by Nic Stone
I decline the iced tea he offers me, and within ten minutes, I’m back in the truck.
Stopping. Going. Stopping again. Trees blur by. Nothing registers.
I’m just…here.
And then I’m at the Gas ’n’ Go. Even though I requested off today.
To go see Ethel.
Who’s no longer with us, as Bartholomew put it.
By some miracle, I manage to get out and go inside.
“Rico? I thought you weren’t coming in,” Mr. Z says when he sees me from his perch behind the counter.
“My plans…changed,” I say. “Can I still work?”
“Of course you can, dear. Clock in at will.”
“Thanks, Mr. Z.”
“Oh! Before I forget: when you next speak to your friend Mr. Macklin, do tell him we receive high praise on the quilted with aloe vera!”
Ugh.
“Will do, sir!” Whether before or after I break the news about Ethel, though…
I can feel the dark place creeping up behind me. I’ll fight it off for as long as I can, but with no hope to cling to now—
I sigh.
Jax is still in the hospital.
And so is Mama. Which means no work for her today.
The fate of my family wraps around me like a weighted blanket.
Gulp the tears and panic away. Six-hour shift to get through.
Breaking down is not an option.
This isn’t over, dear reader.
I am still here. I am still waiting.
I will not be snuffed away into oblivion as if I never existed. Permitted to expire with my glorious one-hundred-and-six-million-dollar face smashed up against some lowly business card in this appallingly stale-smelling billfold.
I haven’t seen the light since my purchase, but I hear conversations and music and strange spoken narratives (audiobooks, I heard them called?), and money is a frequent topic of discussion. It seems you humans would do just about anything for it.
She. Should. Not. Give. Up.
I will haunt her dreams until she finds me.
I’M WORTH SO MUCH MORE THAN THIS!
The phone rings, and I startle so intensely, I fall off the bed. Once my heart rate comes down from the-brink-of-death, I hit the light on the side of my watch and pick up the phone as the numbers force their way into my brain. 11:58 p.m.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Danger?”
“Umm…” I rub my eyes. “Which one?”
I hear some papers shuffle. “I have a Stacia on file?”
“Oh. She’s not here.”
More eye rubbing. It’s starting to register that a phone call at almost midnight is odd. And kind of scary, current circumstances considered.
“She’s working a night shift,” I say. “Is there something I can help you with? I’m her daughter.”
“Is there a Mr. Rico available?”
“No, there’s no Mr.—” Wait…“I think you might be talking about me. I’m Rico.”
Silence except for more shuffling. Then: “You’re Rico Danger?”
“Yes…”
“How old are you?”
What the heck? “I’m seventeen. Why?”
“Hold, please.”
There’s a rubbing sound, and then I can hear muffled voices like the caller is covering the receiver with her hand.
Then: “You’re the elder sister of Jaxon Daniel Danger?”
Awake now.
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
“Is there a way we can get in contact with your mother, sweetie?”
Oh, so I’m sweetie now? “Not very easily, ma’am. As I mentioned, she’s at work.” This is getting frustrating. “Is there something wrong with my brother?”
She sighs. “He had a rough day today,” she says. “Ms. Danger was here for a few hours this afternoon, but she left when Jaxon fell asleep. He’s been inconsolable since he woke up and couldn’t find her.”
I shake my head. Why does she never listen to me when I tell her how important it is to say goodbye to him?
I should be at the hospital, but Mama insisted I sleep at home: spring break’s over. Gotta go to school tomorrow. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say before I have a clue what I’m saying.
“I’m sure your brother would appreciate the visit. We’ll tell him you’re on the way.” She hangs up.
And crap.
Crap crap crapper crappy crappola.
It’s two minutes past midnight. Buses stopped running two hours ago. No cash to call a cab.
No cash to do anything.
No cash.
Rent.
Electricity.
Water.
Food.
Gas and maintenance for the truck.
Spinal tap.
Antibiotics.
Extended hospital stay.
Down, down, down. Sinking down, down, down.
It’s too much. I can’t do it. I can’t do anything about any of this. It’s hopeless. I’m trapped. There’s no getting out—
Phone rings again.
“Hello?”
“Rico?”
Jax.
Can’t breathe.
“Rico, are you there?”
I force myself to stare at his empty bed. “Yeah, Jaxy, I’m here. Are you okay?”
“The nurses said you’re coming…are you really coming, Rico?”
Crying now. “Yes, I’m coming, Jaxy. It might be a little while before I get there, but I’m coming.”
“How are you gonna get here, Rico?”
God, this is so unfair.
Don’t sniffle.
“You don’t worry about that, baby boy. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”
“Umm…can you maybe bring my iPad? I’ve watched all the movies they have here.”
Smiling now. My sweet, sweet Jaxy-Boy. “Sure, bud. I’ll bring it.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon?”
