“Do you want to stay with me and my mom?” I discard my uneaten ice cream. My appetite is long gone.
“Not going home will just make it worse. I should be in class. They’re going to be upset.”
I pull out my cell phone and dial the school’s office number.
“Good morning, Stonewall High School,” the chipper office clerk answers.
“Hello, this is Jacqueline McKenna. I want to inform you both Raye McKenna and Lindsay Cruz will be absent again today.”
My voice is so alike my mother’s, the clerk doesn’t even pause. “Oh, yes, Ms. McKenna, of course. Tell the girls we hope they’ll feel better!”
I hang up the phone.
“That easy,” I say, folding my arms. “The world does not argue with Jacqueline McKenna.”
“Thanks,” Lindsay sniffs.
“On that note, maybe my mom could talk to them?” I would love to see my mom go lawyer on Lindsay’s parents. Mom may have her flaws, but judging others based on their sexuality is not one of them, as she has already proven.
“Raye, no, it will make it worse. I don’t want to fight with them.”
“What are you going to do? Stop seeing Marcella?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I suddenly understand why I’m the one sitting here comforting Lindsay and not Marcella. “Lindsay, you can’t let them make this choice for you. I can give you a dozen reasons to end things with Marcella,” I say, trying not to like the idea, “but because your parents don’t approve of you being into girls is not one of them. This is who you are. If they don’t accept that, maybe you should re-evaluate what their opinions mean to you.”
It is a harsh statement, one I know Lindsay doesn’t want to hear, but it is also a statement she needs to hear if she is ever going to be happy.
“They’re my parents,” she says, rubbing one of the few intact napkins against her face to absorb the tears.
“Exactly. It’s their job to love you unconditionally, not the other way around. You do not need to fight to be worthy of their acceptance, Linds.”
She looks back at me as though she isn’t sure if I’m speaking the truth. I don’t know what I can do for her. Feeling helpless isn’t a feeling I particularly enjoy.
I spend the rest of the day by Lindsay’s side, sneaking in and out of movies at the theater. I’m sure the employees working know what we’re doing, but either they don’t want to deal with a crying girl, or they know who my mom is, because they don’t say anything.
After I drop Lindsay off at home–against my better judgement–I drive to the clinic for my first day of work. Mitch is managing the front desk when I walk in. “Hey, Raye. I didn’t see you in class. I’m glad you made it.”
“Uh, thanks.” I’m still not accustomed to this strange, nice Mitch. I can’t decide if I like him better this way or not, and I still don’t know what I did to deserve it.
“My mom is in the back. Scrubs are in that closet,” he says, pointing to a tall cabinet the same sky blue as the walls. “You probably need an extra small.”
“Uh, thanks,” I repeat, giving him a suspicious look. Mitch smiles warmly.
I change into a pair of sky blue scrubs that are still a little big, even though I selected the smallest size. To my dismay, Mitch is the one chosen to train me. He takes me on a small tour of the outpatient clinic and the attached hospital. Aside from a few minor instances, I haven’t spent much time here. Even though it’s not large, I know I’ll get lost if left on my own. Thankfully, most of my job will be confined to the clinic.
Mitch shows me how to properly sanitize surfaces; how to greet patients and book appointments; how to file documents and input demographics. The shift drags by. I have to remind myself on more than one occasion that I’m getting paid to gain experience in a field I’m interested in.
“How is Lindsay?” Mitch asks, guiding me to the staff lounge halfway through my shift.
“What about her?” I ask defensively.
“I saw her this morning. She looked… She’s looked better. Is she still sick?”
“Yeah, deathly ill.” I buy a cookie out of the vending machine. It tastes like dirt, but at least Mitch doesn’t expect me to talk with my mouth full.
“She and Marcella make a good match. I’ve seen them around. They’re still together, aren’t they?”
“For now,” I reply coolly, giving up on the cookie and spitting it into the garbage. How long has it been in there? Four years?
