She waits for me to say something, but I don’t. She sighs.
“I told him to go home, but he won’t,” she adds.
“I told him that too,” I tell her. She eyes me, and she’s curious.
“Am I missing something?” she asks, and I’m annoyed.
“Now isn’t the time,” I tell her abruptly.
She’s quiet because I’m right and she knows it. Even still, her curiosity lingers in the air, thick and palpable.
“Still. It’s not fair to just leave him out there,” she answers stubbornly. “He should be able to see Beck. It’s only right. He loves that boy too, Nat.”
I think on that . . . about all the times Kit helped with Beck and how he’d stepped in when I was a mess and didn’t know what to do.
I do owe him.
“Fine,” I say, nodding.
She slips out of the room and returns within minutes with Kit in tow. He’s apologetic but concerned, and he immediately starts talking to Beck.
“Hey, buddy,” he says soothingly, and he grasps Beck’s arm. “Hey. You’re doing good. Really good.” His voice is grave, though, and his shoulders are tense.
It’s telling. He’s worried.
My head drops.
“How are you holding up?” he asks me, and my heart clenches.
“I’m okay.”
But I’m not okay.
And he knows that.
He nods again with his big head, and his blond hair brushes his shoulders. “Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry,” I answer. “I had coffee, though.”
Kit is silent, Sam is silent, and the three of us look at our boy, because even though he’s mine, he’s ours.
All of ours.
“Did anyone call Elin?” Sam asks suddenly, her head snapping up.
I feel awful because I didn’t think about it. Beck is hers too, and I’d totally forgotten.
“No,” I answer simply. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Of course you did,” Kit answers soothingly, and he pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Nat. You have a lot going on. I’ll go call her for you.”
I start to nod but then shake my head instead.
“No, I should do it,” I tell him. “Can you sit with Beck?”
“Of course.”
So I leave Beck with Kit and Sammy, and step into the hall. I stare at my phone and ponder what to say.
Things are complicated with Elin and Beck right now because he’d left and he’d broken her heart, like he’d broken all of ours.
But still she loves him.
And there’s no good way to make this call.
I dial her number.
She’s sleepy when she answers, groggy.
“Mrs. Kingsley?”
“Elin . . .”
Eeeeelin. Who names their kid that? Not Ellen. Eeeeelin.
I focus.
“Sweetheart, Beck is in the hospital.”
She snaps to attention, her voice immediately clear. “You found him? How bad is it?”
“It’s not good,” I say slowly.
“I’m on my way.”
“Wait, honey,” I tell her. “We don’t know what’s going to happen. They’ve put him in a coma. His brain is swollen and could be damaged. We don’t know what’s going to happen when they bring him out. He could be different. Or he could . . .”
I can’t say the words, and she doesn’t wait to hear them.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says stoutly, and I love her for that. “Are you at Mercy?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Wait,” she says, and there is hesitancy in her voice, fear. “Do you think he’d want me there?”
“I do, sweetie. I do.”
“I’ll be there shortly,” she says immediately.
I hang up and slump to the floor, my phone still in my hand.
The fluorescent lights swirl above me, and no one seems to think that me lying on the floor outside a room is odd. Everyone continues with their business, stepping around me.
I remember when I used to think that Beck and Elin were puppy love. That was back when they were sophomores and had stars in their eyes. They were the cliché cheerleader and quarterback, and everyone thought it was a passing phase.
But they’ve been together for years, and the things they feel for each other are very adult things. In fact, when he started pushing her away, that was when I knew something truly serious was going on. It was one of my first real warning signs, even though I didn’t quite realize how big it was at the time.
Regardless of that, he loves her. I know he does.
If anyone can get through to Beck, it might be Elin.
* * *
“WHAT COLOR IS ELIN’S prom dress?” I asked my son.
He looked up from the TV, and he was confused.
“I don’t know. She didn’t say. Should I know that?”
I sighed. “I’m ordering her corsage,” I explained. “It’d be nice if it matched.”
“Oh.” He picked up his phone and punched some buttons, in the lightning-fast way that teenagers do. “Pink.”
“Hot pink? Pale pink?”
He rolled his eyes. “Just pink, Mom.”
“Okay. I’ll just text her myself.” I started to do that very thing, but Beck snapped at me.
“Don’t. Leave it alone.”
Startled, I stared at him. “Why in the world not?”
“Because I don’t want you to. Just let me handle it.”
Confused, I narrowed my eyes, but he looked away, returning to his video game. He rarely played those things, and it was weird that he was so into it tonight.
“Fine. A white corsage it is.” I clicked the Order button and closed my laptop.
“I don’t want to go to prom,” he told me for the twentieth time. “It’s dumb and a waste of time.”
“I don’t want you to regret it later,” I told him. “You need to have all of these experiences, all of these memories. One day you’ll thank me.”
“I doubt it.”
I was beginning to doubt it too. Lately Beck hadn’t shown much interest in anything, and he’d even been slacking with Elin.
