As horrible as it was, that last incident with Bryan and Chris had made me see one thing clear as day: It was very possible to stick around to help someone much longer than was necessary. It was even possible to hang on to the feeling of being needed so long and so hard that, when it was time to let go, leaving them could become almost too difficult to bear.
The next day, I sat with Mom while I told her I was going back to Philly.
I explained everything—the move back here just to take care of her, my apologies for not being around more, how I’d tried so hard to take care of her that I’d barely taken care of myself. Big fat salty drops rolled down my cheeks.
“You know, Querida, I’m not sure you remember that little baby bird you found when you were in school.”
My eyes narrowed, and I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“You found it in that park we used to walk in when I had evenings off. We’d have dinner together and then go walking, remember? When it finally cooled off.”
“Yes, I remember that,” I said quietly.
“Well, one spring, you found this baby bird on the ground. Its nest was in a low bush, and somehow it had fallen out. It was so new it couldn’t even make a sound. Its mother was in the nest, but she didn’t see him or didn’t want him. You took off your shoe and your outer t-shirt and made a little bed for it. Carried it the whole way home. You gave it water and went to the pet store to figure out what to feed it. You were such a squeamish little girl, but you mashed up worms to give to that bird by hand. You woke up every hour during the night to check on it.”
“I remember now. A little.” I whispered. I couldn’t believe that something so fuzzy in my memory, something that had happened ten long years ago, was as crystal clear in my mother’s memory as if it had happened yesterday.
“Well, I let you stay home from school for four days,” she said, patting my hand on the last two words. “And wouldn’t you know, the baby bird learned to chirp. He even sat upright. You were so proud, like you had saved the world. And then, on the fifth day, he became weak…”
“…and by that night, he was dead.” Remembering it, I was crushed all over again.
”You cried so long and so hard I just knew your sweet heart was broken. You wandered around sick for weeks. You didn’t talk to your friends. I had just started to become worried about you when you snapped out of it. You were so crushed by the fact that you couldn’t save even that tiniest of lives, that you couldn’t fix what you simply couldn’t fix.”
“I guess you’re right,” I murmured as tears formed in my eyes.
She smiled and squeezed my hand again. “Your heart loves for other people so deep and so hard, Andrea, that when your love doesn’t make things all better, you think you’re worthless.”
“Mamá, you are my best friend. In the whole world. When you were so hurt, I couldn’t be away from you anymore. And then when you were scared…”
“I know, Andi, and I would do the same for you. But I’m not hurt anymore, and I’m not scared now, you know? I’m happier every day. I’m lucky that Mike is so kind and so patient and is the man he is.”
I thought back to my conversation with Mike. If I really thought about it for longer than an intensely-emotional second, my mom had ended up with the best kind of guy for exactly this situation.
“I know you have to go back to Philadelphia. I’m not happy that you’ll be getting two Ds in classes, mostly because I know you’ll never forgive yourself. So to make up for it, I want you to call me every day. No excuses.”
I laughed. “Mamá, you know I would do that anyway.”
She smiled, swiped one of my tears away with her thumb, and pulled my face to hers, kissing both of my cheeks. Just like she used to do when I was a little girl. “I love you so much. That was the first thing I remembered when I was conscious after the accident. How very much I love you.”
“Yeah?” The tears were pouring now. I didn’t even try to stop them.
“That kind of love? It doesn’t matter whether it’s ten minutes or 10,000 miles away. Okay?”
“Okay.” I gave her one last hug and said, “I’ll text you when I land, okay?”
Mom held up the flight schedule I’d brought her and peered at it. “Perfect. It’ll be right after Jeopardy.”
Mike stood in the kitchen, reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee. He held it up to me in a mock-cheers motion. “She remembered that I’m not allowed to drink coffee in the living room,” he said, looking perfectly content with the new restriction.
I laughed, even though that brought even more tears. Mom had had the living room carpet done in white, something she said had always been a dream of hers after living in dingy apartments with dirty carpets. This place was hers, she said, and she was going to have her beautiful floor—one not even Mike, with his four-cup-a-day habit, would have a chance to ruin.
He set the coffee down and walked around the small kitchen island to shake my hand. “Thank you for everything you did, Andi. I know she needed you here.”
I nodded, a huge lump taking up residence in my throat. “I needed to be here, too.” As he let go of my hand, I reached my arms out and pulled him into a hug. “I’m really, really, really glad you’re here with her,” I whispered, and he squeezed me extra tightly before letting me go. And I realized I really, really meant it.
I sighed as I walked down the concrete stairs to the big silver truck where Bryan had been patiently waiting for me for the last 20 minutes. His injury felt considerably better, he said, after the events of last night, but I didn’t believe him for a second. I didn’t care as much as I probably should have either.
