Angel (Pieces #1.5)

by Canosa, Jamie

  The weight of responsibility settled firmly on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. A deep, painful ache clenched the back of my throat and the sting of tears forced my eyes shut.

  “Please, Mom. I’m here. I’m right here.” But I would never be enough. No matter what I did. No matter what I said. Kiernan would leave us. And when that happened, I’d never be enough to fill the hole it left in her heart. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

  And it broke. The solid cement casing around my heart splintered into a thousand pieces, slicing my insides like shrapnel. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  A black cloud settled over us. With each breath, I drew it in. Felt it filling up that hollow place inside of me with cold, unrelenting darkness. I knew that darkness. I’d been fighting it off day and night for over a year. But my defenses were down. I’d shown a moment of weakness. And it wasted no time invading.

  The darkness had thorns and needles and claws and fangs. It shredded me from the inside out. Tearing away at my heart, my soul, my flesh. The pain was excruciating.

  I wanted to scream, but the sound died on my parted lips. I needed to cry. To weep and wail like my mother. To find some sort of release. A way to spit out the vile blackness devouring me. But the tears wouldn’t come. The agony, the fury, the bitterness, the grief. All of it, caged so tightly, would never find an escape. It would only grow and grow until I couldn’t contain it anymore. And then . . . Then, we were all in trouble.

  Silent shudders wracked my tormented body. As the moon sailed silently across the window, I fought a private battle against my despair, while Mom surrendered to hers. When she grew heavy against my chest, I knew that exhaustion had finally won out.

  Scooping her into my arms, I struggled up the stairs. I felt weak. As though someone had pulled a plug and drained all of the strength from me, body and soul. The day had taken its toll and left me broke. I had nothing more to give.

  After tucking Mom into her own bed, I dragged my feet down the hall. My phone clattered to the floor as I stripped off my jeans and a pale blue, pulsing light filled the room, indicating the seven missed calls I had. All from Beth.

  Dammit. The study group. I was completely screwed.

  The shadows of my bedroom closed in around me. Suffocating me. Crushing me. How much longer could I do this? How much longer could I go on like this? I was running on empty and saw no end in sight.

  The sound of Mom’s cries mingled with Jade’s in the silent room. So much heartbreak. So much misery.

  And above it all, came the sound of my own sorrow.

  “I’m so sorry I’m not enough.”

  Ten

  We’d been home from the hospital for less than an hour and the mood in the house had plummeted to somewhere in the neighborhood of morose. Mom was locked in her office, avoiding me I assumed given that she hadn’t been able to look me in the eye all morning. And Kiernan was up in his room, listening to some kind of emo music. On a loop.

  I was so sick of the seemingly requisite moping that came along with each and every reminder of Kiernan’s condition. It’s not like we ever managed to forget about it, but each time something like this happened it felt like we all needed to go through a period of mourning. Why? He wasn’t dead. Wasn’t that something to be celebrated?

  And yet, the house was every bit the depressing scene I was certain Jade feared she’d be walking into any minute. Well, screw that.

  “Mom?” I knocked on her door and waited for her to open it. She couldn’t avoid me forever.

  “Cal?” Her hair was arranged in perfect curls cascading around her shoulders and she’d spent hours on her makeup. She wore a pressed outfit that I rarely saw outside of special events and a set of matching, delicate jewelry. Every line, every button, every curl in place. As though she needed to prove to . . . Me? Her? Everyone? That she was still in control after losing it the night before. “Did you need something?”

  “Yeah. I was thinking . . . We skipped breakfast this morning, and Kiernan’s had nothing but hospital food since yesterday . . . Jade’s coming over and she’s never had your stew. Maybe you could make some for lunch?”

  Asking Mom if she wanted to cook was like asking a golden retriever if it wanted to play fetch. The definition of a dumb question. When her eyes finally reached mine and I saw that light in them I hadn’t seen in two days, I knew I’d nailed it.

