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His eyes widened. “What?”
“What happened to you? Forget the drugs. What happened to make you hate Theo? No. You don’t hate him. You want to hate him. Even though you do care.”
“Didn’t I ask—”
“Arty, I won’t say anything. I just want to understand—”
“You can’t understand!” he yelled. “No matter what you do, no matter what you say, you can’t fucking understand. No one can! Every last one of you gets on my nerves, goddamn it. It’s always about protecting Theo. Helping Theo. Well, I did my part, okay? I took it so he didn’t have to. He got my parents and I got his.”
“What do you mean you got his?”
He frowned, and a tear ran down the side of his face. I wondered if this was how Theo saw me, right before I took those pills. Did I look this broken?
“Please—”
“Theo’s birth mother is dead. The only parent he has left is his father, whom he never sees. So how did you have his parents?”
Arty just glared. “He should be thankful he never spent time with his father. God knows what he would have done to him too… or even Walt. I could handle it. Those two…he would have broken them…he would have never stopped.”
“Arty.” My mouth dropped open, and I wasn’t sure what to say. I connected the dots and wished I hadn’t.
“You said you wanted to help Theo? Well, go back to your room, pretend you never spoke to me, that you never heard anything, and just forget—”
“Arty, you need—”
“Felicity, if you tell him, if you tell any of them, you will break him and my family. Everything will come shattering down around us. My mom. My father. Just forget. I’m getting help my way, so just forget.”
I couldn’t speak, but I felt myself cry for him.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the world seemed to open underneath me and I fell further down again.
I thought of what would happen to Theo if I told him.
“I won’t say anything.”
Sunday
Staring at my own reflection in the mirror, I sat up perfectly still on top of the bed.
“Are you all right?” Theo sat beside me.
Glancing to him, I felt better and worse at the same time. He looked so happy for me. He had a smile on his lips, and I wanted to smile along with him, but all I could think of was Arty.
“Felicity?” He reached over and cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear on my face. “What’s wrong?”
I wanted to tell him the truth.
“It’s dumb.” I faked a smile instead of wiping my eyes. “They have to shave the side of my head today.”
“You’ve never been that vain before.” He frowned.
“No one ever tried to shave my head before,” I joked. Urgh, I was horrible liar. Luckily there was knock on the door and a nurse came in holding a tray of scissors, shaving cream, and a razor.
“Give us a moment—”
“No, it’s okay. I’m good.” I stopped him. I didn’t want to put this off for another second.
He gave me a look but stood from the bed, leaning in to kiss my ear before whispering, “Shaved head or no shaved head, you’re always beautiful to me.”
