A Hundred Thousand Words Part 18

Still, he sits there watching me, pleading with me. The same feelings are probably mirrored in my eyes.

"No response. I don't know why I'm surprised." Levi stands. "I just found out my brother sincerely hates me, and the man I love probably won't ever be able to be honest about the way he feels about me, but thanks for being worried about that, Dad. I'll be sure to get right back down to school because we all know that's the only thing that's important."

And then Levi walks away from me too. I've never felt more like my dad. Alone. Left behind.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.

For the next couple days, I don't leave the hospital. My mind's a ma.s.sive tangle of too many thoughts to sort through-Levi, Chris, Dad. Every time I try to figure things out, try to unravel everything that's happened, it's like my circuits overload and my emotions and my body shut down. It's all I can do to find the strength to get up and try again.

It's one of those days where I'm struggling for strength, when I hear a soft knock on my dad's hospital room door.

It's ajar already, but there's a sweet voice that says, "Knock knock. Can I come in?"

Taking a deep breath I turn to look at Elaine, forcing myself to smile. "Hi, yeah. Come in." Standing up, I point to the chair so she can sit down, but she just shakes her head.

"No, thank you."

I don't sit down again, and I'm shifting nervously from foot to foot, when she says, "My husband tells me they're bringing him out of the coma. That's good news."

"Yeah." Shoving my hands into my pockets, I wait for her to say what she came to say.

She looks up at me through eyes the same dark-whiskey color as Levi's. "I'm sorry about everything that happened the other day, kiddo."

"Thank you." I am too. "Did they head out? Did Levi go back to school?" The room goes still while I wait for her response. I swear even the f.u.c.king machines seem to quiet, waiting to hear about Levi. Typical.

"Yes." She fidgets with her purse. "They both left. Levi that day and Chris yesterday."

There's a pang in my chest. It starts out as a little nick, a pebble hitting a windshield, but it grows out from there. Each second it spiders out, another long crack running the length of me. Of course he went back. Why shouldn't he? Oh, other than the fact that regardless of what happened with us, medical school is the last place Levi wants to be.

"They'll come around, both of them. They love you. You should call them," Mrs. Baxter says.

But I can't, not right now. I spent the last six months lying to my best friend, and as for Levi...I saw it in his eyes when he walked away. He finally realized I can't give him what he needs. "You should talk to Levi," I tell her. "Really talk to him. He deserves to be happy."

She nods slowly, goodbye in her eyes. "I will. Thanks, Toby. If you need anything, let me know. Anything at all, okay?"

I close my eyes when she hugs me, hold her a second longer than she does me, and then back away. "Thanks, Mrs. B."

And then just like everyone else, she's gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.

It's the middle of the night when Dad wakes up. His eyes flutter, try to adjust, before they land on me. My heart lurches, crawls up my throat as I shove to my feet, and lean over the bed.

"Hey, Dad. Hi. It's Toby." No s.h.i.t it's f.u.c.king Toby. Who the h.e.l.l else would it be?

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and then there's a nurse there pushing me out of the way and checking him out.

It goes like that for a few days. He's awake more and more but can't really talk. His throat's sore from where he was intubated and a few other reasons they tell me but I don't pay attention to most of them. All I know is he can't talk, and not in the same way we didn't speak before.

With each minute that pa.s.ses, each hour, each day, Dad's getting more and more frustrated.

It takes another couple days for him to get his voice back. Still it's soft, rough from lack of use, when he says, "Wallet. In. My. Wallet."

There's a cabinet with his things in it on the other side of the room. I kept meaning to take most of it home, but kept forgetting. I don't want to get up though, don't want to walk away from him because he's alive and looking at me and talking. I want us to grab onto our words now, say everything that needs to be said because I could have f.u.c.king lost him and I wouldn't have had the chance to tell him I loved him. I would always wonder if he loved me...

"Please," Dad says, so I force myself to my feet and hurry to the cabinet. It sticks, so I pull harder and it makes a slight popping sound before coming open. I glance over at Dad who's watching me...who's smiling at me.

