He Made Me Stay
Page 3
I can’t imagine wanting to do something but being physically unable. I’ve always taken my health for granted. Julian did too.
“What about you?” he asks. “What’s your future?”
A cold sense of dread washes over me. I wasn’t supposed to make it to lunch, much less ten years from now. Sure, once upon a time, I had dreams, but they turned into nightmares when I lost my brother. Then, they faded into nothing. A black void where my life ahead of me lies.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes narrow, unpeeling me layer by layer. “Everyone knows what they love. I love mysteries and science and the great unknown. I want to explore and learn. When you were a little kid, what did you tell everyone you wanted to be when you grew up?”
Julian wanted to be a policeman.
It was the only time we didn’t want to do things together. The thought of driving around town pulling people over was boring to me.
“A music teacher,” I admit, heat flooding to my neck and cheeks.
“You like music?” His green eyes light up and his teeth glint behind his smile.
“I love it.”
“So you want to teach it?”
“Back then I did. I like learning about it. Kind of like you and space, I guess. I like understanding the notes and beats. Reading beyond the lyrics. Seeing poetry in musical notes and bars. It’s kind of like science, I suppose. I’m interested in the mechanics of it.”
“Dr. Music. I like it.”
Now that he has me talking, the old me rises to the surface, eager to share something about my former self. “I have a crush on Trent Reznor. You know him?”
He cackles. “Yeah, we go way back.”
“Asshole,” I grumble, but not at all annoyed because the nerdy boy is quite beautiful to look at.
“I like his music, so yeah, I know him.”
“He’s a genius,” I explain, sitting up as familiar excitement burns through my veins. “He hears notes and makes sense of them like a scientist would data. He mixes formulas and tests the limits of sound. Every instrument is a tool for him to expand his learning. So he’s an artist, but he’s obsessed with the science of it. And that’s not even touching his lyrics.”
It makes me want to invite Kit over so he can meet my dad. I’d watched Dad’s love for music since before I could remember and was drawn to it, finding that love myself. I can almost see it. Kit in our living room as Dad plays chords on his guitar, chatting with us about the best albums of all time while Mom hovers, a smile on her lips.
My chest aches.
In the past, the other person was always Julian. Julian teasing Dad about his love for Nickelback just to get a rise out of him. Mom chiming in about Garth Brooks or Alan Jackson, making Dad and I both cringe.
The memories are cruel and the illusion of a future like them is even crueler.
Tomorrow won’t come.
All I have is today.
“You’re really passionate about it,” Kit says, “but it also makes you sad. Because of Julian?”
The name of my brother on his lips is jarring. Instant tears prickle at my eyes. I freeze, panicked by the onslaught of grief that attacks me from all directions. Emotions I’d been carefully shoving down into the dark holes of who I am come raging to the surface. I can’t hide them or hide from them. All I can do is remain still as they obliterate me.
Everything in the lunchroom blurs as the tears that flooded my summer come rushing back. I can’t do this. I can’t be here. I should have left already. My hand shoves down into my pocket and I grip the pill bottle. It rattles in my hand as my entire body shakes. The sourness in my stomach burns up my esophagus.
I want to go home.
I want to crawl into my twin bed and stare at the other twin bed, pretending my twin was still alive.
Fuck, I miss him so much.
An arm wraps around me, startling me. A curly-headed boy leans his head on my shoulder, providing warmth to my chilled, aching soul. I hate that a tear slips out where everyone can see.
No one looks.
My grief makes them feel awkward.
I’ve been so alone with it.
Until now.
“Do you take medicine?” Kit asks, his voice soft and soothing.
Another tear leaks out as I nod.
“Have you taken it today?” His fingers run up and down my arm. When I shake my head, he says, “Don’t you think you should?”
I was supposed to take them all.
Not one.
Thirty.
“I guess,” I choke out.
“Do it then.” His tone is firm, urging me on.
