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God, I need a smoke.
Sydney putters about in the kitchen, giving me a moment to calm down. I mean, it wasn’t just her sudden poke that threw me off. I’d barely been keeping it together when West arrived, and my concentration is totally shot.
I rub both hands viciously over my face, then drag in a deep breath, and another.
There. All better, see? Nothing’s wrong. It was all just a nightmare, much like the ones West has sometimes.
Yeah…
I’m still fighting it when Sydney returns with sandwiches and tall glasses of cold soda on a tray. Or maybe it’s the band of steel that tightens around my chest when she puts it down between us and smiles at me, cutting off my breath completely.
I’m not used to being taken care of. Today she could break me so damn bad I won’t be able to find the pieces again. I should have told her to leave. To fucking go and leave me alone.
But I couldn’t then, and I can’t now. So I grab a sandwich and bite into it with a grunt of thanks.
Suddenly I’m hungry. My body remembers it hasn’t had any food since Syd’s bowl of soup yesterday—the bowl I threw against the wall, dammit—and my stomach gurgles happily at the arrival of solid food.
She takes her sandwich, and we eat in silence. Well, I practically inhale my food, and then watch her as she eats hers like a civilized person.
“You didn’t have to stay,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “It gets lonely at home.”
I needed to get Syd alone anyway, and not only to try some moves on her. I have to talk to her about her mom. About the suspicions that have been hounding me ever since she arrived to live in the apartment across from mine.
Well, make the most out of a bad situation, right? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? She’s here, even though she shouldn’t be.
I open my mouth to ask her, but she beats me to it.
“Mom isn’t here right now. That’s all.”
“Is she, ever?”
The color drains from her face. “Yes.”
“No.” I sigh. “She’s never there, is she?”
She shrugs, her expression closed off. “She’s busy.”
“Are you…?” Goddammit. I shake my head. I don’t wanna do this. Also, not the best day to have this convo with the shitty way I feel, but whatever. Maybe there is no good day for such a thing. “Are you holding up okay? What about rent and bills? Does she send you money?”
“I work. And I have some savings.”
“Savings.”
“I sold some things we had, okay? The TV and stuff. I had to. Until she comes back.”
Fuck.
“Syd.” What do you say to that? You’re in denial? You should have told me sooner? I should have talked to you long ago, voiced my suspicions? Then a horrible thought hits me. “And when your savings run out? What then?”
“Then… I’ll have to go. Or let social services take me.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“She’s coming back, Nate.” Her voice trembles. “She is. I just have to wait for her.”
I nod. “Come here.” I open my arms, and she scoots closer, burrowing against my chest. “It will be all right.”
