One Last Song

by S. K. Falls

  I took off my jacket and boots and shrugged. “I like your apartment.”

  Drew smiled as he hung up his coat. “I like it more when you’re in it.”

  We made our way to the kitchen, Drew stepping slowly and evenly, grasping his cane tightly with his long fingers curved around its neck. I walked just ahead of him, my brain filled to bursting with a million questions about his appointment. But I didn’t want to rush him into it. I wanted him to tell me what he wanted to tell me in his own time.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Sure. Water would be great. Thanks.”

  I handed him a bottle and took a seat next to him on the breakfast nook bench. “Wonder how Jack’s meeting with Noah Preston’s going,” I said, when the silence pressed on too long.

  “He said he’d text me when it was done,” Drew replied, unscrewing his bottle cap and taking a deep drink. Then he set the bottle down and we watched a drop of condensation slide down its ribbed body. “I had my appointment.”

  I waited for him to continue, my breathing slowing down so the noise wouldn’t discourage him or scare him away from saying what he really felt. The only sound was the quiet hum of the ice maker in the freezer. I put my hand on his when he didn’t say anything else. He looked at me then, his eyes moist and pink around the corners.

  “It sucked.”

  I nodded, lined my fingers up with his on the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, baby.” It was the first time I’d called him that, but it didn’t feel trite or weird in that moment.

  “I won’t get it for another three months, but they said I could start renting a chair from them next week. Since FA advances so quickly. Since I’ve deteriorated so quickly.” He shook his head, staring at the sweating bottle of water in front of him. “I failed every single balance test they had me take. It was fucking humil—I felt like a fucking cripple.”

  His violent distaste for himself felt like a knife straight to the tender spot under my breastbone.

  Once, when I was in middle school, I went to a small convenience store to get a snack. The place didn’t have automated doors, and there was a man in a wheelchair trying to open the tiny glass door so he could go in. I rushed ahead, feeling virtuous, and held it open for him. But he glared at me, his cheeks reddening.

  “Did I ask for your help?” His voice was deep and low, like a dog that growls right before it goes for your throat.

  “N-No.” I felt my face heat up as people inside the store turned to see what was going on.

  “I’m not a fucking cripple,” the guy had bit out, turning his chair around. “Fuck you.”

  I leaned my head against Drew’s arm and wrapped my arms around him. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you.” I didn’t know what else to say, if there was anything else to say, in this broken moment.

  Drew kissed the top of my head. I felt his stubble caress the top of my scalp.

  “What makes it a tiny bit better,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “What made it somewhat bearable was that I knew I had you to come home to. I knew I’d get to come here and tell you what had happened, and you’d understand right away. It’s weird how disease does that, huh?”

  I didn’t know how to answer. All I knew was that feeling of self-loathing and guilt began to churn in my gut again. Before either of us could say anything else, there was a scrabbling sound and the front door opened. A few moments later, my mother appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

  She stood in the doorway, staring at me as if she couldn’t quite place who I was.

  My palms began to sweat at the memory of the last excruciating encounter with Drew and my mother in the same room at the hospital. “Hi, Mum.” I glanced at the clock—twelve thirty. “You’re home early.”

  “Yes. We only had a half day today.” Having recovered her tongue, she tip-tapped her way into the kitchen and set the kettle to boil. Then, turning around, she smiled frostily at Drew. “How do you do?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Grayson,” he said. “I met you briefly at the hospital.”

  “Yes, I remember,” she replied, her eyes moving from me to him, as if she was expecting something to happen. “Saylor’s boyfriend.” She said the last part slowly, as if she was turning the words over with her tongue, really tasting them.

  My cheeks were on fire, and I knew the conversation was headed into dangerous territory, even though my mother hadn’t really said anything at all. She hadn’t asked where we’d met, forcing me to recount the lie in front of her. But there was something sinister about her silence. What was she doing? Was she just dangling the fact that she knew the truth when Drew didn’t in front of me, the power that she could end the only thing I cared about with a few words?

