convincing them that the things they tried, the years of pain and desperation, those meant nothing because the result was that her brother died. It’s so unfair. 

It’s unfair. 

It’s so fucking unfair that they’re taking the blame for what he did. 

None of them put those pills in her brother’s hand. None of them made him swallow them. 

“I’ll call Mr. Rojas,” Her dad says after a moment. “See if we can come up with a game plan if something happens again in band class  Not to fix it,” he rushes to add. “Just so we can support you better.”

Zoe nods. “Thank you.”

Nobody seems to feel much like eating after that. Zoe feels exhausted. Just before she retreats back to her bedroom, her mom stops her. 

“I’m really proud of you,” She says softly. “For wanting to stick things out.”

Zoe shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.” 

“You’re right. We don’t… none of us talk about how everything has gotten to us. We should do it more.”

Zoe gives her a cautious smile. She doesn’t know what else to say. She wearily climbs the stairs. 

She opens the door to her bedroom. 

And finds herself stepping back into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

Dr. Sherman smiles at her. “Have a seat.”

Zoe sinks into the couch. She feels exhausted. All of the aches from yesterday’s car accident creep back in. 

“How was it?”

Zoe shakes her head. “Honestly? Kind of awful. I forgot how bad things were.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “But you decided not to quit jazz band.”

“I did.”

“How did that feel?”

Zoe sighs. “Good, I guess? To make them listen. But well. I mean. I don’t know what this means. I mean… nothing really feels all that different.”

“I guess that’s the next piece of work,” Dr. Sherman says. “Finding out.”

Zoe sighs. 

“I think this method of therapy could really help you, Zoe,” Dr. Sherman says brightly. “And if you’re willing, we can plan to keep working together. Seeing what parts of your life need adjusting.”

“What else could we adjust?” Zoe asks. 

“Whatever you want. Whatever you regret most,” Dr. Sherman says. “If you’re willing to move forward, then I have a homework assignment for you.”

Zoe waits. 

“Make a list. A list of regrets that you have, that you think have consequences that have impacted your life. Bring that list to me and we will work through them together.”

“Can I think about it?” Zoe asks. 

“Of course. You know where to find me,” Dr. Sherman says. “Just give Erica at the desk a call when you want to schedule our next session.”

Zoe nods. Dr. Sherman shows her the door. She steps out of the office and heads outside to wait for the bus. She feels like her head is spinning. 

Her phone rings as she is stepping off of the bus. She notices, as she hits the button to answer, that there are calluses on her fingers. 

Huh. 

“Hello?”

“It’s mom,” her mom says. Like always. As if Zoe couldn’t see that already. “Zoe I wanted to apologize.”

Zoe is surprised to do that. Her family isn’t big on those. 

“The way your father and I approached you this morning was wrong, and I’m very sorry. You’re an adult. You deserve the chance to figure out your next move however you see fit. And that’s what I should have said this morning. I’m your mom and I always want to make sure you have a soft place to land if things are bad. But you get to decide if or when you need it. Not your dad or me.”

“Thank you,” she chokes out. “That means… a lot.”

“Do you remember when you thought about quitting jazz band?” Her mom asks. 

“Vividly,” Zoe says drily. 

“I wanted to pull you out right away. I hated that you were in pain. But you insisted on going back, chin up, every day. Because you knew that you didn’t deserve how you were being treated. You’ve always known what you deserve, Zoe, and I admire that about you. You are the strongest person I know. And so I know, no matter what happens, that you will get through it.”

Zoe feels oddly moved by this sudden outpouring of support. “Thanks mom.” 

When she gets to her apartment, Zoe checks her email. There’s one from a guy named Greg, confirming her gig at a nearby coffee shop over the weekend. It’s paid - only about $200, but still paid - and Zoe finds herself smiling. 

She closes her email and dials the number for Dr. Sherman’s office. Unsurprisingly, when the receptionist Erica answers, she’s laughing. 

“I thought you’d call back soon,” She says. 

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I guess you called it. Is there any chance you could find me an appointment again next week?”

Erica laughs again. “Truthfully? I already put a hold on Dr. Sherman’s calendar for Mondays at six. Hope that works for you. I just had a feeling.”

Zoe shakes her head. “Thanks, I guess.”

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Summary:

Zoe has a chance to address the management of The Connor Project.

Chapter Text

Job hunting should be used as a torture tactic, Zoe thinks to herself. She’s officially on severance pay for her old job, since there was no point in returning after the car accident, and no matter how many changes she makes to the keywords she types into the job boards searches, she keeps getting the same shit. 

Receptionist. 

Customer service specialist. 

Data entry clerk. 

It’s fucking demoralizing, truthfully. 

But, well. 

Zoe’s qualifications are all over the place. She’s got a BA in Psychology, and unfinished MSW, three years at a company she genuinely did not care about, and a series of assorted temporary and contract positions doing everything from fundraising to editing websites for motorcycle dealers. 

Her resume makes her look like she has some kind of commitment issues. 

Which is funny, seeing as Zoe does, in fact, have some serious issues with commitment. 

Zoe sighs.

There was one position she had found last week, just after her therapy session that had sounded interesting, but she hadn’t heard back. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was something that… sounded like her. Case management at an HIV clinic, working to keep folks enrolled in medical and mental health care. 

She shoves a hand through her hair. Decides to take a walk. She’s got a bit of time to kill before therapy today at four, and she doesn’t like the idea of just sitting around waiting to go. The thought makes her nervous. 

The whole thing makes her nervous. She’s agreed to it, sure, and the first session did seem to have done something, but… 

The whole idea of changing the past. Of reliving moments she regrets? 

It sits strangely. Makes her feel jittery and on edge and… scared. 

What if she’s not ready to face these regrets she’s spelled out for herself? 

Zoe’s been working on the list all week. Trying to summarize the parts of her life where she fucked up isn’t exactly the easiest thing she’s ever done. How do you be concise about your failures? How do you determine what counts?

She needs the walk. This whole process is making her head hurt. 

It’s not a warm day. The air is cold, crisp.  She should have worn a hat or something.  Zoe walks to the coffee shop she likes down the street. Buys herself a latte and grabs a seat near the fireplace. 

Her phone begins to buzz in her pocket. Zoe fishes it out and stares down an unknown number. Zoe doesn’t usually answer calls from unknown numbers, on principle. She’s answered too many calls to hear someone laughingly tell her to go kill herself for one lifetime. 

But job hunting makes this necessary. So Zoe sucks in a deep breath. “Hello?” 

“Hi. I’m looking for Zoe Murphy? I’m calling from the HR department of White Health services. We received your resume and cover letter for the case manager position, and I was curious if you might be willing to come in sometime next week for an interview?” 

Zoe blinks in surprise. “An interview? This week?” She genuinely laughs. “Oh my god. Yes. Definitely, I could come in.” 

“Fantastic. So the interview will be with the head of case management and one of our doctors. How does Wednesday at 3 sound?”

Zoe grins. “Perfect, I’m in.” 

“Wonderful. I’ll forward you some information with directions and parking, and send you the bios of the two people interviewing you. As a heads up, the head of case management loves to be asked about herself.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Noted.” 

“Alright, well, looks like we’re in business. See you at 3 on Wednesday.” 

Zoe hangs up. Smiles, staring off into the fire for a moment, her hopes rising ever so slightly at the offer of an interview so soon after losing her job. 

Part of her had truly thought she’d fuck this up. That even after talking a bit game to her parents about letting her handle things for herself, she’d end up living with her mom and working in her dad’s law firm. So Zoe’s a little surprised, and definitely pleased to see that… maybe she could actually pull this off. 

Zoe still doesn’t have a car, since hers is officially too fucked to drive, so she takes the bus to Dr. Sherman’s office. On the ride there, Zoe sees she’s gotten an email from HR at White Health. There’s general information - parking validation procedures, a copy of the job description - and then a page of bios. Zoe nods as she reads through the case management manager’s bio, impressed by this Naomi Coolige’s experience and background. She scrolls down a little to see the bio of the doctor she’s going to be meeting with. 

And Zoe thinks her heart stops. 

Alana Beck is a full time attending physician at White Health, where she specializes in internal medicine, sexual health, immune support, smoking cessation, and partner support. She graduated cum laude from University of Pennsylvania with her undergraduate degree in genetics and completed a combined Master of Public Health and Doctor of Medicine program at the University of Wisconsin. Dr. Beck completed her residency at Rush University Medical Center.

No. 

No fucking way. 

No no no no. 

Alana Beck cannot be the person interviewing her. How is that fair? 

Also how is she a fully qualified doctor at, like, thirty one? That cannot be right. 

Whatever it is, it’s not fair. 

Zoe walks into Dr. Sherman’s office feeling ready to fight someone. Alana Beck. Alana Fucking Beck. 

Alana Beck, whose thoughtlessness ruined the end of high school for Zoe. Who was meant to be smart but who posted a suicide note online. Doesn’t matter that it wasn’t really her brother’s. It was a suicide note all the same. It had no place online. 

And Alana had no right to share it. 

Zoe used to fantasize about punching Alana right in the face. Or finding a way to ruin her life. Hurting her the way she hurt Zoe and her family. 

But then Alana graduated and the feeling faded a little. 

But there was one day in college. One that stuck out in her mind. 

Zoe’s campus was hosting some big event for Suicide Awareness Day. Despite her interest in psychology and her own personal attachment to the issue, Zoe wasn’t interested in attending. Not really something she felt safe doing publicly. The legacy of the project in high school had faded a lot, but Zoe still felt like showing her face at an event like that could attract attention she didn’t want. 

But then she saw the name of the Keynote speaker. 

Alana Beck. Co-President of the Viral Phenomenon The Connor Project, speaking on the importance of mental health activism. 

“We have to go,” Zoe remembers telling Nick. He’d seemed shocked. 

“You sure? Usually you avoid this kind of thing. And I know Alana… what she did...”

“Yes,” Zoe had said. “I know. But I want to do it. I want to go.”

So they went. In the end, Alana’s speech barely mentioned TCP at all. Mostly she spoke about how suicide was a public health issue. A social justice issue. She talked about breaking down stigma. 

There was a moment when she stepped off of the stage when Zoe considered finding her. Ripping her apart. 

But she didn’t. 

And now Alana was screwing up her chances with this job. How could Zoe sit across from her and play all nice and professional when she was personally responsible for the pain and suffering Zoe and her parents had endured after the note went online? 

“Zoe?” Dr. Sherman appears in the doorway. “You ready?”

Zoe nods. She heads into the office and sinks down on the sofa again. 

“How was your week?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

Zoe frowns. “It was going pretty great. Until my past bullshit came in and ruined it.”

Dr. Sherman raises her eyebrows. “Say more.”

“Well I…” Zoe pauses. “With the whole, like, time travel thing… how much do you know?”

Dr. Sherman smiles a little. “I know some. But not from your point of view.”

“So you know about… about the orchard fundraiser and the note?” Zoe asks. 

“I do know about The Connor Project,” Dr. Sherman confirms. Zoe flinches at the name.

“Do you know the real story?” Zoe asks. 

Dr. Sherman’s face forms an understanding smile. “I know that Evan Hansen was dishonest about knowing your brother, yes.”

Zoe nods. 

“Why do you ask? Why I know about The Connor Project?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

“I found out that the person responsible for putting the note online?” Zoe says. “Alana Beck? She’s meant to interview me for a job this week.”

“Oh.”

“And I… nobody ever her called her out for what she did. She’s a doctor now. She has this… stupidly successful life and she’s the reason… she’s part of why mine is so fucked up,” Zoe says, her frustration building. “Nobody ever called her out. I never called her out. She built this whole life on… on my family’s pain.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Have you worked out your list then? Of regrets?”

Zoe nods. Pulls out the small notebook she’s written them down in. “Yeah. I have a few things.”

Dr. Sherman smiles. “And is never confronting Alana Beck on it?”

Zoe shakes her head. “I… I wasn’t sure what counted.”

“Anything that you regret counts,” Dr. Sherman says. “And from what I’m hearing, you regret never saying something to her.”

“I do,” Zoe confirms. 

“Well, that sounds like a good place to start for today. Add it to the list and we’ll cross it off,” Dr. Sherman says, holding a pen out to Zoe. 

Zoe takes it. Never confronting Alana Beck. 

She looks at the list for a moment and then hands it to Dr. Sherman. She reads it over, nodding. “Good. This is good progress. Wonderful. Well, shall we?”

“Where am I going?” Zoe says. “Or. Uh. When?”

Dr. Sherman smiles. “You’re going where you have a chance to make another choice. If you’ll just step through the door please.”

Zoe stands up. Straightens out her shoulders. 

And walks determinedly through the door. 

She discovers she’s stepped into a bright, sunny day. It’s hot. 

“You sure about this, babe?” Nick asks her. Zoe starts. “I know this whole… Alana thing has made you pretty upset.”

Oh god. It’s the event for Suicide Awareness Day. She hadn’t thought about the fact that her ex-husband would be there. 

Zoe shakes her head, shaking it off. “Yeah. I want to go.”

Nick nods. Takes her hand. Gives it a squeeze. 

This is part of the reason she had liked him so much. He always just… let her make her own calls. He just trusted her to be right about what she wanted and needed. 

At least at first. 

Nick leads the way toward the event. He talks about some class he’s taking this semester, some class about the weather. Zoe forgot he had been considering a degree in weather and climate for a bit. He wanted to be a meteorologist. 

In the end, he became an accountant. Very different. 

They head inside of the student union, trooping up the steps to the cool and dimly lit auditorium. Nick leads them to seats in the back of the middle section, near the wall. Where Zoe won’t be obvious. 

Fuck, she forgot how paranoid she used to be. How convinced she was that she would be recognized and humiliated. How much of her early relationship with Nick was him protecting her from what she assumed were thousands of prying eyes. 

The head of the school’s NAMI chapter begins the event by talking about the prevalence of suicide, especially in people between 18 and 24. She talks about the gender disparity; that men and boys complete suicide at higher rates, but women and girls attempt more frequently. 

And then she’s introducing Alana Beck. 

Zoe knows she’s meant to be in this moment. To listen to Alana’s speech. To figure out what to say. 

But all Zoe can see and hear is Alana’s voice talking rapidly about the importance of rebuilding the orchard because her brother was obsessed with trees and she’s suddenly consumed with this. 

Anger. 

Alana Beck didn’t know her brother at all. 

Fuck Alana Beck. 

When the moderator invites questions from the audience, Zoe raises her hand. Someone else is selected to go first. 

“Um. Hi. My name’s Parker… I was wondering. If I could, um, ask you a question about your past advocacy work?” 

Alana nods her consent. “Go ahead.”

“Well, you see. I was pretty involved in the early days of the online arm of The Connor Project. And I guess… whatever happened to Evan Hansen? Why did he leave the project?”

Zoe watches Alana seem to physically shrink away from the podium where she’s standing. Her shoulder creep higher. She pushes her glasses up her nose. 

“Well. I… the thing is…” Alana glances around, her eyes big and fearful behind her glasses. She clears her throat. “The truth is that… Evan departed the project after we had a disagreement about the release of. Of Connor’s note.”

The room goes silent. You could hear a pin drop. Zoe feels her heart in her throat. 

She doesn’t remember this. 

She had been so angry. So focused. How had she not realized someone had asked about the project. 

Alana looks out into the audience. “With the benefit of hindsight, I realize now that… my decision to release that publicly was a mistake. The letter was meant to be private. And Connor’s family was… quite viciously targeted after the release of that letter. And I continue to regret that I was never able to properly apologize for the pain and harassment they suffered because of my decision to release Connor’s note.”

Zoe doesn’t feel like she can breathe. 

“Suicide is a delicate thing to handle in the public eye. And at seventeen, I was not equipped to see the harms that releasing of the note could cause. I see them now. Most media guides about covering suicide do not reprint any part of suicide notes, with good reason. It can be traumatic. It can be triggering for people already coping with suicidal thoughts. It can trigger copy cats…” Alana pauses and wipes her eyes. “I can’t know how many people suffered because of my decision. But that is part of why I am so committed to continued advocacy for better mental health care in this country. Because I cannot undo those harms, but hopefully my missteps can be a learning opportunity. To encourage other advocates to make better, more trauma-informed and sensitive decisions.”

The Q&A continues. 

Alana maintains a very professional demeanor. Nick keeps squeezing Zoe’s hand.  When the event finishes, Zoe looks at Nick. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Nick looks shocked. “Are you sure about that? I mean. You don’t talk about…”

“I’m going to talk about her,” Zoe repeats firmly. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Nick nods. Doesn’t offer to come with her, which Zoe appreciates. She needs to do this on her own.  She marches up toward the front of the auditorium, her shoulders back, head held high. She approaches the stage. 

The NAMI kid heads her off. “I’m sorry, Alana is due to record an episode of our podcast, so she’s not taking additional questions.”

But Alana is looking at her. “It’s alright,” she says. “Could I have a moment, please? I’d like to speak with her.”

“But Alana-”

“This is Zoe Murphy. I’d really like to speak to her,” Alana says crisply. 

She comes down the steps and stands before Zoe. They’re very close in height, Zoe sees. 

Alana leads them to a more secluded area of the auditorium, away from people who might be watching and listening in. 

Alana gives Zoe an apprehensive look. “Hello Zoe.”

“Alana,” Zoe returns. 

“I was… when I took this speaking engagement, I was hoping I might bump into you,” Alana says in a rush. “I’ve been considering contacting you for ages.

Zoe crosses her arms over her chest. “Is that so?”

Alana nods. “It is. I wanted to… to apologize. To you, personally. I… I know how much I messed up by putting Connor’s note online,” Alana says. 

Zoe flinches. Balls her hands into fists. “It wasn’t his,” she says without meaning to. “Connor didn’t write that note.”

Alana looks alarmed. “What are you saying?”

Zoe shakes her head. “You’re telling me you really don’t know?”

Alana looks down at her feet. “It was Evan’s?” She asks. 

Zoe nods. 

Alana shakes her head. “God, I should have known. I suspected… parts of the story didn’t add up. I should have realized… Why would he say it was Connor’s?”

Zoe shoves her hands into her pockets. “My brother… he took it from Evan, I guess? In the computer lab right before he… And my parents, when the coroner found it in his pocket…?”

Alana moves her arm like she might grip Zoe’s shoulder but thinks better of it. She bites her lip. “I am so sorry,” Alana says. “I should have realized. I should have put a stop to everything when I started to see inconsistencies in the emails. I could have stopped him.” She shakes her head. “I could have stopped myself.

Zoe opens her mouth to reply, to call her out, drag her until she feels as low as Zoe does. 

Instead she hears herself ask, “Did you mean it? What you said up there? About regretting it?”

Alana nods gravely. “Everyday. God, I… I look back and I don’t know what I was thinking.” She blinks a few times rapidly. “There were copycats. People who would quote lines, post them online and then… and your family. My god, I can’t even imagine how you’re all still standing after everything that happened. I am genuinely so sorry.”

Zoe stares at her. “So why did you do it?” She asks. 

Alana’s shoulders collapse. “Interest in the project was waning,” she says. “And I thought about the inconsistencies in the emails, and I was so afraid someone else might notice. I was so scared people would think I was a fraud for endorsing everything. I knew it wasn’t right but… I was so invested. So taken in by this message of mutual care and resilience and I thought… that it would keep the momentum alive.” 

Zoe nods. 

“I… in high school I felt. Just so… invisible,” Alana says. “And I could relate. To how Connor must have felt, having nobody. I just. I so desperately wanted to be… a part of something. To feel like I mattered. And I used The Connor Project to do it. But it wasn’t right. I was so wrong to do what I did.”

Zoe sighs. “People always tell me about what… what they think my brother must have felt,” she says after a moment. “How alone he must have felt. And I don’t even know if it’s true. But after that note went online? I felt alone. I felt alienated from everyone I cared about and…”

“I know,” Alana says. “I am truly so sorry, Zoe. You didn’t deserve the reaction you got. The only people who know what really happened within your family… are the people in it. And it was wrong for people to assume they knew Connor better than you did.”

Zoe feels like a hole has opened up inside of her. She stares at her shoes, trying to choke down the tightness in her throat. “My brother and I weren’t close. I’m not sure I really knew him at all.”

Alana makes another aborted movement with her arm. “I’m so sorry,” she says softly. She makes a soft, sad noise. “I wish I could take it all back. Everything about that time is… really fucked up.”

Zoe sighs. “It wasn’t all bad,” she says. She’s not sure why. 

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Zoe. I know how much damage I caused with my overzealous involvement,” Alana says, her voice bitter. 

“My senior year… my family and I went to the orchard a lot. Spent a lot of time there,” Zoe says. She’s not sure why she’s choosing to tell Alana Beck of all people about this.  “You. It wasn’t all bad. You guys gave my parents something to hold onto. Even if the story wasn’t… true? It did give us something good.” 

Alana sniffles. Wipes her eyes efficiently. “Thank you. For sharing that with me. You owe me nothing, but that was… kind of you. Kinder than I deserve.”

Zoe shrugs. She’s unsure of what to do now. Of what she’s even doing. She wanted to confront Alana, not comfort her .  “I just… I don’t really know why I told you.”

Alana smiles at her. “If I had to guess, it’s probably because you’re a good person.”

Zoe stares at her, shocked. “I… thank you.”

Alana wipes her face once more. “I hate to cut this short, but I do need to record this podcast. But if you’re open to it, I’d be happy to talk again. I’m still on social media, if you wanted to reach out?”

“Thanks,” Zoe says softly. 

Alana grips Zoe’s shoulder very briefly. “Thank you. For talking to me. It can’t have been easy for you.”

Zoe nods. 

Alana strides off. 

And Zoe heads up the center aisle of the auditorium, her head full and her eyes stinging a bit. 

She never expected Alana to be remorseful. She assumed… she assumed Alana would stick to her guns. Stick to her insistence that she had done the right thing. 

Not that she’d be reflective and sorry. That she would own her own desperation to be a part of something. 

Zoe pushes the door of the auditorium open. 

And steps back into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

Dr. Sherman smiles. “Welcome back. How was it?”

Zoe settles on the sofa. “Weird. Very weird.”

“How’s that?”

Zoe puts her head in her hands. “For… years, I’ve hated her. I thought I was going to cuss her out. But she apologized. She’s sorry. She knows what she did was wrong. And she only did it because she was… a lonely and dumb teenager.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Go on.”

“I’ve built her up, in my head. As the person to orchestrated my life falling apart. But she was a kid,” Zoe says. “We were all kids. Fuck, it’s really fucked up to hate a seventeen year old for being stupid and reckless.”

“How’s that?”

“Because I was stupid and seventeen too,” Zoe says. “And I blamed everyone around me, but I fucked some stuff up too. I mean. I wasn’t an angel at seventeen. I was angry. All the time, I was so angry. But I wasn’t angry for the real reasons.”

“And what do you think those were?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

Zoe crosses her arms over her chest. “Because I was hurt. And my brother died. And my parents were wrecks. And people were awful. But Alana, she didn’t make them be assholes to me. She didn’t control them. She just… made a mistake.”

Dr. Sherman nods. Writes something down on her clipboard. “Do you think you’ll forgive Alana?”

Zoe shrugs. “I… I don’t know.”

Dr. Sherman nods again. “Thank you for your honesty. Many people? They assume the correct answer to a question like that is to say yes. But truthfully, the only right answer is the real one. The one you mean.”

Zoe doesn’t know what the fuck that means. But she nods. 

“So, what will you do about your interview? Will you cancel?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

“No,” Zoe says. “I don’t think I will. I think… the job is a good fit. And I owe it to myself not to write it off just because Alana works there.”

Dr. Sherman basically beams. “I wish you the best of luck in your interview then.” She looks at her watch. “Now that is about our time.”

Zoe nods. 

“How has this been for you? Reliving and remaking these experiences?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

“Well, I still feel a lot like I’m making this up,” Zoe says. “But I… I feel good about it?”

“I appreciate the cautious optimism,” Dr. Sherman says. “See you next week?”

Zoe smiles. “I’ll be here.”

 

On Thursday, Zoe dresses for her interview. Makes the journey by bus to arrive on time, clutching a copy of her resume. 

She’s brought up to the top floor in an elevator by a receptionist. Greeted by a harassed looking Black woman in a sharp suit. “Hello Zoe. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Naomi Coolige.”

“So nice to meet you ,” Zoe says, shaking hands. 

She’s led into a small office, and inside she sees Alana. She’s wearing a white lab coat over some green scrubs. 

“And this is Dr. Alana Beck.”

Alana’s eyes go wide. “Zoe Murphy, oh my god. I should have realized.”

Naomi’s smile falters. “You know each other?”

Alana shakes her head. “Not well. We were barely acquaintances, but we went to the same high school. Small world, right? I just didn’t connect the dots that it would be the same Zoe. I was just telling Naomi how impressed I was with your materials.”

Zoe smiles. 

“Shall we get started?”

Zoe nods and takes a seat. 

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Summary:

Zoe revisits her former relationships.

Chapter Text

Zoe isn’t really an optimistic person. 

She’s not. She can’t be. Things have been way too shitty for way too long for her to start feeling optimistic now. 

But she does… feel a little bit less like she’s standing at the bottom of a mountain with a huge climb ahead of her with very few supplies. Funny, really. Zoe had wanted to be a therapist but she’s surprised to see that therapy is helping. 

Though there is still the insistent voice in the back of her head telling her she’s just officially lost her shit. Like, really? Time travel? Doing over parts of her past? Sounds fake. Sounds like somebody took a few too many Xanax and crashed out on their sofa and had some weird dreams. 

Maybe it’s not a good sign that she’s just… going with it. Maybe Zoe should be a lot more worried about the fact that she appears to have a therapist with some kind of Tardis for a closet. Maybe Zoe has totally lost her marbles and should have moved in with her parents so they can keep her from doing additionally weird shit. 

But there’s also the more persistent voice in her head that says if she tells anyone, then Zoe will have to stop. She’ll have to stop seeing Dr. Sherman. She’ll have to quit going back and revisiting these moments that still linger around her in the present like a bad smell. 

The thought of giving that up seems… unbearable. 

She has shit she wants to make better. And Zoe actually has a chance to fix them. 

She has a chance and she wants it. 

Along with her cautious non-optimism comes an official job offer for the case manager position. Zoe accepts it immediately. It just… it sounds like something she would be good at. Something she might actually care about. And Zoe has gotten so good at not caring that she forgot that sometimes caring about stuff… felt good. 

It had been a decent amount of time since Zoe had felt good. Honestly. She can’t deny it. 

She’s been really unhappy. 

But now it feels like… maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Wild. 

The new job won’t start for a few weeks, so Zoe tries to use the free time to sort some other shit out. She clears out her closet, pulling bags and bags worth of old clothes out and donating them. She finishes painting her living room finally. She tries to… get it together a bit. 

She works with her car insurance guy to get a pay out for her totaled car. Goes with her dad one day to pick out a new car. It feels weird, honestly. 

Zoe expects him to do all of the talking, do the dad thing he usually does where he beats his chest and threatens to walk if the dealer won’t haggle with him. 

He doesn’t. 

“It’s your car,” he tells her. “I’m just here to make sure that nobody tries to take advantage of you.”

Zoe smiles. 

The dealer she works with is a decent guy. He talks to her in plain language about the pros and cons of the car she’s looking at. Doesn’t imply she needs to go for a bigger car because she’s obviously going to need one for a bunch of babies. 

It’s kind of refreshing not to encounter a bunch of sexist bullshit. 

Her dad keeps quiet and lets Zoe actually do the haggling. She’s happy when the dealership guy comes back and tells her he can work with her. She gets a nice blue sedan for her trouble. She’s happy with it. 

Her dad takes her out to dinner to celebrate that night. 

It’s been forever since they’ve done anything just the two of them. 

Her parents’ divorce has always been kind of a weird thing. They’ve split up, but neither of them seem to have a lot of interest in seeing other people. They still do holidays and birthdays all together. The only real difference is that they don’t live together anymore. 

It wasn’t always like that though. When they first split up, they couldn’t even be in the same room together. Zoe endured three awful Christmases, shuttling back and forth between their houses with Nick. 

“So, this new job,” her dad says conversationally over their food. “Is there room for growth?”

Zoe nods. “Yeah, there is. Plus once you’re there for a year, they give you a stipend for continuing education.”

“Yeah?” Her dad says. “Thinking about going back to school and finishing your degree?”

Zoe shrugs. “I’m not sure about that.”

Her dad gives her a long look. “It just seems a shame that you left the program with less than a semester to go.”

Zoe frowns a bit. “It just… there was a lot of other stuff going on.”

“I know,” Her dad says. He looks down at his plate. “Do you ever see Nick?” 

Zoe sighs. “Not really. I mean. We split up. We don’t have kids. There’s not a whole lot of reasons for us to keep in touch now that we’re divorced.”

Her dad sighs. “I guess I still… I don’t understand why things didn’t work out between the two of you.”

Zoe fiddles with her fork. “We were young and dumb. There wasn’t one big reason… just a million small ones.”

Her dad frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Zoe asks. 

“Well, your mother and I didn’t exactly set a great example,” he says awkwardly. 

Zoe’s not sure what to say. 

Yeah, her parents broke up. And yeah, it had been a long time coming when it finally happened. A really long time. As a kid, Zoe used to secretly wish they’d just break up… they could never agree on anything. But that’s not why she and Nick didn’t work out. 

“It’s not your fault,” Zoe says. “And I mean. You guys did try to tell me that getting married at twenty two was stupid.”

“We never thought it was stupid,” Her dad says gravely. “We just. We worried you… weren’t ready.”

“Well, you were right, so,” Zoe says. 

The conversation hangs over her for the next few days. She keeps thinking about how her dad seems to blame his crappy marriage for the end of Zoe’s. It doesn’t seem fair. 

Not at all. 

Hoping to distract herself, Zoe goes to a bookstore to finally buy one of the books she’s had on her list for ages. Her new boss had also suggested a book to her about the opioid crisis that might be helpful on the new job, so Zoe decides she’ll pick that up too. 

She’s considering some fluffy looking chick-lit title while she browses when Zoe spots him. Behind the check out counter, making uncomfortable small talk with the person who he’s ringing up. 

She had no idea he even still lived around here. Part of her had hoped he’d gotten the fuck out of this town. 

But well. She never did either. 

She thinks about ditching the books she’s pulled together and just leaving. No point in speaking to him. They haven’t seen each other in years. 

But another part of her remembers how good it felt to go and ovary up and talk to Alana Beck in college. And maybe this is her moment to do something similar. 

Zoe determinedly takes her basket up to the check out counter. 

“Hi, did you find everything okay?” He says dully. 

“Yeah pretty much.”

He finally looks up. Looks at Zoe. 

Evan looks like shit, honestly. Time hasn’t been kind to him. He’s got worry lines already. Flecks of silver in his hair. And apparently he works in this bookstore. 

“Zoe, oh my god, um. Hi.”

“Hi,” she says coolly. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Evan looks down at the books piled on the counter. “Oh uh. Yeah. It’s. New?” 

Zoe nods. 

“I- I mean. I heard you got married. Congratulations?” Evan says weakly. 

Zoe laughs. “I’m divorced actually.”

“Oh,” Evan says, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Shit. Uh. I’m sorry.”

Zoe laughs again. “Don’t be. I fucked his best friend.”

Evan’s cheeks go a bit pink. “Oh. Uh. Um, I mean…” He seems lost for words. 

He starts to ring up her books. Zoe pays and he hands her a bag. “Well it was… it was um. Good to see you.” 

Apparently, Evan’s still a fucking liar. 

Zoe doesn’t know why, but she finds herself saying, “Would you want to get coffee sometime?”

“Coffee?” He says weakly. “You want… to have coffee? With me?”

Zoe nods. 

“Uh… wh-why?”

“To catch up,” She says blandly. “It’s been a minute.”

Evan stares at her. Full on stares. 

Maybe she has totally lost it. What the fuck is she doing? Inviting Evan Fucking Hansen to coffee. What sort of insanity is this? 

“I get off in an hour,” he says after a long stretch of silence. 

“Great,” Zoe says. “There’s that place around the corner?”

“I know it.”

“Meet me there when you get off?” Zoe says. 

“Oh… okay then.” 

Zoe takes her bag and walks off. 

Tries to figure out what the actual fuck she’s up to. Zoe has no fucking clue what’s gotten into her. 

What exactly is her motivation here? 

She’s not sure. But it feels… like something she needs to do. 

The hour flies by. Zoe gets pulled into the book about the opioid epidemic before she realizes, someone’s shadow is falling over her. 

She looks up. It’s Evan. Holding himself awkwardly. “I’m just… Just give me a minute to order and…?”

“Yeah,” Zoe replies. She closes her book. “Actually I need a refill. I’ll come with you.”

Zoe gets her refill. Evan fumbles with some cash to buy a cup of black coffee. The walk back to the table Zoe has claimed. 

Evan still looks alarmed to be there. 

“So. Uh. Good book?” He says. 

Zoe nods. “Yeah, I’ve got this new job and some of my clients are going to be folks dealing with addiction. So. Yeah.”

Evan nods a bit frantically. 

She watches him. Watches him shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. Watches him start to reach of his coffee and stop, like he changed his mind. 

“Y-you wanted to…?” He tries. 

Oh. Right. This is her party. 

“How’ve you been?” Zoe asks a bit lamely. 

Evan gives a twitchy half smile. “Fine. I mean. Alright, I guess. You?”

Zoe shrugs. “Honestly it’s been a shitty year.”

“Oh. I’m. I’m sorry.”

Zoe shrugs. “So you still live around here?”

Evan seems to deflate. “Well. I wasn’t but. I came back so. Yeah.”

“Where’d you go?” Zoe asks. 

“Colorado for a while,” Evan says. “My dad got sick and… but then he died so. Now I’m back.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Zoe says. 

Evan shrugs. “It’s alright.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. 

“Well, obviously it’s not but it’s not… I mean it’s not your… it’s just. What it is.” Evan seems to sag a bit after he finishes talking. 

“Right.” Zoe considers her next words. “Your mom?”

“She’s… she’s good. Yeah. She’s good.”

“Good.”

“Your parents?” Evan asks. 

“They’re okay,” Zoe says. “Divorced now, which like. Thank god. I think they’ve finally stopped hating each other now that they’re not married.”

“That’s… I guess that’s good?”

Zoe nods. 

“And you live around here?”

Zoe nods again. “Moved back right before I split with my ex. I was kind of all over for a while. California for a bit, then Chicago, back here for grad school… so yeah I’m back.”

“Grad school?”

Zoe laughs. “Didn’t work out.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah I had this big idea about becoming a therapist,” Zoe says, weirdly emboldened to be honest. “But then I finished my clinical placements and couldn’t do it anymore.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“What about you? College and whatever. Where’d you go?”

Evan looks down at his coffee cup. “Nowhere. Didn’t even last a semester.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Evan shrugs. “It was just… a lot. For me. People knew who I was, and then with the… the copycats… I just. I couldn’t hack it.”

Zoe watches him for a moment. “I didn’t know,” she says after a moment. “About the copycats. Not until recently.”

Evan looks at her with wide eyes. “Yeah. There were. A few. I got... there were messages? People would write to me and…”

“Fuck,” Zoe says. “That’s. Really fucked up.”

Evan tries to smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“I guess I didn’t know… that shit must have sucked for you,” Zoe says. 

Evan shrugs. 

“You didn’t say. When we met up that time, at the orchard.”

Evan shrugs again, almost violently. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t something I… it was my fault and. You had been through hell already so.”

“Man, what a mess,” Zoe breathes out. 

Evan nods. 

“So you know my dirty laundry. What about you? Married? Kids?”

Evan lets out a sad laugh. “Uh. No. Nothing like that.”

“Girlfriend?” Zoe asks. Evan shakes his head. “Boyfriend?” She jokes. 

He just shakes his head again. “No I’m just… single. I guess.”

Zoe nods. 

Evan sucks in a breath. “Why am I here, Zoe?” He says suddenly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just… what is this? You want to… yell at me? Because I… I really am sorry. I never should have let things go that far and I know I really fucked up…”

“I’m not… It was a long time ago,” Zoe says after a while. 

“Was it?” Evan says, a bit desperately. “Because sometimes… sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed at all.”

Zoe doesn’t know what to say to that. At all. She feels like her brain is jammed. 

“Are you okay, man?” She asks carefully. 

Evan lets out a bitter laugh. “Is anybody?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I’m really… I don’t know if I can be here.”

“Alright,” Zoe says, trying to keep her voice even. “You can go. I’m not going to keep you.”

“Just… you have to know,” Evan says, a little more desperation creeping into his voice. “How sorry I am. I am. I’m so sorry. I fucked up so much and I’m so sorry.”

“Evan. I know,” Zoe says. “You apologize a lot.”

Evan flinches. “I…” He gets up. 

“Do you still think about it?” Zoe finds herself asking. 

Evan recoils. “Think about what?”

Zoe raises her eyebrows significantly. 

Evan looks genuinely like someone on the verge of a breakdown. He looks horrified. “I have to go,” he rasps. “I’m so sorry. I’m glad you’re well but I need to… I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry.”

He makes a hurried exit, leaving Zoe sitting there with his untouched cup of coffee and her brain feeling like it could burst. 

He’s not okay. For the longest time, Zoe just assumed he was… fine. That he had to be fine. He had seemed fine that day in the orchard. 

But he is so clearly not. 

And she hates how her guts twist guiltily. Because she didn’t know what she wanted when she asked him to coffee, but Zoe realizes part of her… expected to be able to… 

Rub his face in the damage he’d done to her. 

Show him that he hadn’t broken her, but he had done some serious damage. 

Only. 

Maybe she’d broken him. Or he’d broken himself. 

The fact was that it wasn’t good. 

And Zoe isn’t alright with that. She just…isn’t. 

She gets up. Puts the coffee cups into the bus trays and gathers her things, heading for the door. Maybe she can catch him or something. Get him to talk. She pushes through the door. 

And steps into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

Zoe looks around, bewildered. “Um. It’s not Monday?” She says stupidly. 

Dr. Sherman nods. “I thought today called for an emergency session.”

Zoe wrinkles her nose. “Are you spying on me?”

Dr. Sherman raises her eyebrows. “I’ve said before that I… know things. And I know you decided to meet with Evan Hansen for coffee today. And that he left quite distraught.”

“I wasn’t trying to mess with him,” Zoe says softly. “I wasn’t. I just. I thought…”

“You’re looking for answers,” Dr. Sherman surmises. 

“Well. Yeah. I guess.”

“I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for from Evan,” Dr. Sherman says. 

Zoe crosses her arms and sits. “What am I looking for then? Since you apparently know everything.”

“Truthfully? I think you’re trying to piece together how you’ve ended up where you are,” Dr. Sherman says. “I think you’re hoping to figure out why you’re alone.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I know why I’m alone. I fucked someone else and it ended my marriage.”

“Is that the truth?” Dr. Sherman asks her. 

“Yes,” Zoe says immediately. 

“And you’re sure?” She says. 

Zoe nods. “I mean, yeah. It’s on the list, isn’t it? I regret that I slept with Andrew because it ruined everything with Nick.”

“And before that, you and Nick were fine? Happy?”

Zoe nods. “We were.”

Dr. Sherman sighs. “Zoe, I… people who are happy don’t typically step outside of their relationships.”

Zoe shrugs. “I mean. We were happy… but I wasn’t.”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“And I guess…” Zoe shakes her head. “Why are we talking about this? Aren’t I here because of Evan?”

“No,” Dr. Sherman says. “You’re here because of you. Because of your uncertainty, your own characterization of how you found yourself without any meaningful relationships.”

“I have meaningful relationships,” Zoe protests. 

“Other than your parents.”

Zoe opens her mouth to protest, but finds her throat has gone dry. 

“I think you went to Evan because being with him was the last time you felt truly connected to someone,” Dr. Sherman says. 

“Okay, that’s just totally not true.”

“Then why did you sleep with Nick’s best friend?” Dr. Sherman asks again. 

“Because! Because I… I didn’t want to be married anymore,” Zoe says, surprising herself. 

“But why Andrew? Why not simply ask Nick for a divorce?” 

“Because… because he didn’t listen to me,” Zoe explains. “Because no matter how many times or how many ways I said I wasn’t happy, he just… he kept trying to fix things. Fix me.

“That sounds really hard,” Dr. Sherman says, nodding. 

“I just. I couldn’t figure out how else to make him listen,” Zoe confesses softly. 

Dr. Sherman purses her lips. “Is that why you tried to speak to Evan?”

Zoe blinks. “What do you mean?”

Dr. Sherman fixes her with a look. “Was Evan someone who listened?”

Zoe shrugs. “I thought so. At the time, yeah, he… he’d just. He’d let me talk. He’d let me… say how I felt.”

“But Nick didn’t,” Dr. Sherman says. 

“I’m not sure he knew he had to,” Zoe says. “I’m not sure he had any idea. He swooped in and fixed my whole life… I’m not sure he had any idea… Nick didn’t understand. His life was perfect. Perfect, happy family. Perfect job, perfect siblings, perfect everything. He didn’t get it.”

“How might it have looked to make him understand?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

“You tell me,” Zoe replies. “You’re the one with the magic… closet or whatever.”

Dr. Sherman smiles. “You want to go back?”

“I mean, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? You pulled me in here in the middle of the day - which was super weird, by the way, and I have a lot of questions about the physics of all of this,” Zoe says hotly. 

“You aren’t supposed to do anything. I’m asking what you want, ” Dr. Sherman tells her. 

Zoe sighs. “I… I do wish I’d ended things with Nick differently.”

“So. Try again. See how it goes.” 

Zoe hangs her head. “I don’t know if I’m ready. To see him like that again. I haven’t sent him since we signed the divorce papers…”

“What are you afraid will happen if you see him again?”

Zoe thinks. “Honestly? I’m scared I’ll make things… worse.”

“Worse than sleeping with his best friend?” 

Zoe nods. “It was so easy just to… do what he wanted. Be who he wanted.”

“Until you couldn’t anymore.”

Zoe sighs. “Alright. Put me in, coach. I’ll give it a shot.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “If you’ll head through the door please.”

Zoe stands up and heads through the door, her heart fluttering a little. 

She steps out into the foyer of Nick’s parents’ house. Nick is beside her in his winter coat, a big smile on his face. “Mom, dad! We’re here!”

Zoe blinks a few times. Her cheeks feel cold. Her shoes have a little bit of snow on them. 

Right. 

It was Christmas Eve. 

“Nick!” Andrew greets them, coming into the foyer. He’s in a faded hoodie but he’s smiling. “Zoe! Hey!”

“Hey Drew,” Zoe says quietly. She toes off her shoes. Nick takes the presents out of her hands so she can hang up her coat. 

“Katie just got back,” Andrew goes on. “Last minute shopping.”

“Sounds like her,” Nick says, winking at Zoe. 

Nick’s little sister was… so normal. A little flighty. A little bit of a space cadet sometimes, the type to forget a gift for someone, leave things to the last minute. 

Nick kisses Zoe’s cheek. “Just going to take our bags upstairs, babe. Be back.”

He hurries off. 

Andrew nudges Zoe. “You look like you need eggnog.”

Zoe grins a bit and follows Andrew into the kitchen. He sneaks her a mug full of eggnog and winks. “How’s school going? Nick says you just did your clinicals.”

Zoe nods. “Yeah. Honestly it was… a lot harder than I expected.”

“Yeah?” 

Zoe nods. “I never know what’s going to be a helpful thing to say to people… I think I’m too blunt.”

“I can see it,” Andre laughs. “You’re seeing some loser like me, and you just go ‘suck it up and get a job asshole.’”

Zoe laughs. 

“Zoe! You’re here!” 

She turns to see Sally - Mrs. Schultz - coming toward her. She pulls Zoe into a tight tight hug. Warm and just a little suffocating. She pulls back and looks at Zoe in the eye. “How are you sweetheart? I know how tough the holidays can be for you.”

Zoe forces herself not to frown. “Hanging in there.”

“Nick says you didn’t go with your parents this year?” She sounds a little disapproving. 

“Just wasn’t up for it, I guess,” Zoe says. 

“I know it’s hard, sweetheart, but it’s Christmas. I’m sure your brother would have appreciated a visit,” Sally tells her. 

Zoe always found it frustrating that Sally was sure she knew what precisely her brother would have wanted, despite the fact that she never met him. 

Zoe shrugs. 

“Let’s move this to the living room,” Sally says. “Drew, will you put the kettle on?”

“Of course.”

