by Harper James
“No,” I said, even though it was a little bit of a lie. “I just don’t picture you as…”
“What? Dependable? Loyal?”
I’d gotten under his skin, questioning him. There was an unexpected edge to his voice, like it irritated him that I had a hard time believing him.
“I don’t know, okay? I just can’t reconcile that version of you in my head.”
“That version of me? What version of me do you see, for that matter?”
I swallowed. “Successful. Driven…” my voice trailed off. “And yeah, maybe a little cold. You don’t get where you’re at so quickly without being a little ruthless.”
“In business,” he said, standing. “Ruthless in business. That doesn’t mean I turn my back on my friends.”
Just on your lovers, I wanted to add.
“Look,” he said, leveling his gaze on me. “You’re going to have to go home and pretend everything is normal. Give him some openings to come clean, but leave it up to him. It’s his decision. You need to honor that.”
I rubbed my face. “How do you suggest I give him some openings?”
“Ask him how he’s doing. What he’s up to. Remind him that you love him. If he wants to tell you, he will.”
I bit back the urge to sigh. “Okay. Sure.”
But I wanted more advice.
I wanted to know what I was supposed to do about the internship. How I was supposed to get on a plane for Dallas when my brother’s health could fall apart? How I was supposed to be excited for my dad and his promotion when I knew this would derail it all the second he found out?
“Hey,” he said, tucking a tendril of hair behind my ear. “His prognosis is good. It’s not like it was with your mom. It’s not the same.”
“It feels the same,” I said. “It feels like round two of a nightmare.”
Silence fell, and I stared down at my hands, wringing them in my lap. “I’m sorry I made you leave work.”
“You needed me,” he said, and it scared me. I had needed him. Two days ago I’d gone years without him, and in a flash, he was back, burrowed into my life as if he’d never left.
“Why did you tell me you came back for me?” I asked, still staring at my lap. “It wasn’t true. You came back for my brother and your center, but not for me.”
“It felt like it, in that moment.”
That was life to Landon, lived one moment at a time. But a moment would never be enough for me.
“You can’t do that to me.”
“I can’t tell you how I feel?”
“You can’t make me think you feel things you don’t.” I looked up. His eyes narrowed, something akin to confusion and annoyance swirling there. “I’m supposed to get on a plane in three hours,” I suddenly admitted. The words had just come out, without me planning to say them.
He stilled, staring me directly in the eye. Searching for more explanation. But for a long stretch of a moment, I didn’t’ want to give it to him. I wanted him to wonder and feel confused, the way I’d felt.
“Why?”
“I got an internship. One I wanted desperately last year, but I had to give it up when my Mom’s health started to go downhill.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “How long have you known?”
“Why? Because you’re the only one allowed to disappear without notice?”
The intensity of his stare only got stronger. “How long?”
“Since yesterday.”
He stared, his look pointed. I felt sorry for anyone he’d ever worked with, who probably shrank under his gaze. “And you were just going to leave?” he demanded.
I laughed, and it came out bitter, tinged with anger. “So what if I was? I don’t owe you anything. Whatever this is, I’m not stupid. Nothing with you is permanent. So yeah, I was just going to leave. I was going to pursue my dreams. Wasn’t it you that told me I had to go for it?”
He shook his head, something like loathing in his expression. “That doesn’t excuse the fact that we were together last night and you knew you were leaving without telling me.”
“Why?” I asked, standing. “Because you’re the only one allowed do that? Because you get to fuck and forget, but god forbid someone do the same to you?”
He didn’t even flinch. Just stared at me, an undercurrent of irritation beneath his skin. “People don’t leave me, Taryn.”
“You’re right. Because you do the leaving before they can.”
“It’s not like that with you.”
“It’s already been like that with me! That’s the whole fucking point. You left me for three years, without so much as a goodbye,” I said, my voice rising.
I stepped back, and the stool toppled over. He didn’t react, just stared at me with accusation in his eyes, like I was the one ruining this. Like this was ever going to be something.
He finally shook his head. “Not everything that happens is about you, Taryn.”
“You know what, I changed my mind. You are a cold bastard and I can’t do this anymore. I’m getting on that plane in three hours, and while I’m gone, I’m going to forget you.”
I stormed out of his house.
And it stung to realize he didn’t follow me.
7
Hitting the green call button on my phone sent a wave of nerves through me.
Please go to voicemail, please go to voicemail. It was a mantra in my head. A plea for mercy. But of course, I was not so lucky.
“Professor Valdez,” he answered, on the second ring. I could picture him now, sitting behind that ancient oak desk, stacks of books towering around him, so tall they would probably kill him in the event of an earthquake. He’d have his back to the room, staring out across the lawn below his window, to the shimmering Lake Washington beyond.
I wanted to be him once. Now I just wanted to avoid disappointing him.
Dread fell like a cannon ball in my stomach as I searched for the words to say.
“Uh, Hi, Professor,” I replied, hoping my voice sounded calm, cool, collected. “It’s Taryn. Do you have a second to talk?”
