Page 12 of Don't Let Go

Jacob sat next to me. “It came out of nowhere,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Jacob always looked like a man with a plan. He buzzed around the house, keeping everything in order. Who sat next to me wasn’t Jacob. He stood tall at nearly six feet and always wore blue blazers no matter what. His golden-framed glasses were always clean, but now they’re smudged with fingerprints.

“What?” I wiped my cheek with the side of my hand. When did I start crying?

Jacob stared ahead at the painting of a palm tree. “After your game, James came into the office to catch up on some stuff. Wetook a break to eat some seafood from a restaurant we always ordered from. I didn’t think about how deadly the blowfish could be.” He choked on a sob. “A little while later, he looked pained, like he couldn’t breathe and clenched his chest.” Jacob had a cup of coffee in his hand, but he wasn’t drinking it. Instead, he slowly tapped his thumb on the lid. “I called 911 right away, and I thought we made it here in time…” He looked at the water stain on the ceiling. “I can’t believe this.”

“No kidding,” I said through clenched teeth, staring at my sneakers.

“It’s not your fault.” He dropped a hand on my knee. “Things happen. I don’t—”

“Save it.” I stood up, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I can’t right now.”

It didn’t make any sense. My father didn’t eat a lot of seafood, but we haven’t spent much time together since he became senator. Maybe that changed.

Jacob gathered himself and stood as if someone controlled him by strings. “Tyler, I’m here for you. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll start planning the funeral and all that in the morning. Go get some rest.” He squeezed my shoulder.

I closed my eyes, hoping this was all a nightmare. Jacob’s phone buzzed. He looked at it and then at me.

“Answer it. I’m going home.” I waved him off, turning toward the elevators.

Part of me wanted Jacob to ignore the call and offer to drive me home. I wasn’t sure if I should drive with my body shaking so much. When I reached the elevator and hit the down arrow, I knew he wasn’t following. His voice echoed down the hall as he moved further away. Maybe I was crazy, but I could’ve sworn I heard him laughing.

My brain was mush. I moved on autopilot throughout the hospital and walked outside to the parking lot feeling like I wasinfected with the zombie virus, and soon none of these aching emotions would matter because I’d be dead inside.

My stomach was left behind in that crappy plastic chair in the waiting room. No dinner tonight. I got in my car and hit the steering wheel. I hit it again and again, screaming like a lunatic.

How did life get better after this? How did kids move on after shit like this? There was no way to. There couldn’t be.

6

Aurora

After dinner, Carmen and I cleared the table and washed the dishes. When I returned to the dining room, everyone else was still seated. We weren’t having dessert, so I didn’t understand why Mamma hadn’t dismissed everyone.

Mamma looked over at Carmen and me. “Please sit down.”

I followed directions. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me or the family. Don’t worry.” She folded her hands in front of her, sitting a little straighter. “I do have news.”

Out of habit, I reached for my water glass, but it was in the kitchen. Whatever this news was made me feel parched.

“Is it about us?” Franco asked, exchanging a look with Lorenzo. “We’re doing our best, but today was slow, so we didn’t think it would hurt to play some video games. I thought—”

Mamma held up her hand. “This isn’t about you. Please let me speak.” She licked her lips and took the time to look at each of us in the eye. “It hasn’t been announced to the public yet, but Senator James Winston died today.”

“Was he murdered?” Carmen piped in, her eyes wide.

“Do we need to clean up the scene?” Lorenzo asked, pushing himself back in his chair.

Mamma slammed her fist on the table. “Silence! Let me finish.”

We all froze, afraid to even breathe.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her fingers over the creases in her forehead. “Senator Winston has a son, Tyler. If something happens to both his parents, I am to take guardianship over him.”

“Did his mamma die too?” Lizzy had to add her five cents.

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