Las Vegas seems big, but it’s actually just a lot of places pretending to be big in a very small space. The airport was only fifteen minutes from my mom’s house, and we spent the whole rumbling ride in silence. When we got close enough to it to see the signs, I read off the name of my airline from the sheet—and realized that the ticket had cost nearly $1,500. We’d never been serious enough to discuss finances, but between paying for Chris’s addiction and whatever else in his life, I knew he didn’t have that kind of money. I gulped but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his fault, what Chris had done, but I didn’t really have a choice. I had to accept his help.
When Bryan turned away from the terminal drop-off road and toward the parking garages, I looked at him, feeling a hopefulness in my chest. I hadn’t been able to find many words for last night, but what I had felt before Chris had stormed in on us and taken everything I had left was still true. I still loved him. But between his dedication to a brother who was so broken and the fact that we’d be living across the country, I just didn’t know if I could be with him, which hurt more than anything.
When he parked in the garage, he asked, “Can I walk you in? Wait with you?”
I swallowed the thickness in my throat. “My flight leaves in an hour and a half. It’s not much time.”
“I know, but I don’t want to waste a second with you. I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again.”
I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again, and I still had to tell him that. Breaking that to him would be hard. Really hard. So I just nodded and let him carry my duffel bag, admiring the way his shoulders flexed when he hoisted it up. I’d never see him shirtless again. What weeks ago would have been a horny college student’s hormone-driven thought was now tinged with deep sadness. When he held me, I’d felt more treasured and protected than I ever had before.
But the last two days had taught me that I couldn’t expect anyone to really treasure me, to really protect me, if I didn’t do the same for myself.
We made small talk on the walk into the terminal, joking about the ridiculous amount of patron-less slot machines that covered almost every floor surface in the airport, while the phone-charging stations were crowded with people. I’d always known Vegas was a
different world, but it had never been as true to me as it was when I realized that gambling really was literally everywhere in this place.
Bryan bought me a cup of coffee, not even needing to ask how I took it—black—and we settled down in the chairs outside the security check. We sipped quietly for a few minutes. Sitting together in comfortable silence had been something we’d gotten really good at. Aside from the mind-blowing sex, that would be the thing I missed the most about him.
Finally, I turned to him and said, “We need to talk.”
He swallowed hard and stared at his hands. “I know.”
For the first time ever, I wanted to be emotionally close to him, but not physically close. I didn’t want to hold his hand to show him something; I just wanted him to hear my words. No complications, no misunderstandings. No sparks flying between us, muddling the meaning of my words.
My stomach twisted and churned, and I forced the words out before I could decide against saying it. “I love you, Bryan.”
His eyes flew to mine, and his mouth dropped open. “I—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted. “Don’t say anything back. I don’t really want to know either way. Not yet.”
His expression wilted. I took a deep, shuddering breath, internally screaming at myself for what I was about to say. “Your life is a mess,” I said. “I don’t mean that in a bad way or a judgmental way. I don’t think your job is bad, and I don’t think your dedication to your brother is bad. At all. But it’s the kind of mess I really can’t be in the middle of right now because I’ve made a big enough mess of my own life as it is. I’ve spent way too long taking care of everyone else and then expecting someone to be there to take care of me. Relying on it—relying on you—I can’t do it anymore. I won’t.”
“Andi, baby, I—”
“Bryan,” I said, my voice starting to break. “Don’t. Just…don’t. I’m getting on the plane right now. I’m going to get my life back in order.” I sighed. “If we’re not meant to be together, it’s okay. I’m choosing myself. I only want us to be together if you’re all in, if you can choose what you want over what you think he needs.” And there it was. My throat choked with pain, and a fat tear spilled down my cheek. I meant every word I was saying—why didn’t that make it any easier?
Bryan reached up and swiped the tear from my cheek, and that just made four more tumble down in its place.
“My life is in Philly and, pretty soon after that, D.C. If I don’t graduate, move, and do that fellowship, I will always regret it. If your life has to be in Vegas, it’s okay. But mine can’t be. You understand that, don’t you?”
He nodded, reaching for me and pressing his forehead to mine. I let him because, by now, snot had started to fill my nose, and I knew my eyes were red. I knew I was already a mess—just as big a mess, if not bigger, than I was the day I arrived here, the day I had met Bryan.
“I want to hear about everything. Keep in touch, okay? But I can’t. Not the way things are.”
“I know,” he said in a strangled voice. I could hear the pain in his words, but I had no idea if they would translate to his heart or to his actions.
I pulled a big tan envelope out of my purse. “I got this from Carol. It’s an application to that rehab program at St. Christopher’s. I know you said it wasn’t possible, but I thought maybe you’d change your mind. The deadline for application for the second round is in a month.”
Bryan sighed and took it, which surprised me. Maybe he was willing to stand up to Chris, cut his ties to this life that was only sort of what he wanted once and for all. But I couldn’t press it because I couldn’t make that decision for him, no matter how much I loved him.
Just like I was the only one who could make my decisions for me. I had no way of knowing whether my heart would waste away with missing him, whether I would regret leaving Bryan every second of my life. The only way to find out was to do what I had to do for me, no matter how much it sucked to actually take that first step toward doing it. I was finally taking care of myself. Not waiting for someone else to do it for me.
