Charade

Page 27

  Author: Nyrae Dawn

  I step forward and Cheyenne backward. She leans against the wall and just lets me hold her. Holds me. “I’m losing her,” pushes past my lips, into her neck. “I’m fucking losing her. I don’t want to lose anyone else I love. I don’t want to lose you. ” I don’t know where the words are suddenly coming from, but I can’t make them stop. Can’t reel them in. “I’m a prick half the time, but you make me better. You make me happy. I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I don’t want to lose you. ”

  “I love you too. I’m not going anywhere. We make each other better. ”

  I pull away from her. Put my hands on her hips. Dig my nails in because I need to hold her as tight as I can. And then lean forward and kiss her. It’s slow and healing. She moans and I swallow it down. Taste every part of her mouth. Give her mine. Push against her. Pull her to me.

  “I want to be someone,” I say when I pull away. “I don’t know who. I just know I don’t want to be the guy who sells weed. The one who busts his phone against a tree when he realizes he fell for a girl. Who goes to jail and takes it out on her because she’s there for his mom when he wasn’t. ”

  “You are more than that,” she tells me.

  “I don’t know if I am, but I want to be. ”

  “My mom loved me,” Cheyenne says, shocking me. “I don’t know if she meant to leave me, but she loved me. And I’m not perfect. I don’t want to be. I have panic attacks I don’t deal with, but I need to. I will. ”

  I kiss her again because she’s so fucking strong. In this moment, in the half-dark room while my mom sleeps on the bed next to us, we make our vows to each other. To stop pretending. To grow up. To do what the hell we need to do to not be the people who had to play a fucked up game of charades to fall in love.

  We’re both quiet. Mom’s breathing is the only sound in the room. We lean against the wall, holding each other.

  “I couldn’t do this without you, Tiny Dancer. ”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else. ”

  I take a couple deep breaths before saying, “I don’t want to tell her goodbye. ” But I have to. I know it. Know she’s probably waiting for it.

  “I know. I’m sorry. ”

  I kiss her again. “I know. ”

  ***

  Daylight has come and passed again. It’s the next night. Mom hasn’t woken up anymore. Maggie and the hospice nurse come in and out. Give medicine. Sad smiles. Her hand doesn’t hold mine anymore, but I try to hold on tight enough for both of us.

  I know what I need to do. Every time I open my mouth it won’t come out. So I sit here. Watching her die. Watching her suffer. Waiting.

  Mom doesn’t make any sounds beside the breaths that sound almost painful.

  Fucking do it.

  I look over at Cheyenne and she’s watching me. I try to tell her with my eyes. Let her know that I’m letting her go. She gives me a small nod.

  I’m scared to fucking death to do this, but proud too. Proud because I’m setting her free. Letting her be in the sunshine.

  I lean forward, my mouth next to her ear. My words are soft, only for her and me.

  “I lied to you last time you asked, but I want you to know, I’m happy. You never pushed me unless I needed to be pushed. You gave me everything and I swear to God, I’ll make you proud of me. For you…and for me too. I love you…” My voice breaks. The words unlock the damn that held my tears back and I finally cry. Cry for her. For me. For the whole fucking world who is losing her. “I’m happy. I’ll be okay. I’ll live for me, but for you too. You don’t have to worry about me. You can go… I have Cheyenne and I fucking love her. Christ. I shouldn’t be cursing right now, but I love her. I do. We’ll be okay. ”

  I swear her hand tightens on mine. Nothing else moves. Her breathing doesn’t change, but I know she hears me. I know she’s proud of me. I’m proud of me.

  “I love you. I’m okay,” I say again.

  I lace my fingers with hers and sit on the edge of the bed. I look at Chey and she comes over. She sits behind me, one hand on me and one on Mom.

  And we wait.

  Seconds.

  Minutes.

  Half an hour.

  Her breathing slows. Softens.

  “I’m okay,” I say again. Pick up her wrist. Kiss my name there.

  One more breath.

  I wait.

  And wait.

  She doesn’t breathe again.

  She’s gone.

  ~CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX~

  Cheyenne

  Colt’s silent as the hospice nurse makes a phone call. He’s quiet as Maggie cries. I’m scared to death he’s going to pull away. That he’s going to run. Then I feel like a jerk for even thinking about that. Bev is gone. His mom just died. He just let her go.

  “I need to get out of here,” he finally says. We leave the apartment and climb into the car. “Can you call Adrian?” He doesn’t look at me when he speaks, so he doesn’t see my nod.

  I pick up my cell, call him. “Can you make sure the house is empty?” I ask. I can understand why Colt would want to make sure no one’s there when we get home.

  “Already done,” Adrian replies.

  I don’t know how he knew, but it doesn’t matter. “Thanks. We appreciate it. ”

  “Take care of my boy,” I hear him inhale, shake my head, knowing he’s probably sucking weed into his lungs right now.

  “I will. ” I try to put the phone in the cup holder, but it falls between the seats and to the floor. I leave it. It doesn’t matter right now. Nothing does except for Colt.

  His hand is on my leg the whole way home. I wonder if he needs that connection as much as I do? To know that even though it hurts, there’s still someone by my side. And it has to be even worse for him.

  As promised, the house looks empty when we get home. Dark. The porch light isn’t even on.

