Page 78 of The Last Guy On Earth
I blink. “Shelby, you haven’t spoken to us in months. Your kid asks me every night when you’re finally going to call. And you called to talk about hockey?”
There’s a silence on the line, and I mentally curse myself for taking a swing at her two seconds into our first call in months. I meant to do better. But she’s so damn frustrating.
“Shelby—”
“Jethro—” We both try to speak at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” I break through. “Talk about whatever, Shelby. It’s good to hear from you.”
She sighs. “I didn’t call to talk about hockey. Not really. But it’s hard to know where to start. I realize how hard I’ve made everything, and I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes and lean back against the wall. It’s loud around me in the locker room, and it’s loud inside my head. “I can take it. Whatever,” I say in a fit of eloquence. “But would you please call Toby? He’s just barely holding it together.”
“In…Colorado?” she asks. “He’s with you? I asked the director to let me watch one of your games as a reward. She told me you play for Colorado now.” Shelby sobs. “I didn’t even know. I was picturing you and Dad and Toby in Detroit together.”
My heart breaks a little. “We’re still together. But, yeah, Toby had to start a new school. He’ll tell you he hates it, but it’s not going all that bad. He has a couple friends. He joined the robotics club.”
“What’s…what’s that mean?” she asks tearfully.
“Swear to God I don’t even know. He tried to explain it to me. Something to do with LEGO and computer programming?”
We both laugh uncomfortably.
“Thank you for watching over him,” my sister says, her voice thick. “I know you think I dumped him on you.”
You did. “I’ll always look out for Toby,” I say because it’s true.
“Do you know why?” she asks.
“Um…” Is there an answer to that question that won’t get me in trouble?
“Because I’m an addict, Jethro.” She sobs again.
“I know, babe.” My eyes prickle.
“I know you know!” she wails. “But I never said it out loud until this month. I didn’t even want to come to this place. I only did it because it sounded better than jail. And Jethro—I relapsed here.”
“Inrehab?” I can’t even disguise my dismay.
“Somebody’s mom brought her a fix,” she says, sniffling. “I took it from her. Even after all that work getting detoxed, I stole a needle and shot up. Then I got so sick I thought I’d die.”
God, Shelby. You idiot. I take a deep breath instead of saying it aloud.
“Jethro, I thought I deserved it. That’s the thing you never got about me. I do all my stupid shit because I didn’t think I was...” She sobs.
I bite down on my lip.
Her voice is thick with tears as she continues. “There was a nurse who sat with me for twelve hours while I detoxed again. I said, ‘It’s late, just go home to your family.’ And she said, ‘I stayed because you need someone. And you’re worth it, Shelby. Even when you’re a mess, you’re still worth saving. We’re all worth saving.’ But I realized…Ineverbelieved that before.”
“Shel, Jesus.” My eyes burn and fill, and it startles me. I haven’t cried since the nineties. “Of course, you’re worth it.”
“You say that…but…” She hiccups. “Not everyone is you. Not everyone knows where they belong.”
I gulp in air. Someone moves into my peripheral vision, and I turn away instinctively.
“Jetty.” Clay’s voice is quiet. Worried.
I give him a quick head shake.Everything is fine. Nothing to see here. He backs away.