  Who could tell? What I did know was that I needed to get away from this—the meeting of these two adults who saw me as two completely different people with two very different truths, and two opposing existences.

  I stood up. “We need to go,” I said. “We have that… thing, Drew.”

  He caught on right away. “Oh, yeah.” He stood, maneuvering carefully around the table with his cane. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Grayson.”

  “You too, Drew.” Behind my mother, the kettle began to shriek.

  As we passed by her crafting nook, Drew said, “I really like your dollhouse. It’s perfect.”

  * * *

  We buttoned up our jackets on the front porch. The icy wind whipped through my hair, and a tendril of a curl twisted its way around my neck.

  “You were in a hurry to get out of there,” Drew said, untwisting the curl. He smiled and kissed me. “Embarrassed of your cripple boyfriend?”

  I stared deep into his eyes. It was meant to be a joke, but I could see the fear there.

  “Never,” I said.

  I wondered how easy it would be, in this moment, to tell him my secret. To tell him who I really was. To tell him why I’d lied, and why I was with him, to tell him he was the only person who made me feel alive. But he began to walk down the stairs and I hurried to keep up with him, holding on to his arm so he wouldn’t fall. Still, I knew that if he did, there was no way I was strong enough to hold him up.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  We were in my car, backing out, when Drew’s and my cell phones beeped at the same time with text messages. Mine said, simply:

  Don’t forget our arrangement. –N.P.

  As I read mine, Drew said, “Jack says they’re home now. He wants to know if we can make it over there anytime soon.”

  “We can be there in twenty minutes,” I said.

  I was putting the car in park in Jack’s driveway twenty minutes later when Drew pressed something into my hand. I looked down and saw a little guitar-shaped USB stick. “What’s this?”

  “Your soundtrack,” he said.

  I laughed. “What?”

  “You’ll see.” His eyes actually twinkled. I could tell he was greatly enjoying being mysterious.

  I kissed him on the mouth. “Okay. Thank you, whatever it is.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, smiling against my lips.

  * * *

  Inside, Jack’s dad Dave greeted me with a big hug. His eyes were misty and pink around the edges. I stared, stunned realization dawning. He was almost in tears because of what I’d done for his son. I couldn’t wrap my head around this. I wore selfishness like a well-loved sweater. Faced with his naked gratitude, I felt off-kilter. Even more confusing was the warm feeling in my chest. And this time it had nothing to do with a fever.

  “Thank you,” he said, releasing me but grabbing my face in both his warm hands. I blinked, too shocked to say anything. “You are an absolute angel.”

  Drew laughed softly behind me. “So the meeting went well?”

  “It went really well. Noah Preston has agreed to take on Jack’s case,” Jeannie said from somewhere behind his dad. Then: “Oh, Dave. Move out of the way so she can come in.”

  Dave, still smiling broadly, raised his hands
in apology. “She’s right. Sorry. Come in, dear.”

  Drew and I followed them down a narrow hallway and into Jack’s bedroom. He was in his bed, sleeping, his head tilted on his pillow, mouth open. His bony chest moved shallowly up and down, as if each breath was only half there.

  “He was awake a moment ago,” Jeannie whispered.

  “It’s okay. Let him sleep,” Drew said.

  We moved back out to the living room, where we could talk.

  “Noah Preston decided to take your case,” I said carefully. “That’s great. But… can you afford his services?”

  “He’s deeply discounting them for us,” Jack’s father said. “He said it’d be good to have a case like Jack’s heard in New Hampshire. Legal precedent and all that.” He looked at Drew. “So you don’t have to schlep all around town doing the petition anymore, son.”

  I wished Noah Preston had taken on the case for free, but benevolence existed in children’s books, not the real world.

  “Mr. Preston said you made an arrangement with him so he’d agree to meet us,” Jeannie said. “That’s so kind of you, sweetie, but we wouldn’t want you to put yourself in a hard place for us.”

  “No, I promise it was nothing.” I flushed under the penetrating gaze of three pairs of eyes.