Mitch doesn’t ask any more questions, but I notice him watch me carefully. I try to ignore it, reminding myself I want this job and he’s the boss’s son. It doesn’t matter if he is planning my murder; I have to be nice.
By the time I’m finally allow to leave, I change quickly back into my non-scrubs and practically run to my Jeep, praying Mitch won’t find me to say goodbye.
When I pull into my driveway, Mom’s car is still MIA, but parked in its place is a similar Audi in a newer model. T.K. gets out of the driver’s side as I turn off the ignition.
“Hey,” he says, meeting me halfway and pulling me into a tight embrace. His warmth radiates through me.
“T.K., I can’t breathe,” I huff, trying to wiggle out of his arms. He releases my body and places his hands on my cheeks, his skin a pleasant contrast to the cool night.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” He touches his forehead to mine before placing a deep kiss on my lips. It leaves me a little breathless, like most of his kisses do.
“Jesus, I had the flu, not the plague. I’m fine. I hope my body has built up immunity after this, though. I swear to god, if I get sick again before I turn thirty I’m going to be seriously unimpressed.”
T.K. gives me a weak half-smile and pulls me in for another hug. “I’m sorry,” he says into my hair. His head rests perfectly on top of mine.
“What is with you tonight? I am fine.” I wrestle myself out of his arms and head to the door. “I’m insanely exhausted, but you can come in, if you want.”
“I do want. But I can’t.” To his credit, he looks genuinely upset about it. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m good.” Disappointment claws its way into my mind. I try to leave the emotion out of my voice.
“What about Lindsay? Is she good?”At the mention of Lindsay, my face must give me away. “I guess I have time to come in for a bit.”
We sit together on the couch, T.K.’s arms wrapped tightly around my body as I use his chest as a pillow. “I have no idea what I can do for her,” I say, smelling the cleanness of his shirt. It’s a different one than he wore to school this morning.
“She knows you’re here for her. I don’t think there’s anything else you can do. Do you think she’ll end things with Marcella?” I can’t read his expression. “I mean, she’s not my favourite person, but I know she cares about Lindsay, at least in her own way.”
“What does that mean?”
T.K. hesitates before continuing, trying to find the appropriate words. “Sometimes I wonder how capable Marcella is of truly loving someone.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. She’s nothing like Chane, for example, who cries when those abandoned animal commercials play on TV. Or like Markus, who used to volunteer at soup kitchens because he couldn’t stand to see people homeless and sad. And I know for a fact she can’t relate to me. She can’t begin to understand how I feel about you, even though I know she’s tried.”
“So, what, she’s a sociopath?” I laugh, not knowing if I’m joking or not.
“She’s different than the rest of us in that way. But like I said, she does care about Lindsay. Still, I don’t know if what they have is the same as this,” he says, holding up our entwined fingers. He brushes a kiss against my knuckles.
My heart speeds up. “Oh yeah? What’s this then?” My voice is teasing, but my words aren’t funny. I turn my head up so I can see him. His cheeks are a little red, but he is finally smiling the trademark T.K. smile I can’t seem to r
esist.
“Something real. I don’t think you’d be able to find something I wouldn’t do for you, Raye.”
“Interesting,” I say, turning around so my legs are straddling his hips. “It sounds like you sort of like me or something.”
I press my lips against his, slow and purposefully.
“That’s putting it mildly,” he says against my lips. “I think–”
“Don’t say it,” I say, putting a finger to his mouth, my body suddenly tense.
“Why not?” He presses a kiss to my finger.
“I’m not ready to hear it.” Sometimes I feel like I’m floating when I’m with T.K. Other times, I have to stop and remember things are still new, even if they don’t feel that way.
“That’s fine. I can be patient.” He pulls me closer to his chest.
He doesn’t anger or prod; it says a lot about who T.K. is and how much he cares about me. I’m so filled up with warm fuzziness, I worry I may burst. It is a strange sensation, one I doubted I would ever feel. I think if he had said it, I might have believed him. I may have even said it back.
