The Year of Second Chances, page 25
Theo gathered himself for a moment and sniffed. “We had a few beers together. She seemed a bit tipsy, but not out of control.”
I held my tongue as my insides began to burn with anger, but I wasn’t sure where the anger was coming from, where exactly it should land. At Theo, next to me, making excuses. At Mom for being so casual with her life. At the poison that seemed to have such a hold on her. At the stupid gas-station travel mug, which likely still held her booze at this very moment, sitting in one of the cupholders behind a pile of twisted metal that could have left us both orphans. All I could do was loosen my grip from my dress, put my hand on his curly head.
“Theo.”
He turned his head to look at me.
“Were you drinking, too? When you gave her the keys?”
He considered me for a moment, his jaw working as tears still fell down his face. “Nothing huge. Just a few with friends. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Right.” I had suspected as much, but I didn’t know why I’d had such an urge to confirm it. Knowing the full details of the situation wouldn’t make either of us less miserable. But a small part of me wondered if things would be different if he had been more responsible. If he hadn’t been so loose.
Theo took a shaky breath. “Are you judging me?”
I balked. “No, no. I was just trying to understand . . .” My voice faded, my face flushing with the white lie. “I just want you to promise me that you’ll be more careful. I know you’re scared right now, and I’m scared, too, but if she gets through this . . .”
“Don’t say if,” Theo said, anger joining the fear in his voice. “Like, please, Robin. For once. Don’t think the worst.”
“I’m not. I just want to make sure this doesn’t happen again—”
“We’re not doing this.” He stood. “I shouldn’t have given her the keys. I know that. I’m a piece of shit, all right?”
I reached for his hand, regret churning alongside the frustration. “You’re not a piece of shit.”
He pushed my hand away and began to pull up something on his phone. “I can’t sit here while you silently judge me.”
“You can’t leave.”
“Watch me.”
And suddenly, he was walking away, and I didn’t know what to say to stop him. Right out the hospital doors. I considered running after him, but I was frozen inside my own cyclone of feelings. And if I went, who would be left to speak to the doctors? To make all the hard decisions? No one.
So here I was again. Holding down the fort while he got to storm off and distract himself from his own guilt. My anger rose up again, biting.
An hour passed with no news. No Theo. Soon, Jake returned with a couple of coffees—he, too, more silent and stiffer than usual. Every time the automatic doors whooshed open, I looked up. Stranger after stranger. Finally, Nance appeared, clutching her rosary, her red-gray curls frayed by stress and humidity. And after Nance, in walked Levi. I hadn’t known he was coming.
I rose from my chair and fell into his arms.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
“We don’t know yet,” I muttered into his chest.
I didn’t know why I was finding his embrace so soothing—maybe I was just overtired—but I stayed in Levi’s arms for a long time, squeezing back as hard as I could.
“Yikes, go easy,” he said, unlocking my hands, glancing at Jake.
“Have you seen my brother?” I asked Levi.
“No,” Levi said. “Why? Did he leave or something?”
“Maybe he’s just getting some air . . .” Jake said tentatively.
“He’s not,” I snapped. “We fought.”
“Sorry,” Jake said, raising his hands. “You didn’t tell me.”
At the shock and confusion in Jake’s expression, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to go take a look outside.”
“Can I come?” Jake asked.
“Sure,” I said. I tried to smile at him, turning to take his hand. “I’d like that.”
Outside, the night was quiet and cool. We walked down a path along the parking lot in silence. Either his phone was turned off or he had blocked me. “Theo?” I called.
After my third call with no reply, Jake said gently, “Even if he is out here, I don’t think he’s going to answer you.”
“You don’t know that,” I said, letting go of his hand.
I paused under one of the young trees next to the path. Jake stopped, too, his arms folded, his eyes on his shoes.
“Are you going to tell me what happened between you two at some point?” he asked.
I thought I could detect bitterness in his voice. I knew I should probably wonder why, but the anger and worry inside of me was drowning out everything else. “It’s just Theo being Theo. I’ll explain someday. It’s just all messed up right now.”
