Of course, if anyone found out, they’d fire him in a heartbeat. He’d probably never teach again.
Something heavy thudded downstairs.
I put in my earbuds and lay back, eyes closed. The Constellations, “Right Where I Belong.” Mellow and bluesy and bittersweet. Just how I felt.
A tepid breeze ghosted through the room, smelling of grass and dying summer. The cicadas were so loud I heard them through the music, the rattle of a million rainsticks. What are you doing right now? I wondered. What if I called?
Something heavy fell again. My bed vibrated.
I sat up, yanking out my earbuds.
Thump. Thump. Crash.
I stormed downstairs, calling for Mom.
A man stood in our living room. Rangy, gray beard, jeans so oily they looked like leather.
“Your mom had too much to drink,” he said.
Mom was on the floor. He was trying to help her to the sofa.
“Jesus,” I said, kneeling. Her skin was cool to the touch. “She wasn’t drinking. She’s cold. What did she take?”
The man gave me an unreadable look.
“Mom?” I shook her. She was breathing, but shallowly. “Mom, what did you take?”
I thumbed open an eye. Her pupil contracted in the light. She moaned, rolled away from me.
Thank f**king god.
I turned to the man. “Who are you?”
“Paul.”
“Paul,” I said curtly, “carry my mom to bed.”
He carried her, and I held her head up. I pulled the cover over her. Turned on the lamp. Found her cell and pressed it into Paul’s hand.
“You’re going to stay with her until she comes down,” I said. “Check her pulse every ten minutes. If it slows, or she gets colder, or stops breathing, call a f**king ambulance. I can’t do this again.”
Paul had trouble paying attention to my mouth. He stared at my legs like they were talking.
“Hey.” I snapped my fingers.
He looked up.
I took a picture of him with my phone. “Now I’ve got you on file. Don’t f**king leave her until she comes down.”
Paul’s beard twitched.
I shut the bedroom door and leaned my head against the wall in the darkness. My throat twisted shut. Selfish bitch. She had never, ever let me be a kid.
A wedge of hot amber light fell across me. Paul stepped out of the bedroom. For a pathetic second I considered hugging this stranger. I needed to be hugged, by anyone.
Paul put a hand on my back. My shoulders knit. The hand slid down to the top of my ass.
I slammed my elbow into his gut. He gave a small, stifled gasp.
“Touch me again,” I said, “and I’ll f**king kill you.”
I walked fast out of the hall, but once I turned the corner I ran for the front door. Slammed it behind me. Dropped onto the top step, breathing wildly.
God, my life was a f**king joke.
I pulled my phone out, intending to call Wesley, to beg him to meet me somewhere, but before I could a new text popped up.
From Mr. Wilke.
Just a photo, no words. A ribbon of fireflies zigzagging through the night. The fiery spokes of a Ferris wheel. The merry-go-round like a giant music box. Deathsnake, a sinuous line of lights rising into the sky, dropping off into oblivion. It looked like a small galaxy, a fog of colored light hanging around it like a nebula. He’d taken it from his house. The lights he saw every night.
My heart calmed. I stared at the screen, forgetting the life behind me. Wish I was there, I replied.
A moment later, his response: Me too.
Somewhere in the universe, two hearts reached out and connected.
Then a figure stepped into the light streaming from the house, a shadow falling over me.
I leapt up and ran for my bike in the garage. Pedaled furiously down the street to the highway. I headed for the water tower, racing as fast as I could, even when I was alone with the arctic starlight and the wind keening in my ears.
At the reservoir I jumped off my bike, letting it fall. Used my momentum to run up the hill. Breathless, sweaty. My blood sang in my veins at hypersonic speed. I climbed to the crow’s nest, feeling savage. I could kill someone with my bare hands right now.
Wesley sat on the driftwood boards, a point of orange fire frozen beside his face.
“Maise?”
I collapsed beside him, rolling to my back and staring up at the fat-bellied tank. Drank air that tasted like clove smoke.
“What happened to you?”
I waited until I had my breath back. “My mom overdosed.”
“Is she going to live?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” I sat up. “Maybe. I really don’t give a f**k.”
I felt him looking at me. I slid to the edge of the platform, dangling my legs off. Thirty-foot drop to grass and dirt. Probably not fatal.
“What’s your greatest fear?” I said, gripping an iron strut angling overhead.
Wesley exhaled. “Being alone for the rest of my life.”
“That’s a good one.” My fingers flexed. “Mine is being my mom.”
I kicked myself off the platform.
Wesley yelled something. My arms held; I swung out over space, light as air. It seemed I could let go and just float to the ground like ash.
Arms around my waist.
His attempt at “rescuing” me almost resulted in both of us falling. I kept telling him to let go, let go, but he wouldn’t. We toppled backward, his arms still locked around me. I wrestled free.
“Jesus,” I said. “You almost made that a murder-suicide.”