Hold My Breath(58)

“I’m going to scoop up the sheets and put them in a bag. I have a laundry service that’s going to pick everything up while we’re gone. I just need to have it all ready,” Tanya says, her voice wavering as she glides by Will, his eyes wide and his mouth firmly shut.

The moment she slips from our view, I step in front of him, my back shielding her from seeing or hearing anything should she come in.

“What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be helping her, but you’ve gone completely catatonic,” I say, and my words do nothing more than draw his eyes to mine. They’re still wide, and they’re still scared. I kneel down and touch his knee. The feel of him sends a jolt up my arm, and his eyes fall immediately to my touch, softening as his mouth relaxes, the hard line sloping on the ends toward his chin. His hand lands on top of mine, trapping me.

“I’m not sure I can do this.” His body shivers and his words come out choppy, almost as if he’s breaking a fever.

“Will, that woman is going to fall apart without you. You have to get over whatever the hell…” I stop midsentence, words from a minute before finally sinking in: how much he hated to fly.

“Oh God…” I say, sliding my hand out from under his, my chin coming up just as his is falling. I reach up, not even thinking, and my hands cup his face. He freezes. His eyes close and the weight of his head rests into my right palm. I run my fingers along his jaw on the left side.

“Is there something you can take?” I ask. His body shakes once, a short breath escaping him in a sad laugh. Right. One year sober.

“Will, Dylan’s up! Should we get his things out to the car first? I can get him in the small chair,” Tanya calls from the other end of the house. Will’s eyes rise to meet mine, and the sheer helplessness reflected in them seizes my chest, and I gasp once, tears threatening my eyes.

I breathe in deeply, letting my eyes fall closed for a moment while I search for courage. Not to do something my heart desperately wants to do, but to let go of the hate that’s keeping me from doing what’s right.

“Sounds good, Tanya. Will’s finishing up the dishes for you, so I’ll come in to help,” I holler back. My response snaps Will out of his haze, and he starts to stand and push away from me.

“No, no…I’m fine,” he says.

I ignore him and pull my phone from my pocket, searching for flights quickly.

“American? Southwest?” I ask.

His hands cover mine, but I fight him off this time, stepping back and holding one palm up while my thumb slides over the screen.

“Maddy, this…none of this, is your responsibility,” he says, shaking his head, and I stop with my thumb on the purchase button, looking him right in the eyes.

“It isn’t yours either,” I argue, my breath catching as it hits me. None of this—me, Evan, Tanya, Dylan, and all the damn ghosts—is Will’s responsibility. He chose to carry it. He inserted himself where a blank space was left, and he’s been holding worlds together for people when he had every right to walk away.

My thumb falls against my phone, and I hold it up, swallowing.

“I hope it was Southwest,” I whisper, a little stunned at the realization of what a mixture of spontaneity and panic can make someone do. “I am probably going to need to borrow some money, too. And…shit…clothes.”

Will moves to me swiftly, his hands reaching up but not sure where to touch. There’s the barrier between us that came the moment Evan’s story unraveled, but I feel like it shifted—just a little.

“Call them, Maddy. Cancel that. I’ll suck it up. I’ll be fine. It’s just a plane ride,” he says, but that fear is there still. I see it. “Please, Maddy. Don’t take this on.”

“If you see the big suitcase in the living room, just bring it to the first door on the right!” Tanya yells.

My eyes are locked on Will’s, a silent battle, each of us trying to save the other. But he doesn’t see what I see—a man whose soul is so tired that it may not have much fight left in it. My mouth opens to speak seconds before I actually do, and I wait in a sort of verbal limbo, convincing myself past those last few uncertainties.

“Got it!” I respond finally, stepping away from Will slowly, his eyes following my path.

I can feel Will behind me, but I push forward as if I’ve always been a part of this, as if I was supposed to show up here all along and make this trip with them. My hand grabs the handle of the only suitcase in the room, and I roll it along behind me, stopping at the door on the right. Will pauses a few feet short of the doorway, and I glance to see him standing with both of his arms stretched out, his palms flat on opposite hallway walls and his head low.

“That’s the one! Thanks, Maddy,” Tanya says, pulling my attention away from Will.

Inside the small room is a hospital bed with rails and monitoring devices, most of them shut off minus one that beeps periodically. A frail boy with brown hair and crystal-blue eyes struggles on the edge of the bed, his fingers curved awkwardly around one of the bedrails while his other arm hugs tightly around Tanya’s neck. His legs bend in such a way that I know walking is not possible, and as Tanya lifts him against her, struggling by herself to line him up with his chair, I can’t help but flash forward to a time when Dylan is twice this size.

“There,” Tanya breathes out, stretching her back and tugging out the band from her hair, refastening it to tuck away loose ends that Dylan pulled out when his fingers grabbed at her. “Step one of about sixty-eight-hundred,” she laughs.