One Last Song Part 24

Drew played songs I'd never heard before. Some of them were melancholy, the kind of songs I'd want played at my end-of-life party if I ever had one. The others were more upbeat, sort of a send-off into the other life and a rejoicing of Pierce's life in this realm. Once or twice as Drew was playing, I heard the words slur just a bit as his tongue tried to get around them. But he kept going, and I wondered if it had just been my imagination.

When he was done, everyone clapped. I went up to help him with his guitar because I could see that he was getting tired. I wondered if he'd shoo me away, tell me he could handle it like he'd done the day before at his house, but he smiled at me and let me help him. It worried me a little, that he accepted help so readily. Maybe he was sicker than I'd realized.

People were still milling in and out of Pierce's apartment. Even with the door open and it being about fifteen degrees outside, I began to feel like I couldn't breathe. The night was coming to a close, at least for Drew and me, and I knew that meant I had to tell him what I'd promised to tell him. I felt like someone had tied a rope around my waist and was pulling the knot tighter and tighter. Black spots began to acc.u.mulate at the corner of my vision. I tapped Drew on the arm and he turned to look at me. He'd been talking to someone about his songs.

"Sorry," I said. "But I need some air."

He put his hand to my cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I tried to smile for his benefit. In my head, I saw the rope get even tighter, blood beginning to seep from my waist onto its white cotton. "Come downstairs for a moment when you're done here, okay?"

He shook his head. "I'm done now." Then he grabbed my hand with his free one and we made our way through the crowd.

In the elevator, he kept sneaking glances at me, but I was concentrating on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. The two women in there with us kept up a steady commentary on Pierce's condition.

"He looked awful, didn't he?" The older woman with white pin curls asked her younger companion. "Just awful."

"My heart just breaks for his poor mother," the youngish one in a bright pink jacket with matching boots replied. "She's the one I'm worried about, really. No husband, and a dying child."

The elevators yawned open, and I stepped off and headed outside the building, not wanting to wait for Drew. I couldn't hear any more about Pierce. I couldn't think about the burden all of them bore-Drew, Zee, her parents, Jack, his parents, Pierce and his mom-and how they'd invited me into their circle without question, without the slightest hint of doubt in their eyes.

I stood on the sidewalk outside, my hands stuffed into my pockets, watching the sparkling asphalt. The black ice was like diamonds under the lampposts. The women exited, still chattering sixty miles per hour, not even looking at me as they walked to their cars. Drew was next. He stood beside me, looking out toward the highway. Our breath came out in short, puffy clouds, then dissipated right before me into nothing.

The moment stretched out. I could feel it pressing against my ears, my nose, trying to wriggle its way into my mouth. I had to say something. I had to get it out somehow.

"I'm leaving," I said. "I'm going to North Carolina."

Drew exhaled, just a sharp thrust of air straight from his lungs into the night air, a near-silent exclamation point. He turned to me, very slowly. "Can we sit down?"

I blinked, trying to understand his question. "Oh, um, yeah. Of course." I led the way to a bench on the side of the building, and we sat. The cold seeped into my jeans and clung to my skin.

"Just, you know, if you're breaking up with me, I'd like to be sitting for it." He pushed a hand through his hair, his eyes glistening.

"No, I'm not-" I put my hand on his thigh, and he just kept his eyes on me, steady, unblinking. My chest actually hurt, as if my heart were literally shattering in there, the pointy edges jabbing into my ribs, leaving scars on the inside that would never heal. "I don't want to break up with you. It's not my decision to go. But... I think it's best."

"Wait. It's not your decision? So whose decision is it?" The muscle in his jaw twitched. He was mad, trying to hold it in.

This conversation wasn't going like I'd planned. I needed to haul it back on track, back to me, to the lie I'd told. I rubbed my hands together; my fingers were numb from the cold. Why hadn't I brought gloves? "My dad's, but it's-"

"That's bulls.h.i.+t. You're an adult. He can't make you go if you don't want to." He tapped his cane on the ground as he talked, to punctuate his words.

