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"What's so wrong with you living and working with me?" he huffs in agitation.
I reach my hand out and rub his forearm. I know what he’s thinking. He thinks Mom’s having issues with our relationship again. But I know that's not it.
"Nothing is wrong with it,” I gently explain. “She just thought I'd have a different college experience. She's coming around, though. She knows how much I love you. Besides, she doesn’t get to choose where I live. She’s not even paying for my college." My grandfather is. He set aside this trust fund type thing for me when I was born. It’s strictly for college purposes only. I can’t use it for personal stuff.
Kyle exhales heavily and we sit in silence as we finish off our breakfast.
"Take a shower with me before you go?"
I nod my head. What I really want to say is come home with me. But I don't.
We stay in the shower until the water turns cold and my fingertips wrinkle and crease. He kisses me the whole time, like he's terrified he's never going to do it again. I'm not sure what's gotten into him. Every touch, every kiss turns into a long, drawn-out affair. Not that I mind. But I'm starting to worry. Why is everything so intense and slow and...passionate?
What's he so afraid of every time he lets me go?
He walks me out to Danny's truck, my bag slung over his shoulder. My heart pings with unease. I don't want to leave him. I don't want to sleep without him beside me. I'm just...ugh. He's been having some anxiety. It’s not bad, but he had a panic attack the other night. I'm really worried about leaving him. He has medication for it. He has for a while, I guess. But watching him gasp for breath and rub his chest in the middle of the night was terrifying. I wanted to help, but the only thing I could do was hold him and tell him everything would be alright.
Even though it won't be.
I stop in front of the truck. "Come with me."
Kyle's hands cup my face. "I have that show tomorrow. I can't."
"Next weekend?" I push. "It's your mom's birthday. You have to."
He kisses my forehead. "We'll see."
"I love you," I tell him as I lean into him, needing...I don't know what from him. Whatever it is, he doesn't offer it. Or maybe he can't.
"I love you more," he wraps his arms around me. "Call me tonight?"
I nod as I bury my face in his chest, breathe him in. "I will."
I pull away before he sees the tears welling in my eyes. I try really hard not to cry in front of him. Not to break down. I need to be strong for him—for the both of us.
Except strong is the last thing I feel right now.
Everything is falling apart.
Diane.
Kyle.
Life.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
—
Diane's been sleeping for the past three hours. She’s curled up in bed, her strawberry blond hair sprawled out on the pillow above her like a halo, soft snores falling from her lips.
She’s dying.
A little more every day.
I don’t know how to process it all.
I set my book down on the table beside me and shift in the white chair I've been curled up in. The sun is beginning to set and I feel panic rising in my chest.
