I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at the mess I’d made. I sat in the dark, and I waited for the worst of it to be over. I’d been alone for years. I’d been cleaning things up on my own for as long as I could remember.
This was nothing new.
I waited for it to pass.
It wouldn’t stick.
* * *
The next night, I came back.
I had a bottle of wine in one hand, and a bag of takeout pho in the other.
I passed by the door to my apartment—no, not mine. Sylvia’s. I’d stayed there, but it wasn’t mine. It never had been. I reminded myself, and it didn’t sting as badly as I thought it would. Already, it was less raw. Soon it would turn into a new bruise to press, a bone-deep ache that would throb every time I remembered the place that had never been my home.
I passed by the door to that apartment, which was empty now.
I passed by the door and kept on going, around the courtyard, to the door I wanted. I tucked the wine under one arm and knocked.
Rahul didn’t answer. I knocked again. No sounds came from inside.
I sat down on the porch to wait for him, the bottle between my palms, the takeout hot against my thigh. He would come home from work, and I would find out if he was willing to hear an explanation. Maybe he wouldn’t be interested—maybe I would leave, drive back up to my neighborhood. Check in with the bartender. Weave home later than I’d planned. Lie awake in the dark pressing on bruises.
But maybe he would be willing to hear an apology. Maybe he would be willing to let me try.
I watched as the late-afternoon light went gold, then gray. I waited.
Maybe this time, I would stick. Maybe this time I would tell the truth.
Maybe this time would be different.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To DongWon Song, my agent and friend, who knew I could do this, and who I would follow to the bottom of the sea;
To Miriam Weinberg, my editor, whose brilliance astonishes me, and who I can trust to ask me for more until there’s no more left to demand;
To my critique and thought partners, Sarah Hollowell and Sharon Hsu, without whom my soul and brain can’t function;
To Mom and Dad and Rachel and Katie and Scott and Mathew and Becca and Amy;
To Ryan and Christina, who hold my heart together;
To Jonathan, who has known every good version of me and some of the bad ones;
To Meg, who paints the sky and makes my brain go quiet;
To Dominik, who can see the person I’m becoming and who doesn’t let me hide from the truth;
To Minerva and Aaron, for being kind and for loving my dogs;
To every iteration of the cabin retreat crew—Mark Oshiro, Camden Tayler, Jeeyon Shim, Stacey Matthews, Adam Winn, and of course, our neighbor Dick;
To Sarah Williamson, for walking me through the way things work;
To my queer community, for finding me when I so desperately needed you, and for loving me as I find my way;
To the MurderFriends, to the coven, to PQ, to the group text;
To Team DongWon—we’re taking over the world, and I’m so lucky to be along for the ride with all of you;
To Hank and Pepper Jack, who are best friends with each other first, and who loved me even when I postponed walks to finish revisions;
To everyone who helped me get through the chapter of my life when everything changed, including the entirety of this book—to everyone who helped me pack, who took me in, who put me up, who watched me cry, who kept me safe, who bought me drinks, who believed me and gave me the gift of patience while I tried (and sometimes failed) to keep it together;
To everyone who has ever loved any of the versions of me that I’ve been;
To those versions of me, who were growing and searching and scared and brave:
Thank you.
ALSO BY SARAH GAILEY
American Hippo: River of Teeth, Taste of Marrow, and New Stories
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hugo and Campbell finalist SARAH GAILEY came onto the scene in 2015 and has since become one of the sharpest, funniest voices in pop culture online, going viral frequently for their stories and joie de vivre. They are a regular contributor to multiple websites including Tor.com, where their Women of Harry Potter series was named a Hugo finalist for Best Related Work. Gailey’s nonfiction has appeared in Mashable and The Boston Globe, and they write short fiction for various popular outlets.
Twitter: @gaileyfrey
Visit her online at www.sarahgailey.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Acknowledgments
Also by Sarah Gailey
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
MAGIC FOR LIARS
Copyright © 2019 by Sarah Gailey
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Will Staehle
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-17461-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-17460-4 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250174604
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First Edition: June 2019