But I’m still me, so I’m glad he doesn’t say it–at least for right now.
T.K. kisses me for a handful of minutes without trying to take things any further. Part of me is disappointed, wondering if maybe he really is upset about not being allowed to say it, but I don’t have the chance to ask. “I really do need to go,” he says against my lips. He pulls me off his lap, setting me gently on the couch as he stands.
“My mom will be gone for hours,” I hint, hoping he will change his mind.
He doesn’t.
I sigh as I watch him walk out the door and climb into his car.
I’m a little restless for the remainder of the evening, no longer remotely tired. I end up falling asleep around two in the morning with a book on my face, wishing T.K. had stayed a little bit longer.
The next morning, I sleep in. It takes a solid ten minutes to convince myself I can’t skip another day of classes. Not that I’m in danger of falling behind, but it’s a bad habit to start, and I don’t deal with bad habits well.
“How are you?” I ask Lindsay when I arrive at school. I’m so relieved to see her, eyes no longer red and puffy.
“I’m okay,” she shrugs, a little meekly. I wonder if she’s embarrassed about yesterday. “My parents aren’t speaking to me, but I think that’s better than the yelling.”
“What about Marcella?” I try to prepare myself for either answer. After what T.K. told me about his sort-of-sister, it’s hard to pretend I want her dating my Lindsay.
“We are…taking a break. Kind of. I don’t know,” she says, shoulders slumped. “I called her last night and told her I need time. She didn’t take it well, Raye.” I hate seeing Lindsay in pain, but I can’t hide the relief from flooding into my voice.
“She’ll get over it. This is new for you; if she doesn’t understand that… Well, she can go right to hell.”
“Raye!” she says, aghast at my words. They mean more to her than they do to me.
“I don’t know, Linds. I’ve been thinking. I don’t know how good she is for you.”
“If you’re saying that to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.” Tears form in her eyes as she speaks. “You told me you trusted me to make the right choice.”
“I do! I just… I have new information, okay? I want you to be careful. Space seems like a good idea, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I cannot believe you.”
“Linds…” I start as she storms away. Lindsay and I rarely fight, but when we do, it is usually my fault. “Lindsay!” I shout after her. She doesn’t turn around; before I know it, she is gone.
∆∆∆
After classes end, I try to hunt Lindsay down to apologize–or at least make her see reason–but she is avoiding me. She skipped lunch and boarded the school bus early. I heave a loud sigh when I see it pull out of the lot, Lindsay hidden somewhere inside. I turn around in time to see T.K. climbing into his car. I’ve been so focused on Lindsay it didn’t occur to me I haven’t seen T.K. all day, either.
“Hey there,” I say, tapping on his window. Marcella was away today, and by the looks of the empty car, it seems Chane was as well.
“Hey,” he says, rolling the window down partially. I’m a little annoyed he doesn’t get out of the car.
“Sorry I’ve been MIA all day. Lindsay’s irritated with me.” I feign indifference. I expect him to know better, but he simply raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “Are you seriously not going to get out of the car?” I place my hands on my hips.
“I have to go home. I’m sure Lindsay will forgive you. Doesn’t she always?”
“That’s not the point,” I snap. “What is wrong with you lately?”
“I don’t have time for the drama, Raye. I have to go.”
He drives away, rolling the window up as he goes.
Jackass.
By the time I make it to my Jeep, the entire lot is nearly empty. I stand there for a few minutes, letting the icy air blast my face. My hope is it will clear my head, but all it does is fill me with lonely dread and a gut wrenching feeling I’ve missed something exceptionally important. Not for the first time, I wonder what I’ve done to deserve all the hell that comes my way.
CHAPTER 20
Lindsay doesn’t speak to me all weekend.
T.K. is avoiding me.
I’m trapped doing a shift at the clinic with Mitch to make up for my missed shift on Monday.