Shakily, I pull it out and the pills rattle. Kit’s fingers brush over mine as he takes it from me. Because he’s a nosy stalker, he reads the label. Then, he takes his arm from around me to open it. He hands me one.
Just one.
“Take your medicine,” he instructs. “And then tell me your favorite Nine Inch Nails album.”
I swallow down the pill, thoughts of music already chasing the dark sadness away for the moment. He hands me back the closed bottle and turns his head to look at me.
Too close, Kit.
Too close.
This close, I want to pull him to me and kiss him. In front of everyone. In front of all the kids who turn a blind eye to the boy who’s shattered beyond repair and has one foot out the door of this life. The same kids I grew up with going to birthday parties and school dances. Kids I had sleepovers with and camping trips.
I’m something they don’t understand now.
Something they fear.
Rather than loving me by default because of Julian, they’ve forgotten all about his steady shadow. I’m a figment to them. Barely existing. Casper, not Jasper.
Kit reaches up with his thumb, swiping away the tear that still clings to my jaw. He wipes it on my T-shirt, a teasing grin on his face. His touch warms and soothes me. I absolutely crave it.
The bell rings, breaking our spell. I’m not discouraged, though, because I know the very next class Kit will be there too. And the ones following after. After school, he’ll walk with me to my car and allow me to take him home. It’s like he’s replacing the dead, stagnant air around me with sunshine and apples.
For my last day on Earth, he’s making it pretty spectacular.
Because of him, I’ll get to have meatloaf. I’ll have another evening hanging out with Dad as we discuss music. I’ll feel the twins moving in Mom’s stomach.
I want to thank him, but he’s leaving his seat to deposit the trash from our lunch. I’d learned a lot about his disease in a short time. It’s like he has so much to say and has to talk fast in order to be able to say it all.
Kit waits for me, his hand outstretched. I absolutely need his touch. Gratefully, I grasp onto his hand as he leads me to our next class. Since I know where we’re going, I guide him with hand gestures along the way. Students stare at us, intrigued by our handholding, but no one makes fun of us.
Everyone at Mountain Grand High knows I’m gay.
I’ve dated some guys over the years whom I have classes with.
Kit already announced to the class his sexuality.
I guess it’s not a surprise to our peers, though it’s a surprise to me how taken I am with Kit.
When we near our class, he sees one of the cheerleaders, Harloe, and waves. She gives me a confused look before waving back at him.
“Is your sister okay, Harloe?” he asks, stopping in front of her.
Her thick, mascara painted lashes flutter hard, a tiny frown tugging at the normally smiling cheerleader’s face. “She’s better. How did you know about my sister?”
“Stalker, remember?” her friend, Serena, whispers loudly. “Eric says he knows everything about everyone.”
Kit nods rapidly, answering the not-so-quiet friend, his hair moving wildly at the action. “I do,” he agrees. “I studied up on everyone the moment I knew we were moving here. Including you, Serena.”
Harloe smirks. “I bet you found all kinds of dirt on everyone.”
“Mostly good stuff,” he says. “Your sister idolizes you. I saw the picture you posted of the two of you jet skiing this summer.”
“That picture was…” Harloe’s eyes water. “It was before she went under.” Her bottom lip wobbles and she shoots me a devastated look. “She almost died.”
I feel the pain in her words. The horror and heartache. The relief. Sure, I lost my brother, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’m thankful her sister survived the accident. I’d seen the post a week ago, the weekend before school started, and felt gutted for her.
“But you saved her. All those years lifeguarding helped, huh?” Kit says, pride in his voice.
Serena hugs her, nodding rapidly. “She did. My bestie is a hero.”
My head hangs. I wish I could have been a hero just once for Julian. I didn’t go to the senior prom, though, and he was pronounced dead on the scene.
Harloe gives me a quick, awkward hug that startles me. “So sorry about Julian,” she whispers. “I never got a chance to tell you at the funeral and I didn’t want to bring it up in case it made you sad.”