That was the thing about Nick’s perfect little nuclear family: they took in strays. Nick’s best friend Andrew has basically lived with them since he and Nick graduated. And Jenny, Katie’s girlfriend, she was scooped up by the Schultzes too. 

And then they took in Zoe in college. Poor girl with the dead brother and unhappy parents. 

In the living room, Jonah, Nick’s father, was watching Elf. “Zoe-girl, how are you?” He greets her with a big hug as well. 

“I’m alright.”

“How are your folks? Sally tells me you didn’t want to go to the cemetery this year.”

Zoe breathes through her nose. “Yeah, I just… wasn’t up for it this year.”

“Maybe in the new year, yeah?” He says. It’s probably not intended to be pointed, but Zoe feels like it is. 

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Nick comes down the stairs, all decked out in an ugly Christmas sweater. He hugs his parents and then has a seat next to Zoe on the sofa. 

“So, Aunt Millie is getting here in about an hour,” Sally says. “And her kids will be here by five, with Uncle Brad.”

“Full house this year,” Andrew comments. 

Zoe nods. 

The Schultzes do a big Christmas party every year. There’s tree trimming and games and singing carols on a real baby grand piano that Nick grew up playing. 

Zoe used to love it. It was like… Hallmark movie perfection. This whole huge extended family, all together. Everyone joyful and happy. 

Everything her family wasn’t. 

It was perfect. It felt perfect. 

Until suddenly it just felt different. Like a slog, not a Christmas card. 

“Zoe was telling me that clinicals were tough,” Andrew says then. 

“Oh, you are so brave, honey,” Sally says with a sympathetic click of her tongue. “With everything you’ve been through, you still want to help troubled people. That’s so noble.”

Zoe holds her tongue. Doesn’t say that most of her clients are no more troubled than she is. They’re just… getting by the best they know how. 

“Zoe is the bravest girl I know,” Nick says, a little boastful. “I could never do what she does.”

Zoe feels everyone looking at her. Her face goes warm. “I mean. It’s not… I mean. It’s really rewarding?”

“Oh of course it is, sweetheart. You’re doing the Lord’s work,” Sally says. “Now, who wants to help me get some nibbles ready?”

Nick jumps up. 

Zoe stays put, clinging to her mug of eggnog. It’s not nearly alcoholic enough if you ask her. 

Eventually she manages to get up. Helps Sally to get card tables of food set up. Assembles ingredients for the bar. Before any time seems to have passed, the house is full of people. 

Zoe is being towed around by Nick, talking to this cousin and that cousin. Chatting with Katie and her girlfriend. 

All night she hears the same refrain. 

“It’s so brave of you to be going into counseling.”

Zoe’s jaw aches from forcing herself to smile. She finds herself tipsy before long, because drinking seems to be the only thing she can do to keep from unhinging her jaw and letting everyone have it. 

Zoe escapes back to the kitchen after a bit, pouring herself another drink with shaky hands. 

“Hey,” Drew says. “Wanna come outside with me?”

She blinks at him. “Why?”

“So we can look at the damn Christmas star,” Drew says, tossing Zoe her coat. 

Zoe follows him even though she knows this is where the trouble starts. She knows. 

But she won’t let it this time. 

She won’t. 

They step out into the cold, out into the back patio. 

Drew pulls out a pack of cigarettes and extracts a joint. He lights it and takes a deep drag.  

Looks over at Zoe. “How’s it going?”

Zoe laughs bitterly. Takes the joint off of him. “Did you know I’m really brave?

Andrew laughs back. “Oh god, they just don’t let up, huh? They’re more broken up about your brother dying than you.”

Zoe shakes her head. “You?”

“Oh, you know… I’m going to find my path, apparently. Sure wish they’d y’know. Point me in a direction or something.”

Drew just dropped out of med school. He made it to his third year and just said he couldn’t take it anymore. The hours were demanding. He was up to his eyes in debt. The Schultzes were letting him stay with them while he figured out what he wanted to do. 

“It’s just exhausting,” Zoe breathes with an exhale of smoke. 

“Being the fuck ups? Totally. It’s just… God. I sound like an ungrateful prick. I know I do. They literally took me in. But god. Do they have to remind me every damn day?”

“At least you didn’t deny them a wedding,” Zoe reminds him. 

Drew laughs. “Yeah fair. You’re still in the dog house for that.”

Zoe and Nick had eloped. Got married over a weekend in Niagara Falls. Told their parents when they got back. They weren’t even engaged when they left. 

“Do you ever wonder how these people made Nick?” Andrew asks. He’s clearly a bit stoned now. 

“You mean how is he so normal?” Zoe asks. “Or do you mean… how long before he starts on this same shit?”

“Right?” Andrew laughs. “We better get back. Before someone notices they haven’t said something supportive yet condescending in twenty minutes.” 

Zoe nods. 

They head back inside. 

She ducks into the bathroom to spray herself with some air freshener, hoping the “holiday spice” smell will cover the weed. 

Nick corners her as she’s coming out. 

“Where have you been hiding?” He asks her. 

“I’ve just been talking to Drew,” Zoe tells him. 

Nick sighs. “Babe… I know how hard today can be. But… come on. Getting high at my parents’ Christmas party?”

Zoe feels her face heat up. “I just needed a little break from all the holiday cheer.”

“Don’t be like this,” Nick says, frowning. 

“Doesn’t it bother you? How they all talk to me?” Zoe says. 

“They’re just being nice,” Nick says. 

“No, they’re being rude. Maybe I just want to make it through one visit without having to play the poor grieving girl,” Zoe mutters. 

“I mean… Babe. Come on. Your brother died.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” Zoe says icily. “But I don’t need to be reminded every time I walk by someone. Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Nick says, looking hurt. 

“You know exactly what’s gotten into me,” Zoe tells him. Because he does. 

“We’ve been doing really well in counseling,” Nick tells her. 

“I don’t want to be in counseling,” Zoe says. “And I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home.”

“Babe. It’s Christmas, we can’t leave!”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Babe,” Zoe whispers viciously. “You know I’ve asked you to stop.”

“Zoe…”

“Do your folks know?” She asks. 

“Know what?”

“That we’re having problems.”

Nick hesitates. “They know that… grad school has been challenging for you. That you’ve been having a hard time.”

“That I’m having a hard time?” Zoe says. “What about you? What about how keep putting me in this box, this poor sad person box where you have to swoop in and save me?”

“That’s enough. You’re stoned. Go get some water, we’ll talk later,” Nick says. It’s almost snappish. Almost. 

He never snapped at her. Not even when she pushed his buttons. 

It was infuriating. 

When this happened the first time, Zoe marched over to the bar and started drinking like prohibition was around the corner. 

She got drunk and made an ass of herself. 

She won’t do that this time. 

She nurses one drink for a long time. Watches Drew get drunk across the room. Talks to one of Nick’s cousins about college. She wants Zoe’s thoughts about going into counseling. 

“I think you need to be a really empathetic person,” she says casually. 

Nick’s cousin’s eyes go big. “Oh definitely. That’s something I’ve always admired about you. You have such a big heart. You feel things so deeply.”

“Have you ever lost anybody, Amber?” Zoe asks her. 

Amber nods emphatically. “Oh yes. When I was twelve, my sixth grade teacher was in a car accident and died.”

Zoe frowns. “Nobody closer than that? A friend? Family?”

Amber looks confused. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” Zoe mutters. 

The party goes on. Zoe opens loads of lovely but ultimately generic gifts. Watches her in-laws open gifts of a similar quality from her. 

It turns her stomach. 

Eventually everyone retires off to bed. 

Nick keeps trying to talk to Zoe, but she’s not in the mood to try to make him listen after his performance all night. 

When he drops off to sleep, Zoe creeps down the stairs. 

Drew is in the kitchen, shoveling some leftovers into his mouth. 

“Hey,” Zoe says. 

She knows how this went. Before. 

She sits down. Has a drink with him. 

Then another. 

They talk about being fuck ups and losers in this family they don’t belong to. 

Drew tells Zoe he thinks she’s beautiful. 

And Zoe realizes this is the only way out. The only way to escape is to blow it all up. 

So she kisses him. 

And they fall into bed together. And when Andrew falls asleep, Zoe stays. 

Until morning. 

Until they’re caught and there is screaming and crying and betrayal. 

She blinks. 

“Hey,” Andrew says. “What’s up?”

“You want to hear something funny?”

Drew nods. 

“I grew up ten minutes from here. Next school district over.”

“I never knew that,” Drew admits. 

Zoe nods. “You want to go somewhere with me?”

“I’m kind of drunk, honestly.”

“I’m not,” Zoe says. She’s not either. She’s stayed sober. “Come on.”

The two of them take Nick’s car. Zoe drives. They go to a small diner, still open even though it’s a holiday. 

Zoe looks at Drew across the booth. 

“Everybody is always talking about my dead brother,” she says with a heavy sigh. 

Drew nods. “They talk about my deadbeat parents too.”

“Did you ever hear of… of the Connor Project?” Zoe asks. 

Drew laughs. “Oh, god, throwback. That was like the Kony 2012 of my junior year of high school. Some kind of joke, right? Some kid kills himself but we’re all supposed to care about some other kid with a broken arm? Bullshit.”

Zoe nods. “Connor…” she says carefully. “He… that’s my brother.”

Drew’s eyes go big. “No shit.” 

Zoe shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Wow that… that must have been pretty weird,” Drew says. 

“You have no idea,” Zoe says. 

“Damn. Nick never told me.”

“Of course not,” Zoe says. “Because if he did… well it’s not as good of a story. The truth is… I’m not some sad, devastated person. I’m angry. I’ve been angry for years. But nobody will ever let me.”

Drew nods. “I flunked out of med school,” he says. “That’s what. What really happened. I couldn’t hack it. I failed.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Shit.”

“You know, sometimes I don’t even think Nick likes me,” He goes on. “I just think. I make him look good. By comparison.”

Zoe feels that. She feels it deeply. “I’m asking Nick for a divorce,” she hears herself say. 

“Fuck, dude. That’s… heavy.”

“I think… when we met, he helped. A lot. Helped me put myself back together. But I don’t… I don’t need him for that anymore. And he won’t. Let go.”

“Does he know?” Drew asks. 

Zoe shrugs. “I keep trying to tell him… he’s not the best listener.”

“I’m sorry it’s not working,” Drew says. “Honestly. And no offense or whatever. But I’m not surprised.”

“That he doesn’t listen?” Zoe says. “Or that we didn’t work out.”

“Both?”

Zoe smiles a little. 

They head back to the Schultzes’ house. Drew bids Zoe goodnight, soberer than he was. 

Zoe heads up to Nick’s room. 

Moment of truth. 

She turns on the light. Nick wakes up right away. “What’s going on?” He says. 

“You and I need to talk,” Zoe says. 

Nick’s face falls. “Come on babe. Don’t do this today. It’s Christmas.”

“I’m going to go to my mom’s,” Zoe says. “Stay with her for a few days.”

“You can’t do this on Christmas,” Nick protests with glassy eyes. 

“I’ve been trying to do this for months,” Zoe tells him honestly. “You and I. We don’t work anymore. And I’m grateful, really, for everything you’ve done for me. But I need to be on my own for a while.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this now,” Nick says. 

“Nick. Listen. Please,” Zoe says. “I love you. And I will always love you. But I can’t be with you anymore. You don’t… see me. Not the way I really am. And I’m sorry, but I just can’t… keep pretending.” 

Zoe slips the ring off of her finger. 

“I’m really sorry. Please apologize to your parents for me,” Zoe says. She sets the ring on the bedside table. 

Nick picks it up. Holds it in his closed fist. 

Zoe stands up. Heads out of the room, pulling up a ride share and calling a car. 

She steps out of the door into the night. 

And steps back into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

Dr. Sherman is looking at her curiously.

 “I don’t feel like I fixed anything,” Zoe admits as she takes a seat. 

“And why’s that?”

“He still didn’t really hear me,” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“Maybe he never could,” Zoe says softly. 

“Maybe not,” Dr. Sherman says. “But you were fairer to him this time around.”

“You know, a lot of these… all I’m doing is sparing other people’s feelings.”

“Are you? Or are you just making sure yours aren’t taken out on the wrong people?”

Zoe sighs. “You mean Evan. Don’t you?”

“I do,” Dr. Sherman says. “Today was unfair to him.”

“I know, but… I. Everything leads back to what he did.”

“Does it?” Dr. Sherman says. 

“Of course,” Zoe says. 

Your choices… you think that they only happened because of his lie?” 

Zoe nods. 

Dr. Sherman sighs. “Well. Thank you for your honesty,” she says. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“That’s it?” Zoe says, feeling… frustrated. “You’re not going to tell me why you think I’m wrong?”

“No,” Dr. Sherman says. “I’m not. But I suggest that you… take time to think on it over the week. See what conclusions you can draw.”

“Why are you speaking in riddles?” Zoe snaps. 

“I can’t help you if you think all you’re doing is making other people feel better,” Dr. Sherman says. “You won’t progress until you understand that this is about you. Your choices. Your actions.”

“But you’re making me fix them! Isn’t that enough?” Zoe says. “I’m going back and undoing shit I did or didn’t do. Stuff that… that hurt people. That hurt me. Isn’t that the point ?” 

“Not if you don’t understand, ” Dr. Sherman says. “I’m willing to work with you but you need to do your part. You need to reflect. Really think back. Why do you think I brought you here?”

“I don’t know!” Zoe snaps. “I have no fucking idea what made you think I deserved a do-over.”

“And that, I believe, is why you don’t understand,” Dr. Sherman says, standing up. 

“But you won’t help me! I want to understand but you’re not giving me anything. What am I not doing?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” Dr. Sherman says. “On Monday.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. This woman and her fucking riddles. Zoe doesn’t have a clue what she means. None at all. “Yeah. Right. Thanks.” She snatches up her jacket and bag. “See you.”

She walks out the door. 

And she’s on the street outside the cafe again. Evan’s nowhere in sight. Zoe looks down at her phone to see that no time has passed at all. 

Fuck. 

What the hell does Dr. Sherman want from her? 

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Summary:

Zoe needs to talk about her brother.

Chapter Text

Zoe’s in a mood the whole next day. Just… a terrible fucking mood. She feels like someone has run her brain over a cheese grater or something. 

What does Dr. Sherman want from her? Why is she acting like Zoe’s some idiotic child who doesn’t understand anything?

Zoe gets the situation. Truly, she gets it. She’s not an idiot. 

Like, it’s her life. She clearly understands it better than anybody. She’s been the one living it. She’s been the one suffering through it, painfully, for years. 

So really what does this doctor know about it? Sure, she’s like… potentially a mind reader. Or Jesus. Or a Time Lord. 

There’s some kind of mystical shit afoot. 

Or possibly Zoe is going crazy. 

But still. 

She doesn’t know Zoe better than Zoe knows herself. 

She just doesn’t. 

There’s no way she does. 

Zoe’s so on edge that she nearly leaps a foot into the air when her phone rings. She glares at the damn thing. Who calls people anymore? 

Zoe picks up the phone, fully intending to hit “ignore” on the customer satisfaction survey from the car dealership that she’s certain the call will be. 

So she’s very surprised to see that it’s Drew. 

Why the fuck would he be calling? They haven’t spoken in years. 

Her heart starts racing. 

Oh fuck. What if Nick’s dead? Or his mom or something? Zoe would want to know. If someone in Nick’s family was hurt or dead. 

“Zoe. You need to come home right away. Something’s happened… just please come home. I’ll explain when you get here.”

Fuck. 

She slides to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Zoe, hey! Guess who is back in your zip code?”

“I’m. What?”

“It’s me dumbass! You told me to call when I was in town next, remember? I owe you dinner,” Drew says, sounding cheerful. 

Not like anyone is dead. 

“Is everything okay?” Zoe says, still suspicious. Still with her heart pounding. 

“Yeah, dude, why’re you being all weird. We’ve been talking about catching up for months,” Drew says. 

Zoe shakes her head. “Oh uh. Yeah. Sorry I’m kind of scatterbrained.”

“Fair enough dude. Fun!employment can do your head in. Anyway, I was thinking we could meet at China Garden? Catch up?” Drew says. 

“Okay,” Zoe says. She’s thumbing through her texts. And right there. 

Messages between her and Drew. 

A lot of them, in fact. Dating back months. 

Are they… they’re not friends, are they? 

“How’s seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” Zoe asks. 

“Yeah, why? You got a hot date? I thought that tinder guy was being weird.”

“No, uh. I’m free. Seven is good.” 

“Sweet deal. I’ll see you there.”

They hang up. And Zoe’s still not sure what happened. 

Somehow, she’s friends with Drew. Close enough friends that Zoe told him about the tinder guy. About losing her job. About being back in therapy. 

Zoe throws herself into getting ready. Trying to look like a person. Someone who goes out. 

Someone who goes to China Garden. The place that used to be her family’s go-to for birthday dinners for years. Until Zoe and her brother got into their teens and insisted birthday dinners were lame. 

Or at least. 

Zoe did. 

Their parents compromised and they held on for a few extra years. Got them through middle school by saying they could invite a friend. 

Zoe almost always brought her best friend in middle school, Cat. 

Her brother never brought anybody. 

When Zoe get to China Garden, Drew pulls her into a brotherly hug. “Zoe! Dude! You’re looking awesome these days. Being out of work suits you.”

“Shut up,” Zoe replies. “Ass.”

Drew laughs. 

They sit down and both of them decide on ridiculous, fruity cocktails. They bicker in a friendly way about what to get. Drew insists they get an order of crab rangoons. They place their orders. Zoe always gets the sesame chicken. Drew gets chicken pan fried noodles. 

Zoe stops for a moment. 

That is… it was her brother’s order. 

He and Zoe used to practice using chopsticks and then steal bites off of each other’s plates as kids. 

“So what have you been up to?” Zoe asks Drew, trying to focus. 

Drew smiles brightly. “You know. Conference circuit, really. My last paper seems to be getting some good buzz.”

Zoe nods vaguely. 

She has no clue what Drew does for work. 

“And what do you do again?” Zoe asks. 

“Ha. Very funny, asshole,” Drew says. He goes into his wallet. “Look though. I’ve got cards now.”

Zoe takes it. 

Drew works at some university. He’s the assistant director of outdoor experiential learning. 

Wow. 

“Look at you. Official.”

Drew ducks his head. “You’ll have to send me a card. Once you get yours.”

Zoe nods. 

Their food is delivered. They dig into it. It’s perfect. Just the right amount of bad for you. 

Without asking, Drew steals a bite of Zoe’s food. 

Zoe in turn steals a bite of his. 

It feels natural. Familiar. 

“So hey. Therapy. How’s that going?” Drew asks. 

Zoe shrugs. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “Sometimes it feels like I’m really getting somewhere. Other times… I kind of feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Drew nods. “Yeah, I get that feeling. But I think maybe that’s just part of the process.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Zoe says with a sigh. 

“You’ll get there,” Drew says with an encouraging smile. “And if you don’t, I’m here to kick your ass until you get back at it. Accountability buds, right?” He holds out a fist for her to bump. 

“Definitely,” Zoe says. She bumps his fist with her. 

“Not to get all mushy or whatever,” Drew goes on. “But I am… really glad you decided to give therapy another try. I know it’s been hard.”

Zoe nods. “Yeah. Sometimes it just… it gets hard to keep track of it all.”

“Totally,” Drew says. “My therapist? He showed me that he’s got a legit flow chart of all of my shit the other day.”

“No way,” Zoe says with a laugh. 

“Yes way. You’d think my stuff was complicated or something,” He says with a laugh. 

Zoe laughs. 

“But seriously. You’ll get there with therapy. It’s gotta help, right? Better than keeping everything inside right?”

“Right,” Zoe says. 

Once they’re totally stuffed and have eaten their fortune cookies (this place always gives out chocolate ones, with the world’s smallest scoop of ice cream in a plastic ketchup cup), persuades her to grab one more drink before calling it a night. 

It’s really easy to talk to Drew. Almost like they’re friends. 

You are, Zoe reminds herself. You’re friends now.

“So hey. I didn’t want to mention it but… did you see Nick’s getting married?” Drew asks her over a dark and stormy. 

Zoe shakes her head. “We don’t keep in touch.”

“Figures,” Nick says. “But I wanted to make sure you didn’t find out by accident.”

“He ask you to be the best man?” Zoe asks genuinely. 

Drew cracks up. “Jesus, Murphy, it’s like you want me to squirt rum out my nose. Fucking hell. That’s fucking funny. Nick ask me to stand up in his wedding. Could you imagine?”

Zoe smiles at him. 

So he didn’t take Nick’s side in the divorce. 

Interesting. 

Very interesting. 

Drew drops Zoe back at her apartment after their drink. Promises he won’t be out of town as often now that school is back in session. 

Zoe nods. Waves goodbye.

She feels… kind of like she’s buzzing. On talking to a friend. On having someone who isn’t her mom or dad who gets her. 

It’s weird. 

But nice. 

She appreciates it. Feeling seen. 

 

She spends the rest of the week trying to figure out what Dr. Sherman was getting at in their last session. 

Zoe feels completely lost. 

She doesn’t understand. 

Going back and fixing her regrets has been going well. Fewer people are hurting, herself included in some ways. 

What could she possibly be missing? 

She thinks back over asking Evan to coffee. Why she wanted to talk to him. 

Part of her wanted to show him she was fine. 

And another part of her… wanted to see if he was okay. If Evan was fine. 

But he isn’t. Zoe knows that now. 

She ends up creeping on him online. Looking for tell tale signs of there being an issue. Cryptic status updates. Moody song lyrics. 

All she finds is a scarcely updated Instagram page. For his mom. Not even one that belongs to Evan. 

The last post was of her and Evan. Celebrating Hanukkah. 

Two years ago. 

It’s not encouraging. At all. 

She debates dropping by the bookstore. Checking to make sure he’s still there. That he hasn’t just totally disappeared. 

Zoe feels really guilty. 

She shouldn’t have cornered him the way she did. He wasn’t expecting her. 

She hates that she might have hurt him. Hates that… that she’s worried he could hurt himself. 

It brings some shit up. The worrying. 

She remembers fights between her brother and her parents. Her brother storming off, shouting that he ought to just kill himself because being in this family was torture. 

She remembers searching his bedroom in a panic as a ninth grader because he took off for three days. She doesn’t remember what she was even looking for. Just. Something. He came back, of course. Right in the middle of the tornado of Zoe ripping apart his bedroom. 

Him calling her a freak and almost bodily throwing her into the hall. 

She remembers being twelve, watching as her brother seemed to be shrinking before everyone’s eyes even as he grew taller. He got quieter. A lot quieter. And thinner. And he developed this far away look in his eyes. Like whatever he was seeing was so far removed from the world around him. 

She remembers that the fear she carried turning slowly to anger. Didn’t he know how good he had it? Wasn’t he grateful for his life? Did he have to suck the air out of every room he walked into?

It leaves her feeling restless. Uncomfortable. Lost. 

She shows up to Dr. Sherman’s office. No closer to understanding what her shrink wanted from her than she was the last time she was there. 

Erica the receptionist is chipper and smiling as usual. “Oh good. You’re back. I wasn’t sure you would be.”

“I would have called to cancel,” Zoe says bluntly. 

“Not everyone does.” Zoe wonders how much Erica knows about what goes on in Dr. Sherman’s office. She wonders if Erica feels as crazy as she does. 

“Zoe? I’m ready for you.”

Zoe picks herself up and heads into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

Dr. Sherman settles into her chair. Zoe sits on the sofa. 

“So,” Dr. Sherman says. 

“So,” Zoe echoes. 

“Have you thought about it? Why you’re doing this?”

Zoe nods, feeling defeated. “I mean. I have. But honestly I’m…I have no idea. I don’t know what you mean at all.” She pushes a hand through her hair and blinks a few times. “I just. I don’t understand. And I don’t know why I don’t understand.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Alright.” She settles back into her chair. “Zoe. I believe we need to talk about Connor.”

Zoe flinches. “No.”

She doesn’t want to. She’s not ready. 

“You haven’t said a lot about him,” Dr. Sherman goes on. 

Zoe shrugs. “Not a lot to say. He died.”

Dr. Sherman looks unhappy with that answer. “Yes. I’m aware. But you don’t speak about him. Not about when he was alive.”

Zoe shrugs again. 

“What was your relationship like?” She asks Zoe. 

Zoe looks down at her shoes. “Mostly it was normal. Just, y’know. Sibling stuff. Normal. Boring. Until it wasn’t.”

Dr. Sherman frowns. “Can you say more?”

Zoe heaves a sigh. “We were pretty close in age,” she says. “Just about a year apart.”

“Alright.”

“So we did a lot of stuff together. Y’know.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Like. Tee ball. Music lessons. That kind of thing. Hung out with the same kids and whatever when we were little.” Zoe shrugs. She doesn’t know what to say. She hasn’t thought about them being little in forever. She hasn’t really thought about him being a kid in a very long time. 

“What was he like? As a little boy?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

Zoe frowns. “Annoying. He was a brat.”

Dr. Sherman raises her eyebrows. 

“Well. Sometimes. He was kind of a little shit. Always seemed to have something to say about everything. He liked to read. I didn’t always have patience for story time, but he was all about it. He was kind of… funny? He used to tell all these dumb jokes. Like. Why did the chicken cross the road? That kind of stuff.”

“Did you get along?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

Zoe frowns. “Sometimes. Not always. We’d fight a lot. Over toys and stuff. Our dad went ballistic once when he found out Connor kept stealing my Barbies.”

“Oh?”

Zoe nods. “Yeah, like. I had this Cinderella Barbie? She had like… tiny take glass slippers? And Connor used to take her all of the time. It made our dad so pissed.”

“Because he was a boy playing with a doll?”

Zoe shrugs. “Yeah, probably. I didn’t exactly ask why. Since I was like. Five.” 

She can picture the fights in her brain. Connor with floppy hair, hands in defiant little fists, their dad red in the face and shouting about how boys didn’t play with Barbies. Connor crossing his arms and saying, “You’re wrong. We can. I just did.”

“And how were things when you and Connor got older?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

Zoe stares at the floor. Hunches her shoulders. “They sucked,” she says. “He didn’t really have friends anymore. They all kind of bailed because he was… just. He wasn’t good.”

“He wasn’t good? How do you mean?”

Zoe shrugs. “He was just like… pissed? All the time. And he was… it was hard to be around him. It was as kind of like he sucked all of the air out of the room.”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“He was… I’m pretty sure he hated me,” Zoe says. “We didn’t talk much, but I’m pretty sure.”

“And how did you feel about him?”

Zoe sucks in a breath. “I hated him back.”

Dr. Sherman nods and writes something on her clipboard. “Why do you think that is?”

Zoe shrugs. “He was a dick to me. Threatened to kill me once, like. After a dumb fight. He chased me up the stairs and almost broke my door down just because I… I said something about how he was kind of a loser.”

Dr. Sherman’s face stays maddeningly blank. 

“I know how bad that sounds,” Zoe says. “And I know I could have been… nicer. I guess. But it was so hard to be nice to someone who was never nice to me.” She shakes her head. “And like. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize how bad it really was.”

Dr. Sherman quirks an eyebrow. “Do you think you should have known?”

Zoe hangs her head. “In hindsight, it’s… really fucking obvious.” 

Dr. Sherman frowns a bit. 

Zoe frowns, “That’s not it, right? This isn’t some… cosmic interference thing to go back and save him?”

“Unfortunately, bringing someone back from the dead would violate a lot of the rules,” Dr. Sherman says. “We can’t play god. Everything we alter is calculated and precise. Nothing of that scale can be changed.”

Zoe nods. 

She wasn’t really expecting a different answer. 

But stupidly maybe she… no. 

“What about your mother? How did she and Connor interact?”

Zoe frowns. “My mom? God, it was like… he couldn’t do anything wrong in her eyes. She felt sorry for him. All the time. No matter what he did.”

Dr. Sherman nods for her to go on. 

“Like. If we both had a bad day at school, she’d worry about him first. If I got teased because I had a loser of a brother, she’d tell me it was my job to stand up for him. It wasn’t fair. She clearly had a favorite.”

Dr. Sherman purses her lips. 

“You don’t believe me?” Zoe asks. 

“I didn’t say that,” Dr. Sherman says quietly. “I just wonder if you spoken to your mother about that feeling. That she preferred your brother.”

“No,” Zoe says. “It seemed… cruel. To mention it after he died, you know?”

“On your list of regrets, there’s something about an invitation?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

Zoe sucks in a breath. “Yeah. Uh. It was… it was stupid. There were like, a bunch of bar and bat mitzvahs when Connor was in seventh grade. My mom had talked to all the other moms, so she went out and got him a suit. Tie. All that.  He… nobody invited him to any. I heard her… telling Evan about it? When he first started coming around. She gave him this tie of Connor’s to wear. For the speech he gave…”

Dr. Sherman is watching her. 

“The thing is… somebody did invite him to one,” Zoe admits. Her face burns. She sucks in a painful breath. “I didn’t know it bothered him, not being invited. It seemed like he didn’t want friends. But he was out sick one day. And I went to get his homework… and. The teacher had paper clipped it to his assignments.” Zoe stares down at her feet, shame causing a lump to rise in her throat. “I was so mad. He had been a jerk the night before and then the next morning… neither of us were feeling well. But I insisted on going to school. I had perfect attendance until my junior year.”

Dr. Sherman looks sad. “You did?”

“Yeah. It’s stupid. But Connor got it one year and I… I felt like I had to beat his record. So I didn’t miss a day from like. Second grade to junior year.”

“Why do you think you never missed school?”

Zoe shrugs. “I don’t know. After a while I just… felt like I couldn’t.”

“You know,” Dr. Sherman says. “It always concerns me when children never miss any school.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because often it means… they don’t want to be home. They feel as if they can’t be home.”

Zoe swallows hard. 

Her eyes sting. 

“What happened to the invitation?”

“I threw it away,” Zoe explains. “ And. Our mom asked him a few weeks later, like, why he hadn’t brought home any invites and he… he got upset. Started to cry. Because nobody liked him and. I took that from him. This one stupid thing he might have had. I fucked it up for him. I didn’t even know who invited him.”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“I… I blamed him for so much. Hated him for all this shit. But he never knew that I was… I was the one who did that.”

“You were twelve,” Dr. Sherman says. 

“Doesn’t mean it was okay.”

Dr. Sherman tilts her head. “Do you think you’d do things differently? If you went back?”

Zoe shrugs. “I don’t know what good it would really do.” She swallows. “I don’t think I… I’m not sure I can see him.”

Dr. Sherman looks at her for a moment. “You haven’t asked to go back to when your brother was alive. Not once.”

Zoe’s eyes sting painfully. She struggles to draw an even breath. “I don’t. I don’t think I can. It won’t make a difference. It won’t save him.”

“No. You won’t be able to save him,” Dr. Sherman says softly. “But what about you? What could doing this differently do for you? For your life?” She grips her pen tightly. “Could it bring you solace? Comfort?”

“Does that matter?” Zoe asks. 

Dr. Sherman raises her eyebrows. “You tell me.”

Zoe shrugs helplessly. “I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready.”

“What would it take? For you to feel ready?”

Zoe doesn’t know. 

She honestly can’t imagine any universe where seeing her dead brother again is something she’s ready to do. 

“You know I was in that car wreck a few weeks ago?” She says. 

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“There was like… a minute. Where I was sure I was dead. And I really, really didn’t want to be dead. Not because my life is so great or whatever. But because if I was dead, and the afterlife exists? I’d have to see him. And I. I don’t want to see him.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Zoe chokes out. “He died hating me. He died knowing I hated him. And I can’t… I can’t. He’d hate me still. For all the shit I messed up. All the things I didn’t want to see.”

“He wouldn’t hate you at thirteen,” Dr. Sherman says quietly. 

“But I would know,” Zoe protests weakly. “I’d know all of the stuff that happens to him.”

“Then perhaps you’d have the chance to… appreciate it. The time you had with Connor.”

Zoe flinches. 

“Is his name hard for you to hear?”

Zoe swallows hard. It feels like her throat is full of glass. “Yeah.”

“You don’t say it much,” Dr. Sherman comments. 

Zoe shrugs. “I don’t… I just feel so… Guilty.” A tear escapes despite her efforts to hold them back. 

Dr. Sherman pushes a box of tissues across the coffee table between them. 

“I don’t even know why, ” Zoe says. “We all screwed up. Nobody is directly responsible.”

Dr. Sherman straightens her shoulders. “This may be hard to hear,” she says gently. “But… Zoe. Suicide is a choice. It’s a decision. A decision someone else made; a decision Connor made. You may not have realized how much he was suffering, but that decision isn’t your fault.”

Zoe sniffles. She can’t… 

She’s told her parents that. She’s told them that it wasn’t their fault. 

Nobody’s ever told her that. 

And then she’s just. Crying. Weeping. 

“I didn’t want him to die,” she mumbles. “But once he was gone… at first I didn’t even miss him. Because I was so angry. So pissed off.”

Dr. Sherman nods sympathetically. 

“I feel like I… I don’t deserve to see him again,” Zoe admits, her chest aching. Her heart hurting. 

Dr. Sherman smiles. “I realize you may not believe me,” she says softly. “But I think that’s the beauty of this process. It’s not about what you deserve. It’s about what you can make meaning out of.”

Zoe looks up. Stares at the ceiling. 

“Okay,” she says weakly. 

“Are you sure? This session has been tough today. I don’t want to push you if you don’t think you can handle it.”

“I want to try,” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman nods. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Zoe wipes her face. Stands up. 

“Through the door?”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

Zoe sucks in a breath. 

And steps through the door, only to step out into the hall outside of her childhood bedroom. 

“Kids! Dinner!”

Zoe starts to move toward the stairs. Her heart is pounding, racing like she’s run a marathon. She feels a little sick to her stomach. Her stomach hurts. 

He zips past her so quickly she barely catches a glimpse of him. Just a look at curly hair out of the corner of her eye. 

Zoe slowly makes her way down the steps. Walks into the kitchen. 

He’s at the table already. Staring at his phone. Not looking at anybody. 

“No phone at the table, Connor,” her dad reprimands. 

“Why not? Yours is always out,” He mumbles. 

“Don’t start Connor,” Their dad says. He sounds irritated. 

Zoe sinks into her seat. 

Her mom brings over a dish. Lasagna. Zoe tries to remember if they had cut gluten yet. 

Dinner conversation is basically just her mom monologuing about The Secret. Tries to get them to join in and talk about the things they want to manifest. 

“I’d like to manifest myself back in my room,” Connor mutters under his breath. 

To Zoe. 

She just looks at him for a second. 

It’s like being in another car wreck. Like she’s got whiplash. 

Fuck, he’s so little. Skinny and short still, shrimpy with overly long curly hair falling into his eyes. He’s hunching already, like he can feel the foot he will grow over the next few years coming on already and it’s causing his spine to bend. 

His nose is a bit pink. Like he’s been blowing it a lot. He’s coughed a few times too. 

He’s sick. Or faking it. 

“Zoe? You’re not eating much,” her mom says. 

Zoe shrugs. “I don’t feel good,” she says quietly. 

“Why don’t you go lay down for a bit,” Her mom says. 

Zoe stands up. She should stick this out. She should insist on staying. She’s supposed to rewrite history. 

She’s not sure she can be here. 

When she stands up, Connor lets out a laugh. “Did you sit on your food?”

“What?” Zoe says, alarmed. She looks back at the seat of her chair. 

Fuck. That’s right. 

She just got her first period. That’s what the fight was about. 

Her face burns. 

“Oh,” her mom says. She looks delighted. “Oh, Zoe! It’s your first cycle! Congratulations!” 

Her dad looks uncomfortable. 

Connor’s still laughing. “What the hell, Zo? How did you not know you were bleeding?”

“Watch your mouth,” Her dad says blandly. 

“I just mean, she’s sitting in blood!” Connor says, defensive. 

“Shut up,” Zoe says, her face burning hotter. She can’t hear his voice. She can’t hear it. It hurts too much. Her throat is closing. 

“I just,” He laughs a little awkwardly, uncomfortable, “isn’t it wet or whatever? How do you not notice your pants are wet?”

“Shut the fuck up Connor!” Zoe says, louder now. 

His eyes go big. He looks between his parents, waiting for them to call Zoe out for swearing at him. “Why are you being a bitch? Are you PMSing or whatever?”

“Don’t tease your sister,” Their dad says to him. 

Connor seems to shrink. It hurts. It hurts to see his shoulders collapse in, like his strings were cut. “Sorry,” Connor mutters. 

“That’s enough of the attitude, young man,” their dad snaps. 

“I’m going upstairs,” Zoe announces. 

“I’ll come with you,” Her mom says. “I’ll show you how to use a pad. Do you need some ibuprofen sweetheart? Sometimes you get cramps with your first few periods.”

“Stop it,” Zoe says, her eyes swimming with tears. “Stop! I already know h-how t-to use one of those, just leave me alone!”

She races up the stairs, away away from everyone. 

This is too much. It’s too hard. 

Zoe locks herself in the bathroom. Leans back against the door. Tears are pouring out of her. Hot and pitiful and painful. 

It’s too hard. 

She looks up at the ceiling. 

“I can’t do this,” she whispers, hoping Dr. Sherman will hear somehow, will pull her out. 

Nothing happens. 

So Zoe strips out of her twelve year old self’s bloodied clothes. 

Her underwear still have cartoon princesses on them. 

She rinses them out in the sink. 

She takes a shower to wash the blood from her legs. It makes little rivers across the shower floor. 

Zoe pulls on the bathrobe she keeps in the bathroom. Grabs a pad from the unopened box under the sink. 

Heads out into the hallway, where she collided head first into Connor. 

“Jesus, what are you doing?” She demands, angrily. 

“I have to pee,” he mutters. 

Zoe starts to walk toward her room. 

“Zo, hang on.”

She stops. 

“You’re… your leg.”

There’s a thin trickle of blood dripping down her calf. 

Fuck. 

Her eyes tear up again. 

“Here,” Connor says. Somehow he has a bunch of tissues crumpled in his hand. “I’ll clean up the floor, okay?”

Zoe sniffles and hurries off. 

She just. 

She can’t do this. It’s too painful. 

She’s still crying as she changes into her pajamas. Her body is so… small and foreign. Everything aches. Every single part of her. She can’t seem to stop crying. 

Zoe straightens her shoulders. 

She just needs to go through a door. Right? That’s how these end. 

She opens her door. 

But Connor’s standing there. 

“What do you want?” Zoe demands. She can’t seem to escape him. He’s everywhere. 

“I…” His cheeks are flushed. She can’t tell if it’s because he’s embarrassed or because he’s sick. 

“What?” She says again. 

“I just-”

“God, why can’t you just leave me alone? ” Zoe demands. “I just want you to go away. I don’t want to talk to you!” 

“Zo, come I just…”

“No! No, okay, go away! I don’t want to talk to you! I never want to talk to you again! Leave me alone, just leave me alone you asshole!” Zoe screams, her eyes pouring. “You’re ruining my life! You’re ruining everything for me and I don’t want you here!”

Connor’s face is really pink now. His nose and ears and cheeks. His eyes. “I wasn’t… I’m not-”

“Connor,” their dad snaps from the top of the stairs. “Leave your sister alone.”

Connor’s face crumples. “I wasn’t.. I just-”

“Go to your room Connor,” her dad commands. 

Connor’s shoulders drop. He looks at Zoe, mouth slightly open, eyes glassy and confused. But then he drops his gaze and hurries away and slams his bedroom door. 

Zoe’s heart sinks, and she starts to cry harder. 

Her dad approaches cautiously. “What’s the matter, honey?”

Zoe shakes her head. She can’t… she can’t do this. She can’t be here. She can’t see him, talk to him, listen to him because if she does it’ll destroy her, it’ll break her more, it’ll ruin the carefully constructed pieces of her life she’s been trying to put back together with tape and glue. She can’t watch it happen again. 

“Sweetheart, hey, what’s going on?” Her dad says, wrapping her into a tight hug. “Did Connor do something? Are you hurt?” 

Zoe shakes her head. “N-no, I just… I’m just…” 

She can’t say more. She can’t. Her legs give out beneath her. 

And her dad… 

He picks Zoe up. Because she’s little. She’s only twelve. She’s tiny and light and he picks her up easily and tucks her into bed and sits with her until she stops crying. 

Which is a long while. 

Because all she can think about is that nobody’s in Connor’s room right now. Nobody’s tucking him in, checking on him, making sure he’s okay. 



The next morning, her mom wakes Zoe up around 7:00 and asks if she feels okay to go to school that day. It’s an unusual question because Zoe always goes to school. She looks at her mom for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do. 

If she goes to school, she’ll pick the invitation up from Connor’s teacher. 

If she goes to school, she’ll have to be the one to give it to him when she gets home. 

Also if she goes to school, she’ll have to relive an entire day in the sixth grade, which is… far too much for her to handle as a thirty year old person. Time traveler or not. 

“I’m really tired mom,” Zoe says softly. “And my stomach hurts.” 

Her mom pets her hair sympathetically. “Okay honey,” She says, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll call you out and I’ll bring you some ibuprofen, okay? You deserve a long weekend.” 

Zoe nods. 

“Your brother’s staying home today as well,” Her mom says then. Tentatively. Like Zoe’s going to change her mind. 

She’s too tired. “Okay.” 

Zoe curls up on her side and tries to figure out what to do. 

She’s here to undo damage, but all she seems to have done is make things worse. 

The things she said to him weren’t fair. They weren’t how she felt at twelve; they were the secret, horrible things she never told anyone she thought at thirty. They were the words of a bitter adult who lost a sibling and never learned to deal, and she hurled them at her brother’s living, breathing, thirteen year old self. 

She hurt him. 

She came back so she wouldn’t and then she hurt him anyway. 

Zoe just… she doesn’t know what to do. How to bridge the divide. 

They weren’t close, not at this age. If she asked him to do something together, Connor would probably laugh in her face. 

She doesn’t know what to do. She’s scared to try to face him again. 

But Zoe can’t actually hide in this room forever. If nothing else, if she doesn’t do something, she’ll continue to be twelve years old. And that’s not a fate she’s prepared to accept. 

Zoe walks down the hallway, cautiously approaching Connor’s bedroom. 

The door is open, just a crack. She knocks. 

No answer. 

Zoe pushes the door open a little more, only to discover Connor’s bedroom is… empty. The bedsheets are still rumpled, but there’s no sign of him inside. 

He must be downstairs, she thinks. She’s not sure what he usually does on sick days. Her friends from college always reminisced about watching The Price Is Right on days off, but it wasn’t something Zoe ever did. She just… 

She never wanted to stay home as a kid. 

Because home… it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t good being there. Because her parents fought and her brother was like a dark shadow skulking through their house. From the time she was old enough to go to slumber parties, Zoe was a constant presence at friends’ houses on weekends. On the rare occasions when her mom would make enough noises about how she never invited friends to the house, it was almost always a disaster. 

Because other than Cat, people were… curious. About why Zoe never had people over. They wanted to know what the big secret was about her parents. What the deal was with her weirdo brother who threw a printer in the second grade. 

Which wasn’t even true. 

Connor had knocked over a printer in second grade. A big, bulky printer. Because Mrs. G skipped him as line leader, and he got upset but was too embarrassed to cry in front of all of the other kids. So he tried to hide behind the desks with the printers, only when he leaned back against it, the printer fell over. 

Zoe only knew this because when it happened, their dad was so angry. He spent the whole night yelling at Connor, even though Mrs. G had sent home a nice note explaining what really happened. He yelled in Connor’s face about property damage and how big boys don’t cry and Zoe found him later, curled up in the empty bathtub, hiding from their parents. 

“What are you doing?” She remembers asking. 

“H-hiding from dad,” Connor had told her. He jutted his chin out. “When he goes to bed, I’m gonna run away.” 

It’s weird. 

Remembering that now. 

That she’s twelve. 

And also thirty. 

Time makes no goddamn sense anymore. 

Zoe finds her mom folding some laundry in the living room. The television is showing The Today Show. 

Connor’s nowhere to be found. 

“How are you feeling?” Her mom asks her. 

Zoe shrugs. “My stomach hurts,” She admits. 

“I’ll get you the heating pad.” 

Zoe’s not really sure if the stomach ache is from cramps or just from possibly fucking this up worse. How’s she supposed to undo a shitty decision she made to hurt her brother if he’s not even around? 

Her mom brings Zoe the heating pad. She also brings her some ginger ale to settle her stomach and tells her she’s allowed to watch whatever she wants. 

