Page 149 of Mess With Me

It occurs to me while I’m waiting that I should text Cass to let her know I’m going to be late—and might not make it at all—but when I pat my pockets and find them empty, I realize I must have left my phone back at Griffin’s when looking for my keys. I’m annoyed with myself for getting distracted by that search for Sam, then flustered when Viv called. But I don’t want to miss Chester, so I continue pacing instead.

A few minutes later, a shiny dark green Jaguar comes tearing down the drive. Vivian drives like a maniac. I rush to the car’s back door, but Chester’s already getting out, cussing at me to get out of the way. He’s wearing a hospital gown and robe and doesn’t have any shoes on.

I don’t even have time to be shocked at his appearance or how grumpy he’s being, because Vivian starts pulling away before I’ve even got his door closed.

“Wait!” I yell, chasing after her. She brakes, rolling down her window a crack, as if I’m going to try to sell her something.

I see why a moment later. Her sister, who I’ve never met, sits in the passenger seat. She’s ghostly pale and thin, her eyes closed. She looks like a sickly version of Vivian, and I realize with a shock that I had no idea how sick she was. I’m ashamed to say this only makes me think of Chester, who’s currently hobbling to the front door with a white plastic bag in his hand markedPersonal Belongings.

“What?” Vivian snaps.

She’s never told us about her sister. She hides her.

I tear my eyes from the woman in the passenger seat.

“Vivian, what happened?”

“Don’t you know? I thought you were his friend?”

Guilt rocks me. “No! I mean yes, but he hasn’t told me about…any of this.”

Vivian looks exasperated, but also like she pities me. She shoves her stick into reverse but doesn’t move. “He said he wasn’t getting ‘poked and prodded’ anymore and he started making a big stink. Then they said he needed to be accompanied home. He said the taxi driver would be his ‘goddamned chaperone,’ but they didn’t like that.” She huffs, then shakes her head. “Guess he’s your problem now.”

She rolls up the window before I can respond, backing up too fast and narrowly missing a tree before peeling away.

When I look up at Chester, he’s only made it to the bench on his porch. He’s looking at me, his hands curled in his lap, his pale, skinny legs sticking out of the patterned hospital gown.

He looks painfully small.

I walk toward him, my heart in my throat.

“What did she tell you?” Chester asks.

All other worries have vanished in the face of this new development. A lump the size of a goose egg lodges in my throat. “Not much. But I’m putting the pieces together.”

Chester sighs, his small chest rising up and then down again. He slides over, making room for me.

It’s freezing out here, the bench cold and hard.

“It’s already humiliating not driving myself down to somewhere I don’t even want to go,” Chester says after a while.

I think of the big dip in his bumper. “Is your car not working anymore?”

“It works. I just hit a damn tree. People already think I’m unfit to drive. They see me driving in town with a tree shaped dent in the front? That’s a ticket to lose the old gal altogether. I took a taxi down there, thinking I was bein’ so clever. Just look at me now.”

He folds his scrawny arms over his chest. When he rubs his upper arms, I realize it’s not just because he’s frustrated.

“May I?” I indicate the bag.

He nods, and I open it, pulling open his coat. He lets me lay it over his shoulders.

We sit in silence a moment. Then I ask, “How long have you known?”

“What, that I’m on my way out?”

I laugh, like this is a joke. But it’s not. The laugh gets stuck in a sob. “Chester—”

“It’s only been a couple weeks. I didn’t even want to go back there, but the doctor looked so sad I told her I would. Then they brought all these needles out.” He waves his hand in the air. “I ain’t goin’ back. What’s the point?”

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