Jake nodded. “Okay, then.”
“Should we go back?”
“If you want.”
And yet, within the panic, something was telling me to pause here, to investigate. Something was wrong. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yep,” he said, flashing me a brief smile, which didn’t quell my doubts.
“Okay.” I couldn’t take him at his word. “Are you sure?”
“What?” he said, tension edging his voice. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine,” I said. I’d also been so-called fine a million times over the past two years. What I had really meant was that I was in pain, but I was going to bear it anyway, because I couldn’t stand the shame of not knowing how to make it go away. It would never really go away. “I’m beginning to think that word has lost its meaning.”
Jake let out a humorless laugh. “It’s just that . . .” He sighed. “You want me here, right?”
“Yes, of course,” I answered, tentative. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, and I wasn’t in the mood for guessing. “Why?”
“I’m just not so sure anymore.”
“What? What did I do?”
“Nothing,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Nothing. But, like, we were on this path, we were talking about the future, and you’re staying at my house . . .” He tossed up his hands. “And now you won’t tell me what the hell is happening. It’s like you’re in the middle of a disaster, and I want to rescue you, but you won’t answer me when I call out.” Jake swallowed, like he was fighting nerves as he kept my gaze. “So this is me. Calling out. Hey. Hello.”
“Well, thank you.” I felt my guard drop an inch and smiled. I couldn’t help it. “I don’t need a rescue, but I do want you here. I’m glad you’re here.”
“But . . .” he prompted, indicating that I should fill in the blank.
Now I was beset with my own nerves. “I want to tell you everything. I do.”
“But . . .” Jake repeated.
I remembered the fresh anger at Mom that had rolled over me in the waiting room, the anger I’d seen reflected back at me in Theo’s eyes. “I guess there’s stuff that’s coming up that not even I knew about.”
“See? This is good,” Jake said, his own small smile growing. “This is what we need. You letting me in.”
Still, I felt resistance. The same hard center I’d run into when he’d tried to be nice by taking over my kitchen. “But it’s not your mess to clean up. It’s mine. And it’s not over.”
“That’s the point of a serious, long-term relationship, Robin,” Jake said with that mirthless laugh again. “Sharing life stuff. Family stuff.”
“Obviously I know that,” I said, my own disdain now palpable.
“And you do let people in,” he added. “Just not me.”
The sharpness of his voice gave me pause. “What do you mean?”
Jake was quiet, considering. “You don’t want me to get into this.”
“Get into what?” My heart pounded. “Go on. Tell me.”
He sighed. “Has anything ever happened between you and Levi?”
My mouth fell open. My stomach dropped, though my mind was blank. “What?”
“There’s just something off about him and you. Even that first time we met him at that pop-up, remember? He was always looking at you . . .”
Was he joking? He wasn’t. “I’m so confused.”
“You’re confused?” Jake asked, sarcastic. “Imagine being your boyfriend. The sheer number of texts between you two. Then this last month before the memorial, you leave early, you come home late.”
“Because we’re busy!” I said, incredulous.
“No. Because you’re into each other. That other day I pulled up after the garage sale? You were practically about to make out.”
Heat rushed to my face. I thought of that day, of Levi’s face close to mine, the smell of him, the playful shove I’d given him as he rode my bike. “We’re friends.”
“Whatever . . .” Jake put his face in his hands. “Never mind. You two are close. You have to admit that.”
“He’s known me forever.”
“I know. Just forget it. I was just trying to make a point.”
“Sure. You want to be part of my family drama. Welcome.”
“I wanted to be close to you,” Jake snipped. “Sue me.”
“Wanted?” I emphasized the past tense.
At that, he just looked at me, perhaps unsure of how to answer. Perhaps I had just answered myself.
