I picked up my phone. “Got her.”
Twenty minutes later, I pushed a passed-out Maybe-Haedyn into the girls’ apartment on a wobbly, rolling desk chair. Steve shoved a glittery pile of clothing onto the floor, then gestured to the now clear space. I tipped Maybe-Haedyn onto the cushions. “Wow. This place is Forever 21 after the apocalypse.”
There were empty pizza boxes, beer cans, and piles of clothes flung on every available surface. “Right?” Steve said. “Guys get so much shit for being slobs, but this is some Mad Max–like destruction here.”
“Is there a bed anywhere?” I asked.
“I think I saw a mattress on the floor in the bedroom, but it might just have been a pile of laundry. I made Weepy a nest.”
I nodded. “Well, I guess that’s—”
“Ooooooh!” Steve interrupted. “I got it! Your perfect moment is watching the last iceberg melt in Alaska and the impending planetary doom gets you so horny you fall into each other’s arms and start humping!”
I groaned. “I don’t know, okay?” Steve was just being Steve, but every time he made a guess, I relived every moment with Kaia where I had messed up. “That’s the problem. I thought I had the right moment. A few times. But then something would happen. And I’d have to wait for another chance. For a moment where I could . . .” What was I hoping would happen? “I could . . .”
“Guarantee success?” Steve was watching me carefully, his arm resting on a bookcase. I looked away.
“Go home, Uber drivers,” Maybe-Haedyn mumbled from the couch, then rolled over. “Haedyn sleep sleep now.”
“I knew she looked like a Haedyn!” I grinned at Steve, who returned my look with mild confusion. “Anyway . . .”
I started to walk to the door. Steve grabbed my arm as I passed. “So what if Kaia said no? Would it kill you?” The look on my face must have said enough. Steve ran his hand over his bald head. “Well, I’ll give you one thing, Cam. You really do care about shit.”
We stared at each other for a moment.
There was a clatter in the kitchen. We turned. Maybe-Nika stumbled into the living room, an empty family-sized bag of potato chips clutched in her fist, burrito sauce still on her face.
“I need some fucking bacon cheese fries!”
Steve squealed, “Run, Cam! Ruuuuuuuuun!”
17
We took the stairs two at a time, checking behind us to see if we were being chased. And we were laughing. Both of us. Which was really weird, because it felt natural in a way I’d never imagined it could.
We reached the central courtyard of the apartment complex and caught our breath. The windows of most of the other apartments were dark, though a few glowed yellow through their drawn curtains. “I feel terrible for whoever’s on call for Postmates tonight,” I said.
“Wow, that was like half a joke, Cam. You deserve a prize.” He reached into his pants and pulled out a sparkly headband with kitty ears and placed it gently on my head.
“Did you steal that?”
“I wanted a memento to commemorate the night. I got one for me, too.” He pulled a second one out and placed it on his head. “Despite the fact that you are a complete asshole, that was fucking fun.” Still breathing heavy, he put his hands on his knees. “God, I used to be able to wrangle three crazy girls no problem. This cancer is no joke. I gotta sit down.” He wandered over to the community pool, pulled off his shoes and socks, and stuck his feet in.
I inspected the stairwell back up toward the girls’ apartment, still afraid they might make an appearance. Meanwhile, Steve pulled out some weed, took a long drag, and exhaled. A plume of smoke drifted into invisibility. Concern jumped in my stomach. “Are you feeling nauseous?”
“No. I’m fine. Relax. This is the only cancer perk I have,” he said, and brought it to his lips again.
I was relieved and let myself relax. It had been a crazy night. And I had been such an idiot. But with the rest of the apartment complex asleep, the quiet of the night and the damp air were inviting. I looked down at Steve and his kitty ears illuminated by the pool light and thought maybe I’d join him. I slid off my shoes.
Steve took another puff. “Well, this definitely beats a night at home.”
“Really?” I said as I dipped my bare feet into the warm pool. “I’m surprised you’d want to leave your fancy new man cave.”
