A Much Younger Man - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,10
problem.” He glanced away, embarrassed. “I told him I wouldn’t stick with him if he used, but he’s been acting off lately, and I knew something was up. I guess he scored last night. We got into it, and I said I wasn’t having it. When I woke up, everything was gone.”
Shit. “Is there any chance he’s just blowing off some steam.”
He shook his head. Poor kid. “No.”
His blue eyes, now ringed red with misery, streamed. I felt like I should smooth down his hair or something. I didn’t.
“Does he even play the guitar?” I asked.
“No.” Beck huffed a bitter laugh. “He’ll sell it. I worked for a year to get that guitar, and he’ll use the cash to get high.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“What will I do? That guitar is…everything. It’s all I have.”
“What about your family? Will they help you?”
He shook his head. “It’s only Mom and my stepdad. They were adamant. If I didn’t take Callie to a shelter, I had to leave.”
“Oh, Beck. I’m sorry. But she’s a beautiful animal. I’m certain she would find a loving home right away.” My words were callous, but rehoming Callie had to be better than a life on the street.
“So I should just get rid of her?” he asked, outraged.
“Beck, God knows I love animals, but I don’t think you being homeless because you want a dog is good for either you or the dog.”
He put his head in his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“Why should I? You won’t listen. Nobody listens.” He rose and gave Callie’s leash a flick. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” I caught his arm. “I understand you love her—”
“It’s not about me.” He pushed me away. “Callie was my half brother, Bryce’s, dog.”
“And your parents said he couldn’t keep her?”
“Bryce died.” He practically shouted the words. “Bryce is dead, and now my stepfather can’t even stand to look at Callie—”
“Wait. What?” My mind reeled. “Your half brother is dead? What happened?”
Beck sank into his chair. “Bryce had acute myeloid leukemia. AML accounts for only about twenty percent of diagnosed cases, and it’s tougher to beat than other types of the disease.”
“I’m so sorry, Beck. That’s awful.”
He glanced away. “About three years ago, Bryce went into remission, and we all thought…I guess we let ourselves believe the danger was over, you know?”
I got up to get him a bottle of water because I couldn’t bear the gut-level despair in his eyes.
“I’m the one who got the dog for him. When he was sick, we had to be so careful of germs, and he didn’t have much of a life. I mean, he did. He had the three of us and all the medical personnel. He made friends with kids in the oncology ward. But he didn’t really get to play in the park, or run, or do Boy Scouts, or hang around with school friends. He was in pain. He had to live like that for so long.”
I nodded that I understood.
“When he went into remission, I asked Mom and Roger if I could get Bryce a dog, and they said they thought it was a good idea. And it was. Bryce loved Callie. He spent every free minute training her and playing with her. He and Callie had two and a half good years together. Then some tests came back fucked up. He didn’t make it.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Not just mine. For a long time, Callie was devastated without him.” He took a deep breath through his nose. “The last thing he said to me, the very last thing, was ‘take care of Callie.’”
“But then your stepfather said you couldn’t keep her?”
He nodded. “He couldn’t stand to even look at Callie. Or me either, I guess. We’d never really gotten along. I was still there, but his son died. It wasn’t hard to see that every time he looked at me, he wished it was me.”
“What about your mother? Surely she’ll want you back, even with the dog. She’s had plenty of time to think about things. She’s probably worried sick.”
“I don’t think seeing us is any easier on her, although I doubt she wishes I’d died. She says I’m an adult, and it’s either the dog or me. I think she’s just numb and doesn’t want to deal with anything anymore.”
“I think maybe you have no choice. At least with your guitar you were making money. Without it…”
He shook his head. “I had a job, you know. I was