Lane nodded and went. My shower was quick, focused on getting myself clean and not letting my thoughts wander.
I put on a pair of boxer briefs and shorts, then went to the attic, pausing only to flip the lock. If somehow we ended up in each other’s arms, I didn’t want to get caught.
Our parents must have taken the bedding up earlier. Lane was already sitting down, pillows propping him up against the back of the couch. There was an open spot beside him, but… “Is there a reason there are no pillows there?”
“Yes, I took them.”
I tossed my bag beside the couch and chuckled. “You’re such a brat.”
“I know you are, but what am I?”
“Did we go backward in time tonight? First the I’m-rubber-and-you’re-glue comment, and now this?”
“It feels like it a little, doesn’t it?” The corners of his lips turned down.
Yeah, yeah it did.
The couch was against the wall, beneath the window. There was a nightstand on Lane’s side, with a lamp on it, the little differences in our space bothering me even though I had no right for them to.
I hit the main light, but Lane’s lamp was still on. The moon was high in the sky, shining through the window and the partway open curtains. “What is Scenes from the Attic?” I asked. I hadn’t since I’d heard about it.
“It’s an emotional series. Silhouettes of people in the distance, but all of them through a four-pane window. It relies on color for mood—the sky, clouds, rain, sunshine or not, all hopefully bringing out the emotion of those silhouettes in the background. It sold for…a lot of money. I can show it to you online.”
“It sounds beautiful.”
“I think it was meant for you…or because my time here with you was so important to me, even though I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. I just thought I loved the attic, not that I loved the attic because you spent time with me here.”
“Who’s the teddy bear now?” I asked, trying not to let him see how much that meant to me.
“You,” Lane replied.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” I grinned. “I know it’s early, but I’m going to sleep.”
“I want to draw for a while. Will the light keep you awake?”
“No.” The sound of his pencil scratching against paper was always relaxing, and I’d slept many times in this space with lights on and Lane drawing me.
I knelt on the mattress, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth while jerking two pillows from behind his back. “Gotcha!” I winked.
“You’re a cheater.”
“They’re my pillows! You already have two.”
“First come, first served,” he joked back.
I curled up onto my side, facing him. Lane grabbed a sketchbook and pencil from his bag. I watched his gentle, skilled hand; focused on the sound that accompanied Lane and his art. It didn’t take me long to drift into blackness.
“Want to play a little longer?” my friend Darnell asked me.
It was time to head home, but I knew I wouldn’t get into too much trouble if I was only a few minutes late. We were having a lot of fun playing at the park. “Only like ten minutes, and then I need to go.”
“Okay, cool!”
It ended up being twenty before I finally pulled myself away from the game. Ugh. I hated it, that I had to be home at a certain time. That Mom wanted me to learn responsibility and stuff like that. Why couldn’t I just enjoy myself?
But then, I knew I was lucky too. My mom was my favorite person in the whole world, and she told me every day that I was hers. All my friends always said how awesome she was. She always baked cookies and played games with us. When we had sleepovers, it was always at my house.
I ran all the way home. The TV was going softly when I burst through the front door. I waited to hear Mom call out, as she always did, “Is that my Isaac?” And I’d sneak up on her and try to scare her. But it didn’t come.
“Mama! Sorry I’m late.” I peeked into the living room, and she wasn’t there. “Mama!” I called out again, started to run toward the kitchen, but stopped to take my shoes off because she didn’t like them in the house.
We were supposed to make a cake for Dad before dinner. I’d forgotten about that, and hoped she hadn’t started without me.
I turned into the kitchen, my socks making me slide across the floor. I tried to catch myself but couldn’t, my heart clenching for a second as I went down, as I looked over, as I saw her lying on the kitchen floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lane
“No,” Isaac said, his voice hushed but panicked beside me. “I’m sorry. Mama, wake up. I’m so sorry.”
My heart dropped at the familiar words, but ones I hadn’t heard from him since we were teenagers. I brushed the back of my hand against his cheek, then shook his shoulder. “Isaac, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
I’d woken him up like that many times before, and just like those other times, his eyes immediately jerked open, his watery gaze landing on me. I could tell he’d been upset today, but it was worse after his father’s speech, and even more after his shower. I silently cursed myself for not pushing more, for not getting him to talk to me about it because if I’d pressed the topic, he would have. Instead, I’d tried to tease him and be playful with him, but his memories and misplaced guilt found him anyway.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, trying to turn away from me.
“Hey…where are you going? This is me. You’ve never had to hide from me.” I went down on my side, leaned in and kissed away the single tear on his right cheek, then swiped my tongue across the one on his left before kissing there too.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your drawing. I don’t know why I had a nightmare tonight.”
I frowned. “You don’t ever have to apologize for that. There’s no place I’d rather be than here for you when you need me.”
He gave me a sad smile, tried to pretend he wasn’t as upset as he was. “You’re a little too obsessed with me.”
“You’re doing it again. You’re trying to pretend with me when you know you never have to.” Not with us. I’d never wanted him to have to do that with me. When I leaned in again, my hair fell forward and brushed across his forehead. “I always see you, Isaac.” I kissed the corner of his mouth.
“I know.”
“You wanna tell me what’s wrong instead of saying nothing this time?”
He shook his head, but he would anyway. I knew he would. He didn’t want to like sharing with me, but he did. “I think it was everything…family being here, our secret, what my dad said before dinner, and then Grandma mentioned Mom too, and…fuck.” He tried to turn away again, but I held his face, kept his eyes on me.
“I don’t want us to make things harder for you. What do you need me to do?”
“Tell me it will be okay.”
“We’ll be okay,” I replied because we would be. No matter what happened.
“I don’t…I don’t want to lose another mom,” he admitted, and my heart broke for him, shattered into a million pieces, scattered around inside my chest.