Zoe channel surfs for a long time, struggling to find anything that might capture her attention. She’s too old for reruns of Mr. Rogers, a little too scared to turn on Sex and the City in front of her mom. Eventually, she settles on some show on Animal Planet about puppies growing up. 

Sometime around noon, Connor appears from upstairs, his head messed up and his nose still a little pink. 

She doesn’t understand. She totally checked his room. 

When he comes into the living room, their mom fusses about his temperature and asks him how he’s feeling. He gives her a shrug and a blank stare. Coughs a few times. 

“Well, here, you and your sister can just relax out here,” She says. “And I’ll go get you both some more ibuprofen and maybe a snack, huh?”

Connor eyes Zoe carefully. 

And cautiously takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch. 

Zoe watches him for a moment. He fiddles with one of his sleeves. There’s a fraying edge. After a little while, he reaches for the afghan their mom keeps over the back of the sofa. Pulls it around himself. 

He really must not be feeling well. 

“Shoot guys,” their mom says, coming back into the living room. “Looks like we’re basically out of Tylenol and Motrin, so I’ve got to run out quick.” 

Zoe and Connor both mumble their consent. 

“I’ll stop by the school, pick your homework up so you don’t need to wait until Monday,” She adds. “Sound okay?”

“Yeah,” They both mutter. 

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

The house feels a lot quieter without her there. 

The show about the puppies ends. Zoe pushes the remote across the couch cushion toward Connor. “Here. Pick whatever you wanna watch.”

Her brother regards Zoe apprehensively. 

But then he picks up the remote. He flicks through the channels for a long time, then sighs and puts on some weird countdown show of, like, the top twenty kids who have murdered someone or something. 

It’s weird. 

Uncomfortable. Zoe is at a loss about what to say. What she’s supposed to do. 

“Where were you earlier?” Zoe asks after two commercial breaks. 

Connor starts beside her. Like maybe he’s forgotten she’s there. “Nowhere,” he mumbles.

“You weren’t in your room,” Zoe presses. “And you weren’t down here. Where were you?”

“Nowhere, okay?” He says, his cheeks going a bit pink. 

Zoe drops it. Watches the show. This isn’t going well at all. How the hell is this supposed to make anything better? Is this what Dr. Sherman thinks she needs? Another memory of things being awkward and stunted with her brother? Another regret to obsess over now that he’s gone? 

Zoe feels completely lost. 

“So uh,” Connor says during another commercial break a while later. “Why’d you… stay home?”

Zoe shrugs. “I don’t feel good,” she says quietly. 

“Yeah but you always go to school,” he points out. “You even went when grandpa Murphy died.”

Zoe frowns. “I… I just didn’t want to go today.”

Connor nods. He’s fiddling with a loose string on the Afghan, a piece of yarn that’s always stuck out. 

“You kind of hate being here, huh?” 

Zoe blinks. “I don’t…”

“I mean, your friends never come over, you’re always over by Cat…” Connor says. He sounds. Angry. Or maybe… sad.

“I… Cat’s my best friend,” Zoe says helplessly. “And she’s an only child, so, like. Nobody

bugs us.” 

Connor chews his lip. He’s not looking at her. He sighs. “It kinda. Sucks. That you’re never here.”

“You don’t even like me,” Zoe retorts, without even really meaning to. It just comes out of her. This belief she’s held forever. Her brother doesn’t like her and she doesn’t like him back. 

Connor’s face closes off. He doesn’t respond. The show comes back on and they watch in silence for a while. 

“It’s because of mom and dad,” Zoe finally says. “They fight all the time. It’s embarrassing. Having people hear that stuff.”

Connor’s shoulders pull inward. “They’re always fighting about me, ” he mutters.

“Because I keep… I don’t get how I’m always messing up. But I am. And dad gets so mad, and then mom starts yelling back and… ” He sighs. 

“Dad’s kind of a dick sometimes,” Zoe offers. 

Connor”s eyebrows fly up into his hair. Like he can’t believe she’d say something like that. Like he can’t believe she could possibly mean it. 

“Like he can… he can be a jerk,” Zoe adds. 

Connor nods. 

Then he says, “We were supposed to dissect frogs. Today. At school.”

Zoe looks at him, confused. “Is that why you stayed home?”

Connor frowns. “No,” he says defensively. “I don’t feel good.” 

Zoe just shrugs. Like she doesn’t care. 

She does, though. She really does. 

“It freaks me out,” Connor goes on after a moment. “Touching dead stuff like that. Cutting 

the frog open?” He pushes a hand through his hair. His face looks really pale. “I kinda… when we started, yesterday? I sorta… passed out.”

“Oh,” Zoe says. She hadn’t known. 

“I just kept thinking about how it was dead, just all these dead things just sitting there on the table, and we were just… chopping them up.” He swallows audibly. He rubs his face. “I. And I thought about how, like, when you die, like, they chop you up too. Like an autopsy? They just. Open you up and cut out all your organs and I… I know it’s dumb but I kept thinking there would be blood.”

“Why?” Zoe asks. “The frogs, they’re like…full of formaldehyde or whatever.”

“I know,” Connor says, his voice hushed. Anxious. “It was stupid. It was really stupid but I just kept thinking that there might be blood and it… I freaked out.”

It dawns on her. “You’re scared of blood,” she says. 

“No,” Connor says immediately, but his cheeks go rosy. 

“You are! You’re totally scared of blood!” Zoe says, not quite laughing but. Close to it. 

“Shut up,” Connor mutters. 

“That’s why you laughed,” Zoe says, realization dawning. “Yesterday, when I stood up. You laughed because I was bleeding. Because the blood scared you and you didn’t want anybody to know.”

Connor looks away. “It’s… it’s so dumb.”

Zoe nods. 

“Just. Embarrassing. It’s just blood.”

“Yeah,” Zoe says. “It can’t hurt you or anything.”

“I know,” Connor mutters, his fingers in his mouth. He’s biting his nails. “It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

Zoe bites her lip. 

“Just. God . Dad already thinks I’m a huge pussy,” Connor goes on. “He just thinks I’m this fucking huge… baby. Like. He keeps telling me I’ve gotta, like, man up and deal and I know it’s fucking stupid, it’s so fucking stupid to be scared of this shit. But nobody would be my partner in bio so I was just stuck with this frog all by myself and then you stood up and I was all dizzy and felt gross and I…”

He trails off. 

Looks up at her. “Sorry I laughed. I know that sucked. I know I… I suck .” 

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, ” Connor says. “It was dumb and… like, fucking sexist and stupid. It was just blood. Nothing to be scared of.”

Zoe swallows. It’s painful. She didn’t realize he would be sorry. That he would care at all that he’d upset her. She didn’t know before. 

He looks at her after a bit. Right in the eye. It sort of disarms her. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks. 

Zoe shakes her head. “Not the bleeding part.” 

Connor wrinkles his nose. 

“My stomach kind of hurts. Cramps, or whatever?” Zoe adds. “That kind of sucks.”

He nods. 

And then as quickly as he started to talk, as quickly as the conversation became a conversation, Connor stops. Just shuts up. Bites his fingernails and doesn’t say more. She tries to draw him back into conversation. Comments on the stupid show. Questions about school. She even brings out the big guns and asks him if she’s read a book, a book whose title she totally pulls out of thin air because she can’t remember what was even popular when she was twelve. 

Nothing does the trick. Connor just won’t talk anymore.She’s lost him. Lost him to 

whatever’s keeping him inside his head. 

Their mom comes home. She’s smiling anxiously as she comes inside and gives them  each a dose of ibuprofen. She’s got two small stacks of paper with her. 

“Connor,” she says, her smile still tight and nervous. 

“Huh?” He’s blatantly ignoring the homework pile. He just shoved it on the table. Didn’t even look at it. 

“There’s… Mrs. Green told me. There’s an… there’s something for you. She put it with  your homework.” Their mom sounds so hopeful. So precariously happy. It's painful to hear. Connor's eyebrows knit together as she talks. Zoe knows he hears it too. 

“Okay,” he says. He doesn’t make any moves to look at the stack of papers with the  baby blue invitation envelope on top. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Their mom asks. 

“It’s probably a joke,” he mumbles.  “Probably. Somebody making fun of me.”

“Why would you think that?” Their mom asks. 

Connor casts his eyes over to Zoe. “Just. Because.”

Because it’s happened before, Zoe thinks, her heart dropping. That’s what he’s not saying. Because people make fun of him and he hides it. 

“Fine, then I’ll open it,” their mom says, exasperated. 

No !” Connor yelps. “No. I don’t want to see it.”

“Connor, you’re being silly, ” their mom admonishes. “Nobody is out to get you. You’re probably invited to go somewhere or do something. Just open the envelope.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re too old to be acting like this, Connor,” their mom says, her voice dripping with frustration and disappointment. 

Apparently realizing she won’t let up, Connor reaches for the invitation. He tears the  envelope open aggressively. His eyes scan the card he pulls from it. His cheeks go pink. 

So does the tip of his nose. 

Zoe watches his eyes skimming over the words a few times. Over and over. Like he’s  trying to find the flaw in the authenticity or something. Like he’s searching for the joke.  “It’s an… it’s an invitation,” he says slowly. “To Evan Hansen’s bar mitzvah.”

Zoe feels like she can’t breathe. 

She had no idea. 

None at all. 

Just no clue that it was Evan’s bar mitzvah that Connor was invited to attend. 

“Oh honey, that’s great!” Their mom says happily. “You can finally wear the suit we got  you.” 

Connor blinks a few times. His eyelashes are damp. “I…” he laughs weakly.

“What?” Zoe says. 

“He invited me to his bar mitzvah,” Connor says. He looks equal parts amused and distraught. “And I thought his name was Kevin ,” Connor says, still laughing, his eyelashes collecting more tears.

“Connor, that’s not very nice,” their mom scolds. 

“I’m such a jerk, ” Connor mumbles, still half laughing, half on the verge of tears.“I didn’t  even know his name.”

“Maybe don’t tell him that,” Zoe suggests.

Connor looks between her and his mom. “I’m not going.”

Connor, ” their mom says. “That would be very rude.”

“What if it’s a joke? What if he made the whole thing up and he just wants to embarrass  me?”

“Oh honey, now you’re really being silly,” Her mom says. “Why would someone do that?”

“Because I’m a dick who didn’t even get his name right,” Connor says quietly. 

“You’re going,” Their mom says. 

“No way,” he says. “He probably just invited everyone. He doesn’t really want me to go. And if I go, I’ll just… end up sitting by myself all night anyway, since nobody else will talk to me. I’m not going.”

“You should go,” Zoe says. 

Connor turns to look at her, his face flushed with embarrassment. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Zoe says. “What else are you going to do? Hide in your room?”

Connor’s face goes white. 

“Zoe, that wasn’t nice,” her mom says. “Apologize to your brother.”

“You should go,” Zoe says again. “Maybe he wants to be friends.”

“Screw you,” Connor whispers. 

“I’m serious!” Zoe goes on. “Maybe that’s why he invited you. Haven’t you ever seen Evan Hansen around? He’s… like. Shy. Quiet. Maybe he wants to be friends.”

Connor’s face is ashen. Devastated. He looks at her with shining eyes and says, “I don’t understand why you hate me so much.” 

And then he gets up and leaves, hurrying up the stairs. 

Zoe doesn’t understand what she’s done wrong. She looks at her mom, but her mom looks as lost as Zoe feels. She sighs, scooping up the discarded bar mitzvah invite and holding it in her hands for a moment. She looks so… sad. Her mom holds the invite to her chest for a moment. “I was afraid he wouldn’t get invited at all,” She says quietly to Zoe. “That nobody would…” 

“Did he tell you about the frogs?” Zoe asks her mom. 

“Frogs?” Her mom looks lost. 

“Never mind,” Zoe says quietly. “I’m gonna go lay down.” 

Her mom frowns a little. “Please don’t bother your brother,” She says. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him, but I think he needs some time to… cool off.”

Zoe shrugs. Fine. 

Whatever. 

No point in trying to do more here anyway. Everything she tries just totally backfires. Dr. Sherman just needs to pull her out already. Zoe didn’t throw away the invitation. She made sure her brother got it this time, and she’s still upset. 

So what was the point in all of this? 

If all he was ever going to be today was angry with her, was there any point in trying at all? 

Zoe opens the door to her bedroom, bracing to return to Dr. Sherman’s office. 

It doesn’t come. 

For fuck’s sake. 

Zoe slumps her shoulders and heads into her bedroom. Maybe the magic portal or whatever the fuck lets her do this is broken or something. 

She’s about to throw herself into her old twin bed when something on her desk catches her eye. 

There’s a bag of those little individually wrapped chocolates that Zoe thought were the height of luxury as a kid. Beside it is a box of menstrual pads, the kid girls at school used with their sleek black packaging. 

Zoe walks over to it. 

Tucked under the box of pads is a note, written in Connor’s familiar untidy scrawl. 

Sorry I was a dick. 

Hope the period thing doesn’t suck too much. 

Zoe stares. 

She doesn’t remember this. It’s new. 

She definitely would have remembered if her brother had apologized to her. 

She thinks back. To this day, version 1.0. 

She was pissed off all day at school. Pissed at her brother for laughing at her. Pissed enough that she threw away the invitation, just tossed it right into the trash. 

And when she came home, she spotted Connor about to head into her bedroom. 

And she lost it. 

Started yelling at him. Telling him to stay away from her, stay out of her room, quit trying to ruin her life. 

He called her a bitch and stalked away. 

Was that what he was trying to do? Give her an apology? 

That was… sweet.

Suddenly she felt like she didn’t deserve it. 

Zoe turns and leaves her room. Walks to her brother’s and knocks. 

“Go away mom, I don’t want to talk about it,” he calls back. 

“It’s Zoe,” she says hesitantly. 

It goes quiet for a sec, but then Connor pulls the door open a sliver. “What do you want?” He asks through the crack. His voice sounds rough. Like he’s been crying. 

“I’m sorry,” She says. “I wasn’t trying to tease you.”

“Oh.”

“And uh,” Zoe presses on. “Thanks. For the candy and stuff. That was nice of you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s no big deal,” he says. “Don’t be weird.”

“Okay,” Zoe says. 

“Okay.”

She turns and heads back to her bedroom. 

But as she steps through the door, she’s back in Dr. Sherman’s office. 

It takes a moment for her head to catch up. Zoe feels almost dizzy and sick with the sudden change. 

The shift back to a world where she’s a girl with a dead brother. 

“How was it?” Dr. Sherman asks. “Seeing Connor again?”

“I…” she tries. Fails. Words totally fail her. She can't begin to describe it. 

“Take your time,” Dr. Sherman says gently. 

“I don’t… it was really hard. Really fucking hard, ,” Zoe says, taking her seat again. 

“What was so hard about it?”

Zoe shrugs. “He was so… young. And I didn’t know. That he… wanted to apologize.”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“Did it make a difference?” Zoe asks. “I mean. Did he go to the bar mitzvah?” 

Dr. Sherman gives her a long look. “Yes. He did.”

Zoe nods. 

“Now tell me about you,” Dr. Sherman says. “What did you gain?”

“I never really thought about how… This sounds dumb, but sometimes I forget. That he was just a kid. When a lot of this stuff happened. When he…” Zoe can’t make herself say it. 

“Died?”

Zoe nods. “I mean. He was a thirteen year old boy. Of course the whole period thing was weird.”

Dr. Sherman gives her a small smile. 

“And he wanted to apologize. But I freaked out at him,” Zoe says. “Right?”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“He asked me why I hated him,” Zoe says after a while. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she admits. “Even now, I don’t know how to explain. That I hated him but I didn’t.” She breathes out. “And it wouldn’t be fair. To tell him that anyway.”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Dr. Sherman says. She clicks her pen closed. 

Zoe nods. She’s exhausted.  

She’s lived a long time since she stepped into this room. 

“See you next week?” Zoe asks meekly. 

“Of course.”

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Summary:

There are some firsts that aren't worth undoing.

Chapter Text

Zoe starts her new job that week. Thank god it’s a short week for her, because her head is a train wreck.  It’s intense. She’s lost more than she’s not.  Part of her is convinced she’s going to be accused of being a fraud. A fake. She got this job because of years of training and deep empathy.  And she’s just lost. 

Just counting the days until her next session with Dr. Sherman. Praying every door she opens will transport her to that office. 

Nothing seems to trigger it. 

Zoe starts wondering what she might need to do to get that office to appear. What kind of shit she’d need to fuck it. 

What she’d need to do to herself. 

Zoe shakes her head. 

That’s. Not. 

She’s not. 

She won’t. Just. 

It crosses her mind. 

She has awful dreams all week. 

Dreams about her brother, tiny and young with missing teeth appearing from inside of her closet, wanting to know why she hates him so much. 

“I don’t,” she tells him, but it doesn’t seem to help. 

“Liar!”

Zoe feels like she’s going straight up crazy for the first time since this whole thing started. 

It’s isolating. Knowing there isn’t a soul she could tell what is happening who would believe her. Knowing that she’s truly in this alone. 

It makes her feel… disconnected. From reality. From her life, whatever the hell that means. She keeps picking up her phone, wanting to call someone and realizing if she did, there wouldn’t be anything she could say. 

Nothing sane anyway. 

She’s exhausted by the time she gets to Dr. Sherman’s office on Monday. She’s hardly been sleeping, haunted by her brother’s memory. 

“Where do you want to start today?” Dr. Sherman asks her she’s staring vacantly into the distance. 

“I want to go back again,” Zoe says immediately. “I could… I want to fix things. With my brother. I could have tried more. Tried harder. I want to go back.”

Dr. Sherman looks at her for a long time. “No.”

“No?” Zoe repeats. “Isn’t this supposed to be about my regrets? Making different decisions?”

Dr. Sherman frowns a bit. “Well. Yes. That is the idea,” she says slowly. “But, after last session, I don’t know if it is wise to send you back to a point where Connor is alive.”

“Why the hell not?” Zoe wants to know. 

“Because… you said yourself a moment ago that you want to fix things, ” Dr. Sherman says. “And I need you to understand that there are limitations to what you can actually change. There are rules.”

Zoe frowns. “I know,” she says. “You told me. I can’t like… play god or whatever. I know that.”

“I know you know it intellectually. You’re an intelligent person,” Dr. Sherman says. “But I need you to hear me and understand when I say that there is nothing you can do to save your brother’s life.”

Zoe crosses her arms over her chest. “I know.”

Dr. Sherman watches her for a while. 

“I mean. I know,” Zoe goes on. “But I don't understand why .”

“During our first session, you asked me about the butterfly effect,” Dr. Sherman says. “And I said that it was larger mitigated because you were only altering your own life.”

Zoe nods. 

“Were you to stop your brother from ending his life,” Dr. Sherman says. “That wouldn’t only change your life. It would change Connor’s. It would mean you were controlling his decisions. It would be playing god. And that has dire consequences.”

Zoe frowns. “It just doesn’t seem fair,” she says softly. “Being able to see him, talk to him… and then stand by and do nothing.”

“I know,” Dr. Sherman says. She sounds sympathetic. “In some ways it is unfair. But I think you’re strong enough to do it.”

Zoe sighs. Pushes a hand through her hair. “So where does that leave me? If I can’t go back to when he was alive?”

“Well, tell me how you’ve been feeling since last week?” Dr. Sherman says. 

Zoe leans back into the sofa. “Weird,” she says. “Preoccupied. And kind of… lonely.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “Lonely how?”

Zoe frowns. “Like I’ve got this insane secret and I can’t tell anyone. Like if someone asked me why I was in such a weird mood all week, it’s not like I could explain that I was, y’know, time traveling and saw my dead brother for the first time in years. Like. It sounds nuts. I kind of feel nuts, truthfully.”

Dr. Sherman gives her a sympathetic smile. “It can be a lot, managing these things. You’ve got two histories in your memory now. The one that was and the one that is now. It can be extremely challenging.”

“Have you ever done this?” Zoe asks her, suddenly, desperate to know. “Time traveled through your own life?”

Dr. Sherman smiles kindly. “I’m not sure that’s relevant at this time.”

Zoe crosses her arms and mutters about how ethical countertransference feels like bullshit. 

Dr. Sherman laughs. “I know. It can. I agree.” She leans forward in her seat. “You said you’re feeling alone. Lonely. Tell me about a time when you didn’t feel this way. When you felt as if you were seen and heard.”

Zoe feels a blush creep up onto her cheeks. “I don’t…”

“You do,” Dr. Sherman says immediately, pouncing. “I can tell you’re thinking of something.”

Zoe gives a shrug. “Um. It’s embarrassing. Especially in hindsight.”

“Embarrassment is a good place to start,” Dr. Sherman says. 

Zoe stares down at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow her whole. 

No luck. 

What fucking use is this magical time traveling office or whatever if she can’t escape uncomfortable questions? 

“On your list of regrets,” Dr. Sherman says carefully. “You listed the night you first had sex.”

Zoe feels really embarrassed now. “I… I mean. Yeah. I slept with Evan.

“And you regret it. Why?”

“Because it’s Evan?” Zoe says immediately. “I slept with the guy who lied about knowing my brother.”

“But that’s not why you slept with him,” Dr. Sherman says. 

“Well. Uh. No.” Zoe clenches her hands into fists. “We had this. Big talk? Me and him.”

Dr. Sherman nods for her to go on. 

“About how… I didn’t want our. Relationship to just be about Connor,” Zoe finishes lamely. 

Dr. Sherman smiles. “Oh?”

“I mean.  I felt. I felt like… like he and I… we got each other. Understood each other. And. I liked him. Liked that, under all the Connor stuff he was… good. Kind. Funny. And I told him… that I wanted to. Let go of the Connor stuff. And just be us.”

Dr. Sherman nods for her to go on. 

“So much of my life… so much of it had been about my brother,” Zoe says. “And I had found this guy, who was sweet and… and cared about me. But it was, like. Even Evan… it was about Connor.” She pushes a hand through her hair. Sighs. “So I told him I didn’t want to talk about Connor anymore.”

“And what happened then?”

Zoe feels her face heat up a little more. “He said. That… that he. Wanted that too.”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“So. Like. So we had sex,” Zoe says in a rush. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It was your first time,” Dr. Sherman points out. “That can be impactful. Can leave a mark.”

“People have weird first times,” Zoe says with a shrug. “It’s not… I mean. It’s.”

“It’s on the list,” Dr. Sherman points out. 

Zoe frowns. “Just. Ever since then. Ever since it’s been hard, like. To know or trust that someone interested in me… is interest in me. Not like. The story.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “What would you do differently?”

“Well I wouldn’t fucking sleep with him for starters,” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman raises her eyebrows. “If that’s what you want.”

Zoe nods. “Yeah. I want to… erase the whole thing,” she says. 

“Now. You have to remember that you can only change your own decisions. And you shouldn’t use your knowledge of the future to influence-”

“Anybody else, I got it,” Zoe says. “I know the rules. I’m not going to, like, rearrange the cosmos. I just want to avoid the painfully awkward first time with the guy who lied to me.”

Dr. Sherman gives her a nod. “Well then. You can step through the door when you’re ready.”

Zoe strides through confidently. And steps through to Evan’s bedroom. 

He’s watching her very very carefully. Guarded. Maybe embarrassed as she looks around. Takes in the sparsely decorated space. 

“So when does your mom get off work?” Zoe asks. 

Evan gives her a twitchy smile. “She has a class Sunday nights, so she won’t be home for another few hours.”

Zoe blinks, recalling her surprise. “We have the whole house to ourselves?” The house to themselves. That was a prospect totally unheard of in her life. Her mom was always around. Cat’s mom too. She couldn’t imagine the luxury of having the house to yourself. 

“You know it,” Evan says with a slight smile. 

Zoe looks at him, then deadpans, “We should throw a kegger.”

Evan nods, playing along, “We should definitely throw a kegger. For sure.”

Zoe, swept up in the ease of this, replies in her best frat boy voice, “Until your mom comes home.”

“In three hours,” Evan says, mimicking her tone. 

They smile at each other, a little awkward. 

“Thank you for, um, for coming?” Evan says, his voice tentative. 

Zoe rolls her eyes. “You realize, I’ve been asking to come to your house, for, like, weeks, and every time you’ve immediately said no.” 

Evan’s cheeks go a bit pink. “I know. Which is why I appreciate that you’re here now.”

Zoe smiles at him fondly. 

God, no wonder she slept with him. It was just… so easy. Before the truth came out it was so easy to just. Exist. Breathe around him. 

Zoe forgets what’s supposed to come next. What she’s meant to say. Her lines, her internal script, they fail her. Her gaze falls onto a stack of papers on Evan’s bedside table. 

He immediately hurries to more neatly stack the pile and shove them into a drawer. 

“What are-?”

“Oh, those are just. My mom is, like, obsessed with these college scholarship essay contests she found online? She keeps printing more of them,” Evan explains in a rush. Trying to push past it. Trying to change the subject. 

Zoe doesn’t say anything. 

“It’s just, college is expensive?” Evan goes on, still talking. As if he’s unable to stop himself from justifying this. “When you add it all up, tuition, housing books… I’d probably have to win a hundred of them to actually pay for college.”

Zoe gives him a sympathetic smile. “Your parents can’t…?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

Zoe opens her mouth to say she’s sorry. She’s sorry he’s dealing with something she’s never had to manage. That she’s sorry she doesn’t understand. 

But before she can say a word, he’s talking some more. Changing the subject. Talking like if he stops, she’ll hate him. 

God, no wonder he kept lying. It’s like he’s incapable of silence. 

That must be painful. 

“So, hey, I meant to tell you before, we had a meeting of The Connor Project a few days ago and I think we have a really great strategy for raising more money for the orchard-”

“Um,” Zoe interrupts. “Can we talk?”

Evan’s face falls. “Oh. Shit.”

Zoe tries to explain, but Evan keeps talking. “No. Just. That’s why you came over, right? You’re breaking up with me?”

Zoe thinks that maybe she should. Maybe she ought to. But that’s not why she’s here. She’s just changing the outcome of tonight. She’s just avoiding a mistake. “Breaking up with you?”

Evan flinches, his hands convulsing into tight fists for a moment. “God, like. How presumptuous can I get? I don’t even know if we’re like-” he gestures, creating quotation marks in the air “-‘dating officially’ or whatever, which isn’t even…” He glances at her for the briefest of seconds. “Never mind. Why am I even talking right now? It’s fine. Don’t worry, you can tell me, I’m - I’m not going to cry or start breaking things-

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Zoe says gently. 

The bubbling up of anxiety seems to immediately quell, like the temperature turned off on a pot of water about to boil over. 

“Oh,” Evan says, breathless. “Well. Um. Thank you?”

Zoe can’t help but grin. “Don’t mention it.”

Evan takes a relieved breath. 

Zoe moves to go and sit on his bed. She sighs. “It’s just… all this. Connor Project stuff.”

Evan watches her, his brow creasing. 

“It’s just…” 

Zoe knows she needs to tread lightly here. She knows. She can’t make radical changes. She can’t play god. She can’t change things that weren’t her decision. 

She knows she told Evan in the past that she didn’t want to talk about Connor all the time. And she knows that he was… relieved that she wasn’t only interested in him because of her brother. 

And she knows that in their excitement over the solidifying of their relationship as being about them, about only them and not her dead brother, they slept together. 

So she needs to stop that from happening. 

Without changing too much. 

“It’s just. We talk about my brother a lot,” Zoe says carefully. 

Evan’s face falls. “I just. I thought…”

“You get that’s not why I like you, right?” Zoe says then. “I don’t like you just because you were friends with him.”

Evan’s cheeks go kind of pink. “You… that’s not?”

Zoe shakes her head. “I like you because you’re… you. You’re kind and thoughtful. Funny. And because you’re, like, the only person who doesn’t treat me like I’m about to completely fall apart.”

“Oh,” Evan says softly. 

“So I…I don’t need you to keep trying to prove to me that I should like you. I already like you, so. You don’t have to keep… trying so hard, you know? I don’t expect you to fix the shitty stuff.” 

Evan swallows noisily. 

“I just. Maybe we can just talk?” Zoe says softly. “About. Both of us. How we feel, you know? Because we talk about my brother… but we don’t. Not really. We don’t talk about… what happened. We don’t talk about how we feel about it.” 

Evan’s eyes look glassy. “I just… I didn’t want to make things worse?” 

“I know,” Zoe says. “But honestly, like. You know my parents, like. I can’t really talk to them. Like. My dad’s in total denial? Like, all the time. The other morning, I swear to god Evan, he went into Connor’s room to yell at him for oversleeping and it took like a full minute for it to register that there’s nobody for him to wake up anymore.” 

Evan swallows audibly. “Fuck. That’s… god, I’m so… I’m sorry.” 

Zoe goes on. “My mom’s a wreck. Like, she does her best to put on her happy face for you but… She’s up all night, reading and rereading those emails you showed her. It’s like she’s trapped.” 

Zoe takes Evan’s hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want to be like them. I want this… I want us to mean something.” 

“I don’t know… I don’t know if I know how,” Evan says softly. 

Zoe lets out a nervous laugh. “Fuck, me either.” 

Evan grins a bit. 

“I guess. Just. How are you feeling? Like. Today?” 

Evan fidgets with the hem of his shirt, tugging it. He looks up at Zoe and immediately drops his gaze again, eyes fixating again on his fingers twisting in the fabric. 

Zoe breathes in. “I could go first?” She says tentatively. 

Evan breaks out in a relieved smile. “Yeah.” He perches awkwardly at the edge of his mattress. 

“Right now,” Zoe says. “I’m like. Really mad.” 

“Oh,” Evan says. 

“Not at you!” Zoe stares down at the bedspread. “I’m mad, because, like. We… we never got the chance to, like, not hate each other.” She chews on her lip. “So, like. My mom grew up with a sister, Caroline? They’re really close in age too. And growing up… they hated each other? Like, stealing each other’s stuff, getting into fights and pulling out each other’s hair, hated each other.” 

Evan nods. 

“But then, like. They grew up and moved out and… My aunt Caroline and my mom were pregnant at the same time?” Zoe says. “And, like. My mom had to have an emergency C-section. With my brother. My dad wasn’t even with her; she thought she’d have a couple more weeks before the baby came, I guess, and he was on his way back from Denver. My mom was all by herself, and then. My mom called my aunt and she showed up, went into the operating room with my mom. Cut the cord and whatever.” Zoe pushes her hand through her hair. “I thought, you know. Me and Connor would be like that.” 

Evan looks so heartbroken at her saying that. 

“And now we’re never going to get to,” Zoe says, disgusted. “And instead I’m just mad at him.” She looks at Evan carefully. “I’m scared I’m going to be mad at him forever.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Evan says. “I’m really sorry.” 

“Now you go,” Zoe says. 

Evan looks up from their clasped hands. Looks at her face. And then immediately looks away. “I’m okay. I mean. Fine.” 

“You’re fine?” Zoe echoes. “Your best friend killed himself and you’re fine ?”

Evan’s face crumples. “No, I mean. Obviously I’m not fine, but… it’s like. R-recently I’ve been… less anxious? Less… lonely?” He looks over at Zoe. “I mean. I… Even being friends with… I was alone. A lot. A lot of the time.” 

Zoe nods. “I get that,” She says. “I know I kind of… act like I’ve got my shit together and whatever?” She says. “But I. Really my only friend is Cat. And we can bitch about stuff, sure, but real stuff?” 

Evan’s eyebrows knit together briefly. “Real stuff can be… it can be really hard.” 

Zoe nods. Swallows hard. “And you just. You try to explain, but the words won’t come out right or… people think you’re being weird. And like. It’s really hard. To never be able to be honest with anyone.” 

Evan’s fingers skate gently up Zoe’s arm. “You can be honest with me. I can… I can listen.” 

“I can listen too,” Zoe says. “For you. If you need it. I won’t go blabbing any of your secrets.” 

Evan nods. “Thank you.” 

And the next words slip out. “Can I… I have a question actually. Because I’m. Kind of confused about something.”

Evan blinks a few times. “Oh?”

“Just. Well.” Zoe watches his face carefully. She can see the panic behind his eyes, she can see the way he’a loaded like a wind up toy ready to take off. “I broke my arm. When I was eleven? I was on my friend Cat’s trampoline and tried to do a flip. I fell off it.”

Evan’s eyebrows crease in confusion. 

“I was in a cast for six weeks,” Zoe goes on to explain. “Which I remember because I was eleven and missed playing the guitar so I made a whole countdown chart until I could play again. And I missed most of the gymnastics unit in gym class.” 

Evan nods. 

Zoe looks at him, just looks. Wondering what he might say. How he might try to explain. “Just. If you broke your arm at the end of May or the start of June… how come you kept the cast on until October?” Zoe asks carefully. “That’s like… four months.”

Evan has gone so pale he looks sick. Like he might genuinely be sick. 

“Was it like… did it not heal right?” Zoe asks. Truthfully, Zoe suspects the real answer is that… Evan just didn’t lie very well. When he arbitrarily picked June as the time when he broke his arm. 

“I. Um. I,” Evan says, his eyes huge. “It was… I mean. Yeah it -”

“And well,” Zoe says, frowning a little more. “Just. I just… Connor was in summer school, last summer? He flunked, like, a few classes. My parents got pissed about it and took his car away.” She blinks at Evan, trying to appear earnest. “So how did you get to the orchard?”

“How’d we… get there?” Evan repeats. He seems totally overwhelmed. Totally lost. 

“Since you don’t have a car,” Zoe says. “Did he cut summer school? Take the car?”

Evan opens and closes his mouth a few times, soundlessly. He looks ill. Zoe can see his hands are shaking. 

“I didn’t - I didn’t want to,” he says helplessly. 

Zoe waits. 

Is he going to admit it? Is he actually going to admit to the lies? 

“Your parents, they. They were so upset and I. I didn’t…” Evan clears his throat. “They just. They kept asking but I couldn’t tell them the…”

Zoe looks at Evan, her mouth set in a thin line. “The truth?”

“They… w-w-wanted to hear stories about him,” Evan says, his voice quiet and full of ice. Like his teeth around about to start chattering with the effort to keep himself down. “And… I didn’t…”

Zoe doesn’t know why, but she jumps in to help him. “You didn’t have any… that would have been okay to tell them.” She shakes her head. “I get it. I drew a blank for a eulogy which is why I didn’t speak. All I could think about was the time he taught me how to roll a joint?”

Evan laughs a little weakly. Smiles at her. 

And then his face goes serious. “C-Connor wasn’t with me. When I broke my arm.” 

Zoe feels herself hold very still. “He wasn’t?” 

Evan shakes his head. His eyes are glassy and a little lifeless. “I was by myself.” 

Zoe looks at him. Holding her breath. Waiting. “You were by yourself?”

Evan’s nose is going red. His eyes too. He blinks a few times rapidly. “Yeah, I…” Evan clears his throat. “I was by-by myself. Just.”

Zoe grasps his hand. “I didn’t. Why did you tell us…?”

Evan shrugs. “I just… I wanted to. Give your family something. Give myself…”

“A better story,” Zoe finishes for him. 

Evan keeps blinking quickly. Not looking at her. 

“Evan…” she says softly. 

“I didn’t want to lie,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to…”

Zoe rests a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I get it. I get it.”

Evan shakes his head, a little frantic. “No it’s. It’s not, it’s not okay, it’s not because… because I...”

Zoe’s heart thuds painfully against her ribs. Because at thirty years old, she knows Evan was the one to write that letter that they found on her brother. She knows he wrote it. Knows he has problems with anxiety. 

It clicks violently into place. 

What he’s not saying. 

And Zoe pulls him into a tight, tight hug. And it feels like a dam breaks in him. He lets out a strangled noise and buries his face in her hair and whispers that he doesn’t want her to hate him. 

“I don’t,” Zoe says softly. “I won’t . I… couldn’t even if I really tried.”

“Fuck,” Evan says, wrenching himself away. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t.

Zoe can’t help the next words that come out of her mouth. Because even though she knows they’ll be lies, they’ll be a not so carefully crafted fiction… 

“Did he… did Connor know?”

Evan looks terribly ashamed. “I… I never told him,” he says. He seems to be choosing his words very carefully. 

“It must have been so hard. Not being able to tell your best friend you were hurting so much,” Zoe says softly. 

Evan shakes his head, like he’s trying to put distance between the conversation and himself. “I can’t… Zoe I can’t.

So Zoe chooses her own next words carefully. “I… I mean. You know I’m kind of in love with you, right? And that stuff… it doesn’t change how I feel.”

“Oh.”

A moment. 

“I’m kind of… I mean. Me too?” Evan says softly. 

“You’re not, like. Judging me? For being so… pissed off and angry?” Zoe says. “For not even being able to get to be sad?”

“Never,” Evan says immediately. 

And. 

Well. 

Zoe came back here to stop herself from letting things go as far as they did. 

But really, thinking back. 

As far as first times go, that moment… it was actually pretty nice. To be young. And in love. To feel, even if just for a little while, that they were enough for each other. 

So Zoe leans in. And she kisses Evan. And he kisses her back. With fervor. Like it means something. 

She hopes it does. 

Of course there are parts that are a little bit humiliating. Of course there are. That’s kind of part of the deal. Being vulnerable with another person means letting them see things you wouldn’t show normally. 

So she takes it all in. The awkward giggles when Evan’s foot gets trapped in his pant leg. The fumbling fingers. The elbow to the side Zoe gets when he leans over to his bedside table. 

“Fuck I’m so sorry.”

Zoe is winded but smiling. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” she jokes. The restless way she breathes when he presses a kiss to the spot where his elbow got her. 

“Have you done this before?” Zoe asks. 

And Evan shakes his head. “No. Have you…?”

She shakes her head. “I got to second base at the jazz band retreat with Lucas Zimmerman,” she says thoughtfully. “Over the summer.” She wrinkles her nose. “He was kind of grabby.” A laugh. “You’re much better at this.”

Evan seems to blush everywhere then. 

And like. There aren’t really fireworks. There’s no swell of romantic music. It’s a little too quiet, and they’re a little too nervous. 

But then they lie there in Evan’s twin bed after and… 

Zoe realizes she never really regretted this. Not truly. Because it was okay. It didn’t fuck her up totally. It was just… an easy thing to blame. 

“Are you… you’re okay?” Evan asks her, his eyes big. Worried. 

“I’m okay,” she says. 

“It didn’t… you’re not. Hurt?”

Zoe shakes her head. “No. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says. His face relaxes a bit. 

Zoe looks at his face for a moment. “Do you... what do you think happens?” She asks. “When you die?”

Evan’s face falls. 

“Like do you think that there’s like… heaven and all that?”

Evan looks unsure. “I mean. I don’t know. I… like I’m Jewish? But more like. Mostly I’m pretty agnostic, I guess? But like. Raised Jewish and. Like I had a bar mitzvah and stuff. But I don’t… I have no idea.” 

Zoe nods. 

“Why?”

She laughs a little breathlessly. “Just. It’s dumb. But if there is, ” she says. “I really fucking hope my brother didn’t see that.”

Evan looks shocked for a moment. Then he starts to laugh. “Oh my god,” he says, burying his face in a pillow. “No. God. Why would you say that? Now I’m gonna - now I’m definitely going to be haunted.”

Zoe laughs along with him. “What? Dead brother is bringing down the mood?”

“Zoe, oh my god.

Zoe kisses him. Kisses his cheeks and his forehead and then his mouth. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she says. “And your mom’s going to be home soon.”

“Shit,” Evan says, his eyes flying to the clock on his bedside table. 

“Now that would be a fun way to meet her,” Zoe jokes. “‘Hey Mrs. Hansen. Nice to meet you, I just deflowered your son.’”

Evan keeps blushing and buries his face back in the pillow. “Oh my god .”

Zoe pulls her dress back on. “I’ll be back in a minute? Okay?”

Evan nods. He sits up and starts pulling his own clothes back on. 

“Hey Zoe?” He says just as she reaches the door. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” He says.

“It was my idea,” she says, confused. 

“No I mean. For. Everything. All of it.” Evan ducks his head. “Just. You’re. Everything.”

Zoe smiles. 

And steps through his bedroom door. 

She’s back in Dr. Sherman’s office. 

“Please tell me you didn’t watch that,” Zoe says immediately. 

Dr. Sherman shakes her head. “I don’t watch. That would be inappropriate.”

“Good,” Zoe says. 

“So,” Dr. Sherman says. “You decided not to change it.”

“I changed some things,” Zoe says. “But. Yeah. I guess… I didn’t want to. Because even though everything else was pretty fucked up, I… I don’t really regret it.”

Dr. Sherman nods. “And why do you think that is?”

Zoe shrugs. “Because it was nice. Not to feel so alone. I didn’t want to… take that away.”

“Good,” Dr. Sherman says.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Summary:

Zoe returns to high school so she can stop keeping a secret.

Notes:

Please note that this chapter contains content about accidental pregnancy and abortion.

Chapter Text

The next week is a little less… intense. 

Zoe finally feels as if she’s starting to get a hang of her job, a little. 

She has her first client who is newly diagnosed. He’s so young it’s heartbreaking. Only twenty two. Malik has a young, thin face. He wears his hair in locs pulled back into a low ponytail. 

He looks at her with his intense fire in his eyes. “I’m not gonna die,” he tells her. 

“No,” Zoe agrees. “You’re not. We’re not going to let that happen.”

She accompanies him to his first appointment with Alana. Alana is efficient and kind. Asks about his life. 

“I’m in college,” he explains. “Engineering.”

Alana gives him a smile. “Really? That’s amazing.”

Malik shrugs. “I mean. I don’t know if I’ll finish,” he says softly. “If I’m sick… I dunno how I’ll keep paying for school.”

Zoe and Alana trade looks. 

“We can help with that,” Zoe tells him. 

After his appointment with Alana, she takes him into her office and helps him to fill out paperwork for financial assistance. He qualifies for a rebate on his meds. For housing and food assistance. 

“If we stick to this plan,” Zoe tells him. “You’ll be undetectable in no time. And if you need help, we’ve got your back. Okay?”

On his way out, Zoe gets him set up for an appointment with one of the counselors on staff. Malik seems relieved as she escorts him out through the front door. 

And she feels. 

Okay. 

But there’s still this gnawing, annoying feeling in her guts. 

That she’s alone. 

Because she is. 

She likes her coworkers. She likes her clients. 

But they’re not friends. Not people she can confide in. 

Zoe had a marathon phone call with Drew later that week. And it helps to lessen that lonely feeling building inside of her. 

But it doesn’t erase it. Because she can’t tell him. She can’t tell anybody the truth. 

“How have you been feeling since last session?” Dr. Sherman asks Zoe when she arrives on Monday. 

She shrugs. “Okay I guess? Still… a little bit weird.” 

“You mentioned last time that you felt lonely. That you were struggling with keeping the work we are doing under wraps.”

Zoe nods. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s just hard. Knowing that if I said anything, people would think I was crazy.” She rubs her face wearily. “And then like. Who would I even tell? Even if someone would believe me… I don’t really have anybody who I can tell about big stuff. Like. Everyone feels… pretty far away.”

“Why do you think that is?” 

“Because I keep them at an arm’s length,” Zoe says immediately. “Because it’s. Easier. Safer. Not to let people in. Let them get too close.”

 “Was there another time in your life where you felt alone like this?” Dr. Sherman asks. “Another time you kept something close because you were afraid of what people would say or do?”

“I mean,” Zoe says. “All of it?” The joke falls flat. 

Dr. Sherman doesn’t smile. 

Zoe thinks about it. About the aching loneliness in her gut. The guilt twisting through her about the secret she’s holding close, too afraid of what could happen to ever tell. “Okay. I mean I guess… around Christmas my junior year?” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman nods. “Yes. I remember that one. You chose to terminate a pregnancy.”

Zoe nods. “I don’t regret that,” she hurries to say. 

“No,” Dr. Sherman says. “You don’t.”

“But I’ve… nobody knows,” Zoe explains. “I never told anyone. Not Nick or my parents. I went alone. And I’ve never told anybody.”

“Why not?”

Zoe shrugs. “I didn’t want… I didn’t want them to think less of me.” She sighs. “Not because I’m ashamed of what I did. I had just turned seventeen and I didn’t want a baby. But… people can be judgemental. And. I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d…”

Dr. Sherman waits. 

“I didn’t know… I still don’t know, like, whose it was? The… zygote or whatever. I’d been sleeping with Evan and then when I found out about the lies… I went to some frat party with my friend Cat. Got super drunk and slept with some guy whose name I don’t even remember. And I… god I didn’t want anyone to know that I. That I was such a damn cliche. That I was that girl.

