by Aiden Bates
“So…” Garret said, clearing his throat. “What’s going on? Is he alright?”
Garret’s question made me snort sarcastically.
“Shit, Acosta, you know what I mean,” he said without apology.
“He’s not gonna be if I can’t think of anything. Mami wants to…you know…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I couldn’t say it out loud yet. I jerked my head back and pointed at Pedro with my chin to fill Garret in, though.
“The fuck?” Garret suddenly sat forward in his chair. “When? Right now?”
“Mami says she’s signing the papers in a month,” I said as I shook my head at him. “She’s serious, too, man. I’ve got a month to think of something or…” Or, the worst thing I could imagine would happen. I shrugged to show Garret it was pretty clear what I’d meant, and I didn’t want to verbalize it.
“Why a month? Why now? Did the doctors say he was getting worse or something?” Garret asked, worriedly looking between me and my brother.
“Not any worse, not any better. It’s more about us than about him, honestly. She says it’s tearing her and Papi apart and she says she doesn’t think I get out enough. I’m not going anywhere while he’s still here, so I guess she’s made her decision. The month is for me. Just so I have a chance to say goodbye.”
Garret nodded and turned his head to look at Pedro. Neither of us said anything as Garret watched him. I eventually started staring at the floor, trying again to think of anything to say or do to save my brother.
“Well,” Garret said after a long time, clearing his throat and slapping his thighs as he stood up from the chair. “We’d better get moving. Come on.”
The sudden break in the silence startled me out of my head and I just looked up, not understanding what Garret was doing or saying.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, come on. I’m on a mission to get you the hell out of here for the night, and we were supposed to have left already so get your ass in gear, Acosta. Come on,” Garret repeated.
I must have looked like I was getting ready to explain how I didn’t go out, and I sure as hell wouldn’t go out at a time like this because Garret frowned before I had a chance to say anything.
“Yeah, let me stop you before you get started. You’re saying you now have a month to say goodbye. Before, when I came in, you were talking about thinking of something to stop your mami from…” Garret swallowed, seemingly unable to say what Mami was planning to do, either. “Well, take the night off and maybe you’ll have an idea in the morning. Come on. He’ll still be here tomorrow.” Garret said like it was stupid to argue with him and that I’d even thought about arguing with him.
I was so tired and still in such a state of shock that things had gotten so final so quickly, I didn’t have the energy to fight him. Garret was waving me on and out the door, so after a long look at Pedro, I gave up.
I let Garret drive me to wherever in the hell we were going. I was too preoccupied to keep track. So when I realized he was putting the car in park, I looked up to see where we’d arrived. I almost sank back into my seat when I finally caught on to the fact that we were at the Piggy Bank. All of the exhaustion I carried around with me these days suddenly hit me like a train.
“Holy shit, Long. I can’t. I can’t with this right now. I’m not about to party all night when—”
“Yep. That’s what I did. I dragged you out to go clubbing in your nasty-ass, Spaghetti-In-A-Can-stained t-shirt and your sweats,” Garret answered sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. “Stop with your bullshit and get your ass out of the car before I get Carpenter to help me haul you in there.”
Carpenter? I numbly stepped out of the car and followed Garret into the Piggy Bank. Sure enough, this wasn’t a party at all. The lights in the bar were all on, there wasn’t any kind of music playing and it was practically empty, which was unheard of for a weekend. Despite how tired I was, I recognized a couple of people from school, a few from around the base, and Roman Carpenter drinking at the bar, Teddy at his side. They must have come down from Montana. Maybe to see Logan and Bennet’s baby?
As the only other member of the former squad here, I figured I was probably meant to head in that direction. Before I could start dragging myself over, Charlie Zimmerman, Jason O’Rourke’s fiancé, now regrettably single, happened to catch my gaze. The redheaded omega Charlie was talking to, Mitch Thompson, also looked up at me, and soon, slowly but surely, everyone in the bar was staring at me.
“Jesus…” Logan, my old drill sergeant whispered, loudly enough I could hear him.
With everyone gaping at me, I suddenly got very self-conscious about the days-old stubble I hadn’t gotten around to shaving yet, and the “nasty-ass, Spaghetti-In-A-Can-stained t-shirt and sweats” I was wearing.
“Mm-hmm,” Miss Penny—the owner of the Piggy Bank—said from behind the bar as she looked me up and down and pursed her lips. “It’s an intervention, honey, and not a moment too soon. Sit down, ’cause, from where I’m standing you sure look like you need some intervening.”
“A what?” I asked, looking over my shoulder to where Garret still stood behind me.
“Maybe ‘intervention’ is a little too strong a word!” I heard Charlie call out to me from his seat.
“You look like steaming dog shit in July,” Garret explained.
“Alright, alright,” Roman said, piping up from the bar. “Lay off him, Long. He looks like a damn deer in headlights. Come over here, Acosta. Sit down, have a drink. And we’re all gonna take it easy while he gets his bearings. We ain’t trying to ambush him.” As he talked, he looked around the room at the others, who stood in the awkward silence Roman had asked for. Roman picked a stool right next to him and pulled it away from the bar, patting it to show it was for me.