I felt sick. Weary. At capacity. Soon, I knew, I would feel nothing, and I didn’t want to feel nothing. I didn’t want to lose him. “God, I wish we weren’t doing this right now.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.” In the light coming from the hospital, he looked genuine. He hesitated, rubbing his hand across his scalp, and seemed to steel himself. “But you can’t blame me for speaking up. Something changed between us.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
He gave me a sad smile. “I think it does, actually.”
I felt my insides seize up. Jake turned and walked away. This time, I didn’t follow him. I stayed for a moment, alone, watching his back.
Gabe had left me standing outside of a hospital, too. Two years ago, now. I shouldn’t have let him go, I thought to myself. Utter nonsense. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, of course. But something chided me. One of my inner voices, perhaps. You could have done better, and it wouldn’t be this way. You could have clung harder. A breeze snaked down the row of branches lining the parking lot, shivering the leaves. Take me with you, I said to Gabe. To no one.
26
The one thing I want to know about you is . . .
Your acceptable average decibel level.
The next morning, I woke up stiff, curled in a ball, my knees and back aching. Mom lay asleep in her hospital bed. Her slack mouth might have been a scary sight for anyone who didn’t know that she always slept that way, so I leaned over her and tried to close it gently so she wouldn’t wake up thirsty. Her jaw remained stubbornly open. The good news was that she had been concussed, but not contused. No bleeding in the brain—thank goodness. But even so, her wrist, hip, and leg were shattered at the point of impact. Her limbs now hung suspended from her sleeping body, wrapped in white.
It was the best possible outcome, I supposed, considering what could have happened to a person inside a smashed-up car. We were just glad she would recover. It was hard to celebrate fully, considering I hadn’t seen Theo since last night, not to mention that in the wake of the accident, my second chance at love was disappearing, almost gone altogether.
It was a miracle that I had even slept, spending hour after hour staring into the dim room, turning over Jake’s accusations, revisiting every moment in the last few months, trying to see what he saw. Jake didn’t understand my full history with Levi, I kept telling myself. He had mistaken the unnatural closeness that happens when you grieve someone together for falling in love. All of this I wished I could tell him—if only he would answer my texts with anything beyond I need some space, which he’d sent around midnight last night. Then, Hope your mom’s okay.
“Morning,” Nance said behind me.
She had spent the night in a chair, too. I didn’t think she would last, but apparently she’d come prepared. She had tucked herself under what looked like a handmade quilt and had a neck pillow around her shoulders, a blindfold now pushed to her forehead, where her curls wilted.
“Want gum?” she asked, extending a package of Trident. “Sugar-free. Like brushing your teeth.”
I took a piece. “That’s sweet, Nance,” I said. “Sweet of you to stay.”
“Oh, pish posh,” Nance said, stuffing her gum back in her purse. “My BFF’s in trouble. This is just what you do.”
Voices in the hall. The squeak of the door. I looked up, expecting Jake or Theo, though I hadn’t heard from either. Hoping.
Levi, armed with two bursting bags, strode past the blue room divider and into our little corner.
“Hey!” I said, probably too loud. My eyes went to the pack of water poking out of his bag. My mouth was suddenly dry. Why was I nervous?
“Hey.” Levi followed my gaze and tossed me a water. “How is she?”
I chugged. “Sleepy,” I answered him between gulps.
“There’s my favorite!” Nance called, unapologetically flirtatious.
“Long time no see, Nance,” Levi said.
Nance and Levi had sprung into action together last night at the memorial, managing the cleanup and break-down. The whole field was now clear, food wrapped and equipment stored, and with Nance’s help, Levi had even managed to pick up a change of clothes for Mom and, from the looks of it, provisions. Now, wearing a clean white T-shirt, his brown hair trimmed to the shoulder, he was a vision—and not just because he was holding snacks.
“But really, she’s good, considering,” I continued. “About to go into surgery. They just have to wait for the swelling to go down.”
“Tough break, Marge,” Levi said, pulling the blanket gently over her uncovered foot. He set down his bounty on a nearby table. “Man, I remember her dance moves at your reception. She’s gonna have to train herself back up.”
