Instructions for the End of the World Read Online Free PDF Page A

come.

 
    Three
    LAUREL
    I can tell no one how happy I am that Annika has come home.
    Who would understand?
    Not Wolf, who sees his mother’s presence as a noose around his neck.
    Not Annika, who has never known what she really is to me.
    Not my parents, who left fourteen years ago in an acid-trip haze and never bothered to send so much as a postcard.
    Every time I see Annika since her return, conflicted feelings well up. Joy, yes, but also disappointment, and something unnamable.
    I hover outside her door, my hand poised to knock, but I can hear the lilt of her German accent, worn soft by half a lifetime here, as she talks to someone. She laughs, and my heart pushes against my rib cage. She has been back for almost two weeks and I haven’t had a moment alone with her.
    I hear the low rumble of a male voice in the room with her, and my hand drops to my side. She already has a boyfriend, only two weeks home? Maybe it’s just a friend, but this idea rings false as soon as I think it.
    Annika is not the kind of woman men can be friends with. She’s too beautiful.
    In fact, Wolf’s mother is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It’s legendary, her beauty, the stuff of Greek myths.
    When I was younger, in all my fantasies, she was my mother. Wolf was like my brother, only I wished he wasn’t around at all, so I could have all of Annika’s attention. I was greedy like that.
    I still am.
    She has her own private cabin at the north end of the village, which sat empty for the year she was gone. She is one of the original members of Sadhana, and such longevity comes with privileges. Also, Mahesh has a thing for her, I think. He will give Annika whatever she wants, including private cabins no one else can stay in, not even her own son.
    So it disgusts me a little to think of some random dude in there with her, his body oil soiling her pristine sheets, his presence ruining any hope I had of an hour alone with her. I just wanted to ask her to have breakfast with me. Coffee, or tea. I wanted to ask her about rehab and tell her about my life and have her look at me like she cares that I’m alive.
    I should know better than to want any of this, but I can’t help myself.
    I turn and start to walk away, when the lock on the door clicks and the door swings open, startling me. Heat rushes to my face, as if I’ve been caught in the act of doing something wrong. It’s the guy, some rumpled Rastafarian with dreadlocks down to his waist, a scruffy beard, and a T-shirt that reads, “I’m a soldjah in Jah army.” There are pillow creases still on his cheek.
    He blinks at me, and before I can hurry away, Annika steps into the doorway and sees me too.
    â€œLaurel, liebling ! What a surprise!”
    â€œOh hi,” I say, my voice jittery.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” She smiles, perplexed.
    â€œI … was just stopping to see if you’d had breakfast yet,” I say, because I can’t think of a lie.
    â€œI haven’t, no.”
    The Rastafarian leans in and kisses Annika hard on the lips. “I’m out,” he says, no trace of a Jamaican accent, which makes his appearance seem like he’s wearing a costume. “I’ll leave you ladies to your morning.”
    He walks away, and suddenly I have what I wanted.
    â€œI was just going to go over to the cafeteria. You want to come with?”
    I hate how weak and hopeful my voice sounds.
    She runs a hand over her long, blond hair and gives the idea a moment’s thought. “How about I drive us to town for breakfast out?” she says. “That way we can have some peace and quiet.”
    This is more than I could have dared ask for. The cafeteria will be full of people who know Annika and will stop and talk to her, which means I will be lucky to get in ten minutes of alone time with her. But an entire ride to town and back, a sit-down breakfast where we look at menus and wait for