by S. K. Falls
The moment stretched out. I could feel it pressing against my ears, my nose, trying to wriggle its way into my mouth. I had to say something. I had to get it out somehow.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “I’m going to North Carolina.”
Drew exhaled, just a sharp thrust of air straight from his lungs into the night air, a near-silent exclamation point. He turned to me, very slowly. “Can we sit down?”
I blinked, trying to understand his question. “Oh, um, yeah. Of course.” I led the way to a bench on the side of the building, and we sat. The cold seeped into my jeans and clung to my skin.
“Just, you know, if you’re breaking up with me, I’d like to be sitting for it.” He pushed a hand through his hair, his eyes glistening.
“No, I’m not—” I put my hand on his thigh, and he just kept his eyes on me, steady, unblinking. My chest actually hurt, as if my heart were literally shattering in there, the pointy edges jabbing into my ribs, leaving scars on the inside that would never heal. “I don’t want to break up with you. It’s not my decision to go. But… I think it’s best.”
“Wait. It’s not your decision? So whose decision is it?” The muscle in his jaw twitched. He was mad, trying to hold it in.
This conversation wasn’t going like I’d planned. I needed to haul it back on track, back to me, to the lie I’d told. I rubbed my hands together; my fingers were numb from the cold. Why hadn’t I brought gloves? “My dad’s, but it’s—”
“That’s bullshit. You’re an adult. He can’t make you go if you don’t want to.” He tapped his cane on the ground as he talked, to punctuate his words.
“Yes, he can, actually. I don’t have any money. And he won’t let me live at their place anymore; he won’t support me. You’re right, Drew, I’m an adult, which means my dad doesn’t have to pay for my meals or my housing like he is right now.” I shrugged. “That’s his prerogative. So I’m choosing to go to school. It’ll be good for me anyway, to get on with my education.”
Drew scooted closer to me on the bench. We sat facing each other, his thighs bookending mine on either side. He set his cane down and took my hands in both of his. Warmth seeped back into my skin; feeling returned. “Move in with me.”
Of all the things I’d imagined coming out of this talk tonight, it wasn’t that. My heart plunged into the depths of my body because I knew what it must’ve taken for him to offer this, and what it was going to take for me to refuse.
“What?”
“Move in with me,” Drew said, softer. He put his hands on either side of my face. My hands, which only moments ago had been ensconced in his, so sure of their place, were now suspended in the air without purpose. “I love you, Saylor. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone, ever. I don’t want you to go to North Carolina. Okay? That’s too far away. And maybe that’s selfish for me to say. Maybe the right thing to say would be, ‘Go. Go get your education.’ But I’m selfish. I need you here with me. And I can see it in your face that you want to be here with me, too.”
He kissed me, all of his yearning, all of the love, pouring out through his mouth and into mine, until I could barely breathe, until all I was aware of were his lungs, pushing life into mine.
“Stay,” he whispered.
I stared into his eyes, the blue and flecks of glowing silver all-consuming. It seemed I could see the whole world in there, everything I’d ever wanted to see all compressed into those two circles. How easy it would be, to simply slip into this life I’d made for myself. I could shed my old life, my old sick, diseased life, like a snake molts its skin, leaving behind what doesn’t fit anymore to take on something new and fresh. My life with Drew, it could be what I’d been dreaming of since that night he kissed me outside Sphinx. It could be. All it would take would be swallowing one lie I’d told, making an excuse for the strange case of the disappearing MS.
My head hurt; it throbbed with the weight of those decisions. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know.”
“Then take tonight to think about it.” He kissed me again. “Don’t say anything yet. Just come with me. Okay? Just come to my apartment. Sleep on it.”
After a pause, I nodded. I was so tired. Maybe I could take tonight off. Just not think about everything. Just one more night of blissful quiet, of peace. That’s all. In the morning, I’d rally again. I’d tell Drew for sure. In the morning.
Hand in hand, we walked to my car. Hand in hand, we drove to Drew’s place.