I let out a small laugh. “She’ll be back to disco shape in no time.”
We all watched my mother for a moment, still unstirring, her hair in a poofy halo around her sleeping head.
I sighed. “God, this shouldn’t be happening.”
“Eh, shit happens,” Nance said. “This isn’t the first scrape Marge has been in. Won’t be the last.” She folded her blanket, setting her neck pillow neatly on top. “Well, I’m gonna go home and get my own clothes,” she said. She lifted a plastic drugstore bag. “There’s some treats in here. If she wakes up tell her I’ll be back in a jiff.”
When Nance was gone, I peeked inside. Nicotine patches, chewing tobacco, and three or four airplane-size bottles of vodka. Oh, and gum. Sugar-free. On one of the bottles, a handwritten note was taped: Put these with those little cans of tomato juice they give you and you got yourself a Bloody. xo, Nance.
“Jesus Christ,” I said under my breath.
“What is it?” Levi asked.
I held up the vodka with the note taped to it long enough for Levi to read and tossed the lot of it in the trash. Except for the gum.
Levi snorted and collapsed into Nance’s chair. “Damn. With friends like these . . .”
“Who needs friends?” I finished, catching his eye as I popped another piece of gum in my mouth.
“Maybe it was supposed to be a joke,” Levi offered.
“Well, it’s not funny. They took her blood the night of the accident. She’s going to get charged with a DWI.”
“Oh, my god.” Levi sat up in his chair. “I’m so sorry.”
“It is what it is,” I said, echoing something my dad used to say. “Not looking forward to relaying the news to Theo, I’ll tell you that much.”
Levi looked around, as if noticing Theo’s absence for the first time. “Where is he? He never came back?”
I shrugged. “He isn’t taking this very well, Mom being mortal. Maybe he can sense this is the end of an era.”
“End of what era?”
The era of pretending twelve packs of Hamm’s didn’t disappear every night between the two of them. Both of us looking the other way while Mom sampled the product behind the bar. Theo filming Mom’s loopy rants for social-media clout.
“Mom’s partying days, I guess,” I said, putting air quotes around the euphemism.
“You think she has a problem?”
No one had ever asked me that before. No one, not even me, had ever explicitly referred to Mom’s drinking as a problem. I was hesitating, searching for the same resistance I’d found when I’d tried to open up to Jake. Levi’s gaze was thoughtful, patient, not demanding of an answer. I trusted him, I realized. Not to judge. And to tell me the truth, always, even if my own relationship with that particular concept was dubious. I pointed to Mom, knocked out in bed. “Don’t you think this is proof enough?”
“It’s not for me to say.” Levi held up his hands. “But I support you if you do. I’ve seen a lot of that in my time in the service industry. Just let me know how I can help.”
“Thank you,” I said and felt the first small pocket of relief in twelve hours. “I appreciate it more than you know.” Then it slipped out. “You’re basically all I have right now.”
“What do you mean? You and Jake . . .”
I shrugged. “Unclear. He isn’t speaking to me.”
Levi grimaced. “Why? What’s going on?”
I kept my eyes on the hospital tile. “Partly you.”
He laughed, incredulous. “Me? What did I do?”
I shook my head. “It’s so ridiculous. He actually thinks . . .” I pretended to be interested in a granola bar I’d dug out of one of Levi’s tote bags. My heart began to beat harder. “He thinks we have a thing for each other.”
“You and me?”
I glanced up at him and nodded.
“Damn.” He didn’t speak for a moment, running his hands through his hair. When he did speak, his voice was low, quiet. “And what do you think of that?”
“I guess I see why he would go there,” I said, slowly. “We are friends. And we’ve been spending a lot of time together. But I don’t think that’s the only thing. It’s more about him feeling like I wasn’t letting him in. Since he can’t do anything about that, he found a different target.” I gestured lamely in Levi’s direction. “But he’s way off base, obviously,” I added.
