Page 113 of Forever We Fall

I lean forward. “Look at me, Arlo.”

His stunning, sad eyes find me, and I would do anything, give anything, endure anything to see them happy again.

“Get some rest. I’ll be right here. Tomorrow, we’ll get to go home.”

He searches my face and offers me a sweet smile. “Lay your head by me?”

“Absolutely.” I scoot the chair closer and lie my upper half on the edge of the bed and my head near his.

“I’m scared.” His eyes close. His face contorts with a pain that has little to do with his injuries. “I’m scared I fucked it all up so much. I broke us. I don’t want to lose you.”

“We both did some breaking. But we’ll mend. Right now, we’re stronger than ever. You will never lose me, Arlo. No matter what, you never will.”

There isn’t a naive bone in my body, yet I am so fucking naive.

I grip my cell phone so hard, it might crumble in my hand. Kinda like my life.

How fitting?

My father’s tirade continues a string of Japanese spoken so fast that even I struggle to comprehend it. I wonder if he even knows what he’s saying.

A few keywords stand out, though.

Haji. Kai nashi. Baka.

Shame. Worthless. Stupid.

Mostly, I tune him out. Something heavier than his disappointment weighs on my chest.

Arlo’s withdrawal.

He may not lose me, but I’m losing him. One piece at a time.

Somehow, it hurts worse this way.

And that’s where my apparent naïveté comes in. I’d expected this incident to bring us closer together. Like his cutting episode last year. It had been the catalyst for our touching, for our bonding, for our physical exploration.

No matter how short-lived.

While he’d spent three full days in the hospital, true to my word, I’d been by his side.

I’d held his hand and placed cool washcloths on his head. I’d hushed loud nurses and kept the room nice and dim. I’d told him stories and read him his favorite poems. I’d slept with my head on his thigh and his fingers threaded through my hair.

Then he’d been questioned. Then he’d been discharged.

After that, everything fell away piece by piece.

First, his nightmares came back with a vengeance.

Then Phillips’s family attorney had knocked the second chunk loose, threatening me with assault charges. Of course, I didn’t blink. I simply explained that if they wanted to go to court, Arlo’s attorney, one that didn’t exist, would happily bring charges of attempted murder against Phillip.

With Arlo’s injuries, the physical evidence, and witnesses, it wouldn’t be hard to prove.

That shut them up.

The last straw seemed to be the fine. No matter your role, if you were involved with a fight, you were fined, if not expelled. It was what kept the school full of testosterone-addled boys and young men from devolving into utter chaos. That’s the school’s stance anyway. Personally, I just think they like the extra funds.

The fee wiped out Arlo’s savings. For me, it means enduring this phone call that seemed to go on and on and round and round about my lack ofanypositive qualities.

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