I trusted all of my squad, but Roman was probably the most good-natured one out of all of us. So, although I was still tired and still suspicious of the whole situation, I did what Roman wanted me to do and walked over to my seat.
As easy-going as Roman was trying to make the situation seem, an ambush was exactly what it felt like. People started coming in closer, dragging chairs behind them, until almost everyone was arranged in a half-circle around Roman and me—mostly around me, I guess—looking to one another like no one was sure how exactly to start whatever was about to start.
Charlie finally cleared his throat. “How have you been sleeping?” he asked.
“Curled up in two chairs, put together,” I answered truthfully.
Charlie exchanged glances with Mitch. Charlie smiled a little sadly at my answer but Mitch snorted and tried to hide his smile.
“I mean…” I said, suddenly understanding what Charlie’s question was really meant to ask. “I’m not sleeping that much. Not well, anyway.”
Charlie nodded like I’d said the right answer or, at least, the answer he expected.
“Are you eating?”
“Yeah, I am!” I answered, perking up at a question I could answer that maybe wouldn’t make me sound like such a shitshow. “Yeah, the nurses bring me sandwiches or I’ll get something out of the vending machines. I’ve got food.”
Miss Penny whistled but said nothing else as she worked on someone’s drink. I watched as Logan and Bennet, who had seen my living conditions next to Pedro’s bed, trade glances with each other at my answer. I instantly wished I hadn’t said anything.
“That’s bullshit!” Garret yelled suddenly. “You can’t fucking live like that!”
“You’ve lost weight, Marcos…”
“You look worn out! You have bags under your eyes.”
“And, you’re pale! You don’t ever go out into the light of day anymore, do you?”
I lost track of who was talking, of the endless questions, comments, and implications. I tried at first to form answers to the things that were being asked of me, but, as soon as I could think of one thing to say to someone, someone else would butt in and would pull me in a different direction with a new remark. Pretty
soon, nobody was giving me time to answer and they were just hitting me with a volley of words, so I closed my eyes and just let the noise wash over me.
“Guys…” I heard Roman warn over the noise.
“You have a support system,” Teddy said, loudly enough I was able to pick it out of the confusion. “You need to use it. You can’t let yourself go like this just because…”
My eyes suddenly snapped open and I became more alert than I had since I first stepped into the bar. Just because? Just because my brother was in a coma and was on the verge of dying? I had a month to save my brother unless the ventilator finally gave him pneumonia first. Or he started developing a bedsore that would eventually become infected and kill him. Or a blood clot was coming loose right now as I sat at this stupid bar. Then I had less than a month.
Either way, my brother had spent the past three years on the verge of death, so why did anyone care what the fuck I looked like? What were you supposed to look like when your brother lay dying? What the hell did anyone—Mami, Papi, these intervenors—want me to do except be there with him? What would they do? Let him lay there alone? Let him die?
Yeah, they would.
I stood, unable to take any more. Fuck them. Fuck them all.
“Marcos…”
“It’s fine, Carpenter,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s fine.”
The room got quiet as those I’d considered my friends looked at me with wide, round, uncertain eyes.
“Thanks, everyone. Super helpful. I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice. I shook my head one more time and wove my way out of the semicircle that had formed around me and stomped toward the exit.
“Fuck y’all backward and forward. Y’all damn near talked the boy to death is what you did…” Over my shoulder, I heard Miss Penny start to tell everyone off. I appreciated the effort, but it was too little too late. Recently, every time I went out and ran into someone, they always pulled that “oh-my-god-I’m-so-sorry” sad face when they found out Pedro was still alive and I was still taking care of him. Every time it happened it just reinforced why I had no business outside of the room, anyway. Nobody else was going to understand what Pedro and I had. No one ever had and no one ever could.
I stepped back out into the night, berating myself for being stupid enough to agree to come out with Garret. I was so angry I didn’t realize I was about two steps away from steamrolling right over someone who was awkwardly hovering outside the bar.
“Jesus, man, watch where you’re…oh…” I wrinkled my forehead at him, recognizing him from somewhere. “You’re…Oscar?”
“Oliver,” he said sticking his hand out for a handshake. “We met at Bennet’s post-baby baby shower thing a few weeks back. I showed up with—”
“Mitch. Yeah, I remember now. Sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying too much attention.”
“No, I get it. Anyway, I wasn’t trying to be rude, I just wasn’t sure if anyone would want me in there. It seemed like a family type thing, and I was only coming in because Mitch didn’t want me to sit out here in the cold.”
“Trust me. I appreciate more people not showing up.” I winced at the idea of having even more folks in the bar telling me what to do. “I don’t… They were all…um… I just… I just have to get back now. That’s all.”
“I understand,” Oliver answered. I didn’t see how he could, but he seemed positive about it, and I wasn’t sure how to read the weird look he was giving me.
“Oliver!” I recognized Mitch’s voice from behind us, and I was thankful for the interruption before things got too awkward. “Oh, and Marcos.”
The little redheaded omega jogged up to us. “Well, that somehow went worse than I expected. Are you still trying to make your great escape? If so, you ought to leave. They’re bound to send out a search party for you soon. ‘Carpenter and Long, Ace Detectives,’” Mitch quipped.
