“He’s fine, honey,” I told her. “Sometimes we say things we don’t mean.”
“But Becky does everything,” she said, and she was mournful now. “He feeds me and gives me baths. He can’t leave, Mama. He can’t!”
What have I done?
“That’s all my job,” I said. “Mommy hasn’t been feeling well, honey. But I’m getting better. I promise.”
She looked up at me doubtfully and it broke my heart.
“Let’s get you some apple juice; then I’ll read you a story,” I suggested. Being read to was her favorite thing, so she agreed immediately, her fears about Beck forgotten.
Not for me, though.
Long after I’d tucked Dev and Annabelle into bed, I worried about Beck. I texted my sister and Kit, and neither had heard from him.
I watched for his car, I texted him.
No answer.
I texted him again. You were right. I’ve been pathetic. I’ll do better. Starting now. Come home.
Still no answer.
If Matt were here, he’d know what to do.
It was after midnight when I gave up. I turned off all the lights downstairs, then locked the door. I jiggled the handle to make sure, then checked the lock again. I was never paranoid before, but like everything else, now that Matt was gone, everything had changed.
Things that go bump in the night had become a little scarier.
The night had become a little darker.
As I brushed my teeth, I noticed that my hand was shaking.
Damn it.
I was never one to get anxious before. But now . . . well, now the anxiety consumed me in ways I’d never imagined. On my darkest days, it took my breath away.
Once I rinsed and spit, I went for the Xanax. I usually tried not to take it until my fingers started to shake.
I’d become so good at suppressing the anxiety that I only noticed it when my body literally manifested it in a physical way.
I dumped a pill into my hand, and the bottle seemed low. It was startling.
Had I really taken most of the bottle?
Holy shit.
That was another problem. Sometimes I’d forget things now. Memories were blurs, complete chunks of time missing. I knew it was just a by-product of coping with grief, but still. Maybe Beck was right. Maybe I was the reason things were falling apart.
I swallowed the bitter pill and climbed into the cold bed.
I still hadn’t gotten used to the vastness of it, the loneliness of being the only one in the bed.
Out of habit, my fingers reached out for Matt, but they grasped at air. I sighed and tried to sleep, but sleep was elusive for once.
I was wide-awake, staring at shadows, when Beck finally came home.
It was after three in the morning.
Only then could I close my eyes and rest.
twelve
BECK
MERCY HOSPITAL
6:59 A.M.
“OH MY GOD. HE LOOKS so . . .”
“Yeah,” my mom agrees. “He looks bad. I know.”
How bad do I look? Is my face smashed in?
Someone new picks up my hand, someone with smooth, slender fingers.
“I think he’s been in a fight,” she says. I know that voice. It’s sweet and clear. “Where has he been?”
“We don’t know,” my mom whispers. “We don’t know anything.”
“Here, Elin,” Aunt Sammy says quickly. “You can have my seat.”
Elin. Oh my God.
All of my feelings whoosh out of my body, like my breath has been knocked out. She’s here. Right now. After the way I left, after everything I’ve done.
Only of course she doesn’t know what I’ve done.
I don’t deserve her, definitely not. She just doesn’t know it.
Lips are next to my ear. Soft and full. Elin. I recognize her scent, flowery and feminine. She is everything good in the world, and she always has been. I picture the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, and it hits me hard, right in the gut.
“Where’ve you been, babe?” she asks, and her voice is so tender, so sweet. Her hand brushes my cheek, and it must make my mom uncomfortable, because she speaks up.
“We’ll give you a little privacy,” she says awkwardly, and then there is rustling, and the door opens, then closes.
“Oh my God, Beck,” Elin whispers, and her hand is squeezing mine so tightly. “I’ve been so scared. You can’t leave me. Not ever again. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Remember?”
I remember breaking things off with her so I didn’t hurt her. That’s what I remember.
I want to tell her everything. Everything I’ve done. But I can’t force my lips to move. It’s maddening. I have to lie here and let everyone believe that I’m worth it. That I’m worth their pain. I’m not.
Once upon a time, I was. I was everything they thought me to be. I was good and kind, considerate and thoughtful, and fuck, I was a gentleman, just like Mom raised me to be.
But I’m not that person anymore.
* * *
TRAY AND I HID in the locker rooms, standing on a toilet with our joint poked out the slanted open window.
I sucked in slowly, letting the herb reach my lungs and then my bloodstream, then breathed out. I handed it over to my friend, and he did the same.
“Did you break it off with Elin?” he asked in the weird voice that potheads use when they’re trying not to let smoke escape their lungs.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I assume she didn’t take it well?” He sucked in again.
“No.”
“Well, she’s just gonna have to suck it up. What did she think? That you’d stay together when you leave for college? That’s stupid.”
But it’s exactly what she had thought, and me too. We had planned on going to college together. But she deserved someone better. I knew that now. Now that I was spiraling, I couldn’t pull her with me. I felt myself get a little more out of control every day. Elin deserved better.