“Dude, that’s all my dad.” The way he said it echoed his anger from the bee café. I thought I’d better not push it.
“It’s cool. You don’t have to explain.”
We had already been through enough tonight. We didn’t need another fight. Instead we sat in a long silence. Steve let out a tired exhale.
“I mean, you’ve heard them fighting. My mom’s pissed he spent all that money on the room, but Dad tells her that I shouldn’t be worried about bills and stuff because staying positive is more important. After I set up the foundation, he wanted to make sure I got something fun for myself. I need to keep”—and he switched into his “dad voice”—“killing it. He’s not some cancer kid, Cheryl.”
“Your dad seems like he doesn’t worry about much.”
Steve laughed. “He’s worried to death. If it doesn’t look like I’m living it up, he thinks I’m dying, and when he thinks I’m dying . . . Jesus . . .” He put his head down. The weight of all the effort he was putting in living up to his dad’s expectations bore down on him. “I’m just glad my cancer’s one of the good ones. I don’t know what I’d do if I was actually terminal or whatever.”
“I’d think you’d be kind of worried about yourself then.”
“You’d think that, right? But I actually think I’d be more worried about them. I mean, I’d be dead so who cares, but they’d have to live the rest of their lives with a dead son. Fuck, that’s the worst.”
“I guess I never thought of that.” I also never thought Steve would sound so selfless. I stared at him for a moment to see if he really was the same Steve.
Then he looked up at me. “What would your parents do if you died?”
“It’s just me and my mom. My dad left when I was seven.”
“Left? Like you don’t see him anymore?” Steve took a long inhale.
“Yep. I think he moved to Georgia or something. I don’t care. It’s not like he’s in contact. It’s better this way.”
“Really?” Steve exhaled, sending a cloud of smoke over the surface of the pool.
“I mean, yeah, there was, like, this black hole for a while after he left. Like a space where he used to be. But it went away. And he was an asshole. Even a black hole in my life is better than an asshole.” Steve looked at me like he didn’t quite believe me and for a moment, I wasn’t quite sure I believed myself. I shook off the thought. “But my mom? If I died? I can’t even imagine.” The thought of my mom without me seemed impossible. It actually hurt too much to consider. “I can’t die.”
“I don’t think that’s your choice.”
“No, seriously, I mean, she’s, like . . . she takes so much pride in what I do. I’m like a vindication that she didn’t need my dad.” I tried to think of a situation where my death wouldn’t completely destroy her. “Okay, maybe if I went out for some noble cause, like jumping in front of a school shooter or saving a village from Ebola.”
“Both likely.”
“But if it was something like alcohol poisoning at a frat party, she might move away and pretend she never had a kid.”
“She sounds intense,” he said with a hint of sympathy.
“You should talk,” I said. It was weird to have something in common with Steve. I wondered if he felt the same. For a moment we both watched the water lap against the chipped tile of the pool.
Steve offered his weed to me.
“What? I don’t. I mean, I’m totally for legalization and think it’s ridiculous that people believe alcohol is safer. Not to mention the medicinal benefits of CBD . . .”
“Man, you’re exhausting,” he said, taking a hit to counterac
t my babbling.
I laughed at myself. “Sorry.”
“Are all your friends this fun?”
The question caught me off guard. “Yes. No . . . I mean . . .” My stomach clenched. “They’re fun . . . Not like yours . . .” My breathing got shorter. “I’m so busy and . . . there’s not a lot of time . . . We mainly hang out at protests . . . City council meetings . . .”
“You don’t have any friends, do you?”
“Of course I do. I just told you.”
“Friends don’t just sign petitions together.”
“Whatever,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “I don’t see a ton of people hanging out with you anymore.” I winced as soon as I said it, but Steve didn’t seem to care.
“So? I don’t want anyone to see me lying around puking into a bucket. I mean, at least not from chemo. They’ve seen me do it plenty of times from tequila.” He laughed, but it was half-hearted. He kicked at the water and watched the ripples float away.
