Page 28 of Landon & Shay: Part One

“Sorry, Land. I wish I was with you. Left my credit card so you can order in food. You can call the chef, too. The number is on the fridge. I’ll check in every morning and night. Make sure you’re getting enough sleep, too. You need your rest. Also, don’t forget to take your pills. I love you so much, honey. We’ll chat soon. I love you. Okay. Bye.”

She always said ‘I love you’ twice.

Dad texted me instead of leaving a voice message. His was a much more encouraging message.

Dad:We Harrison men aren’t weak. Keep your head up high. Man up.

You got it, Dad.

If there was a bumper sticker for World’s Best Father, it definitely wouldn’t have been on Ralph Harrison’s BMW.

I knew if I ditched my meeting with Mrs. Levi, she’d report it to my parents, and Mom would try to set me up with my previous therapist for after-school sessions. I didn’t know about any other high school student, but the last thing I wanted to do after a long day at school was go to some smelly, stuffy office and talk about my feelings to a sixty-year-old man who had probably just banged his secretary during his lunch hour.

I satin Mrs. Levi’s office once again, staring at the pictures of her niece and nephew spread throughout the space.

She was smiling her normal smile with her hands clasped together and resting in her lap. “So, Landon, how was your weekend?”

“Same as always.”

“I heard a few mumbles in the hallways about a party you threw…” She started, but her words trailed off as if she didn’t want to seem to be nosey when she was, indeed, being nosey.

“Yeah. Just a small thing.” Lie number one of our meeting.

“Do you want to talk about how that was?”

Yes, Mrs. Levi. Let me tell you all about the underage drinking and drug usage that went on at my place on Saturday.

“Nah, it’s not a big deal. It was a low-key night.”

She narrowed her eyes but dropped the subject as she shifted some paperwork around. She seemed tired that morning, but who wasn’t? Maybe she had trouble sleeping each night, too. The bags under her eyes kind of matched the deep purplish tones of my own.

“So, your birthday is in a few weeks, huh?”

I cringed a little at the mention of my birthday. I was trying my hardest to forget.

When I remained quiet, she kept talking, because if there was one thing Mrs. Levi wasn’t any good at, it was catching a hint.

“Which means it’s been one year since your uncle—”

“Died on my birthday? Yes, Mrs. Levi, I’m aware,” I snapped. I instantly felt bad for snapping, because it wasn’t her fault at all. She was merely doing her job. It just sucked that her job hurt sometimes. It brought up issues I wished to bury deep in my mind. I muttered an apology, and she shook her head.

“No need to apologize. I’d probably feel the same way if an old woman was badgering me about such a heavy topic.”

Mrs. Levi wasn’t that old. She more so had an old-person personality. I would have bet she knit sweaters and drank apple cider in front of the fireplace on Saturday nights.

I slumped down in my chair, and now my mind was doing that thing again.

Thinking.

I hated when that happened.

My thoughts were back on that day. Every time I blinked, I saw Lance in the darkness of my eyelids. I saw him lying there, floating face down in the pool, the water rippling all around as he stayed still.

“Lance,” I remembered hollering. “Lance!”

Each time the memories came, my throat tightened a little more.

“What do you have planned for your birthday?” Mrs. Levi asked, breaking my mind from spiraling deeper, but her question wasn’t going to make me feel any better.

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