“Her miracle?” I questioned curiously. “Why?”
“When I was born, I was sick. I wasn’t as healthy as they thought I’d be. I had heart problems and they’d even told her I probably wouldn’t live past five…” He choked and I squeezed his hand, begging him not to stop. “It was my birthday. I was turning four and my mom threw a huge birthday party for me. She never told me I had a chance of dying—that I was sick. I didn’t find out until I was twelve and the only reason I found out then is because my dad yelled it at me while he was drunk one night. Had I known why she was throwing such a huge party for me, I wouldn’t have relished in it. I would have been bitter, angry at her.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“That same night she came in and kissed me goodnight. She told me she loved me so much, and I thought she was just being an emotional mom. Her tears confused me, but I was young. I couldn’t question it like I wanted to. If I would’ve known what she was going to do, I would’ve stopped her. I would’ve begged on my knees for her not to go.”
Gage choked again, his grip tightening around my hand. I adjusted myself beside him to get a good look at his face. A tear had fallen down his cheek. I gasped, reaching to brush it away. “What happened to her?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be recollecting his breath. He was reliving the memory and I hated how torn he looked. “My mom died to give me her heart. So I could live on… She gave it to me. We had the same blood type and she was tired of waiting on someone else’s heart, so she…”
I gasped again as more tears ran from his eyes. He shut his eyelids, lowering his head and most likely reliving the memory. “Gage, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pulling him against me to hug him.
He sobbed a little, swiped at his face, and then pulled away, inhaling deeply. “I would have done anything to stop her. My mom meant so much to me. When I found out she passed away, Kristina told me it was just her time to go. She never went into detail, and I didn’t think on it when I’d gone into surgery two days later and came out a healthy boy. My mom told me over and over again that she would die for me. That she would give up everything for me. I used to believe her, but I never thought she’d literally do it.”
“Oh,” I mumbled. “So where is Kristina now?”
He shook his head and glared at his lap. “I don’t know.” I remained silent. How could he not know where his own sister was? Before I could ask, he spoke up again. “A few years after my surgery, we moved from Texas to Virginia. Kris begged my dad to get us an apartment so we could move out, and he did, but of course he didn’t do it for free. Kris had to pay him back. My dad was and still is a huge dick, and the only reason I’m glad he’s a part of my life is because he gave the band and me our breakthrough. He introduced us to Ben and Ben took it from there, setting us up on gigs, traveling for talent shows, singing at parties, until finally we were picked up and given a record deal.”
“Ben knows your dad?” I frowned. That was news to me.
“Yeah. He met my dad at his… strip club.” He looked at me sheepishly and I laughed a little. “My dad owns a chain of strip clubs, and I hated it. He worked late nights, went in early for no apparent reason. I don’t like what my dad did to my mom before she died. He broke her heart in more ways than one. He cheated on her countlessly with women he didn’t even know… At least that’s what Kris told me. We traveled so much that no place seemed like home except Suffolk.” Gage clamped his mouth shut, looking at me again. “I guess he’s a part of the reason I thought it was okay to do it as well. He was the only man around when I was younger. I thought it was cool he always had chicks on his hip. When I was a teenager, I knew it was wrong, but it felt good to do.”
I pursed my lips, shaking my head teasingly. “You’re drifting from Kristina again.”
“Oh, right.” He adjusted himself against the headboard, clearing his throat. “Well, after Kris and I moved out, we used to stop by my dad’s club every week so she could get some money from him to pay certain bills. Kris searched all over for a job, but no one would hire her because… Well, she’s, like, a girl version of me—tattoos, bed hair, love for music, kinda careless. We had the same characteristics, and I think that’s why I loved her so much—not only because she was my sister, but because she was like a best friend as well. After my mom died, Kris was the one who raised me. We hardly ever had a penny and she hated asking my dad for money but did so anyway because she knew he’d give it to us. He’d only give it after a lecture, though. He’d always ask her to join the strip club and dance for him. He would tell her over and over again that she wouldn’t have to worry about a dime, but she always refused. She would tell him over and over again that she had responsibilities—taking care of me.
