Pass me By (BFF Series Book 1)

by Kyra Fox

  “No, Eric, you can’t think like that.” I kiss his cheek and his lips. I don’t know the whole story, but I’m starting to piece together the little I do know with what he just told me, and the picture it paints of Eric’s childhood is rattling. Heartbreaking beyond anything he’s let me see. “You took care of her and Philip for years.”

  He shakes his head and is about to answer when we hear someone near us clearing his throat. We look up and a middle-aged man wearing a white coat, the doctor I assume, is standing next to us.

  “Dr. Gerard.” Eric takes my hand, and we both stand.

  “Mr. Mackenzie.” Dr. Gerard nods in acknowledgment of my presence, his lips turning slightly up to convey he’s happy someone’s here for Eric. “As we’ve discussed, due to the circumstances of your mother’s death, we had to alert the local police.”

  “Yeah, they’ve talked to me already, said if the toxicology report matches my account of the events, it’s an open and shut case.”

  “We have to hold on to your mothers’ body until we get an official statement from Boston PD that the case is closed.”

  “Do you know how long that will take?” Eric is shifting on his feet, forcing himself to hold the doctor’s eyes.

  “I assure you that from our side we’ll send all the documentation out by tomorrow morning to the PD, but I can’t make any promises in their name.” Dr. Gerard looks at him with sympathy written all over his face. “There’s nothing more you can do here, Son, you should go home, get some rest.”

  “I’ll talk to my dad, maybe he can call in some favors, pull some strings, get the PD to push your mothers’ case up the priority list.” I squeeze his hand and Eric nods.

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Dr. Gerard nods and hands him a copy of the paperwork before returning to the ER.

  “Hey.” I turn Eric to face me. “Let’s go home.”

  “Okay.” His eyes are dim like someone turned off the lights, and I practically pull him to the car, he’s moving like his legs are full of lead.

  My mind is reeling. The man I love is in pieces, and I don’t know how to help him. Worse than that—I’m not sure I can.

  MAC

  I let Zoe lead me to her car, seat me in the passenger side, and buckle me in. All the way home, I fight the claustrophobic feeling from sitting in such a small confined space.

  When we pull into her parking space, I unbuckle myself and open the passenger side door. I can’t stumble out of the car fast enough. Zoe steps out of the car and places a hand on my back.

  I start walking toward the apartment, hearing her heels click as she walks behind me in silence. We ride the elevator in silence too, go through the door in silence.

  “I’ll make us tea.” Zoe finally speaks and steers me to the loveseat where I sink down, emotionally exhausted and nod although I don’t even like tea. A few minutes later, Zoe is beside me with two steaming mugs and hands me one.

  “Thank you.” I nod and take a small sip, coughing with surprise, and looking up at Zoe.

  “I made it a Hot Toddy,” she provides. “Had a feeling you could use it.”

  I nod again, feeling all the emotions of the day rushing up from where I’d pushed them down, punching me in the gut, getting stuck in my throat and welling up in my eyes. Zoe takes my mug and places it on the coffee table next to hers, tentatively placing her hand on mine.

  “I’m here.” That’s all it takes to bring down the last of my restraint, and I feel a sob escape my clenched throat, and the tears break free. Zoe pulls me down, so my head rests in her lap. I’m curled on my side, my arms circling my stomach, and my knees folded almost touching my chest.

  Zoe holds me as I sob, listens in silence as I tell her about my mom, tell her things about myself that I’ve been trying to keep away from our relationship for the past month and a half.

  How my mom got knocked up at eighteen while on a mania-induced sex rampage, and when her parents kicked her out, the man who had gotten her pregnant tried to do the right thing by taking us in. But three years after I was born, enough time for me to vaguely remember the presence of a father in my life, the man was fed up with my mom’s mood swings and left us without a roof over our heads. Abandoning me alone with a bipolar woman who refused treatment, never to be heard of or seen again, which was when we came to Boston.

