Pushing The Limits: Take Me On Part 18

Isaiah's bad news and he's the reason why she's here. He took her to the dragway. She thinks she loves him, but she doesn't. "Want to get the f.u.c.k off my sister?"

"West!" Rachel chastises.

With his hand still entwined with hers, the son of a b.i.t.c.h barely looks at me. "It's going to take a lot more than you to pull me away from her."

Rachel's head whips in his direction. "Isaiah!"

The balloons thump together. Abby flicks her finger against them until we stare at her. "Festive, people. Urinating on the floor like a pair of dogs does not make for a good party. Well...at least one Rachel should be attending."

Isaiah mumbles something that makes Rachel giggle and Abby starts into some nonsense story. Their voices shift into background noise as I focus on my sister. There's less than a year between us. She has a twin, but I secretly feel like their triplet. My earliest memories are of Rachel, of her laughing and sometimes of her being sick.

She suffers from panic attacks. Bad ones. It makes her shy and it's also made her a target, which is where I come in. From elementary school 'til now, I've never had a problem connecting my fist to the jaw of any guy that's tortured my sister and most girls know better than to talk s.h.i.t about her when I'm around. They'd find themselves having to hang with a new group of people.

My parents don't understand Rachel or any of their children, me included. They don't know all I've done to protect her since we were small, but they do know about the one time I failed.

Rachel shifts, but her legs don't move. There's a buzzing between my muscles and my skin. Like a trapped fly that needs to be surgically removed. Isaiah stands, his mouth moving, but I hear no words. He helps Rachel readjust and once again her legs remain motionless.

As he reclaims his seat, her face pales out and Isaiah and Abby lapse into silence.

"Talk to me." Isaiah possesses a calm that causes me to hate him more.

Rachel sucks in air as if she were in labor. She white-knuckles the railing on her bed and my fingers twitch with the need to tear something apart...to make someone pay for her pain.

My sister's heart-monitor beeps increase. Isaiah pries her fingers off the railing and takes her hands in his. "Abby, go get a nurse. Breathe, Rachel. Give me the pain. I can take it."

Abby stands and I step back.

"West?" Rachel asks through a breath. "Are you okay?"

The hurt in her voice knifes through me. I meet her eyes and shake my head as my sight flickers to her legs again. I've got to get out of here before I implode.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I snap my head to the side to take in Dad. I expect him to yell, asking what the h.e.l.l I'm doing here. Instead he keeps his hand on my shoulder while he mumbles words like "daughter, pain and medication" to a pa.s.sing nurse.

He urges me into the hallway and I follow. The breath is knocked out of me when my mother collides into my body. Her hands capture my face, then slide down to my shoulders while her gla.s.sy eyes survey me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." From over her shoulder, I try to judge my father's reaction, but his poker face gives nothing away.

"Why did you leave?" Mom shakes me. "What on earth would make you leave?"

"Miriam," Dad says softly. "Let's take this into the family waiting room."

Mom observes me like I'm a ghost. "You left. You know I don't handle leaving well."

f.u.c.k, I hurt my mom. "I'm sorry."

"Miriam," urges my father.

As if I'm five, Mom slips her hand into mine and grasps it as if her life or mine depends on the contact. Together, we head down the hallway.

"I didn't know that you were gone until yesterday." She speaks in a quiet voice reserved for conversation during a church service.

"Dad knew," I respond while attempting not to flinch. She didn't notice for two weeks.

"I know." There's a rare bite in her tone. "And I'm dealing with that."

Mom hesitates and I shove my hands in my pockets as I pause with her. Two weeks. Mom didn't notice I was gone for two weeks.

"I've been all but living here at the hospital and when I was at home briefly and didn't see you, I just a.s.sumed that you were out with friends. Making new ones at your new school and keeping up with old ones. We all knew you weren't coping well with Rachel being here, so I thought...you were...dealing with this in your own way. I..." Mom drops off. "You've always been so independent that I never stopped to think..."

