Page 55 of To Go
I push away from the table and walk to the backyard, forcefully shutting the door behind me. I need some air. I need them to not see my eyes misting over at the fact that I’m not necessary or welcome here anymore.
The smack of the back door rings through the yard, followed by padded footsteps. Laur stands next to me in socked feet, staring out at the grass with me. Their brown flop of hair that usually covers most of their eyes has been cropped short, exposing observant brown eyes that hover over a smattering of freckles across their nose. They look younger like this, smaller.
“Fucking bullshit, right?” they ask, slipping their hands into the pockets of their artfully ripped jeans.
“S’what everyone wants.”
“Dude, that’s not it at all.” They take a deep breath, shoulders barely moving under their standard, massively oversized sweater. “It’s not that we don’t want you around. It’s just… we can all tell you’re unhappy.” I arch a brow skeptically. “Okay, you’re always a little… grumbly, but when I started with you guys, you hung out with us. You stayed at the bar after when you didn’t have to. We were your friends. Now, we can barely get you to stick around for a drink or to even check in.
“You’re the last person from the original group, right?” they ask, and I nod brusquely. “It’s obvious that you miss it. You miss what the band used to be. Me? I love how it’s evolved, but Idon’t think you’ve evolved with it. That’s not a bad thing. Maybe it’s not for you anymore? People change. Most things in life don’t last forever. Besides, you’ve got to admit some of the age differences make things weird sometimes.” They laugh.
They’re not wrong. The band wants to do TikToks and social media trends and use words that I have no idea what they mean. Laur watches as I roll everything around in my head and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Just give it some thought. I think you’ll see we’re right. If it helps, I don’t think anyone’s going to kick you out. We want what’s best for everyone. You included.”
With that, they walk back into the house, and after a few minutes I hear Jill and Nick’s cars leave.
Guess practice is off.I’m trying to contain my anger, but after everything that I did to be here… there’s a hole that’s been ripped into my chest and I don’t know how I’m going to patch it together.If my parents find out about this, if their P.I. is following me and tells them, I’ll be trapped. They’ll know I have no reason to keep dodging them anymore.Dread coils up the back of my neck at the thought, my mouth going dry.
I pull out my phone. Who do I even talk to about this? My parents are out of the goddamn question. They wouldn’t get it, so much as encourage the severance. If I talk to Nessa, she’s just going to be thrilled that I’ll be around more often and she’ll get to use my car.
I could talk to Stella, I think to myself. She would understand. She would probably tell me to cry it out, actually. Then I’d roll my eyes and she’d laugh. The corners of my mouth twitch thinking about it.
Before I can open up her contact and call her, my phone starts ringing. It’s Nessa. Probably calling to see if she can get the car sooner. There’s still nearly two hours until she’s supposed to pick it up. Maybe if I weren’t in such a piss-poor mood I would be more chill about lending her my stuff, but with all this bullshitand the thought of having to detail my car after whatever she’s going to do to it, I simply don’t have the patience for it today.
“WHAT?”I growl into the phone.
“Hey, James,” Nessa’s voice warbles. Right away, I’m on high alert.
“What’s wrong?” I demand. Not much phases her.
“I just wanted to keep you in the loop.” My blood turns to ice. “It’s Hazel’s mom.”
Chapter 17
Stella
We’re all seated, scattered around Hazel’s living room. The silence is deafening.
Hazel is rolled up in a blanket like a burrito. Beck’s giant golden retriever, Fish, is laying next to her with his head in her lap. He’s refused to move from her side since she got the call, sensing something was wrong with his person.
Losing a parent is always hard, no matter what kind of relationship you had. Watching Hazel struggle to mourn her mother while also feeling relieved brings me back.
Nessa has taken up the side opposite Fish, and I’m sitting in front of her, giving him head pats. Beck is in the kitchen making food that I don’t think any of us will be eating.
“What was it like?” Hazel’s voice is hoarse. “Losing your mom?”
I sigh, trying to find the words. “The same but different. She was sick for a long time, and seeing her that way hurt. We did our best to help. It was never enough. I think she took part of mewith her when she died. Knowing she wasn’t in pain anymore… the guilt of feeling better almost ate me alive.”
Hazel’s fingers twine with my own.
“Is it selfish to be relieved?”
“No. It doesn’t mean you love her less, either. Putting down a burden doesn’t always feel good.”
The room falls silent again.
I listen to the stuttered, silent sobs coming from Hazel as memories flicker in and out of my mind. Nothing comes in the right order, but each one is a barb.
How bad the hospital smelled. How frail my mom looked in that bed. How her smile couldn’t make up for her sunken eyes.
