Chapter 37
“No.”
He didn’t look at Jacky as he got out of the car and brushed past him. One foot in front of the other. Cracks in the walkway. Up the two steps and then tried the door. Who had locked it? He felt in his pockets for the key. Nothing. They would be in his backpack. He sighed, deflated. Prepared to turn around. Jacky was standing right there, holding his keys out to him.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Jacky said to him.
Ryan just turned away and went into the house.
***
It was silent after he shut the door. Dark, silent. Empty. No beeping. No whooshing sound of air.
He was alone.
For a long time he stood in the doorway of her room. The bed wasn’t made. The EMTs had taken her out and put her on a gurney and left the rumpled sheets and the bank of dark machines.
His own room felt just as dead and empty. There didn’t seem to be anything here he wanted. His schoolbooks were in his backpack, in the car. He pulled out a duffel bag and methodically went through his drawers. Seven pairs of underwear. Seven pairs of socks. Two pairs of jeans. Seven shirts. It didn’t seem like much. He took his toothbrush from the bathroom. All the pill bottles were hers. He looked at the labels. He took two of the bottles and buried them in the clothes.
Back to packing. He should bring pajamas. He had some pajama pants and an old sweatshirt from when he played junior varsity. He’d been so small then, the sweatshirt had been enormous on him, and now it fit him snugly. He’d probably just wear a t-shirt to bed.
If there was a bed. He considered taking his pillow, didn’t. Hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder, he returned to his mother’s room and took her pillow. He didn’t care that it had a flowered pillowcase or that it smelled more like a hospital than like her. That was it. He supposed he could take a photo, but he’d have to hunt for one from before she was sick.
He stopped before he got to the front door. Looking around, he wondered what would happen to all this stuff. To the house. He knew the house still had a mortgage. But the stuff inside, where would it go after the bank took the house? He wasn’t sure he cared. All of it was steeped in memories that he’d been avoiding.
“Do you think he’s okay in there?” Jacky asked. He was still standing outside the car, shifting from foot to foot.
“I’m sure this is hard for him, but sometimes people need time alone to grieve.”
“But, maybe he’s just afraid to ask…” Jacky trailed off when Ryan finally emerged, some twenty minutes after he’d gone in. He heaved a sigh.
Mrs. Jennings popped the trunk and Ryan put his bag and a pillow in the back. Ryan approached Jacky’s side. Jacky waited for him to get in, but he just stood there. Jacky reached out for his hand. Ryan didn’t respond to that. Didn’t move while Jacky slid his hand down to fit into Ryan’s. “Are you okay?” Jacky asked.
“I’m just waiting for you to get in,” Ryan said flatly.
Jacky gripped Ryan’s hand as he looked into the car. “Oh, okay.” He swallowed hard. Despite Ryan’s tone of voice, Jacky felt like Ryan somehow knew how Jacky felt about being in the car. He wanted to hold hands during the short drive. It should have helped, but it didn’t. His breathing was getting faster.
“Just get in,” his mother called unhelpfully from the front.
He could do this. He could do this for Ryan.
Ryan waited for Jacky to get into the car. He wanted to keep holding Jacky’s hand. That was all. That was the only reason he wanted to switch seats. Jacky’s hand.
So he waited. It seemed like waiting was the only thing he was good at doing.
It was awkward, clumsy, the way Jacky finally got into the back seat. He didn’t have his hand to use for balance or support as he ducked down, and his legs were so wobbly he nearly collapsed into the seat. Ryan didn’t push at him to hurry up, or demand what was taking so long. He could tell his mom was feeling impatient now. When he finally landed in the seat, and Ryan pushed him over a little so he could squeeze in, and Jacky had taken a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes and remembered that other people had it worse than him. Ryan was all alone. He only had Jacky, so Jacky had to be there for him. His mother wasn’t going to get into a car accident driving one street over.
Fifty percent of car accidents happened within five miles of home.
He squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut.
He could hear his mom telling him to put on his seatbelt, but he couldn’t do that. Ryan was holding his hand. Rather, he was squeezing Ryan’s hand as hard as he could.
He felt Ryan leaning over him and a band tightened across his chest. For a moment he thought he was having another panic attack, and that almost made him have a panic attack, before he realized it was just the seatbelt. Ryan was putting his seatbelt on for him.
“I’m here,” Ryan said to him. Whispered, maybe, but it sounded too loud, and when Ryan touched his face he flinched. Then gentle pressure, and Ryan was pressing Jacky’s face to his shoulder and holding it there.
All the way home.
When Ryan finally lay down on the bed, all the stuff before it felt like a blur: Jacky leading him up to the guest room, and showing him where the bathroom was, and showing him where there were towels and asking him if he was hungry. Allison finally got there with the paperwork and everything and then she had needed a tour.
The only time Ryan said anything was when Jacky’s mom said, “Honey, I’m sure Ryan is tired.” Then he just said, “Yeah.”
It would have been nice to have Jacky here. To curl up around him, and crush him tight against his chest. If it had been Monica, he knew her parents wouldn’t have allowed that, so he assumed Jacky’s mom wouldn’t allow that either.
The white sheets felt cold under him, the blanket not nearly warm enough, the sage green walls too bright. Green was supposed to be a soothing color, he remembered that from somewhere. That was why they had “green rooms” backstage. At least he had her pillow. He breathed in and out and stared at the walls until his eyes blurred, then he waited for sleep to fill up the emptiness.
