The First Last Boy (15 page)

*

RYAN

Tana wouldn’t answer her phone. When I arrived at her house, I knocked on the door until my knuckles were raw but there was no answer. I leaned my forehead against the siding and yelled her name. Silence. I shivered when the wind blew a gust of rain across the porch and the water hit the back of my neck. The neighbor across the street had filled us in on what happened to Tana’s mom. “Chanos is going to pay for this,” I said.

Juvante’s hand gripped my shoulder.

Lifting my head, I stared at him. He had to know as much as I did that this was my fault. Chanos hitting Rat. My brothers taking the drugs. Tana’s mom lying in a hospital. It was because of me that Chanos had touched their lives. More than getting his drugs or money, Chanos had to protect his reputation. A gang leader that didn’t deal with disrespect quickly was a toe tag waiting to happen courtesy of someone wanting to move up the ranks. Killing Rat was a message. Shooting Tana’s mom was the postscript on that message and was meant for my brothers through me.

I turned and sat against the front door. I wanted to go to the hospital and see Tana. Be there for her to lean on, but I didn’t know if my presence would only upset her more and I’d already caused enough damage. I didn’t want to tear her apart any more than I already had. I swore silently that I’d do whatever it took to make this right by her and told Juvante as much. “Even if Chanos wasn’t the one to pull the trigger, he knows who did.”

Juvante eased down beside me. “I know what you’re thinking, but if you take Chanos out, you can kiss your life goodbye.” He shook his head. “You’ll do hard time.”

“Do you think I give a fuck?”

“How’s that going to help Tana? She needs you around more than ever.”

Guilt, as big ass and heavy as a semi, backed up and rolled onto my shoulders. Thanks to my fucktard brothers, my past had done this to Tana’s life. I’d been afraid my past would somehow cause her hurt. I should have stayed away from her. I could have walked away.

“Mama Leena,” Juvante warned seconds before her minivan swept into the driveway.

Worry, anger, and fear made crossroads on her face. “What happened?”

“Tana’s mom was shot in a drive by,” I said.

“That’s what I heard. Who did this? You know what I’m talking about now don’t play me.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at the two of us.

Finally, I said, “I think it was Chanos.”

“That’s what I thought you were going to say. We’re going to let the police handle this.”

“The police tried to handle Chanos’ brother and now Chanos for years, Mama. We can talk about it, but that’s not going to solve anything and neither are the police.” Juvante rose to put his arm around Mama Leena. “You know that’s the truth.”

Mama Leena ignored Juvante and patted my shoulder. “She needs you, Ryan.”

“We had a fight. She made it clear she doesn’t want to see me.”

“Oh, son.” She sighed. “You listen to me and go to the hospital. Whatever’s going on between you and her, doesn’t matter at this second.”

I rose and stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans, unable to meet her gaze. “I made her hate me.”

“You can’t run away emotionally every time you cause someone pain, Ryan. All relationships have their good and their bad. You have to stay and fight through it. Go on. I’ll pick up Destiny and we’ll meet you at the hospital.”

I nodded even though I knew there was nothing I could do to salvage my relationship with Tana even if I wanted to. Her hating me was for the best, but Mama Leena was right about one thing. Tana needed me and that’s all I needed to know.

Chapter Thirteen

TANA

The hours moved with the speed of a snail. Medically-induced coma. For now, the doctor had said in a jumble of words that sounded like he spoke a foreign language. I leaned back against the hard plastic of the chair, my fingers holding onto the paper cup of coffee like they didn’t belong to my body. All around me the sounds and sights of the hospital bustled with life. I couldn’t grasp how everything was business as usual when a huge part of my life lay in the recovery room. What an oxymoron. Why call it a recovery room if there was no promise of recovery?

“Tana?”

Ryan. Rumpled. Exhausted. His eyes dark with an emotion that I couldn’t read. He slid into the seat next to me and I wouldn’t look at him. I was too close to the edge, too close to falling to pieces and I didn’t want his pity. After a second, he took my hand, threading his fingers in between mine. I let him because even though I was still hurt by the way he’d blown me off after we’d been together, his presence comforted me.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like you caused it.” I set the cup down and glanced at him.

