Page 104 of Keepsake
“But I let him die! I’m not a good person!” she howled. And her shoulders shook as if they would never stop.
“Bullshit,” I choked out. I knew I was right. She was proving it this very minute. “Only good people care so much. Every time…” I had to stop to wipe my own eyes. “Every time I look at you, I see a good person.” At least she was clinging to me now, instead of pushing me away. “You had shitty choices, Lark. And that poor boy had only shitty choices, too. In fact, it sounds like he’d have had them whether he ever met you or not.”
She was listening to me. That was something.
I wanted to fix it. I’d take all her pain myself if I could. “I know I can’t just talk you into my way of seeing things. You need time. But I won’t ever stop believing in you.” All I could do was to cup her head to my shoulder and hold her while she struggled with herself.
“You shouldn’t love me,” she whispered.
I rocked her in my arms. “Too late.” I just held on tight. It’s all I’d wanted from these past few days, anyway.
“I’ve been horrible to you,” Lark sobbed. “I said shitty things.”
“I don’t listen too good,” I said. At that, Lark coughed out something that was supposed to be a laugh, but it changed back to sobbing right away. I just pulled her a little closer, and let her tears soak through my shirt.
The doctor was standing near the door, watching us. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said. “And we’ll go over our options.” Then he winked at me and walked out.
Lark relaxed against me bit by bit. “Didn’t want to end up here,” she said on a sigh.
“I know. I watched you fight it.”
“Never meant to take you down with me.”
“You didn’t,” I promised. “I know I’m going to have to let you go now, so that you can get well. It’s okay, sweetheart. Listen to me. Eyesrighthere.”
Her frightened eyes found mine and focused. And the amount of pain I saw there nearly broke me in two. “Everyonehas a time when they need a lot more than they can give. It doesn’t matter how much you hate it. It’s just true.” I squeezed her hands tightly, not knowing any other way to make the truth sink in.
“But—”
“Four years ago,” I cut her off. “I hitchhiked two thousand miles from Wyoming to Vermont with strangers. Ibeggedfor food, Lark. I knocked on strangers’ doors, and I asked if they had anything I could eat. And then I showed up at Isaac’s door with nothing. Not even shoes. I hated doing that. It made me feel like useless garbage. But sometimes there’s no choice.”
As I watched, her brown eyes began to fill again. But her gaze didn’t waver.
“When you’re ready to give back, we’ll be ready to receive it. Whenever it is. But for now you just have to dig in, sweetheart.” I pulled her arms forward until her head came to rest on my shoulder. I felt the first tears begin to soak into my flannel shirt. “I can handle it, Lark. Just lean on me. I’ll be your Apostate Farm.”
Tears spilled out of her eyes. So many tears. But I just hung on. It’s what I do.
Later, after Lark’s parents came back into the room, and another long conversation commenced about where Lark might get a month of intense therapy, I excused myself to go find the men’s room, where I did my best to freshen up. On my way back, the doctor buttonholed me in the corridor.
“Son, can I have a word?”
I nodded blearily. My stomach was empty and my eyes were heavy, but I tried to give the man my attention.
“Look, I’ve never seen a guy so young handle this kind of situation so well. Usually I have to cut the boyfriend out of the situation. You impress me. But you’re still going to have to step back from this process.”
I’m not the boyfriend, I reminded myself. It stung, but it was the whole truth. “I know,” I said, my voice hoarse. “She needs more than I can give.” Griff had warned me, and I hadn’t listened.
“I’m sure you’ve been a great help, but she’s going to have to do this alone. If you want her to come out strong on the other side, there’s no other way.”
I swallowed, my throat rough. The doctor was kind, but the message was clear. We never had a chance as a couple. Lark’s parents were going to take her away, and by the time she was herself again, I’d be just a memory. Hell, I’d be abadmemory. Who would want to go back to someone who knew you only when you’d hit bottom?
“Hang in there,” the doctor said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “She’s going to be okay. You know that, right? She’s a strong one.”
I only nodded. It had taken me until now to realize that I’d never been given a speaking role in this drama. I was merely a walk-on, and there was nothing at all I could do about it.
An hour later she was gone.
Lark’s mom drove her back to Boston. But Lark’s dad had to drive the Volkswagen, which I’d driven to the hospital in the dead of night. Mr. Wainright dropped me off at the Shipleys’.
