A small sob pulls free. “I just got a call. From the hospital. Mom’s been admitted.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach, and I taste the sharpness of metal in my mouth, that sudden flood of fear. This is how it’s always been. I live my life waiting for the day I hear the news that my mom died of an overdose or something equally horrible. I don’t want to know. I have to know.
“Is she—?” My voice wavers. I can’t finish the sentence.
Lydia shakes her head and wipes a shaky hand across her eyes. Eyeliner and mascara darken the puffy skin. Her lipstick is smudged. She must have come straight from the party. “The doctor said she was unconscious when they found her. They pumped her stomach. She hasn’t woken up yet.”
My breath whooshes out of me. My knees are weak. Alive. She’s alive.
Footsteps pound down the hall. Sweat springs to my palms at the thought of Logan returning, but it’s Casey. He stops in front of Lydia, breathing hard. He stares at her. He doesn’t seem to notice I’m here.
Lydia blinks up at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you leave the party. It... looked like you were crying.”
Something shifts in her expression. She says nothing.
As if realizing they aren’t alone, my roommate turns to me. “Hey, Austin.” He gives an awkward wave. His long black hair is loose and falls over his shoulders, and while his eyes are a little glassy, he’s not plastered like I would expect. I’m suddenly wondering if Casey has anything to do with my sister’s smudged lipstick. I don’t want to know. She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions of who to kiss. Or not to kiss.
My focus returns to Lydia and the issue at hand. Someone needs to be with our mom in the hospital.
“I’m going to book a flight back today,” Lydia says, as if reading my mind.
I’m already shaking my head. “No, I’ll go. I’m leaving today anyway. I’ll just have to change my flight time.” Lydia traveled all this way. She’s always wanted to explore Europe. I don’t want to take that away from her. She’s already sacrificed so much for me. Now I want to return the favor. “If I want to catch the first flight out, I need to leave now, though.” It’s thirty minutes by taxi to get to the airport.
Lydia has a look of concern on her face. No doubt she sees I’m upset, but I suspect she’s not saying anything for Casey’s benefit. “What about Logan?”
What about him? I almost say, but I don’t. It’s my fault he’s not speaking to me. Maybe it’s better this way. At least if I leave early, there’s no need for awkward, angry goodbyes.
“I’ll leave him a note. He’ll understand.” Except I’m a coward and I won’t do any such thing. I wonder if she sees the lie for what it is. But Lydia only nods and steps forward to give me a hug. “Tell Mom I love her, and I’ll see her soon.”
By early afternoon, I’m at the hospital, sitting at my mother’s bedside, holding her chilled hand. Machines beep. Again, that antiseptic smell, which reminds me of when Logan was admitted, bruised and unconscious. There are a lot of wires hooked up to my mom. Her skin is sunken and sallow. Currently, she’s sleeping. That’s a good sign.
I bow my head, the tension in my shoulders and back draining away. I’ve been here before, and every time I hope it’s the last. And then it’s not. There has to be some way to help my mom, something we haven’t thought of. Because I can’t keep doing this. Watching my mom waste away, bit by bit, is torture. I feel like we’ve run out of options. She’s been to every rehab center, every program, gone on every medication. We’ve reached a dead end.
There were good points to my childhood, times when my mom managed to create some semblance of stability. I remember we had a really good year when I was in fifth grade. She even managed to save up enough money for me to go on an overnight class field trip. It was the only field trip I ever went on. I asked her about it many years later, and she said she had saved for many months. Her sister was in town that year, and I think being close to family was what helped. When her sister, my aunt, left, however, things went swiftly downhill.
The chair I sit in is uncomfortable as hell, but I manage to catch a few hours of sleep. Sometime later, one of the nurses checks my mom’s vital signs.
“How does she look?” I ask.
“Stable and hydrated.” She smiles. I actually recognize her. My mom’s had this nurse before. “She’ll feel much better when she wakes up.”