“Let it go, dude,” I told him, reaching for the joint. I hated today. I hated most days now. My mom had been getting up and doing things around the house, but surprisingly it didn’t help. She was just in my business now, and I wasn’t sure what had sucked more—her sleeping all the time, or her being nosy.
There didn’t seem to be a lot to live for—nothing that mattered anyway.
Tray glanced at me. “Whatever, man. But you’ll be fine.”
Would I? I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Dude, we’re smoking too much of this shit,” Tray told me, his face screwed up. “It’s getting fucking expensive. I’m gonna try something different tonight. Something better. You in?”
The bell rang before I could answer, and he dropped the last bit of the joint into the toilet and flushed it.
I opened the door, and even though it was the handicapped stall, it looked weird with two guys coming out of it. Some kid was washing his hands at the sink, but he didn’t look at us twice. He probably smelled the weed.
“Later,” Tray said over his shoulder as he ducked out the door.
I followed but turned in the other direction. And that was when I saw her.
Standing in the middle of the hall, amid all of the students rushing to class, Elin Fisher stood still among the flurry of movement. She watched me, her big blue eyes frozen on mine, and it took everything I had not to rush to her and beg her to forgive me for being so stupid.
But then I remembered what I’d done.
And Elin deserved someone far better than me.
I turned away, but not before I saw the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, and the guilt. God, the guilt. I’d fucked everything up. Everything.
I texted Tray as I walked into my next class. I wasn’t sure what his “something better” was, but if it helped me handle all of this shit . . . I punched at my phone.
I’m in.
thirteen
BECK
COME OVER BEFORE
PROM, TRAY texted.
I knew why. I was nervous, I was scared, I was excited. I was all of those things, but I was going anyway.
I showered, got dressed, and went to find my mom to tie my tie.
I found her in the kitchen with Aunt Sam and the kids.
They all oohed and aahed when I walked in.
“You look beautiful,” Aunt Sam breathed, and I rolled my eyes.
“Dudes don’t look beautiful,” I reminded her.
My mom was nervous and didn’t really know how to act. She didn’t seem to know where to look. I pretended that nothing had happened.
“Can you tie this?” I asked. She nodded quickly.
Reaching up, she looped the knot, and her fingers were shaking.
“You look so handsome,” she told me quietly. “So much like your dad.”
God, if she’d said anything but that. Those words clenched my stomach. I nodded.
“Thank you.”
“I’m gonna take a picture of you two,” Aunt Sammy announced. I barely had time to turn her way before she snapped a picture of Mom tying my tie, then another of the two of us standing together. Mom threaded her arm behind me hesitantly, as though she wasn’t sure if I would snap at her or not.
“Perfect,” my aunt declared as she examined the picture.
My mom’s head snapped up. “Wait,” she called over her shoulder, rushing out of the room. Annabelle chased behind her, curious, and I waited obediently.
She was back within a minute.
“Here.” She held her hand out and dropped a pair of cuff links into mine. “Your dad’s. He’d want you to wear them.”
Jesus.
I exhaled as my mother helped me with them.
“Now you’re perfect,” she decided. They all walked me to the door and waved at me when I drove away. I saw them in my rearview mirror as I turned the corner. Mom was wiping at her eyes, and I was happy to get away from that.
From the heaviness.
From the guilt.
I drove straight to Tray’s.
His mom was gone, and he was waiting for me with a baggie in his hand.
“Dude, you won’t believe what I scored,” he crowed. “Take two of these. I’ll give you more later tonight. You’ll forget every problem you ever had.”
He handed me two unmarked tablets. I examined them. “What are they?”
“I told you. Painkillers. They will kill every pain you ever had.” He was so proud of himself and handed me an energy drink. “Wash them down with this. There are parties tonight, man.”
I decided not to overthink it.
I wanted to have a night where I felt normal. I tossed the pills into my mouth and swallowed them.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his tux jacket. “We’ve got women to screw and parties to drink.”
I rolled my eyes and let him drive. I waited for the pills to take effect, but I didn’t notice much difference. I told him that and he laughed.
“Whatever. These are for the refined palate, man. They dull your pain without you even realizing.”
I stared out the window at the blurred trees and clouds, and forgot about it when we reached the first party.
I had a drink, then two. The music was loud; the chattering voices were garbled.
Time flew by, and before I knew it, I had missed the actual prom.
“Let’s head over to Davis’s house,” Tray told me as the moonlight shone in the room. I shook my head clear. The pills had sped up time.
I went with my friend because I’d already missed prom anyway. What difference did it make at this point?
In the car, Tray offered me two more pills.
“How did you get these?” I asked curiously.
“I know a guy,” Tray answered, and I wasn’t sure if he’d been drinking. “He’s setting me up. I’ll be able to get more if you want them.”
“What are they?” I asked again. “Specifically?”
Tray glanced at me at the red light.
“Heroin.”
I’d already swallowed them.
“What the fuck, dude?” I grabbed a soda bottle from the floor and drank it hard, as though it would flush the drugs out of my system. Tray laughed.
“Chill out. They’re oral form so they’re weak, man. They’ll just take the edge off. They’re no worse than Percocet. Trust me, you needed it. You’ve been a dick lately.”
