Drowning Is Inevitable (19 page)

He whispered, “I love you, I love you,” into my ear, his breath hot, his fingers gripping my hips.

He loved me. I opened my mouth, but he sealed his lips over mine, making me swallow my words, so I showed him with my body.

Late in the night Max turned on his side and curled me deep into him. Every part of him was touching every part of me. We were so connected that it was hard to imagine a space without him. I'd read stories of people waking in the night to rub aching legs that were no longer there, lingering ghost sensations. That's how I would feel without him. No matter how far away I went, I'd always feel him.

“I know I'm supposed to step aside and let you leave,” he said. “I said that's what I'd do. But how?” he asked. “How do I do that?” He was whispering now.

“I don't know,” I said.

His fingers drew circles on my stomach. “Won't you be a little sad?”

“It's gonna break my heart.”

“Good,” he said. He was quiet for a long time. “You love him more than me.”

I shook my head. “Just longer.”

He held me tighter to him, then buried his face in my neck and hummed, a thing he did when he was sleepy. For the first time that night, I was scared, scared the dreams to come wouldn't be sweet, and scared his arms weren't strong enough to keep me still. All day I'd feared sleep, worried my subconscious would pull me back into the street like it had the night before and my body would head home.

As if sensing my unease, he said, “Trust me,” and I did.

M
y eyes opened to a still sleeping Max, his face turned to mine. He looked younger in his sleep, his tanned skin contrasting with the white of the sheets. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him. I wanted to trace his face like I did Jamie's when we were little, to help me memorize him, but I was scared I'd wake him.

I wasn't sure how long we'd slept, but it felt late. He opened his eyes, and for a time we stared at each other.

“I didn't want to leave without saying it,” I said. “I'm sorry if you think that's mean.”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I'm glad you said it. I've been in love with you since freshman year, so it feels good to hear you say it.”

“You didn't speak one word to me freshman year.”

Still not looking at me, he said, “I was scared of you. When we were in Spanish class, you could conjugate your verbs better than anybody else. It was intimidating.”

“Shut up.” I pushed his shoulder.

He flipped over and came to rest on top of me.

“I love you,” I said.

“Will you say it in Spanish?”

“You're so stupid.”

He nodded.

Getting serious, I asked him, “Will you take care of yourself? Will you stop drinking again?”

“Will you stay with me to make sure?”

“No,” I said.

“Then, no.”

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Maggie's face popped in.

“My mom's here,” she said.

Vicky wasn't supposed to meet us until later. We got dressed and met them in the living room. Vicky was sitting on the couch next to Jamie. She looked nervous.

“Hey,” she said. “Louis wants to meet early. He's got something going on tonight, and he won't have time to get your passports ready. But he said he could do it now, if you could come now.” She looked at all of us but Maggie.

I looked at Max, who was staring holes into Vicky. I knew he didn't trust her, but what choice did we have?

“Where are we meeting him?” I asked.

“He has an apartment on Pitt Street, near Audubon Park.”

“Let me grab my bag.” I went back into the bedroom and pulled my backpack from beneath the bed. When I turned to leave the room, Jamie was standing in the doorway.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I nodded.

“And you're sure? After this, it'll just be you and me.”

“Most of my life it was just you and me,” I said. “You're my family.”

“And you're mine.”

“Are you ready to go to Greece?” I asked.

“I'm all packed,” he said.

The sun was shining brightly, the glint of it bouncing off street signs and highlighting the holes between the leaves on the trees. We walked down the sidewalk, Vicky leading the way to the trolley stop. Once we were on the trolley, Maggie sat next to her, surprising Vicky and me.

Maggie looked at her mom, opened her mouth, and then closed it. After letting out a loud breath, she said, “Thank you for helping us. Things are shit between us, but I really appreciate you hooking us up with Louis.”

Maggie looked like it had been physically painful to admit that, and Vicky looked like she was about to cry.

“Don't thank me,” Vicky said, her voice thick. She stood and walked to the front of the trolley, reaching up to grab a hand strap. She didn't look back at us.

I sat down in Vicky's vacant seat. Maggie shrugged and looked out the bus window.

We got off at our stop, a few blocks from the park. It was so quiet. There were no cars in the street. That should've been my first clue that something was really wrong.