A raging storm of emotions swirls inside me: sad, angry, lonely, confused, and worried.
There is nothing in the clinic I’m allowed to break.
“Are you okay?” Mitch hovers in his new favourite place behind me.
“Oh, shut up, Mitch!” I yell, snapping for absolutely no reason other than the fact he is here and I need to snap something.
“What did I do?” His voice is gentle for a guy who has been verbally bitch-slapped.
“Nothing. I’m annoyed, okay? Don’t you have tables to sanitize?”
“Want to talk about it?” He isn’t getting the message. The sincerity in his voice makes my anger increase tenfold.
“If I have to break your nose again to find some peace, I’ll do it.”
Rather than do as I want, Mitch sits down next to me behind the counter and leans forward on his hands. “Is it T.K.?”
“No.”
“Lindsay?”
“No.”
“Is it both of them?”
“Fine! You really want to know? Lindsay isn’t speaking to me because I hate her sort-of-girlfriend. T.K. is avoiding me for god knows why. And exactly three years ago today my dad drove himself off a fucking bridge. I am having a bad day.”
“It was three years ago today?” Mitch whispers, his face showing all sorts of emotions I can’t decipher. I was with him and Lindsay when I found out. I’m a little surprised he doesn’t remember. How does someone forget witnessing mental and physical breakdown?
“Almost to the hour,” I say, glancing at the clock for the fourth time in twenty minutes.
4:02 p.m.
The thirteenth of March.
“I’m so sorry, Raye.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
Mitch pulls out his phone and checks the screen. Is he texting?
“I’m sorry, it’s my mom. She’s checking in.” Dr. Wright has the day off, so Dr. Lise is filling in. I haven’t seen him in hours, so for all I know Mitch and I are completely alone in the clinic. “You and Lindsay have been friends for a long time. She’s dealing with a lot, but she’ll forgive you, Raye. As for T.K., he’s crazy about you. I’m sure he’ll get over whatever’s bothering him soon.”
“You don’t even know T.K. For all you know he’s already started dating someone else. He’s tired of me already.” My voice sounds so pathetic. I think I would rather die than show emotional weakness in front of Mitchel Wright.
I will not cry
today.
“I know T.K. better than you think. Trust me, Raye; he’s crazy about you. I don’t think he’ll ever get tired of you.”
Before I can question him about his apparent friendship with T.K., the door to the clinic smashes open, dragged further inward by the frigid wind outside. The cold engulfs me immediately.
T.K. stands in the doorway, looking horribly dishevelled, like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Hey,” is all he has to say after days of avoiding me. His presence brings my rage back with a vengeance. Before I have the opportunity to yell, he storms up to where I stand against the counter and kisses me so intensely I think I may faint.
“Um, hi?” I manage, a little breathless.
I hear Mitch cough out a laugh from beside me. “Why don’t you go? I’ll cover here.”
“I still have an hour left,” I say, glancing between him and T.K.
“Consider it an apology gift. Go on,” he says, shooing me away with his hand.
I give Mitch a real smile for the first time in nearly three years. I have never needed to be elsewhere more than in this moment. “Thanks, Mitch.” I turn to T.K., most of my warmth removed. “I’m going to change.”
When I walk back out to the waiting area, my too-large scrubs shoved deep into my bag, T.K. and Mitch are deep in conversation. They snap apart as soon as my footsteps signal my arrival. “Ready to go?” T.K. asks, holding out his hand. Even though I’m confused and angry, I don’t hesitate slipping my hand into his.
We head toward my Jeep, our heads low to protect us from the wind. “Did you walk here?” I ask, not spotting his car in the lot.
“I did.” His voice is unexplainably nervous as he glances around the nearly empty lot. I take another good look at him, noticing he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, probably since I last saw him.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?” I ask, settling into the car. I turn the heat up, but I leave the car in park. The heat does nothing to thaw my voice.
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