"Yes, he can, actually. I don't have any money. And he won't let me live at their place anymore; he won't support me. You're right, Drew, I'm an adult, which means my dad doesn't have to pay for my meals or my housing like he is right now." I shrugged. "That's his prerogative. So I'm choosing to go to school. It'll be good for me anyway, to get on with my education."

Drew scooted closer to me on the bench. We sat facing each other, his thighs bookending mine on either side. He set his cane down and took my hands in both of his. Warmth seeped back into my skin; feeling returned. "Move in with me."

Of all the things I'd imagined coming out of this talk tonight, it wasn't that. My heart plunged into the depths of my body because I knew what it must've taken for him to offer this, and what it was going to take for me to refuse.

"What?"

"Move in with me," Drew said, softer. He put his hands on either side of my face. My hands, which only moments ago had been ensconced in his, so sure of their place, were now suspended in the air without purpose. "I love you, Saylor. I love you more than I've loved anyone, ever. I don't want you to go to North Carolina. Okay? That's too far away. And maybe that's selfish for me to say. Maybe the right thing to say would be, 'Go. Go get your education.' But I'm selfish. I need you here with me. And I can see it in your face that you want to be here with me, too."

He kissed me, all of his yearning, all of the love, pouring out through his mouth and into mine, until I could barely breathe, until all I was aware of were his lungs, pus.h.i.+ng life into mine.

"Stay," he whispered.

I stared into his eyes, the blue and flecks of glowing silver all-consuming. It seemed I could see the whole world in there, everything I'd ever wanted to see all compressed into those two circles. How easy it would be, to simply slip into this life I'd made for myself. I could shed my old life, my old sick, diseased life, like a snake molts its skin, leaving behind what doesn't fit anymore to take on something new and fresh. My life with Drew, it could be what I'd been dreaming of since that night he kissed me outside Sphinx. It could be. All it would take would be swallowing one lie I'd told, making an excuse for the strange case of the disappearing MS.

My head hurt; it throbbed with the weight of those decisions. "I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know."

"Then take tonight to think about it." He kissed me again. "Don't say anything yet. Just come with me. Okay? Just come to my apartment. Sleep on it."

After a pause, I nodded. I was so tired. Maybe I could take tonight off. Just not think about everything. Just one more night of blissful quiet, of peace. That's all. In the morning, I'd rally again. I'd tell Drew for sure. In the morning.

Hand in hand, we walked to my car. Hand in hand, we drove to Drew's place.

That night, we didn't make love. I got into his bed fully clothed, and he got in beside me, curling his body around mine, as if he wanted to absorb all the thoughts I had of going away. He stroked my hair, going over my temple, down my cheek, to the place where my neck and shoulder joined. He did that over and over again. I closed my eyes, letting his warmth steal over me, steal my anxiety away. It was going to be okay. In the morning, it would all be okay.

Chapter Forty-Eight.

I jerked awake when Drew's cell phone let out a shrill ring.

He kissed the back of my head. "Sorry," he whispered. "Text message."

Uncurling himself from me-we were still in the exact same positions we'd been in when we fell asleep-he reached out to the night table and grabbed his cell phone. After he read what the screen said, he typed in a text message, cursed when his fingers wouldn't cooperate, and then re-typed until he got the message right. Putting the phone on the bed between us, he looked at me. "It's Zee. She's calling an emergency TIDD meeting at the hospital."

We looked at each other a long moment, and I felt my breathing slow. "Pierce?" My voice sounded like I was underwater, muted and deep.

"That's what I think." Drew reached out, squeezed my hand, and then turned around to get out of bed. I followed.