We were almost at Pitt Street when Vicky slowed her steps in front of us.

She turned to face us. There were tears in her eyes. “We need to turn around,” she said.

“What?” I asked. “No, the street's up that way.” I pointed in the direction we were headed.

She put her hands on my chest and pushed me back, forcing me backward.

“No, we need to turn around,” she said again, her voice louder.

“Why?” Maggie asked. “What's going on?”

Vicky looked at Maggie. “I'm so sorry, baby girl.”

I immediately looked around us. There was no one on the street, no cars, no people. Where were the people?

“What did you do?” Maggie asked.

“Y'all need to run,” she said. She kept pushing me back. “I'm so sorry, Maggie.”

“Why? What did you do?” Maggie asked again.

Vicky started sweating, her words coming out in a stammer. “I—I owe Louis money. A lot of money. He was gonna subtract a thousand from what I owe for bringing him your business. But then he checked y'all out, to see if he could find out why you needed the passports. He found out about everything.” She chewed her lip and tears spilled down her face. “There's a reward for any information that leads to your arrest. It's worth a lot more than I owe him. He was gonna wipe my debt clean.”

We couldn't speak. The air had been knocked right out of us.

“You sold us out?” Maggie asked. “Of course you did.”

“I'm sorry,” Vicky said. “The cops are waiting up ahead, a swarm of them.” She looked at Jamie. “They think you're dangerous. Y'all need to run.”

We took several steps backward but didn't turn away from her.

Vicky reached out and grabbed Maggie's hand. “I'm so sorry,” she cried.

And she was, I could tell. We couldn't speak. I couldn't believe what she'd done. Maggie's mouth hung open. There was no time for anything but to turn and run.

So we did. We were sucked into a vacuum as we ran, no noise but the sound of our feet pounding hard against the concrete sidewalk and our loud breathing. I didn't know where we were going. We made it a couple of blocks before we saw two policemen standing next to their vehicle. We skidded to a stop and turned and ran back in the direction we came from.

“Hey! Stop!” one of the policemen yelled.

Max took a right down a side street and we followed. He reached out and grabbed me.

“Me and Maggie will try to lead them this way,” he huffed, pointing to a side street off the alley. “Y'all go that way.” He squeezed my hand. “Go!”

This wasn't how we were supposed to say goodbye. I hesitated. His lips crashed to mine for one brief moment. Then, with panic in his eyes, he yelled again, “Go!”

We turned and ran, Max's last-time kiss still warm on my lips.

My chest was on fire, but we ran. All of a sudden a man stepped out from the alley, and we crashed into him so hard that I saw stars. He grabbed me hard and wrenched me to him, turning me around so my back was against his chest. I felt something sharp poke me in the side: a knife.

I strained to look up at him. It was Mark, the drug dealer.

“I thought y'all were gonna get away from me.” He was breathing hard, his chest heaving against my back. He squeezed my arm. “You're fast.”

Jamie was standing in front of us. He looked from the man's knife to me and back. His eyes were wild.

“Louis was worried Vicky might change her mind, that she wouldn't be able to see through selling out her own daughter,” Mark said. “Turns out he was right. I've been following y'all.”

He squeezed my arm so tight I whimpered. Jamie's eyes went wide.

“The three of us are gonna walk over to Louis's apartment, and y'all are going to jail,” Mark continued. “And then me and Louis are gonna split a big, fat check.”

“No,” I said.

He squeezed my arm again. “I really don't care what you do, but
he's
coming with me.” He gestured with his head toward Jamie. “He's worth a lot of money.”

He pushed the knife harder against my side. Jamie's eyes were glued to the blade.

“Do y'all understand?” Mark asked.

“Don't hurt her,” Jamie said.

“I won't, if you come with me.”

“Jamie, don't,” I said.

“I'll go with you,” Jamie said. “Just don't hurt her.”

“No, Jamie. Run!” He had to get away. We still had Beth's money in my bag, and I threw it at him. “Take the money. Run! Please.” My voice broke. “Please run. Go! He won't really hurt me.”

Mark took the knife from my side and put it to my throat, the metal biting the skin. I felt something wet. I was bleeding.

“Yes,” he said. “I will.”

