For some reason, it was important for me to hear her say it first. I was so obviously blindly, pathetically in love with her, I needed her to show me this meant something for her, too.
Her mouth opened. My goddamn heart was about to burst.
“Ride or die,” she whispered.
I smiled, my disappointment leaking through the cracks of my soul.
“Ride or die, Moonshine.”
On my cab ride from the San Diego airport to Todos Santos, my fingers closed into a fist around three Xanax pills. I looked out the window, willing them to crush into powder so I could slide them easily into the mouthwash I had in a Starbucks cup. The high was faster when they were powdered.
The hospital.
I was going straight to the hospital.
The cherry on the shit cake, I thought as I tossed the pills into my mouth, was Dad refusing to tell me what was up. The worst possible scenarios rolled through my mind. Mom had sounded so weak on the phone.
She really is dying.
She’s already dead.
She is brain dead.
Dead, dead, dead.
We were rich. We were healthy. We were strong. Invincible, really. So why couldn’t we stop it from happening?
I resorted to texting Aunt Em.
Knight: Just tell me she’s alive.
Emilia: She is.
Knight: Y is Dad being an asshole, then?
Emilia: Have you been taking care of yourself over there?
Uh-oh. She didn’t even give me shit for my nonexistent grammar and for cussing Dad. Not a good sign.
Knight: Tell me what to prepare myself for.
Emilia: Reality.
I hated everyone. Other than Luna, maybe, but I couldn’t talk to her before I had more information. It was the middle of the night in North Carolina now, and she had school tomorrow.
When the cab slid to the hospital curb, I stumbled out, the Xanax and alcohol already kicking it in my bloodstream. I decided it was probably a good idea to alternate between mouthwash and actual liquor when I almost threw up on the front desk while asking for Mom’s room.
The overnight receptionist directed me to the end of the hall. As I zigzagged my way there, my phone began to buzz in my pocket. I took it out, hoping Luna had a sixth sense.
Alas, it was Dixie. I sent it straight to voicemail and texted, All good, speak soon.
My dad was standing in the hallway, looking like a piece of dried toast—crumbling at the edges, completely burned out. The minute he saw me, instead of hugging me, or telling me it was good to have me back, or asking me, oh, I don’t know…how the fuck I was doing, he scowled and threw an accusing finger my way.
“You.”
“Me,” I pretended to yawn, getting near him.
Big mistake. Huge. Now he could smell the mouthwash. He wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d gone all dental-hygiene crazy in the span of a weekend.
“Nice touch, son. Showing up here reeking of alcohol when your mother is hospitalized.”
“Thanks, man. And I appreciate you keeping me in the loop as to what the fuck is going on with said mom.” I collapsed onto a blue chair outside her room.
He was right, though. She didn’t have to be healthy to know I looked like shit and smelled not much better.
“Where’s Lev?” I asked.
“At the Rexroths’.”
“Why not Aunt Em?”
“She’s on her way.”
“Look, I’m not that drunk. Can I see Mom?” I rubbed my face tiredly, closing my eyes.
“No,” he clipped, bracing his arm against the wall and looking down at his shoes.
She was asleep, then. I folded my arms, about to find a comfortable angle and call it a night. Mom could sleep for hours on end at the hospital. The shit they plugged into her, paired with the steroids, meant she went through spurts of random energy, followed by crashes and days of sleep.
I closed my eyes, mentally reminding myself to let Vaughn know I needed to bum a ride to school tomorrow morning, when Dad’s loafer kicked my shin. Not gently, either. My eyes cracked open.
“Wake up.” He balled up the collar of my shirt, yanking me to my feet.
Suddenly we were nose to nose. I narrowed my eyes at him. He’d never been physical with me before. My heart started pounding.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“You’re my problem!” he seethed, baring his teeth. “Your attitude is my problem. Your selfishness, to just up and…and…leave for a girl,” he spat the word out, his breath ragged as he flung his big arms in the air, pushing away from me. “You know what my