“Have you considered telling anyone now? That you’re an adult?” Dr. Sherman sounds really genuine. 

Zoe exhales slowly. “Not really. Every once in a while my dad will crack a joke about, like, grandkids and I’ll think about just blurting it out. But. I’m scared of what he’d say.”

“And your mom?”

Zoe wrinkles her nose. “I mean, part of me worries she’s kind of… old fashioned about that stuff.” She shrugs. “And part of me worries she’d just. Make it about my brother somehow. Or about how she was a bad mom.”

“That sounds really painful,” Dr. Sherman says. “That’s a lot to have to hold. Especially when you were only sixteen.”

Zoe shrugs. “I guess.” She sighs. “That’s where I’m going, right?”

“If you’re open to it.”

Zoe shrugs. It’s not what she really wants. 

But. 

Dr. Sherman is right. She’s definitely right. If Zoe goes back to when Connor was still alive right now, she’s not sure she could stop herself from fucking up the whole timeline. 

“You’re the boss,” Zoe says finally. “Let’s do it.”

She gets up and walks to the door. Dr. Sherman nods. 

And Zoe steps through. 

She steps out into the hallway of her high school again. It’s quiet this time. Zoe is clutching a large, ridiculously decorated clipboard that reads “HALL PASS MR. SHAKESPEARE” hung around her neck. 

She almost laughs. She forgot that her fucking Spanish teacher was called Mr. Shakespeare. The irony used to make her giggle. 

Zoe continues her walk down the hall to the bathroom. Inside her pocket, her phone is vibrating with a reminder. It just says “call clinic.”

Zoe steps into the bathroom. She carefully checks the bottoms of the stalls for feet, and once she’s sure she’s alone, Zoe locks the main door to the bathroom. 

And pulls out her phone. Dials the number she’s saved in her phone as “Polly.”

It’s the number for Planned Parenthood. 

Someone answers pretty quickly. “How can I help you?”

“Um. Hi,” Zoe says feeling a little winded. “I was wondering… if you can help me. To schedule an appointment. For um. For an abortion.”

Zoe hears some clicks and typing on the other side of the line. “Yes, I can help you.” 

It’s a pretty short and sweet conversation. Zoe remembers liking that, the efficiency of it all. The person she speaks to asks if she remembers the date of her last period. 

She doesn’t. 

Because it was over a decade ago. Because even at the time, she wasn’t great at keeping track. She was dumb and she had just turned seventeen. “I’m not totally sure, it’s not always, like, on time?” She says. “I think… I think it was September? I think like. The end of September.”

The receptionist asks her a few questions. Tells her she might be eligible for a medical procedure, where can just take a few pills. Zoe remembers that. Swallowing the first dose there in the office. 

“Okay.”

“Let’s get you scheduled… do you think you can do tomorrow? At noon?”

“I… yeah. That works.” She cut school. It wasn’t a big deal. 

“You’ll want to have someone come with you,” The person tells her. “Sometimes, even if you’re 100% certain in your decision, it can be a bit… challenging. We recommend you bring a friend, a partner, or a parent.”

Zoe knows how this went last time. 

She lied to Cat. Told her she had a UTI and that she was going to get tested after that stupid party. Asked Cat to wait in the waiting room and never told her what she actually went in for. The whole time, Cat kept asking her who she slept with anyway. 

And Zoe never told her. 

Zoe tells the woman on the phone that she’ll bring someone. They hang up and a moment later Zoe gets an email confirming an appointment at four o’clock tomorrow. 

She sighs. 

Unlocks the bathroom and steps back into the hallway. As she’s walking back to class, Zoe spies Jared Kleinman being escorted to ISS. Something about being disruptive. 

They lock eyes for a moment. 

Say nothing to each other. 

Zoe slips back into Spanish and hangs the clipboard on the door. Cat shoots her a look, eyebrows up. Zoe just mumbles “tell you later.” 

They spill out into the hall together as the bell rings. “You good?” Cat asks her. “You look kind of wigged out.”

Zoe thinks quickly. About how hard it was to do this without help. She makes a quick decision. She grabs Cat’s arm and drags her up to this abandoned hallway off the catwalk in the auditorium. Nobody ever goes there. 

“Dude, Zoe, what’s going on?”

“Um. So the thing is. I. Uh.”

“Oh god, please tell me you’re not pregnant or whatever,” Cat says. “That would be super unfair after the year you’ve had.”

Zoe feels her face burn. 

“Shit, Zoe. You’re not.

Zoe smiles a bit ruefully. “Uh. Yeah. I am.”

Cat’s eyes go huge. Her jaw drops open. Poor Cat had to keep her braces on until almost the end if senior year. Zoe can see the painful rubber bands strapped to her back teeth. “No way, ” she whispers. “Who’s the guy?”

Zoe leans back against the wall. Leans her head back. “Don’t judge me.”

“I would never.

Zoe blinks. “I don’t know, ” she confesses. “I… there were two guys, like, in the same week and… fuck you probably think I’m some huge skank.”

“No dude,” Cat says. Her eyes are still huge. “But. Who? I mean, you and Evan broke up? Were you guys, like, doing it?

Zoe breathes out her nose. “I mean, he’s one of them. And we were. At least we did a few times.” She shakes her head. “Remember when we met Mal convince us to go to that party?”

Cat nods. “I got really wasted.”

“Me too,” Zoe says. “And there was a guy… I don’t even remember his name.” Her face is on fire. “Anyways… I was calling Planned Parenthood. To like. Take care of it.”

Cat nods. 

“I’m an idiot,” Zoe adds. 

“No,” Cat says. “You know Missy Cartwright?”

Missy plays the piccolo in the marching band. Zoe knows her tangentially. She nods. 

“She had two. Last summer,” Cat says. 

Zoe blinks. “How do you know that?”

“I follow her finsta,” Cat says with a shrug. “We’re both in StuCo and she found me drunk after homecoming this year and we’re kinda friends. She talked about it on there.”

“Damn,” Zoe says. “Why doesn’t she just go on the pill or something?”

The moment she says it, she regrets it. She knocks her head back against the wall where she’s leaning. That’s exactly the sort of judgy crap she doesn’t want to hear, yet she’s the one saying it. 

“I… never mind, that was so bitchy,” Zoe says. “Like. I should have been on the pill. I’m being a dick.”

“Do you, like, need someone to go with you?” Cat asks. 

Zoe bites her lip. 

“I mean, obviously you’re not gonna tell your mom, right? Since she’s been such a mess,” Cat says. 

Zoe hesitates. “Maybe I will tell her.” 

Cat looks surprised. “Okay…? Like, are you sure? Because like. She was kind of a zombie the last time I came over…”

Zoe flinches. 

“No offense,” Cat adds. 

“No, you’re right,” Zoe says quietly. Her mom was a zombie. In the weeks after Evan came clean about his lies, her mom existed on a steady diet of Xanax and too much wine. 

She got it together by  Christmas though. 

“It’s tomorrow,” Zoe says. “At noon.”

“I’ll totally come with,” Cat says. “I don’t want to go to gym class anyway. You can even sleep over if you wanna. We’ll just tell my mom you’re having a bad period or whatever if she asks.”

“Can I let you know?” Zoe asks. 

“You’re really gonna tell your mom?” Cat sounds surprised. 

“I don’t know,” Zoe says. “Might be nice of her to pay attention to me for once.”

Once she says it, she regrets it a little. It’s more than she’d normally say. It’s more honest that she typically would be with Cat. With anybody. 

Cat looks at her for a long moment. “Are you gonna tell Evan?”

Zoe balks. “Uh. No.”

“But he’s… it’s probably his, right? Shouldn’t he at least help you pay?” Cat says it with venom in her voice. “I mean after he was such a creep.”

Zoe sighs. She forgot. The excuse she made to Cat about why she and Evan didn’t talk anymore. 

She told her that she thought Evan had only been friends with Connor for an excuse to talk to her. That Evan was as fucked up as Connor was in some ways.

It’s… it wasn’t kind of her to say. 

“I just. He’s a kind of messed up person,” Zoe says quietly. “And it might not even be his .”

“Still, he should pay-”

Zoe shakes her head. “He and his mom are kind of… they don’t have a lot of money. And she seems nice. It’s not like Evan has a job or whatever. If I asked for money, it would just mean making her pay. And it’s not like I can’t afford it, you know?”

Cat frowns a bit. “Still.”

Zoe shrugs. “Look, I’ll text you okay? Let you know if I tell my mom.”

Cat nods. 

She hesitates for a moment and then pulls Zoe into a tight hug. It’s unexpected. Zoe’s hardly a hugger. She thinks that the funeral is probably the only time she really remembers hugging Cat up to this point. She thinks they might have hugged at graduation. Maybe. 

The rest of the school day drags. 

Jazz band is an awkward affair. People are still staring at her. But she just focuses on playing and not looking at anybody but Mr. Rojas. 

It’s not so bad. 

Really. 

Zoe leaves band and goes to her locker. Unfortunately she can’t remember what homework she had for her classes, so she just kind of. Doesn’t bother grabbing any of her books. 

If she recalls, her grades are already pretty mediocre this semester anyway. One more day of being a slacker probably won’t make a difference. 

She starts off down the hall when she hears voices. Zoe immediately ducks into the doorway of a classroom to avoid being spotted. 

“What if they start telling people?” 

“They - I mean - they haven’t. They haven’t and it’s - it’s been over a month. I don’t think-”

“Oh, you don’t think. That’s pretty fucking clear Evan, or we wouldn’t be in this mess,” the reply follows, caustic and angry. 

“You’re the - you’re the one who told me to lie in the first place!”

“I told you to nod and confirm, not start making shit up!” 

It’s Jared Kleinman. 

That’s who’s yelling at Evan. 

“I…”

“She looked right at me. Right at me! Did you tell her? Was that your idea of fucking pillow talk? ‘ Oh yeah Jared wrote the emails with me-‘”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” Evan says, his voice desperate and a little wheezy. “I said - I said it was me, okay, she doesn’t know you were involved.”

Zoe feels like she could throw up. 

Jared Kleinman helped Evan to write the emails? She didn’t know that. She had no idea. 

And he told Evan to lie. 

He told Evan to lie to her family. To lie to her. 

“I w-wanted to be honest from the beginning,” Evan says. “An-and I know I lied, and I let it get totally out of hand but she’s-”

“Going to murder me in my sleep.”

“She’s not going to tell anybody because she doesn’t know, ” Evan insists. “Okay? She doesn’t know and she-she won’t know so please just st-stop freaking out because you’re freaking me out.”

Zoe doesn’t like this. Not at all. 

Not even a little bit. 

She steps out into the hall. Starts to walk toward them. 

Zoe watches both Jared and Evan’s faces go deathly pale. It’s a little hilarious, honestly. That she has that power. 

“Zoe,” Evan rasps, his eyes huge. 

“How much did you hear?” Jared demands immediately. 

“Enough,” Zoe replies coolly. She flicks her eyes over to Evan. “So. He was in on it?”

“Zoe, I can explain, I c-can-”

“No, dude, shut up, ” Jared says. “Don’t say another fucking word.”

Evan shuts his mouth. 

Zoe glares at Jared. “So. You’re scared we’re going to tell people?”

Jared has the sense to drop his eyes and say nothing. 

“You know what might help keep people from talking about it?” Zoe says. “Yelling about it at school.”

Jared’s face goes a little blotchy and pink. 

“Look, I don’t know what sinister plan you guys think my family is trying to cook up, but honestly we’re just trying to move on with our lives. So chill out. Honestly, it looks as bad for us as it does for you if people find out.”

Jared seems to be struck dumb by her words. 

“Zoe, you don’t have to...” Evan tries, but his voice seems to fail him. 

Zoe frowns. “Evaporate, Kleinman. I need to talk to Evan.”

Jared glances over at Evan. He hesitates for a second, but when Evan shakes his head, Jared adjusts his backpack and says, “Your funeral,” before stalking off. 

Zoe watches him until he disappears out the door leading outside. 

“You… what did you… you w-want to talk?” Evan tries. 

“Not really,” Zoe says. “I just wanted to get rid of him.”

Evan seems to deflate. “...He was my ride home.”

Well shit. 

Zoe sighs. “Okay. I’ll drop you off then.”

“You don’t have to,” Evan says immediately. 

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Sure. Okay. Walk five miles then.”

Evan’s mouth opens slightly. 

“Jesus, come on, ” Zoe says. “I’m not that much of an asshole. Let’s go.”

Evan nods. 

Follows Zoe down the hall and out to the junior parking lot. 

“So why is Jared all worried we’re going to talk?” Zoe asks conversationally. 

Evan pulls his shoulders in tight. Tugs at the hem of his hoodie under his unzipped jacket. 

“Oh. Um. He’s… he’s k-kinda convinced you’re gonna, like, go to the police?”  Evan says quietly. “Because. Identity theft, kind of. Falsifying records. And then there’s the… it doesn’t matter. He just thinks...”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “He’s an idiot. You guys didn’t steal anything.” She glances sideways at Evan. “Unless the orchard money....”

“N-no. No! It went to the c-company who owns the place,” Evan says. 

“Then he’s an idiot,” Zoe says. “I mean it’s probably not like… the most legal thing ever. But I don’t think anybody would want to take that case up. I mean. We probably could sue you for pain and suffering, but honestly there’s no point. No amount of money is going to…”

“Yeah,” Evan says quietly. 

They reach her car. Evan waits while she unlocks it. It feels familiar. Him climbing into her passenger seat. 

Zoe makes another decision as she climbs into the car. She takes a left instead of a right out of the school parking lot. She watches Evan’s eyes go wide. “Um. My house.”

“Yeah we’re not going there yet,” Zoe says. 

Evan flinches. 

“You got somewhere better to be?”

He says nothing. 

Zoe keeps driving. Gets onto the interstate for three exits. 

Evan says nothing. Just watches out the window. 

It takes a bit of navigating for Zoe to find her way. She hasn’t been here in forever. 

Evan is pale and silent beside her. She can practically hear his pulse racing as she takes the turn past the mausoleum.

“Zoe, I…” 

His breathing isn’t right. 

She keeps driving. Turns a few times, then pulls her car over on the side of the path. 

Turns it off. 

“We have to walk to get there.”

“I… I don’t.” 

“Get out of the car Evan,” Zoe says. 

“I c-can’t,” he rasps. His breathing is uneven and rapid. 

“I… look. You should come with me.”

She knows she’s not being kind. She knows, she knows. 

Evan gropes helplessly for the door. His breathing is more ragged and shallow. 

She could probably do anything she wanted to him right now. She could drag him out of the car and scream at him. Slap him. Beat him bloody with her fists. 

But she won’t. 

That’s not what she’s…

Evan manages to unlatch his seat belt and gets a wobbly leg on the ground. 

And immediately seems to collapse in on himself. It’s like watching a building being demolished. One second he’s standing tall, the next he’s rubble around the wheel well of her her car. 

Zoe gets out. Circles the car. 

“I’m s-s-s-”

“It’s okay,” she says softly. Puts her hand on his shoulder. He flinches violently, trying to jerk away. 

Zoe holds on. 

The air is freezing and Evan’s breath comes in rapid little puffs of steam. There are awful, anguished tears trickling over his cheeks. He looks destroyed. 

“Evan.” Zoe grips his shoulder tighter. The open door indicator keeps dinging from Zoe’s car, like a metronome, somewhat ominous. 

“I didn’t w-want to hurt anyone,” he whispers urgently. “I don’t - I wasn’t trying to - it just ha-happened.”

“I know,” Zoe says. 

They sit for a long while. Until Evan’s breath slowly comes back to him. Until the metronome dinging ceases. 

“Come on. I’ll take you home,” Zoe says. This was stupid. Mean. She shouldn’t have done this. 

“No,” Evan says. His voice is still rough with tears. “No. We should. We should.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “You just had a panic attack,” she says. 

“So?” Evan bites back. “I have them all the fucking time.”

Zoe blinks at him. 

He stands up shakily. Dusts off his pants. “Come on.”

Zoe gets up. Dusts herself off. 

She closes her car door and locks the car. Leads the way through the rows of graves until they arrive. 

Zoe was the one to pick out the stone. It’s a smooth, shiny black, made out of some kind of quartz she thinks. 

Her parents argued a lot about the damn headstone. Her dad wanted to put a cross on it, but Zoe didn’t let it fly. 

She may not have known her brother well, but she doubted he wanted to be remembered forever with a damn cross. 

There’s stuff scattered around the headstone. Flowers, wilting and dry. Candles that have melted into nothing but a blob of hardened wax. Stuffed animals. 

And letters. A lot of letters, their ink ruined by rain morning dampness. 

There’s a caretaker at the cemetery who clears all the stuff out every few weeks. 

Evan stares at the headstone, his face blank. 

Zoe stares too. 

She hasn’t been in a while, in her real life. 

The headstone still looks mostly the same. A little weathered, but not too bad. 

“You know at his funeral the priest gave this stupid speech about like. The dash they put between your dates?” Zoe says. 

Evan looks at her. 

“Like. If you think about it, it’s cliched as hell. They give that kind of speech all the time,” she says. “And like. He fucking killed himself. He was seventeen. That was… he didn’t have some long, adventurous… it was just like. A blip.”

Evan nods. “That… that really sucks.”

Zoe nods. “The first priest we asked wouldn’t do it,” she goes on. “Because it was a suicide.”

Evan looks horrified. 

“My parents are… or are like. Kind of. Catholic.”

Evan swallows hard. “Why’d you want to come here? With me?”

Zoe sighs. “To show you. Like. If you hadn’t… he probably wouldn’t have any flowers or. Any of this stuff.  You made people give a shit. It was a lie or whatever. But. It wasn’t all bad. He’s probably got more friends now than when he was alive.”

Evan blinks rapidly a few times. “I made… such a mess.”

“Yeah well. We all did, really.”

They get back into the car. Zoe drives them to Evan’s house. It’s quiet. No music. No distractions. 

Just quiet. 

She pulls into Evan’s driveway and looks at him. Her heart speeds up. 

“Hey uh. Listen.”

Evan looks at her. Wide, scared eyes. 

“Don’t freak out,” She says immediately. 

“I’ll - I mean - I’m trying not to.” 

Zoe nods. Swallows. 

“So. Look. Uh. You know how we… had sex?” It comes out clunky and weird. Evan’s cheeks go a bit flushed. 

“Uh. Yeah.”

“So. Like.” Fuck this is harder than she expects. “I’m okay and it’s not really a big deal.”

“But?” Evan says weakly. 

“Well tomorrow I have to um. Go take care of. The uh. Result?” Zoe says quietly. 

Evan has gone so pale he looks almost gray. He looks sick. “Wh-what?”

Zoe stares out the windshield. “Look. We were careful and we’re both. Kids. So. I’m just going to… We won’t need to worry about it. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Evan lets out a small noise. “Fuck,” he says quietly. “Fuck, y-you must hate. Fuck, god, you probably think I’m such a creep and-and an asshole-”

“Hey,” Zoe says, reaching out and taking Evan’s hand. He stills. Sort of reflexively laces his fingers through hers. “It was my idea.”

She looks up at Evan’s face. His cheeks have lit a soft pink. “But I…”

“We were careful,” Zoe says. “And shit… happens. This year. Has just been kind of… a goddamn shit show.”

Evan sniffles. “Can I… do anything?” He asks. 

Zoe shrugs. “No. I’ve got it covered. You don’t need to do anything.”

“Are you sure? I don’t..: I feel like you keep letting me off the hook for stuff,” he says softly. “For The-The Connor Project, now for this? It’s not. It’s not fair to you.”

“I didn’t tell you so you’d help me,” Zoe says. “I don’t need help. I have this handled.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Evan asks. 

“I…” Zoe feels her throat clench. “Because I’m. Because I’m fine. I’m always fine and I wanted you to know that I’m fine.”

Evan’s still holding her hand. “You don’t… you don’t have to be.”

Zoe hates that suddenly she’s choked up. “Fuck. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you before.”

“I don’t - um. What?” Evan says quietly. 

“Because even though you’re kind of an asshole, you’re also… really fucking nice,” Zoe says. 

Evan gives her a confused look. “Thank you?”

Zoe laughs humorlessly. 

“Look. Um. You can say no,” Evan says after a few seconds pass. “But. I could at least go with you? I mean. I know you like. Hate me and… I don’t want you to be alone.”

They’ve gone so far off script that Zoe feels almost dizzy. “You’d really…?”

“I mean. Yeah. I mean. If you’re okay with that?” Evan says. 

Zoe fixes him with a look. “Okay.”

Evan looks surprised. “Okay?”

“It’s tomorrow. At noon..”

“Alright.”

“So you can just. Meet me at lunch or whatever?” 

Evan nods a few times. “Should I uh. Bring anything?”

“Yeah bring fucking flowers, Evan,” Zoe says with a snort. 

He lets out a weak chuckle. “Okay. Um. See you tomorrow?”

Zoe nods. 

Evan gets out of her car. He still looks wigged out, but he’s a lot more solid than she expected. 

Zoe drives toward her parents house. Stops at Starbucks on her way because it was a bit of a tradition for her as a kid. Bad day? Drink coffee. 

When she arrives, Zoe is somehow not surprised to see that Dr. Sherman is the barista behind the counter. 

“Well. You’re certainly taking a different approach than I anticipated,” she says. 

Zoe shrugs. “It just felt. I dunno. It felt like the right thing to do.”

“Because you owe him? ” Dr. Sherman asks. 

“No,” Zoe says immediately. “Because it was awful. Being basically alone. Not having anybody know. I figured I could… try it another way.”

“Seek emotional support just this once,” Dr. Sherman says. “As a treat.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. 

Dr. Sherman hands over a Java chip Frappuccino. Zoe didn’t even order. 

“Uh.”

“Tate, that barista back there?” She says. “Saw you coming and said it was what you’d order.”

Zoe puts her straw into the drink. “Damn. Apparently I was a hot commodity as a teenager.”

She pays for the drink and then leaves. 

When she gets home, it’s not an unusual sight. Her mom wandering around, looking like a ghost. She’s wearing an old hoodie of Connor’s. 

Still weirds Zoe out. 

“Hey honey,” her mom greets her quietly. “Was school alright?”

Zoe shrugs. “It was fine, I guess.”

Her mom gives her an assessing look. 

And then, as Zoe has grown accustomed to, she dissolves into tears, pulling her into a tight hug and crying about Connor and how this Christmas is the first one without him and. 

Yeah. 

There’s no way she’s actually telling her mother today. She had been considering it, but there’s simply no way her mom can handle this right now. 

She’s a mess. 

Zoe heads upstairs once her mom has pulled herself together a bit. She texts Cat, says she won’t need a ride but she might need somewhere to hide out tomorrow night. 

My mom’s a mess about  Christmas so. 

Cat tells her it’s no problem. 

Zoe tools around online for a while. Thze internet is weird and clunky in this time she thinks. 

She can’t chance Facebook or Instagram, but she figures Buzzfeed is a safe bet. 

She thought wrong. 

As teen suicides continue to rise, some people point fingers at viral The Connor Project 

The story is. 

Brutal. 

A fifteen year old boy in Buffalo hung himself and was found with a “dear Evan Hansen” letter in his pocket. 

A nineteen year old girl barely survived an overdose attempt with a nearly identical note. 

An eighteen year old named Miles Kelly in Evanston, Illinois shot himself after posting a video online about The Connor Project’s “abrupt end.” 

There are kids with “dear Connor Murphy” notes and posts online. 

The viral project gained traction online after Evan Hansen, a seventeen year old high school senior, gave a speech at a memorial service for Connor  Murphy at his high school. Murphy died by suicide in September of this year just two weeks shy of his eighteenth birthday. 

“This is a serious issue,” says Mindy Klapper, a school psychologist in Portland. “I don’t think those kids running that project had any idea how dangerous it was to put a note like that online for people to see.”

The article concludes with, Representatives for The Connor Project have not responded to Buzzfeed News’s request for comment. 

Fuck. 

That was probably why Jared was freaking out today. Why he was yelling at Evan and worried about the police. He’s scared of this coming back on him. 

On them. 

God. 

Zoe had no idea it was that bad. 

She closes her laptop. Decides to call it a night. It’s too much to hold onto. People dying because her brother’s death inspired them. 

 

Zoe wakes up early. 

Her dad is the only one at the breakfast table. He immediately puts his phone down when he sees her. “Hey sweetheart.”

“What were you reading?” She asks, pouring herself coffee. 

“Just. An email.” 

“Bull.”

Her dad’s eyebrows go up. He looks like he’s going to reprimand her. 

But he doesn’t. 

He just frowns. “Some. Article.”

Zoe nods. “Yeah. I’ve seen some of those.”

Her dad frowns. “I don’t want you reading that shit,” he says, shocking her by cursing. “People. Blaming us, blaming Connor… it’s unfair.”

“Yeah,” Zoe says weakly. 

“About  Christmas,” he says after a moment. “Your mom… she’s not really up for it this year. So we’re going to the Harrises’ for dinner.”

“Fine,” Zoe says. 

“Be patient with her,” her dad says. “She’s trying.”

“Yeah,” Zoe says bluntly. “Gotta be hard losing your favorite child.”

Her dad’s jaw goes slack. 

“What?” Zoe says. “Come on, we both know it’s true. He was her favorite. And I’m yours.”

“Zoe, I…”

Zoe shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter anymore,” she says. “Since now I win by default.” She shoulders her bag. “I gotta go. Bye.”

He says nothing as she walks out. 

The first half of the school day flies by, thank god. Zoe wonders if it’s some kind of time travel autopilot or something. Like she’s just fast forwarding through the parts she’s not interested in seeing. 

And then it’s 11:00. Zoe escapes out the door with a gaggle of seniors heading off campus for lunch. 

She finds Evan waiting by her car. 

She cracks up laughing. 

He brought fucking flowers. Clearly some grocery store artificial daisies. 

“I was joking,” she says when she gets closer. 

“I know,” he says with a small smile. “But I thought. It might. Make you laugh?”

“Wel, achievement unlocked then,” she jokes. “Come on.”

They drive out of the parking lot and Zoe uses her phone to navigate their way. It’s pretty quiet. 

“I saw the article,” Zoe says suddenly. Beside her, Evan’s face goes white. “It’s bullshit.”

He says something under his breath she doesn’t quite catch. 

“Look. I know you didn’t put it online,” Zoe says bluntly. 

“But I- I’m the one who…” 

“Yeah but you didn’t share it everywhere,” Zoe says quickly. “Alana Beck did that.”

“How do you… did I tell you…?”

“I’m not exactly an honor roll student or whatever, but I can put two and two together,” Zoe says. “She was like. President of the Dead Connor Club.”

“Co-President,” Evan says softly. 

“Is that even a real thing?”

He shrugs. “The project was my idea. I’m the one who—”

“Evan. I know. And yeah, it was pretty fucked up, but you didn’t start a suicide cult, Jesus.”

He’s silent for a long time. Picking at his sleeves. “Thank you,” he says softly. 

Zoe gives him a one shoulder shrug. “Yeah. It’s whatever.”

They arrive at the clinic far quicker than she feels like it ought to take. Part of her thinks it is deeply unfair that she is doing this again. Once was plenty. 

Evan squeezes her hand as they sit in the waiting room. She fills there paperwork out. Bounces her knee as she sits back down. 

Evan’s bouncing his too. Their knees bump. 

Zoe looks at him and they smile at each other awkwardly. 

Zoe ducks her head. Embarrassed. 

“Hey so uh. You’re good with me uh. You’re good with this?”

Evan nods rapidly. “Oh yeah, I mean. Yeah. It’s what you want and I. Um. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to. Yeah.”

Zoe nods 

“Zoe Murphy?” The nurse says, stepping out from behind a door. 

She stands up. 

Evan stands too. 

The nurse gives Evan a kind smile. “I’m sorry. No partners beyond this point.”

“Oh-oh. I’m. I’m not—”

“He’s a friend,” Zoe says. “I’m good Evan. I’ll see you after.”

“Right this way.” 

Zoe steps through the door. 

And into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

“Put me back in,” Zoe says. “I wasn’t done — I wasn’t finished!”

“I know,” Dr. Sherman says gently. “And you’ll go back. But I thought once was probably enough.”

Zoe feels relieved. She smiles a bit awkwardly. 

“You can go back through now,” Dr. Sherman says. “You’ll come back in the recovery room.”

Zoe nods determinedly. “Thank you.”

She heads back through the door. 

And she’s in the recovery room. Led to a seat. Given some water and a snack. 

In the end,  they determined surgical was the option she had, since coming to a follow up appointment over  Christmas would be challenging. Zoe sits in recovery for a bit. When she’s cleared to leave, she changes back into her street clothes and finds Evan in the waiting room. 

“You okay?” He says, his face tight. Anxious. “You were in there for a while…”

Zoe shrugs. “I’m okay,” she says. 

“And you feel…? Like you’re not in pain or…?”

Zoe gives him a smile. “A little. Kind of like a bad period.”

Evan nods. 

“We can go,” Zoe says. 

As they get closer to her car, Evan quietly asks her for her keys. “You were sedated. I sh-should probably drive.”

Zoe hands the keys over. “I’ve never seen you drive before.”

“That’s because I’m… too nervous to drive in front of people normally.”

Zoe sits in the passenger seat. Holds the daisies Evan brought her. “Am I not people?”

Evan laughs weakly. “You’re better. Than most people.”

He starts her car. Zoe navigates them back to her neighborhood. Evan is clearly a nervous driver. He checks and rechecks his mirrors obsessively. Taps the breaks a lot. The twenty minute ride takes closer to thirty, but she doesn’t really mind. 

Evan parks in Zoe’s parents’ driveway. Zoe frowns. “How are you going to get home?”

Evan shrugs. “The bus. I’ll be okay.”

Zoe nods. 

Evan glances at the house. “Your parents home?”

“Mom probably is,” Zoe says. “I’d invite you in but…”

“No, no, that’s probably not…”

They get out of the car. Evan hands Zoe her keys back. She locks the car. 

“Thank you. For being cool today.”

Evan shrugs. Nods. “It was… the least I could... I mean.”

Zoe nods. “Okay. I’m going in.”

“Okay.”

She hesitates and then pulls him into a tentative hug. It takes him a moment to hug back. 

Evan makes a sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat. “I’m really… Zoe I’m so sorry. About everything.”

“I know,” She says. “It sucks. If this shit hadn’t happened, we probably could have been friends.”

Evan flinches. “Yeah. M-maybe.”

She turns to go up the walk. Puts her key in the door. 

Her mom loses it at her before she’s even got the door open. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Um.”

“The school called me. You just never went back after lunch! Was that Evan? Why do you have flowers? Zoe what on earth is going on?”

Zoe breathes through her nose. “I had an appointment.”

“An appointment?” Her mom repeats dubiously. 

“Yeah,” Zoe says, “for an abortion.”

Her mom’s face goes white. “What?”

Zoe awkwardly crosses her arms over her chest, still clutching the daisies by the stems. “Yeah well I wasn’t going to have a kid.

“Since when… who were you even…?” Her mom says faintly. “Evan?”

Zoe shrugs. “You’re the one who kept letting him stay over.”

Her mom shakes her head, backing away and pulling Connor’s hoodie tight over her chest. “I don’t believe this. Where did you even get the money…?”

“I have a bank account,” Zoe replies. 

“I…” her mom looks close to tears. She stalks into the living room. 

Zoe follows her. “No! No, you don’t just get to walk away and ignore this! I just told you I was pregnant and had an abortion! You can’t just check out!”

“Zoe, I can’t deal with-”

“I’m your kid too!” Zoe explodes. “I’m your kid too! I know you’re sad, you’re grieving and devastated, but I’m your kid too!”

Her mom looks at her, her eyes shining with tears. 

“You think I wanted to go to my liar ex boyfriend for help?” Zoe demands. “You think I wanted to be in this situation at all! If you gave a fuck about me, I could have asked to be put on the pill months ago and avoided all of this!”

“Zoe…”

“You’ve never worried about me the way you worried about Connor. You’ve never cared the way you did about him,” Zoe continues, her eyes stinging with tears. “Everything is always about him and he’s not even here! He didn’t want to be here and he left and you don’t even care that I’m still here.”

“That’s not true!” Her mom protests. “I love you! I love you both.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it!” Zoe snaps. 

Her mom keeps crying. Zoe starts for the stairs. 

“Wait. Sweetheart. Please.”

Zoe stops. 

“I love you,” she says. “And I’m. So. So sorry.”

Zoe is unmoved. 

“I didn’t know. I didn’t… you and Evan? You were… that serious?” Her mom asks. 

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Yeah.” She sighs. “And I feel pretty fucking stupid about it now.”

“Oh, baby, I didn’t know,” her mom says quietly. 

“No. You didn’t,” Zoe replies. “And you didn’t ask.”

Her mom sniffs. Wipes her face. Exhales heavily. “I messed up. I know I’ve been… messing up. It’s been so hard…”

“Yeah, well, it  hasn’t exactly been a picnic for me either,” Zoe says. 

She takes a tentative step toward the sofa. 

“I never know what to say to you,” Her mom says after a moment. “You’re always so… together. I feel like. You don’t need me.”

Zoe takes another step closer. “Yeah. Well. I don’t. I learned not to.” She pushes a hand through her hair. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you.”

Her mom wipes her face again. 

And Zoe sits. 

“The worst part is,” Zoe says. “I really loved him.”

“I know you did honey,” she says softly, taking Zoe’s hand. “Your brother-”

“I mean Evan, mom,” Zoe says bluntly, her eyes narrowing. “I mean Evan. I was in love with Evan, and he lied to me, he lied to all of us, and it hurts. And I can’t even talk about it. You don’t want to talk about anything that isn’t about Connor. You make everything about Connor. You don’t care that I’m hurting too.”

“That’s not true,” her mom says quietly. 

Zoe juts her chin out defiantly. “You keep saying that, but I don’t see it. I don’t feel it. I tiptoe around you because one wrong move and you’re crying about Connor again. And I’m still here. I didn’t leave. And you don’t see me.” 

Her mom mops her eyes with the sleeve of Connor’s hoodie. She takes a shuddering breath. Zoe just sits. She’s exhausted. Too tired to say more. Too shocked she said anything at all. 

“I’m so sorry you went through this alone,” her mom says after a long stretch of quiet. “I want you to be able to come to me. And I know, I know I haven’t made it easy.”

Zoe shrugs. 

“But I… I tiptoe around you too,” her mom says. “You… you don’t want to talk about your brother. You don’t say much about Evan or your friends. It’s hard to know where to start.”

Zoe feels her throat getting tighter again. Her eyes tearing. 

“And maybe it’s my fault that I’ve… let you. I’ve let you lock away how you feel instead of demanding to know or dragging it out of you,” her mom says. “I guess. Part of me thinks. I don’t have a right. Not anymore.” She shakes her head. “I always knew your brother was… troubled. Struggling. But I didn’t fight hard enough for him, to get him help. And Evan…?”

Zoe waits. 

“I’m the one who… I saw Connor’s name on his cast, and I…” She wipes her eyes. “I wanted to believe it so badly. He told us. He told us immediately that Connor didn’t write the note but… I saw his cast and. I assumed it was shock. I assumed he was upset because his friend was dead, not because…”

Zoe nods. 

“And I. God I hate myself for it, but I worry. He wrote the letter and… his mother’s never around. What if he’s not okay? What if he’s hurting the way Connor was…?”

Her mom straightens her shoulders out. “I’m the one who brought Evan into our lives. I’m the one who… if I hadn’t been so certain…

Zoe sniffs. “It’s not your fault he started lying.”

“I made him feel pressured, I… who wants to tell a grieving mother she’s imagining things?”

“Who wants to tell a grieving mother lies about her kid?” Zoe counters. “You can’t blame yourself for what Evan did.”

Her mom heaves a heavy sigh. Looks at Zoe for a long moment. “Are you alright? Honestly. You can tell me.”

Zoe shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “My head… it’s a mess.”

“And you and Evan… you were…?”

Zoe nods. “It’s. It just… I loved him and I was ready and.” She blinks a few times. “We were really careful. We were. But I guess. Not enough.”

“Things happen,” her mom says quietly. “I know… your father and I. We had an. Accident. When you and Connor were in middle school.”

Zoe blinks in surprise. By then she was sure her parents were already sliding toward divorce. “What?” 

“I knew we wouldn’t be able to… a newborn and two teenagers in the house?” Her mom says ruefully. Shakes her head. “So I took care of it.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?” Zoe asks. 

Her mom’s face goes pink. “Your father thought it wouldn’t be… setting a very good example.”

Zoe nods. 

Leans back, resting her head against the sofa cushions. “I don’t regret it,” she tells her mom. “And I don’t think I ever will.”

Her mom nods. 

“But it was scary. That’s why Evan was in my car. He… drove me home,” Zoe explains. “So I didn’t have to go alone.” She blinks a few times. “I wanted to ask you, but…”

“Zoe. Sweetheart. Listen to me,” her mom says, taking her hand and squeezing. “I know I don’t always get it right. But you never have to be afraid to tell me anything. Okay? I don’t care how embarrassing you think it might be, or how mad you’re scared I’ll get. I love you. I love you and you can always tell me.”

“It’s just… kind of hard. To trust that.”

“I know,” her mom says. “I know. I’ve messed up.” She tucks a bit of hair behind her ears. “But I. I’ll try to do better.”

Zoe sighs. “You ever think about. Like. Therapy or whatever?”

Her mom looks taken aback. 

“I mean. I know grieving is a weird process and it looks different for everyone,” Zoe says. “But it’s like. It’s like you can’t fight your way to the surface. Sometimes.”

Her mom nods. “You’re too smart for your age,” she says softly. 

“Tell me about it,” Zoe jokes. “I’m like. Basically thirty.”

Her mom lets out a wet laugh. 

“I’ll think about it,” Her mom says. “Okay? Maybe we all should… think about it.”

Zoe nods. 

“Look, I want to keep talking, but I also really want to put on my sweatpants,” she says. “I’m beat.”

“Of course baby,” her mom says. “You go upstairs and change. We can just… relax today. Take it easy. You’ve… you had a hard day and you deserve a break.”

“Okay.”

Zoe climbs the stairs. She’s drained. Exhausted. She doesn’t know if she’s ever felt quite this tired. 

She steps through the door of her bedroom and back into Dr. Sherman’s office.

“You told her,” Dr. Sherman says softly. 

Zoe nods. 

And sits down on the couch. 

And immediately bursts into tears. 

“I didn’t… I don’t… where do I put it all?” She gasps out. 

“Put what?”

“Everything,” Zoe sobs. “Everything that happened, everything I feel … I don’t know where to put it all.”

Dr. Sherman gives her a triumphant smile. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

Zoe doesn’t know what that could possibly mean. 

“You don’t need to figure out where to put it,” She tells Zoe softly. “You don’t. That’s our work, together. Figuring out where the pieces fit. And we will. But the important thing is, right now? You feel it. You just feel what you feel.”

“I feel like shit,” Zoe mumbles.

“Feeling like shit is a good start,” Dr. Sherman replies. “Sometimes in order to feel the good things? The joy and wonder and relief of being alive? Sometimes to access them, you have to feel like shit for a while.”

“Seems counterproductive,” Zoe comments. 

Dr. Sherman nods. “Truthfully? I think part of the problem you’ve been having for a long time is that you’ve… cut yourself off. From feeling much of anything. You… intellectualize and depersonalize your own feelings in order to cope. And that can work, shutting down the things that are painful and sad. But it cuts you off from feeling good too.” She leans forward. “You had to learn when you were so young to shut down your feelings just to get by that it probably just feels… natural to you now. But you deserve to feel, Zoe. You deserve to feel.”

Zoe nods. 

“Shall we pick things up next week?”

Zoe sucks in a deep breath. “Alright.”

Zoe makes her way from Dr. Sherman’s office to her car. 

At the last minute, Zoe decides she wants to walk past the bookstore. 

Not to bother Evan. Just to see if… if he’s okay. She’s standing outside for a moment, looking through the window and trying to see if she can see him inside. 

She can’t. 

She’s about to resign herself to heading inside and asking after him when someone bumps her shoulder from behind, sending Zoe sprawling to the ground. 

“Fuck! Oh, god, shit, are you alright? Fuck, texting and walking, I’m an idiot-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zoe says, gathering her things up from the sidewalk. The guy who bumped her starts helping, collecting her wallet and keys and handing them over. 

Zoe looks up to thank him and realizes who she’s looking at. 

“Evan?” She says, moderately alarmed. 

She just saw him a few weeks ago, but he looks… totally different. Not as thin in the face. Not as haggard and exhausted looking. 

“Zoe, oh my god, hi!” Evan says and for some fucking reason he actually looks happy to see her. “Oh my god, it’s been, what, ten years? At least, right?”

Zoe blinks. Several times. “We just. Had coffee.” She says it slowly. Carefully. 

Evan looks a bit dubious. “Did you hit your head? Shit I need to watch where I’m going.”

“I mean. When we saw each other last, didn’t we have coffee?” Zoe says, lost. 

Evan smiles. “Yeah, you’re totally right. We did.” 

“I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch,” Zoe says. 

Evan rolls his eyes at her. “You’re way too hard on yourself. I’m the one who sucks at keeping in touch? Remember how I missed when you got married? Sent a gift so late it turned into a divorce gift?”

Zoe forces herself to grin. “Yeah. Uh. Fair.”

“Hey, any chance you’re free now?” Evan asks, smiling a little sheepishly. “Just. You can obviously say no. But it would be really great to catch up. I could buy you a drink? Apologize for tackling you?”

Zoe finds herself grinning. “Um. Yeah! I would.. yeah!”

Evan smiles. “I just need to stop in the store really quick?” He says. “I need to pick up a book.”

Zoe shrugs. Follows Evan inside. 

He’s different. He’s so clearly different. Zoe doesn’t understand what happened. A few weeks ago he looked on the verge of a total collapse. Now he seems… fine? 

Evan finds the book he’s looking for immediately. Puts it on the counter and pays. Zoe raises an eyebrow. “ The Little Prince? ” She says. 

Evan gives her a sheepish grin. “I’m. Uh. So, two of my housemates in college? They got married last year and now they’re expecting a baby.”

Zoe smiles. 

“And they like. Asked me to the baby’s godfather even though I’m… y’know. Anyway, I remember reading this… because of the list,” Evan says. He sounds… excited. Proud. “And I thought. Their kid might appreciate it when they’re a little older.”

“That’s really great,” Zoe says. And she means it. 

They duck into a cozy bar around the corner. Evan insists on buying Zoe a drink since he knocked her over on the street. 

He comes back with a vodka soda for each of them and smiles at her tentatively. “So, how’ve you been? What are you up to these days?”

Zoe nods. “I’m. I’m okay?” She tries. “It’s been kind of a weird year. The company I’d been working for closed down, and then some guy hit my car… all on the same day.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Zoe shrugs. “Worked out though. I just got this new job? I’m a case manager for folks living with HIV? So I make sure that they, like, see their doctors regularly, have adequate housing, transportation, food, and mental health care. It’s only been a couple of weeks but I really like it.”

Evan is straight up beaming at her. “Zoe, that's awesome. That sounds like a really good fit.”

Zoe smiles. “Weirdly I work with Alana Beck? She’s a doctor at the clinic.”

Evan’s smile fades a little bit. “No kidding.” He toys with his glass for a moment. “And that’s… you’re okay? Working with her?”

Zoe nods. “Yeah. It’s been okay.”

“Good,” he says, nodding. “That’s really great.”

“What about you?” Zoe asks. “What are you up to now?”

Evan ducks his head, a little embarrassed. “Oh well. I’m teaching now?”

Zoe smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Four grade. Reading, social studies, and science. My classes are incubating baby chicks right now.”

“Shut up,” Zoe says with a smile. 

“Yeah I’ve got this agreement with this farm just outside of the city,” he says. “We hatch them and take care of them for a few weeks, and then they go off to live on the farm.”

Zoe grins. “I didn’t know you’d gone into teaching.”

Evan shrugs, maybe a little embarrassed. “Took a while? But yeah. I like it.”

“Nine and ten year olds are a good group,” Zoe says. 

“Yeah I hand them off to the fifth grade teachers just as they’re all hitting puberty,” Evan jokes. He tilts his head. “How long have you been back around here?” Evan asks. “I know you came here for grad school, but… I guess I didn’t realize you like. Lived here.”

Zoe nods. “Yeah I just. Grad school didn’t really work out so. I just sort of. Stuck around.” She takes a sip of her drink. “And you? Have you secretly been here the whole time?”