I meet her gaze, swallowing down the emotion. “I don’t want to forget about him. Talking about him makes me sad, but not talking about him makes me sadder.”
Understanding flickers in her eyes. “I’m, uh, here for you if you need to talk.”
“Thanks,” I murmur and mean it.
“What did you learn about me?” Serena asks Kit. “Anything good?”
“You finally nailed the back full twist. That video was awesome!” Kit exclaims, holding up his hand for her to high-five him.
She squeals and smacks his hand. “You know how hard that was? I literally had to do five hundred crunches a day in order to get my abdominal muscles ready. Harloe still can’t do one yet.”
The girls tease each other, but they’re both smiling.
Kit does this.
He’s an infection.
Or, maybe he’s a cure.
Jasper
The rest of our classes go by quickly. I feel like my last day is going by too fast. Like Kit awarded me an extra twenty-four hours, but they’re depleting in rapid speed. By the time the last bell rings, I’m eager to get him in my car, all to myself.
Everyone is drawn to him.
He’s strange and loud and talkative and nosy, but they all like it.
They like him.
A small part of me is jealous. Like he was mine first. Now that school’s over, I can get him in my car and bask in his light, not having to share any part of him.
On the way out the door, Kit notices the football team practicing on the field.
“Wait for me,” he instructs before walking over to the edge of the field. He waves someone over, and I soon realize it’s Eric Davidson.
Several football players playfully smack Eric’s helmet, urging him to go see what it is Kit has to say. A pang shoots through me realizing Julian would have been right there with them. Eric is awkward as he walks up to Kit, towering over the smaller guy. Thankfully, no waves of hostility can be felt this time. Kit gestures for Eric to dip his head. He whispers something to Eric that has Eric’s eyes widening. Then, Kit pats his shoulder and then waves. To my surprise, Eric waves back.
“Ready, quark?” Kit asks when he approaches. “Mom won’t let me stall forever. Not on my first day. She’ll be expecting a full report.”
I nod, somewhat in a daze as I follow Kit. When he realizes I’m shuffling along, he grabs my hand and squeezes it. We make our way to my Tahoe. It used to be Mom’s, but with the twins coming, she wanted something newer. I remember this Tahoe from when I was little. She hauled us to all my music lessons and Julian to all his football practices in it. It makes me wonder what sort of things the twins will like.
I’ll miss out.
Regret hits me hard in the gut. I don’t want to miss out on those things.
“Cool car,” Kit says, whistling.
“It’s old.”
“Vintage,” he teases.
We climb in the vehicle and he starts babbling about a car show his dad took him to this summer. I’m more focused on the way his plump, strawberry lips move than the actual words coming out. They’re so captivating. Not bothering to turn on the car, I reach over and touch his hair. So soft. He rewards me with a smile that steals my breath.
“What did you say to Eric?” I ask, unable to look away from his mouth.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
My eyes fly to his. Tomorrow I have plans. “In first hour?”
“At lunch.”
I scowl, dropping my hand to turn the engine over. The car rattles to life, “Right Where It Belongs” by Nine Inch Nails blasting through the speakers. Rather than turning it down, I put the vehicle in drive, waiting for him to guide me.
He points each time I need to turn, and soon we’re pulling into the driveway of an older home off Main Street that’s been recently restored. It’s a really nice house, much nicer than our cookie-cutter one in the suburbs. A woman with bushy brown hair is watering a rosebush.
“Mom should have been a lawyer instead of a doctor,” Kit says, laughing. “She just gets inside your head. You’ll see.”
I frown at him. “Oh.” I certainly don’t want her in my head.
“She’ll ask you to stay for dinner. Come on. We have homework to do.”
I guess if I have to stay for lunch tomorrow to find out what he spoke to Eric about, then I’ll need to have my physics homework done. Who better to help me through it than Mr. Future Astronaut himself?