Finally, I pried myself off the seat. My flight left in twenty minutes, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Bryan stood faster than I did and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. Every single other time he’d done it, I’d felt that telltale column of pressure that told me exactly where his mind was, and I’d loved it. Today, I didn’t feel it at all.
I loved that even more.
He pulled me up, lifting my feet off the ground, and kissed me so hard it took my breath away. He followed it with soft, lingering kisses, pausing between them as if he wanted to say something, even though he didn’t speak a word.
More tears ran down my cheeks, and I sniffled hard when I saw his red eyes, brimming with tears. “I’ll call you when I land, okay?”
“Before or after your mom?” he said with a smile.
“I’ll call you,” I repeated. “I’m only texting her.”
With that, I slowly pulled away from his arms, shouldered my duffel bag, and walked to security. I forced my gaze forward until the very last minute. While the guard was checking my ID and boarding pass, I shot one last look over my shoulder. Bryan stood there, in exactly the same position, watching me. He looked like his best friend had just left him forever.
And maybe I had.
Epilogue
I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my forearm since my hands were dirty as hell after moving four dozen boxes—all my possessions in the world. It was amazing what a girl could accumulate over two years in the same Philly apartment. I waved goodbye to the moving guys, mostly paid for by the last of my Shooting Starr money. I’d gladly written the check, thinking of it as the most appropriate way to say goodbye to Vegas and that part of my life once and for all. Now I was in D.C., where I’d always planned to be. It was almost like the car crash had never happened.
Well, except for Bryan.
A week after I’d gotten back to Philly, Bryan and I had started talking on the phone again. It took everything in me not to talk about how I’d left him, not to ask if he loved me, too. But despite that, we basically picked up right where we’d left off those few days before everything had gone to shit—talking about the weather and the most ridiculous reality shows out there. I even played video games with him, the controller in my hands and the phone on speaker. The first time I blew his damn zombie head off, I’d tossed the controller and started to do a victory dance before I remembered the last time I’d done it and started choking up before I hastily told him I had to go.
During the first half of my last semester in college, I’d learned one important thing: I couldn’t let my need to take care of other people get in the way of taking care of myself, and neither could Bryan.
And that I didn’t need him, or anyone, taking care of me, no matter how badly I wanted it.
That was why, no matter how many times we’d fallen asleep talking on the phone or how often my finger had hovered over the button to buy a last-minute weekend flight to Vegas, I always, always kept myself from talking about whatever it was between us. I knew I couldn’t change his life for him, and I knew I wasn’t willing to change mine.
Even though it might be breaking my heart more and more every day, I knew I had to accept it. There might not be a future for us.
I’d poured myself into being the Andi I was before the car wreck; before emergency relocation to Vegas; before meeting the sweetest, sexiest guy on the planet. I loaded up with allergy meds in the spring and traded a ridiculous amount of shifts at the hospital to make sure I didn’t miss a single lecture or lab. I did meticulous work on even the most boring assignments and ended up passing all my classes by the skin of my teeth.
Those two C minuses were the lowest grades I’d gotten my entire four years at Drexel, but they were also the hardest-fought. Even though I’d given up my summa cum laude degree
, I was damn proud of the fact that I’d done it for Mom. Really, those long weeks in Vegas had been just as important for my growth as they’d been for her healing. I’d learned that I couldn’t take care of everyone all the time and that, no matter what, the most important thing was taking care of myself, even if it meant leaving people I loved behind.
With the movers gone and surrounded by boxes in my new apartment in D.C., I collapsed on my new-to-me couch and stared for a few minutes at the view out my window. Most of it was a stunning view of the neighbors’ brick wall, but just to the right, there was a glimpse of blue sky and an electrical line where two birds perched. I had neighbors and wildlife. I had four walls to call my own, and I had a dream job to wake up and travel to every morning. This being-in-D.C.-all-by-my-lonesome thing might actually be okay.
There was a knock at the door, jerking me from my exhaustion.
“I swear,” I grumbled. “I am so not in the mood for a welcome wagon.” But I hauled my sweaty ass off the couch and opened it anyway.
A kid with a face full of zits stood at the door, carrying a food delivery bag that said “Jeno’s Steaks” in big, yellow bubble letters. “Delivery for Andrea Herrera?”
I grinned. Whoever had sent me cheesesteaks on my first night in a new place was my new favorite person. “Must be from my mom,” I said, digging in my pocket for a tip.
“Doesn’t say,” the kid said. “But I’m supposed to give you this—” He dug a small white envelope out of the bottom of the bag. “—and wait till you read it and say you accept delivery.”
“Um…okay. That’s weird.” Maybe Mom hadn’t been able to pay for it or something, and I needed to give him the cash. I slid the two Styrofoam boxes—way too much food for me to eat myself—onto the small area of clear countertop in my kitchen and tore open the envelope.
A giddy grin spread across my face when I saw Bryan’s handwriting.
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