“I’ve been told.”
We get Iris’ chair up the stairs, stopping in the middle of their bedroom.
“We can leave it here for now,” Nate says, rolling his shoulders. “She’s gonna make me try it in about ten different spots before she decides on the first one anyway.” He complains, even though I know he doesn’t mind one bit to move the furniture wherever she wants it. “You should’ve seen her with the couch this morning.”
I try to laugh, but it doesn’t come out right, so I turn toward the window and look out at the backyard that Iris mentioned when she told me about the house.
“Hey. You good?”
“Yeah.” I keep looking at the yard.
“Alex,” he sighs. And I can hear him move closer, settling against the dresser. “You’ve been acting funny all day. I figured it was the stuff with Mike, but you still seem—”
“It’s nothing,” I interrupt.
“Come on, man, you gotta give me something.”
The yard is empty right now, but who knows. In a year, it could have a garden, or a fire pit, or maybe even a baby swing. Everything Nate deserves, and I want that for them, but—
“I don’t want to lose you,” I say, and once I start, I can’t seem to stop. “I know that’s stupid. I know I’m twenty years old and I’m supposed to be fine, and I have Mike and school and I’m not a kid anymore, but—”
“Alex—”
“But you’re selling the house.” I’ve been holding it together all day, but I guess I’ve reached my limit. “You’re starting a family, you’re gonna have a baby, and everything is already different. And I want all that for you, but I—” I pause, searching for a way to say what I need to without sounding like the most selfish asshole on earth.
“I still need you. And I know I’m supposed to be okay by now, but I’m not. And I’m gonna get left behind while you start your real family, and I’m—” my voice cracks, and I shake my head, stopping before I dig myself into a bigger hole.
He crosses the room in three steps, and tugs on my shoulder to make me face him. As soon as I see the look on his face, I hate myself for every word I just said. He looks like I reached into his chest and crushed his heart.
“Come here,” he says. “I want to show you something.” He heads toward the door, and I follow him, down the hall, past the bathroom, to the door at the end of the hall.
The room is empty, with plain walls and light coming through the window, a clean carpeted floor, same as the rest of the upstairs. It’s smaller than the main bedroom, but still a good size.
And in the middle are my boxes.
The ones Mike and I packed this morning, full of the things from my room. I assumed they were going into storage, and I didn’t say anything about it, even though the thought made my throat close up.
“A room for you was a requirement for both of us,” Nate says. “So you could come home whenever you needed to, and there would be a place for you.”
I walk around the room, looking atmy room,with my stuff already in it.
“Any baby we have,” Nate continues, “is joiningourfamily. Nobody’s being replaced. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I loveyouany less.”
“Nate—”
“I should have told you that from the beginning,” he says. “I should have sat down with you and asked how you were feeling about it, and I didn’t do that, and that’s on me.”
I shake my head. “It’s not your fault I’m—”
“Let me finish.” I close my mouth.
“You’re my son,” he says, “in every way that matters. I raised you. I revolve every plan that I make for my future aroundyou.And if I ever made you feel like that wasn’t the case, then I am so sorry, Alex.” His voice goes a little on the last sentence. Nate. Who I haven’t seen cry since I was lying in a hospital bed and he didn’t know if I would be okay.
I can’t hold it together anymore.
Everything I’ve been holding in since they started talking about moving and babies anddoes he treat you rightbubbles to the surface, and I let him hug me tight, the way he used to when I was young. “You’re not losing me, you hear me?”
I nod, my voice too unsteady to say anything.