“It wasn’t until I was ten years old when things started to change. When Kris started drifting from me. She’d leave me home alone sometimes. She’d leave a note on the counter telling me to fix a sandwich and chips for dinner and to go to bed on time. I broke the curfew a few times while waiting on her. One night I wished I hadn’t.” Gage’s features hardened as he pressed his lips together. “She came home drunk with matted hair, wearing fishnet stockings and too much perfume. Her makeup was smeared; her breath reeked of alcohol—she just didn’t look like the Kris I knew. This started happening after she’d gotten raped. I could understand her pain, but I was upset she was trashing herself.
“I helped her get undressed, helped her into the shower, and even helped her get into bed that night. She kept shivering and I didn’t know what else to do, so I curled up against her side to try and keep her warm. She still quaked, but it wasn’t as hard. I knew exactly what was happening to her, so that night I made her promise to stay away from Dad and his club. I made her promise she would find a real job and come home to me like she was supposed to. She was all I had. I didn’t want to lose her, too.”
I bit my bottom lip, thinking he’d continue, but he remained silent, his eyes distant. “Did she stop?”
He laughed humorlessly. “If she stopped, I wouldn’t be so upset with her right now. I would know where she is. Who she’s dating and what she’s doing every day.”
“Oh,” I whispered. It was all I could manage. I could see the pain in his glistening eyes, but he was trying to fight it.
“I won’t act like she didn’t try, though. She did. That same night she kissed my forehead and said, ‘Okay, kiddo.’ She did well for the next five years. She found a job at a retail store and went to work every morning while I went to school. She’d pick me up after school and we’d go out to eat, to the park, or just go home and hang around the house and watch movies. We’d make songs together, play our guitars—she taught me how to play—and we’d be our own band. It was fun… but then she started disappearing again. When it happened again, I was fifteen. It was my freshman year and I’d just met Deed, Roy, and Montana. They occupied most of my time and sometimes I’d come home late from a night out with them… but she still wouldn’t be home.
“Then one night, I knew I couldn’t face her again. I came home from practicing guitars with Roy at the park. It was late when I got back—around three in the morning maybe. I remember it was the weekend. Shower water was running when I stepped in, so I knew she was home. It wasn’t until after I’d eaten a bowl of cereal, changed into pajamas, and then slid between my sheets that I realized how long she’d actually been in the shower. I scrambled out of bed and rushed for the bathroom. To my luck, it was unlocked, but I hated what I saw. She was bent over in the tub, her head hanging beneath the shower water. It was cold. I felt it as I pulled her against me in a panic. She had vomit on her shirt, in her hair, on her too-short dress. She looked like complete shit and it freaked me out.
“The next morning, Kris was nowhere to be found. The next week, she was nowhere to be found. The next month, still nowhere to be found. I picked up two part-time jobs and in between those, I had school and then I would practice with the band. I was exhausted, ready for it
all to end. I was on the verge of dropping out one time, but I didn’t. It was hard not to do, but I motivated myself to keep going.
“I hated Kris for so long. She promised me she would give up on it. She promised she would always be here for me—that she’d always take care of me. She promised that she would be just as caring and sweet as Mom. She promised that when my dream happened, she would be backstage, rooting me on. She broke all her promises. I haven’t seen Kris since I was nineteen years old. It kills me to know it’s been five years.
“The last time I talked to her was when the band had just signed our record deal. We were happy, money was rolling in, and I’d even bought my own condo. I don’t know how Kris found me, but she showed up at my doorstep one day. She looked terrible, Eliza. Sick,” he said, his eyes horrified. “She was skinnier than I’d ever seen her before. Bags were beneath her eyes; her hair was matted; her lips were chapped. She said she was okay, but I knew she was doing every drug in the book. Of course I let her in. She was still my sister. I still loved her. I even let her stay at my place that night and begged her not to leave.