That night, we didn’t make love. I got into his bed fully clothed, and he got in beside me, curling his body around mine, as if he wanted to absorb all the thoughts I had of going away. He stroked my hair, going over my temple, down my cheek, to the place where my neck and shoulder joined. He did that over and over again. I closed my eyes, letting his warmth steal over me, steal my anxiety away. It was going to be okay. In the morning, it would all be okay.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I jerked awake when Drew’s cell phone let out a shrill ring.
He kissed the back of my head. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Text message.”
Uncurling himself from me—we were still in the exact same positions we’d been in when we fell asleep—he reached out to the night table and grabbed his cell phone. After he read what the screen said, he typed in a text message, cursed when his fingers wouldn’t cooperate, and then re-typed until he got the message right. Putting the phone on the bed between us, he looked at me. “It’s Zee. She’s calling an emergency TIDD meeting at the hospital.”
We looked at each other a long moment, and I felt my breathing slow. “Pierce?” My voice sounded like I was underwater, muted and deep.
“That’s what I think.” Drew reached out, squeezed my hand, and then turned around to get out of bed. I followed.
We were quiet on the car ride there. I kept sneaking glances at him out of the corner of my eye. If he felt his own mortality because of this, he didn’t show it. The sunlight was dappled, coming in through the window of the car, streaking across his hair. It picked out the red and light brown highlights, made his eyes look blue and gold rather than blue and silver like they’d been last night. He was humming a song under his breath. It took me until we pulled into the hospital’s parking lot to realize what it was: “Hallelujah.”
I thought about what I had to tell him later. After sleep’s cleansing effect, I knew I couldn’t stay at his apartment, pretending the lie I’d told wasn’t really a lie at all. I couldn’t just forget about it. I had to come clean. It didn’t seem right to tell him before Pierce’s death was official news, and as we walked into the hospital building, I realized it didn’t seem right to tell him after either.
It was then that it came to me, as we took the elevators down to the basement: There really was no good time to tell someone you’d been lying to them since you first met.
We walked into the TIDD group meeting. Zee and Carson were sitting in their usual spots in the circle. There was someone new across from Zee. When I walked in, she turned around. It was Linda Adams, the volunteer administrator.
I stopped in the doorway. Drew continued on, and because we were holding hands, our arms stretched out, a lifeline between the two of us. He turned to look at me, a question in his eyes.
“You might as well come in,” Zee said, staring straight at me. “Cat’s out of the bag.”
Linda stood when she saw me, her face grim and expression tight, as if she had her hands on either sides of her face, pulling the skin. “Saylor. Come in, sit.” She gestured to the chair next to hers.
“What’s going on?” Drew looked from me to Linda and to Zee. “Is this about Pierce?”
I walked forward, letting my hand drop from his.
This wasn’t about Pierce at all. This was a setup to catch me. My heart raced, my cheeks flushed, and I could feel myself begin to sweat under my jacket. But if my body was going a hundred miles an hour, my brain was strangely detached, as if it was watching all this happen to someone else.
I sat in the chair next to Linda Adams, staring out the half window at the parking lot above us, cars driving by every so often without even being aware that we were down there like moles, watching their movements.
Drew sat next to me, ignoring his usual spot. “What’s going on?” he asked again. He was confused and angry; I could tell he thought that this was all a misunderstanding he could make go away, just as soon as somebody told him what the fuck was going on.
I turned to him, shook my head a little. Then I took off my jacket, folded it neatly in my lap and waited. My brain floated in the space in my skull, not really engaging.
Linda Adams cleared her throat. “Well. This is… this is going to be difficult.” In spite of the grim look on her face, her voice was apologetic, as if she was expecting an onslaught of abuse to be hurled at her. Or maybe she was afraid the hospital would be sued.
“No, I think it’s really easy, actually,” Zee said, glaring at me. She was wearing her red pigtail wig again, her arms crossed against her bony chest. Her breathing was labored under the weight of her anger. “Saylor made great big fools out of all of us.”
