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Chapter Six
Ihadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, and my body was starting to feel it. It didn’t matter though. I didn’t have the luxury of being able to sleep.
“You should try and eat some dinner,” I said to Mikey.
My mother and I had a system. One of us always stayed with Mikey. She worked during the day as a waitress at one of the local diners, and I worked at the club in the evenings. It worked. At least, it had.
“I’m not hungry,” Mikey said. His weak voice slid into my heart like a knife. He was getting worse, and it was becoming more and more obvious as the days passed.
I spooned some macaroni out of the bowl and shoveled it into my mouth with great ceremony, hoping that I was doing a good job at making it seem delicious. “Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s actually pretty good. I think the water makes it creamier.”
The food tasted like ash in my mouth, but I was sure that that had more to do with the fact that I had been on edge all day rather than the fact that we didn’t have any milk.
“I’m okay,” he said.
I smiled. “Alright.” I reached out and grabbed his bowl. “I’m sure mom will want some when she gets home.”
Mikey’s doctor told us that this would happen. His latest treatments had failed, and we were running out of options. Mikey had a brain tumor and only a small chance of beating it. I felt tears well in my eyes as I thought about it.
“Don’t you have to get ready for work?” he asked. “You’ve been late a lot lately.”
I froze over the stove as I placed the remains of the food into a pot. I’d made a whole box, which was not an economic use of our supplies, but I’d been distracted when I’d dumped the pasta into the water.
“I’m not going to work tonight.” I felt my hands trembling as I spoke. “I took the night off.”
There was a long pause, so long, that I glanced behind me to see if Mikey was alright.
“Did you get fired?” he asked.
I shook my head a tight smile on my lips. Technically, I wasn’t lying. I hadn’t been fired, but I’m sure I would be if I ever went back to the club. I managed to get away from the man in the alley, and I wasn’t desperate enough to press my already bad luck.
“You work too hard,” Mikey said.
I looked at him. His sweet, innocent face was downturned in a frown. “And I know that it’s because of me.”
“What?”
Mikey looked down at the table. He was tracing a letter with his finger in the grain of the old wood. It was something that he did when he was upset, which happened a lot these days. Mikey used to be a typical boy. He liked video games and sports. Now, he didn’t have the energy to hold the controller for more than an hour at a time.
“If I wasn’t sick, you wouldn’t be stuck here.”
I reached out and softly cupped Mikey’s cheeks with my hands “Hey,” I tilted his head up slightly so he was looking at me. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
He pulled his face out of my hands. “I’m not a baby,” he told me. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know you hate it here. I know that you have to stay because of me.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I’m here because I love you,” I told him. I didn’t know what else to say. He was right. I would have dipped out of this depressing hellhole years ago, but I couldn’t.
Mikey pushed himself up from his chair and grabbed his cane. These days he was struggling to walk on his own.
“Mikey…” I called out.
“I’m going to my room,” he told me. “I’m tired.”
I didn’t know if he was lying, so I let it go. Mikey was thirteen, which meant he was dealing with the usal preteen moodiness, but it was made worse by the fact that he was battling something that no kid his age should have to.
The door to the apartment opened with a bang, snapping me back to attention. I was more on edge than normal, and every little thing startled me today.
“I’m sorry,” my mother said, as she rushed inside. “I had a table that wouldn’t leave, and I needed the tip.”
