‘You’re meant to be saving the civilians, not smoking them.’ Ethan laughed.
‘My bad.’ Oliver glanced up, meeting my eyes with an arch of his eyebrow. ‘Well?’
I rested my cheek against my knees, not sure how to reply. He already thought he knew who I was: he’d put me in a box in his mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that was.
‘Chloe’s helping out at home,’ Ethan answered for me, reaching up to pat my legs. ‘Her mom’s sick, so she’s waiting for a while before college.’
I felt a flicker of irritation, like he’d shared a secret he shouldn’t have. But that was wrong. It was hardly a secret if everyone in town knew.
‘Why?’ Oliver asked again.
‘Why what?’ I said slowly.
‘Why should you have to look after her?’
I paused. ‘She’s my mom.’
‘And?’ Oliver prompted.
‘And nothing.’ I clenched my jaw to keep from snapping.
‘Easy there, tiger.’ Oliver’s lips curled in a smile. ‘I’m just saying, our Aunt Glenda broke her leg last year, but that didn’t mean I had to put my whole life on hold to go help her to the bathroom.’
‘That’s different,’ I argued. I felt my irritation growing, an inexplicable burn. ‘She’s my mom. I’m supposed to look out for her.’
‘Only if you choose. Obligation is a two-way street,’ Oliver said, turning back to the game. ‘Doesn’t work unless you agree to play. But hey, leaving home can be a scary thing. Ethan here never managed it. Maybe it’s good you have an excuse to stay.’
‘Bro . . . ’ Ethan warned. ‘Drop it.’
‘No!’ I spoke over him, scrambling to my feet in a flash of anger. A month of stress and constant anxiety suddenly reared up inside me. ‘You don’t get to say that,’ I accused him. ‘You think this my choice, to stay here, instead of starting my actual life? You think I want to be stuck working crappy temp jobs trying to pay the bills?’ My voice came, loud. ‘That I’m using the fact my mom had a nervous breakdown as some kind of excuse?’
Ethan was on his feet in an instant. ‘Hey, it’s OK,’ he tried to calm me. ‘Olly didn’t mean that, did you?’ He turned to Oliver, who was still sprawled on the floor.
Oliver held up his hands, his face innocent. ‘I was just asking.’
‘See?’ Ethan soothed me. ‘You took it wrong.’
It didn’t feel that way to me, but just as soon as it had boiled up, my anger deserted me. I stood there, heart pounding, feeling foolish at my outburst. ‘I think I should go now,’ I muttered.
‘No, stay.’ Oliver put the console aside and got to his feet. ‘I’m leaving. See? You guys can get back to . . . well, whatever you were doing.’ He slapped Ethan on the back, but that was even worse.
‘It’s late.’ I said. ‘I have to get back. Ethan?’
‘Sure, I’ll take you.’ Ethan looked for his shoes, but I was already heading for the door.
‘Nice meeting you, Chloe.’ Oliver’s voice followed me out into the hall. ‘See you soon!’
I headed blindly downstairs, trying to pull myself together. I’d overreacted, I knew that already, but still, I couldn’t help it.
‘Don’t let him push your buttons,’ Ethan said, catching up in the foyer. ‘It’s what he does, you’ll get used to it.’
I turned away. ‘I’m fine.’ I grabbed my coat from the hall and pulled it on. ‘Ready to go?’
‘All set.’ Ethan held the door open, waiting until I’d stepped out into the cold night air before following after me.
We walked slowly away from the house. ‘You didn’t say you were paying the bills,’ Ethan said quietly. ‘I thought you were saving for tuition, travel.’
My stomach lurched. ‘I am.’ I managed a bright reply. ‘I just meant, it’s a lot of responsibility, that’s all.’
‘I know.’ He reached over and took my hand, pulling me to a stop. He looked down at me, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘I think you’re amazing,’ Ethan said quietly, looking almost shy for a moment. ‘What you’re doing, taking care of her.’
I looked away, self-conscious. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
‘It is.’ Ethan corrected me. ‘I’ll talk to Olly, he shouldn’t have pushed you like that. He’s just making trouble.’
‘Don’t.’ I could see Oliver’s eyes on me, whenever Ethan answered for me or reached to pat my legs. Like I was some kind of helpless girl in need of protection. ‘It’s fine, really. I don’t care,’ I said again. ‘But maybe you should get that lock for the door.’
Ethan chuckled. ‘First thing tomorrow. Anyway, I’m sure he’s got better things to do than hang around here. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother us again.
I watch him through the window of the ICU, laying so pale and still. My fingers itch to push his hair back out of his eyes, trace the contours of his face the way I used to, late at night.
I swear, I know his body by heart.
It shocked me, just how easily he tore apart under that blade: skin slicing open, the fibres of his form splitting apart, gaping red and angry inside. He was always so solid to me, from the moment he first sauntered into my life: every limb and sinew flowing together in an indivisible whole; the smile and the walk and the absent-minded gestures. He was a presence, complete.
Necessary.
I never thought about the cells and cables strung just below the surface, the clockwork pieces ticking to keep his body in time. The things that could be pulled apart and, in a heartbeat, make him less than the sum total of himself.
There are wires trailing over his body, machines that beep in a low hum. Glass walls divide us, keeping me from him.
I watch, and I wait, and I wonder.
Did they find the other body too soon?
The week passed, day by dreary day. Ethan didn’t mention Oliver again, so I didn’t ask. Instead, I threw myself into applications for classes at Rossmore, navigating the process of getting my transfer approved in between my shifts at the sheriff’s department and late nights working at the diner. I had a glimpse of light, some way to make sure this time wasn’t wasted in vain, and I was determined to make it work. When Mom was better, when I was back in college again . . . The promises I made to myself seemed distant and wispy, but they were all I had.