Always and Forever (19 page)

“Yeah, just one,” Kal growled from behind me. “Don't.”

Then, he yanked me back through the window.

PART THREE: BARGAINING

T
WENTY
-T
WO

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK
you're doing?” he bellowed. His rage turned his handsome face cold, harsh, ugly.

I stumbled away from him and clutched the whiskey bottle to my chest. The pills were scattered all over the floor, having been jerked loose of my grip when Kal manhandled me back into the room. “What am I doing?” I snarled. “What the hell are you doing, breaking into my house?”

“I'm saving your miserable life,” he snapped back.

“Shouldn't have wasted your time,” I mumbled, staggering over to the bed. “I'm already dead.”

“Mia,” he groaned, the fight draining out of him as he uttered my name. He followed me over to the bed, his hands fluttering around me, not quite touching but there nonetheless, silently guiding me along. Gentle fingers slid the coat from my shoulders and pried Jack from my cold, clammy hands. “What's going on with you?” His eyes burned straight through me to the very core of my being. Did he see the cancer, the black hole drilling into my soul?

“Nothing,” I answered. An automatic response. “I'm fine.”

“Clearly,” he agreed sarcastically. “Because only the most well-adjusted people plant themselves on a ledge with a fifth of whiskey and a bottle of pills.”

“Exactly.”

A loud, exasperated sigh fell out of him. He lifted a hand to reach out to me, to bridge the wide, aching gap between us, but at the last moment stopped himself, snatched his fingers away from me
a millisecond before our skin collided, leaving me oddly bereft, a hollowed-out shell. I'd done this, caused this great yawning chasm between us. It was all for the greater good. He'd be better off this way.

At least, that was my story, and I was going to stick to it, even if it killed me. Ha. Killed me. I cracked myself up sometimes.

“It's my fault,” he finally declared, his voice coated and dripping with self-loathing. “I pushed at you, forcing my feelings on you, when clearly you didn't return the sentiment. You didn't know how to handle it all. I understand that now, but Mia…” He trailed off, pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and chewed, something he only did when he was supremely upset but knew without a doubt that he could fix things, make them right.

I should have stopped him right then and there, assured him that none of this had anything to do with him. I was the damaged one here, broken so far beyond repair it was laughable, but like always, I stayed silent, just watched as he tore himself open, ripped a jagged hole in his chest and bled out all over my pristine white comforter. Like I said, I'm a selfish bitch.

“This isn't the way to deal with things,” he continued quietly. “You can't hide yourself away from everyone and everything just because you don't know how to deal with things. We're all worried about you—”

I interrupted with a derisive snort and a disbelieving shake of the head.

“We are,” he repeated. “Brad, Dave, Adam, Ricki—”

“Ricki doesn't give a good god damn about anyone or anything unless it directly affects her,” I cut in, a little too bitterly. “You know that.”

“Regardless—”

“Are you about done lecturing me on how to live my life?” I glared at him for a century before I rolled over on the bed and presented him with my back, a silent order for him to get the hell out of my room.

“No.” His hand dropped onto my shoulder, yanked, and swiveled me around to face him. “We're not done here. You may not want me in the same way that I want you, Mia, but we're still best friends—”

“And, this is how you treat your best friend? Manhandling me like you're some kind of cave man?” I jerked out of his grip and rolled off the bed in a move that was probably a little too sudden, a little too fast, considering my recent balance problems. I swayed slightly on my feet, and my arms flailed out in an effort to keep my footing. No such luck. My head swam, my knees buckled, and the floor rushed up at me.

Kal—always my knight in shining armor—leapt to my side and caught me just before I smacked my head on the bedpost. He set me back on the bed and stared down at me, regarding me silently. I didn't dare look up at him. My tirade had stopped cold with my dizzy spell.

“I'm fine,” I mumbled. “Just a little swoony.”

“Swoony,” he echoed, his voice stilted, and I realized my mistake immediately. I'd used the “swoony” excuse far too many times recently, and Kal was no idiot. I didn't need to look up to see the realization etched into his face.