“She did anyway… and she took most of the money I had in my closet. She… robbed me. And I hated her. It took years for me to forgive her. I got drunk as hell one day and called my dad to ask for her number. It was stupid of me, but I ended up cursing her out. I was pissed. Unfortunately, Penelope showed up and heard every single word. She’d even found out my sister’s name. Now you see why I have to keep her close. She knows too much. I don’t want her ratting me or my family out, and as upset as I am with Kris, I don’t want anyone figuring out who she is or where she is and blasting it. I’d rather her be a nobody than for the whole world to know I have a damn crackhead for a sister. I still love her.”
I nodded, squeezing his hand.
He sighed, tears pricking at the rims of his eyes as he looked away. “I miss her… every day. I miss my mom. I miss them so much, and I wish my mom never sacrificed herself because if she hadn’t, Kris never would have taken that route. She never would have gotten raped. Never would have turned into a stripper. A druggie.”
“But you wouldn’t be where you are now, Gage. Your mom loved you,” I said.
He swallowed, shaking his head. “I know. It just… it hurts so fucking much. I would give it all up to be reunited with them again. I’d give up everything if my mom had a chance to come back.”
Gage clutched the edge of the bed, a tear falling down his cheek. I reached to wipe it, but more continued to fall and, eventually, he started sobbing. I held on to him as he let it all out. Now I knew why it was so hard for him to talk about it. Gage used to have a hard life. A terrible past. We had a lot in common and that frightened me. Now I knew why he didn’t want to let me go, why he always compared me to Kristina.
He went numb after she disappeared. While he was with her, he was happy, loved. His sister was his world; I knew it. He loved her deeply and I could tell by how much he was crying in my arms. Gage put all his emotions on hold until he met me. With me, he loved again, and knowing it made my heart ache even more. It was only getting harder for me to leave.
After a few minutes Gage finally settled down, clutching on to me as if I were going to let him go. His face was buried in my neck, his breathing light as it ran down my chest. I sighed, kissing his cheek. “You can tell me another time,” he whispered.
I nodded, understanding his statement, glad because I wasn’t up for freaking out and panicking. I had my inhaler in my bag, but I hated touching it because touching it meant I’d been thinking about my mom, the she-devil. Eventually we fell asleep in each other’s arms. He’d fallen asleep before me and before I drifted, I was thinking way too much.
I was worried—afraid I’d hurt him again. I didn’t want to hurt him like Kristina did, but I knew leaving was only going to rip his heart in half. I was torn, stuck between my life and my future and his heart. Each minute I thought on it, it got harder and harder for me to breathe, but I inhaled, holding him close and forcing myself to shut my eyes.
I didn’t know what I was going to do and time was only winding down. I had to let him know sooner or later.
The following morning, Gage and I called room service for some breakfast. I went with cinnamon-flavored oatmeal and sliced bananas, while Gage went with a simple bowl of cold cereal.
While we were eating, it kind of bothered me that he wasn’t saying much. Yes, he was still smiling and touching me, but it seemed a little off. I tried to think nothing of it, but every time I would look into his eyes, there were millions of questions behind them. There was also grief and hurt from last night.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked after finishing my cereal.
He looked at me over his bowl of cereal, his head nodding. “Fine, Ellie.”
“Are you sure? You seem kind of… off.”
He smirked, slurping down his milk before setting his bowl on the table. “I’m great, Ellie. I feel much better about last night, but… I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay.” I straightened myself, dropping my spoon into my bowl. “Go ahead.”
“There are two things I wanna talk about.”
I nodded, gulping, and he sighed, running a hand through his wet hair.
“First thing is your PTSD. Tell me about it. Why it happens, how you control it… so on. You were trembling last night and whimpering. I didn’t know whether to wake you or leave you, but you woke yourself.”
“I did?” I whispered.
He nodded, but I couldn’t remember waking up at all.
I swallowed again, folding my fingers on top of the table. Behind Gage there was the window that revealed the New York harbor and the boats and yachts at bay. A few seagulls stirred around the sails, flapping diligently, twisting and turning. Before the sunrise, it was truly a beautiful sight.