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” She turned back into her office, leaving the door open, and I watched her power down her computer. “I should have all of the ingredients I need, but if not I’ll make a quick run to the store. Why don’t you see if you can get your brother to come downstairs while I raid the pantry?”

  “Sure.” Dragging Kiernan’s butt out of bed had been next on my to-do list, anyway.

  Sticking his favorite video game in the console—the one I spent far too much time practicing, while he was at school—I cranked the volume and headed upstairs. I needed something up my sleeve to lure him out of isolation at times like these, and his competitive nature usually did the trick.

  “Hey. How are you feeling?”

  Kiernan groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. “Tired. And if one more person asks me that, I’m going to—”

  “Too tired to get your ass kicked? Again?” This was going to go one of two ways. Either, he really was too tired to give in to my taunting, in which case I’d have to call Jade and tell her to come over some other time. Something I really didn’t want to have to do to her. Or his ego would outrank his fatigue.

  I had to suppress a grin when he tossed the pillow aside to glare at me. “You only won last time because I—”

  “Excuses, excuses. Think you can beat me?”

  “I know I can.”

  “Prove it.”

  Kiernan was on his feet and out the door ahead of me. I grinned at his back the whole way downstairs.

  His favorite blue controller was already on the sofa where he always sat and I left him scrolling through the menu of customizable options when the doorbell rang. I knew exactly what he was looking for. The AK-47. He was nothing if not predictable. No appreciation for the subtler things in life. One day, I was going to take him and his assault rifle out with a pocket knife. Just to prove I could.

  “Jade.” Wide, startled eyes stared back at me when I opened the door. Her gaze darted down the hall behind me, where an atomic sounding blast shook the frames. “Come on! You’re just in time to watch me kick Kiernan’s butt.”

  With rapid gun fire blasting through the house, we didn’t bother trying to talk anymore until we reached the media room. Evidently, she hadn’t yet been introduced to my favorite room in the house because she stood there, gaping at the enormous flat screen on the wall.

  “Jade!” Kiernan’s eyes never left the game until his final foe was defeated and he threw a victory fist into the air. “Perfect timing. You can watch me pulverize Cal.”

  Jade’s eyes flicked from Kiernan, to me, around the room, and back to Kiernan again while her mouth opened and closed around unspoken words. She wasn’t prepared for this. Idiot. I’d just dropped the emotional equivalent of a nuclear bomb on her and now I expected her to act like nothing had changed? Like everything was—?

  “Funny.” The lopsided tip of her lips shocked the hell out of me as she flopped down beside Kiernan. “Cal just claimed something very similar.”

  “Did he now? Well, we’ll have to see who’s right.” Kiernan leaned in for a quick kiss. Nothing weird about that. Except the way Jade’s gaze cut to me the moment they parted.

  Who the hell appointed me chaperone?

  It was the last time she looked at me all morning. She wasn’t shutting me out on purpose. She’d simply built this protective bubble around her and Kiernan, and everyone outside of it had ceased to exist. All things considered, it wasn’t unreasonable, but I’d be lying if I said that coldness inside of me didn’t grow just a little more bitter.

  “Here. Why don’t you give it a sho
t?”

  Jade’s eyes locked on the controller in my outstretched hand before lifting to mine. It was worth forfeiting my record breaking winning streak for that moment of her warmth. A single look and that solid block of ice in my chest began to thaw.

  “Are you sure? I’m sure I’ll be terrible. I’ve never—”

  “You’ll never know until you try. Besides, it looks like Kiernan could use a little less competition.”

  A throw pillow sailed past my head and I burst out laughing. “Your aim is just as bad in real life, bro.”

  Another pillow went flying with the same atrocious results and the smile on Jade’s face was enough to heat me all the way through.

  Kiernan proceeded to massacre her seven straight rounds. By the eighth, she’d stopped spinning in circles every time she tried to turn around and actually managed to get a few shots off. They all hit the wall, but that wasn’t the point. She was so bad, she couldn’t have been having fun, but she kept on playing—entertaining Kiernan and I to no end—until Kiernan finally took pity on her and declared it lunch time.

