by Shen, L. J.
“She’s fine.”
Then I remembered I couldn’t bullshit Luna, and she didn’t deserve to be bullshitted, anyway.
“That’s what they tell me, anyway. Wanna know what I think? I think it’s nearing the end.”
Luna bit her lip, looking down at her thighs. She was a terrible liar, so I deducted there was something she wasn’t telling me.
“Do you know something I don’t?” I dipped my chin, my throat working.
She shook her head, flipping the greasy, plastic menu a few times, pretending to read it. Upside-fucking-down. Nice.
Drop it, my mind told me. Eighteen years later, you finally got the girl. Don’t pick a fight and ruin this. Not now.
What could Luna know about my mom that I didn’t, anyway? Nothing. I was on top of my shit in that department. I grilled Mom, Em, and Dad on a daily basis. Her doctors, too. Short of gutting a random, healthy person of their lungs and shoving them in my mom’s chest, I did everything I could. Luna wasn’t keeping anything from me.
“I’m hungry for something sweet. I think I’m going to go for the pancakes.” Moonshine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes roaming the menu. “What do you want to eat?”
“You,” I deadpanned, flicking my menu across the table. She looked up. Giggled.
Her voice. Her fucking voice. I could drown in it.
“No, really?” She covered her giggling mouth and that chipped tooth she thought made her imperfect.
“Really,” I maintained. “Put every dish on the menu in this place and your legs spread-eagle on this table and test me.”
“Jesus, Knight.” She laughed.
I sat back and smiled. It was easier to be my usual, cocksure self when I was secretly drunk. And the good thing about mouthwash, I’d found out recently, was it didn’t leave the stench of vodka or whiskey. Plus, because you weren’t actually supposed to drink it, it packed one hell of a buzz.
“How’d your roommate react this morning?” I changed the subject from her pussy before my dick sprung out of my Armani slacks and ran to reunite.
Luna rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her giant glass of milk. “She yelled at me.”
I winced. “What did you do?”
“Yelled back.”
“Atta girl.”
“Then she hugged me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then she apologized for slapping me.”
“She slapped you?”
“Yup. I mean, I can’t wholly blame her. She thought I was completely mute. I did a lot of apologizing of my own for keeping so many things a secret from her. Then I sent Josh a text message asking to meet him for coffee so I could apologize and explain. I feel like such a dick.”
“Maybe because you’ve been dicked all night.”
Evidently, I wasn’t going to be a supportive boyfriend. I just couldn’t stomach FUCKING JOSH’s name—even if I’d won the battle, the war, and conquered every inch of the land. I slid out of my seat and joined her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and kissing her head.
“Just because you didn’t tell them the whole truth doesn’t mean you lied. You didn’t speak at the time. It takes a lot of courage to do what you did, at age nineteen, and without the support of your idiot best friend. They’ll get over the shock. Cut yourself some slack.”
“What if I broke Josh’s heart?” Luna’s eyes filled with tears.
I took her hands and placed them on my chest. Her sweetness just about killed me. She wasn’t sad for FUCKING JOSH specifically. She was sad because she’d made someone else feel shitty.
“You didn’t do it on purpose. We break things all the time. It’s called life. If you don’t break, you don’t live. You don’t move. You don’t try. You don’t take chances. Breaking is a part of living. FUCKING JOSH will move on. He has to. You need to understand that sometimes, the consequences of your actions are destructive. You need to forgive yourself and make sure the other person knows you’re sorry. You can’t do more than that. You’re not responsible for someone else’s happiness.”
She ate pancakes, and I had a BLT. I forced myself to finish the bitch so she wouldn’t know how crazy lethargic I was from all the drinking. Since football season was over, I no longer gave a shit about my muscle tone. I wasn’t even sure I’d go to college at this point. I might skip a year to stay with Mom. I knew I was definitely not moving out, and I wondered if that was going to be a problem for Luna, who seemed to want to stay here at Boon.
We strolled toward the water tower after that, hand in hand. I was boarding a plane later this evening. I didn’t know the next time I could come visit. Technically, I could come next weekend, if Mom was okay. But what if she wasn’t? Leaving her side now felt like Russian roulette.
“So. This long-distance shit,” I broached.
We both looked forward, at the water tower, not each other.
“We’ll make it work,” she said.
“We have to,” I insisted. “And not just this year.” I stopped. She stopped. The entire world stopped.
This was hard. And necessary. No man should have to choose between the love of his life and the woman who gave him life. But here I was, in front of some fucked-up Sophie’s choice. The boy or the girl? The mother or the girlfriend?
The love of your life or the woman who gave you life?
“I’m not going anywhere, Luna. I’m staying in Todos Santos to be there with my mom. This year. Possibly next year. Definitely for the rest of her days. And if my mom…” I started, but she put her fingertips to my lips.
A tiny, barely visible shake of her head told me not to continue.
I cleared my throat. “Regardless of Mom, I will need to be there for Levy and Dad.”
After.
“We’ll make it work.” She brushed her thumb across my cheek.
“I’ll need you. All the freaking time.”
“I’ll try to transfer to UCLA. Might work. We’ll see.”