Evan shakes his head. “No, I just moved back… last summer?” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah I went to Denver for a while. My dad was pretty sick,” Evan says. 

“Oh. Is he doing better now?”

Evan shakes his head. “No, he uh. Passed. Anyway, moving back means my mom’s close again, now that I’m back here.”

“That makes sense,” Zoe says. “How’s she?”

Evan smiles. Nods. “Good. She’s good. Loves being a paralegal.”

“That’s awesome.”

Evan nods. “Your parents?”

Zoe shrugs. “They’re like… the worst divorced couple in history. They still do basically everything together. Including harassing me about when I’m going to give them grandkids.”

Evan’s smile falters a little. 

He swirls the ice in his drink. “You know. I don’t know if I ever thanked you,” he says. “For telling me? In high school.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Um. You’re welcome?”

“I know that… maybe it sounds counterintuitive,” Evan goes on. “But I think. Up until that point, things felt a little bit like… a nightmare? And I couldn’t. I couldn’t seem to wake up.” He shrugs. “And that. Well. It was kind of like getting a bucket of cold water dumped on me. It wasn’t pleasant or… whatever. But it made me realize like. My actions… they don’t just impact me. My decisions, my regrets? Like. They weren’t only a part of my life. They effected the people around me. And I needed… to learn to deal with being, like, human. To understand that nobody is ever really alone. You know?”

It’s Zoe’s turn to look down at her drink. “Yeah. I think I’m… still learning that one.”

Evan nods. “I think everyone is. And the people who don’t ever bother…?”

“Are assholes,” Zoe finishes. 

“Yeah exactly.” Evan gives her a wistful grin. “Like, take my dad for example. The guy took off when I was a kid. He remarried and ended up having a really messy second divorce from my step-mom? And then he finds out he’s sick… and then suddenly he’s all about making things right. And like. Yeah. It was good that he realized, but it took him like. Almost sixty years?”

Zoe nods. “Yeah definitely.”

Evan shakes his head. “Sorry. That got kind of depressing.”

“Honestly?” Zoe says. “Sometimes it’s nice. To have someone be real with you like that.”

Evan nods. “Yeah. Definitely.”

They end up getting a second drink. Zoe looks at the live stream of the baby chick… or at least. The eggs waiting to become baby chicks. 

“I try to keep an eye on them,” Evan says. “Just because I don’t want anybody hatching and catching me off guard at seven am.”

The conversation drifts easily between topics. 

“Hey, I meant - I mean, if it’s okay, I found something recently?” 

Zoe isn’t following. “What?”

“My mom’s been going through a bunch of old photos lately,” Evan explains. “Started after my dad died, we were looking for old photos of him for the memorial. But she found these pictures of my bar mitzvah?” 

Zoe feels her stomach drop a little. “I never knew you had a bar mitzvah,” She says weakly. 

“Yeah,” Evan says with a small, sort of embarrassed smile. “It wasn’t, like. A big huge deal. But I realized… Connor was there?”

Zoe holds her breath. 

“I remember your mom telling me about how he only ever got invited to the one… and I guess. I didn’t realize it was mine. Like. Small world, right?”

“Do you remember him there?” Zoe says. 

Evan gives her a tentative smile. “I don’t remember a ton but…” He shrugs. “I was. Really embarrassed, like, about the dancing and music. And I hid out, back against the wall, for a while. And that’s what… that’s what Connor was doing too.” 

Zoe nods, hungry for more details. 

“I mean, I don’t remember exactly what we talked about,” Evan tells Zoe. “But I remember he hung out with me for most of the night? You know how kids sometimes do that at parties? Just find someone and stick to them all night.” Evan unlocks his phone and pulls up a slightly grainy picture. “Anyway, my mom found this picture. It’s a little bit blurry but like...” He slides the phone over to her. 

There’s Connor, standing beside Evan in that striped tie. His hair is a halo of wild curls. Evan is shorter with round cheeks and his eyes are a little overly bright. Zoe can see he’s gesturing with his hands in the picture. 

“I wanted to send it, like, right away,” Evan tells Zoe. “But then I… I mean I thought it might be rude to just, like, email it to you when we haven’t talked in forever.” 

“I’d really like it if you’d send it,” Zoe says. “Thank you for showing me.” 

“I’m sorry that I never realized I had this,” Evan tells her. 

Zoe shakes her head. “It was a long time ago. I definitely couldn’t tell you any details about my thirteenth birthday these days.” 

The conversation continues its lazy meander through various topics. Somehow Zoe mentions she’s in therapy. She thinks Evan mentions it first. “I’m seeing a new therapist. And it’s kind of weird.”

“Is it helping?” Evan asks her. 

Zoe nods. “Yeah. It’s definitely weird now. Like I trained for a while to be, like. On the other side of the couch.”

Evan nods. “Yeah. That’s gotta be weird. They can’t pull any, like, Jedi mind tricks on you. Since you know all the rules.”

“Funnily enough, Dr. Sherman still manages to catch me sometimes,” Zoe laughs. 

Evan’s eyes go big. “Your therapist’s name is Dr. Sherman?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s probably not the same person,” Evan says. “But I saw a Dr. Sherman in high school. He’s the one who. You know. Assigned the letters?”

Zoe doesn’t know if she knew that. “My Dr. Sherman is a woman,” Zoe says after a while. 

Evan nods. “Still. Kind of funny, right? Like, what are the odds?”

“Yeah.”

They have one last drink and then call it a night. 

“Hey, don’t think I’m weird,” Zoe says suddenly. “But could I like. Have your number? Maybe we could do this again.”

Evan grins brightly. “I’d love that,” he says. “Maybe next time I won’t actually run you down in the street.”

“Here’s hoping,” Zoe jokes. 

“But seriously, text me sometime. I’d love to catch up more than once every five to ten years,” Evan says. He sounds earnest. His eyes are clear and bright and he doesn’t seem to be hunching in on himself like he’s afraid his pieces will spill out if he doesn’t. 

“Me too,” Zoe tells him. 

Evan walks Zoe to her car. On the way, frowns for a second when his phone starts to buzz,  and says, “Shit, lemme take this quick.”

Zoe does her best not to eavesdrop, but it’s a little hard not to. 

“No. Yeah I’ll be home soon,” Evan says. “Yeah. If you could let her out. Yeah. Thanks. Love you too. Bye.” He smiled sheepishly at Zoe. “Sorry about that. Just making sure the dog has been out.”

Zoe nods. 

Part of her is curious. Who the person on the other side of the line is. Who it is that Evan loves back. 

“It was really great catching up,” Zoe tells Evan as they reach her car. 

“Yeah. It really was.”

They go in for a semi- awkward hug. Brief and top tight and unsure. 

“Take care,” Evan says to her. “Watch out for distracted weirdos on the sidewalk, okay?”

Zoe smiles and laughs. “Be safe.”

Evan waves as he heads down the block. 

As Zoe gets home, she calls her mom’s number. 

“Hey sweetheart. I’ve got you on speaker, your dad is here!”

“You guys will never believe who I just ran into,” Zoe says. 

Chapter 7: Chapter Seven

Summary:

Zoe has a new client at work and another chance to talk to her brother.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Zoe,” Naomi says to her on Monday morning. “Just as heads up. Your ten o’clock is here.”

Zoe nods. “Cool, I’ll head down to meet them.”

“Just so you’re prepared,” Naomi says. “Her former case worker, Michael. Had a lot of issues with her. She’s not... the most compliant.”

Zoe nods. 

“She’s a heroin user. They can be pretty hard to manage, so let me know if you need support,” Naomi says. 

Zoe nods. 

She takes the elevator down to meet with her client. The client’s name is Violet. She’s thirty one. 

Zoe blinks in surprise. Her birthday is the same as her brother’s. 

That’s a bit spooky. 

Zoe meets her in the lobby. 

Something about her makes Zoe’s heart speed up. She’s rail thin, with long, lanky limbs, and brown hair that’s falling over one eye. She’s got on a black hoodie and ripped black jeans. Combat boots. 

“Hi… Violet?”

She looks up. 

“I’m Zoe. I’m your new case manager. You want to come with me?”

Violet stands up. She’s at least six feet tall. She swings a messenger bag over her shoulder. 

“It’s great to meet you,” Zoe says as they head to the elevator. 

“What happened to the other guy? Mike?”

“He moved onto another position,” Zoe says easily. 

“Good. Guy was an asshole.” Violet peaks out from under her hair at Zoe. “You an asshole?”

“Sometimes,” Zoe says with a shrug. “I try not to be though.”

Violet quirks a smile. 

They head into one of the meeting rooms. Zoe closes the door. Looks over Violet’s file. “So it looks like you haven’t been in in a while?”

Violet shrugs. “I don’t have a car.”

Zoe makes a note. “Okay. That definitely makes it harder to get around. I had to use the bus to get around like a month ago, it was a pain.”

“Don’t do that,” Violet says. “Act like we’re the same. That outfit definitely didn’t come from the thrift store, princess.”

Zoe frowns. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m trying too hard to seem relatable.”

Violet quirks another smile. 

“Do you need help with transportation, though? Because that I can help with. I’ve got gift cards for ride shares. A bus pass. Would any of that be helpful? You won’t offend me if you say no.” 

Violet blinks at her. “Uh. Yeah. Actually. The rideshare thing might help.” She says it softly. “I work third shift? So if I get cut early, the buses aren’t always running.”

Zoe nods. “Okay. When we’re finished here, I’ll get you a few of those. Let me know if you need more.” She passes her card over to Violet. “The cell number just goes to me. So you can call, text. Whatever works.”

Violet nods. 

“So. This is really just a check in. How have things been going?”

Violet shrugs. “I mean. Haven’t won the lottery or whatever.”

Zoe smiles. 

“I mean. I guess it’s been okay?”

Zoe nods. “And how have you been feeling? Felt sick at all? Fatigued?”

Violet shuts her eyes for a moment. There’s big bags under her eyes. “I mean, yeah. Fatigue? That’s like. Just life.”

Zoe nods. “How about meds? You still taking them?”

Violet picks at her nail polish. Her fingernails are short and blunt and painted a dark blue. “I’ve been trying,” she says. “But the last ones the doc put me on made me super fucking sick.” Her cheeks color a bit. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to swear.”

Zoe laughs. “You can swear all you fucking want. We’re all adults here.”

Violet nods. 

“Sick like how?” 

“To my stomach. Honestly thought I was pregnant or some shit, I was so nauseous,” Violet says 

Zoe nods. “Maybe it’s not a good regime for you.”

Violet shrugs. 

“Tell you what,” Zoe says, reaching for the phone. “While you’re here, how about I see if I can’t squeeze you in to see Dr. Beck?”

Violet blinks. “You can do that? That Mike asshole always said I had to make another appointment.”

“I’m not supposed to,” Zoe admits. “But my job is to make sure you stay in treatment and yours isn’t working for you. So I’d rather bend the rules. That okay?”

Violet nods. 

Zoe calls Alana. “Any chance you’ve got twenty minutes for a consult?” Zoe asks. “I’ve got a client whose meds are making her too nauseous to take them.”

“Shit. Yeah. Bring her up in fifteen?”

“Thanks.” Zoe looks over at Violet when she hangs up. “Okay cool, we’ll head up in ten.” She nods at Violet. “How’s everything else going with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said that your job is good, but getting around kind of sucks. Your meds aren’t helping. But that’s just like… baseline. How’s everything else?”

Violet blinks. Eyes her cautiously. “I just uh. I took in a stray cat?”

Zoe nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah she was like. Living under my porch,” Violet says. “You wanna see a picture?”

Zoe nods. Violet pulls up a picture of a little tabby cat on her phone. 

“She’s really cute,” Zoe says. 

“She’s evil,” Violet says, her face more animated. “She’s like this. Vicious little shithead. Like she might be part raccoon. She got into my trash can the other day because I threw out an empty tuna can. Ripped the bag to shreds. I love her, she’s the worst pet in history.” 

Zoe smiles. “What’s her name?”

“Princess,” Violet says. 

Zoe laughs out loud. “Perfect, oh my god.”

Violet laughs back. 

Zoe gets her in to see Alana. She asks Zoe if she can stay during the appointment, so Zoe camps out in a chair near the exam table. 

Alana goes over some standard questions. Says she’ll need to draw some blood. 

Violet swallows audibly. “Uh. Yeah. Can you go for my right arm? My veins aren’t so good on the left.”

Alana doesn’t react. She just agrees. 

“You having any issues with abscesses or cellulitis?” Alana asks her. “I can get you some antibiotics if you are.”

Violet looks over at Zoe uncertain. Zoe realizes that for whatever reason, Violet trusts her. 

“Better to take care of it now if you do,” Zoe suggests gently. 

Violet nods, then slowly peels her hoodie off. 

Her veins aren’t too bad. Zoe expected worse. But there is a nasty looking sore in the crook of her arm. 

“I haven’t been shooting there since it happened,” Violet says, a little defensive. “Andi keep it clean.”

Alana nods. “It looks pretty good,” she says. “But I’ll probably send you home with an antibiotic just to make sure you kick it totally, okay? Sometimes these guys look like they’ve healed up, but the infection has just moved under the skin.”

Violet nods. “Okay.”

Alana redressed the wound. Draws a vial of blood. Tells Violet she’s setting her up on new meds that some patients say works better for them. Easier on the GI tract. 

When all is said and done, Violet leaves with some rideshare cards, two filled prescriptions, and a follow up appointment in a month. 

“And let me know if anything comes up and you need to reschedule,” Zoe tells her. “Yeah?”

Violet nods. “Thanks. You’re. Pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” Zoe says. “You’re pretty cool too.”

 

She thinks about Violet the rest of the day. Her guardedness. The fact that Naomi said she was difficult to work with. The fact that she seemed nervous to get the help she needed. 

The fact that everything about her reminded Zoe of her brother. 

She’s still puzzling over that when she gets to therapy 

Dr. Sherman asks what’s on her mind. 

“My brother was a drug addict,” Zoe says without preamble. 

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“My parents. They kind of just. Ignored it?” Zoe says. “I mean he did a brief stint in rehab the summer before he died but. Mostly we don’t talk about it. Don’t talk about that part of his life.”

Dr. Sherman writes something down. “Did you talk about it when he was alive?”

Zoe shakes her head. “Other than pointing out when he was high… no.”

“Do you know what he was using?” 

Zoe sighs. “At first it was just pot. But after a while he kind of… branched out? Mostly I think it was pills. My parents didn’t… we didn’t talk about it.” She clears her throat. “He overdosed on painkillers. That’s how he died.”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“I was… I could be a bit of a dick about it,” Zoe says. “I like. I thought he was so stupid. Blamed him. Told him more than once that it was embarrassing to have a junkie for a brother.” She shakes her head. 

“You were sixteen,” Dr. Sherman points out. 

“It wasn’t like I was an angel,” Zoe says. “I smoked a decent amount of weed. Drank. I just. You know. It was okay if I did it…”

Dr. Sherman nods. 

“I wasn’t even worried,” Zoe goes on. “Just. Mad at him. I asked him once if he fucked everything up on purpose.”

Dr. Sherman nods again, jotting something down. 

“I mean. I just. I didn’t care that it was dangerous. I didn’t care that… he could get hurt. I was just mad because it… I didn’t like how it made me look.” Zoe shakes her head. “I hated him for it but I never thought about… why. Why he was using. Why that was something he was doing to cope.”

Dr. Sherman folds her arms. “What would you do differently?” She asks. 

“I… I’d have been less of a dickhead,” Zoe says. “I might have asked. What was going on for him.” She frowns. “There’s so much I still don’t understand about how… how he died. How things fell apart so quickly. It felt like, you know, one day he was his usual, miserable self and the next… he was gone.”

Dr. Sherman clicks her tongue. “It’s possible that you won’t ever fully understand.”

Zoe sighs. “I know. But I… I could have tried. Maybe if I knew… anything about how he was. Who he was before he died… maybe it wouldn’t be so damn hard.”

Dr. Sherman caps her pen, as if what Zoe said settled something for her. “Well. I don’t see any harm in you trying.”

Zoe blinks. “Really?”

“Can I trust that there isn’t anything you will do to try to change what happens to Connor?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

Zoe nods solemnly. “I know I can’t change that.” She swallows hard. “It’s painful. But I know. I know.

“Alright. Then I’d like you to step through the door,” Dr. Sherman says. 

Zoe gets up. She feels a little nervous. She’s not totally sure where she’s going. 

But she trusts Dr. Sherman. 

So she looks back and then heads through the door. 

Zoe steps out into the darkened hallway outside of her childhood bedroom. It’s late. She can feel it in the way her eyes aren’t fully awake. In the sluggishness of her brain. 

She looks around, trying to figure out what she’s doing. She hears the sound of glass shattering. Of something heavy crashing to the floor. 

Zoe flinches. 

Takes a few careful steps toward Connor’s bedroom. She can see a crack of light at the bottom of his door. 

“Connor?” Zoe says quietly. She pushes on the door, and it swings open easily. 

She finds him sprawled out on the floor, blinking uncertainly like he’s not sure how he got there. 

His bedside table is overturned, and Zoe can see that the lamp has smashed on the floor. There’s stuff all around him. Broken lamp. Dirty clothes on the floor. A belt a few feet from his head. 

“Connor?” She says again. 

He blinks a couple more times. Then says, his voice dull and empty. “Ow.”

“What happened?” Zoe asks. 

“S’nothin’, nothin’ happened.” His words are slow. Slurred. He’s high. And disoriented. 

And that’s when Zoe sees blood. Whatever Connor had been doing, he must have tried to catch the lamp before it hit the floor. She can see that his hand and arm are bleeding. 

“Shit,” she says quietly. “Are you okay?”

Connor slowly pushes himself up so he’s sitting. “Why do you care?” He accuses. 

But then he catches sight of his injured hand. His face drains of color so quickly it’s kind of terrifying. Zoe hurries to his side before Connor can pass out, nearly tripping herself on the belt on the floor. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” She says immediately, wrapping an arm around his shoulders automatically. “Breathe through your nose, okay? Deep breath.” 

He inhales slowly. She feels his shoulders shift as he draws breath. Zoe realizes that she’s touching him. He’s physically there. Present. Connor is here. She can see him. Talk to him. Touch him. He’s here, he’s right here. 

And he’s hurting. 

“Fuck,” Connor says. He looks sick. “I don’t…” He shakes his head. 

“Don’t look,” Zoe says immediately. “Don’t look, okay?” Zoe gets an arm around his waist. “Let’s get you up.”

“Okay,” he says. Doesn’t protest at all. It’s weird. Connor in her memory is all fight. He’s a contrary bastard who’d tell you the sky was green just because you annoyed him. He’d resist help at every step of the way. 

But he doesn’t protest. He just lets Zoe help him up. 

He’s so fucking skinny. He feels fragile and so small under her hands. She hates it. She really hates it. 

Once Connor’s standing, he sways dangerously, his eyes fixated on the stream of blood trickling down his arm. “That’s… that’s. That doesn’t look good.”

“Don’t look,” Zoe says. “Okay? Don’t look.” She tugs him toward the door. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay.”

Zoe carefully steers him into the bathroom. Closes the lid of the toilet and sits him down. “What happened?” She asks, going under the sink for the first aid kit. 

“I… Fell,” Connor says slowly. 

“Okay,” Zoe says. “Gimme your arm, okay? And don’t look.”

Connor gingerly holds his injured arm out for her. Zoe holds it over the sink. Flicks on another light so she can see better. 

There’s a few pieces of glass sticking out of his hand. “Okay,” Zoe says. “Don’t look. There’s some glass I need to pull out.”

He’s so pale. “Fuck.”

“Don’t look, okay? I’ll be quick. Just breathe through your nose, okay?” 

Connor nods. Breathes shallowly. 

Zoe grabs the tweezers out of the first aid kid. She pulls the first piece of glass out. 

“Fuck, ow,” Connor says. His arm twitches. His breathing hitches.  

“I know. I’m sorry. Just gimme a sec, okay?” Zoe says. She pulls the next piece out. His arm is shaking in her hands. 

“Zo, I’m…”

“Just one more,” she says softly. She grasps the piece of glass with the tweezers and yanks it out. A rush of blood follows, hot and sudden, coating his fingers and wrist. 

And then Connor is immediately leaning over the garbage can and throwing up. He’s shivering hard. Zoe swears under her breath as he heaves again, trembling harder still. 

“Okay,” she says softly. “Hard part’s over.”

“It is?” Connor says thickly. 

“Yeah.” She grabs a washcloth and wraps it around his arm tightly. “Can you hold this? Put pressure? I’ll get you some mouthwash to rinse your mouth out.” 

Connor grabs his arm in his other shaking hand. Narrows his eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?” He asks. “You’re not… you don’t like me. You hate me.”

“Just… go with it okay?” Zoe says desperately. 

“Fucking… weird, Zo. You’re being… fucking weird right now.”

Zoe gives him a tiny paper cup of mouthwash. He rinses and spits. Zoe takes the puke filled garbage and sticks it out in the hallway. 

Then she slowly eases Connor down to the floor. “I gotta clean those cuts,” she says. “And I don’t want you to hit your head if you pass out.”

Connor nods weakly. He’s still so pale. 

“Talk to me,” Zoe says as she grabs the first aid kit. “What did you do tonight?”

Connor leans back against wall. Looks up at the ceiling. “Nothing really. Was trying to read but…”

Zoe nods, getting to work on cleaning out the cuts on his hand and wrist. “What were you reading?”

He exhales a little noisily. “Um. The uh… The Great Gatsby. Was supposed to read it last year. But I didn’t finish.” He flinches as Zoe dabs at the cuts with hydrogen peroxide. “I gave a whole… presentation. Never finished the book. Just… bullshited my way through.” He pulls a face. “Bullshat?”

Zoe shrugs. 

She pulls the tube of antibiotic ointment out. “How come you couldn’t really read?”

Connor sighs. “Kept… nodding off.”

Zoe nods. 

She starts to use bandaids to cover the smaller cuts, but decides gauze will probably be best for the one that slices him from the heel of his hand to the top of his wrist. It’s shallow, thankfully, but long. 

“How’d you fall?”

Connor shrugs. “Stood up on the nightstand. Lost my balance.”

“What were you doing up there?” Zoe asks. 

“Parkour,” he replies. 

“Seriously Connor.”

Connor doesn’t answer for a moment. His head is still tilted back, eyes on the ceiling. When he finally speaks, his voice is careful. Guarded. “There was a spider on the ceiling.”

“A spider,” Zoe repeats dubiously. 

“Yeah,” Connor says quietly. His voice catches, just a little. “A spider.” 

Zoe finishes bandaging up his hand. She looks at him critically. “Do you need to throw up again?” Zoe asks. 

Connor shakes his head. 

“Do you think you puked up the pills you took?” She asks. “I’d rather not have to go looking for them.”

Connor narrows his eyes at her for a moment. Then something pinches in his expression. “I didn’t… swallow them.”

Zoe sighs. “Alright.” She rubs her face. “I’m just going to clean out the garbage quick, okay? Don’t leave.”

“Yeah, sure,” Connor says. 

Zoe heads down the stairs carefully and gets rid of the puke in the garbage can. She pauses on her way back up and grabs a bottle of water. 

Connor’s still leaning back against the bathroom wall. “Here. Drink this. I’m gonna go clean up in your room.”

Connor frowns at her.  “Fuck you.” It doesn’t carry the right amount of bite. Mostly he just sounds exhausted. 

“What?” Zoe sputters. “What’s your problem, I’m trying to help you?”

“Maybe I don’t want it,” Connor spits. 

Or tries. 

It doesn’t have a lot of venom. 

Zoe crosses her arms over her chest. “Well tough shit.”

“God, why are you such a bitch? ” Connor replies. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” Zoe says. 

“Jesus, you’re not gonna get some kind of merit badge for bailing me out,” he says. “Just, let it go already.”

Zoe narrows her eyes. “Why do you have throw everything back in our faces?” She demands. “Just. God. I’m trying to help. Mom and dad are trying to help.”

“Mom and dad don’t give a shit,” Connor says in a low voice. “This is just. Saving face. Dad checked out years ago, and mom just. She feels guilty.” He lowers his head to look at her. “But I don’t know what the hell your problem is.”

Zoe frowns. “ My problem? What about yours?”

Connor says nothing. 

“Maybe mom and dad want to ignore it or whatever, but I know you’re high like. All the time. That’s pretty fucked up, Connor,” Zoe says. 

“You’re kind of a hypocrite, don’t you think?” He says. “You and your band friends… always getting stoned after school.”

“At least I’m with people, ” Zoe counters. 

“Oh, I should be doing it with people?” Connor says sarcastically. “Shit, knew I should have been paying attention when they brought the D.A.R.E. in. Don’t do drugs - unless you’re with people.”

“Why do you do it?” Zoe asks without meaning to. 

“Why do you?” Connor counters. 

“I get a little stoned sometimes with my friends because it’s fun,” Zoe says. “It’s relaxing and fun. You clearly aren’t popping pills like M&Ms for kicks.”

He opens his mouth to retort but seems to come up short. Instead, Connor leans his head back. Looks up at the ceiling again. 

Zoe thinks the conversation might be over, but she refuses to move from this spot. If she leaves, if she goes out the door, she’ll lose this chance. 

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“I want it… I want it all to stop,” he says. “I just want it to stop.”

“What do you want to stop?” Zoe asks. 

She can guess. 

But she’s tired of guessing. Of trying to put the puzzle together when so many pieces have been lost or destroyed. 

“Everything,” Connor says. His voice is quiet. Really quiet. She’s almost not sure she heard him right. 

He gets to his feet suddenly. 

Zoe’s afraid he might pass out. 

“Wait. I’m not - what do you mean everything?” Zoe asks. 

“Not here,” he says. 

Zoe blinks. “Why? You think mom and dad have the place bugged?” She jokes. 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he mutters. 

“God, you’re paranoid,” Zoe comments. 

“Hey, they’re tracking your phone too,” he says. 

Zoe blinks. “My. What ?”

He shakes his head. “They talk. Mom and dad. They talk like I’m not even there.” He shrugs. “They’re totally tracking your phone. Installed some app when we got the upgrade at the beginning of the summer.”

Zoe blinks a few more times. “Jesus Christ.”

Connor gives her another shrug. Jerks his head toward the stairs. Zoe follows closely. She has no clue what is going on in his head. All she can think about is that Connor’s hair is dirty. How at this distance she can tell he smells like pot and cigarettes and a little like puke. 

Zoe watches with sort of morbid fascination as her brother disarms the security system with a couple of pushed buttons. 

“They’re so fucking stupid,” he tells her. “The code’s my birthday.”

Zoe never knew that. 

Connor leads them out onto the back patio. It’s a warm, humid night. He fumbles in his pocket. Pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Lights one. 

Coughs. 

“You’re bad at that,” Zoe comments. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, cigarette still between his lips. 

“You said…” Zoe tries.

Connor shrugs. Frowns. “Just. I know. How embarrassing I am for everyone. And I don’t know how to…” He looks up. Squinting. Zoe wonders wildly if he needs glasses. “I wish everything were different.”

The words hit her like he lobbed a block of concrete into her chest. “Fuck, Connor…”

“Look don’t get all wigged out,” he mumbles around the cigarette. “It’s just a thing. It’s just. Stop freaking out,” he accuses suddenly. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Zoe says helplessly. 

“I can like. See your brain do the thing where you rush to make everything neat and pretty and okay again,” Connor says. “Just. Jesus. Can’t I at least be a freak in my own goddamn home?”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Zoe says. 

Connor exhales smoke. “Jesus. This is why I don’t - I shouldn’t fucking - you’re not even listening .”

Zoe let’s her shoulders sag forward. “So tell me.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “I already did.”

Zoe doesn’t know what to say. She’s lost. 

She can’t save him. She can’t save him. She’s not even allowed to try. It’s against the rules. 

“You could try talking to people once school starts?” Zoe suggests lamely. 

Connor flicks ash off the end of his cigarette. “Yeah that’ll go well. Hey guys, remember me? I threw a printer in second grade. Like. Seriously Zo, you’re being dumb.”

“I forgot you called me that. Nobody else does,” Zoe blurts idiotically. 

Connor looks bewildered. “Um. Okay.” He takes another puff of his cigarette. “I didn’t stop on purpose. We just stopped talking.”

“Why did we?” Zoe says helplessly. 

Connor gives her a shrug. “Probably because I’m a fuck up.” He stubs out his cigarette. 

“Is that why you hate me?” Zoe asks. 

Connor rolls his eyes. Lights another cigarette. He doesn’t speak for a while. 

A long while. 

“I don’t hate you,” he says finally. 

“You don’t have to lie.”

“Dude no I… it would a lot fucking easier if I hated you,” Connor says in this hollow voice. 

“What would?”

“Everything.”

“Did you smack your head when you fell?” Zoe asks. “You’re being. Really weird.”

“And you’re not?” Connor retorts. “We don’t exactly have late night chats, Zo. We’re not close or friends or… just. What the fuck are you trying to do?”

“I don’t know,” Zoe admits. “Things just. They’re bad. They’re bad all the time and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You could try getting high more often,” Connor ventures. 

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” he laughs. 

But then he deflates. His shoulders slump forward. He discards his cigarette, letting it burn out on the ground. His voice comes out strangled when he speaks. “I thought it might make me… more normal. If I wasn’t so… but it’s just another fucking thing that’s wrong with me.” 

Zoe can’t bring herself to say anything. 

“Like, I’m just. I’m so fucking stupid, ” he goes on. 

“No,” Zoe tries. 

“Do you know Alana Beck?” Connor says suddenly. 

Zoe is bewildered. “Yeah.”

“I got paired with her for some dumb project at the end of the year,” Connor says, like maybe he’s not even aware he’s talking. “It’s like the third time she’s gotten stuck with me. We were - Fuck Finn and tenth grade chemistry. I think she’s. I thought she was. Maybe. But so. People were all signing yearbooks, after the final? But nobody asked to sign hers and I could tell she was watching…” He shakes his head. “She was just sitting there with her stupid fucking year book and I just. I dunno. I offered to sign it and…” He takes in this sharp, heartbreakingly young breath. “She looks at me and says, ‘Oh no thank you.’”

Zoe flinches. “Fuck.”

Connor makes this small, aborted, sad noise. 

Zoe just looks at him. 

At her brother who is hurting. Alive but in pain. 

“Like how fucking pathetic am I? I mean. She’d literally rather have zero people sign it than have me… ” Something behind Connor’s eyes seems to break. He blinks rapidly. “I keep trying and fucking it up.”

“You… I…” Zoe looks at him helplessly. She’s frozen. She can’t save him. She can’t help him. 

Connor looks at her for a long moment. His eyes look dead. Dull and lifeless and distant. Then he slumps forward. Buries his face in his hands. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Connor, come on,” Zoe says quietly. 

He won’t look at her. “I want you to leave me alone.” 

“What did I do?” She asks, lost. She doesn’t understand what flipped the switch. She’s lost the thread. 

“Nothing. You didn’t - just leave me alone,” he says. His voice is curt. Clipped. “Just. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t bother thinking about me. Just go.”

“Why?” Zoe asks. 

It’s too big of a question. Far too big. The potential answers are too vast and big. Zoe hates it. Hates herself for asking such an unanswerable question. 

“Just go,” Connor says in this sad, defeated voice. “I don’t want to… just go.”

Zoe goes. 

She doesn’t want to. Her heart is aching. Hurting. She doesn’t want to go. She wants to root herself in place beside her brother and shield him. 

Shield herself. From the horrors to come. From the way her family will fracture in Connor’s absence. 

She hurries inside, before she can turn back and try to fix the unfixable. She rushes into the first floor bathroom, unsteady and unsure if she’s making the right call, and ends up face planting on Dr. Sherman’s rug. 

“I don’t… I don’t…” Zoe sobs, unable to lift herself from the floor. “I can’t…

Dr. Sherman walks closer. Sits on the floor beside Zoe as she sobs like a hysterical little girl. Embarrassed and hurting and so broken. “He’s going to die,” she whispers. 

“Zoe,” Dr. Sherman says. “Connor is already dead.”

Zoe sobs harder. So much harder. “He was only a kid,” she says. “A messed up kid. But I made him into a monster. I hated him because I couldn’t… face that I. That I lost him.”

Dr. Sherman rests a hand on Zoe’s shoulder gently. “You were a kid too.”

“I can’t. I can’t feel this,” Zoe cries. 

“You never let yourself,” Dr. Sherman was softly. 

“I didn’t know it was the end until it was too late,” Zoe says, her voice quiet. Shocking to her own ears. “I didn’t know, and it was… it wasn’t fair. I wasn’t fair. And it kills me. It kills me because he died and I wasn’t even… I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t even have one last conversation. I just… I just… if I had known.

“If you had known, you would have tried to stop it,” Dr. Sherman says. “You’re an empathetic person. You care deeply and you love your brother. You would have tried to stop him.”

“No,” Zoe says. “That’s the worst part… I don’t think I would have.”

Dr. Sherman blinks uncertainly. 

“I was relieved when he was gone,” Zoe whispers, frantic. “I was relieved. No more fights. No more screaming at each other, no more parents hovering. Even if I had known, I might have… I. I’d have thought things would be better without him. I don’t think I would have tried to stop him at all.”

“You’re sure about that?” Dr. Sherman asks. 

“I am,” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman tilts her head. Looks at her. “You cannot play god.”

Zoe nods. 

“It might… if you had a chance for some closure?”

Zoe nods. 

“It’s against the rules. I shouldn’t even consider…” Dr. Sherman straightens up. “But you need to learn to cope. With your decisions and with Connor’s.”

Zoe wipes her face. “Okay.”

“Go through the door,” Dr. Sherman says. 

And Zoe does. 

She’s leaving her bedroom. Heading down the stairs. She feels weightless. Detached. 

She joins her parents at the table. “First day of school!” Her mom says with a big see through smile. 

Connor sinks down in a seat a few moments later. He’s obviously high. “I’ll go tomorrow,” Connor says, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. “I’m not going. I’m sick.”

Her mom, in her yoga clothes, her hair bouncing in a perky ponytail, frowns. “It’s your senior year, Connor. You’re not missing the first day.”

Connor frowns. 

Her mom turns to her dad, clearly furious that he hasn’t chimed in. “Are you going to get involved here, or are you too busy on your email, Larry?”

Her dad looks frustrated. “You have to go to school Connor.”

Connor rolls his eyes. 

“Is that all you’re going to say?” Her mom demands. 

Her dad looks especially annoyed. “What do you want me to say? He doesn’t listen,” Her dad says to her mom. “Look at him. He’s not listening. He’s probably high.”

“He’s definitely high,” Zoe mutters, because she knows her lines. 

“Fuck you,” Connor says, glaring at Zoe. 

“Fuck you,” She returns easily. She knows her lines. She knows what happens here. 

Her mom pulls anxiously on her ponytail. “I don’t need you picking at your brother right now,” Her mom says to Zoe, sounding frustrated. “That’s not constructive.” 

Zoe stares up at her. “Are you kidding?”

Her mom smooths out her hoodie. “Besides, he’s not high.” She looks over at Connor, like she’s waiting for him to agree with her. Say he’s not high. 

He says nothing. Just blinks these slow, sleepy blinks. 

Her mom looks exasperated. “I don’t want you going to school when you’re high, Connor.”

“Perfect, so then I won’t go,” he says cheerfully. “Thanks mom.” He gets up from the table. 

Her dad mutters something about the interstate being jammed, clearly irritated. Zoe reaches for the milk and finds it empty. Her mom is fussing with the pot of coffee, frantically clearing away dishes like if she moves everything into the exact right place, things will be salvageable. 

Zoe gets up. Trying to shake herself. “If Connor’s not ready I’m leaving without him,” she announces to nobody in particular. She grabs her backpack. 

Connor’s waiting by the door already, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He looks… tense. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fingers around the strap of his bag. 

“Ready?” She says to him. 

“No,” Connor says sullenly. 

But he goes out the door. 

And Zoe follows. 

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Summary:

It's Connor's last first day of school.

Chapter Text

Zoe remembers thinking back on this ride to school. She remembers turning it over and over in her mind, the edges wearing smooth, the memory blurred and distorted. The problem always was that she didn’t remember anything remarkable about the ride to school. There was no significant conversation. No argument, no finality. 

Zoe just drove them to school. 

And now she just drives them to school, feeling weak, panicky. She doesn’t know how to process that today is the day her brother will die and she cannot think of a single word to say to him. 

She gropes desperately for a topic. A sentence. Anything. 

“So. Senior year.” 

Connor’s eyes drift over to her. “God, don’t you start too.”

Zoe bites her lip. “Aren’t you even a little excited?” She tries. 

Connor just sighs restlessly. Pulls the sleeves of the jacket he’s wearing over his wrists. Zoe catches the sheen of a fresh pink scar on his wrist. 

Must be from the summer. When he fell. 

She grips the wheel. She doesn’t know what to do. What she’s allowed to do. 

“Connor,” she tries as she pulls into the parking lot. 

“What?” He snaps. 

“Jesus, don’t freak out,” Zoe says. “Just like. I hope it’s a good day or whatever.”

Connor rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah.  Sure. Whatever.”

She lets him walk into the school alone, her heart in her throat. She doesn’t know what to do. She wishes she was better prepared. 

But how do you prepare for the day your brother dies? 

Zoe loiters in the car as long as she dares, then hurries inside. She’s coming down the hall just in time to catch the end of an exchange between Jared Kleinman and Connor. 

Zoe doesn’t miss the flash of hurt in her brother’s eyes when Evan makes an awkward, half laugh of a noise. 

She thinks inexplicably of Connor telling her about offering to sign Alana Beck’s yearbook and getting rejected. 

Zoe watches, frozen, as Connor shoves Evan to the floor and calls him a fucking freak and storms off. 

Zoe wants to follow him. 

Instead she walks over to Evan. 

“Are you okay?” She asks him, feeling anxious. Jittery. “I’m sorry about my brother, I saw him push you.”

Evan looks at her with these wide, amazed eyes. Like he cannot believe she’s speaking to him. 

“You’re Evan, right?” Zoe says when he stays silent. 

“Evan,” he says. “Oh. God . Sorry. You said Evan and then I said it and I repeated it, which is just that is so annoying when people do that. Sorry-”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Zoe says. “Are you okay?” She offers him a hand up and pulls him to his feet. “I’m Zoe.”

“Zoe. Right. I know. You’re in jazz band.” He flinches. “Sorry.” Evan looks a bit dumbfounded. 

“Look, I gotta…” Zoe says vaguely, looking down the hall. “My brother’s…”

“It’s my fault,” Evan rushes to say. 

Zoe blinks at him. “No. He pushed you.”

“I laughed. Sorry. It’s like a… when I get nervous?” He says, with an anxious titter bubbling up to confirm the point. “Jared was… he’s a dick, sometimes, he shouldn’t have said that.”

Zoe tilts her head. “Said what?”

Evan’s face pinches, nervously, anxiously. “C-called him a freak and. Said he looked… like a school shooter?”

Zoe feels like she’s been punched. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that was how the day started for him. She just didn’t know. 

“Sorry, shit, I’m not trying to - it was my fault. I laughed and it’s not… I didn’t think it was funny, just.” Evan wears this pained expression as he says the words. “I’m just. Awkward. Fuck.”

Zoe looks at him seriously. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

Evan gives her a nervous smile. 

“I gotta… nice meeting you Evan,” Zoe says. “Sorry again.”

She hurries down the hall. Looking for Connor. She doesn’t have any idea what his first class of the day is. She doesn’t even know if he went. But he’s nowhere in sight. 

Defeated, Zoe goes to her own first class. 

She looks for her brother in the halls during passing periods, but she never so much as catches a glimpse. Her heart is rattling against her ribs. There’s a clock, a ticking timer, a bomb about to blow up her life. 

And she can’t stop it. 

She’s not allowed to stop it. 

When she’s released for lunch, Zoe heads immediately for the library. That is something she does know. Her brother prefers to hide there during lunch. More than once, she’s overheard her parents commenting about emails from the librarians. Connor having an outburst or Connor coming to the library when he skips class or Connor scaring the shit out of a librarian because she didn’t realize he was still there after school until he appeared in the darkened doorway. 

He likes the library. 

She searches all of the tables. No sign of him. So Zoe starts poking around the stacks. She’s starting to lose hope when she spots his boots. Connor’s sunk against the back wall where the stacks get narrower. Folded up on himself, his head resting on his knees. 

He could be asleep. He’s so quiet and still. 

He could be asleep. Or he could be dead. 

But after a moment he startles, noticing the shadow Zoe casts. 

“The fuck do you want?” He asks. 

“Nice one pushing that kid this morning,” Zoe says conversationally. “I’m sure he was really hoping to break his other arm on the first day back.”

Connor’s eyes go big. Distraught. “I hurt him?” He says softly. “Fuck.”

Zoe sinks down next to him. “No. He was fine,” she says. “But that was a pretty dick move.”

Connor hangs his head. “He’s in my English class,” Connor says after a moment. “Evan. He just… I think he just. Laughs. I’m an asshole.”

“What’s going on with you?” Zoe asks. “Since when do you give a shit what people think?”

Connor looks at her severely. “Always. I’ve always…” He shakes his head so his hair falls in front of his face. “Nevermind. Doesn’t matter.” He’s quiet for a moment. “How come you’re here?”

“I was looking for you,” Zoe says. “Evan, he said that other guy, Jared-?”

Connor shrugs. “That guy hates me.”

“Why?” 

Connor shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Zoe sighs. “No,” she says with a certainty that she knows is transparently false. 

She tries to justify it. People didn’t hate Connor. Because to hate someone you need to know them. See them. People didn’t see Connor until he was a suburban legend. And even then, they only saw the story. 

“You’re so full of shit,” Connor sighs. He sounds resigned. 

“Maybe I’m not,” she says. “I don’t hate you.”

“Now you’re really full of shit,” Connor says. He sounds almost amused. 

“I’m not.”

Connor leans his head back. “You are. You’ve always been a shitty liar.”

“So have you,” Zoe points out. “The second you figured out the Santa lie, you told me.”

“No,” Connor denies. “Not true. I totally knew for years. I just let you think that i found out right before you so you wouldn’t feel stupid.”

Zoe isn’t sure if she believes him. 

“Shouldn’t you go eat lunch with all your friends?” Connor says. 

“I’m good here,” Zoe says easily. 

“You’re being really weird,” Connor says. He sounds tired. 

“It’s our last first day of school together,” Zoe says. “So sue me if I’m feeling a little sentimental.”

“It’s your funeral,” He mutters. Connor almost quirks a smile then. “Remember when you started kindergarten?” He says suddenly. 

Zoe does. She talked a big game at home about how excited she was to start going to school for real, but then when she got on the bus and it was full of other, bigger kids, she clung to Connor the whole ride. 

“Yeah,” she says. “I totally freaked out and made you hold my hand the whole ride.”

Connor sighs. “You don’t remember shit right,” he says. “ I freaked out. Austin Miller was on our bus and he’d been stealing my snacks at the end of the year before. You held my hand because I was afraid he’d try to take it again.”

Zoe blinks a few times. The memory resurfaces. Fuzzy and imperfect. Zoe wore a skirt that had little cherries on it. Connor had on a polo. He kept complaining that the buttons were choking him. She wanted to go sit by her friend from Pre-K, but he asked her to sit by him. She stuck her tongue out at that little shit Austin. 

“I forgot.” 

Connor huffs out a little laugh. “Guess school’s never really been my thing.”

She’s not sure why, but Zoe finds herself saying, “You could turn it around this year.”

Connor lets out another hollow little laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Maybe I’ll go out for football too.”

“Basketball might be a little easier,” she says. “Since you’re basically a tree.”

Connor snorts. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” she returns. 

The bell rings. 

Lunch is over. 

“Well I better…” Zoe starts. Doesn’t finish. She doesn’t want to go. 

She doesn’t want him to go. 

Connor gets up. “You’ve got that jazz band thing after school, right?”

Zoe nods. “If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll drive you home.”

Connor nods. “Sure. I’ll just go to the computer lab or whatever.”

He holds out a hand and pulls her to her feet with a little too much force. She ends up crashing against his chest, and he flings an arm around her to keep her from toppling over. 

It’s the closest she’s gotten to a hug from him in forever. 

It breaks her heart. 

“See ya,” Connor says. 

“Later,” Zoe replies. 

She feels queasy and sick the rest of the school day, these ongoing stabs of panic catching her off guard and sending her reeling. 

She can’t believe this is it. 

She hates this. 

