Falling Under (29 page)

Shawna shuts the door and then stops in the middle of the room, staring at Kylie and me. “A’ight, honey. If you
promise
me you’ll let Benjamin sleep, I’ll let you stay here for a few minutes.”

“Oz. My name is Oz.” I mumble it, more out of habit.
 

“I promise,” Kylie says to Shawna, then turns to me. “So you’re still going by Oz?”

I shrug, a weak lift of one shoulder. “It’s who I am. It’s the name I chose for myself a long, long time ago. I’m not Ben, or Benjamin. I’m Oz.”

Shawna is checking leads, the monitor, fiddling with various things. “You need something for the pain, sweetie?”

So much has been raging in my head and my heart that I’ve almost forgotten about the pain. “Yeah. It’s starting to catch up to me.” It’s not a lie. Aches ripple through me. My head pounds, and a thousand pinpricks hit my arm and leg.

She bustles out of the room, and as soon as she’s gone, Kylie lifts up, cradles my face in her soft, trembling hands, and kisses me, hard and deep and desperate. She kisses me with the frantic need of someone who thought she’d lost her one true love. I kiss her back, holding on to the back of her shirt with my good hand.
 

“God, Oz. I thought I’d lost you. Again. It hurt so bad. I was so afraid. I couldn’t live if I lost you. I can’t lose you again. Please, Oz. Promise me,
promise
me you’ll never leave me. Thinking you were dead, not knowing if you’d be okay, if you’d wake up, it was just…
hell
. It was hell. I love you, so, so, so much. Don’t ever leave me. Promise me, Oz. Promise me.”

I wrap my arm around her neck and hold her face against mine. We’re both trembling, shaking, and she’s crying, and yet a-fucking-gain I’m trying not to. “I promise you, baby. I promise. I’m yours, Kylie. I’m not going anywhere. Ssshh. I’m okay. I’m okay.” Rhythmic reassurances flow from me, nonsensical and repetitive, and she eventually stills, breathes in.

“How did I fall in love with you so hard and so fast?” Kylie pulls away to look into my eyes. “It’s crazy. I don’t get it sometimes. I don’t know how it happened. It’s not just the sex, it’s…you.”

I can only shake my head. “I don’t know, Ky. I wonder the same thing.” I sink farther back into the pillows and let my eyes slide shut. “I remember everything. I remember knowing I was dying. And my last thought was you. That I loved you. That I didn’t want you to be sad for me. I remember how cold I felt. Seeing a…a light. And not wanting to go to it. I don’t fucking know. Maybe I was…imagining it, but that’s what I remember. Seeing a light and knowing it meant death. Dying. Giving up. Leaving you. And I couldn’t. I wanted to hold on, to come back. I fought it, Kylie. I fought so hard, but I…I couldn’t fight it. It pulled me under. Waking up was a surprise.”

“Thank you.”

I have to think about that one. “For what?”

“For fighting. For coming back to me.”
 

I can’t summon the energy to respond. I just try to squeeze her, so she knows I heard her. The door opens, and I hear soft footfalls nearing me. I force my eyes open, let Shawna help me take the pills, and then I fall under the spell of sleep, holding tight to Kylie.
 

*
 
*
 
*

A week in the hospital. Tests, scans, more tests, more scans. All making sure the blunt force trauma to my skull didn’t scramble my brains. It didn’t, it seems. Finally I can go home. Mom drives me, with Kylie sitting in the back seat of the pickup. She spent nearly every waking moment with me, as much time as she could. She’d come after school, before school, during lunch hour. She’d skip classes. Talk her way back to see me after hours. Slip into my bed with me, lie there with me and talk to me, hold me, kiss me when no one was looking.
 

Going home means a wheelchair, since I’m now a fucking invalid. Thank fuck the elevator in our apartment got fixed. The cast on my leg goes from above my hip to my toes, keeping me totally immobilized from the waist down. With my re-broken arm, I can’t use a crutch, and probably couldn’t with the size of my cast anyway. So I’ve got be pushed around everywhere. Helped from bed to chair and back. I’ll need help to go to the bathroom. To take a shower. Everything.
 

It sucks.

But as the days pass, Kylie stays with me, basically living with me now. She’s made arrangements to do most of her schoolwork here, so she almost never leaves my side. I make her go out every once in a while. I make her go see her friends. But she does everything for me. It was insanely awkward at first, but eventually Kylie and I both have become used to her being my nurse.
 

