Page 127 of Vespertine
“I’m so sorry,” Crystal said. She reached for Jasper’shands. “Oh my boy.”
Jasper was hollow; cried out. “I don’t understand. I talkedto him this morning. He was…happy. I—” He glanced at his mother. “I told him Iwas leaving the Church.” His mother’s grip tightened on his fingers.
“Well, at least that’s good. I never thought you weresuited—”
“Mom.”
She went quiet. “Yes. You’re right, of course. Now is notthe time. Honey…” She shifted so she could look Jasper in the eye. “This is howaddicts are. Any kind of emotion, whether it’s good or bad, can swing themright out of their carefully constructed balance. It’s not your fault. It would’vehappened sooner or later.”
“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “He was strong. He washappy. He wouldn’t…he wouldn’t have risked it.” His face twisted, becauseobviously Nicky had. A sharp pain shot through his chest and he gasped anddoubled over.
“Let me get you some water.”
He nodded and sat in silent disbelief until she returned.How could Nicky be gone? How was he supposed to go on now?
“Listen to me, Jasper. Nicky wouldn’t have taken those drugsthinking they would kill him. He’s been off them for so long, his resistancewould’ve worn down completely. He might’ve taken a dose he was perfectly finewith before, thinking one last time wouldn’t matter.”
“But he had a patch. A maintenance medication. A new one. Ican’t remember. It would’ve made him sick, he knew that.” He reached for thewater and drank, surprised to find himself parched. His face throbbed like itwas bruised.
“That patch wears off fast if he doesn’t keep up with it.Who’s to say he hadn’t stopped applying it, thinking he didn’t need it anymore,and then when temptation came he couldn’t resist? Addiction is an illness, butit’s a beast, Jasper. It will trick your brain into doing what it wants. Thereis no rational thinking at that point.”
Jasper closed his eyes and remembered how badly Nicky hadwanted a hit of just about anything to make the withdrawal of the patch goaway. If it had come off, and he hadn’t noticed, or didn’t have a replacementready…
“He’s dead, Mom.” Jasper hugged his arms around himself andhung his head. “What am I going to do?”
She gently ran her fingers through his hair, and he had avague memory of her doing that when he was a child. She wasn’t maternal, butshe loved him. “Did you leave the Church for him?”
Jasper shook his head. “It was certainly a big part of thereason why I’m doing it now, but I had to save Blue Oasis.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do.” She cupped his face. She was pretty,his mom, in a severe sort of way. Her eyes glistened wetly and some of hermascara had smudged. “You’re strong and intelligent, and I’m so very proud ofyou. I realize I never said it, but I am. You go after what you want and youdon’t look back. You will mourn him, and you will help these kids, one day at atime. Then sometime in the future you’ll wake up, and you’ll realize thinkingof him doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
The idea of it not hurting seemed utterly impossible. Hesighed. “The Blumfelds…they’re not home. I don’t know if they know.”
“Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll keep an eye outfor them.”
Jasper nodded and stood. He imagined his childhood bedroom,where he’d spent so much time with Nicky, and none at all since.
“Actually I think I’m going to swim to the island.”
“Jasper—” His mom began, but she stopped and nodded. “Okay.Whatever you need, honey. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Jasper hugged her and then walked out of thehouse and onto their pristine dock. The Blumfeld house was still quiet andJasper’s heart ached at the thought of the pain that would live between thosewalls from now on.
You can’t be dead. You can’t. I don’t believe it.
He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed. He triedagain and again, and every time Nicky told him to go away.
Yelling, Jasper threw his phone into the water. With asplash he dove in too, and he didn’t look back as he swam to their island—whatonce had been their refuge, and now would be the grave of their love.
Chapter Twenty-three
NICKY’SPLANE TOUCHED DOWN INPhiladelphia. When he turned his phone back on, itbinged and pinged with dozens of messages and missed call notifications. Withshaking hands, he put the phone back in his pocket. He needed to get home. Heneeded Jazz and his mom and dad, and he needed to forget the horror of watchingMick die on his bathroom floor while he’d screamed at the 911 operator toplease hurry.
In a daze, he walked through the airport looking for hisnext gate to catch the connecting flight back to sanity and safety. He’d givenhis statement to the cops before they’d wheeled Mick out of his house. As they’dsnapped pictures of Mick’s body, he’d told them how he and Mick had arguedabout the drugs. He’d told them how Mick had locked himself in the bathroomwith a needle, and when Nicky had finally managed to kick the door open it’dbeen too late. He remembered how they’d patted him on the shoulder and told himhe’d done all he could, while he’d stared at the zipped body bag the paramedicswere lifting onto a stretcher.
Nicky was still surprised they hadn’t arrested him, or atleast insisted he be tested for drugs too, but maybe he’d been convincingenough in his shock and panic. Or maybe they didn’t give a shit aboutcelebrities and their addictions. Regardless, they’d agreed he could go home toLittle Heights so long as he stayed available for future questioning.
Wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, he kept his headdown, hoping no one would recognize him with his new haircut and healthy weightgain. Philly wasn’t LaGuardia orJFK, so he couldat least hope the place wouldn’t be full of paps. But by now the news of Mick’sdeath would be out, and he’d lose his shit if he had a camera and voicerecorder stuck in his face right now.
