All We Can Do Is Wait(61)

Jason wasn’t sure what to say next. He’d let it all pour out, telling Alexa everything, about him and Kyle, about how they’d been in love, or at least they’d said they were and it had felt that way. That he was supposed to see Kyle that night. That the accident was his fault. That he got drunk. That he could have saved Kyle, but he failed. He was out of words, so he stood there dumbly while Alexa reeled.

Finally, she ran her hands over her face and stared her brother in the eyes. “How could you not tell me? How could you do that to me, Jason?”

“I wanted to tell you . . .” Jason started, but Alexa cut him off.

“No you didn’t. That’s a lie. You had a year. You had more than a year. How could you do this? Oh my God, Jason. Oh my God. I’m such a fucking idiot. You must think I’m so stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Alexa.”

“Yes you do! And so did he. Oh my God, Kyle.”

“He didn’t think you were stupid!”

“No, you were right. I didn’t know him at all. I had no idea who he was. That whole time! That whole time, you two were sneaking off and . . . So who was I? Just a cover? So Kyle could come over for dinner and you guys could get stoned on the beach and be so in love together? Jesus Christ, Jason. This is so much worse. This is so much worse than anything I could have imagined. Here I am this whole year, this whole miserable year, thinking that I’m too sad, that I’m too needy, that I pushed you away because I was asking for too much. And the whole time, the real truth is . . . it wasn’t about me at all. It’s never really about me, is it? It’s always you. Somehow, it’s always you.”

Jason had never heard his sister talk like this. All Jason wanted then was to make Alexa feel better. He wanted to say the right thing. But he had no idea what that was. It all felt so much bigger than anything he knew how to handle.

Alexa turned away from Jason and paced across the room, trying to collect herself. But then she spun around, angry about something new. She strode back toward Jason. “I asked you.”

“What?”

“That summer. I asked you if you were seeing someone. I know I did. And you just straight-up lied to me. Kyle lied to me too. God. Do you realize how cruel that was? Do you know how lonely and tricked and just . . . tossed aside this makes me feel?”

“We would have told you, at some point . . .”

“Ha! At some point. Well, thank God that point has finally arrived, now that Kyle’s been dead for a year and Mom and Dad are probably about to join him.”

“Jesus, Alexa.”

“No. You don’t get to do that, act like I’m overreacting. Not about this.”

Jason just stood there, feeling utterly stuck. The more his sister said it out loud, the more he realized how mean it had been, to lie to Alexa like that for so long. But he couldn’t fix the lies, and he couldn’t take back what he’d admitted to her today, tarnishing her memory of Kyle in the process. He should have told her back then, but he should not have told her now. No matter which way he turned, Jason was met with his own fuck-ups, yet again.

“And now you’re disappearing,” Alexa said, shaking her head, looking at her brother, eyes wide with shock. “You’re getting that druggy look. Do you know you haven’t even said ‘sorry’ yet? Did it even occur to you to apologize to me? Or do I not deserve that, am I just some nobody to you?”

“I’m sorry!” Jason yelled, immediately feeling stupid for hoping that saying it might fix things. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, more sincerely, more pleadingly.

Alexa shook her head again. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this now. Today. This is surreal.” She threw up her hands in disbelief and walked to the other end of the room, collapsing into a chair, putting her head down, to cool off or cry. Jason watched after her, feeling like he might cry himself. Talking about Kyle like this, the definitiveness of his death, of his absence, made Jason ache all the more acutely. He turned and looked at Morgan, who was teary too.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “This was my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No.” Jason sighed. “It’s my fault. It’s always been my fault.”

Morgan wasn’t listening. “I shouldn’t even be here. I should have gone home. I just made things worse for you, and I shouldn’t even be here.” She looked over to the exit, clearly planning an escape of sorts.

“Of course you should be here,” Jason said. “You’re here for your dad.”

Morgan’s eyes darted to Jason, some strange mix of sadness and panic in them. “I was,” she said, her face suddenly crumpling. “But . . . not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s dead. My dad died this morning. Before any of you even got here.”





Chapter Sixteen


    Morgan



WHEN MORGAN’S MOTHER got sick, as Morgan’s dad called it, he did his best to shield Morgan from the worst of it, the late-night fights, the days and weeks she’d disappear without word, the lying and the bargaining and the manipulation. Of course, it was impossible to protect Morgan from all of it: She saw her mother fade away, replaced by some hungry, barely human thing, saw her father lose his grip on her, the change in his bearing, from hope to tired resignation to a determined drive to keep his daughter as apart from the ugliness as he could.