“Sure. Where are you? Have you made it through the security lines yet at the airport?”
“Oh, um, actually I’m in the car.” Ugh. Couldn’t I speak without another um to make me sound immature?
“…On the way to the airport?” He asked, his words like a question and an accusation rolled into one.
“Actually, I don’t think I can make it,” I said, all in a rush. I gripped the wheel harder, as if bracing for an inevitable impact. “It’s just so last minute, and I’m so grateful for the opportunity, but I just can’t get on the plane.”
“It was last minute when I offered it to you yesterday,” he said, his voice stern, “and you agreed to it. You were excited. What changed?”
I swallowed. Everything changed, I wanted to say. “It’s my brother. He’s sick.”
“What do you mean, he’s sick?”
I could picture the professor crossing his arms, his gaze growing more impatient by the second.
“He has cancer,” I blurted out.
Silence weighed heavy on the line. “I’m sorry to hear that, Taryn,” he said his voice turning softer. Something creaked, as if he’d leaned back into his chair.
He knew why I’d left last year. The final time I’d spoken with him, standing between stacks of books in his office, my eyes had glimmered with tears as I told him I had to withdraw from the program. To this day, I wasn’t sure how many of those tears were for my mother and how many for me.
“What’s his prognosis? Is it terminal?”
I almost said I don’t know, but caught myself. I wasn’t going to explain to my teacher that my brother had kept it a secret. Besides, if my brother thought he’d tell me about his cancer when it was “in the rear view mirror” as Landon put it, then he must’ve thought it wasn’t terminal.
“No,” I said finally. I should’ve said yes. Ended this conversation immediately. I didn’t owe him an explanation. E
ven though… I kind of did. He’d come all the way to the mall to find me. To give me another chance. And here I was once again, turning my back on it. “I just don’t want to leave him behind. It’s a vulnerable time, one that feels familiar in a really scary way. Right now we’re still waiting on some tests.
“Is he bedridden?” The professor asked. “In the hospital?”
“No,” I said, trying not to sound indignant. “But that doesn’t mean I can pretend it’s just a cold. He has cancer. You know I lost my moth-“
“I know you have a way of prioritizing everyone else,” he said. “This internship isn’t about them. It’s about you. Your mind got you this opportunity. I understood why you had to walk away last year. But this sounds different. Yet you’re going to let it slip through your fingers again?”
“It’s not like I want to miss out on this.”
“I know you regret leaving the program last year,” he said. “I know you’ve been waiting for that moment to fix that mistake. This is that moment, Taryn. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”
For a moment I thought he hung up on me. The only sounds I could hear were my wheels on pavement, the low hum of the radio I hadn’t turned all the way off.
“You won’t be given a third chance.”
His words were like a dagger to my heart, and a wave of panic spiraled through me. What if that was true?
What if this choice was the nail in the coffin to the career I’d worked so hard for?
“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” I said. I needed him to believe me. “You saw me. I work at a mall kiosk now. I want this. Very much.”
“Then why are you having such a hard time prioritizing yourself? I know it’s not easy, but it’s necessary. I went through this too, once.”
“You did?”
“Yes. My father was ill. He was diagnosed with early onset Parkinson’s two days after I got accepted to med school.”
“What did you do?”
“I did what he wanted me to do. I went to med school two states away. And when I received my degree, he was there to celebrate with me. He was in a wheelchair, but that day, it didn’t matter. I’d never seen him so happy. So proud of me. For years I’d worried I was too selfish, that I’d made the wrong choice. But after that moment, I knew I hadn’t. And I haven’t regretted my choice in the decades since.”
He paused, letting his words sink in. “People get sick all the time, Taryn. This is a turning point in your life. A moment to divide everything into a before and after. Besides, It’s a short flight home if something happens. You can be there for him if you need to be, and still follow your dreams.”
But he doesn’t’ get it. I couldn’t be there for my family while focusing on myself. They needed me. “I know, but my dad— “
“I thought it was your brother,” he interrupted.
“I mean, it IS my brother, he’s the one that’s sick, but my dad needs me too. He’s had a rough time since my mom passed away.”
“You really think that your father and brother would want you to put your life on hold for them?”
His words were barbed with truth. Because no—my brother would hate that. It was the very reason he’d kept his cancer a secret. He didn’t want it to send us into a tailspin like my mom’s cancer had done.
He would hate knowing I was turning this chance down.
“Look, there’s no one else to send. I’m going to call the program and let them know that you’ve hit a small delay because of how last minute this opportunity was and have some minor things to get in order before you can leave. They can send the orientation materials over via email, and then if you fly out next week, you can read them on the plane and hit the ground running.”
“I don’t think a week- “
“You have a week to make the right choice,” he said. And the line went dead.
I groaned and dropped the phone back into the cup holder. I knew the call wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t expect him to just… reject my choice.
I hate that I’ve disappointed the only person who had steadfastly believed in my career goals. My brother and dad believed in me in that way that family members do—that vague, “you can be anything you want to be!” sort of way.