She was honestly the prettiest, smartest girl in his senior class, and if he was losing interest in her, then what was I supposed to do with something like that?
“Well, I know Elin definitely wants to go, so you’ll have to suck it up. Besides, you’re gonna look so handsome in your tux. Everyone does.”
He barely grunted.
“Where are you taking her for dinner?” I asked, trying to get details. “I’m going to pick up your tux tomorrow. Is everything all set with the limo?”
He’d gone in with a group of his friends to book a party limo. None of the parents wanted the kids to drive on prom night, so we’d all contributed to the cost.
“Yeah,” he said, without taking his eyes from the screen. “It’s all set.”
“Okay.”
“Mommy, if Beck gets to ride in a limo, what do we get to do?” Annabelle asked, and she had her teddy bear dressed in overalls. “I want to wear a princess dress.”
“Okay. You can wear a princess dress and I’ll take you and Dev out to eat. We’ll have our own party.”
She was satisfied with that. “I’ve got to find my tiara,” she decided, and ran for her room. That wouldn’t be hard. She had at least four of them.
“You should take Aunt Sammy,” Beck mentioned, still playing his game. “She’s bored lately.”
“How do you know that?” This was interesting.
My son shrugged. “She texts.”
“She texts you,” I repeated.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. It’s the twenty-first century, Mom. People text.”
“I know,” I answered as patiently as I could. “But do you text her back?”
“Of course. It’d be rude if I didn’t.”
“You don’t a
nswer my texts,” I told him, leading him down this path all along. “Why can you text Aunt Sammy but not me?”
He glanced at me, unconcerned. “Because you’re my mom and you don’t get offended.”
I was speechless, but reasoning with a teenager was an exercise in futility.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“You’re not seriously upset,” Beck said, phrasing it like a question but still not looking away from the television.
“Of course not,” I answered. “I’m a mom. I don’t have feelings, apparently.”
He huffed and shot someone and I shook my head.
“If we were hamsters, I’d eat you,” I announced as I headed out of the room.
“You would not,” he called after me. “You wouldn’t want the fur in your mouth.”
He was chuckling, which actually made me smile.
He didn’t laugh much nowadays.
I could still hear him chuckling as I ducked into Devin’s room. I found my younger son quietly studying his spelling words, without even being asked.
“You take after your dad,” I told him, and that made me so proud. There wasn’t a thing that Matt didn’t prepare for.
Dev smiled up at me, such a serious little man.
“He liked to do my spelling words with me,” he said quietly, flipping the card. I felt a rush of guilt. Matt had been gone six months and I hadn’t thought to sit down and work out spelling words with Devin.
What the hell was wrong with me? I was like a robot. I was able to do the basic things but unable to see everything that I actually needed to do.
“Want my help?” I offered now because it was better late than never. Devin’s freckles stood out on his pale cheeks. I brushed his hair back with my hand, and his lamp, the one with the spinning lampshade, was throwing shadows of the seven continents on the ocean-blue walls.
He shook his head and it kind of hurt my heart.
“That’s okay, Mom. I know you don’t like studying.”
“I like studying with you,” I corrected him. He grinned.
“Okay. How do you spell pterodactyl?”
He cocked his head and waited, because he knew that Matt was the speller.
“Well, Mr. Smarty Pants, you’re the one who needs to spell it, not me!”
I yanked the card away and waited for him to spell it out, which of course he did perfectly. The silent p didn’t trip him up at all.
“Good job,” I told him, pulling out a fresh card. “Peninsula.”
He paused, and I thought I’d tripped him up, but his eyes looked sad. I lowered the card.
“What?”
“Mom, you’re not Dad.”
His words stung.
“I know, honey. I just thought . . . I could help you too. What did Daddy do differently?”
“He made up dumb songs to make things easier to remember.”
Honest to God, I tried. I did. I started singing, but it didn’t come out right and I couldn’t think of what to say. I just wasn’t as goofy as Matt, and I never would be.
“It’s okay,” Dev told me. “It’s fine. You have other things to do, Mom.”
“Wait, I can do this. Just give me a minute to think on it. We have to do things differently now. We have to adjust.”
“I don’t want to,” he said simply, and he was so small to have to deal with such a big thing.
“I know,” I agreed. “I don’t want to either. But we don’t get to choose.”
He took the card from my hand.
“I’ll just practice alone,” he told me. He didn’t hear the sound my heart made as it broke. “It’s easier that way.”
I saw it in his eyes. He didn’t want me to take that place in his memory of his father. I had to respect that.
“Okay,” I said, relenting. “But if you need help, just yell.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m a better speller than you, Mom.”
“You’re twelve going on twenty,” I answered. I paused to pick up his dirty laundry.
“Date night on Saturday,” I told him when I got to the door. “While Beck is at prom, you, me, and Anna-B are going out.”
“He’s going?” Dev looked up, his brow furrowed. “I heard him talking on the phone yesterday. He said he wasn’t.”
“He doesn’t want to,” I corrected him. “But he’s going. There are memories to be made.”
“When I’m eighteen, will you make me do stuff too?”