We were quiet on the car ride there. I kept sneaking glances at him out of the corner of my eye. If he felt his own mortality because of this, he didn't show it. The sunlight was dappled, coming in through the window of the car, streaking across his hair. It picked out the red and light brown highlights, made his eyes look blue and gold rather than blue and silver like they'd been last night. He was humming a song under his breath. It took me until we pulled into the hospital's parking lot to realize what it was: "Hallelujah."

I thought about what I had to tell him later. After sleep's cleansing effect, I knew I couldn't stay at his apartment, pretending the lie I'd told wasn't really a lie at all. I couldn't just forget about it. I had to come clean. It didn't seem right to tell him before Pierce's death was official news, and as we walked into the hospital building, I realized it didn't seem right to tell him after either.

It was then that it came to me, as we took the elevators down to the bas.e.m.e.nt: There really was no good time to tell someone you'd been lying to them since you first met.

We walked into the TIDD group meeting. Zee and Carson were sitting in their usual spots in the circle. There was someone new across from Zee. When I walked in, she turned around. It was Linda Adams, the volunteer administrator.

I stopped in the doorway. Drew continued on, and because we were holding hands, our arms stretched out, a lifeline between the two of us. He turned to look at me, a question in his eyes.

"You might as well come in," Zee said, staring straight at me. "Cat's out of the bag."

Linda stood when she saw me, her face grim and expression tight, as if she had her hands on either sides of her face, pulling the skin. "Saylor. Come in, sit." She gestured to the chair next to hers.

"What's going on?" Drew looked from me to Linda and to Zee. "Is this about Pierce?"

I walked forward, letting my hand drop from his.

This wasn't about Pierce at all. This was a setup to catch me. My heart raced, my cheeks flushed, and I could feel myself begin to sweat under my jacket. But if my body was going a hundred miles an hour, my brain was strangely detached, as if it was watching all this happen to someone else.

I sat in the chair next to Linda Adams, staring out the half window at the parking lot above us, cars driving by every so often without even being aware that we were down there like moles, watching their movements.

Drew sat next to me, ignoring his usual spot. "What's going on?" he asked again. He was confused and angry; I could tell he thought that this was all a misunderstanding he could make go away, just as soon as somebody told him what the f.u.c.k was going on.

I turned to him, shook my head a little. Then I took off my jacket, folded it neatly in my lap and waited. My brain floated in the s.p.a.ce in my skull, not really engaging.

Linda Adams cleared her throat. "Well. This is... this is going to be difficult." In spite of the grim look on her face, her voice was apologetic, as if she was expecting an onslaught of abuse to be hurled at her. Or maybe she was afraid the hospital would be sued.

"No, I think it's really easy, actually," Zee said, glaring at me. She was wearing her red pigtail wig again, her arms crossed against her bony chest. Her breathing was labored under the weight of her anger. "Saylor made great big fools out of all of us."

I closed my eyes for a brief second, then opened them again. I wanted to take this all in. To jar my brain into thinking.

"Wait a minute," Drew said. "She hasn't done-"

"You don't know what the h.e.l.l we're talking about," Zee said, dismissively.

"Well then, why doesn't somebody f.u.c.king tell me?" Drew spat back.

Carson shook his head. "I think something needs to be done about this."

Linda held up her hands. "Maybe we should let Saylor explain," she said. To me: "I haven't disclosed anything to them about you. It would violate HIPAA regulations. But I think it's best if you told them as much as you're comfortable with, given what's happened here."

The others fell quiet and stared at me. I felt Drew looking at me. His hand reached for mine, but I shook my head again. He put it back in his lap.

"I'm sorry," I said, and my voice had that weird underwater quality again, distant and echoing. "I lied to all of you." I turned and looked at Drew. "I'm sorry."

"Lied?" He pushed a hand through his hair, and I noticed it was trembling. "What... what are you talking about?"