  Colt lets go of my leg and gets out of the car, but doesn’t move. I wish I knew what to do for him. A way to lessen the pain.

  Getting out, I walk to the other side of the car.

  “I can’t believe she’s fucking gone. ” He leans me against my car like he did the wall earlier and holds me.

  His grip eases me. How easy would it be for him to run right now? I did when I found out about my mom and our situation was completely different. But he’s here. With me. Leaning on me and holding me.

  “I love you,” I tell him.

  “I—”

  “—Isn’t that fucking sweet?” A male voice comes from behind us. Colt instantly tenses.

  “She’s got him whipped. At least you were smart enough to keep someone fun on the side, G. ”

  Colt whips around. I feel the anger rolling off of him.

  Gregory and three of his friends stand behind us. I smell beer. One of them has a bottle in his hand that he drinks from.

  I try to wrap my arms around Colt from behind. We don’t need this right now. “Let’s just go. ”

  He shakes me off.

  “Going to listen to your girl? Don’t have a big mouth like you did the other day?” This from Gregory.

  “Please fucking hit me, Pretty Boy. I’m begging you. I won’t even fight back at first,” Colt steps forward. Again I grab his arm and he pulls away.

  “Don’t do this. ” I know this isn’t even fully about Gregory. He wants to hurt because of his mom. He wants to hurt someone else because of her. I look at Gregory and shout, “You have the worst timing ever. Leave him alone. ”

  “Get in the car, Tiny Dancer. ” Another step, but I’m right behind him.

  “What are you guys even doing here?” I stand next to Colt who again tries to push me behind him.

  “He’s always showing up where we party. Getting in our business so we thought it was time we returned the favor. ” My stomach rolls at the sound of Gregory’s voice. I can’t even believe this i
s him. Was he always like this? Something college has done to him?

  “Are we just gonna sit around and talk or did you guys come here for a reason?” Colt’s voice is tight as he eggs them on. A few steps and he’s right in front of Gregory, almost nose to nose with him. “You wanted to teach me a lesson, Pretty Boy? Do it. ” And then he pushes Gregory.

  Gregory stumbles backward.

  “What the fuck. Kick his ass, G!” One of his friends yells.

  “Don’t let that pussy get the best of you again!” Another says.

  It all happens so fast from there. Colt pushes me back as Gregory charges, hitting Colt across the middle. They both stumble. Fall backward. I watch him fall in slow motion…down…down. His head cracks loudly on the curb, Gregory on top of him. I scream, but it’s like my body’s gone into some sort of shock from disbelief. This cannot be happening.

  Colt doesn’t move.

  “Holy shit!” Gregory scrambles off him. Everything seems normal. Colt looks normal, but it’s obvious he’s not. Gregory sees it too. “It was an accident. I didn’t fucking mean it!” He’s pacing.

  Hot tears run down my face. There isn’t blood. Why isn’t there blood? I’m not sure if that’s good or not. My throat hurts, it’s raw as I scream and scream. I shove Gregory aside, drop and crawl to Colt. I touch his chest. Stomach. Want to pull his head to my lap, but don’t think I should.

  My tears hit him, puddling on his shirt. “Get help! Call someone!” I cry. Why isn’t he moving? Please let him move.

  “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” yells one of them.

  Tires squeal at the same time feet hit the ground running.

  Please don’t die, please don’t die, please don’t die. Over and over and over the words flow through my head.

  I scream, lean over and hold him. “Colt. I’m here. I’m going to get some help. ” Then I’m fighting when someone tries to pull me away from him.

  “Cheyenne!” It’s Adrian. “We need to get him to a fucking hospital. ”

  Adrian’s voice snaps me out of it. I jerk away as he lifts Colt up. His head flops to the side. “My phone. It’s in my car. ”

  “Fuck it. We’re driving him there. ”

  I run to Adrian’s car. I don’t know how I’m even going right now, but I know I have to. Have to do it for Colt.

  I rip the door open.

  “Get in,” Adrian says. He’s already laying Colt in the backseat as I try and scoot over. His head is in my lap. It doesn’t feel like there’s a big injury. I’m not sure if that matters. I keep feeling his pulse, checking his breathing.

  It feels like an eternity and at the same time, only a few seconds when we get to the hospital. I hardly remember the ride. I just hold Colt the way he held me in the car not too long ago. Tell him he’ll be okay. That I love him. Should we have moved him? What if we hurt him by moving him? Too many thoughts are slamming into me.

  Adrian’s out of the car and pulling Colt into his arms. We rush through the EMT entrance.

  “What are you—room three,” a nurse yells when she sees Colt in Adrian’s arms.

  I struggle to see through the tears blurring my vision. One of the doctors grabs Colt. They’re laying him on the bed. Two more nurses and a doctor rush in. My heart hurts. I gasp, trying to breathe.

  “Please help him. ” I try to get into the room.

  “What happened?” someone asks.

  “He was pushed and hit his head on the curb. ”

  One of them curses. “You’re going to have to get out of here. ”

  Fear spikes inside me. “No! I’m not leaving him. ” He wouldn’t leave me. I know he wouldn’t.

  “If you want to help him get out of here. Give them some information and give us space. ” They rip the curtain closed.