I closed my eyes for a brief second, then opened them again. I wanted to take this all in. To jar my brain into thinking.
“Wait a minute,” Drew said. “She hasn’t done—”
“You don’t know what the hell we’re talking about,” Zee said, dismissively.
“Well then, why doesn’t somebody fucking tell me?” Drew spat back.
Carson shook his head. “I think something needs to be done about this.”
Linda held up her hands. “Maybe we should let Saylor explain,” she said. To me: “I haven’t disclosed anything to them about you. It would violate HIPAA regulations. But I think it’s best if you told them as much as you’re comfortable with, given what’s happened here.”
The others fell quiet and stared at me. I felt Drew looking at me. His hand reached for mine, but I shook my head again. He put it back in his lap.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and my voice had that weird underwater quality again, distant and echoing. “I lied to all of you.” I turned and looked at Drew. “I’m sorry.”
“Lied?” He pushed a hand through his hair, and I noticed it was trembling. “What… what are you talking about?”
A tear slipped out, streaked down my cheek. I didn’t even realize I was sad. I just felt so very numb. “I don’t have MS,” I said, looking out the window again. A blue Hummer drove by, leaving a trail of thick exhaust. “At least, not when you mean MS to be multiple sclerosis. I was supposed to volunteer here, in the hospital, helping set groups up and break them down when they were done meeting. The day I met you”—I looked at Drew, his eyes wide, staring at me like he didn’t understand why I was blathering this nonsense—“I was just sitting there, reading a book on multiple sclerosis. You assumed I was part of the TIDD group, and… I let you. And then I played along. I let you all believe I was just as sick as the rest of you.”
“Why?” Drew asked, the question slipping like a mournful song into the room, into my ear.
I wanted to stand up, walk out, save myself. But I forced myself to say the words. “I have Munchausen syndrome. That means I… I make myself sick for attention.” I took a deep breath, my lungs filling up with what felt like hot, fiery air. I wanted it to incinerate me. “I felt included for the first time in my life.” Another tear streaked down my cheek, and then another and another. “I felt like I belonged here. I started to care about you guys.”
Zee laughed, a forced, mirthless bark. “Right. You started to care about us. You wanted our friendship. It had nothing to do with the fact that we’re all dying. That you love being sick so much you wanted to see up close what that looks like.”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” I looked at her, my voice breaking. I wanted to be honest, I had to. Now was the time for candor. Clearing my throat, I began again. “I’ll admit that at first, it… it was interesting.” Carson looked like he wanted to punch me, his hands tightening around the handles of his wheelchair. “I admit that, okay? But really quickly, it became so much more than that.” I turned to Drew again. “You became so much more than just your disease. All of you.”
“Well, that’s mighty fucking big of you.” Zee shook her head incredulously.
Drew was staring at me wide-eyed, as if his brain wouldn’t let him be in the moment either. I could hear my heart cracking inside.
Linda cleared her throat again. “Zee and Carson tell me she hasn’t asked them for money or taken anything from them. Drew, I’m going to have to ask you the same question. Has Saylor taken monetary advantage of you?”
I wanted to die. I wanted the sedan that was driving down the parking lot to sail through the half window of the basement somehow and plow right into me. Just create nothingness where I was before.
“No.” Drew’s voice was hollowed out, like a pumpkin at Halloween. His hands were balled in his lap now, and he was looking down at them.
“And Pierce?” Linda looked at me.
“No,” I whispered. “It wasn’t like that. I promise. I’d never have done that.”
“Yeah, well forgive us if we don’t trust you right now,” Carson said. “I can’t believe this.”
“I just want to know one thing,” Zee said. “When you took me wig shopping that day? Were you just laughing at me the whole time in your head?”
I shook my head, tears falling fast, dripping down onto the jacket I held in my lap. They started to pool on the shiny black surface. “No.”
She kept her arms crossed and looked away, as if she couldn’t believe me.
