Without Merit(74)

I can’t speak. I don’t know what to say to him. I can’t reassure him because there isn’t anything reassuring about that story. And honestly, I’m embarrassed I didn’t know any of that. I see the headlines online and in the paper but I never understand any of it. It’s never directly affected me so I’ve never thought to even look into it.

He stopped tattooing but I don’t know if he’s finished, so I don’t move. “We moved to Syria when I was ten,” he says, his voice quieter. “My father is a surgeon and he and my mother opened a medical clinic there. But after living there for a year, when things started to get bad, my parents sent me back here to live with my grandparents until my father could get his visa to return home. My mother was due to give birth to my little sister so she couldn’t fly at the time. They told me it would just be three months. But right before they were due to fly home . . .”

His voice trails off. Since he’s no longer tattooing me, I spin the chair around to look at him. He’s sitting with his hands clasped between his knees, looking down. When he looks up at me, his eyes are red, but he’s holding his composure.

“Before they came home, communication just stopped. They went from calling me every day to complete silence. I haven’t heard from them in seven years.”

I cover my mouth in shock.

Sagan is sitting stoically, staring at his hands again. Both of my hands are pressed against my mouth in disbelief. I can’t believe this is his life.

This is why he answers the phone with such urgency, because he’s always hoping it will be news about his family. I can’t imagine suffering through seven years of not knowing.

“I feel like such an asshole,” I whisper. “My problems are nothing compared to what you’ve been going through . . .”

He looks up at me with completely dry eyes. I think that makes me the saddest, to know that he’s so used to his life that it doesn’t make him cry every second of the day.

He puts his hand on my chair and says, “You aren’t an asshole, Mer.” He turns me around. “Hold still. I’m almost finished.”

We sit in silence as he finishes up my tattoo. I can’t stop thinking about everything that’s happening with him. It has my stomach in knots. And I really do feel like an asshole. He read a letter I wrote, complaining about my entire family and our trivial issues. And he doesn’t even know if his family is alive.

“Done,” he whispers. He cleans it with something cold and then he begins to bandage it up.

“Wait,” I say, turning around. “I want to see it first.”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. I want you to keep the bandage on until Saturday.”

“Saturday? It’s only Thursday.”

“I want you to anticipate it a little longer,” he says with a smile. I like that he’s smiling after the heaviness of the conversation. Even if it is forced. “I’ll apply lotion every few hours until then.”

I like the idea of that, so I reluctantly agree. “At least tell me what it is.”

“You’ll see what it is on Saturday.” He starts cleaning up his mess. I stand up and roll the chair back to the desk. He walks his box of supplies to his closet.

As I watch him, I’m overcome by an overwhelming sense of compassion for him. For what he’s going through. I walk to him and slip my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest.

I just need to hug him after hearing all of that. And based on the way he wraps himself around me and accepts the hug without question, he must have needed it, too. We stand like this for an entire minute before he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Thanks for that,” he says, releasing me.

I nod. “Good night.”

He smiles appreciatively. “Good night, Merit.”





Chapter Fourteen





Are you excited about today?”

“Yes!” Moby yells from the hallway.

“How excited?”

“So excited!”

“How excited?” Utah says.

“The most excited!” Moby yells back.

Normally, that exchange would make me roll my eyes this early in the morning. But that was before last night, when I started to like Utah as a brother again.

My father still doesn’t know I dropped out of school, so I force myself out of bed. I brush my teeth, fix my hair, put on clothes and go through the same routine I go through almost every other morning. I would just tell him the truth, but I’m not so sure I want to deal with the aftermath right now. It feels like a lifetime has been crammed into the last few days.

I’ll give it another week before I tell him. Maybe two.

Or better yet, I’ll tell him I dropped out when he finally explains why my mother is taking placebo pills.

When I walk into the kitchen, Honor and Sagan are sitting next to each other at the table. She’s laughing at something he just said, which makes me a little relieved to see her smiling. Maybe she’ll stop being so mad at me now that I’ve made up with Utah.

Or maybe not.

As soon as she sees me, her smile disappears. She refocuses her attention on the smoothie in front of her, moving her straw around.

At least Sagan smiles at me. I smile back and feel ridiculously cheesy when I do.

“Merit, taste this,” Utah says. He shoves one of his smoothies in my face and tries to stick the straw in my mouth.