That's the point: when it comes to me and my brothers, Mom never stops to think.

"Your brothers knew," she says, but before she can continue Dad calls for us to join him.

In the empty waiting room, Dad pours three cups of coffee and hands one to Mom, then me, and gestures for us to sit. The rich aroma drifts in the air. It's surreal being here with them and crazier that the atmosphere fits a business negotiation more than a family reunion.

"How's Rachel?" After all, that's the reason I'm here. "She didn't move her legs."

In his pressed white shirt, starched black pants and black tie, Dad pulls a seat around, creating a triangle as he faces me and Mom. "I'm flying a new specialist in this week. We should know more soon."

I hold the hot drink between both of my hands and think of Haley's cold fingers. Rachel would like Haley. That's the type of friend she should have instead of drug dealer Abby and punk Isaiah. "Isaiah's bad news."

Dad nods.

"So's the girl," I say with a twinge of guilt. Abby's been helpful, but she's a drug dealer and regardless of what she's done for me, Rachel's safety is the priority. "They're both trouble."

He nods again.

Even now, our father is worthless. "Then why the h.e.l.l are they in there?"

Dad sips the coffee and leans forward. "How do I tell her no when she's in pain?"

"I guess the same way you told me to get the f.u.c.k out of your house."

Dad and Mom glance at each other. Mom angles her body toward me and Dad inspects his coffee. "I was angry and said things I shouldn't have. I didn't think you would listen."

Anger crashes through my bloodstream like a tidal wave. "You didn't think I would listen when I was informed I was trash and you didn't want to see me again?"

The man honestly has the nerve to meet my glare. "It's not like you've listened to anything I've had to say for years. Why would I have thought you'd start now?"

I start to rise and my mother slams a hand on my knee. "You're not leaving." She directs herself at Dad and yells, "He's not leaving. I have buried one child and I have come close to burying another. I will not have stupid pride costing me a third."

"Mrs. Young?" A nurse pops her head into the waiting room. "The dietary nurse would like to speak with you."

Mom is charity-ball smiles as she tells the nurse she'll be right there, but the moment she's gone, Mom releases an expression that could rival Abby's any day of the week as her cold eyes work over Dad. "He's coming home. Fix this. Now."

She stands and smooths out her gray pants and checks the cuffs of her sweater before resting a hand on my cheek. "I love you and I want you home. There is no other option."

Her tone tells me everything else: I disappointed her. She's hurt, angry, sad. That once again I failed. But mostly, she loves me.

I nod, unable to say or do anything else. Her heels click against the faux wooden floor and fade the farther she goes down the hallway. I place the coffee on the end table. "What now?"

"I don't understand you, West."

No s.h.i.t. He doesn't understand anyone in our family.

Dad eyes the floor. "Why were you in the Timberland neighborhood?"

"How did you know?"

"The GPS in your car. I had one installed in all your cars when you got your licenses. I've been trailing you the entire time. You didn't actually think I would just let you walk away? Jesus, West, give me some credit. You are my son."

My eyes jump to his at the word son and a dangerous glimmer of hope flickers inside me. Is it possible he regrets throwing me out? But if that's the case, how come he never showed? How come he didn't ask me to return home?

"Your mom tried to call you," he says.

"My cell died."

"I figured." He scratches his jaw. "You haven't answered me. Why were you in the Timberland neighborhood? Why not with one of your friends or my parents?"

"Dump's in that side of town. Just going where you told me I belonged." I'm pushing him. We've been tearing at each other for so long we have no idea how to stop. At least I don't.

"Why, West?" he presses. "I need to know, why there?"

"Why does it matter?" Does Dad know Mom's been going to that bar?

"Answer the question. Why do you make everything difficult?"

"If I do, it's because I learned from the best."

"Just answer the question." His voice rises with his anger.

I stay there because it's close to Haley, but I don't want her anywhere near a conversation with Dad. "It doesn't matter why."