  Drew had tried to get me to tell him more about my “arrangement” with Noah Preston, but I had refused. It felt like the least I could do, to step out of the limelight and let Jack’s fight be his own. I didn’t want any of the glory. I suppose, too, that some part of me wanted the least amount of things to be sorry for when the truth came out about who I really was.

  * * *

  After the visit, when we got in the car, I looked at Drew. “What do you want to do tonight?”

  He pointed to the clock on the dash. “Did you forget? It’s TIDD group night.”

  “Right.” Anxiety coursed through my blood, bitter and acrid. “Volunteering” at the hospital now was starting to become something I dreaded. Every time I saw someone who had a legitimate reason to be there, it forced me to look what I was doing in the face.

  And as if that wasn’t enough, every time I set foot in the hospital to attend TIDD group I gave Linda Adams another opportunity to catch me out. I chose to focus on this latter fear because it was much more easily stomached. I didn’t have to fight with self-loathing quite as hard when I was thinking about how I could evade discovery by the hospital administration. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that Linda Adams didn’t seem to venture down to the basement very much. In the evenings especially, she and Shelly were usually already gone by the time I got there. And Dr. Stone hadn’t said anything about calling the hospital about me. But just to be safe I decided I’d go up and see her, tell her things were going fine.

  * * *

  We walked in the double doors and I gestured to the stairs. “I’m actually going to go up and visit with Linda Adams first.”

  “Who?” Drew paused.

  “Oh, um, just… someone my parents are friends with. I told them I’d stop by and say hello. You can go ahead without me. I’ll meet you down there.”

  “Okay.” Drew kissed me on the forehead and ambled toward the elevators.

  I waited until he got on even though there was no way he could possibly follow me up the stairs. Guilt is a powerful, though illogical, motivator.

  I bounded up the stairs, my heart pounding furiously, and not from the exercise. Waving to Shelly, Linda’s assistant, I said, “Hey. Can I go in and see her?”

  She nodded, so I knocked on Linda’s door, and when she called out, I went in.

  “Hi, Linda.” I wiped my palms on my jeans, thinking, She knows. Dr. Stone called her when I missed my appointment to make sure I wasn’t doing exactly what I am doing. She knows, she knows, she knows.

  But Linda looked up from her computer screen smiling. “Ah, Saylor. I’ve been thinking about you. How have you been doing?”

  I fiddled with the zipper on my hoodie, relaxed a little. She was smiling, not a hint of hostility about her face. Maybe she didn’t know. “Okay.” Drew’s face came into my mind and I smiled. “Really well. I’ve met some cool people.”

  Linda leaned back in her chair. “Yes, the groups have incredibly dynamic people. Any ones you’re particularly enjoying?”

  I knew I shouldn’t have said it the moment it left my mouth. “The TIDD group.” I shouldn’t give her information she might want to check up on. But I told myself to chill. Dr. Stone hadn’t called her, and why would he? I wasn’t in the medical part of the hospital, where I could pilfer supplies or pick up medical books. He had no reason to breach patient confidentiality and tell her about my Tylenol saga.

  “The TIDD group—yes, they’re a fun bunch. Young people. Mostly your age?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying your time with us.” She sat upright again, like she was ready to get back to work.

  “Okay. Well, I just wanted to check in, let you know everything’s going well.” I waved and walked out, a huge weight lifting off me. I sprinted back down to the basement, whistling a tune from the Carousel Mayhem CD.

  * * *

  Downstairs, the TIDD meeting had already begun. Drew had saved me a chair right beside him, and I sank into it. Zee was talking about her new wig, a light lavender one with big curls we’d bought at Wigs and Twigs. I smiled at her story, and my eyes drifted across the room. I hadn’t really recognized the person sitting across from me. I’d assumed it was someone new. But it was Pierce.

  He was curled in on himself, his skin riddled with large grape-colored tumors. His eyes had a scary vacant look to them, as if he wasn’t really there with us. His hair was plastered to his scalp because he was sweating. And yet he wore his big outdoor jacket, which just accentuated his hollow cheeks and the chin that jutted out too much. He met my eye and didn’t smile.