A tear slipped out, streaked down my cheek. I didn't even realize I was sad. I just felt so very numb. "I don't have MS," I said, looking out the window again. A blue Hummer drove by, leaving a trail of thick exhaust. "At least, not when you mean MS to be multiple sclerosis. I was supposed to volunteer here, in the hospital, helping set groups up and break them down when they were done meeting. The day I met you"-I looked at Drew, his eyes wide, staring at me like he didn't understand why I was blathering this nonsense-"I was just sitting there, reading a book on multiple sclerosis. You a.s.sumed I was part of the TIDD group, and... I let you. And then I played along. I let you all believe I was just as sick as the rest of you."

"Why?" Drew asked, the question slipping like a mournful song into the room, into my ear.

I wanted to stand up, walk out, save myself. But I forced myself to say the words. "I have Munchausen syndrome. That means I... I make myself sick for attention." I took a deep breath, my lungs filling up with what felt like hot, fiery air. I wanted it to incinerate me. "I felt included for the first time in my life." Another tear streaked down my cheek, and then another and another. "I felt like I belonged here. I started to care about you guys."

Zee laughed, a forced, mirthless bark. "Right. You started to care about us. You wanted our friends.h.i.+p. It had nothing to do with the fact that we're all dying. That you love being sick so much you wanted to see up close what that looks like."

"No, it wasn't like that." I looked at her, my voice breaking. I wanted to be honest, I had to. Now was the time for candor. Clearing my throat, I began again. "I'll admit that at first, it... it was interesting." Carson looked like he wanted to punch me, his hands tightening around the handles of his wheelchair. "I admit that, okay? But really quickly, it became so much more than that." I turned to Drew again. "You became so much more than just your disease. All of you."

"Well, that's mighty f.u.c.king big of you." Zee shook her head incredulously.

Drew was staring at me wide-eyed, as if his brain wouldn't let him be in the moment either. I could hear my heart cracking inside.

Linda cleared her throat again. "Zee and Carson tell me she hasn't asked them for money or taken anything from them. Drew, I'm going to have to ask you the same question. Has Saylor taken monetary advantage of you?"

I wanted to die. I wanted the sedan that was driving down the parking lot to sail through the half window of the bas.e.m.e.nt somehow and plow right into me. Just create nothingness where I was before.

"No." Drew's voice was hollowed out, like a pumpkin at Halloween. His hands were balled in his lap now, and he was looking down at them.

"And Pierce?" Linda looked at me.

"No," I whispered. "It wasn't like that. I promise. I'd never have done that."

"Yeah, well forgive us if we don't trust you right now," Carson said. "I can't believe this."

"I just want to know one thing," Zee said. "When you took me wig shopping that day? Were you just laughing at me the whole time in your head?"

I shook my head, tears falling fast, dripping down onto the jacket I held in my lap. They started to pool on the s.h.i.+ny black surface. "No."

She kept her arms crossed and looked away, as if she couldn't believe me.

I stood up and turned to Linda Adams. "I have to go."

She stood up, too. "I do need to speak with you quickly." She turned to the others. "I'll be right back, and we'll talk more about this."

Then she followed me outside to the hallway.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to tell Dr. Stone about this," she said. "And you won't be allowed to volunteer here anymore. I'm sure you understand."

I nodded.

"You'll have to bring back your badge."

Did they think I might try stealing in later, just try to pick up where I left off? I realized then that I had no right to say anything. They were justified in thinking whatever they wanted about me.

"Okay," I said. Then, as an afterthought: "How did you find out?"

"I saw you at Pierce's place last night. I know his mother. We're old friends."

I nodded. And then I began to walk away.

Chapter Forty-Nine.

When I got home, I went straight upstairs. I sat on my bed, staring at the pink-and-gold-striped wallpaper on my walls. It was nearly nineteen years old, hung when my parents had found out they were having a girl. But it looked bright and new, festive. I wondered how my mother managed to do that-keep this house still and fresh, as if it were zippered up in some time-defying plastic case that was invisible to the human eye.