One of the most annoying things about the whole accident and surgery was that they had to shave the back of my head, just above the hairline. I still have my hair, but it looks weird if I keep it tied up, so it’s down all the time and gets in my eyes. Kylie showed me how to just tie back the front so it doesn’t get in my eyes, but then I look like some stupid elf or something. Whatever. Nothing to be done about it yet.

Ben came over once, on a Saturday afternoon, a few weeks after I got home from the hospital. It was supremely awkward, incredibly tense. Neither of us knew what to say, and being family doesn’t erase the conflict between us.

I’ve got family. An aunt and uncle. A cousin. A cousin with the same name as me is weird. I mean, I don’t go by my first name, but it’s still weird. Having family is weird. I don’t know what to do with it. Am I supposed to just forget the way Ben acted, simply because he’s my cousin? What is a cousin, really, anyway? I mean, are we supposed to be friends now? Is it like having an almost-brother? I don’t know. Seems silly if you’re not me, but I just don’t know what to do with family. I’ve never had any. But when Ben came over we just sat, talked. Listened to music. Turns out Ben likes similar music to me—hard rock and heavy metal—so we have something to talk about at least.

 
His eyes still watch Kylie a little too closely, a little too sharply. Follows her every movement. Checks her out. I mean, she’s gorgeous, so what guy wouldn’t check her out? But I don’t know how to deal with it. It makes me crazy. She’s mine. But can I stop him from looking, from watching? I know he still wants her. He’s still in love with her. You don’t just get over something like that all of a sudden. So what do I do? Let it go and hope he moves on eventually? I don’t know. I don’t have any answers, and I’m hesitant to bring it up to Kylie. He’s her best friend still. They’ve known each other their entire lives. I feel like maybe I need to leave it up to her. Let him look if he wants. Let him hold onto his feelings for her in secret if he wants. She’s with me, and that’s not changing.
 

I’m not sure what the future holds. Being injured, for both of us, has put an indefinite hold on our musical ambitions, which Andersen says he understands, and the offer will be there when we’re ready. Does that mean I’m staying here in Nashville? Possibly. I mean, for once, I have a reason to stay. A family to hold me in one place. Mom and Becca have been spending time together, which is good. She comes home with red eyes, as if she’s been crying, but for the first time she’s open to my questions, and I have a lot of them. She’s talking to Becca about my father, I think. Remembering who he was, and she tells me stories. Good ones, and bad ones, too. She tells me about his mood swings, his cycles. How he’d get depressed more easily and for longer in the fall and winter, and be more manic in the summer and spring. He’d have mini-cycles, swings within swings. Manic days during winter depressions and vice-versa. She tells me how sweet he could be, how talented he could be, if he wanted. I get my music from him, apparently, which is something not even Aunt Becca knew. My dad—I still have a hard time deciding how to think about him: Dad? My father? Ben? I don’t even know—but I always harbored a desire to be a musician. He taught himself guitar, wrote songs. Never went anywhere with it, never believed in himself enough to try. My capacity for math is from Mom. She’d thought about going to college for physics, but life got in the way. She never went, never had the money, and then she met my dad and had me, and it never happened.
 

We got a bill in the mail for my two hospital stays. Mom’s never put us on Medicaid, never had health insurance. Mom sat at the kitchen table, hand over her mouth, staring at the paper. I tried talking to her, but she ignored me, just stared at that astronomical six-digit number, shaking.

And then, a week later, I find her with her cell phone in her hand, sobbing, sitting on the kitchen floor.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” I hobble over to her, dragging my now significantly smaller walking cast along behind me.
 

She lets me help her up, sets her phone on the counter. Kylie is gone for the moment, handing in our assignments to the school. Mom sucks in a deep breath. “The hospital bill. It’s paid. Someone paid it. All of it.”

I felt the world spinning around me. “What? Who?”

Mom shook her head. “They wouldn’t tell me. But…who else could’ve, or would’ve, but Jason and Becca?”

I wobble in a circle, move toward the door. “Come on. We’ve gotta go talk to them.”

Mom drives us to the Dorseys’ house, and I send Kylie a text to meet us there. Becca is on her front porch, sipping iced tea, waiting for us, Kylie sitting next to her, laughing and holding a sweating glass of tea. I make my way slowly up the driveway and up the two shallow steps to the porch, lean back against the wall beside Kylie. Mom stands on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps, staring up at Becca with emotions shining in her eyes.
 