My fingers fumble to open the bag where they've stashed his things. Finally I get it open, and then pull his wallet out before going back to sit beside his bed again.

"Open." He points to it, nodding at me, a smile still on his thick lips, which are shaped like mine.

There's an old envelope inside. It's bent from being folded in his wallet so long, the corners tearing and the page weathered where it's creased. My name is scrawled on it in the same messy handwriting that was on my Christmas card. This has been there much longer, though.

Looking up at him, my brows pull together. I'm wondering what's in this letter that he's held onto for so long.

"Read." He nods toward my hand.

With shaky fingers I rip it open.

Tobias, I have a confession to make, that I probably should have made a long time ago. It's hard for me...words don't come real easily to me, which I'm sure comes as no surprise to you. It's always been a problem for me made even worse by my guilt.

The truth is, I asked your mama to leave.

My eyes jerk from the paper and land squarely on my dad. What the f.u.c.k? He asked her to go? He told her to leave us...to leave me? "Why?" My voice snaps like a feral dog on the attack.

"Read," he says again and as much as I want to force him to tell me, to f.u.c.king speak instead of taking the easy way out, I know he can't right now. So I fight to steady my hand, to hold the aged paper still so I can continue to read.

Sometimes I wonder how much you remember. You've never said much and Lord knows I haven't opened up to you. Do you remember that the last time she left wasn't the first? That she had stints where she'd be gone for weeks at a time and Grandma would come stay with us, or I'd have to take time off work? Do you remember that sometimes she would sleep for days on end?

She went into rehab four times over the years, each one because I insisted. The first time I'd come home from work to see she'd left food cooking and you in front of the television. She'd be pa.s.sed out in the bathroom. You were five. I'm thankful if you don't remember.

The words begin to blur, to swim around the page, forcing me to wipe my eyes so I can see them clearly. Tiny shards of memories start coming together in my head...the time I couldn't wake her, the time we snuck out of bed while Dad was sleeping and we ate a whole loaf of bread, making sandwich after sandwich until I got sick.

There's more, if you want we'll talk about it. The last day I had a double shift at work. She knew I wouldn't be home until after three a.m. You waited for her to pick you up at school, and she didn't come. You walked home and sat in that house all day and half the night scared while she was out struggling with her demons.

That, I knew-I knew she'd forgotten about me and left me alone. That she picked a day Dad wouldn't be home to disappear, but I hadn't let myself call him.

When I walked into that house and saw you curled up on the couch, crying, something broke inside me, Tobias. I loved her so much, I wanted to save her so badly...but I loved you more. You were more important. So I put you to bed, and when she came home, I told her she had to go back into rehab, or she couldn't come back.

I've spent the last eleven years wondering if I made the right decision. If I robbed you of your mother. If I robbed you of your family because Lord knows I haven't been the kind of father you deserve.

I'm a flawed man, kid. I will never claim to be anything different, but I love you, and I'm sorry I'm not better at showing you that.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to hold back the tears. She had a problem. She could have hurt me. Dad asked her to leave. He did it because he loves me. She chose her addiction over us.

"Toby. I love you."

With those four words spoken aloud, every hard edge in me softens, every st.i.tch in my armor dissolves until there's nothing else, just raw, open Tobias Jackson, and I cry. My eyes pool, blur, then brim over as I grab my dad's hand and say, "I love you, too."

He squeezes my hand and I squeeze his. Tears run down his face, wetting his pillow as we hold each other and cry. Things aren't perfect. I'm not sure what I feel, and there's a million questions I need to ask. There's talking to do, and healing to be done, but now that the gate's been opened, our words set free, I won't ever let either of us close them again.

We're on the right path, Dad and I, now I just need to find the right path for myself as well.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE.

I open the door to my apartment to see Xavier sitting on the couch, phone in his hand. "There's someone in our apartment complex on Grindr right now. Have you seen anyone blow-worthy around here? His abs look nice from the picture."

I smile, relief flooding through me. It's good to be home. "I missed you, too."

Xavier tosses his cell to the coffee table. "How's your pops?"

"On the mend."