His fist clenches. "My father once told me you can love your children, but you don't have to like them. I never understood him. I thought his words were cold and callous, but then I realized I don't always like you."

f.u.c.k it. I stand, memorizing what I'll tell Mom because I refuse to live under his thumb. Not after holding Haley last night. Not after figuring out my life's jacked up. I'll take the d.a.m.n shelter. Living in the d.a.m.ned car wasn't as bad as listening to this.

"I was in the Timberland neighborhood because I got a job," I say. "That pays. Tell Mom I'll call her once a week."

The surprise registering in his eyes causes me to smirk. He honestly thought I'd return home with my b.a.l.l.s cut off and he sure as h.e.l.l didn't think I'd be willing to walk again.

"A job?" he asks.

"Yeah. I don't need you anymore."

The moment I step for the door he says, "Your mother's been through h.e.l.l. Are you willing to put her through more?"

f.u.c.k him for using guilt. "No, I'm not."

"Then come home for her."

A knife straight to my gut. Come home for Mom, not for him because he could give two s.h.i.ts about me. Regardless of how much I tell myself I don't care what he thinks of me, I do. I'll never hear him say he wants me or that he's proud of me, yet whenever he opens his mouth, I hope for the words.

"What are your terms?" I won't fool myself that this is anything more than a business negotiation. Haley's words echo in my mind: Are we different from animals on an auction block?

"I'll give you until graduation to clean up your act, your grades, your life, your att.i.tude, and if you do, I'll let you stay in my house. Otherwise, I want you out this summer. Who knows, maybe you can find a way to make me proud."

"Yeah," I mutter as I leave. "You never know."

Haley It's eight at night and West is late.

I untangle the last jump rope and loop it neatly with the others on the hook on the wall. Two million explanations as to why he hasn't shown yet have deluged my mind, but it's the reasons that cause my heart to ache that stick around to torture me. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I scan the gym to find something else to fiddle with to pa.s.s the time.

"Prince Charming chip a nail and decide the sport wasn't for him?" My grandfather turns off the light to his office. "Tells you a lot about a man's integrity for him to show late."

"I'm sure he has a good reason."

"Humph."

"He'll show." He will. Though doubt tiptoes in my mind like a linebacker through tulips. After the intense night we shared together, I sort of freaked and blew him off this morning. My eyes drift over to the clock again. As much as each tick of the second hand causes a painful sinking of my heart, in theory, isn't this what I wanted? West to walk away?

The door opens, cold air rushes into the gym and the groan of a tractor trailer rumbling down into a lower gear from the freeway enters alongside West. My muscles actually relax at the sight of him, like I stepped into a hot bath. Until this moment, I hadn't realized how much I had come to depend on him keeping his word.

With his baseball cap on backward, heavy jacket and gym bag thrown over his shoulder, West smiles when he spots me. My answering grin actually makes me feel like I'm floating, but then I notice his blue eyes. There's no light shining from them. Just a bland dimness and the high within me plummets.

John mumbles something to West as he leaves. West nods his head and says, "Will do."

I sit on the mat and roll out my yellow wraps, pretending I'm not dying to know why he's not on time. "What did John say?"

"He told me to make sure you got home safely."

"Hmm." I have nothing intelligible to say to that.

West plops down beside me, unzips his bag and pulls out his set of wraps. "Sorry I'm late."

"Why were you?" Hey, he brought it up.

He smirks with a m.u.f.fled snort. "You don't let anything slide, do you?"

"Answer the question." Because while I hate to admit it, John's right. Being late is an integrity issue and it's one I plan on nipping in the bud now.

West pulls his cap off and scratches the top of his head. His blond hair sticks out in a hot crazy mess. He shoves his hat into the bag, then stares at the ground. "I saw my parents."

My eyes flash to him, but he doesn't meet my gaze. "Where? How? What happened?"

"At the hospital. I visited my sister and they were there."

He pauses and I have no idea if I should fill the silent gap. Time pa.s.ses. Enough I'm uncomfortable. "Is she okay?"