He winced, looked at the floor and took a deep breath. “What did the doctor say?”

I repeated what I’d been told.

“She’ll be okay,” he said.

I nodded, but scoffed inwardly. I knew he couldn’t promise that. Who lives and who dies is a crapshoot. A voyage into territory that had no guidelines or rules. A healthy athlete can drop dead. No warning. People survive falling out of the sky when a plane crashes. Who gets to decide the lucky and the unlucky? A cosmic draw? A universe poker game among the gods with human lives as the buy in?

“She’ll be okay,” Ryan repeated and I knew he was trying to convince himself my mother would survive. He and I had talked about death before. Books and movies depict death as a figure shrouded in black. But they were all wrong. Death was multi-colored, painting pictures with his actions that no one ever wants displayed in their home. Green for the envy toward other families who have not yet entertained the company of death. Red for the rage against the hopelessness that you can’t uninvite death if he decides to visit. White for the nothingness when you feel hopeless and powerless as death plays a waiting game with you.

So we waited.

The night faded into day and then back again. People came and went. Coworkers. Mine and my mom’s. Some of my old friends from school. Shelby. Brooklyn.

People Ryan knew came. Cooper. Juvante, Destiny. Mama Leena. Ryker. Zane. Forty-eight hours I sat at the hospital mainlining coffee, and refusing to leave my mother’s side. Ryan wouldn’t leave mine. He kept watch over me, rising protectively whenever the doctor approached as if impending pain was a freight train and he was determined not to let it crush me. But the pain did claim me. It moved into my body like an unwelcome roommate who took all the stuff that was once mine.

Laughter.

Joy.

Hope.

All of those had been stolen by pain now and she was a selfish bitch who’d shown she was reluctant to give them back. Time marched on and I zombied my way through it until Jason’s mom had to head out of town and I needed to go home to take care of Mark. I couldn’t tell him that nothing had changed. I would smile brightly and say that Mom was getting better. Then I would spend the night hoping that in the end I wasn’t lying.

“I’ll take you home,” Ryan said. He helped me to the elevator with his arm around me. The elevator crept toward the parking garage. People got on. Visitors. A doctor in blue scrubs. Nurses. Talking. Laughing. Like they had a right to be happy. To live when mere feet away from all of us, Mom might not make it. I tried hard to drown out their happiness and Ryan folded me against him. When one of the nurses told a joke to the doctor, I screamed, “Shut up! Stop laughing!” They all stared at me. The elevator doors slid open and Ryan hurried me out into the garage. He led me to the Charger and put me into the passenger seat then reached across me to fasten the seatbelt.

When he pulled out of the garage and onto the street, I said, “She was okay and then she wasn’t. And I can’t...” I shook my head, struggling to draw in enough oxygen. “I can’t make anything make sense.”

“That’s because what happened is senseless.” His hands gripped the steering wheel hard. “I’d take the pain for you if I could.”

“I know.” I let my head fall back against the seat. Mom. Baking cookies. Teaching me how to swim. Teaching me how to stand up to my father. Teaching me how to be strong enough to walk away from a bad relationship. Teaching me how to drive. I needed her. “Please,” I whispered to the sky as it stretched out vast and empty. “Please.”

We picked up Mark at Jason’s house and he climbed into the back of Ryan’s car as a more subdued version of himself. I forced a bright smile. “You want fish and chips for supper?”

“Not if you make them.”

“From the Fish Shack.”

“Okay.” He stared out through the window.

We picked up the food and after we went to the house, I tried hard to force down some of it. Mark picked at his, then announced he was going to bed. He pushed away from the table, then stopped in the hallway and looked over his shoulder at me. “I’m going to sleep in Mom’s bed.”

I nodded and started cleaning up the remnants of supper.

Ryan gave me a look and tried to reach for me but I wouldn’t let him. “Thanks for bringing me home, but please go. I can’t deal with our broken relationship on top of what’s happened to my mom.”

“We’re not broken. We’re—”

“Yes, we are. I need something that you don’t have within yourself to give and it hurts too much to pretend that it’s okay. You said you didn’t want to talk about things, that we weren’t a couple and you’re right.” I lifted a shoulder in a shrug, hoping he’d tell me how much that night together had meant to him, hoping he’d say that I was right and he was wrong and we should see if there could be more between us than friendship.