Zoe prays with each door she walks through that she’ll go back. She can’t watch this anymore. She can’t be here anymore. 

But nothing pulls her back. 

The jazz band does this dumb inaugural meeting after school on the first day. Mostly it’s just some pizza and snacks and everyone finds out what chair they’re playing in the bigger sections. Zoe is one of only two guitarists so it’s not as exciting for her. 

She can’t eat the pizza. Can’t taste the cookie she crams in her mouth. The hours are ticking down too fast. She wants a time out. She wants to pull the emergency brake. 

Connor’s waiting outside by her car when she gets there, smoking a cigarette and shoving something into his pocket. She can tell immediately that he’s upset. 

“What’s wrong?” Zoe asks when she’s in ear shot. 

“Nothing,” he mutters. “Can we go?”

“Sure.”

She starts her car. Her hands white knuckle the steering wheel. She stops at a green light because she’s so stuck in her head. There’s a countdown clock in her brain, ticking the minutes away. 

“Zo, what the fuck?” Connor says when someone behind them lays on their horn. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she lies. “I slept like shit last night.”

Connor nods. “Yeah. Me too. Maybe we have a gas leak.”

Zoe presses the gas pedal. Driving them toward home. 

“Holy shit, who put that up?” Connor comments. Zoe glances up to see a giant billboard that reads, “THE END IS NEAR.”

She wants to throw up. 

“Probably some Bible thumpers,” she says vaguely. 

The end is near. 

The end is nearly here. She hates this. 

The front door doesn’t take her back to Dr. Sherman’s office. Zoe hates the red painted monstrosity for not taking her away. 

“Hey guys!” Their mom greets them. “How was the first day?”

“Fine,” Zoe says. 

Connor offers a shrug. “At least it’s the last one.”

Their mom suddenly looks overcome and pulls an unwilling and somewhat uncooperative Connor into a hug. “I can’t believe it’s my baby’s last year of high school already.”

Connor looks oddly stricken. “Yeah.”

“Do you like your classes? Was your schedule okay? Did you -?”

“I have homework,” Connor cuts her off. He breaks away and goes up the stairs. 

Zoe locks eyes with her mom. 

“Well,” she says in this false cheerful tone. “At least he’s doing his homework.”

Zoe nods. “I should do that too,” She says quietly. 

Her mom’s smile wilts. “Yeah. Of course honey.” She gives a sad sort of smile. “Your father promised he’d be home in time for dinner tonight.”

“Great,” Zoe says vaguely. 

She heads up the stairs. 

Her bedroom door doesn’t work either. 

In her desperation, Zoe walks to her closet and steps inside. 

Nothing. 

She paces her bedroom like a caged animal. She can’t do this. She starts to cry, frustration and fear and horror pouring from her. She can’t keep pacing. She can’t keep moving. 

She can’t believe this happening all over again. 

When she’s called down for dinner, Zoe finds Connor setting the table. Their mom seems delighted and shocked. 

Their dad is nowhere to be seen. 

“Tell me more about your days,” her mom tries. “Are your teachers nice?”

Zoe shrugs, straightening a napkin. “Yeah. I think.”

“My English teacher seems cool,” Connor offers quietly. “We have a banned book project.”

“What are you thinking about reading?” Their mom asks. 

Connor offers a shrug. “Not sure yet.”

Because he won’t be alive to read anything else. 

Because he won’t be here. 

Their dad is late for dinner. Their mom is on edge and snappy about it. She makes them wait fifteen minutes before giving in and letting them start to eat, only for their dad to burst through the door with a detached, “Sorry, sorry, I’m here.” 

Zoe watches Connor mixing his green beans into his potatoes distractedly. She’s not sure he’s even taken a bite. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Their mom says. 

“The interstate was a mess,” their dad says defensively. 

“Can I be excused?” Connor asks. “I’m tired. I don’t feel well.”

“You hardly touched your dinner,” their mom says. “I made your favorite…”

Connor shrugs his shoulders in this lifeless way. Like a marionette on strings with a bored puppeteer at the controls. “I’m not very hungry.”

“Finish your dinner, Connor,” their dad says, irritation seeping into his words. “I just got home.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” Connor says testily. 

“Guys, can you not?” Zoe pipes up. “Can we have one dinner without arguing?”

Connor shoots her a nasty look. 

He stands up. 

“Sit down Connor,” their dad snaps. 

“No.” Connor shoves his chair in aggressively. The chair slamming hard into wood makes a loud bang. It makes the cutlery rattle. Makes Zoe’s teeth rattle. 

“Sit your ass down and finish your food,” their dad says. 

“Larry,  leave him be,” their mom interjects. “It was the first day back, he’s tired.”

“You’re eating your dinner,” Their dad argues, his voice growing louder. Zoe wants to clap her hands over her ears. She wants to pretend none of this is happening. 

“I’m not fucking hungry,” Connor says back. 

“We’re having a family meal,” their dad retorts. 

“Yeah, which you were late to,” Connor spits.

“Guys, please -” Zoe begs, helpless. She’s ignored. 

“I’m done,” Connor says, starting to turn.

Their dad gets to his feet. “If you don’t sit down and eat something-”

“Fuck you,” Connor says, his voice brittle and weak. He stomps away from the table. 

Zoe feels like crying. 

Connor’s door slams upstairs. 

Dinner was the last time she ever saw him alive. It was the last time she ever saw him as a living, breathing person. Not as a body. Not a corpse or a puppet to be manipulated in someone else’s lies. 

Zoe gets up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Their dad says, turning on her. 

“To check on him,” she says immediately. 

Her parents exchange a look. 

“Well, someone has to!” Zoe says. 

She races up the stairs. 

This is her last chance. Her last chance to tell him that she loves him. That she doesn’t want him to go. That she doesn’t know how to exist in a world where he isn’t. That she’s been trying for over a decade and it never gets better or easiest or liveable. That it just keeps hurting. 

Zoe makes it to Connor’s bedroom, and flings his door open without knocking. 

Connor startles and a bottle of pills flies out of his hand. Clatters to the floor with a rattle. 

“What is that?” Zoe demands even though she knows. She knows. Those are the pills that will kill him. 

“Nothing,” Connor says, and he sounds alarmed. “Meds. Don’t be-”

Zoe dives for them. 

Connor dives as well, but Zoe is faster. She clutches the bottle of pills tightly in her hand. On the label she reads her father’s name and a direction to take as needed for pain management. 

“What are you doing with these?” Zoe demands. 

“Nothing!”

“You’re stealing drugs from dad now?” Zoe says in a shrill, terrified voice. The words come unbidden. Without her permission. 

“Fuck you. Give those back.”

She’s supposed to. She has to. Those are the rules. Those are the fucking rules. Zoe isn’t allowed to change this. 

She clutches them closer to her chest. “Why do you have the whole bottle?” She demands. “Why not just steal a couple?”

“I… Give them back, ” Connor pleads. “I need them, please give them back.”

Zoe absolutely cannot do that. She can’t. “MOM!” She screams. “MOM GET UP HERE NOW!”

“Give them back,” Connor begs, his eyes huge and scared. “Zo, please give them back.”

“What are they for?” She asks again. “What are they for, Connor?”

There are footsteps on the stairs. 

“Zo. Please.

“What’s going on?” Her mom says, a little out of breath. She looks between Connor and Zoe, like she doesn’t understand. 

Zoe hands the pills to her mother. “Connor had these. I think he’s planning to take them all - to hurt himself.”

“Fuck you!” Connor shouts. 

“He has a whole bottle,” Zoe goes on. “He’s gonna try to kill himself!”

“Fuck! You!” Connor screams. “You’re so full of shit!”

“Is that true?” Her mom asks, her voice tremulous and sad. She’s holding the bottle to her chest. “Connor is that-?”

“No! She’s lying! She’s full of shit,” Connor says immediately. But his angry, hard exterior is crumbling. He looks really scared. “She’s full of shit.”

“Connor,” Their mom says quietly. Sadly. She reaches for him and he recoils. “Why do you have these pills, sweetheart?”

Connor looks wildly around the room. Cornered. Trapped. His eyes are big and scared. He’s looking for an escape route but Zoe and her mom have blocked the only one. They’ve got him backed into a corner. Their dad comes up the stairs, wanting to know why they’re yelling. 

“What on earth-?”

“Connor has a bottle of pills,” Zoe says frantically. “He wants to die. He was going to take them. He was going to take them and kill himself.” 

Their dad looks almost amused. “Zoe, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ask him!” Zoe shouts. “Ask him why he had them then!”

Their dad’s bravado fades. His eyebrows knit together. “Connor?”

Connor takes a shaky breath. He’s shaking his head frantically, his hands over his ears. “No. Shut up. All of you shut up.”

“Baby, what is going on? You weren’t really thinking of… of hurting yourself?” Their mom asks. 

Connor stares at Zoe. Right at her for a long moment. He looks so betrayed. So hurt. So lost. 

And then Connor’s shoulders buckle and shake. He looks down, hair in his face. “I don’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

Zoe lets out a sob of relief. He admitted it. He’s admitted to it. 

“What can’t you do, Connor?” Their mom asks, her voice smooth and soothing and gentle.

“I can’t… I can’t be alive anymore,” he whispers. “I’m ruining your lives. I’m ruining everything. I don’t want to be alive anymore.”

Their mom scoops Connor into a hug. Sinks down on the bed beside him, and he just. Breaks. Cries helplessly into her hair, his arms wrapped tight around her. She rocks him like a baby, whispers comforting nonsense that Zoe can’t make out apart from the occasional “I love you so much.”

“Connor, what has gotten into you?” Their dad asks. 

Connor pulls immediately and almost violently away from their mom. “Everyone hates me and… it would be better if I didn’t exist at all,” he says through tears and hiccups. “It would be better for all of you if I was just dead.”

Their dad turns to Zoe. “We need to talk to your brother,” he says decisively. 

“But I’m the one who- I need to make sure he’s-”

“Zoe, go to your room. Now.”

Zoe looks at Connor. Their eyes meet. His flood with tears. “I…”

“Now Zoe,” their dad says impatiently. 

So Zoe goes. She opens the door to her bedroom and steps into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

It looks completely different. The walls are decorated differently. There’s fewer books on the shelf. It’s sparse. Barren almost. 

Dr. Sherman looks like an ashy and pale imitation of herself. “What have you done?”

 

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Summary:

Things look a lot different when you change the past.

Chapter Text

“I had to,” Zoe says immediately. “I had to. I couldn’t just let him die.”

Dr. Sherman looks furious. “Do you have any idea what this means? You just changed an entire timeline. The side effects could be catastrophic.”

Zoe swallows hard. Says nothing. 

“You swore you wouldn’t try to change it,” Dr. Sherman says. 

Zoe bites her lip. Her eyes sting. “I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t let him die.”

Dr. Sherman rubs her face. She looks disgusted. “Get out.”

“What?” Zoe says, lost. 

“Get out of my office. Obviously I misjudged your ability to take your treatment seriously and… now there’s a mess I need to clean up.”

Zoe walks quickly out of the office. She doesn’t know what any of this means. She doesn’t know for sure what she’s changed. She just knows she feels off kilter and strange. 

Her phone rings in her hand, but Zoe doesn’t recognize the number or name so she ignores it. Zoe can’t find her car. 

She takes the bus back to her apartment, lost. What does this mean? 

She goes home and discovers that her key doesn’t fit in the lock of her apartment. 

Her phone rings again from the unknown number, but Zoe doesn’t answer. 

Fumbling, she orders a ride and is confused when the address listed as “home” in her app is across town. Zoe takes the ride. Gets out at the unfamiliar high rise building and walks inside, feeling like maybe she’s a ghost. 

Zoe heads inside and stairs at the mailboxes until she finds MURPHY on the mailbox for unit 1718. 

“Evening Ms. Murphy,” a doorman greets. “I just sent-”

Zoe ignores the man. She’s too busy trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Why she lives here. 

Zoe finds the unit with her name on it. Lets herself inside. 

There’s a noise coming from inside. A television or something. 

Zoe freezes when she steps into the massive living space because there’s a strange man sprawled out on her sofa. 

“What the fuck?” Zoe shouts. 

The man looks up at her, frowning. His untidy hair is falling in his thin face, but she can see there’s a bruise blossoming on his cheek. “Oh good you’re home,” he says. “I think I need some legal advice.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Zoe says in this panicked, scared voice she doesn’t recognize. Her heart is in her throat. 

He blinks. “You gave me a key?” He tilts his head like he’s confused. “Zo, what the hell?”

Zoe’s heart sputters to a stop. 

Pieces click into the place. The untidy brown curls. The rail thin frame, the hunched posture. 

The muddy blemish in the blue of his eye. 

“Connor?” She chokes out. 

Zoe reaches out and pulls him into a bone crushingly tight hug. He’s alive. He’s alive. 

He gives her a frown when he wriggles free of her grasp. “What’s going on?” He says, his voice lower. Suspicious. “Is this some kind of joke? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m… I… it’s been a weird day,” Zoe says helplessly. She sizes him up. 

He’s an adult. Like a proper grown adult. He’s gotten taller, somehow. Still skinny. Still wearing his hair kind of long, though not nearly as long as he did in high school. There’s a hole in the knee of his jeans. His socks don’t match. 

There’s a bruise on his cheek. 

“What happened?” She asks. 

Connor’s shoulders slump. “Got into it with one of the other bartenders at work last night,” he says with a falsely casual air. “Fucker was rude to Evan.”

“Evan?” Zoe repeats weakly. What does this have to do with Evan?

Connor gives her another unhappy look. “This is seriously not funny, Zo. I’m starting to worry that you hit your head or something.”

“Maybe I did,” she says vaguely, moving to sit down on the sofa. She rubs her temples. “My head is killing me.”

Connor sits next to her cautiously. “Um. Okay.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “Evan? My boyfriend? You don’t remember him?”

Boyfriend. 

What the fuck. 

What the actual fuck? Evan is Connor’s boyfriend? Since when was Evan even gay? Since when did he actually know Connor? And since when was Connor gay? What the hell was happening? 

“Evan Hansen’s your boyfriend?” She says weakly. 

Connor looks at her sharply. “I mean, I fucking hope he still is… you seriously don’t remember him? You introduced us.”

“I did?” Zoe asks helplessly. 

“Yeah, senior year. Remember? I was out for like a month and you brought him to meet me because mom and dad, like, were freaking out? Because of the letter?”

“Oh,” Zoe says. “Right. Of course. I remember now,” she lies. She cannot connect the dots. 

“You look kind of sick,” Connor remarks. 

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling… like myself,” she says softly. 

Connor gets up and comes back a minute later with a glass of water for her. Zoe rubs her temples. 

Connor is alive . He’s alive. She saved him. 

He’s alive and he’s dating Evan. 

Her brother is dating her ex boyfriend. 

And he’s alive. 

“Okay,” Connor says, his tone all business. “What do you remember?” He gives her a look. “Do you remember what you do for work?”

Zoe blinks a few times. “I’m not… I’m not sure.”

“You don’t remember becoming a lawyer?” Connor says severely. 

No. 

She doesn’t. 

A lawyer? That hardly sounds like her. 

“Okay, I think we need to go to a doctor or something,” Connor says. There is worry etched into his face. “This doesn’t seem great.”

“Wait,” Zoe says. “Just wait. Why are you here?” 

Connor looks down for a moment. “Evan told me to get lost this morning. He’s pissed about the fight.” He shakes his head. “And he like… he threw a plate at me. Like a fucking frisbee.”

“He threw a plate at you?” Zoe says, horrified. That doesn’t sound like Evan. Evan isn’t the sort who gets that kind of angry. His anger is quieter, delivered in sharp barbs, not thrown against walls. 

“It missed.” Connor’s eyes drop to his lap. “And I mean, I smashed a potted plant first. I started it.” He shakes his head. “I always fucking start it.”

“Are you okay?” Zoe asks. 

“Oh yeah,” Connor says dismissively. “I’m fine. I was pissing him off, you know? So, I figured I’d get some space.”

“Do you guys always fight like that?” Zoe asks. 

Connor gives Zoe a serious look. “You seriously don’t remember?” 

“Not… not really,” Zoe says softly. 

Connor nods. “Okay, we’re going to the hospital. Give me your keys. I’ll drive.”

“I couldn’t find my car earlier,” Zoe says because it’s the truth. “I took a rideshare here.” 

Connor looks seriously concerned. “Dude, did you come down with early Alzheimer’s or something? Start doing hard drugs?”

Zoe shrugs. 

“Fine, I’ll call a ride,” Connor says. He pulls out a phone and starts punching in something. 

“Where’s your car?” Zoe asks. 

Connor’s face pinches again. “Evan’s got it. Suspended license.”

“And you were going to drive my car?” Zoe says, alarmed. 

“Because it’s an emergency, Zo. Come on. Let’s go. Try not to pass out or whatever, alright?” Connor gets an arm around her. Starts leading her toward the door. 

“Stop. Just wait. Just stop,” Zoe says frantically. “Is this really happening?”

Connor looks even more alarmed. “Um. Yeah. It is. Come on.”

Connor loads her into the car when it pulls up. Zoe feels kind of dizzy with all this information. She grabs tightly at Connor’s hand. He gives her fingers a squeeze. Solid and real and reassuring. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” Connor tells her. 

Zoe chooses to believe him. 

Connor takes the iPad from the doctor when they get to the Emergency Room waiting room. 

“Alright, do you have any allergies?” He asks. 

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Don’t you know?” She says. They grew up together. Shouldn’t he know that?

“Of course I do, but you don’t seem to remember shit right now,” Connor says. 

“I’m allergic to bees. And Penicillin.”

Connor types it in. “Okay so you remember that,” he mumbles to himself. 

She hands over her insurance card. It takes her a while to find because she has no idea what it looks like. 

Connor frowns and watches her carefully. Like he’s trying to make the pieces fit. It’s exactly what she’s doing. 

“Hey guys.”

Zoe looks up to see Evan heading their way. He looks a bit worse for wear. Tired. Unhappy. His hair is longer than Zoe’s seen it, like he hasn’t bothered to cut it in a while. It looks remarkably like Connor’s. Curly and shaggy. He’s wearing a jacket that looks a lot like one that Connor used to wear in high school. Like they’re slowly blending into a single person. 

Connor’s posture stiffens. “I said I just needed a ride home later,” He says defensively. 

“And I thought, hey, probably not great that your sister’s in the hospital seeing as hospitals freak you out,” Evan replies snappishly. He has a seat next to Zoe. “Hey Zo. Do you remember me?”

Zoe nods slowly. 

She does. 

Just not like this. Angry. 

“Hey Evan.”

Evan gives Connor a questioning look. Connor crosses his arms. “I’m not bullshitting you. She doesn’t remember anything from, like, the last ten years.”

Evan turns to look at Zoe. “You don’t?”

Zoe shrugs helplessly. “You guys are… you’re together?” She says. 

Evan’s expression closes off. “Really nice, Connor.”

“What?” Connor says, his leg bouncing anxiously. “Far as I know, that hasn’t changed.”

Evan shakes his head, looking disgusted. “Oh sure. Now we’re together, but last night I was flirting with all of your coworkers.”

“Do you seriously think right now is a good time?” Connor says in a low voice.

“Well if Zoe can’t remember anything, maybe I ought to remind her of what a jealous prick you can be,” Evan retorts. 

Zoe can’t seem to catch her breath. “Guys…”

“You’re upsetting her,” Connor says. “Cut it out.”

Evan crosses his arms and falls quiet, leaning back in his chair. After a few minutes, Evan looks over at Connor. “Did you call them?”

Connor is chewing a fingernail. He shakes his head. 

“Fine. I’ll do that,” Evan says, like this is some big concession. He takes his phone out and walks away a few feet. Zoe hears his voice shift. Change. It’s lighter. “Hi Cynthia, it’s Evan. No, don't worry, Connor’s okay. It’s actually… So Zoe…”

“How come he’s calling mom?” Zoe asks. 

Connor pulls a face. “We’re. Uh. We’re not exactly… speaking.”

“Why not?” Zoe asks. 

Connor’s face glazes over. Goes blank. “You know. The usual. They cut me off so I’d get a ‘real job,’ and. I’m ‘irresponsible.’ That whole thing. Mom’s still pissed I skipped Christmas.”

Zoe can’t imagine a world where her mom wouldn’t want to talk to Connor, even if she was pissed off at him. It doesn’t make sense to her. Doesn’t she realize how close they came to losing him permanently? 

“Zoe Murphy?” A nurse steps out through a door. 

Zoe glances at Connor. He flaps a hand at Evan, who nods from across the waiting room. Zoe goes to follow the nurse and Connor’s a few steps behind. 

“So, looks like you’re having some unexpected memory problems?” The nurse says. 

“Yeah, she doesn’t seem to remember anything since like. High school.”

“Well, that’s not great,” the nurse says. She escorts Zoe to a bed. Takes her blood pressure and pulse and checks to see if she’s had any head trauma recently. 

“I don’t think so,” Zoe says. 

“Well. I’m going to have someone come by to check you out,” The nurse says. “You good to hang out for a few minutes.”

Zoe nods. Leans back against the pillow. 

Connor’s rubbing his face. “How you feeling?”

Zoe shrugs. “Do mom and dad like Evan?” Zoe asks. 

Connor lets out a hollow laugh. “Oh yeah they love him. He’s like their wet dream.”

At least that tracks. 

“If you could maybe not mention that we’re having problems,” Connor says quietly. Embarrassed. “I just don’t… they’ll make it into a whole damn thing. And like. You’re in the hospital.”

Zoe nods. “I can’t remember shit, remember? My lips are sealed.”

Connor gives her a conspiratorial grin. “Thanks Zo.” He comes to sit on the end of her cot. “Okay. Pop quiz. Where’d you go to college?”

“Um.” Zoe thinks. “Wisconsin?” She tries. That’s where she remembers going. 

Connor makes a noise like a buzzer. “Wrong answer. You went to University of Chicago.”

Zoe frowns. “Well where did you go?” She asks. 

Connor laughs. “Good one.”

Zoe doesn’t understand. 

“I barely graduated high school,” Connor says. “I didn’t go to college.” He scratches the side of his face, uncomfortable. “Evan gave it a try but ended up coming back home after a semester.” He gives her a hopeful smile. “Remember?”

Zoe shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Connor says in a quiet voice. “It’s okay.”

Zoe and Connor are joined by Evan after a while. Zoe undergoes a battery of tests, each leaving the doctors frowning and frustrated. 

“I think we’re going to need to take you to CT,” one of them offers. “Rule out anything serious.”

Zoe wishes she could tell them not to bother. She doesn’t remember because she changed the whole timeline. She changed her entire past. 

She saved her brother. 

Zoe’s taken off for a CT. It’s a long and boring process. When she comes back, she’s irritated to discover her parents are there. 

And arguing with Connor. 

“What happened to your face?” Their mom says in this shrill voice. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Connor says. “I’m fine. Lay off.”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” her dad snaps. 

“Oh, are you speaking to me again?” Connor says, his shoulders hunching in. 

“Connor, don’t,” Evan says sharply. 

Connor’s shoulders pull in more. 

“Zoe!” Her mom says. “Sweetheart, it's mom. How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine,” Zoe says with a shrug. “I know who you are. I just… I don’t know, I’m having a hard time keeping track of stuff.”

“Sweetheart, you work too hard,” Her mom says. She turns to their dad. “This is probably stress.”

“Don’t look at me!” Their dad says defensively. “If she wants to make partner, she needs to put in the hours. Zoe knows that.”

“Like you’re not the one pushing her,” Connor says in a low voice. 

“You have something to say to me?” Their dad says. 

“Connor, that’s enough,” Evan says, crossing his arms. “Do not do this here.”

Connor clamps his mouth shut. Looks down at his shoes. It makes him look a hell of a lot younger. Smaller. 

Zoe is amazed. Nobody could ever manage to get him to slow down once he was angry. Ever. Yet Evan seems to have unlocked that possibility. 

The doctors all agree that Zoe doesn’t seem to be in any danger. Her short term memory seems impacted, but she is retaining new information. 

“We should monitor her symptoms,” the neurologist says. “But honestly we can’t find anything that could be causing this.” They tell her she can be released but shouldn’t be alone. 

Their dad grumbles about incompetence and their mom tells him to be respectful to the doctors and Connor starts to open his mouth but closes it when he sees Evan looking at him. 

“I can stay with Zoe tonight,” Connor offers quietly. 

“She should come home with us,” their dad says immediately. 

“What? No,” Zoe says. “No. I want to stay with Connor.”

Everyone looks at her strangely. 

“I just want to go home,” Zoe amends. “If you don’t mind staying, Connor?”

“Well, now I know something isn’t right,” their dad mutters to their mom. 

Connor’s shoulders collapse in further. 

Zoe feels anger light inside of her. “God, do you ever lay off of him?” She says. “Just. Jesus. He’s an adult. Can’t you leave him be?”

Connor looks at her in shock. “I can stay with you tonight,” he says. He looks over at Evan. 

Evan nods. “Yeah, we can both stay.”

Their parents seem to relax then. “Okay. You’ll call us if anything changes?”

“Of course,” Evan says. 

He goes to get Zoe signed out with her parents, leaving Zoe and Connor by themselves. “What was that about?” She asks. 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Same old. They don’t trust me.” He rubs his nose. “Normally you don’t either.”

“I’m fine,” Zoe says. “You don’t even really need to do anything.”

“Oh,” Connor says hollowly. “Yeah. Of course.”

“No I mean like… they’re overreacting,” Zoe says. “You’ve. I mean, you got me here didn’t you?”

Connor gives her a small smile. Unexpectedly he throws an arm around her. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” he says. “But it’s nice that you’ve still got my back.”

Zoe nods. 

Evan drives them back to Zoe’s apartment. He’s still a very nervous driver. Clutching the wheel like any moment it might jerk violently in the wrong direction. 

He’s quiet. 

So is Connor. 

Zoe wants to fill the silence but all she has to offer are questions. 

Have Evan and Connor been together since high school? How did that happen? 

Why don’t their parents seem to trust Connor? Why do they trust Evan? 

Why the fuck is she a lawyer? Zoe knows nothing about the law. 

They get her back to her apartment and Zoe says she wants to change out of the clothes she’s wearing. 

Naturally she walks into the wrong room first, so Connor jumps in and leads her into a bedroom. Finds her some pajamas to change into. 

She catches sight of herself for the first time. 

Her hair is really short. A sensible pixie cut. She pulls off the blazer she’s wearing. 

And finds a tattoo on her forearm she’s never seen before. A minimalist design of a tin can on a string. 

Connor catches her looking at it. 

“Oh. Yeah. Um.” 

Connor rolls up his own sleeve. Holds out his arm. He has one that matches. 

“We um. For your eighteenth birthday?” He says hopefully. 

“But blood makes you pass out,” Zoe says quietly. 

Connor smiles a little crookedly.  “I just didn’t look,” he says. 

Zoe feels oddly touched. 

“God this is weird, because it was your idea,” Connor says, shaking his head a little. Zoe blinks. “Because when I was in the psych ward? Senior year? And we’d talk on the phone all the time?”

Zoe gives him a slight smile. “Yeah.”

“Yeah I fucking… called you every day,” Connor says, like he’s embarrassed. “Mom and dad were pissed because the hospital charged for phone calls.”

Zoe nods. 

Connor tugs at his sleeve. “Hey uh. Maybe you don’t remember but… how’d you know?” 

Zoe stares at him. 

“How’d you know what the pills were for?” Connor amends. “I’ve never been able to… like. I was high all the time back then. What made you think…?”

Zoe sighs. “I just. I knew you weren’t good.”

Connor nods. Pushes a hand through his hair. “Guess that makes sense. You did walk in on me falling on my ass trying to hang myself.”

Zoe’s heart drops. “What?”

“The night when I totaled that lamp?” Connor says. “I thought for sure that you’d figured it out.”

Zoe hadn’t. She’d… 

That just happened. 

He was trying to…?

Connor shrugs. “You should change.”

“Yeah.”

“Evan’s ordering Chinese,” he says. 

“Okay. Can he get me-?”

“Sesame chicken, yeah,” Connor says with a grin. 

Zoe grins back. 

She changes. 

So maybe it’s not perfect. Connor’s not… perfect. And she can’t remember anything from the last decade and a half. 

But he’s alive. He’s here. 

And that’s everything.


Zoe feels exhausted. Everything is so different. So damn different. Her brain can’t hold it all. She feels like a soggy sponge. Like she needs to be wrung out. 

Connor offers to run downstairs to grab their Chinese food and something about it makes Evan frown. 

“What’s going on?” Zoe asks. 

Evan shakes his head. “Nothing. Not really. How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” Zoe says. “What’s so wrong about getting the food?”

Evan sighs. “It’s not getting the food,” Evan says. “It’s that he doesn’t want to be in the room with me.”

“Oh,” Zoe says. 

She considers for a moment. “Are you guys okay?”

Evan blows out a breath. “Fuck if I know,” he says. “Sometimes we’re great. Other times, it’s like… I don’t even know who he is.”

Zoe nods. Swallows hard. 

“He relapsed again,” Evan says in this maddeningly even voice. “He tried to lie about it and then refused to go to rehab, even though your parents offered to pay. Again.” Evan rubs the bridge of his nose. “So they cut him off and told him to get a real job. That’s why they’re not speaking.”

“Is he still…?” Zoe asks. 

Evan gives her a grimace. “I don’t think so. But I can never be sure until he starts acting like an asshole.”

“And he got into a fight last night,” Zoe surmises. 

“Yeah,” Evan says. 

“So why stay?” Zoe asks. Even though truly it’s not her business.

Evan gives her a brittle smile. “Because I love him. And I love you guys. Your family… your parents basically adopted me senior year of high school.” He frowns. “It’s not just him I’d lose. It would be my whole family.”

That makes Zoe’s heart squeeze painfully. He sees them as his family. 

“What about your mom?” 

Evan lets out this dry, paper thin laugh. “Honestly? She’d be thrilled if we split.” 

Zoe is surprised to hear that. 

“She thinks Connor’s a bad influence,” Evan says quietly. “Like I’m… a teenager still. It’s bullshit.” He shrugs his shoulders. “She never got okay with me spending so much time with you guys. That there were things your folks could give me that she just… couldn’t.”

Zoe feels really hollow to hear that. 

“Alright, we ordered way too much food,” Connor announces as he walks back in the door. 

“We always do,” Evan says in this overly bright voice. 

Connor seems to clock it immediately. He narrows his eyes. “You guys were talking about me.”

“No,” Evan says too quickly. 

Zoe jumps in. “Not really. I was just asking about what the deal with mom and dad is. Because my memory is broken.”

Connor’s sharp posture seems to loosen a little. “Alright.”

“We were. Really,” Evan says.

Connor nods. He still seems uneasy.

They all eat Chinese food in front of the television. They’re watching some nature documentary that Evan picks out. Connor steals bites of Zoe’s food and she steals bites of his. It feels… natural. Normal. 

Zoe thinks she might get used to this. 

She thinks she never even realized this was what wished she had.

The night brings Zoe nightmares. Horrible nightmares. Nightmares of Connor alone in a park, choking on pills. 

She wakes up in a panic and is relieved to discover she’s still in that unfamiliar bedroom. That she still has a tattoo of a can on a string on her arm. 

Her phone rings again from the same unknown number that called her before. Zoe ignores the call. She couldn’t hold a real conversation with whoever it was anyway. 

Zoe scrambles into the living room. Nobody is there. She pushes open the door to the spare room and lets out a relieved sigh. Connor and Evan are curled up together in the bed, Evan’s face pressed to Connor’s shoulder and Connor’s arms and legs wrapped around Evan like vines. Like a boa constrictor. They’re both fast asleep. Alive. 

Zoe nods. Swallows. 

Decides she needs to figure out what her life here is like. 

She searches her room, hoping to find a diary or something that will explain. She’s not hopeful. She’s never been much of a journal person. Which is a shame because Zoe could really use some help figuring out what the fuck this version of her life is like. How all the pieces fit together. 

Zoe has no luck finding a diary, but she does manage to unearth a photo album. A physical, printed, old school photo album. 

There are familiar childhood photos of birthdays and Christmases and picnics at the orchard. But there are also new photos Zoe’s never seen before. Evan and Connor in caps and gowns, wearing matching grimaces in their graduation photo. Zoe and Connor on her high school graduation day, both of them rolling their eyes slightly at one another. A picture of Connor’s twenty-first birthday, his eyes huge and clearly surprised, with Evan’s arm thrown over his shoulder. There’s a picture of all of them, Zoe and Connor and Evan, with their parents, all big smiles, under a banner celebrating Cynthia and Larry’s 25th wedding anniversary, and a second photo of the five of them all wearing smears of cake and frosting across their faces. 

It’s a lot. To see all of the things Zoe missed in the other version of her life. To see all of the stuff that could never have been without her brother there, with her parents so heartbroken and lost. 

“Pictures. Shit. That’s a good idea. Didn’t think of that,” Connor says, startling Zoe. There’s just something unshakably startling about him being there . Being present and real and tangible.

Zoe shrugs. “Not doing a lot for me,” she admits. 

Connor gives her a sympathetic smile. He sits down beside her and Zoe spots a hickey low on his neck, peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

“So just so I’m understanding… I can’t remember the last time I got laid, full stop, while you’re getting busy in my apartment?” Zoe jokes. 

Connor’s ears go a little red. “Shut up.”

She can’t help the words that come out of her mouth next. They’re unplanned. An accident, really. “Does he make you happy?” 

Connor frowns. Shrugs. “He makes me… less miserable. Is that the same thing?”

Zoe swallows a bit uncomfortably. “I’m not sure it is.”

Connor tries to smile. “I mean. I’m basically always miserable. So. Anything that means I’m less miserable…”

Zoe reaches out and gives Connor’s hand a squeeze. He looks up at her, surprised. 

“Sorry. Are we not hand squeeze types?”

Connor almost smiles. “We’re more like, get drunk, call each other assholes, get in a dumb argument about fuck knows what, and then start crying because we love each other types.” 

Zoe nods. “Legit.”

Connor actually smiles then. “Fuck, I don’t even know how to help here.”

Zoe shrugs. “Just being here helps.”

Connor nods. “I’m just glad mom and dad didn’t start pushing me to call Nick,” Connor says. “They’re still trying to get that ship to sail.”

“Nick… Nick Schultz?” Zoe asks. 

Connor frowns and then nods. “Yeah you two were pretty hot and heavy for a bit there.” He tugs at a bit of his hair. “But then he, y’know, proposed and you said no.”

Zoe stares. “I did?”

“Yeah,” Connor says. “I mean. It was kind of badass. It was a dick move of him to propose to you in public.”

Zoe shudders. “Ugh. No thank you.”

Connor gives her a sort of pained look. 

“What?”

He tugs at the roots of his hair again. “You said no because he didn’t like me. Didn’t like me hanging around all the time, crashing on your couch when things got shitty…” 

Zoe swallows painfully. “Oh.” 

“Maybe if you’d said yes -”

“No,” Zoe says immediately. “Anybody who can’t trust me on my own decisions on how I conduct my life doesn’t belong in it.” 

Connor frowns a little. “I know I’ve fucked a lot of shit up for you-” 

“Stop,” Zoe says immediately. “No. Okay? No.”

“You don’t even remember it,” Connor replies, frowning deeper. “You genuinely don’t even know how much -”

“I don’t care,” Zoe says firmly. “I don’t. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t .”

Connor sighs. Pushes a hand through his hair. “It should. It… it really should.” 

Zoe doesn’t like the look in his eyes. The sadness that seems to be pulling his shoulders down like a heavy weight. “Connor -”

“You’re out of coffee.”

Both of them jump. Evan’s standing there with an empty coffee can and a frown. 

“Oh. Shit, sorry, I had no idea,” Zoe mumbles.

Evan frowns. “I can run to the cafe next door,” He says. 

Connor immediately stands. Goes into his wallet and gives Evan a little bit of cash. 

“You guys don’t have to -”

Connor shrugs. “Thanks,” he says to Evan. 

“No problem,” Evan says, hurrying quickly out of the apartment. 

Connor sucks in a nervous breath, sharp and audible and sad. Zoe looks his way, unsure what’s going on. “I think he’s going to leave,” Connor says, his voice high with anxiety. With obvious fear. “I think he’s going to finally leave me and…” 

Zoe bites her lip. “Connor-”

“If he goes… I’m…” Connor shakes his head, like he’s trying to rid himself of whatever thoughts he is thinking. “Doesn’t matter. We gotta fix your memory, right? So let’s worry about that.”

Connor spends the whole day trying to jog Zoe’s memory, while Evan heads off to work (at a cafe). It’s not successful, though Zoe doesn’t have the heart to tell Connor why none of the photos or places he takes her are triggering anything for her. 

How can she say she’s from a world without him? How can she say he’s not a part of her present? 

She doesn’t really think it’s fair. That she had a whole life that she can’t remember now. But given the choice between the life she can’t remember or the life she had before…

Zoe would pick this one. Zoe picks this one. 

Connor takes a lot of time to try to trigger her memory. He takes her out and drives her around the city. Pointing out places he hopes will be familiar. 

“Do you remember how we all got drunk on Halloween two years ago?” Connor says, and there’s a certain earnest desperation in his eyes. “You dressed up like Ally McBeal? And nobody knew who you were so you got all pissed off at Evan for pointing out it was a super old show?”

Zoe smiles. Laughs a little. “What were you that year?”

Connor rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Uh. Evan and I were Bert and Ernie.” 

That’s fucking adorable. “I love it.” She nudges Connor. “Which one were you?”

“Definitely Bert. Come on man,” Connor says with a laugh. 

Zoe laughs. “That seems right.”

Connor pulls a face. 

“What?” Zoe says. 

Connor’s shoulders hunch in a bit. “I just… it kind of sucks that you don’t remember.” He tugs at a piece of his hair. “I think I was less of an asshole then.”

Zoe frowns. “I don’t think you’re an asshole,” she says. 

“That’s because you don’t remember shit,” Connor shakes, knocking on her skull playfully. 

“What makes you think you’re an asshole?” Zoe asks genuinely. 

Connor’s shoulders hunch in more. Like he’s trying to shrink, like he’s afraid he’s taking up too much space. His lips pulls down in a frown. “I just am. I just can’t… make people happy.”

Zoe wishes she knew what the hell she could say. How she can be reassuring or kind in this moment. 

But she can’t think of anything. 

“Whatever. Nevermind. Here, does this bring back anything?” He shows her a picture of Zoe giving a thumbs up to the camera as she gamely lets someone take a pair of scissors to her long hair. “When you donated your hair?”

Zoe shakes her head. 

There’s hundreds of photos, pulled from various social media platforms. Connor takes Zoe to a cafe that boasts killer coffee and lousy service that has great sandwiches. Apparently this is where they come for lunch once a week. The staff all seem to know Connor tangentially from one thing or another - someone worked at the bar with him, someone went to rehab with him, someone designed a tattoo on Connor’s upper arm. 

It’s wild. 

He doesn’t exactly seem to be friends with these people. But Connor knows people. Talks to them. They know him. He knows people. He talks to people. 

“Anybody seem familiar?” Connor asks, his mouth pulling into an anxious frown, his shoulders rounded in. 

Zoe wants to lie to comfort him, but she doesn’t know if she could keep track of any lies she told. “Connor,” she says, reaching across the table to bump his fingers with hers. “You know you don’t have to, like, single handedly fix me right?” 

Connor wrinkles his nose. “I’m not-”

Zoe gives him a look. 

Connor looks down at the table. He shrugs a little helplessly. “I just… I kind of owe you.”

“No,” Zoe says immediately. 

“No, seriously, I do,” Connor says. “You’ve saved my ass so many times I’ve lost count. If not for you I’d probably be in jail or something.”

Zoe doesn’t know what to say. 

When the day-long outing doesn’t seem to be helping Zoe’s memory, Connor takes Zoe to their parents’ house at their insistence. He seems defeated and frustrated. “I don’t want to leave you at home.”

“It’s okay,” Zoe says. “Really.”

“It’s not,” he mutters. “I’m fucking this up.” 

“This isn’t your job,” Zoe tells him at least ten times. “You’re helping, trust me. It’ll be okay.”

But it doesn’t seem to get through to him. Zoe can practically see the pane of glass that is separating them, and Zoe hates it. She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Connor. Really. Come on. It’s okay.”

He gives her a kind of false smile.

“I need to get to work,” he says. “So I can’t stay for dinner. Try not to kill mom and dad, okay?”

Zoe nods. “I can do that.”

Connor gives Zoe a long look as she climbs out of the car. “I really am sorry.”

“You really don’t have to be,” Zoe insists. “You didn’t fuck anything up, okay?”

Connor gives her a half smile. “If you say so.”

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Summary:

Zoe struggles to understand her family in this new world.

Notes:

Please note that this chapter contains:
-Major character death
-A scene featuring a drug overdose
-Discussion of suicide

Please take care of yourselves as you read.

Chapter Text

Her parents’ house looks surprisingly different when Zoe steps inside. It’s been redecorated. The kitchen has been remodeled. Zoe wonders when it happened and why. 

Her mom smiles anxiously at Zoe when she walks inside. “How are you feeling?”

Zoe sighs. “I’m fine. Honestly. I just can’t seem to remember anything.”

“And your brother… he’s been…?” Her mom frowns. 

Zoe frowns. “Connor has been fine. He’s been really helpful, actually.”

“I just know… he can be challenging. To be around,” her mom says. 

Zoe gives her a dirty look. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Her mom rubs her eyes like she’s exhausted. “I’m sorry,” she says distantly. “It’s just… it’s been hard to handle him over the last few years.”

“I don’t know why you all talk about him like that,” Zoe says, disgusted. She can’t believe her mom is acting like this. Her mom has always been Connor’s great defender. She’s always been the one who saw the best in him. Fought for him. She’d fight with anyone who ever said a word against him. 

Only here she seems… disgusted by him.

Her mom shakes her head. “Connor is… he’s very troubled sweetheart. And he and Evan have been having problems for a while now, and it’s pretty clear that he’s not putting the work in to make things work. We just…your father and I worry you’re just going to be disappointed by Connor again.”

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about him?” Zoe says. “If he’s having a hard time?”

Her mom frowns deeply. “You have always been so kind,” she says. “I know how much you love your brother. But I think it’s high time we all accept that your brother…he’s. Just. Struggling and unwilling to do anything to make things easier on himself. And unless he decides to be better, hes never going to get any better.”

Zoe feels like she’s been punched. Her heart hurts.  “How can you say that?”

“Because I can remember the past ten years,” her mom says, her voice a little shrill. “Because I know how many nights you’ve called me up crying because he’s said something awful or done something to hurt you.”

Zoe stares at her. “He’s… he’s clearly got some mental health stuff.”

Her mom sighs. “I know that. And he knows that. But he’s never been interested in actually getting help. And try as we might, we can’t make Connor get the help that he needs.”

Zoe can’t find anything to say. 

Because her mom does have a point. She doesn’t know. 

But it feels wildly unfair for her mother to just… quit. Give up on her brother. 

Zoe really fucking hates it. 

She wants to shake this woman wearing her mother’s face and tell her to be grateful. Be grateful she has a son to be disappointed in. Be grateful she’s not a dead eyed, weak smiled woman haunting a big lonely house in a dead child’s clothes, a ghost before her heart even stopped. 

Zoe pulls out her phone, sending a text to Connor. Mom is really in fine form today. 

She doesn’t get a response, but Zoe knows he’s working. She tries not to worry about it, but something about it nags at the back of her mind.

Her father is on time for dinner. So is Evan, strangely. 

At Zoe’s raised eyebrows, Evan frowns at her. “Connor said…”

Zoe nods. 

Her dad tries to grill her about her non-existent memory. Demands to know things Zoe couldn’t even imagine guessing the answers to. Where she went to law school. What she specializes in. Who she works for. 

It grates. “Stop,” she snaps. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.

“Connor spent the whole day trying,” Evan pipes up, smoothing over the tension, dousing the flickering embers of frustration. “And I’ve been… I’ve done some research. It’s not super common, but sudden memory loss can happen sometimes. Often it’s caused by trauma.”

It’s eerily familiar, Evan at the Murphy dinner table in Connor’s absence, covering up the gaps like carefully placed caulk and painting over them with ease.. It twists Zoe’s stomach in knots so tight she can’t choke down the chicken her mother cooked. 

“Did something happen sweetheart?” Her mom asks, her eyes big and worried. 

“Well I wouldn’t know, would I?” Zoe mutters. 

She moves a carrot around her plate restlessly. 