The sort of loving, supportive statements that were both heartwarming and totally useless.
Strangely, some of the weight that had settled into my chest, lifted. The professor was right, after all. My brother would hate knowing I’d given this up for him.
I reached over, unrolling the window and letting the wind dry my tears.
I had a lot to figure out.
I walked into my house, thinking of Landon again. I wished I could be like him. He had left everything behind in order to make something of himself. Proved it could be done. And yet here I was, still paralyzed by indecision.
But it wasn’t just my voice, telling me to stay. Weeks before my mom died, I’d made her a promise. A promise to make sure my father didn’t hold so tightly to her memory that he couldn’t find a future without her—that I would remind him that she wanted him to be happy.
I promised that even as my brother built his own world, that we’d stay close, that we’d keep looking out for one another.
I couldn’t do all that in Dallas.
I stepped into the house, morning light filtering through the dust in the air. In the kitchen, I stood at the sink, staring out the window. I gripped the counter with both hands, as if I could steady my life as easily as my balance.
And then a sound behind me disrupted my thoughts. A groan, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.
“Matt?” I said, my voice spiking. I rushed across the room, grabbing the door knob to the bathroom door. It didn’t turn in my hand, so I shook the door. “Matt?”
He threw up again, and again and again. “Matt!” I yanked on the door, but all I heard was another groan. The throwing-up stopped, but then it was only silence, and I wasn’t sure if it was better or worse.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, digging my phone out of my pocket.
Once again, I called the only person I knew I could turn to in this situation.
It took Landon only a ring to answer. “Hello,” he said, no trace of warmth to his voice. Fine, I guess I deserved that.
“Something’s wrong with Matt,” I said, stepping away from the bathroom door. “He locked himself in the bathroom. And I can’t get in.”
“Be there in ten,” he said, and then the line went dead.
I must’ve paced a hole in the floor in the ten minutes it took Landon to get there. Matt wouldn’t let me in the bathroom, no matter how many times I knocked. He did eventually mutter leave me alone so at least I knew he wasn’t dead.
Landon came inside and didn’t even acknowledge me as he strode past, knocking on the bathroom door again. Matt had been silent the last several minutes.
“Go away,” my brother mumbled, his words muffled through the door.
“It’s me,” Landon replied, his voice level and calm, betraying none of the panic I felt.
“Is my sister still here?” His voice was weak, barely audible even though I was standing right outside.
Silence fell. Landon pointed at me and then upstairs. “Go,” he mouthed. He held up a hand, as if to say five minutes.
I grit my teeth, annoyed that his presence was welcomed by my brother, but mine wasn’t. I obeyed, turning to the stairs and retreating to my room, just as I heard Landon say, “No, I sent her upstairs,” as if in response to another question from Matt.
And then I heard the door unlock.
I sat on an easy chair upstairs and waited exactly five minutes, and then stood, ready to charge back down stairs. Only, before I knew it, Landon was there, hugging me. Stopping me from storming down and asking my brother all of the questions that had barreled through my mind for the last several hours.
“How is he?” I asked instead, accepting the comfort gratefully. Letting Landon wrap me up in a warm, secure
hug.
“He’s fine. He just started chemo and he’s more than a little nauseous. It’s normal.”
Normal. I don’t want this to be our new normal. “He wouldn’t even answer the door. I thought he could be dying in there. I thought- “
“I know,” Landon said, firmly. “It’s not like that with him. He didn’t let you in because he didn’t want you to see him being weak.”
“I don’t understand why he’s trying to keep this a secret from me,” I said, twisting a charm bracelet around my wrist. “He can’t go through all the same things as our mom and have us not piece it together. He must know I’d figure it out eventually.”
Landon gripped my shoulders, turning to face me. Forcing me to stare straight into his eyes. He waited until I took several calming breaths before he spoke. “I think he’s hoping eventually comes later rather than sooner.”
I pulled away from him, plunking back down in the chair where I’d been sitting. “It’s not fair that this is happening all over again. “
“It wasn’t fair that it happened to your mom the first time, either. Cancer is a fucking bitch.”
I wanted to smile at his words. But I couldn’t bring my lips to curl. “Now what am I supposed to do? I’m stuck here. There’s no way I can leave as long as Matt is like this.”
“I know one thing you can do,” Landon said, starting to grin a little.
“Oh, and what’s that?” I asked, feeling like maybe he was flirting now.
“Come and work for me,” he said.
I laughed. “I’m done with the kiosk, Landon.”
“I don’t mean at the kiosk. I mean at the center.”
“Doing what?” I asked, throwing up my hands. “Wiping down treadmills? Sounds glamorous.”
He stepped back. “Is that really what you think my center is? Some glorified gym?”
“Yes,” I said, annoyed. “Maybe with some physical therapists or whatever. But how is it not a gym? How am I going to pursue my dreams by working at a sports center?”
He crossed his arms, looking more than a little insulted. “Sports medicine center,” he said, carefully enunciation each word. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”