“My mom…” I trailed off, shutting my eyes briefly and seeing her face appear. Gage’s chair scraped across the floor and I looked up just as he was standing to bring his chair beside me.
“What about her?” he asked.
“She was a bitch.” I laughed dryly. He didn’t smile, though. His face was stern, waiting for me to provide more. “Let’s just say she’s the worst mom on the planet. Since I’ve started storing memories, all the ones I have of her are terrible. She was manipulative, abusive, deceiving. She knew nothing about the value of family—nothing about protecting her own flesh and blood.” I gripped my spoon, but he leaned forward, loosening my grip and lacing his fingers with mine. “Should I start with my worst memory of her?” I asked, forcing a smile.
“If that’s what you’d like me to hear,” he whispered, watching my face intently. I gripped his hand, forcing myself not to break down. I was told over and over again by Ben not to relive it—to just forget about it—but being with Gage was making me think about it all over again. My past. My pain. All of it.
“Well… I had just turned thirteen. I was no longer a child, but a teenager, and quite frankly, I was excited about it. I didn’t expect my mom to get me anything for my birthday, but usually she would be a bit more lenient and leave me alone. At least she knew when my birthdays were.” I shrugged. He smiled.
“I remember it like it was yesterday. The day my mom got married, it was a few weeks after my thirteenth birthday. Her husband’s name was Jeremy. He had a beer belly, was balding; his teeth were rotten, and he had terrible body odor. I didn’t know what my mom saw in him. She was a bitch, yes, but she’s a spitting image of me. Pale skin and all. But she’s gorgeous. Same light-blue eyes, same nose, mouth, cheeks, and dimples. The only difference is her hair is darker and sandier than mine, but we’re complete opposites. I admit, I get my personality from Ben.” I lifted a lock of my hair, twirling it around my finger. I could feel Gage staring at me, but I was no longer looking his way. I was zoned in on my empty bowl, my eyes completely distant, remembering it all.
“Jeremy was cool at first. We hardly talked to one another and that’s why I
thought he was a nice guy—because he didn’t bother me. He worked for a plumbing company and worked early mornings and late nights. Sometimes he wouldn’t come home and I would find my mom crying in her bedroom, most likely over him. He was a cheater… a liar. Then there was one night during my eighth-grade year when things turned… bad.
“I was drawing at our dining table. Jeremy came home around one that morning and his eyes were bloodshot red. His clothes were all sloppy and disgusting, and as soon as he stepped in, his gaze locked on mine. Only his was deadly. Mom sat up on the sofa and stared at him. She was groggy, but she knew just as well as I did what was about to happen. She stood up and looked directly at me. ‘I told her,’ she said, pointing at me. ‘I told her exactly what you said and she didn’t do it. She didn’t wanna.’
“Jeremy slammed the door and I remember being scared shitless. ‘Then I guess a punishment is necessary for disobeyin’,’ he said. I was terrified. I’d never heard him sound so dark or even seen my mom quake with fear over him that much. Jeremy came for me and gripped my arm, and I yelped because his grip was way too tight. I remember it leaving a bruise that I had to cover up for weeks. My heart was beating a mile a minute as he yanked me in front of him, gripped a lock of hair on the back of my head, and shoved me on the floor.” I pressed my lips as my throat dried out. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling Gage squeeze my hand in his. A few kisses were placed on my cheek, my temple, and my forehead, until he whispered to me that it was okay and to keep going. I nodded, swallowing down all the emotion.
“He dragged me to my mom’s bedroom…” My voice broke as I squeezed my eyes tighter, but I couldn’t fight the tears or the memories. “He… tossed me on the bed… and my mom was just standing there, watching everything. He kept repeating how he needed the money, how important it was to him and how he was going to teach me a lesson. Mom just smirked and folded her arms, shaking her head at me. I hated her so much for not helping, even when I was crying out to her—even when I begged her to protect me. What she said hurt me more than anything, and to this day I always hear her say it. ‘I’m sorry, Liza, but you knew this was important. When we need money, it’s not a joke. Should’ve done what was asked of you.’”
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