“You will. Very soon.”
“K, bye!”
“Bye, Jax.”
He hangs up.
I call Jess.
No answer.
I call again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nope.
I set the phone down.
Stare at it.
I can’t do it.
I can’t call him.
Zan-the-Man.
Yes, he got home this morning and politely asked if he could take me to lunch (which was huge…Zan of old would’ve just popped up at my job).
(I said no.)
Yes, I told him I’m excited to see him.
And I am.
But not under these circumstances.
He’ll feel betrayed; I know how much he digs Jax, and I kept this from him. Not to mention I’ll have to eventually admit I went looking for Ethel without him.
I don’t want him rescuing me. Not right now.
The thought of owing him something on top of everything else? Seriously can’t even stomach it.
I can’t call him.
I can’t.
I sigh and look at the phone.
“Are you really coming, Rico?”
Guess this isn’t really about me anymore, is it?
Zan picks up on the first ring. “Rico?” He groans. “Everything okay?”
I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. “Not really.”
“Why? What’s the matter?” He’s wide-awake now. “Anything I can do?”
The first tear burns my cheek going down. “Yeah,” I say. “I need you.”
* * *
—
We ride to the hospital without spe
aking. No music. No handholding. No contact whatsoever.
As a matter of fact, after the end of our brief phone call, neither of us says a word until we get to the door of Jax’s room.
“Wait,” Zan says, catching my wrist as I reach for the push lever.
I stop. Look at him over my shoulder.
“I should’ve…,” he goes on. Eyes to the floor, then back to me. “Is it okay if I come in?” He shakes his head. “I don’t wanna intrude.”
And now my heart is a bubbling puddle of muck on the floor.
I hug him. Just rise up to my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck.
“Uhh. Okay…,” he says.
(This makes me smile.)
Once I release him, I take his hand, then I push Jax’s door open and pull Zan into the room with me.
You’d think I brought in the actual Santa Claus.
“Oh my God!” Jax says, looking from me to Zan and Zan to me. “Oh my God! You brought Z-man?”
Zan smiles, and Jax puts his face in his hands. “This is better than I could’ve dreamed!”
Zan laughs and ruffles Jax’s hair. “I missed you too, little dude,” he says. “You cool with me dropping by every once in a while?”
“Am I ever!”
I smile and pull Jax’s iPad (from Zan) out of my bag and sit it on the rolly tray-table thing. Zan grabs a chair from across the room and sits it right beside Jax’s bed.
“They treatin’ you all right in here, my man?”
Jax’s face falls. “I guess. I’m ready to go home,” he says, “but it’s gonna be another week and a half at least. Trying not to get too depressed about it.”
Zan sneaks a glance at me—I’ve grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch built into the windowed wall—then turns back to Jax. “Depressed, huh?”
“It’s a real thing, you know? Kid depression. There’s a mind doctor guy who comes in twice a week to make sure I’m not getting too sad.”
I sit up straight. “Does Mama know about this?”
“Mm-hmm,” he says. “She was here last time he came.”
Bothers me a little that I didn’t know. I’m not his mom obviously, but still.
Zan changes the subject. “So what other cool stuff have you learned in here?”
Jax launches into a series of animated explanations: spinal taps, how his IVs work, what strain of bacteria caused his meningitis, which nurse is the “hottest”—he gets some side-eye from me on this one. After a while I tune out and let them talk.
Then Zan’s shaking me awake. “Sorry to bug you,” he says. “He’s out cold. Probably for the night.”
I look over at Jax, then back at Zan. Can’t help but smile—despite the cloud of secrets, lies, and unanswered questions hanging over us. “Thanks for coming, Zan.”
For a few seconds he just stares at me in that way he does that makes me freakin’ nutballs. Especially right now when desire and obligation are occupying the same physical space. Cuz, man, what I wouldn’t do to just escape with him. “You wanna grab a bite to eat?” he says.
Clock: 2:27 a.m.
Brother: freaked the last time he woke up and the person who’d been here was gone. Mama will be here in four and a half hours, and Zan’s probably right about Jax being out for a while, but I’m not sure I wanna risk it.
My hesitation is…obvious.
“We’ll leave him a note with my cell number at the nurses’ station in case he wakes up.”
Mmmm…
He squats and takes my hands. Looks me in the eye. “You need a break, Rico. Hour, hour and a half.”
I sigh.
And nod.
* * *
—
We don’t make it to the Waffle House.
We don’t even make it out of the parking lot.
As soon as we’re both in the Jeep, Zan asks me how I’m doing, and I lose every iota of my shit.