No one speaks for a long time.
 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Becca says. “There will be no talk of not accepting charity, or paying us back. You are family. Oz is my nephew, the only one I’ll ever have. So just say ‘thank you’ and be done.”

Mom sniffs, wipes at her eyes, head bowed. “‘Thank you’ can’t even begin to express it, Becca. Not even close.”

“Kate. You’re
family
. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you.” Becca descends the steps, takes Mom by the shoulders, looks up into her eyes. “You should never have run, Kate. I could’ve…we could’ve been like sisters, all this time. I would’ve helped you with Oz.”

“I was so scared. Of everything. I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never had family. I ran away from home at fourteen.” Mom turns away, arms folded across her middle, staring into the blue afternoon sky, her voice distant. “My parents were…well…not parents. I don’t think there’s a living person on this earth who knows any of this. They beat me. My father…did things. Bad things. To me. To my sister. I ran away on my fourteenth birthday. I stole a hundred and fifty dollars from the coffee can on top of the fridge and took the first bus out of there. Ended up in a homeless shelter in Kansas City. I got a job in a Chinese food restaurant, washing dishes. Soap, water, a sponge, and a sink. They let me sleep in the kitchen at night. I used the sink to take sponge baths. I saved my money for two months, and then I took a bus out of Kansas City. I—I never stayed anywhere for more than a couple months after that. At least not until I met Ben. I was always afraid my father would catch me. He was an evil man. I know he looked for me. He told me once, when I was twelve, that if I ever told anyone what he did to me and Kaylee he’d hurt us. He said we’d never get away from him. Kaylee was four years older than me. She ran away when I was eleven.”
 

Shock, surprise…there are no accurate words for how blown away I am by Mom’s revelations. I didn’t know this. I had no idea. Not a single clue. “What—what happened to your sister?”

Mom shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s probably out there somewhere, if she’s still alive. Teenage runaways…well, they don’t often make it. They end up on drugs, prostitution. Sex slaves. I saw it happen. It almost happened to me. I got…taken, once. In Fisk, Missouri. Just snatched off the street in broad daylight. I waited until they were getting me out of the van, pretended to be unconscious. Then I started kicking, biting, punching. Managed to get away, hid in a dumpster until the next morning. So…Kaylee? I don’t know. I always thought about trying to look for her, but…” Mom shrugs. “I never did. Never could. I’ve Googled her name a few times, but nothing ever came up.” She turns to glance at me. “That’s why we moved so much, Oz. It’s what I knew. I lived in Michigan longer than I ever lived anywhere, and that was because of Ben. I thought I’d found a home, a family. Someone to love me. Someone to care. Four years. That’s the longest I’ve ever stayed in any one place in my life, that and Dallas. It’s just habit now. No reason to stay, so why bother?”

“Holy shit, Mom.”
 

She twists her torso around to smile at me. “It’s old news, honey. I’m just sorry you had to be born to someone like me. You deserved a better life, and I just couldn’t give it to you.” She shifts her gaze to Becca. “I didn’t know how to trust you. I wanted to, but…I’ve never trusted anyone. I never even told Ben about how I grew up.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to try,” Becca says. “Stay here in Nashville. Put down some roots.”

Mom laughs, a slightly bitter sound. “People always say that. ‘Put down roots.’ I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

Becca moves to stand beside Mom. “It means…let us be your family. Come over for lunch. Have drinks with me. Don’t run off. Just…stay here.”

Mom doesn’t answer for a long, long time. When she does, her voice is hesitant. “Family. You really want to be my family?”

Becca laughs, pulls Mom in for a hug. “We already are, Kate.”

“Oh.” Mom glances up at me. “Oz?”

I lean toward Kylie, who wraps her arm around my waist. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got at least one reason to stay here.”

Becca turns to me, frowning. “Only one?”

“At
least
one, I said. And…I like the idea of family, too, honestly.”
 

*
 
*
 
*

Six weeks later, and I’m out of my casts, back to normal. And I’m nervous as hell. I’m sitting in a barber’s chair, an apron around my shoulders. A pretty, friendly woman has her fingers in my hair, waiting for me to give her the signal to start. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, staring at my long auburn hair. It hasn’t been cut since before junior high. I let Mom trim the ends once, two years ago.