Page 98 of Heartache Duet

“When a man ejaculates—”

“Oh, my God, NO!” I throw my pillow at his head. “Get out!”

FORTY-ONE

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“I’m not hungry,” Mom says, her tone flat as she stares at the wall. It’s the fifth day in a row she’s refusing to eat breakfast, and I really don’t know why I bother getting up when I do.

I cower when I drop the spatula and pan in the sink louder than expected. The last thing I want is to wake Trevor. “You have to eat, Mama,” I say, turning to her. “Krystal says you haven’t been eating much throughout the day.” And she’s losing weight, fast. I can see it in the hollow of her cheeks and the way her clothes seem to droop against her body. There are dark circles around her eyes from her lack of decent sleep. The doctors had prescribed some sleep meds for her, but she wakes up foggy and out of sorts and her reaction to that is far worse than the constant waking throughout the night. I try to assure myself that it’s just a phase and that as soon as they work out the right cocktail of medications to help her both physically and emotionally, we’ll be able to move on. I might even get a positive day out of her at some point.

Mom sighs heavily, pushing away the plate I’d just made up for her. “Where are my cigarettes?”

“You don’t smoke, Mama.”

Her gaze flits to mine before going back to the wall. “Buy me cigarettes on your way home from school, okay?”

“I can’t,” I tell her, trying to keep my composure. But inside me, something is ticking, ticking, ticking. “I’m not old enough.”

She blinks. Slowly. “Then I’ll have William get them.”

“William—” I exhale, my hands at my sides. I need to calm down. My getting frustrated will just set her off. “William doesn’t live with us anymore.”

Another slow blink, and then the tiniest hint of a smile. “He’ll be back.”

I should tell her that he won’t. That he’s remarried. That he has a new wife and new stepkids and that all of this was too much for him. That it might be too much for me, too. “Can I make you something else to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you should at least try to get something in your stomach, Mama.”

“Where are my cigarettes?”

My head drops forward, my shoulders lifting with the force of my inhale. I squat down beside her, hold her hand in mine. And then I push down the knot in my throat, kiss the scars that created this stranger. “I’ll get them on the way home from school, okay?”

CONNOR

I knock on the door of Coach’s office and wait for him to look up from whatever he’s reading. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at his watch. “You’re going to be late to first period.”

“I know,” I say. “I was hoping to talk to you in private.”

He settles back in his chair, his arms crossed. “If it’s about the suspension—”

“It’s not,” I interrupt. “I know what I did, and the punishment stands.”

Nodding, he motions to a seat on the other side of the desk. “Let’s talk.”

Nervous energy swarms through my bloodline as I take a seat, my knees bouncing.

“What’s got you on edge?” he asks, eyeing me.

“Nothing.” I lie. “Well, yeah. Something.”

“Spit it out, kid.”

“I need your help,” I rush out. “I mean, I’d like some extra help. Please. Whatever you can offer me. I need to start focusing more on basketball, or else…” I take a breath. “I’m not getting any offers, Coach, and I need to do something about it.”

He laughs once, closing the newspaper in front of him. He trashes it under his desk, then opens his drawer, pulling out a pile of envelopes three inches thick. “These are letters of interest,” he deadpans.

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