Stuff just comes oozing out: how terrified I was when my brother almost died in my arms; how I feel like everything’s my fault because I didn’t investigate his symptoms; how tired I am from carrying the constant fear that this month, there won’t be enough money; how I went to the Streeters’ and had to leave all hope on their doorstep; how I feel like I’m falling into a black hole and there won’t be any getting out of it.
Zan listens. I can tell he’s got a million and one things going through his mind because he chews his lip and keeps looking down at his wallet. But he doesn’t say a word—even when I get to the Ethel part—and I’m thankful. Just holds my hand and rubs circles on my palm. Drapes an arm across my shoulders and draws me in to him. The more I cry, the closer we get until I’m curled in his khaki’d lap like a toddler, sobbing into the neck of his perfectly pressed polo.
“Zan?”
“Yeah?”
He’s rubbing my arm up and down. It feels really good. Calming. “Do you ever dress down?”
Silence.
I lift my head so I can see his face.
His jaw is clenched.
“Was that offensive?” I say.
He clears his throat. (Maybe it was offensive?) “The truth?”
Uhhh…“Yes?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m a slob.”
Hold on. “Are you saying you dress the way you do to impress me?”
“Potentially?”
I laugh. So hard I start crying again, but from laughter.
“Stop laughing at me.”
I laugh more. “Macklin, you could show up in a moth-eaten T-shirt and holey long johns and I’d be impressed just because you came.” I snuggle into him again.
“Oh.”
We settle into a calm silence. He was right about me needing a break, and I’m glad he’s here to share it with me.
“Hey, Rico?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you should probably get off my lap now.”
“Huh?” My head snaps up.
He’s bright red.
Oh.
I scramble off and over the gearstick back to the passenger seat. Not because I’m like scared of it, just because…Ugh, this is so embarrassing. “I should probably get back upstairs.” **Nervously tucks hair behind ears** “You should head home and get some rest. School tomorrow.”
“I’m going to get you some food,” he says. “Then I’ll go home.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Trust me. I do. Lita was in this hospital for a hip replacement last year. Eat the food here, and you might wind up connected to tubes and a drip bag.”
I laugh again. So thankful for him right now. Wish I could work up the courage to tell him….
“Guessing I won’t see you at school?” he says.
“Oh, I’ll be there. I’m off work tomorrow, so I’ll be able to go home and crash afterward.”
“Will Jax be alone here? Should I come by and see him after I take you home to rest?”
“Zan.” You’d think I’d be used to this from him by now, and yet.
“Sorry, sorry. May I take you to and from school tomorrow, and then come hang out with Jax so he won’t be alone? Please?”
This guy.
Who isn’t my boyfriend.
(Nope, not over that.) “I’d appreciate the rides, but our mom will be here until six. And then I’ll come back. So he won’t be alone.”
He nods. “Well, I meant what I said to Jax about visiting. Just let me know when’s a good time. You can even give your mom my number and tell her to call me if she needs a break.”
Fat chance, but super sweet of him to offer.
“Hey, Zan?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
&
nbsp; We lock eyes, and I count to three.
“Thank you.”
School. Work. Hospital. Home.
Hospital. School. Home. Work.
Hospital home. School work.
And on.
And on.
And on.
After Zan offers about a dozen times, and Jax literally begs her, Mama decides to work Zan into the “Bedside Buddy” rotation. I even catch her smiling when he shows up a couple of times.
Zan pulls Ness, and sometimes Jess, into the mix by arranging rides for me so I won’t have to take the bus and can “maximize my time.”
Two days pass.
Three.
Four.
A week.
I come, Mama goes. Mama comes, Zan goes. Zan comes, I go (after some maybe overextended embracing).
A rhythm is established, and all is well….
Until the day before Jax is scheduled to get his tonsils out.
It’s a Saturday. Jess picks me up from work right at one p.m. She’s acting weird, but it’s Jess. She’s probably high on orgasms or something. (Is that a thing?) She blasts Cardi B on the way to the hospital—lip-synching and gyrating in her seat the whole time—and when I get out, she winks and blows me a kiss.
Definitely the orgasms. (Do she and Ness ever have conversations?)
But then Mama’s more cheery than usual too. She and Jax are playing Uno when I get upstairs, but she positively beams when she sees me.
I stop just inside the door. Baffled.
“Oh look, my darling Rico is here!” she twitters like a drunken songbird.
“Umm…hi?”
Jax snorts.
“You’re right on time!” She turns to Jax. “Uno and out, kid.”
“Aww, man, not again!”
“Better luck next time.” And she ruffles his hair before rising to grab her bag.
This would all be well and good if not for the big kiss she gives me on her way out the door. My mama is not a kisser. Yes, provided everything goes according to plan with the tonsillectomy, Jax will be discharged two days from now. But there’s still the issue of looming unpayable bills, including an impending one from this hospital.
Hardly anything to be cheerful about.