  My grip tightens around my knees as I recount how I had found my mom OD’d on the couch for the first time when I was five. She’d gotten knocked up again and had spiraled into her mania, trying to take her own life. That was the first of at least half a dozen times I had found her over the years.

  She had gotten pregnant a few times more, she always aborted, but then when I was six and a half, she told me, “We’re keeping this one.” That’s how, at the age of seven and two months, I became a big brother, swearing to always protect Philip, even from our own mother.

  Then, when Philip was eighteen months old, I had to convince Miss Audrey, the lonely widow next door whose children and grandchildren barely ever visited her, not to call social services when my mom left us with her for three straight weeks, because I didn’t want us to be separated. Because I knew my mom needed me and they’d take me away from her.

  Talking about Miss Audrey manages to bring a small smile to my face, telling Zoe how she took me under her wing and taught me to cook, clean, pay bills and fix things around the house brings fond memories. The only ones I have from back then. She gave me my first paying job helping her around her house and with the groceries and cooking. Taught me how to play chess, giving me bonuses when I’d get good grades, and eventually when her sight started to deteriorate, she paid me to read to her. Books I never would have read on my own. I can’t help but look at Zoe when I say how thankful I am to her to this day that she exposed me to that world, made me an educated man despite never receiving a formal education.

  All the while, my mom could barely keep a job, lasting up to a few months each time between episodes of mania and sometimes depression. Not to mention putting food on the table or manage a household or follow her children’s academic achievements. She kept refusing treatment, and I was left to take care of her and Philip too, so by the time I was fifteen, I had to go out and get a real job because we needed to pay rent, buy clothes and shoes and heating and food. Buy Philip books for school and pay for his extra-curriculum activities. And what Miss Audrey was paying me just wasn’t enough anymore.

  It’s a bitter-sweet memory, the day Lenny took me in. It’s the day I became a real man who provided for the ones he loves. But also the day I realized I would have to give up my dreams of college, my dreams of traveling, my dreams of dreaming and aspiring for anything other than the survival and betterment of the people I love. Dredging up those desires I’ve long buried makes my stomach churn, and I feel like throwing up, so I lift my head a bit off Zoe’s lap, taking a sip of my Toddy to relax my stomach before resuming the comforting position.

  I keep spilling, remembering how seven years ago was another one of those bitter-sweet days. When Miss Audrey passed, and I learned that she had added my name to the lease of her rent-controlled apartment, effectively relieving me from the crazy financial burden of rent. When the three of us moved next door into her place, and I could finally start saving some money for my own benefit.

  But the worst part was trying to protect Philip from the fallout of our mother’s disease. I pushed him to get good grades and participate in as many extra-curricular activities as he wanted and be any kind of athlete as long as he was a good one. He was thankfully a natural at running track, it got him accepted into a good college on a sports scholarship.

  Philip also got a part-time job as a barista and scored some additional financial aid. And him standing on his own feet did a great service in means of freeing some of my finances, allowing me to finally move out to my own place last year and still help our mom pay the rent on Miss Audrey’s apartment. I also managed to convince her to get treatment. She was really sticking to it this time, or
so I thought.

  “That’s a lot for one person to carry on their own.” Zoe’s fingers are mussing up my hair with gentle strokes.

  Something suddenly dawns on me.

  “I haven’t called Philip,” I whisper in a croaky voice.

  “You should go into the bedroom, have some privacy when you tell him.” Zoe presses her lips to my temple, and I place my hand on the back of her head, holding her, so she lingers there for just a few more seconds, giving me a little more much-needed strength.

  Then I sit up, take a large sip from an already cold Toddy, and pick up my phone. Walking into the bedroom and closing the door behind me without bothering to turn the light on, I decide against sitting on the bed, choosing to lean on the window overlooking the street instead.

  Philip answers after a few rings, distinct sounds of a party playing in the background.

