Gone, Gone, Gone(37)

They’re both speaking in these really quiet voices, but it doesn’t sound like they don’t want us to hear. They’re standing in the middle of our kitchen, after all. It sounds like they’re being gentle with each other.

Lio nods, looking down.

“We’re worried about you.”

He shakes his head.

“Do you want to call Adelle?” She takes out her cell phone. She must have his therapist’s number in her phone. I bet if I had a therapist, Todd would have her number. I don’t need to feel jealous right now.

He says, “No. Really, I’m okay.”

“All right.” She gives him a big hug. “Michelle’s okay too. We love you.”

He nods and watches her go all the way down the driveway until she gets into her car. His hand holds on to that bag so tight.

In my bathroom downstairs, he washes his face and brushes his teeth and changes into his own pajamas. He gives mine back, folded neatly. If they didn’t smell like smoke, I’d guess they were clean.

I feel like I’m on a sleepover back when I was a little kid, with a friend—usually Cody—and sometimes he’d get homesick in the middle of the night and have to be picked up. I remember praying before we went to sleep that he’d still be there when I woke up. It was sort of a toss-up, but I really hated when he left. And it meant there was always this anxiety hanging in the air before we went to sleep. Will he stay or won’t he?

I think I really, really want Lio to stay here, to make it through the night, for us to make it through the night, but I can already feel him slipping away. I think his sister coming was bad for him, because now his mind is back at that house and not here with me. And really there’s only room for one of us to be this distant, here, and the last thing I can do is hold on hard enough for both of us.

And we haven’t even closed our eyes. We haven’t even left for separate rooms. It’s barely ten.

He sits down on my bed and pets Sandwich.

To fill the silence, I say, “There’s no way we’re going to find all of them. It kills me. No matter how many we find, it’ll never be all. It’s never going to be how it was. There will never be as many.”

He says, “Maybe it can still be special even if it’s not as much.”

There’s something significant about this, and I don’t know what to do with it.

He clears his throat. “Your brother hates me.”

“He doesn’t. He’s just wary with people he doesn’t know. He was sort of trying you out. Like a dog. I’m not sure my dad liked you much, but he’s weird, ignore him. He’s a principal. Automatically predisposed against people with funny hair.” I sit down next to him. “You okay?”

He nods.

“It’s just that Todd’s protective of me. He just doesn’t want me to . . . you know. That again. With Cody. You okay?”

He nods again.

“I know you told Jasper you are. Are you really? Are you worried about . . . do you want to talk about the boy who got shot?”

He’s still alive. They found a tarot card by him. Death, of course. Even I have to admit that’s some scary shit. But he’s still alive.

He says, “Michelle’s safe now. It’s like lightning.”

“Definitely.”

He rubs his eyes.

Kremlin howls at my feet. I say, “Quiet, you. See, this is why you don’t want to sleep down here, Lio. They’ll all keep you awake. Good thing I don’t sleep.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I put my hand on top of his head because it feels right. Really, because it feels like he needs it. He’s shaking. “Of course.”

He’s just so little.

He says, very softly, “I wish we were alone in this room right now.”

Is that what he wanted to ask me? But that wasn’t even a question. I look at Kremlin, and at Sandwich batting at her tail. “Do you . . . want me to put them upstairs?”

“It wouldn’t help.” He plays with his fingers. “I wish my sister weren’t here.”

“What?”

“I wish she weren’t here in this room right now. With us. Or my brother. Or your parents. Or Cody.” I don’t like the way he says Cody’s name. I hate that I don’t like the way he says Cody’s name. “Or the sniper. I wish we were alone.”

I want to touch him more, but now I don’t think he wants it.

He looks up at me. “What are we doing, Craig?”

Fuck.

I say, “It’s just that I think it might be too soon for me.”

And then we have that conversation neither of us wants to have, because neither of us wants to believe the things I’m saying or to think that they are important, and he has had such a long day and he looks like he’s about to fall asleep, and I probably look like I’m about to cry, and we both want each other, I know it, and here we are sitting around telling each other why we can’t have each other and all I want to do is be an each other for once.

What does that even mean, “each other”? Each other what?

How is it that he’s been pissed on by the universe again and again and again and here he is, eyes blue and wide and right on mine, waiting for me, and he’s scared out of his mind by some sniper, telling me that he doesn’t care, that he wants to work through all of this with me? How can he do that, and here I am with one bad boyfriend, pulling my hands back into my sleeves and saying I won’t I won’t I won’t?