“Thank you.” I was too desperate to do the chivalrous thing and tell her to stay here if she was happy.
How the fuck was I going to survive until then? If she was even going to get the transfer.
She rose on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck. She touched her lips to mine. There was something about that kiss that promised more.
An I love you.
If she said it, I promised myself, I would stop drinking. I’d hold on to it in my darkest hours. I’d be good. Or at least better than I was right now. For her.
I love you, I told her in my head. I love you, I love you, I love you.
For some reason, it was important for me to hear her say it first. I was so obviously blindly, pathetically in love with her, I needed her to show me this meant something for her, too.
Her mouth opened. My goddamn heart was about to burst.
“Ride or die,” she whispered.
I smiled, my disappointment leaking through the cracks of my soul.
“Ride or die, Moonshine.”
On my cab ride from the San Diego airport to Todos Santos, my fingers closed into a fist around three Xanax pills. I looked out the window, willing them to crush into powder so I could slide them easily into the mouthwash I had in a Starbucks cup. The high was faster when they were powdered.
The hospital.
I was going straight to the hospital.
The cherry on the shit cake, I thought as I tossed the pills into my mouth, was Dad refusing to tell me what was up. The worst possible scenarios rolled through my mind. Mom had sounded so weak on the phone.
She really is dying.
She’s already dead.
She is brain dead.
Dead, dead, dead.
We were rich. We were healthy. We were strong. Invincible, really. So why couldn’t we stop it from happening?
I resorted to texting Aunt Em.
Knight: Just tell me she’s alive.
Emilia: She is.
Knight: Y is Dad being an asshole, then?
Emilia: Have you been taking care of yourself over there?
Uh-oh. She didn’t even give me shit for my nonexistent grammar and for cussing Dad. Not a good sign.
Knight: Tell me what to prepare myself for.
Emilia: Reality.
I hated everyone. Other than Luna, maybe, but I couldn’t talk to her before I had more information. It was the middle of the night in North Carolina now, and she had school tomorrow.
When the cab slid to the hospital curb, I stumbled out, the Xanax and alcohol already kicking it in my bloodstream. I decided it was probably a good idea to alternate between mouthwash and actual liquor when I almost threw up on the front desk while asking for Mom’s room.
The overnight receptionist directed me to the end of the hall. As I zigzagged my way there, my phone began to buzz in my pocket. I took it out, hoping Luna had a sixth sense.
Alas, it was Dixie. I sent it straight to voicemail and texted, All good, speak soon.
My dad was standing in the hallway, looking like a piece of dried toast—crumbling at the edges, completely burned out. The minute he saw me, instead of hugging me, or telling me it was good to have me back, or asking me, oh, I don’t know…how the fuck I was doing, he scowled and threw an accusing finger my way.
“You.”
“Me,” I pretended to yawn, getting near him.
Big mistake. Huge. Now he could smell the mouthwash. He wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d gone all dental-hygiene crazy in the span of a weekend.
“Nice touch, son. Showing up here reeking of alcohol when your mother is hospitalized.”
“Thanks, man. And I appreciate you keeping me in the loop as to what the fuck is going on with said mom.” I collapsed onto a blue chair outside her room.
He was right, though. She didn’t have to be healthy to know I looked like shit and smelled not much better.
“Where’s Lev?” I asked.
“At the Rexroths’.”
“Why not Aunt Em?”
“She’s on her way.”
“Look, I’m not that drunk. Can I see Mom?” I rubbed my face tiredly, closing my eyes.
“No,” he clipped, bracing his arm against the wall and looking down at his shoes.
She was asleep, then. I folded my arms, about to find a comfortable angle and call it a night. Mom could sleep for hours on end at the hospital. The shit they plugged into her, paired with the steroids, meant she went through spurts of random energy, followed by crashes and days of sleep.
I closed my eyes, mentally reminding myself to let Vaughn know I needed to bum a ride to school tomorrow morning, when Dad’s loafer kicked my shin. Not gently, either. My eyes cracked open.
“Wake up.” He balled up the collar of my shirt, yanking me to my feet.
Suddenly we were nose to nose. I narrowed my eyes at him. He’d never been physical with me before. My heart started pounding.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“You’re my problem!” he seethed, baring his teeth. “Your attitude is my problem. Your selfishness, to just up and…and…leave for a girl,” he spat the word out, his breath ragged as he flung his big arms in the air, pushing away from me. “You know what my problem is? My problem is your mom is not okay, and here you are, drinking and smoking yourself to death, thinking we don’t know. Thinking we don’t care. When, put simply, I’m trying to extinguish the fires in my life one at a time. My house is on fucking fire, Knight,” Dad boomed, his voice ricocheting off the walls.
The entire hallway shook with his dark tenor. Nurses and patients peeked out of half-ajar doors, bug-eyed, and two male nurses straightened from their slumped positions against the reception booth and headed in our direction.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and say it?” I smiled sardonically, opening my arms. “You wish you hadn’t adopted me. One less bullshit problem to deal with, right? But you knew this was going to happen. She did, too. You knew we’d be here someday, and you still had us.”
Asshole, drunk Knight had struck again. I really hated my intoxicated alter ego. He had no filters whatsoever.