I pondered that. I honestly didn’t feel much different than normal. Only . . . mellower. Calmer. That couldn’t be a bad thing, right? I thought back to all of the Just say no campaigns I’d seen over the years, and I compared the bad things I’d heard to the way I felt right now.
I felt harmless.
This couldn’t be a bad thing. I’d know it, wouldn’t I?
“I thought you were supposed to inject heroin,” I mentioned as we got out of the car at Joel Davis’s house.
He nodded. “Usually. I can get that for you if you ever want it.”
He was acting like someone else, like someone I’d never seen. Since when was this Tray? Was he a dealer? Had he been guiding me down this path all along?
But I didn’t care about much of anything tonight, and I followed him into the party.
fourteen
NATALIE
MERCY HOSPITAL
7:17 A.M.
“HE THOUGHT I WAS AN angel,” I say to Sammy as we watch Elin and Beck through a crack in the door. “When they were loading him up in the ambulance. He thought he was dying.”
“Jesus,” Sam chokes before noticing my wet eyes. “He’s not going to die, Nat,” she insists.
“Okay.” But she’s not sure and neither am I. Every second with him is weighted, important.
“How did we end up here?” Sam asks, and her hand rests against my shoulder. She’s cold and clammy, and I’m pretty sure she’s in some sort of shock. “Why didn’t we see it coming?”
“There were signs,” I tell her, my heart like a rock. “But I always explained them away. I didn’t want to believe them, you know? I was so wrapped up in my grief, in poor me, that I couldn’t see anything else.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” my sister says defensively. “You were struggling, Nat. Like anyone would’ve been. This is not your fault. Not at all.”
I know differently, though. That will always be my cross to bear, I suppose.
“The smoking, and then prom night . . .” I ponder. “I should’ve known then.”
Kit shakes his head from where he’s leaning against the wall. “I was the one who told you not to worry on prom night,” he reminds me. “That was my fault.”
“Jesus, it’s not your fault either,” Sam snaps. “It just is.”
The passing of blame, the talking—it’s starting to eat at me, to wear what little patience I have left into a tiny nonexistent nub.
“Can you guys go get some coffee or something?” I ask them. “I want to talk to Elin alone.”
My sister hesitates, but Kit immediately stands up, and for that I’m thankful. “Of course.”
He guides Sam down the hall and I hesitantly push the door to my son’s room open. I don’t want to intrude, but time with him is precious right now and I can’t miss out on any more of it.
Elin looks up at me with red eyes and a tear-streaked face. She’s gripping his hand like there is no tomorrow, and I can’t help but wonder if there will be.
“I’m scared, Mrs. K,” she murmurs. “I’m so scared.”
I cross the room and I’m numb as I hug her. Beck loves this girl, and she loves him, yet how do I tell her that her fears are founded?
I don’t say anything.
I just hug her for a long time; then I let go.
I sit next to Beck on the other side of the bed.
The clock ticks on, marking the seconds before I finally speak.
“Did you suspect he was using?” I ask. “Before you guys broke up?”
She shakes her head immediately.
�
�No. He was hanging with Tray Jackson more and more, and I hated that because Tray’s a jerk. He’s funny, and he used to be a good guy, but then he changed. He’s just got an edge to him now, you know? I don’t trust him. I thought he just smoked weed, but apparently he’s into other stuff too. I didn’t know that at the time, though.”
I nod because that’s exactly what I figured. Beck wouldn’t have let Elin know. He would’ve hidden it.
“On prom night . . . when he got arrested,” I say hesitantly. “I feel like that was a turning point, somehow, for him. I just didn’t realize it at the time. Do you know what happened?”
Elin tenses and she stares at the wall, her hand still clenching Beck’s.
“Yeah. We went to the same after-party. Brody Brown wouldn’t leave me alone and Beck got in his face. He’d been drinking—they both had. And Beck lost his temper. I think that’s why the police were called.”
“Beck broke up with you and still protected you?” That doesn’t surprise me, but still. He hadn’t told me.
“He still loves me, Mrs. K,” she says firmly. “I know it.”
“I have no doubt,” I assure her. “Drugs make people do strange things. He wasn’t himself.”
* * *
SAM AND I PROPPED our legs up on the coffee table at the same exact time, collapsing into the leather couch cushions, shoulder to shoulder.
“Lord have mercy, your kids wore me out,” she sighed, pushing the hair out of her face. Sam and I looked alike, with our blond hair and blue eyes, just like our mom, but without the resting bitch face.
I leaned over and wiped silver glitter off my sister’s forehead. “Annabelle got to you.”
She smiled. “Either that or I’m a stripper in my free time.”
“Your boobs are too small,” I announced, grinning.
She glared at me. “I’m wounded.”
“Don’t be. You’ll be happy when you’re sixty and your nipples aren’t in your waistband.”
“Well, that’s a visual.”
“I thought the kids were never going to sleep tonight,” I groaned. “They get so wound up when you’re here.”
Sam chuckled. “Well, with dinner, a movie, ice cream, candy . . .”
Saving Beck Page 8