Jamie's eyes locked with mine. I kept pleading with him to run, but it was useless. The boy who had always saved me wouldn't think twice about this sacrifice. He reached for my hand and squeezed. In his eyes were goodbyes.

“Jamie,” I whispered.

“Shh,” he said. “It's alright.” He handed me my bag as Mark grabbed his elbow. Jamie traded places with me, and I was free.

“Let's go turn you in,” Mark said.

They started walking away from me, and I watched them as they went, the space between us growing by the second. It was amazing how fast everything had fallen apart. But then Jamie elbowed Mark in the side, hard, sending him off-balance. I watched in disbelief as Jamie broke away and ran back to me, dragging me with him as we took off again. For a second I felt relief that we were safe from Mark, but then he was on us again, spinning Jamie around by his shoulder. Jamie pushed him, knocking him back, but Mark lunged, grabbing for Jamie's arm. I threw myself at Mark's back, pulling his hair and punching—anything to get him to release Jamie. I yanked his hair as hard as I could, and he howled.

“You stupid bitch!”

He turned and shoved me, hard. Jamie and Mark resumed their struggle, and then all at once Mark had his knife against Jamie's side.

“No!” I screamed.

Mark's breathing was heavy, his eyes full of rage. I'd never seen such rage. “You know what?” he said. “I've had enough of this. The odds of Louis sharing with me aren't good. I'll just take what's in the bag.”

He shoved Jamie away and grabbed my backpack from the ground. He turned away from us, but then wheeled back.

“This is for my trouble.”

He came at me, thrusting the knife, but Jamie was too fast for him. Jamie pushed me out of the way. I saw the knife as it went into him, and I felt it, like I was the one who'd been stabbed, my hand going to my own stomach. I screamed as Mark jerked the knife up, as the knife moved through Jamie, as Mark pulled the knife out and smiled. He smiled.

I heard more yelling and looked up to see a policeman running down the alley toward us, his boots beating on the cobblestone, his hand on his gun.

“Drop the weapon! Do it now!”

Instead of doing what he was told, Mark grabbed Jamie's shoulders, and the two of them began swaying back and forth, like they were dancing. The look in Mark's eyes said he couldn't believe he'd been caught.

“I said drop the weapon!” He said it like if he was just firm enough, Mark would straighten right up and obey. He didn't know it was too late.

The cop was on us all at once, cutting in between Mark and Jamie for his own dance. Jamie and I went one way, the two of them the other. There was shouting and chaos, and I couldn't make out who was yelling what, but when Jamie turned around to face me, his hands grabbing mine, everything slowed down. Swaying back and forth, now chest to chest, we slipped in between the spaces time could measure, our movements almost waltzlike. I felt wetness and warmth at my middle—Jamie's blood—and it made me press harder into him, hoping my body could heal him, seal him shut. We somehow made it out to the sidewalk, and Jamie leaned me back, or maybe he was falling. Either way, it was one last dip leading down to the street and our dance was done.

Jamie slid to the side of me and lay out flat on the sidewalk, his face to the sky. I heard my own breathing as I leaned over him. My hands went to his stomach, trying to keep the blood inside his body where it was leaking out, slow and warm. The look of it spreading out on the sidewalk reminded me of his dad's blood on their kitchen floor, and I shook my head frantically, not ready for Jamie's debt to be collected.

“No, Jamie. No,” I said. When I looked at his face, it was sad, and I knew the sorrow wasn't for him but for me.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“I'm sorry, too,” I whispered.

I wanted to say more, but my voice left, leaving me with an open mouth and no words. Jamie nodded, like he understood that, too. I kept my hands firmly in their spot, hoping the pressure could slow the bleeding, or that the hole wouldn't be there as long as it was covered.

The policeman's voice startled me. He wasn't speaking to me but into a handheld radio. I didn't hear exactly what he was saying, but I figured it out. Moments later I heard sirens in the distance, loud and alarming. Vicky's drug dealer was crumpled next to a bench across the street. He'd been handcuffed.

Above the sound of the sirens and my own loud breathing, I heard Maggie, her voice traveling to where I was, singing to me that she was coming. I looked up and saw her with Max. They were standing at the end of the street. At the sight of them, my vision blurred. It was safe to cry. Maggie ran toward us, and Max followed.