Page 49 of Collide

“We’re here to see Lawson,” I explain instead, and Gage’s brows pinch in question. My palms sweat. I’m not as worried about the fact I’ve kept Lawson from him as I’m worried Gage won’t understand Lawson. Luella nods and leads us to the extra-large living room. She excuses herself, and I take a breath as Gage looks around the room. A large circular couch in white. White brick chimney above a white brick fireplace. White walls. White tile. White. White. White. It’s so sterile my skin crawls. Wheels squeak down the hall.

Gage looks at me and then at the entrance of the hallway behind the fireplace when a large wheelchair with a grown man comes into view. His finger curl on one hand, his arms permanently raised to his chin. His mouth hangs open in what I call his smile. His other hand rests on the tray across the wheel. His knees turn inward. His feet crossed on top of each other.

Gage turns to me for explanation, and I swallow.

“Gage Everly, this is my younger brother. Lawson Carrigan.” Gage turns from me and looks back at Lawson, whose head rolls on the headrest of his chair. The nurse stands behind Lawson, waiting out his mood for the day. It’s hard to tell as he isn’t verbal. “He has severe cerebral palsy.”

Gage doesn’t look at me but watches my brother.

“He was born like that.”

“I’d never heard you had a brother.”

“My mother kept him a secret. She didn’t want the press using him or turning him into something he wasn’t. She worried they wouldn’t be compassionate about him. Sometimes, I think it was all an excuse. She didn’t want people to judge her. She claims his father was a roadie, and it painted her as a wayward singer. I have my own suspicions who he belongs to, but no one’s ever confirmed it for me.” He doesn’t ask me who I think Lawson’s father is, and I’m relieved as that isn’t my focus. I’m watching his reaction to my brother.

“Can he hear me?” Gage asks, turning his attention back to Lawson.

“He can hear, but he can’t speak. He has an assistive device for minimal communication.”

Gage walks over to my brother, swiping his hands on his jeans as he crosses the room.

“Hello, Lawson,” he addresses him in a voice a little too loud. “I’m Ivy’s friend, Gage.”

My chest pinches at the word friend, but any other word would be too complicated to explain to Lawson. A moan comes from his open mouth, and his head wags again. Gage looks at me for direction, and I walk over to them.

“Lawson knows I’m pregnant,” I say to Gage, although speaking of Lawson in third person. “I’m going to be a mother,” I address Lawson. I don’t say Mom as this makes my brother cry sometimes, and I can’t handle a meltdown from him today. I’ll have to explain this to Gage later. I’ll have so much to explain when Lawson is no longer in the room. “I brought Gage here to meet you today. He’s been visiting me at school where I’m learning to play music.” Lawson’s arm bounces, and I wish I had the rhythm sticks he loves with me.

“Lawson’s the reason I went into music therapy,” I say to Gage as I reach out to hold Lawson’s curled fingers. “When I was little, I’d bang these rhythm sticks together. I’m not musically inclined, despite Tommy and my mother, but Lawson would laugh in his way when I played them. Like he enjoyed the music I made for him. Later, we learned he did like the beat. This made my mother proud.” I pause.

We’re all quiet a moment.

“Connie,” I address the nurse. “Can you give us a couple of minutes, and then maybe we can have lunch with Lawson?”

Lawson nods his head as if he agrees with lunch, and Connie tugs Lawson’s chair backward. Gage rises from his crouched position. He watches Lawson disappear, and then he turns to me. Questions fill his eyes.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about him, but you have to swear you’ll never tell anyone about him. I should have had you sign an NDA or a gag order or something before I brought you here.” I panic a moment, worrying I’ve made a mistake. What if Gage tells someone? Tommy and I agreed we’d do all we could to keep Lawson a secret to honor my mother.

“I only want to know why you didn’t mention him before, but a gag order? Jesus, Ivy, don’t you trust me?” He stares at me, swiping a hand through his hair and holding a portion at the back of his neck. His other hand slips into his front pocket.

“It isn’t that. It’s just…she blamed herself for his condition. Drinking. Smoking. Possibly had drugs in her system when she became pregnant. There was no way to know what caused this to happen to him, but it didn’t matter. We love him as he is, but my mother especially. Lawson was her secret. The one thing they’d never know, and she liked it that way. She loved him for it.”

“I get that, but why not tell me?” His voice rings with hurt.

“In some ways, I feel like it’s not my secret to share. I’d tell the world if I thought it would make a difference, but I don’t think it will. They’ll ridicule her from the grave, and who knows how they’ll play out Lawson. Not to mention, we aren’t clear on who his father is, but what if the press finds out? It’d be a field day for no reason.”

Gage stares at me. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

I glance away, looking at the large picture window to the side of the fireplace. The bright light emphasizes the white.

“There’s a possibility my baby could be like Lawson.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been tested, but there isn’t really a test to determine if it will happen or not. It’s a possibility, but so far, the doctors seem to believe I’m in good health, taking care of myself and the baby, and it isn’t likely. Still…” My voice drifts. There are no guarantees.

Gage continues to stare at me, processing what I’ve said. His brows pinch in concentration. Then his face morphs to anger.

“You think I won’t marry you because the baby might turn out like him?” He points from my belly to the hallway, and he’s shouting. The burst of anger startles me and echoes through the hollow feel of the room. He might be angrier than the fight we had in Seattle. His chest heaves, and I wrap my arms around myself, finding the move to be unconscious and the stance protective.

“I still want to marry you, Ivy.” He strokes fingers throw his hair, tugging at the back. “I want to have the baby.” He points again at my belly. “And I want to love you all the days of my life, but right now, I’m so angry you’d think this of me. Think I wouldn’t accept the risk. The baby. No matter what.” He huffs again, blowing out air through his lips. His hurt hurts me.

“Why, Gage? Can you tell me why you want to marry me? Love me, yes. Live with me, sure, but marriage?”