  “Perfect timing, stew’s almost ready.” Mom waved us into the kitchen where thick meaty scents made my stomach sit up and take notice. “Why don’t you boys set the table and see if Jade would like something to drink?”

  I pulled out the set of old stone bowls Grandma had given us back when Mom and Dad first got married. They weren’t really fancy, but they were sentimental, and they had this cool berry design that I never in a million years would have admitted out-loud that I liked.

  The glasses were just that: glass with some flowery engravings that I was proud to say held no interest for me. I passed those over to Kiernan, who was busy giving Jade a tour of our refrigerator. “While you’re at it, I’ll take some lemonade.”

  Jade looked . . . fascinated. By what? Soda? I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. I had a feeling the answer would only piss me off.

  I handed the dishes to Mom, who stood over her cauldron sized pot, ladle in hand. Looked like we’d be eating stew for a week. Maybe we could send some home with—

  My thoughts were derailed by the sound of breaking glass.

  “Oh crap. I’m sorry.” Kiernan leapt for the paper towels as a puddle of lemonade pooled around Jade’s feet, the spray covering her shoes and halfway up her pant legs. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  I crouched in front of her, secretly examining her legs for any signs of bleeding, while I swept up the shattered debris. Jade appeared to be fine. Kiernan, less so. I could hear him shuffling around behind me, not knowing what to do, what to say.

  “Are you okay?” Jade’s gaze zeroed in on Kiernan’s hand, which was flexing and fisting by his side.

  “I’m good.” The hand disappeared into his pocket with one of those lackluster grins, and I fought the urge to slap him upside the head.

  It was bullshit and I knew it. Worse, Jade knew it. Nothing serious, just some muscle weakness that came and went from time to time, but he was lying to her about it. And he had to be blind if he couldn’t see the way that hurt her.

  ***

  We followed lunch with a marathon of some of Kiernan’s favorite movies. The kind that made the house shake with the sheer volume of the massive explosions taking place on screen. Not Jade’s usual genre of choice, I was sure, but she didn’t complain. She just laid there beside my brother and fought to keep her eyes open for as long as possible. Not long after she lost her battle with exhaustion, Kiernan surrendered, as well.

  The movie continued to play, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them long enough to keep up with whatever was going on. It was probably a creepy thing to do, watching them sleep, but I couldn’t help myself. Whenever I looked at either of them it was impossible not to see the weight they carried. Silent struggles waged in each of them for different reasons, but they both fought every moment they were awake. Maybe it’s what drew them together in the first place. But now, in sleep, they both looked . . . peaceful.

  I wondered about Kiernan. If when the end finally came, if he’d have that kind of peace always. No more fear. No more pain. No more struggles.

  And I wondered about Jade. If she’d ever find it.

  I prayed for both of them that the answer was yes.

  Eleven

  When you start to confuse the effects of mitosis and fibrosis, you know you’re in trouble. And that’s exactly where I was—deep—as I watched the final few minutes of the mid-term tick by, staring at a blank essay question.

  I was already so far behind and this was just another step in the wrong direction. Sometimes I wondered why I bothered at all. My entire freshman year was wasted on business classes I thought I’d need until I switched majors. I didn’t get to complete my second semester sophomore year because of the move. And now I was trying to make that up by taking classes I was just going to have to retake again later, anyway. What was the point? At this rate, I’d be a corpse before I’d be a doctor.

  “Time’s up. Leave your exams on my desk on your way out.” The professor leaned against the board and scanned the room as students began filing down the stairs to drop off their test papers.

  The guy couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me and it made me seriously question what I was doing wrong. How was it that he stood up there with all the answers, while I sat here with none? What had gone so right in his life, or so wrong in mine, to make that the case?

  There was only one answer I could come up with, and I hated myself for it.

