I shake my head. “No!” My vision blurs, but I blink back the tears. “Never let them see you cry, sweetheart.”Mom’s words echo in my head.
I sniff and pull away. This time, he lets me go. “She’s fine though, right? She’s at a hospital or whatever? She’s getting treatment?” I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there looking at me with eyes full of what ...regret?
“Well?” I shout. “You can talk now. That’s why you’re here, right? Is she going to be okay?” I need to talk to my teachers. If Mom is hurt she’ll need someone to look after her. At least until she’s back on her feet. I don’t know how much time I can miss from school, but I’ll figure that out later. Aaron will—shit.I need to talk to my brother. Does he know Mom was in an accident?
“Where’s Aaron?”
“He’s at home.”
I frown. “Does he know Mom was hurt? I have to call him.”
“He knows,” Dominique says. “The hospital called him.”
Okay. Good. She’s at a hospital. That’s good. But, “Why isn’t he here? Why are you here telling me about my mom instead of him?” Anger floods my system and I latch onto it.
A tormented look flashes across his face. “He’s having a hard time with the news. I don’t...” he takes a deep breath, “He didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Is he packing at least?” I run through my mental to-do list. Pack some clothes. Notify my teachers that I have a family emergency. Book a flight to Florida. Shit.I don’t even have the new address.
I’ll figure that out once I talk to Aaron. I whirl around to go back inside. “Where are you going?”
“I need to pack.”
“Kasey!”
“Dominique. I don’t have time. If Mom is hurt, I need—”
“She didn’t make it.”
Something squeezes my chest and all the air whooshes out of my lungs. “W…what?”
My knees shake and everything suddenly sounds far away.
Dominique steps toward me, but it’s almost like he’s out of focus. My vision is dark along the edges.
“What do you mean, she didn’t make it?” My voice is quiet, almost like if I say the words too loud it will make them real. But they can’t be real. Mom is fine. She has to be fine.
“I’m so sorry,” he tells me. This time, I believe him.
“No.” I press the palm of my hand to my chest. “She can’t … no. She has to be okay. My mom,” I choke back a sob. “No. She has to be okay!”
Dominique steps closer, his hands reaching out almost like I’m a wild animal he’s afraid to spook.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not. It is not going to be okay. This is not okay!”
“Fuck. I know. I’m sorry. That was the wrong thing to say.”
I can’t breathe. I’m opening and closing my mouth, trying to suck in air, but it’s like my lungs have stopped working. I’m like a fish stuck on shore and I can’t fucking breath.
“Kasey? Fuck. Kasey!”
A large hand forces my head between my knees. I didn’t realize I’d fallen to the ground. “Breath, baby girl. In and out. That's good. Take another breath.”
I try to focus on his words, but my chest hurts. It really really hurts.
