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“I know she can. And, if she decides to, that’s her choice. But she’s not the vengeful sort. I doubt us having a fight would affect her decision.” My reasonable tone does nothing to remove the tension from my mother’s shoulders.
“But why take that risk? This is your health, your life, that we’re talking about. You need to do every—” Her lecture is cut off by the ringing of a phone.
And thank the universe because she is starting to piss me off. Logically, I know that her words are all coming from a place of concern. But her assumptions about Holly make my girlfriend sound like an emotional flake who’s willing to toy with my fate.
Mom huffs in frustration but still reaches into her purse to retrieve the phone. Whatever name is on the screen deepens her frown, and her eyes flick to me and then away.
My stomach clenches, and I sit up straighter as she answers, “Hello, Fred. How is everything?” Despite the obvious unease on her face, my mom’s voice is still pleasant as she talks to her nephew.
I can’t hear his side of the conversation, so I instead watch my mom’s reactions to his words in order to figure out what’s going on.
At first, something he says softens her slightly, even getting her to crack a smile. I let go of the breath I’m holding.
But I relax too soon.
As she continues to listen, a sense of déjà vu settles over me. Her body language becomes so familiar until I’m struck with a harsh memory. We’re back in the kitchen, the day she got the call about Grandpa Ben. But, today, she doesn’t stare at my father with helpless devastation.
Her eyes are locked on me.
27
HOLLY
Finally, on Saturday, I get a text from Ben.
Ben: Dialysis today 2 p.m.?
I guess his phone isn’t broken. The message leaves much to be desired, but I’m not about to be petty because I’m annoyed with him.
Holly: I’ll be there.
Hopefully, when I show up, he’ll have an explanation for why he ignored my messages for two days.
An hour and two bus rides later, I’m back in front of his parents’ house. I wonder if, one day, I’ll ever be comfortable enough to just walk in without ringing the bell. The idea makes me smile, and I’m still wearing the expression when Ben answers the door.
It falls away immediately when I take a good look at him. He’s pale with dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are chapped and drawn tight. Without thinking about it, my hand immediately presses against his forehead. I expected to find him feverish, but his skin isn’t more than pleasantly warm.
“You look sick, Ben. Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, he removes my hand and uses his grip to pull me forward. I let him, pressing up against his chest. Ben runs his fingers up my neck before cupping the back of my head. He angles me how he wants and then slowly kisses me.
All the while, the front door hangs wide, letting in cold air. While I enjoy his affectionate greeting, the impracticality of leaving a door open in the beginning of winter has me stepping away, so I can shut it.
When I turn back to Ben, he still seems off, but before I can ask him what’s wrong again, he laces his fingers with mine and tugs me farther into the house. Instead of heading to the stairs, we move toward the kitchen.
It being the weekend, I’m not surprised to see Mrs. and Mr. Gerhard. This is their house after all. Ben’s dad is leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, legs crossed, eyes on his shoes. Mrs. Gerhard is standing at the kitchen island, hands spread wide on the granite counter, watching me without blinking. Their agitation is clear.
“Hello.” My greeting works its way through air so thick with tension that I’m surprised it even reaches them.
Mrs. Gerhard gives me a tight smile. She moves to pull out one of the tall chairs tucked under the island. “Hello, Holly. Please take a seat. We were hoping to speak with you for a moment.”
This whole setup screams at me to cautiously back away and then sprint for the exit. Whatever this conversation is, I doubt I’ll like it. When I glance up at Ben, I’m shocked to find him glaring at his mother.
What’s going on?
Fighting my urge to flee, I take the offered chair. My body angles to face Ben’s mom, but he swivels the seat so that I can only see him. In fact, he moves to stand between my knees, taking up my entire field of vision.
“I need to tell you something. I don’t think you’ve heard yet. My parents asked to be here.”
