AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She leaves the table. She probably doesn’t want me to see her upset. My dad follows her after glaring at me some more. I stare at my plate for a few minutes, no longer hungry.
Then, I rise and walk to my bedroom and lock away the world. I don’t bother to turn on the lights as I lie on top of my perfectly made bed, fully clothed. I lie there for hours, picturing my life and how it’s going to change. What my mother is about to go through. My family doesn’t work without her. She’s the glue that holds us all together. And I’ve taken it for granted all these years. I’ve taken her for granted. I never considered a time when she might no longer be here. I can’t picture it now.
The lights fade outside until I’m drowning in darkness, trapped inside a nightmare I can’t escape. At some point, I fall into a restless sleep.
The next morning, we rise and have breakfast. I force down the food. Mom talks about the weather like nothing is different while everything has changed. She’s overly cheery, always worried more about my feelings than her own.
I’m angry with her, though I don’t know why. None of this is her fault, but my brain is hardwired for selfishness. And she’s stealing my tenuous peace. It was already hanging by a thread after Oakley and Chase.
Our family has always revolved around me, which probably isn’t a good thing, especially when shit hits the fan. I don’t know how to step up and be the support she’s going to need. I’ve never had to be that person. I’ve never been someone’s rock before. I wouldn’t know where to start.
Dad is still mad at me for last night. I can’t blame him, but I can’t find the will to fix it either. I don’t think I know how to even if I had the desire.
Our perfect middle-class family is shattered with just one word. Cancer. It feels sort of like those movies that depict an idyllic American family, but in the end, it’s all a facade. A huge lie. Because nothing is that perfect. And if it is, perfection never lasts. Life always gets in the way.
I make up a reason to leave after breakfast. Both my parents know it’s an excuse, but Mom lets me get away with it anyway. Like I said, she’s the better person here. By far.
I hug her for longer than I usually do. I tell her I’ll call to see how she’s doing and that I plan to be here when they schedule her surgery. But we both know I’m not very supportive. I can say all the right things, but what will happen when it’s actually time for action? What kind of son will I be then? Right now, I’m just going through the motions, and all those emotions that I’ve been running from are catching up to me.
I don’t glance at the house again when I back out of the driveway. I don’t wave at Mr. Cruise across the street. I don’t feel that same comfortable contentment that I felt on the way here. I was home for less than twenty-four hours, yet everything has changed. I can feel my life unraveling, and I’m powerless to stop it. I drive from one house that is no longer my home to another at college, where I don’t feel like I entirely belong either.
I switch to autopilot on the way home, pushing down all the conflicting feelings stirring in my chest. I’m numb, but I welcome the numbness. I don’t want to feel. So, I shove the news about my mother into the same spot as Oakley and Chase. I push it so deep inside that I won’t be able to find it.
Then, I won’t have to acknowledge that everything around me is crumbling.
Just call me Saint Jude, patron saint of lost causes. At least I’m living up to my nickname.
CHAPTER THREE
EMERSON
APRIL
FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE
I pause to glance around the house when we walk through the doorway. The place is packed. Music is playing—Jack Harlow’s voice dialed up—with the bass pulsing through the floor. Furniture is pushed against the wall, making a space for dancing, and there are plenty of bodies gyrating against each other in the middle of it. Off to the side, a dining room is present, but it houses a ping-pong table instead of a place to eat.
Right now, it’s the site of a fierce game of flip cup. It’s boys versus girls, and by the looks of it, the girls are getting demolished. I don’t know why women ever think they can outdrink a bunch of jocks. Most of those guys can imbibe anyone under the table by muscle mass alone. Plus, they seem to train for it weekly. But by the tipsy grins and twirling of the hair, the women don’t seem to care that they are outmanned.
“Let’s grab a drink,” my sister yells over the noise.
Her hand collapses around my wrist, and she drags me through the dense crowd. I stare at the back of her bleach-blonde head as she paves the way. She’s wearing a clingy cotton dress that barely covers her ass. And it dips so low in the front that she’s very likely to have a nip slip tonight because, of course, she isn’t wearing a bra. But she doesn’t need to. Not after the enhancement she talked our parents into funding for her eighteenth birthday. Her boobs are unnaturally high and tight all on their own.
My older sister by three years, Eve, is in her element tonight. She likes to party. She always has. She fits in perfectly with this scene. I, on the other hand, don’t. I’m not sure how she talked me into being her wingwoman. But here I am. What can I say? I guess I have a soft spot for her. One she exploits every chance she gets.
We make a pit stop in the kitchen, where she grabs two seltzers cooling in ice, handing me one. I roll my eyes but take it anyway. I rarely drink. My sister would know that if she paid any real attention to me. To say she’s self-absorbed is an understatement. But as I glance around at the masses, I don’t think I can take an entire night here, sober, among the savages. When in Rome …
I pop the top and take a sip, grimacing when the bitter taste hits my mouth. Eve downs hers like it’s water and she’s dying of thirst. She drinks the entire can before discarding it and grabbing a second. I raise my eyebrow.
“What?” she scoffs before looking up at the ceiling. “I thought for one night, you could loosen up, Em.”
“You know very well how uptight I am, Eve,” I quip, unbothered by her assessment. “Dragging me to a rager won’t change that.”
Where Eve likes to party, I’m more of a Netflix and chill kind of girl. If you find me out, it’ll be at an open mic night or when an acoustic band is playing at some obscure place. Or maybe an art opening. Not exactly the wild Friday night that most of my peers would prefer. But I’ve never been one to follow the crowd. I march to the beat of my own drum—I always have. And I don’t need anyone’s approval, not even my big sis’s.
When we were younger, Eve and I were thick as thieves. Our parents barely noticed our existence, so we became each other’s family. I looked up to her. I wanted to emulate my big sister. Where she went, I followed. It was us against the world for a time. And then puberty hit, and everything changed. I became a boring nuisance. An annoying little sister that Eve tolerated rather than liked. And she became boy crazy—a condition she still hasn’t outgrown. She followed a boyfriend to college but dumped him within the first week on campus once she saw the variety of options at her disposal. And I trailed her here for two reasons. The first was the stellar art program at the university. And the second was to keep her out of trouble. The art department has lived up to its reputation. But I’ve failed miserably at protecting Eve from herself. I should’ve learned a long time ago that a tornado cannot be contained. It spins out on its own, destroying everything in its path, until it loses steam and dies out. Eve still hasn’t lost her steam.
I was surprised when Eve showed up on my doorstep tonight, begging me to come out with her. I can’t remember the last time we attended a party together, which is probably why I agreed to come. I’m usually not really her speed. She’s zero to ninety in thirty seconds, whereas I’m more of a leisurely stroll. But as different as we are, I love Eve and all her craziness. Well … most of her craziness. We’re family, and that means something to me.