I stood up and turned to Linda Adams. “I have to go.”
She stood up, too. “I do need to speak with you quickly.” She turned to the others. “I’ll be right back, and we’ll talk more about this.”
Then she followed me outside to the hallway.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell Dr. Stone about this,” she said. “And you won’t be allowed to volunteer here anymore. I’m sure you understand.”
I nodded.
“You’ll have to bring back your badge.”
Did they think I might try stealing in later, just try to pick up where I left off? I realized then that I had no right to say anything. They were justified in thinking whatever they wanted about me.
“Okay,” I said. Then, as an afterthought: “How did you find out?”
“I saw you at Pierce’s place last night. I know his mother. We’re old friends.”
I nodded. And then I began to walk away.
Chapter Forty-Nine
When I got home, I went straight upstairs. I sat on my bed, staring at the pink-and-gold-striped wallpaper on my walls. It was nearly nineteen years old, hung when my parents had found out they were having a girl. But it looked bright and new, festive. I wondered how my mother managed to do that—keep this house still and fresh, as if it were zippered up in some time-defying plastic case that was invisible to the human eye.
Someone knocked on the front door downstairs. I heard a shuffling, then my mother opening it. I hadn’t even realized she was home. I sat there, just absorbing the sounds, letting the waves travel into my ear, bounce off my eardrum, and recede. I didn’t move. There didn’t feel like there was a point to anything anymore.
“Saylor.”
I jumped. Turned. It was Drew.
He limped forward. “Mind if I sit down?” He motioned to the chair at my desk.
I shook my head, so he took a seat, stretching his legs out in front of him, holding the curved neck of the cane in his lap with both hands. We stared at each other.
“Tell me it’s not true.” His voice was soft, almost childlike. “If you say it’s not true I’ll believe you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, but then forced myself to open them and look at him again. “I wish I could.”
“Why?” His mouth barely moved. It was like he was a statue, like maybe his brain was having trouble coming
to terms with this new reality, too. It was like having woken up after the sweetest dream to look around at your life. You realize just how flat the colors really are in this world, just how much effort it actually takes to be happy. You realize you’re not as lucky as you’d thought after all.
I shook my head, opened my mouth. But nothing came out. Why did I do it? Because I’d felt like I’d belonged, like I said at the TIDD group. But to be completely honest, it was so much more than that.
Falling in love with Drew? It was like peeling off cold, wet socks and putting your feet on a warm floor. Why would you willingly stuff your feet back into those limp, wretched socks?
It was because he made me feel things. Drew made me feel like there were parts of me worth saving. That maybe there might be people out there who’d love me for being me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you…” His voice sounded like it might crack, so he paused for a moment before continuing. “Linda said she thought you joined the group because you wanted to be identified as a patient, as someone who had an illness that was serious and worthy of attention. She said that’s just part of your… your other disease.” He took a deep breath. “Is that true? Was that… was that all it was?”
“That’s what it was at first.” I clenched my fists in my lap, pressed my fingernails into my flesh, felt them sink in. “I did like that you guys thought I was sick. When I got sick that day at Zee’s house?” I thought back to the fever, the vomiting, how Drew had brought me home and sat in bed with me. “That’s what I lived for every day, Drew. That’s the sort of thing I’ve spent my entire childhood and my little sliver of adulthood chasing.”
He closed his eyes and nodded, a resigned sort of acceptance on his face.
“But then,” I continued, watching him, willing him to open his eyes, to see the truth on my face now. “But then, I fell in love with you. I fell in love with you, and that’s the truth. I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I swear I’m being honest. You’re the reason I came out of this—this fucking shell I live in and began to engage with the world. I began to care about something other than my own pathetic existence.” I got up off the bed and rummaged in my nightstand drawer till I found the syringe, from which I’d tossed the needle a few days ago. “See this?” I stepped closer to him, holding it up. “This was my best friend till I met you, till I fell in love with you. It’s how I made those abscesses on my chest.”
