The Art of Losing(46)

A flash of rage burned through me. “Are you kidding me?” I yelled. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

He winced and started to backtrack. “No! I just wish you would come out with me more. Can you blame me for wanting to be with you all the time?”

He was good, I’d give him that.

“I don’t want to look at you,” I said. I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. “You should leave.”

I should have screamed at him. I should have made a huge scene out there on the lawn. I should have dumped him right then.

But I didn’t want to break up. I was in love, but more than that, I didn’t want to go back to the way my life was before him. Before I had plans on the weekend—even if I didn’t always go through with them. Before I had someone to tell me I was beautiful. The way Mike looked at me was intoxicating, like I was someone worth looking at.

But that didn’t change the way the hurt had started to burrow a hole in my chest. Or how that hole widened when I looked at him.

He nodded and stood up, and we awkwardly stood around for a minute, unsure how to end this.

“I love you,” he said again. And then he got in his car and drove away.





Chapter Twelve



Over the next few days, I worked several more shifts and slept at Cassidy’s after each one. Her house felt so normal—full of noise and the smells of dinner cooking—it was the ideal escape from my empty, silent house.

When I finally stopped by the hospital, the nurses greeted me like it had been weeks since I’d been there, not a few days. Mom and Audrey were working with the hospital’s speech therapist, but I hesitated in the hall. I could hear Audrey struggling with certain sounds. I watched through the doorway as the therapist held up flashcards and Audrey tried to remember and pronounce each word.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Watching her struggle was too painful. I pasted a big, fake smile on my face and cleared my throat. I felt like I was doing her a favor when I interrupted.

Audrey’s face broke into a lopsided smile—a genuine one.

“Hi, Harley,” she said slowly.

“Good work, honey,” Mom said, as if she were talking to Floyd.

I couldn’t help cringing. Luckily, Mom didn’t notice.

“Hey, Audy. I just stopped by to bring you some clean clothes.” I pulled her favorite sweatpants and a hoodie out of my bag, along with a few T-shirts. “Hope you don’t mind that I went into your room.”

Audrey looked relieved. Mom had bought her half a dozen new nightgowns to replace the gowns the hospital provided. Audrey had been hooked up to a catheter for a month, so the open bottom was necessary. But they were supposedly going to take out the catheter that afternoon, provided she could manage getting into a wheelchair and into the bathroom, or at least raise herself up enough to use a bedpan. No wonder this was the happiest I’d seen her. Not just about the catheter, but because the floral flannel nightgowns Mom had bought made her look about ten years old.

“I have to get to work,” I said. “Fingers crossed you get to pee on your own today!”

Audrey grinned. The speech therapist stifled a laugh. Mom, on the other hand, looked annoyed. She followed me out to the hallway.

“Harley, this job at the coffee shop is taking up a lot of your time,” she said. “I’ve barely seen you this last week.”

“Mom, you told me to get a summer job, remember?” I said. I leaned against the wall and examined my fingernails so I wouldn’t have to look at her. I was avoiding the hospital, and Audrey, and she knew it.

“Yes, but I wanted you to have something more flexible. Your sister is being moved to rehab soon. We’ll all need to be there to help her and support her so that she can come home.”

Steeling myself, I looked up. “She’s stronger than you think. She’ll be okay if I’m not there to watch her every minute.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she might want to take care of herself again!” I said. My voice was louder than I intended. “That she might want that more than we know.”

Mom blinked, as if I’d spoken to her in a foreign language. “I just don’t understand,” she said, reaching out for me. I shifted away from her hands. “You were here every day while she was unconscious, but now that she’s awake, you can barely spend more than five minutes with her.”

I tried to breathe past the knot forming in my chest. “I’m just busy, Mom.” I didn’t add the next thought, which was, At least I didn’t run for a bottle of whiskey.

She eyed me wearily, but she knew my stubbornness better than anyone. Pushing wasn’t going to help.

“Fine,” she said. “But come right home tonight. No sleeping at Cassidy’s again.”

I sighed but nodded. Then I leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Pass that on to Audy for me,” I said.

I was intently focused on the carafe I was wiping down when someone cleared his throat. I looked up into the wide, dark eyes of Ryan Carter, Mike’s best friend. Weird: I’d spent a large chunk of the last two years with this guy, but I hadn’t thought of him once since the accident. Maybe it was easier to break up with Mike—and his world—than I’d ever anticipated.