“Do you know when she can be released?”
“You’ll have to ask Dr. Johnson about that.” After replacing one of the fluid bags, she says, “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to hit the call button.” Then she’s gone.
It’s another two hours before the doctor arrives. At that point, I’m starting to fall asleep in my chair. The jet lag is hitting me hard. But I stand as he enters the room. “Dr. Johnson.”
With a smile, he reaches out to shake my hand. “Austin.” He gestures to the seat I just rose from.
I sit, taking a breath to prepare myself. I don’t think I’m going to like this conversation.
He settles in an empty chair, looking at me with far too much kindness. I don’t deserve it. I’m a liar and a coward. And I hurt my best friend.
“Your mother was very lucky,” he says, and adjusts his glasses. He has a smooth, deep voice that I’m sure goes a long way in settling nervous patients. “When the paramedics found her, her blood alcohol level was four times the legal limit and close to death. We pumped her stomach and flushed out her system with fluids.” There’s a pause, during which he looks at the files attached to his clipboard. A line appears between his dark eyebrows. “I have on file that she was recently discharged from Green Living?” he asks, mentioning a local rehabilitation facility.
“Yes, in April.” It feels like a lifetime ago. “The problem is, every time she leaves, she has a relapse.”
He nods in understanding. “Yes, unfortunately, it’s not uncommon. You’re her only family?”
“No, I have a sister who lives in the area too. It’s just us. We check on her every few days.”
“Yes, I remember now. Does your mother work?”
“No. She hasn’t worked in over ten years.”
Another nod. “Have you ever considered St. Mary’s Wellness Center?”
I sit up a little. The name sounds familiar. Then it comes to me. It’s one of the top rehabilitation programs in the state, and the nation. A few years ago I looked into it, but it’s incredibly expensive. Since there wasn’t a way for us to pay for it, I forgot about it. “Yes, but we can’t afford it.” The checks my mom receives from the government aren’t nearly enough to cover it. Sometimes she doesn’t have enough to pay rent, what with spending her money on liquor.
“Duke Hospital has a charity program. One of the things we use that money for is paying for programs for people who cannot afford them. It’s relatively new. Your mom is a good example of someone who could benefit from these services. I can give you more information if you’re interested.”
My heart lifts. Some of my worry melts away, and I feel lighter than I did a minute ago. “Yes, I’m interested. You said it’s free?” Because that’s the only way we’ll be able to participate.
“No money whatsoever. But your mother is required to spend six months to a year in their in-house program. If she leaves during that time, she will not be allowed to return, and she won’t be able to receive the funding again.”
It sounds like a dream come true. At this point, I’ll do anything to help my mom. “Whatever we have to do to make this happen.”
Dr. Johnson smiles. “Then here’s what you have to do.”
Chapter 23
Logan
I stay out all night, drinking myself into a stupor at the local gay bar. I’m over the fear of outing myself. I’m a man who likes men and women. I like who I like, and if some
one doesn’t like that, they can suck it. Besides, after Austin pummeled one of Academy Roma’s players, I’m pretty sure it’s obvious that Austin and I aren’t just friends. There’s been talk, but so what? My life choices have no bearing on anything or anyone.
Since it’s a Saturday, the bar is packed. I can’t be sure how long, exactly, I’ve been drinking, since I accidentally left my phone back in our room, but I’m pretty sure it’s a few hours past midnight. The music is deafening. I think my ears are bleeding. Bodies grind and slide together, hands on hips, on crotches, on lower backs. The smell of sweat and cologne is strong, along with an undercurrent of something seedier. Sex: it’s everywhere.
Currently, I sit at the bar chatting with the bartender. The guy’s slammed, but on the occasional lull, he’ll ask me how I’m doing, if I need a refill. There’s pity in his eyes. My heartbreak must be obvious. I’ve never been in this situation before. Even when I was seeing women, the breakups were, for the most part, amicable. We both decided the fit wasn’t right. I felt sad, sure. It’s hard losing someone. But in all my years of dating, I’ve never felt this devastation.