Bottomless brown eyes going from open, honest, and questioning would shutter, become cold and distant as he put two and two together, the terrible truth dawning on him. His face, as well, would be an unreadable mask, all hard lines and stone features.

“You lied to me,” he said, his voice strangely even, cold.

“I never lied to you,” I whispered, shaking my head. Still, I couldn't bring myself to look up, to see the cold condemnation and the absolute destruction of our friendship. Years and years—almost a decade—gone in the space of a moment, never to be had again.

“Damn it, Mia,” he exploded. He jumped to his feet and paced away from me. After only a few steps, he whirled back around. Murderous rage leeched into his eyes, and the unreadable mask of his face contorted into a hot molten mess. “You stood right there in that bathroom—” He slashed an accusing finger through the air. “—and told me that you weren't dying!”

“No,” I responded, slowly, spacing my words out carefully to keep my voice as even as possible. His temper was already flying sky high. I couldn't afford to lose my cool, too. “I told you that I wasn't dying of cancer.”

“That makes no sense at all. Either you're sick or you're not. And, you, yourself, told me that the cancer was inoperable. That if
the second tests came back positive, it was a death—” He stopped abruptly; his words melted away as his mouth dropped open and realization finally dawned. “You…the train…the accident…” His voice rose with every syllable that leaped off his tongue. “The basement? You've been
trying
to kill yourself?”

“I don't see how any of this is your business anymore.”

He just stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. Under his appalled gaze, I felt small. I shrank and shriveled up into a tiny piece of nothing. My outside finally matched my inside.

“I guess you're right,” he said stiffly. “I mean, if you can't even be honest with me, we were never friends to begin with. And really, one week doesn't count for shit when it comes to dating.” He barked out a cold, bitter laugh. “What does it matter anyway? You're dying, and I've got my own life to live.” He marched over to me, leaned forward, and swiped the Jack Daniels from off the nightstand. Then, he scooped up the pill bottle and every single tiny piece that had skittered across the floor. “You'll have to find some other way to off yourself, though, because I'm not going to help you.”

With that, he spun on his heel, walked through the door, and out of my life, my heart tore with every step that carried him away from me.

*   *   *

A soft knock on the door made me stiffen. Mom had already been up three times since she'd gotten home from work. Apparently, the school called her after my showdown with Mr. Wilson. They didn't tell her much, but the principal expected to see us first thing in the morning. Mom didn't press me for details, just told me that I'd need to be ready for class a little earlier than usual. Each time she came up after that, she'd made up some silly little reason for being there, like to see if I had any laundry that needed to be done or whether I wanted a snack. Excuses, and nothing more.

“I don't need anything, Mom,” I groaned. “Really, I'm fine.”

“Good to hear, but I'm not your mother,” Ricki said as she threw the door open. A wide grin was pasted across her face, but the cracks in her façade were readily apparent. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes, stress lines around lips stretched far too thin, and a slight furrowing of her brow, all fairly screamed,
Drama!

I stiffened, pushed myself up to a seated position, and eyed her wearily. “What are you doing here?” I asked quietly, suspicion flooding through me. “Did Kal call you?”

“What? No, why would he call me?” Confusion flitted through her eyes just before she flopped across my bed with a loud, dramatic sigh. “I know we've been on the outs lately, but I really needed a friend, Mia,” she wailed. “Nothing is going right. Not at all.”

Story of my life…er…death. Nothing seemed to want to pan out for me, either. “I know how that is,” I said, a little more guarded than I should need to be with a
“friend”
.

She propped herself up on an elbow and regarded me for all of a second. “No offense, Mia, but how could you possibly know how it is for me? I mean, look at you.” She waved a hand in the air at me. “You have everything. Your parents are cool. Your little brother doesn't hound you all the time or play pranks on you. Your ex-boyfriend, who is one of the hottest guys at school, is still mooning over you even though you two broke up ages ago, and even though you've been treating him and everyone else like crap the past few weeks, you're still the most popular girl alive. So, how could you ever know how bad life is?”

“Believe me, Ricki, I—”

“No, you don't!” She launched herself to her feet, her movements jerky, agitated. Must be nice to be able to toss yourself around without fear of falling on your face. “How can you really know? My life sucks, big time. I mean, I could just die right now.” Tears sprang up, spilled over, and splashed down her face in a wide gushing waterfall of theatrics. I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

“That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?”