His eyes flashed and he nodded. Without another word, he turned around and left.

It bothered me that he didn’t even bother to ask what it was that I needed. Whatever he thought it was, he wasn’t even willing to try. Now I had to begin the painful process of untangling my life from his for the sake of my bruised heart.

*

RYAN

I took another long drink from the bottle and the vodka ran with fiery claws down into my gut. So much pain in my wake. Everywhere I went, I left someone in pain. I rubbed my fingers across the crown logo. King. I was a king too.

King of Jacks. “One more car, Donny. Don’t be such a baby.” The words I’d spoken floated around my head. The final ones I ever said to my friend on the last night I’d jacked a car. My fault he’d died. My fault Tana’s mom was in the hospital. My fault Tana was in so much pain. My fault she was so confused about us. I’d crossed a line. I’d messed up our friendship. I was rotten. No good. All those foster parents had been right about me. I was bad because I came from bad seed and history always repeated itself.

Gripping the chain link fence, the metal leading like a tour guide toward the alley where Donny had begged me to save him, I stumbled past a row of garbage cans. Tripped. Fell to my knees. I closed my hands around dirt, grass, and abandoned cigarette butts. I threw them toward the sky, throwing my head back at the same time, screaming until my throat was raw.

“Tana! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Mark’s tear-streaked face flashed before my eyes. “I’m sorry, Creature. So sorry.” I’d experienced beatings. Felt the wickedly sharp blade of a knife slice through my skin and leave me scarred. Had the hot side of an iron pressed against my side. But those were a walk in the park weighed against the pain I felt at having been the cause of Tana’s pain.

I stared upward until the fading sun painted the sky with streaks of dusky pink. A dog barked faintly behind me to my right. Supper smells lingered in the air. Normal things in my upside down world. I bowed my head.

Chanos’ ultimatum when he’d called last night rang in my ears, played in my mind, reopening the door to the hell and destruction I’d once known. What choice did I have? Chanos or Tana. Not a choice at all. Inevitable. That’s the word the cop used the night Donny died. “Prison’s in your future, boy. It’s inevitable.”

I wiped the end of my nose and put my hand back on the fence. Four more steps and I’d be at the spot where Donny died. Three more. Two. One. I’d promised on his grave.

“I’m out,” I’d said. I had been. I’d wanted to be good. I’d lived life as clean as I could. Not an angel, but far from the devil I’d been. But what the fuck did I know about a catalyst back then? The one that would propel me backward into my past so that Tana could have a future.

I rubbed the bottle again. Why the hell wasn’t it working? The alcohol genie was supposed to bring me the magic to shut the pain up for a little while. Maybe I needed a few more swigs. I lifted the bottle and touched it to my lips.

“I’m sorry, Tana,” I whispered again, knowing that I could say the words every day for the rest of my life and it would never be enough.

Her smile reached through the upside down. Her face swam before me. There was trust in her eyes. Hope. Concern. She’d once said I was her hero. She needed me.

I flung the bottle away. It smashed against a rock and vodka soaked the thirsty ground. I would be whatever kind of devil I needed to be for Tana’s sake but I wouldn’t unleash the one I’d always found in a bottle. No, that sonofabitch was a dark bastard.

Rolling over onto my back, I watched the sky grow darker and darker. I didn’t move even when I heard footsteps coming toward me. Hands gripped my arms, lifting me to my feet. Juvante wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and gave me a hard shake.

“Come on, brother. Pull your ass together. Let’s go home.”

I patted the center of his chest and couldn’t make my words not slur. “I tore her heart out, man.”

“Uh huh. Get your ass in the car.” Juvante shook his head. “I warned you about Tana. I knew the way you looked at her was different.”

“Yeah. Different.” My head lolled back against the seat and the movement of the car jarred my stomach. “I never thought it would happen to me. I feel...I feel too much, man. But I can’t be with her. Look at what I did to her.”

“Uh huh.”

“I gotta go back in. Keep her safe. That’s the only way. It’s what Chanos wants.”

Sorrow wafted my way from the expression on Juvante’s face. “I know,” he said quietly.