  “Hey, big brother!” He sounds in an elated mood and slightly inebriated. “I was just making a move on this blonde, legs to die for, so your girl problems will have to wait for tomorrow.”

  I take a deep breath which comes out shaky, and Philip must notice because I can hear him push through the noise until he’s somewhere quiet, presumably outside.

  “What’s going on, Eric?” I figure it’s a rip the plaster off situation, no easy way to break the news, so I just blurt it out.

  “Mom’s dead, Phil.” The declaration is met with silence. “Philip?”

  “Yeah, still here.” His voice is wavering as if he’s putting up a fight to stay level. “I’ll start driving in the morning, should be home in four days, is that okay?” He doesn’t ask what happened, he doesn’t need to.

  “Yeah, that’s okay.” I don’t mention that I’m not sure the police will close the case by then. I figure even if Zoe’s dad pulls through and they do, the extra few days will give me a chance to work out from where to scrape up extra cash to pay for a proper service.

  “Eric…” Philip hesitates, but ultimately must have decided what he wants to say is important enough, “is Zoe with you?”

  “She picked me up from the hospital.”

  “Good. That’s good.” I can hear Philip sigh with relief. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  “See you soon, Phil.” We hang up, and I sink to the floor, my arms on my knees and my head leaning back on the wall. I sit there for a while, lost in thought before the door cracks open, letting in a slither of light.

  “Eric?” Zoe walks toward me carefully, as if she were approaching an injured animal, and sits next to me on the floor, mimicking my position.

  “Philip will be here in four days.”

  “Okay.” She turns her head toward me. “I talked to my dad; he’ll make sure the police wrap it up quickly.”

  “Zoe?” I don’t know what I’m asking, just that I desperately need something only she can give me, something I can’t name.

  “I’m here.” Those were the words that she said on the couch that unraveled me.

  She’s being strong for me; I can’t remember the last time anyone had been strong for me rather than the other way around. I learned not to depend on other people, not to rely on other’s strength for myself. Everything I have, I earned with hard work, by being a trustworthy person, by paying my dues.

  But I don’t have it in me to resist the comfort Zoe is offering. I’m broken, and Zoe’s there to pick up the pieces and put me back together in the better version of myself that I am when I’m with her.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel dread at the thought of Zoe touching the rawest parts of my soul, and a seed of doubt saying it’s a mistake to let her in so deep plants itself in my gut. But I don’t have any fight left in me to latch on to that thought nor to root it out, so I just let it be.

  Pulling Zoe into my lap, I bury my face into the crook of her neck. She throws her arms around me, running her fingers through my hair and holding me tight while letting me cry, more quietly this time.

  When the tears finally dry out, Zoe leads me to the shower and helps me with my clothes because I’m just too exhausted to undress myself. I’m sure I’m tapped out but as Zoe caresses me under the warm water with so much gentleness and care I find I was wrong.

  She holds me the entire time, long after the jet-stream turns cold, and when I’m out of tears she wraps me in one of her big fluffy towels, a blue one this time, and dries my hair, leading me to bed and lying next to me naked, kissing my burning eyes and soothing the creases on my face.

  I feel depleted. Empty. The only thing keeping me grounded, pouring a semblance of humanity into the hollow in my chest, are the vibrations of Zoe’s steady heartbeat. I lay there with my head on her chest, letting myself get lost in the rhythm, enveloped in her warmth until I finally find sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ZOE

  “I think Philip needs to get out of the apartment.” I’m sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at Eric as he irons his suit for the funeral tomorrow.

  My dad came through, and the body was released earlier today. A police officer roughly my age was assigned to walk us through the process, probably because of my dad’s involvement, but I didn’t mind. He was really nice; didn’t act like we were an inconvenient chore but rather like he was glad he was able to help us.

  Philip arrived yesterday, he’s staying in Phoebe’s old room, and he’s been stalking around the apartment with a gloomy face. He and Eric haven’t really talked; they just keep tiptoeing around the giant elephant in the room, but I can sense that Philip really needs to unload.