I groaned aloud at Mitch’s statement, trying to fight back the horror that this night might not be over yet.
“Oh, well, don’t worry,” Mitch said. I caught Mitch making puppy-eyes at Oliver. Oliver rolled his eyes, like this—whatever this was—had happened before and threw up his hands. Whatever was being silently discussed between them was then clearly agreed upon, since Mitch nodded his head happily at Oliver and turned to look up at me.
“Great. It’s settled. Nobody knows where our place is yet, so nobody can come looking for you there. We’ll leave you alone. You can lay low, shower, eat, and head back in the morning. Otherwise, I’ll rat you out right now.”
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “I appreciate it. Thank you. But I really need to get back to the—”
“Hospital’s the first place they’re going to look for you,” Oliver said over his shoulder as he and Mitch started walking toward their car.
I blinked. Shit. He was right. They were right. I didn’t have a ride back. Garret was going to be out here any second, and the omega couple were completely right.
“Wait,” I said, jogging to catch up with them, “Wait for me. I’m coming.”
5
Mitch
We took Marcos to our house without another word. I stole a glance over at Oliver, ready to see a question or confusion about why we were bringing this alpha he didn’t know back to our home. But all I saw was concern etched all over his face.
Upon meeting him, most folks decided Oliver was aloof and unsociable because he was quiet and careful. He seemed like just the type to wall off emotions. But they didn’t know him like I did. I could read the empathy in the slight bow of his shoulders, the worry in the tension of his mouth. Oliver didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but it was often tucked very carefully inside his jacket, ready at a moment’s notice.
I’d met Oliver when I’d shown up to a nice hotel ready to be wined, dined and fucked. That was how my dates usually went, and as per usual I’d expected some generic alpha to be waiting for me. Instead, I’d come face to face with a sweet omega with dark eyes who’d been at such a low point in his life he seemed hopelessly lost. During that first encounter all we’d done was talk, and he’d gradually told me bits and pieces about himself. How he worked eighty hours a week as a tax accountant for corporations, how he’d been looking for a connection even though he knew using an escort service was just about sex and casual companionship. I think I fell in love with him a little bit that night, and for the very first time in my professional life I’d wanted to stay with him long after the evening was over.
To my surprise, he’d asked for me again and again. Oliver wasn’t always forthcoming, but over time we’d forged the sort of trust where he could tell me things. Eventually, he told me loved me. God, he’d even handed me a way to quit being an escort if I wanted it. He said I could be with him and he’d look after me, support me. And true to every word he’d ever murmured against my throat as we’d made love, he’d done so.
Which was why he was trusting me with Marcos who looked nearly as lost as Oliver had been. Actually Marcos looked wrecked. I’d seen him at the get-together at Bennet’s earlier this year, and I could tell then he wasn’t the same Marcos I’d known. We weren’t close, but like most kids in Fort Greene we’d gone to the same school, and in a town this size it was impossible not to know everyone and everything about everyone. He’d always been a kindhearted soul, warm and funny, full of life. Handsome too, if I was forced to admit it. Well, he was still handsome, but the bruised rings under his eyes gave away just how exhausted he was.
Marcos sat on our brand-new sectional, his body slumped as if he just didn’t have the strength to sit up straight. I stood looking at him, not sure what I was supposed to do now I had him here. Oliver went to our kitchen and pulled out two cold beers, giving one to Marcos and sitting down beside him. Marcos didn’t even look up, just held the beer loosely by the neck. Oliver was quiet for a minute, and then he spoke, voice soft as always.
“I know you’re not going to believe me, but I get some of where yo
u’re coming from.”
Marcos glanced at Oliver. “You’re right, I don’t believe it. How in the fuck could you understand what I’m going through?” His words could have been mean, cutting, but Marcos was so drained of energy they just came out like a sort of tired plea. “I’m really, really not in the mood for any more intervention talk, guys. That’s why I came here.”
“Good, because that’s not what I’m doing. I had a brother; Rich. He was smarter and funnier and better than me in just about every way. Alpha to boot, so you know how that goes.” Oliver paused, shrugging. “Well, you probably don’t understand that part, but anyway. He was the best older brother anyone could have hoped for.”
Oliver took a long drink of his beer and wiped his mouth before continuing. “He died of cancer when I was in college.”
I never knew Oliver had an older brother. I’d never heard of Rich. Shocked Oliver was telling Marcos something he’d never told me, I listened quietly.
“Called me one day and said they’d found a tumor on his brain stem.” Oliver laughed sardonically before continuing. “I told him that explained why he was so fucking crazy. We laughed together.”
Silence reigned as Oliver captured Marcos’s entire attention, and mine.
“Took him two years to die. What he didn’t tell me until later was his tumor was a diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma. God, you learn words you never thought you’d need when someone is sick. I’ll never forget it. Diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma. Doctors all called it DIPG. Should have just called it what it was. A fucking death sentence. I watched helpless as the person I cared about more than anybody else in the world died, and there wasn’t anything I or the doctors or my parents could do about it. We just had to watch.”