Evan volunteers another fact he googled about memory loss and Zoe wants to kick him under the table. Wants to snap at him to stop kissing up to her fucking parents. Wants to scream that they are her parents, they are Connor’s parents. They don’t belong to Evan. 

“Zoe?” Her mom says. “I made your favorite? Is it… is it not okay?”

The words send ribbons of panic spreading through Zoe’s limbs, her mind flashing to that last dinner with Connor. The last time she saw him alive. 

She closes her eyes against it. It’s not true anymore. She unmade it. Zoe fixed it. She undid the damage. 

Her phone begins to vibrate at the table, almost violent. That same damn unknown number. Zoe wants to hurl it out the window. 

“No phones at the dinner table,” Her dad says absently. 

“For fuck’s sake, I’m thirty years old,” Zoe snaps. “Don’t speak to me like I’m a child.”

Her dad looks shocked. “Zoe. You can’t remember the last ten years.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten I’m an adult,” she says. 

Her dad frowns deeply. “I don’t think it’s wise that you’ve been spending so much time with your brother while you’re fragile like this.”

Zoe laughs. “What is your problem with Connor?” She shrieks. “Both of you! You’re behaving like monsters! Don’t you realize how close we came to losing him?”

Her dad’s face hardens. “More than you do, I’m afraid,” he says coolly. “We’ve tried everything. He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t want our help.”

Zoe turns to Evan. He’s staring down at his plate, eyes fixated on a carrot he’s struggling to spear with his fork tines. 

“You just let them talk that way about him in front of you?” Zoe demands. 

Evan’s shoulders collapse inward. He puts his fork down. “They have a point,” he says quietly. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Zoe says. 

“I’ve tried my hardest,” Evan says quietly. “But he doesn’t… he won’t let anyone get close enough to help. You don’t know. You’re not the one who has been stuck sticking your fingers down his throat to get him to throw up the pills he’s taken. You’re not the one who’s had to drag him out of bed after days and days. You don’t… it’s hard, fighting to keep him here when he doesn’t want to be.”

Zoe stands up so suddenly that it sends her glass of water sloshing over the table and the clean linens. “What is wrong with you? All of you! Sitting here, resigned and angry and bitter, like you have any right. He’s obviously struggling! Do something!”

Everyone stares. 

“Fucking do something!” Zoe shouts. 

Evan fixes her with a hard look. One she can’t read. “Zoe. We’ve tried,” he says harshly. “But right now, you’re the one… you can’t remember anything. Any of the bad stuff. Don’t you think that says something?”

Zoe’s heart speeds up. “What are you saying?”

Her parents look at Evan, confusion in their eyes. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Evan says, his eyes flashing. “ You’re the one struggling. You’re so traumatized that you can’t remember the times he’s hurt you. Threatened you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he relapses again and suddenly you can’t remember a damn thing.”

Zoe looks between Evan and her parents. 

“He’s the reason,” Evan tells her firmly. “He’s the-”

“Shut up!” Zoe snaps. “No he isn’t! You just want to blame him for everything!”

“He’s the reason you and Nick didn’t work out! He’s the reason you had to move back here after law school, because you wanted to keep an eye on him. He’s the one-”

“SHUT UP!” Zoe thunders. 

Her voice reverberates off of the walls. 

“You don’t get to say a damn thing, Evan,” Zoe shouts. “Which one of us is inserting ourselves into someone else’s family because they haven’t got anyone else?”

Evan’s face drains of all color. 

“Evan, sweetheart, that’s not true,” Her mom jumps to say. 

“Yes it is,” Zoe says venomously. “He’s a pathetic lonely loser who is using Connor as an excuse to be part of this family when he doesn’t belong here. He’s got his own family but he’s hurt them all so much they don’t want him anymore. Sounds awfully familiar, don’t you think?”

Evan gets up quickly. 

“Evan, she doesn’t know what she’s saying,” her mom tries to say, trying to sooth and fix. 

But he leaves the house without another word. 

Her dad stares at her like Zoe is a stranger. Her mom’s eyes fill with tears. 

“I think you should go get some rest,” Her mom says in this brittle voice. 

Zoe heads upstairs without another word. She slams the door of her childhood bedroom. Locks it. 

Her phone rings from the unknown number again and she turns it off. 

Zoe is shaking with rage. 

Why don’t any of them realize how callous and cruel they are being? Why can’t any of them see that Connor is worth trying to help?

What is wrong with them? 

Zoe falls into a fitful sleep. 

She has dreams of her brother dressed as Bert from Sesame Street. Dreams of Nick and Drew and their identical faces of betrayal the Christmas morning that Mrs. Schultz found her and Drew in bed together. She dreams about Violet and Alana Beck and Malik, the three of them wasting away into nothing. 

She wakes up to the sound of a blood curdling scream. 

Zoe springs from her bed. Rushes down the stairs. Her mom is bent in half, somehow screaming and sobbing all at once. 

She’s seen this before. 

When she came home to discover her brother was dead. 

“What happened?” Zoe demands. “What’s going on?”

Her mom doesn’t move. Her dad is there a moment later, his eyes sleepy and in a sloppy big t-shirt and sweats. 

He stoops. Takes her phone from the place she dropped it on the floor. 

“Hello?”

His brow furrows. 

“Connor, slow down.”

Her dad’s face drains of color. “Oh god,” he says. “Oh god. And they’re sure it’s-?”

Her dad’s face crumples like a ball of paper in a clenched fist. The phone slips from his hand. 

Zoe grabs it. “Connor?”

She can hear him breathing, ragged and pained. “Zo… Zo he’s dead.”

Zoe doesn’t follow. “What?”

“Evan, he’s… he wrapped his car around a telephone pole, he’s… Evan died.”


 

Zoe exists in a haze. Everything blurs to white. She can’t stop shaking. The world moves too fast and too slow. There’s a phone ringing off the hook in her brain somehow. There’s all this fear and all this relief and all of this guilt that seems to rise and fall in her with each rattling breath. 

And the whole time all she can think is Thank God it’s not Connor.

Thank god it’s not Connor. 

There are car rides and phone calls and unknown numbers. Connor is startlingly present and real in his grief. He’s real. Solid. Not a ghost. But he looks like one. She swears his feet hover above the ground. 

He’s in shock, Zoe thinks when she finally reaches through the fog to find him. To squeeze his hand. 

He’s in shock. 

He’s still alive. Startlingly, horribly alive for this. 

“It’s a mistake,” he whispers to Zoe. “It’s a mistake.”

She shakes her head and wipes her eyes and tells him it’s not. Because it’s not. Evan died in a car accident. He wrapped his car around a pole. Died instantly on impact. 

Nobody knows how it happened. If he was swerving to avoid something. 

Or if he swerved on purpose. 

Heidi Hansen is startlingly real in her grief too. She holds herself at a distance in the medical examiner’s office when she and Connor go to identify the body. She flinches away from the way Connor reaches for her. She shakes her head when Zoe’s parents try to offer comfort. She insists on staying with Evan until someone from her synagogue arrives. She won’t leave the room until this strange man arrives. 

Zoe feels like an interloper. An intruder on this pain. She doesn’t deserve to feel it as acutely and accurately as she does. 

Evan is dead. 

He died in a car accident. It might not have been an accident. The police can’t be sure how it happened. It was raining, but not hard. It was dark, but not that dark. 

Thank god it wasn’t Connor. 

It’s not Connor. 

Heidi’s voice doesn’t shake when she and Connor return. She just says, in this tired and broken way, “It’s him. I called someone from the synagogue…”

And then she sits in an uncomfortable hard plastic chair and puts her head in her hands. 

“Heidi…” Connor tries after a few moments pass in heavy silence. 

“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t you dare.

It breaks whatever shred of composure that Connor was clinging to. His knees buckle and he collapses like a demolished building. Zoe rushes to his side. Wraps him in her arms, shushing him gently, rubbing his arm and then his back. 

“I’m so sorry,” Connor hiccups. “I’m so…”

“Connor, it’s not your fault,” Zoe tells him. 

He shakes his head, his grief too raw and real. He can’t seem to draw breath evenly. Nobody else moves to help him. Nobody else says a word for a long time. 

Zoe hates them all. 

She hates them in this specific and awful way because they don’t move to help Connor. They let him twist in the wind of his pain. They let him blame himself. Nobody tries to stop it. Zoe feels like she’s trying to plug holes in a sinking boat while everyone else watches and blames the ship for being full of holes. 

Her parents say nothing for a long time. Her mom is dead behind the eyes. Her dad is a brick wall, his expression impenetrable. “Will there… do you… a funeral?” He finally manages. “We can help. Evan’s… he’s family.”

Heidi’s face is stone. “No, thank you,” she says coldly. 

“Heidi, please,” her mom begs, her voice choked and wet. 

“My son just died,” she says coldly. “And I do not need your help with his funeral.”

She collects her purse and leaves. 

Her parents stare at each other. Their expressions are familiar. They think their son died too. Zoe wants to slap them both. 

Somehow Zoe is in the backseat of her parents’ car with Connor. 

Somehow night passes, her brother pressed close to her side. His eyes are dry and there’s something broken lurking behind the muddy brown spot in them. 

Zoe is wracked with guilt. 

Thank god it’s not Connor. 

He won’t eat. Barely speaks. Only moves if Zoe prompts him. He hardly seems to remember to breath. “It’s not real,” he whispers. 

“It is,” Zoe says gently. 

“I don’t want it to be real.”

Thank god it’s not Connor. 

Her brother disappears into himself. Disappears to a place Zoe can’t follow as the day turns to night and their parents explain that the service will be small. 

It’s quick. Within a day. 

The synagogue handles many of the arrangements. They find him a pine box and a plot. 

Heidi won’t meet any of their eyes in the temple. Connor’s kippah keeps threatening to escape until Zoe pins it to his unwashed hair in the back hallway 

Zoe asks him where it came from. 

“I’ve had it,” he answers distantly. “For holidays. We did Yom Kippur with Heidi the last few years.”

Zoe doesn’t know what to do with the swooping sadness inside of her. She holds her brother’s hand and thinks thank god it wasn’t Connor. 

“They didn’t leave him alone,” Connor says weakly to Zoe once the box is in the ground. 

She looks at him, lost. 

“It’s tradition,” he explains. “Someone stays with the dead person until the funeral.”

He’s wearing that striped tie purchased years ago for a bar mitzvah he nearly didn’t attend. It’s been cut roughly, in the middle, and hangs limply from Connor’s thin neck. 

Thank god it wasn’t Connor. 

Zoe has never sat shiva before, but she dutifully helps to cover all of the mirrors in the Hansen house. She’s the only one brave enough to cover the mirror in Evan’s childhood bedroom. 

She lost her virginity in this room in another life. 

There’s no other family to host the shiva. 

Zoe meets a sickly man with a weak handshake who says he’s Evan’s father. Heidi regards him coldly the whole time. 

Connor is lost. Zoe watches him float through the day in a daze. His feet don’t seem to touch the ground. She wonders if he’s high. 

“I gave him a Xanax,” her mom tells her in ther brittle broken voice. 

“Is that wise?” Her dad asks. 

“I couldn’t have him breaking down in front of all of these people,” Her mom says shortly. “Making a fool of himself in front of Evan’s family.”

“Connor is his family,” Zoe whispers but nobody seems to hear. 

He’s allowed to break down. 

He’s allowed to make a fool of himself in his grief. 

In another life, Zoe nearly threw herself into her brother’s grave because she couldn’t fathom the idea of him going somewhere she couldn’t follow. She took shaky steps toward the hole in the ground and cried before she was yanked away. 

Her father shook her violently and told her to keep it together. 

Connor does not dive into the grave. He does not break down. He doesn’t say much at all. 

He is quiet and bent in, all sharp angles and broken eyes. She once saw a construction crane that collapsed into a twisted broken heap. Connor looks like that to her. His steel bent and crumpled. 

She decides to stay with him that night. At his home with Evan. 

Her parents insist she’s not well enough. Insist Connor ought to come home. 

He tells them that his apartment with Evan is home and Zoe goes with him. He drives them to the apartment on a suspended license. Zoe never did find her car. 

“Do you want me to cover the mirrors?” Zoe asks Connor when they arrive. 

He shakes his head and sits on the sofa. 

The apartment is cramped. Full of books. There’s nothing but a thin curtain separating the bedroom from the rest of the apartment. 

“Why isn’t there a door?” She asks. 

Connor stares at her dully. “He didn’t want me to be able to lock myself behind a door,” he says after a long time. “In case I… tried to hurt myself.”

Zoe searches the apartment for pills and sharps while Connor stares into space. 

She prompts him to go and lie down. 

She hides her spoils and thinks thank god it wasn’t Connor. 

Time moves in lazy, slow circles. A revolving door of sadness and pain. The evening takes a decade, she swears. 

When Connor decides to sleep, Zoe refuses the sofa. She changes into a pair of Connor’s ratty old sweats and an oversized hoodie and crawls into the double bed beside her brother. She takes his hand. 

He turns to her with a broken expression. “I thought we were… we were supposed to save each other. Find each other and save each other.”

Zoe swallows hard. 

“Do you know how he broke his arm? In high school?”

“He climbed a tree,” Zoe says. 

“And then he let go,” Connor says. “He did it on purpose.”

Zoe swallows hard. She knows. She didn’t know if Connor knew. 

“We had a fight,” Zoe confesses. “That night. I yelled at him and-”

Connor shakes his head. “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“But-”

“I don’t want to know,” Connor says sharply. 

“I’m so sorry,” Zoe whispers, a tear dripping over the bridge of her nose. 

“I wanted to be better for him,” Connor whispers. “But I could never get it right.”

“He knows how hard you tried,” Zoe says. Lies. She’s not sure why. 

Connor rejects her cold comfort. “I left him alone,” he says. 

“No.”

“He died hating me.”

“No. No, Connor. He loved you,” Zoe insists. “You loved each other.”

Connor shakes his head. “He stopped loving me a long time ago.”

Zoe gives him another Xanax from the stockpile she hid. 

Instructs her brother to sleep. 

She feels like she has a low battery. She’s lost and exhausted. Connor seems to be the same. 

“Sleep,” she tells him. 

Connor closes his eyes. 

Thank god it’s not Connor. 

Zoe closes her eyes. 

“I love you Connor,” she tells him. 

“Love you too,” he says quietly. 

Sleep takes her. 


Her phone wakes her up. It’s way too early. 

That same unknown number as all of the other times. It rings and rings and rings endlessly. 

Zoe declines the call and blocks the number. 

“Sorry,” she says to Connor, asleep next to her. “I keep getting this spam call.”

He says nothing. 

She thinks he must still be out. 

She’s about to roll over and close her eyes again, when the scent of vomit catches in her nostrils. 

“Connor?” Zoe says shakily. 

There’s vomit on the pillow beside his head. 

“Did you get sick?”

She reaches out and touches his hand. It’s cold to the touch. 

“Connor?”

No response. 

“Connor,” she says more insistently. She shakes his shoulder. 

His head lolls ominously. 

“Connor!” She shouts, shaking him harder. 

He’s unresponsive. There’s vomit on his pillow. 

In his hand she sees a piece of paper. 

Dear Evan Hansen

“No,” Zoe screams. She screams and shakes him. He’s cold. He’s unresponsive. There is no pulse ticking under her fingers as she presses them to his neck. 

“No no no,” she whispers, shaking him harder. 

Dear Evan Hansen stares up at her. 

“Connor no,” she cries, her eyes flooding. “No. No, not this time,” she cries. She calls 911. 

He doesn’t move. His chest doesn’t rise and fall with breath. He’s cold to the touch. There’s vomit on his pillow. 

“No. No. Not again. You can’t die on me again. You can’t die. Connor. Connor.”

The paramedics arrive. 

They attempt CPR. They shine lights in his eyes. They take his pulse and search for a heartbeat that they won’t find. 

“I’m so sorry,” one of them says softly. 

Zoe screams. Presses her hands to her ears. No. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again she can’t have lost him again she was right there she was right there

The paramedic tries to talk to her but Zoe can’t hear can’t see she’s screaming and screaming and the walls shake and the floor buckles and she runs out of the door of the apartment and into Dr. Sherman’s office. 

Dr. Sherman is sitting behind her desk, rubbing her eyes. She looks exhausted and.. sad. 

“What did you do?” Zoe demands. 

Dr. Sherman gives her a pale, broken smile. “Zoe, I am so sorry.”

“What did you do?” Zoe repeats.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Summary:

You can't love someone back to life.

Chapter Text

Dr. Sherman shakes her head. “I am so genuinely sorry. I was cruel to you before. I should have explained that this was a possibility. I should have… I was unkind. I should have provided an explanation.”

“Why did you do this?” Zoe asks helplessly. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Dr. Sherman says softly. “I… can’t play god, Zoe. None of us can. The universe corrected what you did.”

“You killed him!” Zoe sobs. “You killed my brother. He was alive and you murdered him!” 

“We can’t play god,” Dr. Sherman says firmly. “Connor decided to die. He was always going to decide to die. I’m so sorry.”

“No! He didn’t have to die!”

“But he did,” Dr. Sherman says. “Connor died. Either he dies here or he dies at seventeen. He always dies, Zoe. There’s no undoing that. The universe won’t allow you to save him, to take that decision away from him. It changes too much.”

“I don’t want him to be dead,” she cries. “Send me back. Let me fix it. Please let me fix it.”

Dr. Sherman shakes her head. “You can’t. You can’t fix this.”

“Please,” she begs. “Please don’t let him die. Take me instead. Please.”

“That’s not how this works,” Dr. Sherman cries. She sounds so frustrated. “You’re not understanding, Zoe. He chose to die. He chose the way his life will end. You can’t love someone back to life. You just can’t.”

Zoe shakes her head. “Please. Please. He deserves better…”

“This isn’t about deserving. It’s about choice. Connor made his and you can’t undo that no matter how much you wish you could.” Dr. Sherman wipes her eyes. “I am truly so sorry for the pain you’re experiencing.”

“Please,” Zoe begs. 

“There’s nothing I can do. I am truly sorry, but there are rules. I can’t bend them or break them for everyone who is grieving. I’m not allowed. I can’t save Connor anymore than you can.”

“No. Fuck you! You’re full of shit. You can fix this. You can!” Zoe shouts. “You can fucking time travel. You could make this better you just won’t!”

Dr. Sherman blinks at her passively. 

Zoe picks the lamp off of Dr. Sherman’s desk and hurls it across the room. It shatters against the wall. The lightbulb sparks. 

Zoe can’t stop. If she stops then it’s real. She grabs a glass award from the desk and smashes it on the floor. She reaches for a notebook on the rest and tears pages out of it haphazardly. She screams and wails. She slams a book against the wall and it leaves a sizable dent. 

“You can do something,” Zoe screams. “You can let me fix things the right way.”

“No. I can’t do that. I’m so sorry but you cannot fix this,” Dr. Sherman says gently. “I am so sorry, Zoe. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.”

Zoe collapses. It pours out of her. The grief. The anger and pain. He’s gone. No matter what she does he’s gone. He’s never okay. They never get to be okay. Because her brother dies. He died. 

“What do I do?” Zoe cries, every part of her screaming in pain. “Tell me what to do.”

“You live with his choice,” Dr. Sherman says. “And make your peace with it.”

“What if I can’t?” Zoe asks desperately. “What if I can’t?”

Dr. Sherman frowns. “That was why you came here in the first place, isn’t it? You couldn’t make peace with what happened. You need to learn to live with this.”

“But I can’t,” Zoe says. “I can’t live with it.”

Dr. Sherman sighs heavily. “You have to learn how. He’s been dead a long time, Zoe. It wasn’t your fault. But you can’t change it.”

“It’s not fair,” Zoe whispers. “It’s not fair. I hate this.”

Dr. Sherman clicks her tongue sympathetically. “I know. I hate it too. I’m so sorry.” She hands Zoe a tissue. 

“What happens now?” Zoe asks. “I can’t… what happens now?”

Dr. Sherman sighs. “Well. You could return to the world you created when you saved Connor. Where he is gone and so is Evan. Or… you could go back. To his last day. And say goodbye. Say goodbye and let him go.”

Zoe cries harder, like the tears are being forced out of her by something bigger than herself. “I don’t think I can… I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

Dr. Sherman looks at her sadly. “I think you are.”

“If I do that… things go back? To how they were?” Zoe asks. 

Dr. Sherman hesitates. “Most likely, yes.” She frowns. “I am truly sorry. I truly am. But there’s nothing else I can do. You can’t save your brother.”

Zoe swallows hard. “But I can say goodbye?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Zoe gets to her feet. Dr. Sherman nods. 

Zoe goes through the door. 

For a strange moment she feels as if she’s being followed but when she looks back there’s nobody there. 

Zoe’s leaving her bedroom. Heading down the stairs. Her feet are wooden and heavy and she feels sick. She realizes that Connor’s right behind her. 

Zoe joins her parents at the table.

“First day of school!” Her mom says with forced enthusiasm. 

Connor is high and he sinks into a chair. “I don’t want to go.” He pours a bowl of cereal and doesn’t look at anyone. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Her mom frowns. “It’s your senior year, Connor. You’re not missing the first day.”

Connor frowns back. 

Her mom’s frustration is obvious when she turns to her dad. “Are you going to get involved here, or are you too busy on your email, Larry?”

Her dad barely manages to not roll his eyes. “You have to go to school Connor.”

Connor does roll his eyes. Very obviously. 

“Is that all you’re going to say?” Her mom sounds exasperated. Zoe watches with morbid fascination as the pieces click into place.

“What do you want me to say? He doesn’t listen,” Her dad says to her mom. “Look at him. He’s not listening. He’s probably high.”

Zoe says nothing. She just looks at Connor. He’s very obviously high. 

“What do you want?” Connor snaps. 

Zoe shrugs. “I thought pot was supposed to mellow you out.”

“Fuck you,” Connor says, anger and hurt competing behind his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” She returns. Her stomach is in knots. 

Her mom pulls anxiously on her ponytail. “I don’t need you picking at your brother right now,” Her mom says to Zoe, sounding frustrated. “That’s not constructive.” 

Zoe sighs. “Right. Sorry.”

Connor stares openly at her. Like he’s forgotten she can see him staring. Like he is surprised. 

Her mom smooths out her hoodie. “Besides, he’s not high.” She looks hopefully at Connor. 

He shrugs and keeps staring at Zoe. 

Her mom looks exasperated. “I don’t want you going to school when you’re high, Connor.”

“Perfect, so then I won’t go,” he says in this sarcastic voice. Like they’ve struck a deal. “Thanks mom.” He gets up from the table. 

Zoe gets up, interrupting her mom trying to clear the table and her dad bitching about the interstate. “We gotta go.”

She knows that Connor is waiting at the door. He’s fidgeting with his clothes, pulling at his sleeves and straightening his shirt and adjusting his bag.

“You’re going?” Zoe says. 

“Guess so,” he mutters. 

“Ready?” She says to him. 

“No,” Connor says. 

Zoe steps out the door. Connor follows a little too closely behind. 

The ride to school is quiet and awkward. Zoe feels like an executioner. She’s playing chauffeur to her brother’s death. This is so fucked. 

“Remember my first day of kindergarten?”

Connor visibly startles. “Not really.”

“We took the bus,” Zoe says. “And I sat next to you because some kid was picking on you the year before.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Oh yeah. Austin Miller. I heard he’s in jail or something now.”

“Shit, for real?”

Connor shrugs. “Yeah. I guess he’s a creep who had like a stash of kiddie porn.”

“What the fuck?”

Connor lets out a small little laugh. “That dude was always pretty fucked up. Stealing food from a kindergartener.” 

“Shit.”

Connor leans his head against the window. “Today’s the last first day of school we’re gonna have together.”

“Yeah,” Zoe says, swallowing hard. 

“Fuck, don’t get all weird about it,” Connor says at the waver in her voice. “Don’t need you turning into mom on me.” 

“I’m not,” Zoe says. “I’m not.

“You’re so full of shit,” Connor accuses, but it’s almost laughing. 

“Yeah.  Sure. Whatever.”

Zoe parks the car in the lot. Connor gets out and says a quick “bye.”

She doesn’t feel any better prepared for what is coming than last time. She feels scared. Like she’s the final girl in a horror movie. Like she’s waiting for the grim reaper to appear around every corner. 

She’s at her locker when she overhears Jared Kleinman’s nasally voice. “Hey Connor,” he says in this jovial tone. “Loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic.”

Connor blinks. His eyes go dull. He says nothing. 

“It was a joke,” Jared says, panic creeping into his voice. 

“No I know,” Connor starts. 

“Don’t you have internet porn to go download, Jared?” Zoe hears herself saying suddenly. 

Jared’s face goes white. Beside him, Evan’s face goes pink. Jared mutters something about them being freaks. 

Evan lets out an awkward half laugh as Connor turns his eyes on him. 

“What’s your problem?” Connor snaps defensively. 

“No, I wasn’t-”

“You think your friend’s funny?” Connor demands. 

“No, I—”

Connor shoves him to the ground and storms off. Zoe watches him go. She can’t change this. She can’t. 

“Are you okay?” She asks Evan. “I’m sorry about my brother… He’s….” She can’t finish. 

Evan looks at her with these wide, amazed eyes. Like he cannot believe she’s speaking to him. Still. It never wavers. 

“You’re Evan, right?” Zoe says. 

“Evan. Yes. Evan,” he says. “Oh. God . Sorry. You said Evan and then I said it and I repeated it, which is just that is so annoying when people do that. Sorry-”

“You don’t have to apologize” Zoe says. “Are you okay?” She offers him a hand up and pulls him to his feet. Evan stares at his hand for a moment and then wipes it on his jeans. “I’m Zoe.”

“Zoe. Right. I know. You’re in jazz band.” He flinches. “Sorry. That’s… fuck, I don’t…”

“Look, I gotta…” Zoe says vaguely, looking down the hall. “My brother’s…”

“It’s my fault,” Evan says. 

Zoe blinks at him. “No. He pushed you. You didn’t do anything.”

“I shouldn’t have laughed. Sorry. It’s like a…?” He says, with an anxious titter bubbling up to confirm the point. “An anxiety thing. Jared was… he’s a dick, sometimes, he shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah. He is.”

“Sorry, I’m not. I don’t wanna defend - it was my fault. I laughed and it’s not… I didn’t think it was funny, just.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Zoe repeats. “It’s okay.”

Evan gives her a nervous smile. He’s clutching a sharpie in his hand.  “Do you want to-”

“I’m sorry, I gotta… nice meeting you Evan,” Zoe says. “Sorry again.”

He seems a bit defeated as she walks away. But she can’t sign his cast. It would change too much. 

Zoe hates this. 

She goes to class. Never sees Connor in the halls. She doesn’t know if he even went to class today. 

The bells ring. The classes start and end. Zoe marches along with the tide of people in the halls. 

Zoe goes to the library. Connor likes the library. 

She finds him hidden in the stacks like last time. “Hey.”

“The fuck do you want?” He asks, flinching. 

“Nice one pushing that kid this morning,” Zoe says conversationally. “I’m sure he was really hoping to break his other arm on the first day back.”

Connor’s eyes widen. “I hurt him?” He says softly. “Fuck.”

Zoe sinks down next to him. “No. He was fine,” she says. “But that was a pretty dick move.”

Connor hangs his head. “He’s in my English class,” Connor says after a moment. “Evan. He just… I think he just. Laughs. I’m an asshole.”

“Sometimes,” Zoe says. She blows out a breath and sits down. “You could apologize.”

Connor snorts. “Yeah. I’m sure he’d love that. Assuming he didn’t run screaming. Didn’t you hear? I look like a fucking school shooter.”

Zoe shrugs. “Evan might appreciate it. If you said something. I think he’s an okay person. I don’t think he’d be a dick about it..”

Connor picks at his nail. “Yeah. Maybe.” He chews on his thumbnail absently. “Shouldn’t you go eat lunch with all your friends?” 

“I’m good here,” Zoe says easily. 

“You’re being really weird,” Connor says. He sounds exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Maybe he hasn’t. He looks exhausted too. 

“Yeah I don’t know… Cat’s really the only person I actually like,” Zoe says then. “The cafeteria is kind of… a lot.”

Connor looks surprised. “You’re always out with band people.”

“Yeah but I don’t really like them,” Zoe says. It wasn’t strictly true at this point, but in a few months it would be. They’d all abandon ship as soon as the letter hit the internet. “I just don’t like being home. And they have weed.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You could just ask Kyle Ackerman.”

“True,” Zoe says. “Remember when you taught me to roll a joint?”

Connor lets out a surprised laugh. It makes him look a lot younger. It’s fucking devastating. “Yeah. You sucked at it.”

“I got the hang of it eventually,” Zoe says defensively. 

“Yeah after you basically licked all the weed,” Connor says, rolling his eyes. “You’re really only supposed to get spit on the rolling papers.”

Zoe smiles a bit. 

“Is it nice not having gym class this year?” Zoe asks Connor. Seniors aren’t required to take gym unless they play a sport. 

He frowns. “Oh, I do. I flunked last year because I kept skipping. I just… didn’t go to it earlier.” He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t exactly see a career in athletics ahead of me.”

Zoe can hardly breathe for a moment. 

“Shame you don’t have a uterus,” Zoe says. “Period is the best excuse and Coach Dawkins doesn’t know shit about it. I think I had my period for a month last year.”

Connor rolls his eyes at her. “Slacker.”

“Like you can talk.”

His shoulders stiffen. 

Zoe bites her lip. “Fuck sorry. I forget how much of a bitch I can be when I’m not thinking.”

Connor eyes her for a moment. “You’re not a bitch.”

“Yeah I am. Ask anybody. Zoe Murphy is a stuck up bitch.

Connor frowns. “No, you’re not. You’re just socially awkward.”

“Am not.”

“Are too,” Connor retorts. “You hide behind the guitar and when you had cool blue hair, but you’re just a dork who is shy.”

Zoe swallows nausea down. “You thought my hair was cool?”

Connor shrugs. “Yeah, dude. That was pretty cool. Kind of badass.”

Zoe feels like crying. Just breaking down and crying until she physically can’t anymore. Evan has guessed one thing. 

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh fuck off, I’m just socially awkward,” Zoe jokes weakly. 

Connor grins. 

The bell rings. 

Lunch is over. Zoe wishes it was longer. She wishes everything were different. 

“Well I better…” Zoe starts. She doesn’t move. 

Connor gets up. “You’ve got that jazz band thing after school, right?”

“Yeah,” Zoe says.. “If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll drive you home.”

Connor nods. “Sure. I’ll just go to the computer lab or whatever.”

“I could skip it,” Zoe offers weakly. “If you don’t want to wait.”

“Dude, stop being weird,” Connor says. He helps her to her feet. They don’t crash into each other this time. 

“See ya,” Connor says. 

“Later,” Zoe replies. 

The day speeds up and slows down and she hates each hour she’s wasting not saying goodbye. She cuts out of the jazz band meeting early. Claims she’s got to drive her brother home.

Connor finds her by her car. “You’re done already?” He says. He sounds tense and hurt and sad. 

“Yeah,” Zoe says with a shrug. She looks at him. His nose and eyes are a little red. She wonders if he’s been crying. “You good? You look weird.”

Connor shoves something into his pocket. “I’m fine.”

Zoe frowns. “Seriously.”

“Seriously,” Connor mutters. His voice is watery. His shoulders bow forward. “It’s stupid.”

“Bet it’s not.”

Connor sighs. “I tried to apologize to that Evan kid,” Connor says. 

“Oh.” Zoe bites her lip. “How’d it go?”

“About as well as every other fucking thing in my life.” Connor shakes his head. “Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. Can we go?”

Zoe nods. She starts her car. Turns out of the lot. They drive in silence past the sign that reads THE END IS NEAR. Neither of them mention it. 

“You wanna go to Starbucks?” Zoe asks suddenly. 

Connor looks suspiciously over at her. “Why?”

“It’s what I do when I have a crappy day,” Zoe offers. “Plus then we can put off the Cynthia Interrogation. You know how she gets.”

Connor almost smiles. 

She drives them to Starbucks. Buys them both Frappuccinos. They sit at a table outside and drink them. 

“Was it a crappy day?” Zoe asks. 

Connor shrugs. Stirs his whipped cream into his drink. “Most of them are.”

“Tomorrow might be better?” Zoe says. 

“Don’t start,” Connor says. 

“Alright,” Zoe relents. 

“Hey,” Connor says after a long awkward silence. “You’re actually pretty good at guitar and stuff.”

“Okay?” Zoe says. She knows why he’s saying it but she can’t act like she knows. He’ll think she’s crazy. It could change everything and she can’t change anything. 

“Just. So you know. You don’t suck,” Connor says. 

“Thanks,” Zoe says quietly. She wants to ask why he’s saying it but she knows. She knows. She knows and she can’t do a damn thing. 

“How much you wanna bet that dad’s late?” Connor says then. 

“I wouldn’t bet against that,” Zoe says. 

“Remember how he coached tee ball that year?” Connor says. “And missed basically every game?”

“Good thing there were like ten coaches,” Zoe comments. 

“Totally,” Connor says. He slurps his drink. “Probably good. I sucked.”

“We both did,” Zoe says. “I usually picked dandelions.”

“Until I told you they were real lions and then you were scared of them,” Connor says with a half smile. 

“Ugh yeah,” Zoe laughs. “Asshole.”

Connor’s smile disappears. “I don’t mean to be an asshole…”

“You were, like, six or whatever,” Zoe says. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

Connor’s shoulders hunch. “I mean now.”

Zoe takes a sip of her drink. “Sometimes, yeah. I just think you’re… socially awkward. Shy.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I mean it,” Zoe says. “You’re just a nerd.”

“You gotta be smart to be a nerd,” Connor points out. 

“Debatable.”

They get in the car. Zoe drives them home. Her heart feels heavy and leaden. She hates everything about this drive. About the slick feeling of whipped cream coating the roof of her mouth. The way the coffee sloshes in her stomach. 

“Hey guys!” Their mom greets them before they’ve even managed to get all the way through the door.  “How was the first day?”

“Fine,” Zoe says. “Long.”

Connor offers a shrug. “At least it’s the last one.”

Their mom pulls Connor into a sudden and tearful hug. “I can’t believe it’s my baby’s last year of high school already.”

Connor looks awfully guilty. “Yeah.”

“Do you like your classes? Was your schedule okay? Did you -?”

“I have homework,” Connor says. He heads upstairs without saying anything else. 

“Well,” their mom says in this obvious voice. “At least he’s doing his homework.”

“I should do that too,” She says quietly. 

Her mom’s smile wilts. “Yeah. Of course honey.” She gives a sad sort of smile. “Your father promised he’d be home in time for dinner tonight.”

“Great,” Zoe says vaguely. 

She heads up the stairs. 

Paces her bedroom. 

Then goes and knocks on Connor’s door. She can’t stop herself. 

Connor looks bewildered when he opens the door. “What?”

“You’re not an asshole,” she says. “Okay? I really don’t think you’re an asshole. I made a joke earlier but I’m not kidding. You’re not an asshole. Alright?”

“Why are you being so weird today?” Connor asks, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“I don’t know,” Zoe says. “It just. Felt important.”

Connor narrows his eyes. “Why are you-”

“Guys! Dinner is ready!”

Connor gives Zoe a long look. Then he heads down the stairs. 

Connor sets the table. Zoe jumps in to help. 

“Tell me more about your days,” her mom tries. “Are your teachers nice?”

Zoe shrugs, straightening a napkin. “Yeah. I think.”

“My English teacher seems cool,” Connor offers quietly. “We have a banned book project.”

“What are you thinking about reading?” Their mom asks. 

Connor offers a shrug. “Not sure yet.” He rubs his nose. “I was thinking about The Handmaid’s Tale.

Zoe swallows hard. 

Their dad is late so they start without him. Connor mostly pushes his food around his plate. Their mom tries to engage him a few times, but most of her questions are met with silence or shrugs. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here,” their dad says as he comes through the door. 

Connor mixes his green beans with his mashed potatoes. He doesn’t look up when their dad sits down. He hunches his shoulders. Clutches the fork with white knuckles. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Their mom says frostily. 

“The interstate was a mess,” their dad replies, a practiced excuse. Zoe has no idea if that is true. If her mom ever bothers to investigate. 

“Can I be excused?” Connor asks after maybe twenty seconds of tension. “I’m tired. I don’t feel well.”

“You hardly touched your dinner,” their mom says. She looks forlorn. Upset. “I made your favorite…”

“I’m not very hungry.” Connor frowns a little. He wraps his arms around his middle.“Sorry.”

“Finish your dinner, Connor,” their dad says, irritation evident. “I just got home.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” Connor says in this defeated voice. “I just want to go to my room. I have homework.”

“Jesus, you expect me to believe that?” Their dad laughs in this sort of caustic way. “Next you’ll tell me need a ride to football practice.”

“Guys, can you not?” Zoe says, her voice shaking with anger and sadness and guilt. So much fuckinf guilt. This is the last time she will see Connor. It’s the last time. “Can we have one dinner without arguing?”

Connor looks at Zoe. For a long moment. She can’t read his expression. 

He sighs. 

And goes back to mixing his food together without eating a bite. He doesn’t get up from the table. Zoe feels her stomach drop.

Something is different.

Fuck. 

She’s not supposed to change anything. She’s fucking up again. She’s fucking up. 

“How was the first day?” Their dad asks, apparently mollified that Connor hasn’t left. 

“Alright,” Zoe says. 

“Fine,” Connor says. 

“Anything interesting happen?” Their dad asks. 

“Had that jazz band thing,” Zoe says. “It was okay. I’m gonna be first chair at the fall concert.”

“I signed some kid’s cast,” Connor adds, his voice quiet. Hollow. 

Why do things keep changing? 

Fuck. How did Zoe fuck this up again? Zoe feels this horrifying feeling of despair welling up inside of her. Why are things different?

Their mom looks overcome with emotion. Zoe sees her eyes watering.“You did?”

Connor shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. We have English together.”

“What’s his name? You could have him over some time if you want,” their mom says. Pleads. “It would be so nice if you had a friend over, Connor.”

“Um. His name’s Evan,” Connor says. He’s frowning. “I’ll ask him?”

Zoe raises her eyebrows at him. Connor frowns and shrugs. “What?”

“Nothing,” Zoe says. “Just didn’t know you guys were friends.”

Connor’s ears go pink. “I dunno. Whatever.” He straightens his shoulders out a little. “I went to his bar mitzvah, like, four years ago.”

“That’s right, you did!” Their mom says. “His mother was so lovely. She was so worried nobody would come.” She takes a sip of her wine. “She’s raising him on her own.”

“Hmm,” their dad says. “Shame. What happened to his father?”

“Divorce, I think,” their mom says. 

Connor is looking over his plate at Zoe. 

Zoe is frozen. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s not supposed to change anything. She’s trapped. Her hands are tied. 

But things feel different and she’s lost. What did she do? All she did was take him to Starbucks. That shouldn’t have changed things. 

She can’t make herself eat anymore. Their mom frowns. “Neither of you are eating,” she says in this hurt voice. “You used to love it when I made this.”

Connor opens and closes his mouth. “I guess I’m. Not used to animal products anymore.”

Their dad laughs. 

The noise is so surprising that all of them flinch. 

“Sorry,” he says, giving the table an awkward grin. “Sorry. Just. He’s got a point, Cynthia. When did we stop being vegan Buddhists?”

Their mom’s cheeks go a little pink. “When I realized that… well. I don’t really enjoy soy as much as I thought I would.”

This time Connor laughs. Like genuinely laughs. 

“Well it’s the truth,” Their mom mumbles. She shrugs. “I picked up a pie from that bakery we used to go to, when you were little? I thought some dessert might be nice. Big day today.”

Connor’s mouth shapes a cautious smile. “What kind?”

“Apple,” their mom answers. She gets up to grab the pie and some plates. 

“Remember how we used to go to that orchard?” Their dad says suddenly as their mom passes out slices. “We used to have picnics.”

“Yeah,” Connor says. “You crashed our toy plane.”

“I like to see it as more of an… emergency landing,” their dad jokes weakly. Nobody laughs. Nobody says anything. 

“I think that place closed down,” Zoe says after a long pause. 

“A few years ago,” Their mom says, nodding. 

“Shame,” their dad says. “I liked that place.”

“Maybe somebody will fix it up,” Connor says. He’s looking at Zoe again. “Bring it back.”

It’s scaring her. She doesn’t know what it means. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s not allowed to change anything. She’s not allowed to do anything to change things. 

She knows what happens when she interferes. 

It’s not possible that Connor… knows? 

Right? 

There’s no way he knows what comes once he’s gone. There is no way.

But he’s still looking at Zoe.

“I’m going to be sick,” she hears herself announce and then she’s fleeing up the stairs. To the bathroom. She heaves the few bites she managed of her dinner into the toilet. She feels sick and sweaty and disgusting. She’s lost. What the fuck is going on? 

Zoe emerges from the bathroom, breathing heavily and determined to go and lock herself in her bedroom so she cannot fuck up the timeline anymore. 

She almost jumps out of her skin when she discovers Connor sitting at her desk chair. He’s frowning at a piece of paper. 

“You ever see It’s A Wonderful Life ?” He says conversationally. 

Zoe feels winded and unreal. “I watched it at Cat’s once. I thought it was kind of scary and made her turn it off before the end.”

Connor’s mouth turns into a sardonic smile. “The ending? It’s corny as fuck. The whole town raises money to fix all of George’s problems. Just like. Instantly. It’s kind of lame.”

Zoe sinks wearily onto her bed. She does not have a fucking clue what is going on. 

“Like the life-is-worth-living message is kind of undercut by the deus ex machina shit,” Connor goes on. “Also that bell thing? Like come on. That’s stupid.”

Zoe shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

Connor fixes her with an unwavering stare. “Did you know I started to see a shrink in rehab?”

Zoe didn’t. 

“Dr. Sherman. Nice woman. Probably a quack.” 

Zoe can’t seem to swallow. 

“I thought I was just having, like, a super bullshit detox at first,” Connor says. “And it’s entirely possible I’ve just. Totally cracked. But mom made me keep going when I got home.”

Zoe just stares. 

“And based on the look you’re giving me, I don’t think I’m any crazier than you,” Connor says. 

Zoe panics. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Connor says evenly. “You get this face every time you’re about to walk through a door. You know.”

Zoe can’t breathe. “I’m not… I’m not allowed to change anything,” Zoe whispers. Her heart is in her throat. “When I did…”

Connor nods. “Yeah. I saw that. That fucking sucked. Not a nice way to get confirmation that I’m super gay, by the way.”

Zoe shakes her head, confused. “You didn’t…?”

“Well not for sure ,” he says and he sounds horribly, remarkably seventeen years old. “Not like I had a lot of chances to figure it out  But well.”

“I don’t understand,” Zoe chokes out. Her eyes flood. “I don’t know why you’re telling me. I can’t change anything. I can’t… I can’t save you.”

Connor heaves a heavy sigh. “I know you can’t,” he says. He frowns. “In fact, I know if I walked out of here right now and did it, you wouldn’t even try to stop me.”

Zoe feels a tear slip hotly down her face. “So what… what does… what happens?”

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t fucking know,” he says. “Magical realism. It’s all bullshit.”

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Summary:

"Magical realism, right?"

Chapter Text

Zoe can’t keep the tears from escaping. “I can’t do anything,” she whispers. “I can’t... but I don’t want… I never wanted…”

“Trust me, I got that,” Connor says sourly. “That’s very clear. You’re not a bad person. You didn’t actually want me dead.” 

“No. Of course I didn’t. Of course not.”

“No. I know. I got that.”

They sit in silence for a minute. “Can you give me a ride somewhere?” Connor says. 

Zoe blinks in surprise. Her heart nearly leaps out of her chest. “What? No!”

“Not there,” Connor says quickly, like he’s frustrated by the way she reacts with panic and fear. “I gotta… just. Mom and dad have my keys still.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just. Trust me. I gotta do something.”

Zoe gets up on numb legs. Follows Connor down the stairs. 

“Mom!” Connor yells. “We’ll be back. I need to go get something.”

He’s out the door before their mom appears to demand to know what’s going on. Zoe just shrugs. 

She gets in her car. Puts the key in the ignition. “Where are we going?”

“You know where Evan Hansen lives, right?”

Zoe stares. 

“Come on, I know you do,” Connor says. “I saw it.” 

Zoe narrows her eyes. “What did you see?”