  “Okay, I’ll take him somewhere.” Eric isn’t looking at me, he’s going over the pants for the third time, even though he smoothed out all the creases long ago.

  “I think I should take him.” I move off the bed and place a hand on Eric’s arm, forcing him to stop his frantic ironing. “Alone.”

  “Zo…” I shake my head and raise my hand to shush him.

  “No, Eric, don’t argue.” I’m determined that he’s going to listen to me. “I know you want to protect Philip, but you’re doing exactly the opposite by hovering over him.”

  “I don’t want to be alone,” he admits after a long pause, and I throw my arms around him, pulling him into a big hug.

  “I know, that’s why I called Brian.” I give him a peck on the lips. “He should be here by now.”

  “Well, you just have it all figured out, huh?” Eric smiles at me with half reprimand half adoration.

  “No.” I kiss him again. “But I do overthink everything, sometimes it proves itself useful.”

  Eric tightens his grip around my waist and dips his head down, kissing me deeply as I melt into his arms.

  “One beer.” He raises an eyebrow in warning.

  “He’s nineteen and in college, Eric. I’m sure he can handle a couple of beers.”

  “He’s nineteen and hurting.” A flash of worry and pain crosses Eric’s green eyes. “He won’t be able to limit himself.”

  “I’ll take good care of him, Babe.” I caress his cheek in an attempt to reassure him. “He’s family.”

  So many emotions cross Eric’s face at my simple statement that I lose track. He’s overwhelmed, I guess, because all he can manage is a small nod.

  I take his hand in mine, and we go out to the living room, where Brian and Philip are animatedly discussing the Celtics.

  “You,” I point at Philip. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Beer?” Eric offers Brian, who nods and turns the TV on, flipping through the channels until he finds a reasonable game to watch.

  “Uh, okay.” Philip questioningly looks at Eric, who just raises his hands in surrender.

  “She makes the rules.” He grabs two Blue Moon’s from the fridge and drops on the couch next to Brian. “She even called me a babysitter.”

  “She had to offer double my usual rate,” Brian chimes in, “so I’d agree to watch over you, Asshole.” Brian never takes his eyes off the game, but he’s smirking, as is Eric, the first
genuine smile I’ve seen decorate his face since his mom passed. And it occurs to me that maybe this is a better idea than I realized. Not just for Philip’s benefit but for Eric’s as well.

  “Finally decided to trade up, Zo?” Philip seems to pick up on the teasing vibe in the room, the lightened mood bringing out that happy-go-lucky charm in him as he places his arm over my shoulder. “Realized you’ve been settling for the wrong Mackenzie brother?”

  “Shut up, Prick.” Eric throws a cushion at his brother. “Get out of here before I kick your ass for touching my girlfriend.”

  It feels good to see them like this. It puts my mind at ease that it really is just a matter of time before things go back to normal. It’s going to be a rough ride, but at least I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now.

  “Want to go to Baron’s or do you prefer neutral ground?” I ask when Philip and I are out of the apartment.

  “Is Bitsie working tonight?” I nod. “Then let’s go there, maybe I’ll get some sympathy shots.”

  I laugh and shake my head as we make our way out to my car. “I’ve been instructed to let you have only one beer.”

  Philip snorts. “Yeah, right. Eric does know he isn’t my dad, right?”

  I turn to face Philip.

  “He’s worried you’ll drink your feelings.” I cross my arms over my breasts. “I promised him I wouldn’t let you. Are you going to make a liar out of me, Phil?”

  “No, ma’am.” He looks at his shoes, his face guilt-ridden.

  “Good. Let’s go.” I fire off a warning text to Bitsie and climb into the driver’s seat.

  Philip has his head resting on the window as he stares at the passing buildings. He seems lost in thought, and I stay silent, giving him space.

  “I hate Boston,” he blurts out all of a sudden. “It’s so cold and gray.”