“Did any of them even ask to come by?” I said as sensitively as I could.
“At the beginning some of them did. But most of them didn’t. And it’s been a while since anyone asked.” I didn’t know what to say. How could they abandon him like that? As if he heard my thoughts, he answered, “I think they were happy you were doing all the work for them.” He said it casually, but the pain in his voice was unavoidable. “Fuck . . . Cam, does that mean you’re my only friend?” I tried to find the sarcasm or mockery in his voice, but it wasn’t there.
“I don’t think we’re friends,” I joked, but wished I hadn’t.
“You’re probably right. You did just try to steal my girlfriend. And you’re trying to save that shark.”
“What’s the shark got to do with anything?”
“I need your shark to stay in that tank. That big fish is my whole cancer backup plan. I always figured if shit went sideways, I’d just take a nice dive into old sharky’s lair and call it a day.”
“You’re going to kill yourself by shark?” I asked, only half joking, because he seemed half serious.
“Awesome, right? I wouldn’t have to watch my parents fall apart as I waste away. I’d go fast and furious. And I mean, I kind of think my dad would even be proud of that. His boy didn’t die of cancer, but of a glorious shark attack!” He laughed, but his shoulders dropped and he looked down. It seemed like he wished he could take the whole thing back. Like he had said too much. Been too honest. The way I always was.
I thought about putting my arm around him, but then worried it would be weird. Or worse, that he’d shrug it off. Instead we stared at the sparkling pool and let its reflection dance on our faces.
“You sure we’re not f-friends?” he stuttered. Maybe we were after all? Was that possible? Why did the thought of it not repel me? Why did it actually feel kind of nice?
As I considered this, he slumped onto my arm as if he’d passed out.
“Oh. Ha ha. I’m the one who should be passing out. Being friends with you . . .” I nudged him, but he refused to let up on his joke. His kitten ears tickled my face. “You’re really committing to this, huh?” I shoved him harder, but he just fell back on my arm and the kitten ears fell off. I resisted my urge to panic. That’s what he wanted. I checked his face but didn’t see even a hint of a smile. “Seriously, this is not funny.” I added some intensity to my voice, but didn’t want him to think I’d actually fallen for it.
No response.
“Steve? Really?”
He moaned.
“I’m not falling for that again.”
But his face looked ashen and there was no way he could fake that, could he? Were things going “sideways” right now? I listened for his breathing and was relieved to hear it. Then his eyes fluttered open. “Cam? I don’t . . .” The sound of his voice was the clincher. It sounded so weak and thin. Maybe he was that amazing an actor. Maybe he was going to pop up in a second and laugh his ass off at my overreaction. But, screw it, my gut told me I had to do something. And if it turned out he was faking it, then we were definitely not friends.
I pulled out my phone. “I’m going to call an ambulance.”
“No . . .” My suggestion stirred him, but he still seemed unsteady.
“Fuck yes.”
He found just enough strength to sit up and took a deep breath. “Don’t bother. S’happened before. Fine. Just a side effect. Get dizzy sometimes. Sexy, right?”
“Nothing about this is fine!”
“Just take me home. Please.” My finger hovered over the call button, but now that he was conscious, maybe it was better to get him in the car. It would take forever for an ambulance. And I could always take him to the emergency room if it got worse.
I helped him up and he took my arm to help stabilize himself. “Your elbows are really soft,” he observed.
“My mom moisturizes them while I sleep.”
“Fucking . . . intense . . . ,” he said weakly, and we made our way to my car.
I raced down Victoria Avenue, relieved that the streets were empty and not caring about the cops. Getting pulled over actually sounded like a decent idea at this point. They’d see how Steve was and make him go to the hospital. But, slumped against the car door, he kept insisting I take him home.
“I’m gonna be fine.”
“Is it hard to breathe?” I asked, splitting my attention between him and the road.
“Just tired.”