“Gross, don’t be a perv. I wouldn’t watch that. Gross. Seriously Zo.” Connor pushes his hand through his hair. He looks… determined. “I just. I gotta give him his letter back.”

Zoe exhales. 

She nods. 

The drive is quiet. Zoe has a million questions but she’s terrified to ask any of them. She’s not sure she wants to know. Not yet. 

They pass the sign that reads THE END IS NEAR. Connor barks out a laugh. 

“Fucking magical realism,” he mutters. 

Zoe turns onto Evan’s street. Pulls into his driveway. Heidi’s car is parked in the driveway. Zoe has never seen the car before but she knows it isn’t Evan’s. 

Connor opens the door. “Come on. Let’s go unfuck this part of the story.”

Zoe gets out of the car. Follows Connor up to the door. He ignores the doorbell and pounds on the door.  

A moment later, Heidi Hansen appears in the door. She’s wearing a weary smile. “Can I help you?”

“Is Evan around?” Connor says. “We go to school together, and I have something of his. I want to give it back.”

Heidi looks surprised. “Oh. Come on in. Evan’s just upstairs in his room.”

Connor heads inside. Zoe follows. She feels like she’s not really there or possibly all too there. All too present. 

This feels unrealistically real. Unbelievably believable. Zoe can’t stop recalling all of the times she’s been in this hallway. Outside this door. In this house, in this time. 

Connor knocks on Evan’s bedroom door. 

“Mom, I’m - you don’t have to keep—”

The door opens. Evan is standing there in his striped polo and khakis. His white cast has been written on with sharpie. CONNOR. All caps. 

Evan looks terrified. “What are you-?”

“I’m sorry I took this,” Connor says. He seems less confident as his hand jerkily goes into his pocket and fishes out the slightly crumpled and bent letter. He holds it out to Evan. 

Evan stares at it. 

He looks horribly defeated. Small. Teenaged. He doesn’t take it back. “Did you… you read it?”

Connor gives a curt nod. “Sorry.”

Evan looks desperately at Zoe. “You?”

Zoe starts to open her mouth, but Connor answers first. “No. Zoe didn’t.”

 Evan’s shoulders seem to unwind a little bit. “Oh.”

“You should take it back,” Connor says. 

Evan gingerly takes it out of Connor’s hand. Like it might be a bomb about to explode. Like it might ruin his entire life. 

“That’s pretty fucked up though,” Connor goes on, a little too aggressively. “Writing shit like that.”

Evan’s cheeks go pink. He drops his gaze. “I didn’t think… n-nobody was supposed to…”

Connor frowns a bit. “Yeah. I figured.”

Evan looks down at the letter in his hand. He seems lost. 

Zoe is also lost. 

What happens now? 

“You said it was an assignment,” Connor goes on. He’s slouching, like he’s afraid his head will hit the ceiling. He’s speaking more softly now. Like he’s realized that Evan is afraid, that he knows why Evan might have written what he wrote and doesn’t want to scare him more. 

Evan swallows hard. Audibly. “For therapy,” he says in a small voice. “It’s a-a therapy assignment. It’s supposed to - a pep talk. It’s a pep talk.”

“No offense dude, but your idea of a pep talk sucks,” Connor says, frowning a little. 

“Yeah. Good uh. Good point.” Evan tugs at the hem of his shirt awkwardly. He seems deeply, deeply uncomfortable and totally disbelieving that this is happening. He gives Connor an awkward half smile.

Connor shrugs, half smiling back. “Well. Sorry again for taking it. And for… this morning. Sorry. I’ll let you get back to-”

“Did you mean it?” Evan says then. There’s something desperate in his voice. Something pleading. Like he doesn’t want them to just leave. Like he needs to know something, desperately needs to know something. 

Connor’s brows knit together. “Mean what?”

“That we could both… that we could pretend. To have friends.”

That hits Zoe hard. Like she’s been tackled from behind. 

She didn’t know. She didn’t see that coming. 

Connor’s mouth turns into a sardonic smile. “Yeah. I guess. Mostly I was being a shithead.”

Evan’s shoulders slump. “Oh.”

Zoe nudges Connor in the ribs. 

He sighs. “But I’m just. I am ... A shithead,” he says. Connor shrugs. “Like. Naturally. But uh. Yeah. If you wanted… You seem pretty cool and… if you wanted...”

Evan looks horribly hopeful. “Y-yeah?”

Connor shrugs. “Yeah.”

Evan looks at Zoe suspiciously. “And um. You um…?” He tugs at his shirt again. “You’re n-not going to t-tell -”

“I’m just his ride,” Zoe says. “I don’t know anything. Promise.”

“Great.” Evan blinks a few times then, looking confused. “Wait. How’d you know where I live?”

Connor and Zoe trade looks. 

“Magical realism,” Connor mutters. Evan’s eyebrows knit together, confused. “I went to your bar mitzvah and shit. Your address was on the invite.”

Evan looks more confused. “That was like. Four years ago?”

Connor pulls at his hair. Frowns. “I have a good memory,” he says. “Don’t make it weird.”

Evan almost smiles. “Okay.”

“Right well. See ya,” Connor says then. “We can’t really, like,  stay, sorry. But uh. School?”

“Yeah. I’ll. Be there.” Evan nods. Smiles a little. 

Connor waves and turns to go. Zoe gives Evan a tentative smile. “Bye Evan.”

“Bye Zoe.”

They head down the stairs. Out the door. Zoe follows Connor to the car. He sighs heavily, his head leaned back against the seat. “Okay,” He says. “Okay. That’s… Okay.” 

They sit there for a long moment. 

“Now what?” Zoe asks. 

Connor shrugs. “Just. Drive. Please?”

Zoe drives. Past the THE END IS NEAR sign. She just keeps driving. Out of town. 

To the park. 

Because she can’t change anything. 

Connor looks at her.

Gets out of the car. Zoe follows. 

He lights a cigarette. 

“I don’t know what happens now,” Zoe says. She feels shaky. Unreal and too real. Her heart hurts because it can seem to slow down. “What happens now? I can’t-”

“You can’t change anything,” Connor says. 

“I know,” Zoe says. She blinks tears from her eyes. 

You can’t save me.” Connor says it like an accusation. 

Zoe holds her breath. She’s going to lose him no matter what. She’s going to lose him. It hurts so much she can’t understand how she’s even standing. How she’s even breathing. 

She can’t save him. 

She can’t save Connor. 

“But I can.”

Zoe feels like the tight band holding her chest together has broken. Just snapped. Like everything inside of her is suddenly loose and untethered. Like her body, like her soul, is unraveling out of her, like pieces of her are falling limp and lifeless to the ground. 

“I don’t… I don’t…” Zoe tries, unable to find the words. 

Connor flicks ash off the end of his cigarette. “It doesn’t work if you decide for me,” he says. “It’s gotta be me. Right? That’s the… I think it’s gotta be me.”

Zoe blinks, not understanding. Her brain is jammed. She’s not processing. Not taking in information properly. “Are you… So you’re… you're not going to…?”

Connor frowns. Takes another drag. His shoulders bow. “I don’t know yet.”

Zoe feels all of the air rush out of her. As if she’s been stabbed. As if the life has drained out of her. “But I thought… you said, like. It’s a Wonderful Life has a happy ending. I thought…”

Connor pushes a hand through his hair. He looks angry. And scared. “How do I know I won’t fuck it up?” 

Zoe doesn’t have an answer. 

She has no answer. They’ve gone off script completely. 

“I mean, it could make everything worse,” Connor goes on. “I don’t see any fucking… townspeople rushing in to help me, do you? I could make things a lot worse. It could be bad, like when you tried to fix it. It could be worse.

“But it might not be,” Zoe whispers. “It might be okay.”

Connor blinks a few times rapidly. “You were happy,” he says softly. He sounds heartbroken. “You and… and Evan? Mom and dad? Once I was gone. You guys were happy for a little while.”

Zoe shakes her head. “Not really. Not for real. We were just…pretending. Avoiding how much it hurt.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Connor says, blinking hard. His nose is pink. His eyes are red. “You don’t have to lie.

“I’m not,” Zoe says. “I’m not. I’ve spent my life… my whole life since you died not knowing how to let go. Not knowing how to be sad or… or happy. I was just angry and broken because the world stopped making sense the moment you died.”

“You don’t-”

“It all stopped making sense. And I learned to live with it because I had to live with it. But it doesn’t mean it wasn’t… horrible. And lonely. Mom and dad couldn’t look at me. And I felt… so fucking lost because I lost you and everything else stopped making any fucking sense.”

Connor shakes his head. “That’s not true. I saw it, Zoe. I saw-”

“I’m not done. Please, just. Let me say this. I know I can’t change anything,” Zoe says. Repeats. She’s crying. She’s crying and she can’t stop as she struggles to get the words out.  “I know that and I’m… I’ll accept it. If I have to, I’ll accept it this time. It’s your decision. Your choice. And you shouldn’t change it for me. Or mom or dad or Evan Hansen. You shouldn’t do it if that’s not what you want. You need to… to do what you want.

Connor takes in a sharp breath. 

“But if you do die, I need you to know that I will really, really miss you,” Zoe says. “Okay? I’ll miss you every day and I won’t stop.”

Connor stares at her. 

“Do you believe me?” Zoe asks. 

Connor swallows audibly.  He blinks rapidly a few times. “I wouldn’t have. Before.”

“Magical realism, right?” Zoe weakly jokes. 

“Yeah.”

Connor drops his cigarette. His hands are shaking, and he clenches his hands into fists. Like he wants to hide it. His shaking hands. His fear. He’s scared. She hates that he’s scared. It doesn’t sit right, which isn’t fair. But it doesn’t sit right to see her big brother look so fucking terrified. 

“I probably should do it,” Connor says, then swallows audibly. “I mean. That’s what you went to therapy for, right? To, like, process it and… deal grief and stuff. I probably should do it. It’ll mess up your whole life if I don’t. Like. You grew up. You grew up and you have a life and I fucked it up… so I should just do it. Right? I should just do it.” 

Zoe’s not sure who he’s trying to convince here. She just knows that every word feels more painful, more jarring and horrible. Like someone pulling a tooth without sedation, like someone standing on her windpipe and watching her choke. 

“I should do it, right?” Connor says desperately. “Right? Because then it’ll stop. It’ll stop and you’ll go back to your life and… I should do it. I want to do it.”

Zoe wipes a tear out of her eyes. Looks at her brother. Lost and scared and hurting. “If that’s what you want,” she says quietly. 

“It’s… it’s what I’ve wanted for ages,” Connor says. “For years. I wanted it to stop. I want it to stop. So I should…” He swallows audibly. “Right?”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Zoe says quietly. 

“Fuck you, yes you can!” Connor says. Shouts. “You can! You’ve seen it, you know how it goes - tell me what I should do.”

“I can’t, ” Zoe whispers. 

“If I do it, then I fuck up your life,” Connor says. His voice is hoarse. “I’ll fuck up your life.”

“Don’t worry about me,” She says, blinking away her tears. “I’m okay. Really. I know maybe it didn’t look like it because I was kind of a mess, but. I’m alright. You need to do what you want. You have to decide for yourself. You can’t do it for me.  Don’t make a decision because of that -”

“Do you think it hurts?” Connor asks her suddenly, cutting Zoe off. He sounds… 

Young. He sounds seventeen and scared and worried and young. 

“To die?” Zoe asks. Clarifies. She’s choking. She can’t breathe. 

Connor nods. 

Zoe feels it like a punch. “I hope not. Doesn’t seem fair.” She blinks a few times. “I mean… You did it. Or. You might. Because you’re… you’re already in pain. It’s not fair if this… if dying is just more of the same. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Connor nods again. Nods and nods, uncertainty obvious on his face. He looks torn. Unsure. He wrings his hands together, his knuckles going ghostly white. “You’ll probably start to hate me again. If I don’t do it. You’ll hate me.”

Zoe shakes her head. “Never. I thought I did. For a long time I thought I did. But I won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Connor says. It comes out tearful, not sharp. Not biting. Not with malice. With fear. “You might h-hate that I changed shit, that I kept you from going back to being… being a grown up, being a real person, you’ll probably resent me if I don’t-”

“I won’t,” Zoe says, as firmly as she can manage. “I swear I won’t. I’ll probably get mad sometimes. And I will probably be a bitch. And we’re definitely going to yell at each other and swear at each other and get pissed off.  But I won’t hate you. Because I don’t hate you. Not in any universe.”

Connor shakes his head. A tear drips down his face. “You don’t?” 

“I don’t,” Zoe says. 

Connor sinks down to the ground, his back against the door of Zoe’s car. He pulls his knees to his chest. 

He is heartachingly young. Painfully seventeen, just a few weeks shy of eighteen. On the cusp of adulthood that in her life, he never reaches. He’s young. Too young. His hands and feet are still slightly too big for the rest of him, like a puppy growing into his paws, like the teenager he is. There’s a zit above one of his eyebrows because he’s a teenager who never outgrew that hormonal stage. He never grew out of it. He never grew up. 

Zoe did, but right now it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. 

Zoe feels remarkably sixteen right now, despite that not being the full picture. She feels sixteen and worried. Sixteen and scared for her brother. Scared of the pain that is coming her way, the pain that made it so she nearly didn’t make it to be a grown up, an adult, a thirty year old person who was equipped to be on her own and have a full life. 

Zoe feels sixteen. Her brother is seventeen. They’re both fucking terrified. 

Magical realism. Go figure.

Zoe approaches Connor cautiously. Like a frightened animal she’s got cornered and doesn’t want to spook. A dog that’s been kicked enough times that it bites on instinct. She approaches quietly, calmly, never daring to get too close. 

Zoe sinks to the ground beside Connor, her back to the car, keeping at least a foot between them. There’s broken asphalt and gravel under her butt, uncomfortable and digging in through her jeans, but she doesn’t adjust or move or fidget. She sits still and waits to see what comes next. The sun is hanging low in the sky. The green of the trees tint the darkness a blue green. Zoe waits to find out what will happen.

Connor wipes his eyes. Looks at her, his glaze blank. “You really won’t stop me?”

Zoe swallows hard, tears building up in her again. She doesn’t like that he keeps asking. “I won’t. I want to but… I won’t.” 

Connor nods a few more times. He’s shaking. Zoe wants to reach out. Take his hand, throw her arms around him. Tell him how sorry she is that he feels this way. That he’s in so much pain. She wants to offer him some kind of comfort even though she suspects there’s really none to be found here. She wants to protect him and shelter him and comfort him. 

But if she does, then it’s goodbye. And she’ll let him be the one who decides that. When they say goodbye.

She’ll let him choose. 

Connor takes in a shaky breath. Their shoulders bump together, and Zoe can’t tell if it was accidental or purposeful. Connor’s breathing is ragged. Like he’s run a long way and can’t seem to catch his breath again. Like he’s exhausted. 

She wishes she could take that away, but Zoe knows that she can’t. 

Connor keeps breathing next to her. Ragged, uneven, painful sounding almost. But still breathing. He’s still breathing. 

Connor reaches into his pocket. 

And pulls out the bottle of pills. 

Zoe blinks away her tears. 

Connor holds the bottle out to her. “Take these.”

“What?” Zoe says breathlessly. Winded. Lost. 

“Take them away so I can’t change my mind in fifteen minutes okay?” Connor says. 

Zoe can’t breathe. “You’re sure?”

“No I’m not fucking sure,” Connor says, his voice angry and scared and broken. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Just take them so I can’t, okay?”

Zoe’s fingers close around the bottle. She takes it from his hand. 

All of the tension that seems to have been holding Connor up seems to disappear. He takes a shuddering breath. 

Zoe shoves the pills into her bag and wraps her arms around him. Lets him lose it, hanging limply in her arms. He cries and cries. Like a child. Because he’s a child. He’s still a child. He never got a real chance to be anything more than that. 

And then just as suddenly as he broke down, Connor straightens out. Wipes his face. Looks at Zoe. “You remember when we saw Hunger Games?

Zoe’s so caught off guard that she laughs. “Um. Yeah. We were kids still. Mom thought it was too violent.”

“You told me you wouldn’t volunteer to take my place,” Connor says laughing a little. 

“Well, because of gender,” Zoe replies. “I couldn’t.”

Connor looks at her with red eyes. He reaches out and messes up her hair. “You totally would have, though. You definitely would have volunteered to take my place.”

Zoe laughs. She feels insane right now. “You’re not wrong.”

They sit until the gravel under their legs and butts is too much. They sit until the sunsets and the night gets too cold for their summer attire. They sit until they have goosebumps and the darkness has washed everything out and the stars twinkle above them, not blotted out by streetlights or passing cars. 

Connor pulls Zoe to her feet. 

“You sure about this?” Zoe asks Connor. 

“No. Not at all.” 

She drives them home. 

“Where the hell have you two been?” Their mom demands when they get inside. “I’ve been calling you for over an hour. It’s a school night and it’s after ten! What is going on? Where were you?”

Zoe looks at Connor. He looks back at her, his face closed off. He sighs. “Zoe was helping me with something.” 

Their mom looks confused now, like that doesn’t make sense. And it doesn’t. Not really. Connor and Zoe aren’t exactly the type to rush off to help one another that way. 

“Show her, Zo,” Connor says quietly. 

Zoe pulls the pills out of her bag. Hands them to their mom. Watches the way their mom’s eyebrows knit together. The way her eyes get glassy as she turns the orange pill bottle over in her hands and reads what they are. 

“I’ve had those in my room for a week,” Connor tells her. His voice shakes. He looks unsure. Young. Scared. “I was gonna…”

Their mom’s face crumples. “Baby, no. ” Her eyes fill with tears. She presses her hand to her lips. 

Connor clears his throat. He doesn’t seem able to raise his eyes to meet their mom’s.  “I’ve been thinking about it for… a long time. A really long time. And I… I think I need some kind of help? Because it just keeps… keeps getting worse. I just keep getting worse and worse, and I know I keep messing everything up but… I don’t know what to do anymore, mom.”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Their mom asks, her voice wobbling. 

Connor shrugs helplessly. “I… I don’t really know,” he admits. He looks unsure and casts his eyes over toward Zoe. She nods, encouraging him to go on. Keep talking. “I’m scared if… if I don’t do something soon then I’ll…”

Their dad has been watching all of this from across the room, stone faced and silent. Connor glances toward him, something in his expression dulling as he takes in the way Larry’s looking at him. “I’ve been trying,” Connor says in a hoarse voice. “I’ve been going to therapy and… and I’ve been doing what the doctor tells me to do, but it’s just not working. It’s just not… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

Their mom cries more. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart,” She tries to say. 

Connor flinches. “Yes, there is. Something’s wrong. Something is seriously wrong.” 

Their parents look horrified. Zoe swallows hard. “I think… I think what Connor is saying is… he needs more help or, at least, different help than what he’s currently getting. He needs something else because… he’s in pain.” 

Connor stares at her, his eyes red rimmed and glassy. 

“Am I right?” Zoe asks him. 

Connor nods. “Something like that.” 

Their dad’s face is blank. Empty of all emotion. He clears his throat. “I’ll make some calls,” he says eventually. 

Zoe looks at him, not understanding. 

“To our insurance. See what other kinds of treatment they’ll cover. Okay? And if they can’t… well. We can move some things around. We’ll figure something out.”

Zoe and Connor breathe out twin sighs of relief. Zoe reaches out and grabs his hand tightly in hers. He squeezes back, a little too hard, but his hand feels warm and real and alive and it’s okay. 

Their mom sends them upstairs to bed, saying she needs to talk to their dad in private. She says they must be exhausted. That they need sleep.  

Zoe follows Connor up the stairs. 

They stare at each other outside of his door. 

“I don’t have anything else,” Connor says without her having to ask. “Just. So you don’t worry. I’m not gonna… Okay?”

“Okay.”

He tilts his head a little. “Is it weird?”

Zoe has no idea what he means. “Is what weird?”

“Growing up,” he says. “I never thought about it before but I know you… I mean you’ve kind of, like, done it. Is it weird?”

Zoe nods. “The weirdest part is that it doesn’t really feel that different.”

Connor nods. 

Zoe smiles. 

He heads into his room. Stops and turns back for a moment. “Thanks.”

“You mean that?” Zoe asks. 

Connor looks thoughtful. “Not sure yet. I’ll get back to you.” 

Zoe nods. “Yeah. Of course.”

She walks through the door to her bedroom. 

And into an empty white room.


Dr. Sherman gives her a weary smile. 

Zoe swallows hard. “Did it not… is he still…?”

Dr. Sherman smiles again. “Connor changed his mind. And I broke about a thousand rules helping him. It’s not strictly ethical to use this ability to go to back and treat someone who has already died. They’ve revoked my license.”

“I’m sorry,” Zoe says. 

“I’m not. Connor is alive.”

Zoe breathes and breathes and breathes. “I’m sorry about your license. You helped me and I… cost you your job.”

Dr. Sherman shrugs. “Truthfully? I much prefer more uh… traditional methods of treatment.”

Zoe nods. “How’d you end up doing this?”

Dr. Sherman sighs. “Well many people who complete this method go on to practice it.”

Zoe stares. 

“Wasn’t a good fit for me,” she says. 

Zoe nods. 

Swallows hard. “What happens now?”

Dr. Sherman grins. “I hope you’ll forgive me for this,” she says. “But I think you’ll want to go back. See the results first hand.”

“Can I do that? If they took your license?”

Dr. Sherman nods. “I’ve still got my keys until the end of the day.”

Zoe feels her heart lift like someone has filled her up with balloons. With a thousand birds taking flight. 

“Go on. Through the door. Before they take my keys.”

“Thank you,” Zoe says. She means it. She truly means it. 

“Go. You deserve to see what happens.”

“I thought this wasn’t about what anyone deserves?” Zoe says. 

Dr. Sherman smiles wider. “What are you waiting for?”

Zoe doesn’t hesitate. She goes through the door. 

Chapter 13: Epilogue

Summary:

Time moves forward.

Chapter Text

Zoe finds herself in her bedroom. She is sixteen years old. Not far off from turning seventeen. The house is quiet. 

She can remember broad strokes. Connor dying. The Connor Project. Evan and how broken he looked telling them about his lies. Nick and Drew and the mess Zoe made. 

But it’s muted. Half remembered. Like a strange dream she had. A book she read for school a long time ago. 

Because she is sixteen years old. Not far off from turning seventeen. She is not thirty. 

And she has a brother who is alive. 

Connor is alive. Just down the hall. 

She knocks on his door. 

He opens it cautiously. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Zoe says back. 

He gives her a half smile. Tugs at his hair. “Mom and dad came to talk to me,” he says. 

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I guess… I’m going to some kind of… in-patient thing.” Connor shrugs. “I’m supposed to be packing because I’m going Friday after school.”

“You still have to go to school?” Zoe asks, disbelieving. 

Connor rolls his eyes. “We have to let Larry have one, Zo, or he might genuinely die. He’s not really into the whole… feelings thing.” 

Zoe almost smiles. “Yeah. He’s kind of fucked up, isn’t he?” 

Connor almost smiles. “Been fucking saying that for years.”

Zoe nods. “Want some help?”

Connor shrugs. 

They fold up hoodies and pairs of jeans. Put them into a suitcase sitting open on Connor’s bed. 

“It was fucking weird that mom started wearing my clothes,” he says then, holding onto a graying hoodie. Connor pauses, swallows hard, blinks. Like he’s surprised himself by talking. 

Zoe nods, feeling her stomach twist. She knows. She knows that happened, but it’s a hazy memory. Like it’s too faint to recall properly. Created with a printer that’s low on ink. 

It all happens in that funny way that life happens. Starts and stops. Racing forward sometimes, dragging others. 

The next day at school, Zoe spots Evan lingering anxiously near enough to Connor’s locker that it’s clearly not a coincidence. “Are you gonna talk to him?” Zoe asks. 

Connor bites his lip. He looks unsure. 

Zoe raises her eyebrows at him. “Come on. You already know he’ll like you.”

Connor frowns. “I don’t… I could fuck it up.”

Zoe nudges his shoulder. “But you might not.” 

Connor seems to consider this. “If I fuck up his life -”

“You can blame me for it,” Zoe says.

Connor frowns and stomps off in Evan’s direction. Evan’s eyes widen in alarm, but then something Zoe immediately recognizes as relief overtakes his face. 

After school on Friday, Connor leaves for his inpatient stay. He’s back home in a few weeks, and some of the exhaustion seems to have fallen away from him. But not all of it. Then he’s gone again for a few more weeks. Nobody complains about how much it costs or how inconvenient it is or even how much school Connor is missing. 

Zoe finds Evan in the hallway during Connor’s second extended absence because, from the disappointed look Evan wears, Connor didn’t explain where he was going or why. Zoe gives him an abridged version of the truth: Connor’s not doing well so he’s away to get better. 

Zoe watches his eyebrows pinch together. “He’s… he’s sick?” Evan tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Is he - I mean - what’s -” He stops. Clears his throat. “That’s so rude, sorry.”

Zoe gives him an understanding smile. “He. You know. It’s mental health stuff.” 

Evan swallows audibly. “Oh,” He says, and his voice sounds oddly hollow and Zoe recalls the way anxiety always seemed to roll off of him in waves and the vacant looks he would sometimes get, and she gives him a smile she hopes is reassuring. 

“It sucks. But he really wants to get better.” 

“Oh. Y-yeah. Good.”

Connor comes back to school as the leaves drop off of the trees. Evan gets his cast off and Connor writes his name on Evan’s slightly shrunken arm in sharpie. It makes Evan wince and laugh and call Connor a dickhead. It takes a few days to wash off. Zoe privately thinks that maybe Evan didn’t try too hard to scrub it away.

By November, Evan is a familiar figure in their lives. For real this time. No lies or stories. They all sit together at lunch with Cat; Zoe has ditched most of her jazz band friends claiming they’ve outgrown each other. Connor catches her eye when she says this but doesn’t voice his opinion on it. 

He does, however, loudly voice his opinion that jazz band is “fucking lame” and full of losers while Evan frantically tries to hush him for being rude. Evan bugs Connor about actually doing his homework. Connor looks completely startled, so startled that he actually does it. Surprised to be noticed. To be cared for. To be nagged.

Connor and Evan spend a lot of time together, actually. Sometimes with Zoe, but not always. Sometimes she picks Connor up from Evan’s house and he comes home smiling. He won’t say much, and he won’t even cop to being friends most of the time, but Zoe can tell. Having someone is helping.


They reach Christmas and Connor’s not dead. It’s a fucking miracle. Zoe’s not pregnant or recovering from becoming unpregnant. Connor’s in therapy and on drugs that give him migraines but he keeps at it. Keeps trying. Zoe’s asked to be put on birth control because while she’s not having sex with anyone, she wants to be prepared in case someone she might want to sleep with comes into her life. Their parents are at some Christmas party the Harrises are throwing so it’s just the three of them at home.

Two days before Christmas, Zoe joins Evan and Connor in the living room and they watch It’s A Wonderful Life. Their parents are at some Christmas party the Harrises are throwing so it’s just the three of them at home.

“I’m Jewish,” Evan says as they are about to start the movie. “I’ve never seen it.”

“You’re Jewish?” Connor says with a twisted smile. 

“You came to my bar mitzvah-” Evan begins, then stops. Smiles in his own twisted way. “You’re fucking with me.”

Connor grins bigger.

Zoe gets up and makes popcorn, and then they watch the movie. Personally, Zoe doesn’t enjoy old films. Everything in it smacks of all the things that were wrong about the past. 

Connor complains about the ending. 

Evan looks slightly horrified. “You think George should have died?”

“No,” Connor says in a hard voice. “It’s just… it’s not that easy, y’know? The movie… it makes it look easy.”

Zoe excuses herself to go get a glass of water and when she comes back, Connor has an arm around Evan’s shoulders. He looks spooked. They both do. 

“Everything okay?” Zoe asks. 

Evan’s eyes are red rimmed and his cheeks are pink. “I’ve been… I’ve been kind of having a. A hard time. The movie…”

Zoe nods. Sits on Evan’s other side. 

“You remember how my arm was broken at the beginning of the year?” Evan says quietly. Zoe’s eyes meet Connor’s over the top of Evan’s bowed head. 

“Yeah,” Connor says. He’s very pale. 

“I… It wasn’t. It wasn’t an accident.”

He tells her and Connor, staring at his lap, how he really broke his arm. 

They both know already. But it’s smudged and blurred. Like a weird dream. A story you heard through the grapevine. Like it belongs in somebody else’s life. 

And it hurts all the same. To know he’s still in so much pain. It’s not in the past for Evan. 

Connor nudges Evan nicely, a friendly nudge. “It’s okay,” he says. 

“It’s not . I’m such a - you guys aren’t going to want to hang out anymore, right? I’m such a mess and if my mom…  If she found out… And-and we’re all, we’re kind of fr-friends and. I don’t. I don’t want you to hate me. it’s not okay.”

Connor nods. “I know,” he says, frowning deeply. “It’s not okay. None of it is okay. I get it.” 

Evan blinks a few times, his eyes  glassy. “You do?”

Zoe takes a breath. “He does.” 

“That’s why I… missed all that school,” Connor says after a moment. “At the beginning of the year. I was… I was planning… I get it, okay?”

Evan blinks a few times rapidly. “I didn’t… Fuck, I’m s-sorry, why didn’t I-?”

“You’re still here, right?” Connor says, interrupting him. “That’s a good start.”

“Y-you don’t hate me?” Evan says in a brittle, fragile voice. 

“No fucking way,” Connor says fiercely. 

Zoe gives Evan a smile. “Never.”

Evan sleeps on the floor in Connor’s room that night. 

Zoe and Connor’s eyes meet the next morning, eating breakfast while their parents nurse hangovers. Evan sits and eats, quietly thanking their parents for having him over. 

“He’s okay?” Zoe asks quietly while she gets some coffee. 

Connor shrugs. “Hope so.” He spends most of Christmas Day with his phone in hand. Zoe sees that it’s Evan’s name that keeps lighting up his screen.


Zoe and Cat have a slumber party on New Year’s Eve. Zoe drops Connor at Evan’s to stay the night. His mom has to work and Evan’s rung in the last three new years by himself. Connor’s face twists up all funny when he find this out and he insists on coming over.

“What are you going to do?” Zoe asks as she drives Connor. 

“Normal sleepover stuff,” Connor says. “Arson. A little bit of wire fraud. Maybe cyberbully some freshmen.”

Zoe rolls her eyes at him. 

“We’ll probably just watch something on Netflix or whatever.” Connor shrugs. “I’m not… I dunno if I’m any good at this friendship shit.” 

Zoe gives her brother a serious look. “He won’t be alone on New Year’s Eve this year. That’s pretty good.” 

She isn’t positive, but she thinks that Connor’s cheeks go pink in the dark.


Things keep going in that way that things do. There’s school. Connor goes to therapy. The weather is cold and stays cold. Zoe goes to therapy. They have joint sessions with their parents, sessions that end in yelling and tears and make it hard for Zoe and Connor to look at each other because part of them will always know that the alternative to the screaming and the thousands of dollars of therapy is a burial plot in a lonely cemetery. 

February is a shitty, freezing month. Evan misses some school, but then he comes back. He looks terrible when he returns, and Connor makes way too big of a deal out of it. He keeps nudging Evan to drink more fluids the whole next week at school, until Evan snaps that it’s awfully rich to be nagged by someone who can’t be bothered to eat most days. 

Connor closes his mouth and says nothing. He doesn’t bother getting out of bed the next morning, despite Zoe and their mom trying to convince him. 

Evan looks horribly guilty at the lunch table that day. 

He comes over that night with two pints of ice cream, and eventually manages to coax Connor out of his bedroom. Connor looks wearily over at Zoe when their paths cross in the kitchen later. 

“He’s right,” Connor tells her, talking a long sip from a glass of water. “I… Food is. It’s sort of a thing.” 

Zoe nods. She knows. 

There’s another few trips to their therapists and their mom hires a nutritionist and Evan invests in a reusable water bottle so he doesn’t get dehydrated as much anymore. 


Zoe and Connor fight sometimes. Connor disappears for a weekend and she demands to know where the fuck he was. Their parents seem lost and don’t say much. Zoe says more than enough. She shouts herself hoarse, wanting to know where the fuck Connor was and what the fuck he was doing. 

“Just figuring some stuff out,” is the only explanation Connor provides. But he isn’t dead and that feels important. 

But they fight and they don’t really get anywhere. There’s nothing to win in the arguments. Connor is cagey and secretive. Zoe is scared out of her mind. Evan sometimes gets dragged into it, on long tense rides home from school, and then Connor accuses them of ganging up on him and Zoe doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say. 

Because he’s not wrong. 

They are ganging up on him. 

But he disappears, sometimes. Usually only for a few hours, but sometimes for a few days. And he never explains where he’s been. There’s no explanation and it shatters Zoe’s fried nerves. It pushes Evan to the point of breaking. 

“You can’t just - we’re supposed to be - you said we were friends, ” Evan accuses on one of those long tense rides home from school. 

And Connor gets really quiet. Says nothing and rests his head against the glass of the window. Zoe drops Evan off and then drives Connor home. He says nothing. Just stares out the window. 

Evan gets really quiet at school. Stops showing up at their lunch table. Connor’s been missing off and on too. One day Evan finds Zoe after jazz band. He’s tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

“What’s up?” She asks, shouldering her guitar case. 

“I… Connor hasn’t really been. Answering my texts?” He says. Tugs on his shirt some more. “Is he still mad at me…?”

Zoe has no idea. “I’ll find out,” she says. 

Evan gives her a weak smile and declines a ride home. 

Zoe knocks on Connor’s door after dinner that night. He opens it in that cautious way he usually does. 

“Are you here to yell some more?”

Zoe shakes her head. She goes to sit on Connor’s bed. “What’s going on with Evan?”

Connor shrugs. “Nothing.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. 

“Fine,” Connor says. He nudges his door closed. “I… We’re getting too close. He started talking about staying home next year. Not going away to college. I don’t want to… He can’t stay home.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows more. “Would that be so bad?” 

Connor frowns at her. A deep frown, one that makes him took a hell of a lot older than eighteen. “It’s how it started. When things were bad . When we both…” Connor shakes his head. “I can’t be the one who fucks his life up.”

Zoe can’t swallow for a moment. 

“He went and dropped out within the year,” Connor explains. He keeps forgetting Zoe only half knows this version. He saw more than she did. He knows more. “Because of me. I don’t want to do that to him.”

“You don’t know it was you,” She says sensibly. 

“I do, actually.” 

Zoe frowns. She pulls her knees to her chest. “What about you? What happens with you if he goes?” 

Connor tugs at his hair. “I’ll figure something out,” he says. “I just need to… I need him to go. To mean it.”

“It was his decision,” Zoe says reasonably. “You can’t try to change someone else’s choices. Trust me.”

Connor looks horribly hurt when she says that. “Yeah.” He rubs his cheek. 

Evan sleeps on Connor’s bedroom floor again that weekend. Zoe wonders about it but doesn’t say a word. 

Evan tells everyone at lunch later that week that he’s going to college in the city. Close enough to home. He got a decent financial aid offering. He’s nervous about having a roommate he doesn’t know, but excited because they have a good environmental science program.


Things speed up, then slow down. The end of the year happens in a rush. One minute it’s spring break and in a blink it’s finals and graduation and Connor has just barely managed to strike an agreement with the administration to officially graduate on time with promises of summer classes. 

Alana Beck gives a speech at graduation. Zoe sits between her parents and covertly launches a beach ball into the crowd when Connor’s name is called to cross the stage. A teacher grabs the ball away from jubilant graduates who keep volleying it through the air and genuinely deflates it by stabbing it with a pocket knife. Connor gives her a wide eyed grin from the stage as it all happens.

Her family invites the Hansens to join them for dinner. It’s just Evan and his mom; his dad didn’t fly in from Colorado. Evan doesn’t seem to mind. The six of them are all smiles at dinner. Even Connor and Zoe’s dad. 

“So, what’s next for you Connor?” Heidi asks politely. 

He ducks his head. He’s applied to go part time at the local community college, accepted pending him completing and passing his summer school classes. And he got a job at an Amazon warehouse. 

Their parents can hardly hide that they’re thrilled he’s doing anything. 

Heidi looks surprised to learn that Connor Murphy, with his wealthy parents and his high school diploma, is being allowed to work in a warehouse. But she doesn’t say anything. Just says she hopes he likes the new job. 

The summer is long and slow. Too hot. Zoe and Connor spend a lot of afternoons sticking their feet in a lake by their house. Evan joins them regularly. He’s working at Pottery Barn. He decided he didn’t want to go back to Ellison Park. Cat joins them sometimes too. 

They go to the festival grounds down by the lake in the middle of June for Pride. It’s mostly booths of local LGBTQ organizations and a giant dance floor, but Connor has a fake ID and everyone gets tipsy. The breeze off the lake is a little bit chilly, and the dance floor is hot, but the vodka-and-redbull drinks go down easily and everyone is laughing and giddy and having fun.  

Zoe doesn’t miss the wistful way that Evan watches her brother as they make friends with a baby drag queen and all of her friends. 

Zoe takes pity on him and throws an arm around Evan’s shoulders. “What’s up, buttercup?” She asks him, lips loose with liquor. 

Evan’s still watching Connor. He’s laughing with the baby drag queen who is trying to convince Connor to try walking in heels. Connor appears to be somewhat convinced; he sits down in the middle of the dance floor and starts yanking off his boots. 

“He just… Connor’s great,” Evan says hesitantly. 

Zoe tries not to smile. “He can be yeah,” she says. “When he’s not being a dumbass.”

Evan sighs. “I’m the - it’s definitely me. I’m the - the dumbass.”

“Don’t say that,” Zoe says immediately. 

“It’s true,” Evan says, a bit glumly. “I wasn’t even… I didn’t think I liked guys… It’s stupid. I’m stupid. He doesn’t see me like that.” 

Zoe sighs, because she knows that’s not true. She knows it so deeply. She knows it to the bone. “I think he’s just… scared to ruin things. Y’know? You guys are friends. He’s never really had a lot of those.”

Evan’s eyes go dimmer. Sadder. “Yeah,” He says, a little too quiet for Zoe to properly hear over the pounding music. “Me either.”

Connor wobbles over to them in the drag queen’s six inch platforms. “I could totally -” he nearly topples himself, but stays upright by throwing an arm around Evan’s neck, nearly strangling him in the process. “I could be a drag queen.”

Evan smiles at him, this bright smile. And Zoe’s heart aches when she watches Connor smile dopily back at him, keeping his arm around Evan’s shoulder while Evan keeps a steadying arm around Connor’s waist. In the heels Connor is a giant, far too close to seven feet tall, and he and Evan are giggling as they wobble over to the drag queen to dance some more. 

The next day, when they’re all nursing slight hangovers and heartburn and can’t stop finding new places that glitter has stuck to their skin, Zoe corners Connor in the kitchen. “He likes you,” Zoe says plainly. 

Connor frowns. “I know but… He can’t. He… It’s too much.”

“But you like him,” Zoe insists. 

“I’ll ruin it,” Connor mutters. 

“What was the point of all this if you don’t even get to be happy?” She says, frustrated. 

Connor’s eyes go a bit dull. “Since when was any of this about whether I was happy?”

It slices through her. 

She runs up to her room and slams the door and can’t bring herself to come out for hours. Zoe’s stomach clenches in guilt. She feels… Wrong.

Selfish. 

Guilty.

Was this ever about Connor? Or was it just because she never learned to move on? 

Did he do this for her? Was she pushing him unfairly?

Somewhere close to midnight, there’s a knock on her door. Zoe’s too exhausted and beat down to answer. She calls out, “Go away, mom! I’m trying to sleep.”

“Zo, come on,” Connor’s voice pleads. 

She can’t bring herself to open the door. She’s too afraid of what she’ll see. She sinks to the ground beside the door and wraps her arms around her legs. 

A moment later, she sees the light under the door shift. Change. Go dark. Like Connor’s sunk down in front of her door. He lets out a sigh. 

“I don’t… I don’t think I know how to be happy,” He admits in a small voice. A voice she can barely hear through the crack in the door. “I honestly… It’s like. I don’t even want to try? Because. I might be bad at it. I might… fuck up. And I’m used to… this. Feeling like shit. It’s not good but it’s… Fuck, I don’t even know if you’re fucking here, I just -”

Zoe slides her hand through the crack under the door. Her fingers rest on top of Connor’s. 

He’s quiet for a bit. 

“I’m scared to try to be happy,” He says softly. “I think I’m gonna screw it up. And then I’ll feel worse because… because I failed. Y’know?”

“Yeah,” Zoe says back. 

“I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want it to be how it was…” 

“Then don’t let it.”


And then somehow it’s August. It’s miserably hot, so hot that feet in the water doesn’t do much to cool them down. Connor seems lighter. Evan seems anxious. 

“I just don’t know if I’m cut out for college,” he admits one unbearably hot afternoon where they’ve given up on being outside and have retreated to the central air conditioning of the Murphy house. 

“Yes you are,” Connor says immediately. 

“Maybe I should delay a year,” he says. “Go next year. I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“And what, keep working at Pottery Barn?” Connor scoffs, like this idea is totally ludicrous. “You’re too smart for that.”

“Says the guy working for Jeff Bezos,” Evan mumbles. He seems irritated. Sad. Something Zoe can’t put her finger on. 

“Some of us don’t have the grades for college,” Connor remarks. 

“And some of us don’t have the stomach for it,” Evan replies through gritted teeth. He gets up abruptly. Announces he’s going home. 

Connor lets him go. Zoe turns to give him a questioning look. 

“I don’t understand why you have to push him away so hard,” She says. 

“I’m not trying,” Connor says, his face down. “But he’s gotta go. He needs to at least try.”

Zoe shuts her mouth. 

Evan leaves for college at the end of the summer. He doesn’t come around to say goodbye, which stings a little. He’s Zoe’s friend too. 

But then Zoe’s diving into her senior year. She’s seventeen. She doesn’t have a dead brother. She plays in the jazz band and does her homework and Connor comes home and bitches about how they basically time his piss breaks at work. 

But he seems okay. Maybe a bit lonely. 

But alive. 

The fall passes so quickly. One minute it’s September and Connor has been Not Dead for year. A whole year. Everything is so different and yet totally the same.

Then somehow, it’s Halloween, and Connor stands awkwardly in Zoe's doorway and asks if she wants to go to a party. 

“Whose party?”

“Some guy Evan knows. He’s too nervous to go by himself and his roommate keeps getting drunk and ditching him.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “So you’re talking again?”

Connor looks down at his feet. “I just...” He rubs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t… I don’t want to hurt him.” He takes a breath. “But I… I miss him.”

Zoe waits. 

“And like… what’s the point of me even, like, being here if I’m just… fucking miserable? Like, miserable on purpose. I'm making myself miserable, and I keep doing it, and like. That makes like. No sense. I want to, y'know, cut that out.”

Zoe smiles. 

“Shut up, nobody asked you,” Connor gripes.

Zoe agrees to go to the party. Because Connor is nervous to see Evan alone.

They stop and buy silly costumes at Target. Zoe gets a onesie that looks like a skeleton. Connor gets one that looks like a giraffe. 

When they get to Evan’s dorm, he looks relieved. He’s dressed as Arthur from the cartoon, and when Connor sees it Zoe watches his face go all soft. 

“I’m so glad you guys are here,” Evan says, and he looks nervous as he says it, like maybe there’s a chance they’ll change their minds and leave. 

“Of course we’re here!” Zoe says firmly, and she pulls Evan into a hug. 

The party is at the house of someone that Evan knows, and when they get there, despite Evan’s worries about going by himself, they’re all immediately swept into a conversation with the host. There’s a drinking game that Zoe’s never played before and a lot of laughter and before long she’s pulled into a conversation with some girl who knows Evan from their freshman comp class. They’re talking about music and how this girl wants to start a band, and across the room she watches Connor pull Evan into a hug and something inside her feels warm. 

Because Evan hugs him back. 

Because Connor isn’t alone. He’s here. He doesn’t want to actively be miserable anymore. And Zoe… she realizes that she’s free. 

Connor has been her responsibility. He’s been her burden, her unresolved grief. He’s been the thing she’s carried around for forever, across time and reality. 

But he’s just a person. A kid, just turned nineteen, who was lonely and troubled but made the conscious choice and effort to try. 

And Zoe… she’s just a kid too. 

And she’s finally free. 

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders falling loose and the tightness in her chest briefly unbearable. She’s free. 

“Are you alright?” Asks the girl next to her. 

And Zoe smiles despite the sting in her eyes. “Yeah. I think I am.”