“Yeah. It’s my right as your mother to make your life miserable.”
He scowled, but it was too adorable to have his desired effect. I rumpled his hair and headed out, just in time to see Beck disappear into the bathroom. He took three long showers a day, and I didn’t like to think about what went on in there.
It was when I was walking past his room that I heard his phone.
Text alert after text alert, like rapid machine-gun fire.
I paused.
Don’t do it, I told myself. I always said that I wouldn’t snoop in my kids’ business unless there was a reason.
But something felt different this time.
Glancing over my shoulder, I made sure he was still in the bathroom. Then, I stepped into his room, picking his phone up off his bed.
Twenty-nine texts from Elin.
How could you do this?
Prom is in two days.
This isn’t you.
You love me. I know you do.
Startled, I scrolled upward into the conversation, to Beck’s last text to her.
I can’t do this right now. You should be with someone who can. I don’t deserve you, E.
I was so stunned that the words blurred together.
What in the world prompted this?
You’re all I want, Elin answered. What are you talking about??
I scrolled through the words, and Beck’s answers just didn’t make sense. You deserve better.
Better than my son?
I was so involved in reading that I didn’t hear Beck coming back down the hall, and when he came into his room, I still had his phone in my hand.
“Mom, what the hell?” He grabbed it from me, his gaze furtive.
“Why did you break up with Elin?” I demanded. “You love her. You’ve been together for so long. This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why are you reading my texts? All you do is lie in bed, and the second you get up you snoop in my phone?”
“I . . .” I didn’t have a good answer. Telling him my gut told me to wouldn’t fly. “I just heard your phone blowing up and I thought it might be important.”
Beck scowled at me, not buying it, and I couldn’t blame him.
“I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy,” I said carefully. “I’m sorry. I’m so worried, though, Becks. What is going on? This is so . . . unexpected.”
In this moment, he was a little boy. My little boy. He was hurting and I couldn’t fix it.
“Nothing,” he insisted. “People break up, Mom. It’s not like we were going to get married. We’re probably going to go to different colleges, so breaking up was gonna happen anyway.”
He tried to sound so nonchalant, but I heard the sadness in his voice. I could see it in the way he stood, in the way his shoulders slumped.
“Do you really feel like she deserves someone better than you?” I asked, my voice thin. “Because there’s no one better than you, Beckitt.”
He didn’t answer. He just looked at me, his eyes dark and almost forlorn.
“Mom, I’m in a towel. I need to get dressed.”
I nodded, taking the not-so-subtle hint.
I headed for the door, tripping over his discarded pants. As I did, a pack of cigarettes slid out of his pocket.
I was stunned and turned back around to find Beck already scowling.
“Don’t say it,” he told me, bending to reach for the pack. “I’m an adult and this is my decision.”
“You’re deciding to get lung cancer?” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you think
if your father could have chosen, he would’ve chosen to die? He wouldn’t. But smoking . . . that’s choosing. That’s choosing to do something very risky, something that will kill you. Give them to me.”
Beck was defiant, his eyes flashing.
“No. Mom, you can’t control me. Smoking helps me cope.”
“Smoking will help you die,” I insisted. “This is ridiculous. Give them to me. You’re grounded from your car for two weeks.”
“No,” he argued again. “It just takes the edge off. It helps with the anxiety.”
“You’re not smoking in this house, Beck. I mean it.”
“You’re being stupid,” he railed at me, pulling a shirt over his head, then yanking on pants. “This is the least of the things you should be worrying about. You should be worrying about yourself, not about my girlfriend or my smoking.”
“You are the most important thing,” I answered slowly. “You, Annabelle, Devin . . .”
“Then show it,” he screamed, slamming out of the room. “Act like you give a shit about someone other than yourself. Get out of bed, comb Annabelle’s hair, pack their lunches. Worry about yourself.”
“Come back here,” I demanded. “You can’t talk to me like that! You still have to follow my rules. As long as you’re under my roof—”
He interrupted me, pausing on the stairs.
“Maybe I won’t be under your roof,” he snapped, and then he stormed out, out of my house, out of my sight.
I was frozen on the staircase, and from there I could see out the window. I saw Beck’s taillights disappear down our street.
He was gone. What if he really didn’t come back?
“Mommy?”
Annabelle’s little voice interrupted my panic, and she was at the bottom of the stairs, her thumb in her mouth. She had a Kool-Aid stain on her shirt and her hair was rumpled. I really hadn’t combed it today.
“It’s okay, punkin,” I told her. I took her hand and led her down to the kitchen where I combed the snarls out. There were so many of them. Had it been combed all week?
“Why is Becky mad?” she asked me, and she was so worried, so innocent. I had to protect that. I couldn’t tell her that her brother was slipping away.
“He’s okay, honey,” I lie. “He and Elin are fighting, but they’ll be all right.”
“But he sounds mad at you,” she pointed out. “Is he going to move away?”
She was worried, and I was appalled. Surely not. He didn’t mean that.
Saving Beck Page 7