You’re just not what I’m looking for.
Fuck. I’m still hurt over what Austin said to me. I want to believe so badly that it’s a lie, but as the night starts to blur, I’m uncertain. Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he doesn’t want to be with me. Maybe he’s not looking for what I’m looking for.
And what am I looking for, exactly? A relationship? Companionship? Whatever Austin and I had—whatever we still have, dammit—that’s what I want. I want the laughter, the compassion, the caring, the trust, the filthy sex, but also the slow and sweet lovemaking too. I want to be known. I want to be able to walk down the street holding his hand. I want someone to come home to, someone who loves all of me. Am I crazy for wanting that?
Nope, not crazy, I decide, finishing off my beer and catching the bartender’s eye for another. Just a fool in love.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
I startle at the voice. It takes a few seconds for me to recognize it, and when I do, I turn in curiosity. It’s Jaden, wearing khaki shorts and an old jersey, his hair windblown. The last time I saw him, I was lying in a hospital bed. That was weeks ago. I’d wondered what had happened to him.
“What’s up?” I ask, my voice rough.
“Not much.” He searches my eyes. There isn’t interest as there had been the first time we met—only concern. “But it seems like there’s a lot up with you.”
Spot on, this one.
I’m too tired and drunk to deny it, so I shrug. I probably look like a kicked dog. “Why aren’t you in Rome?”
A seat opens up on my right, and Jaden snags it before someone else can. “We ended last week, so I’m doing a bit more traveling before heading home.” The bartender asks him if he wants a drink. Jaden asks for water. Then he turns to me. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about it. The thought of never seeing Austin again strikes a knife into my heart.
Instead of answering his question, I ask Jaden, “What happened to that guy you fell in love with? The one that left you?” There are strange parallels between us in that regard.
He frowns. “He found another guy a few weeks after we broke up. They were in a relationship for a long time. I heard through a friend he’s engaged now. I guess he finally got over his homophobia.” He gives a weak shrug, though he can’t quite hide the lines of pain bracketing his mouth. “It was years ago. I still think about him from time to time. That’s just life, I guess.”
God, I hope that doesn’t happen with Austin. I hope I’m not pining after someone for years, unable to let go. But more than that, I hope I’m not willing to give up so easily. There seems to be a miscommunication between Austin and I. Things were going great, until suddenly they weren’t. I’m just not sure what it is.
I glance at the game on the television, but I don’t have any desire to watch it. I don’t feel much of anything at the moment. “Austin doesn’t want to be with me,” I tell him, staring at my empty beer glass. The bartender has yet to pour me another drink. It’s probably for the best. The world is hazy enough as it is.
Jaden’s quiet for a moment. The music is dark and upbeat. It only worsens my mood. “Well, that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it,” he says.
My head snaps up. When I meet his eyes, there’s a twinkle to them.
He explains, “You’re talking about the same guy who beat up my teammate, right?”
I nod.
He shakes his head, gives a disbelieving laugh. “That guy’s in love with you, Logan. There’s no way he doesn’t want to be with you.”
I go still at this. My heart beats in my ears. “How do you know?” I’m afraid to hope.
“How do I—?” He breaks off, looking at me like I’m too stupid to live. “How do you not know? He looks at you like you’re the center of his universe.”
Does he? Or does my wishful thinking cause me to see things that aren’t there?
As if Jaden senses my doubt, he goes on. “Even before he beat up my teammate, I knew when I saw you two warming up. It’s like he’s a planet and you’re the sun, drawing him into your orbit. If he said he doesn’t want to be with you, there must be an underlying reason. Believe me, Logan. If I had someone who looked at me the way Austin looks at you, I’d never let them out of my sight.” He turns contemplative. “I knew Michael broke up with me because he was afraid of his attraction toward me. Could that be it?”