“Okay. We’ll get you home. Just don’t . . . No going sideways, got it?”
He didn’t respond, just looked away. Little blooms of mist came and went on the window with his nose pressed against it.
This was exactly what would happen, wouldn’t it? I’d make a friend and then he’d die. And I’d have killed him by taking him out and trying to frame him. By being an asshole. “Just don’t die, okay? Please. I’m sorry I tried to steal Kaia from you. You were right. You’ve been right the whole time. I only did the fundraiser to impress her. But shit, Steve, I’d do it just for you now. If you needed it. Which you don’t. Because you have a really good prognosis. Right? But if you did. Or if I could start over again, which I really wish I could, so much . . . But I can’t . . . But if I could. I would. Just for you. Because . . . Just don’t die?”
To my relief, he shook his head a little. “Told you. Not dying. Side effect. I’m fine.”
I needed to do something to show that I cared. That things were different between us. That there was an “us.” “Look, I promise, I’ll let go of the whole Kaia thing.”
That perked him up a little bit and he turned to me, surprised. “Really?”
“Yes,” I said, and still felt like maybe it wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry . . .” I added, and the “for everything” was obvious, even if I didn’t speak it.
“You are a nice guy, Cam.”
I opened my door even before I fully stopped in Steve’s driveway. Rushing around the car, I got to his side. I knocked on his window to make sure he was alert before I opened it. He sat up, bleary eyed, and I pulled the door handle. To my surprise, he began getting himself out of the car without my help.
“I’m good.”
“Dude . . .”
“I got it.” He hit my hand away.
“Let me walk you to the door,” I insisted as I helped him to his feet.
“I told you, I’m good,” he said, and took a deep, steadying breath.
“You are not good.”
“Fine. I’m not good. Just . . . let me do this, okay?” He held my gaze for a moment to be sure I understood he was serious.
“Okay, but if I see you stumble, I’m walking you all the way to your bed.”
“Sure thing, Florence Nightingale.” He smiled, a little of his usual glint back in his eye, and then walked slowly but surely toward his door. “Thanks for everything tonight, Cam. What you said. You have no idea.”
I watched as he made his way up the long, lit path to his front door. He didn’t look great, but he did
n’t falter. As he opened the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. He’d made it home. His parents could help him now. At least his mom could.
I sat in his driveway for ten minutes just in case.
Still raw, I drove home at a snail’s pace, listening to Rex Orange County. I would show up tomorrow morning and check on Steve for sure. And maybe bring him some of that honey he liked. Maybe I’d even play Grand Theft Auto with him. I could protect the sex workers. Ha.
I felt a little selfish having these thoughts. They were as much about me worrying about Steve as they were about me not wanting the night to end. How had that happened? How had my stupid plan turned around so completely that I now wanted to hang out with Steve instead of kill him?
It didn’t matter. It had happened. I just basked in the warm surprise and turned up Rex.
Buzz.
There was a text on my phone. I pulled over to the side of the road and checked. It was from Steve. I was immediately prepared to turn around and get him to the hospital, but it wasn’t an emergency.
Steve: I made it in alive. Thanks for a night I’ll never forget, friend.
I reread the word friend and smiled. I needed to respond in a fun way. My heartbeat began to accelerate as I struggled to find the right thing. It should be funny. But I didn’t want to just ignore that he’d said friend. He was taking the first step. I needed to have the courage to meet him there. So, a “thumbs-up” or a “crying laughing” emoji seemed too slight. Like I was trying to be cool. But he would be totally freaked out if I wrote something too sincere. My fingers hovered over the screen with nervous excitement. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something.
On the car seat beside me, next to my discarded kitty ears, was Steve’s jacket.
Once again, I pulled up to Steve’s house and turned off the car. It was so late that I figured I would just leave the jacket on the doorstep. The forgotten coat had given me an idea of how to respond. I’d send a picture of it with: Friends don’t let friends get cold.
Save Steve Page 17