Page 125 of Let the Light Shine Through

I’ve been doing it for months, for years, long before Roz showed up and took hold of my most fallible organ like he alone would take on the abominable end, my abominable end.

Rowdy and Dad are a gimme. A rule I’d never try breaking. It doesn’t mean I have to put them through the worst of it though. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to shield them completely, but whatever the oncologist says, I can water down. Internalize it. Let them think it’s not as bad as they believe. As bad as I believe. I’m not sure how exactly, but I have to try. My dad will be wrecked, but if I can keep Al’s from going under, then he’ll be wrecked with a steady income and a solid purpose to keep going.

With football season back in full swing, Al’s is busier than ever, but the bills will eventually pile up. The debt will pile up. It’ll bury Al’s first, then me.

Me.

Buried.

Gawd. No matter how much preparation you go through, it doesn’t help. It doesn’t fucking help. I feel like I’ve been getting ready to die ever since my mom did, and I’m still not ready. I feel like those plants out there, desperately gasping their last breaths before winter shows up, unleashing its suffocating snow in a vicious test of perseverance. I want air. I want to breathe. I want to live.

I stuff my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie to hide the shaking.

At least Rowdy would come out all right. Wrecked but all right. He’s got his boys, his hobbies, his whole life to help him bounce back.

It’s Roz though… Roz has nothing. Nothing to win, nothing to lose. He’d go for broke trying to save me, and bankrupt he’d be…of everything. He’d lose himself entirely. He would. I know he would.

“Roz told me he had some of your stuff he wanted you to pick up,” Rowdy says, slowing to a stop. “I thought it’d be easier if we just grabbed it now so you’re not alone.”

I side-eye him. Most of the stuff I use at Roz’s is Roz’s.

He shrugs, saying, “Who knows? It’s probably just rings and shit,” before parking and getting out.

Roz’s Chevy sits idle in the driveway.

I crack my door, calling to Rowdy, “I’ll wait here while you get it all, okay?”

It’s easier when I don’t have to see those golden magnets Roz thinks pass as eyes.

“He left everything out back. Said you’d know where to look. I don’t know what that means. Grow a pair and come on.”

A pair of what? Those overly sensitive lumps filled with ramen-noodle-looking tubes? The ones men act like us women should covet while simultaneously bowing down to? Nah. I’ve got several pairs of things on my body that make me twice as strong as those crybabies with overly sensitive sacs.

With an eye roll, I jump out, following him to the back. Why would Roz put my jewelry out here?

One ear trained for any noise from the house, I do a quick scan around the backyard, then say, “I’m not seeing anything. Let’s go.”

“Oh, shit.” Rowdy perches down at the pool’s edge, rubbing a hand over his thick strip of hair.

“What?”

“Is that…?”

Oh my gawd, what’s in there?

I stalk closer, imagining all the glittering metal I’m about to see at the bottom of the pool. I didn’t expect Roz to stoop this low. I knew he’d take it hard, but being petty enough to toss my shit in the pool? I gotta say, it’s not so fancy.

As soon as I approach, Rowdy shoots to his feet, latching on to my arms and angling my back toward the pool. Giving me an apologetic look, he says, “Sorry,” before I feel the water slap my back, robbing my breath right from my lungs.

By the time I get my feet under me again, my dude is long gone, and I can vaguely make out my V8 pulling away over the sound of my teeth chattering.

I’m so buying him a pocket pussy for Christmas and letting him open it in front of his grandma. If I’m still here.

I shed the heavy layers on my way to the back door, not giving a shit who might see my bra and underwear. The pants alone are like walking in sheets of ice, the hoodie like an oversoaked sponge, continuously leaking streams of freezing water.

In front of the sliding glass door, there’s a folded colorful beach towel next to a long foam dart gun with a note taped to it. Shoving everything aside, I fist the towel with numb fingers, rubbing it over my shivering body.

The note catches my eye again, probably because it’s Roz’s handwriting.