"You said you missed me. We really are friends now, huh?" He winks, his eyes looking different when there's no dark eyeliner on them. He's trying to be nonchalant, and I appreciate that but there's too much heavy s.h.i.t inside me to be nonchalant, too. I need to let it out, don't want it trapped inside me to fester anymore. Dad let too many things rot his will to be happy for too long; I can't let that become me.

"We are... I'm going to try not to be such a d.i.c.khead most of the time."

"Why? d.i.c.ks are fun."

Rolling my eyes at him, I sit down on our small couch. Dropping my head back, I say, "Everything's so f.u.c.ked up, man. I screwed things up with Levi and my best friend isn't talking to me. My dad's in the hospital and I found out some s.h.i.t about my past that I'm still trying to sort through." But I can't do it alone...and I need to dig through it. Turning my head, I look at him. "I could use a friend."

Xavier shrugs. "I'm sittin' right here."

And I know it's not just him who's there for me-Cherise and Brian would be there, too. I have people in my corner; I just have to make sure not to push them away.

Sitting on our faded, dirty couch with a video game in the background and stale smoke clinging to the air, I talk to Xavier. I tell him how I screwed up with Levi and pushed him away. Tell him about my lies and my s.h.i.t growing up. He sits there and listens, waits, lets me lean on him and when I finish he says, "Your boy loves you. Get your s.h.i.t together up here." Xavier taps his temple with a finger, "And right here," then his chest. "Then you make things right with everyone else. s.h.i.t's gotta be right with you first."

And I know he's right.

CHAPTER FORTY.

June The phone doesn't stop ringing.

Chris used to be quick to answer, but as the number of rings climbs-three, four-fear claws at me. He's not going to answer. I waited too f.u.c.king long. I lost my best friend.

"h.e.l.lo?"

And then I can breathe. "Hey...it's me."

"No s.h.i.t. Did you think I lost your number? Deleted it from my phone? I've been waiting for your punk a.s.s to call. Took you long enough."

Jesus, I missed the sound of his f.u.c.king voice. "I screwed up."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know that, too."

"You're my best friend."

"No s.h.i.t."

Then I'm laughing and Chris is doing the same. When we finally calm down, he says, "I was angry...probably more than I should have been. It's just, you know how s.h.i.t with me and Levi was. I was jealous and being a p.u.s.s.y like always when it comes to him. Still, you should have told me. I wouldn't lie to you, never have. That's not cool, T."

This time it's me who's saying, "I know." My bed squeaks when I sit down. My room's full of boxes that Cherise and Brian helped me pack. "I'm sorry. I know it sounds crazy, but I was scared to lose you if you found out. I wanted him, but I knew I needed you, too."

"Do you really think I'd walk away from eleven years of friendship because you have s.h.i.tty taste in dudes?"

As much as I don't want to fight with Chris, not anymore, I can't keep quiet about Levi either. "He's a good guy. He's not who you think he is. He's..."

"I know. We're working on our stuff. I see that it wasn't all him, he was going through more than I thought and maybe some things had been misinterpreted. That doesn't mean we're perfect, but we're better. A lot of s.h.i.t's gone down since I've been waiting for you to make the first move. I'll admit, I understand why you were nervous to tell me, but I don't get how you could really think you'd lose me. I'm not going anywhere, T."

He's not. Logically, I know that. Our bond is too strong. "I get it. I just couldn't believe it. I'm working on that, though. Been talking to someone, trying to learn that everyone I love isn't going to leave."

There's a long pause and then, "Are you in love with Levi?"

My eyes don't veer away from his easel in the corner, Levi's easel. "Yeah." There's nothing I've been surer of in my life.

"Then you should tell him." Chris chuckles. "I can't believe my brother was f.u.c.king you. This is going to take some getting used to." It's the best thing he can say, the realest.

"How do you know I wasn't f.u.c.king him?"

"Ah, s.h.i.t. Too much information." He makes a gagging noise through the phone. He and Levi both have this youthful, fun quality about them. They're more alike than they realize. Or h.e.l.l, maybe they do realize it now.