“No, it's not! Adam broke up with me,” she wailed and scrubbed at her puffy eyes. “It was so ugly and public and mean.”

I didn't say anything, just waited for her to continue, which she did in less than a nanosecond.

“He found out about Brian, and he just went ballistic. I mean, yeah, I understand that he'd be hurt and all, but it's not like Brian and I did anything. Well, we kissed, but we never went further than that…well not much further than that, but that's not the point!”

“What is the point?” I asked, irritated. “You hurt him, Ricki. He loved you, and this is how you treat the boy who's been with you forever? You just tossed him to the side, like he was a used up old coat. You didn't just hurt him. You broke his heart. And, now you come crying to me about how he ended things with you?”

“You just don't understand,” she began in a hurt little voice. “Brian didn't really mean anything to me. He was just—”

“Then, why the hell did you do it? Tell me that, Rick. Make me understand how you could be so cold, so heartless to someone as good and kind as Adam. Help me to see your side, because I've got to tell you that right now I don't understand. I don't see how you could treat him so badly. Boo-freaking-hoo, Ricki. He broke up with you,” I sneered. “From where I'm sitting, it looks like it was no less than you deserved.”

She flinched as if I'd physically hit her, a sucker punch to the gut. The look on her face said it all, equal parts horror, anger, and hurt. Maybe if I were a better person I would've felt bad for being so mean to her, but in that moment, I was cold. I was stone. I felt dead inside, devoid of all feeling, drained of any emotion besides anger.

Anger was easy. It was simple. It needed no introduction, no explanation. It was what it was. There was no need to make excuses or tender apologies. Those were for the remorseful, the good-hearted, the weak, and I was none of those things.

“I always knew you were no friend of mine,” she said in slow, frozen syllables. “Real friends stick with each other, no matter what.”

And for the second time that afternoon, someone I loved more than anything else in this world or the next walked out on me, and didn't look back.

T
WENTY
-T
HREE

MORNING DAWNED PAINFULLY CLEAR,
bright, and cheery. Sun streamed through the window and cast a warm, airy glow about my room. I cringed against it all as I slowly came awake. With a loud groan of exasperation, I rolled over—turned my back on the kind of weather I'd always enjoyed but now could no longer stomach—and yanked the comforter up over my head.

A minute later, Mom rapped on the door, pounding out her third—and final—wake up call. Shoving aside the covers, I pushed up and off the mattress, swayed slightly once on my feet. Would the dizziness ever lessen, or would this be my reality for the remainder of my time?

In and out of the shower in record time, I stumbled downstairs to find Mom and Dad waiting for me, grim expressions plastered across their faces.

“Now is really not the time for lectures,” I cut them off before they could even start in on me. “I know how you feel about the whole me not telling people about the cancer thing, and you both know what I'm going to say to that. So, let's just consider it all repeated. Okay?”

Dad pursed his lips, his face molten and coloring at least sixteen different shades of scarlet. Mom just shook her head as if she couldn't quite believe she had a daughter as selfish as me.

“Not okay,” Dad informed me, his voice colder than I'd ever heard it. “This is it, Mia. You need to come clean with everyone.”

“But—”

“Mia, honey,” Mom began. She reached out a trembling hand, clasped it over mine. “People need to know. They need to time to adjust to this, to prepare themselves.”

“Yeah, cuz that's really helped us,” I muttered. I pulled my hands out from beneath hers and crossed my arms over my chest.

“It's for the best,” Mom said, her voice wooden, no infliction, like she was reciting a speech she'd spent all night rehearsing. Maybe she had.

“I doubt that.”

Dad's frown deepened. He leaned forward. His face was distorted into a stern glare that made me shrink back. “The school, at least, will be told,” he spit out each word as if it were a jagged piece of glass he was trying to retch up.

“But—”

“No buts,” he snapped while Mom buried her face in the handkerchief he'd handed her. “You don't have a whole lot of time left, and while I can't force you to come clean with your friends—”