What was I saying? Why was I saying this? Because there was a part of me that believed it to be true. My mother knew she was going to die young. She’d still adopted me. She’d still had Lev. His name meant heart in Hebrew, but it was lungs she needed. It was her lungs that failed her. And our hearts were broken.
“You set me up for this,” I accused. “You gave me a family you knew was temporary.”
“Newsflash, Knight. Life is temporary. Your mom could’ve been perfectly healthy and gotten run over by a truck ten years ago. Just because you take life for granted doesn’t mean it is.”
“Okay, Oprah. Spin this shit to suit yourself.” I laughed bitterly, turning away and starting for the nearest door before we both exploded.
By the way my father’s face had morphed from angry to shocked, I gathered my diplomatic skills were lacking while under the influence. The nurses clapped our shoulders, ushering us down the hallway.
“Emotions are running high, gentlemen. We understand this, but you need to take it outside. Get some fresh air. Calm down. We’ll let you know if there’s any change.”
Any change? What did they mean, change? I let my legs carry me to the balcony off the first floor of the hospital. Dad and I stood outdoors, ignoring the drizzle. He shook his head, staring up at the black sky, letting the rain pour down on his face. He closed his eyes, looking half-dead. He raked his fingers through his hair and a chunk of it was left between his fingers. Jesus.
“You’re an asshole for reducing Luna to being just a girl,” I muttered, fishing for my phone in my pocket.
Dixie again. I killed the call.
Why can’t you die, Dix? Why does it have to be Rosie?
“You’re an asshole for judging your mom for having you and Lev,” Dad retorted, pacing.
I wondered what the fuck was going on, but didn’t want to ask, because I knew he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.
“I’m going to see her.” I tested the water, pretending to make my way to the door. Dad curled his fingers around my bicep, pulling me back.
“Don’t,” he warned.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because?” I gauged, assessing him coldly.
I was getting tired of being strong. Being indifferent. Being someone I wasn’t.
He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut. “Because she’s in a coma.”
Know how sometimes people say their entire world crumbled? I never quite understood what they meant until this moment. The moment where everything in my life shattered, collapsing one brick at a time. I toppled backward, my back hitting the wall, then slid down until my ass hit the damp ground. Dad stood in front of me, his head hung between his shoulders—a lowered, defeated flag. I immediately knew this wasn’t about my drinking or the drugs. Neither Dad nor Mom knew the extent of the trouble I’d gotten myself into this year.
This is about Mom.
“How?” I heard myself asking.
“They put her in a chemically induced coma for her end-stage cystic fibrosis.”
“When?”
“Earlier today.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice escalated into a scream.
“So, what? You’d fly back home thinking about it the entire time? Her hooked up to a ventilator, dying?”
“Dying?” I realized I sounded like a dumbass, but couldn’t help it.
What was I expecting to happen? For her to walk swiftly out of this place? Maybe do cartwheels all the way to the parking lot? It was too late for a lung transplant, too late for experimental treatments, too late, period.
Dad shook his head. It occurred to me that I needed to be there for him like he was there for me. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even breathe. I shook my head, stood up, and stalked back into the ICU, slapping the glass door, flinging it open. I could hear Dad’s footsteps foll
owing me.
I took out my phone, ignoring the five missed calls from Dixie, and texted Luna.
Knight: My mom is in a coma.
Her answer came not even a minute later.
Luna: On my way.
A bottle of whiskey.
Two more Xanax.
One Adderall because I needed to concentrate on shit in class. (See? Responsible adult.)
That was basically my menu for Monday, as Dad hurled me into Vaughn’s car and insisted I go to school. I fought him on it. Of course I did. What kid goes to school when his mom is in a coma?
“This one does.” Dad slammed the passenger door in my face, ignoring Vaughn, and Hunter in the back seat. “It’s chemically induced. We have the situation under control. Show up to class, do your best, come back here, and we’ll see her together.”
I opened my mouth to argue again, but clamped it shut when Hunter, behind me, said, “We’ll take good care of him, sir.”
“Hunter…” Dad dug his fingers into his eye sockets. “No offense, but I wouldn’t trust you with an ant. Unfortunately, I have my plate full right now. Just go.”
The entire way to school, Vaughn stole glances at me with his slanted, icy-blue eyes. I realized things were dire when even he was on his best behavior. Dude didn’t do pity and didn’t cut corners. He had a mean streak a mile long and never missed an opportunity to kick you while you were down.
“Not sure drinking yourself into liver failure is the best course of action right now.” He moved his gum from side to side in his mouth.
“Not sure I asked for your fucking medical opinion,” I snapped, leaning my head against the window and closing my eyes.
Hunter sucked in a charged breath behind us. Someone pounded their fists from the inside of my head to my eyes.
I was pretty sure it was Dixie.
Hunter pulled my head off of a toilet in the school’s bathroom. My face was wet. My hair dripped down my Armani shirt. I knew it was Hunter because I heard his voice growling, but I couldn’t for the life of me open my eyes.
“This is even more pathetic than dying on the toilet seat. Fuckboy literally almost drowned inside a toilet.”