  When Zee was done with her story, he sat up a little straighter. “I have to get home early,” he said in a voice that sounded like a dry stick scraping cement. “But I wanted to invite you guys to something.”

  He handed out little envelopes to me, Zee, and Carson. Drew didn’t get one. We opened them simultaneously. There were little invitation cards that said,

  You’re Invited

  Come Hang Out With Pierce at Sphinx. Say Good-bye. Celebrate His Life. 8 PM Tuesday.

  “My mom made these,” he said. “Drew’s singing. You guys’ll come, right?” He exploded into those barking coughs like he had at Sphinx, and when he was done, I noticed that his mask was pink-tinged. Blood.

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for anything. You know that.” Zee swallowed compulsively and then looked away.

  Carson nodded. He didn’t look very strong himself, but he didn’t look as bad as Pierce. “I’ll be there, man.”

  Nodding, Pierce got up. I looked to the doorway and saw his mom there. She waved to us and we waved back. Arm in arm, they walked slowly to the elevators.

  We didn’t really speak too much after that. Drew updated everyone on Jack’s lawyer situation. Carson said he was fine, though he didn’t look it. And finally, Drew spoke again to tell Zee and Carson about his chair prescription.

  Zee punched him lightly on the arm. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? I would’ve gone with you.”

  “I kind of wanted to be by myself at the appointment.” He was gracious enough to not tell her that I’d known already.

  She got up and hugged him.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  But he looked at me while he said it, and I remembered him in his apartment, drinking and listening to Carousel Mayhem. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and make love to him in that moment, for protecting her.

  I took a deep breath and looked away, wanting to give them a moment of privacy. It was then that I saw her. Linda Adams stood at the entrance to the room, something like half confusion and half alarm on her face from seeing me sitting in there.

&nb
sp; I jumped to my feet. Drew and Zee looked at me, confused. Pointing to the doorway and Linda Adams, I said, “I just have to go talk to someone I know. Um, I’ll be waiting outside for you guys.”

  My heart raced as I speed-walked to the entrance, and with a big grin on my face, pulled Linda Adams by the elbow to the side. “I don’t want to bother them by talking in there,” I muttered, leading her to the doorway.

  “Oh, of course.” Linda Adams still looked confused, as if she wanted badly to understand what I was up to. I’d encountered people like her before in my life, people who were so inherently good that they had trouble understanding those of us who were rotten inside. They simply seemed unable to get that we were different than them, that not everyone barfed rainbows and shat diamonds. “Saylor, may I ask what you were doing in there?”

  So polite. She’d caught me out, and she was still being so fucking polite. I brightened my smile a couple of notches. “Sure!”

  I opened the basement door and as we began to climb up, I let myself relax because I knew there was no chance any of the TIDD group would venture out here. There wasn’t any chance that they’d hear my lies or Linda Adams’s truth. “You know how I told you I’ve met some great people in that group?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, one of them came in today and he’s not doing so well. He wanted to invite his friends to a sort of last party for him, and he was insistent that I come, too.” I shrugged. “Maybe I shouldn’t have gone in there with their group, but when he invited me… I felt like it was okay to do that. Sorry, Linda. It won’t happen again.” I gave her my most sincere apologetic look.

  We were at the first-floor landing. Linda smiled, her face sagging a bit in relief. “That’s okay,” she said. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to become attached. You grow used to it as time goes on, and learn how to distance yourself better. I’m just glad I’m not a doctor or a nurse because I’d be a wreck every time one of my patients passed.”

  We laughed together, enjoying a moment of camaraderie. I saw clearer than I ever had before what the shrinks had been saying since my first appointment: that Munchausen syndrome is usually accompanied by a personality disorder. I’d been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, among other things, but I’d never much paid attention to it. It was just another label they wanted to slap on me, to say that I was damaged goods. Now, for the first time, I looked at what that label meant.