After shutting off the vehicle, I climb out. Kit bounces over to his mother, nearly knocking her over with a hug. She’s all smiles until she discovers me standing awkwardly by my Tahoe.
“Hello,” she calls out.
“Hey.” My greeting comes out in a grunt. “I’m Jasper.”
“Leesa,” she says, her brows furling.
I see what Kit means. Her green eyes are hard and probing as she approaches, as though she has the power to see inside me. It’s dark in there. She doesn’t belong.
Cold water hits my chest, making me gasp in shock. Her eyes are dancing with mischief as she lets go of the hose, dropping it to the grass. Kit is howling with laughter as I gape at her in disbelief.
“I thought you fell asleep,” Leesa says, an eyebrow arching. “Are you awake now?”
My shirt is drenched and I’m still reeling over the fact this woman sprayed me with a hose.
“I, uh, I…” I frown. “I’m all wet.”
“That won’t do,” she says. “Kit’ll find you a shirt to wear that’ll be appropriate for dinner.”
“I can’t. My mom made meatloaf,” I reply back. “It’s my favorite.”
And the last dinner my mother will cook me.
Her head tilts to the side as she studies me. “All right then. There are snacks in the kitchen. Kit needs to eat because—”
“He knows, Mom,” Kit groans. “He was there when I went low.”
“He showed me his middle finger,” I add.
She rolls her eyes and playfully swats at him. “That finger gets him in a lot of trouble.”
“Dad thinks it’s cool,” Kit argues.
Her eyes are once again locked on me. “How old are you?”
I flinch at her words, my gaze falling to my black Doc Martens. The reminder of my birthday at the end of the month hits me hard in the chest. “Uh, seventeen.”
“Hmph.” She doesn’t sound pleased by this.
He groans in exasperation. “Mom. Stop.”
“Behave, Kit,” she murmurs. “You’re the adult here.”
“Really?” he asks in a sardonic tone. “Sometimes I think you forget that.”
They both laugh, the tense mood gone. I chance a look up at her. H
er intense, probing stare is gone. Soft green eyes explore me in a concerned, motherly way.
“We’re going to get those snacks now,” Kit says. “We have a lot of homework, so leave us alone.”
“Do you hear how mean he is to me?” she teases. “I’m a frail old woman with a tender heart my oldest son likes abusing.”
“Dramatic,” Kit mouths to me, a grin on his lips.
“I’m off today and tomorrow. I’d love to meet your parents. Supper tomorrow night then, Jasper?” She beams at me, her smile every bit as radiant as her son’s.
“I, uh, don’t know. Mom’s pregnant and—”
“Oh, I’d love to meet her. Please, Jasper. I’m a great cook. Why don’t you write your mother’s name and number on the pad in the kitchen when you have a snack with Kit? I’ll call her to coordinate.”
“Uh, sure.”
Kit grabs my hand, linking our fingers together. I expect his mother to say something, but she picks her hose up to continue watering the garden. He walks us up the steps of the huge wraparound porch and stops to pet a fat, orange cat.
“Homeslice needs to go to fat kitty camp,” he tells me over his shoulder. “But Mom says he’s just fluffy.”
He stands up and then pushes through the front door. We’re met with chaos. Two kids are riding on their stomachs on skateboards while one attempts to play the piano. A young boy is eating apple slices while trying to do a puzzle at the coffee table. A man who resembles Kit but with a beard and glasses is staring at his laptop while sitting in a recliner.
“Snacks are in the kitchen,” his dad says without looking up.
“Oooh, Kit has a boyfriend,” one of the kids rolling by on a skateboard says.
“And you’re going to have a broken neck if you keep doing that,” Kit chides, narrowly missing his toes getting run over. “Dad, meet Jasper. Jasper, this is my dad, Tad.” He points to the puzzle boy. “That’s Wex.” He then points to the girl at the piano. “That’s Vesper.” His fingers waggle between the boy and girl on skateboards. “Those two are naughty mice Homeslice brought in.”