  “Caulder!” Beth squeezed her way through the line to catch up with me as I neared the bottom, trailed closely by Marjorie. “Hey. Glad that’s over, huh?”

  “Yeah.” At least it couldn’t get any worse.

  “We’re going to The Post tonight with some people to celebrate.” Beth collected my test along with the two Marjorie carried and stacked them all neatly on the professor’s desk as we filed by. “You wanna come?”

  The Post was your typical college town bar: loud, rowdy, and crowded. Not my usual scene, but tonight it sounded like the perfect place to get my mind off more depressing things. “Sure. What time?”

  “Around nine?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Marjorie winked at Beth, earning herself a stiff jab of Beth’s elbow in return. “Great. See ya there.”

  ***

  There was a reason I’d only been to The Post once before. Once was once more than enough. And twice . . . That was just stupidity. A bunch of drunken idiots bumping into each other and spilling drinks everywhere. And it wasn’t even ten, yet.

  I was running late. Beth had texted me while I was driving to let me know they were all there and seated in a booth near the corner. I dodged three teetering girls in short shorts and belly shirts, and took the long way around what looked like the making of a bar brawl waiting to happen, scanning table after table for a familiar face.

  Bartenders shouted, people laughed and hollered, and the music pumped loudly enough to rattle the floor boards.

  “Caulder! Caulder, over here!” It was Marjorie’s red hair that I spotted first, though it was Beth who was waving me down.

  Relieved just to escape the madhouse of the dance floor, I slid onto the torn plastic chair beside Beth. “Hey. It’s crazy in here.”

  "Yeah. It’s usually too much for me, but every once and a while you gotta cut loose and blow off some steam. This is a great place to do it. Mainly because everyone’s too drunk to remember anything you did or said the next morning.”

  I laughed along with her. “Good point.”

  “Hi, Caulder.” Marjorie was grinning at us across the battered wooden table. The thing had probably had more alcohol poured on it than the lining of an alcoholics stomach.

  “Hey, Marjorie.” I made the round of ‘hellos’ to everyone else at the table. Tom, Alex, and Ashley from class, and two other girls I didn’t recognize.

  “What do you want to drink? The waitress comes by about o
nce a year, so you have to grab her when you can.”

  “Um . . .” I wasn’t a stranger to the bar scene. Back in Cali, I’d set sail with Captain Morgan more times than I cared to remember. And I was sure there were a few that I couldn’t. But things were different now. My priorities had shifted. And I’d had an up-close and personal look at the other side of alcohol. What it could do to a person, and what that could do to the people in that person’s life. “I think I’ll stick with water.”

  “You sure?” I’d swear Beth looked almost disappointed. “I thought we were blowing off steam tonight.”

  “Probably not a good idea.” Even if I could find a way to blow off steam, I’d likely take the roof with me.

  “What?” Beth leaned in closer, her shoulder bumping against my arm, and tilted her head to better hear me.

  “Nothing. Never mind. What are you drinking? I can make a run up to the bar.”

  “Brave man.” Marjorie giggled and slid her empty glass to me. Not her first refill, I was guessing. “I’ll take a rum and coke.”

  “An amaretto sour, please.” Beth flashed a smile as I gathered up her empty cup, as well, and extracted myself from the relative safety of the table.

  What the hell was I thinking? No bottle of water was worth all of this. Chaos surrounded the bar, people jockeying for position with no rhyme or reason. Everyone out for themselves, not giving a damn who they had to step on to get what they wanted. It was a zoo.

  When I finally managed to hail someone down with the use of actual coherent language skills, I ordered the drinks and dropped a couple twenties on the bar. There was a snowballs chance in hell I was sticking around to wait for change.

  “Here you go.” Sliding the glasses onto the table, I dropped down beside Beth and sighed with relief. “Enjoy ‘em because the next round is through the waitress.” I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

  Marjorie took a sip of hers and screwed her nose up in disgust. “Ew. You got me regular? I only drink diet.”