“No. Austin’s open about his sexuality. I think he was keeping it on the down low for my benefit, because I wasn’t ready.”
“If he’s not afraid of that, it might be something else, something he’s never told you before.”
It’s a definite possibility. “Maybe. He said something pretty awful to me though. I don’t know if I’m in the mood to talk to him right now.”
“What did he say?” Now Jaden’s curious.
“That I wasn’t what he was looking for.”
At that, Jaden snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s a lie. It has to be something else.”
I tap a finger against the side of my beer glass. Even if the bartender refills my drink, I’m no longer in the drinking mood. “And if it’s not a lie?”
Jaden’s expression is sympathetic. “Love is scary as shit, and a risk. But the things most worthwhile are, wouldn’t you say?”
I hurry back to my room as fast as I can. It’s late. Austin is probably asleep. His flight isn’t until this afternoon. There’s still time to fix things. Even if he’s running, I’m not. I’m going to fight for us, and I’ll do so until I win.
But when I reach the room, I immediately know something’s wrong. The lights are on. His bed is empty, but made. He never makes his bed. The room, too, is empty.
My heart trips over itself, then picks up speed as I walk over to his dresser and pull out his drawers.
They’re all empty.
I go to his closet.
Empty.
He’s moved his toiletries out of the bathroom too.
My legs are shaking. My chest feels tight. I sag onto my bed in disbelief, wondering if this is a nightmare that I’ll soon wake from. He left. That fucker left without saying goodbye. He stole away like a thief in the night.
My hands clench and unclench atop my thighs. I called him a coward, but I didn’t think he’d actually leave. I guess I underestimated him. This is high school all over again.
I honestly can’t believe it.
My rage starts small, but soon it blossoms into something too large for my body to contain. My blood rushes and roars in my ears. My teeth creak as I clench my jaw together. What did I tell him all those weeks ago? He could never hurt me unless he left? And he did exactly that, not even giving us a chance to sort through the issue. I want an e
xplanation. I deserve that much, at least. Except he’s not here.
But Lydia is.
It doesn’t register to me that it’s the middle of the night as I hurry down the hall to her room. I bang on her door until it opens and she peers at me blearily, her blonde curls, so much like her brother’s, flying like a pale cloud around her head. “Logan?” Her voice is a croak.
“Austin’s gone.” The words fly out of my mouth. They taste like panic and betrayal.
“He didn’t tell you?” she asks in surprise.
“Tell me what? That he’s a coward?” I can’t help the bite to my words. I thought I was an important part of his life, just like he’s an important part of mine. Guess I was seeing things that weren’t true.
With a heavy sigh, she steps back. “We should probably talk.”
The room is small and smells of vanilla. The bed is messy, and her suitcase is open in the corner, clothes spilling out. I sit on the single chair in her room while she crawls back into bed.
“Why did he leave?” I ask, my voice hard.
Lydia’s quiet. To be honest, I never really knew her back in high school. She was a year younger than Austin and I and mostly kept to herself. She always struck me as someone far older than her years. As she looks at me now, I see weariness there. Weariness, and something that a twenty-one-year old should not have in her eyes. Hardship. Struggle. Strife.
“We got a call,” she begins, “from the hospital. Our mother was admitted late last night for alcohol poisoning. We weren’t sure how bad it was. Austin flew back to be with her.”
That stops me. “Oh.” We stare at one another for a minute. There was that single moment when Austin opened up to me in the shower. Painted a picture of his family and past, something heartbreaking, yet tender too. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know.” Her chin wobbles as she pulls her knees to her chest. Lydia swallows and says, “This isn’t the first time this has happened. It isn’t even the tenth time. But this was one of the worst times.” A deep breath. “I don’t know how much you’re aware of the fact that our mother is an alcoholic. She’s been this way ever since our father walked out on us when we were little. Over the years, there have been times of stability, but for the most part, our childhoods were unstable. We grew up poor. Sometimes we didn’t have anything to eat in the house.”
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