Page 47 of A Summer to Save Us

I check my phone, but Dad hasn’t texted. I take another sip. After a while, I feel dizzy, lie down on the bed, and close my eyes. I listen in the darkness for the door opening, but it remains gravely silent.

Startled, I bolt upright in bed. Something woke me. Maybe I screamed in my sleep again, but I wasn’t dreaming of anything, was I?

Tense, I look around the room and see a strip of light under the bathroom door. I left the door open earlier, so River must have come back.

Thank God. I feel the tension ease a little. How could I even fall asleep? It was definitely because of the alcohol. But what woke me up?

My eyes fall on my cell phone on the bedside table.

The lock screen lights up and displays a notification from Dad.

Crap, I forgot to turn it on airplane mode.

Maybe it was the beep that woke me up, but if such a tiny sound can wake me from my sleep, then River must have sneak in incredibly quietly.

I click on the notification and am taken directly to the message chat. It’s a video message.

I hesitate. Do I actually want to know what Dad has to say?

What I might learn could destroy the dream with River forever. On the other hand, I can probably only help him if I know the truth. I nervously look toward the bathroom door and gently touch the screen with my fingertip.

Dad looks at the camera with a worried expression, and the sight of him gives me a sinking feeling.

He has plum-colored circles under his eyes, and the fine lines on his face have turned into furrows.

The only time he looked this terrible was when Mom left us.

He’s silent for a moment, then speaks in a worryingly serious voice.

“Kansas. I hope you’re alone when you see this.

” I involuntarily hold my breath and stare back at the narrow strip of light below the bathroom door.

“I just got off the phone with Clark Davenport. I don’t know why you actually asked about Chester’s brother, but Clark told me he’s missing.

Not missing by the police... but by them, by his family and his friends.

Nobody knows where he is.” Dad peers directly into the camera, which is unsettling, as if he’s about to announce something terrible.

“He’s the boy in the photo, isn’t he? I sent it to Clark.

You’re traveling together... I’m scared, Kansas.

Clark said his son was sick.” Yes, insane.

It kind of pisses me off that Dad listened to Clark Davenport.

Maybe now he’ll realize that I’ve never been with hundreds of guys and that Chester is lying.

“He says he’ll hurt you sooner or later.

He hurts everyone close to him, Kansas, do you understand me?

” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll pick you up if you want.

I’m begging you, separate from this young man.

” He’s silent again and shakes his head.

“I wonder why he didn’t tell you his name.

Maybe he didn’t want you to know who he was.

..” He sighs, exhausted. “Tanner. His name is Tanner Davenport.”

Tanner. I repeat several times, staring at the bathroom door as if I could see River behind it. Tanner . The name sounds strange.

I close my dad’s message, turn on airplane mode, and take a deep breath. Should I confront River about what I learned?

I crawl out of bed and place my feet on the carpeted floor. The cold sweat on my back makes me shiver. What should I do? River must have been in the bathroom for a long time, and with each passing minute, I’m becoming more and more restless.

When another five minutes go by, I go to the locked door and tentatively knock.

“Don’t!” he says sharply. It sounds like he’s standing close behind the door. You can’t lock it; I noticed that earlier when I tried. Damn, what do I do now?

If I were selfless, I would tell you to leave me before things get really bad .

I knock again, determined not to be brushed off.

“No!” he shouts so loudly I flinch. Suddenly, I feel ice-cold. Something is not right. Whenever he feels bad, he sends me away. It must be really bad.

Ignoring his warning, I push the handle down and see him standing at the sink with his back to me.

“Damn you, Tucks! What don’t you get about the word no? Should I write it on the mirror in lipstick?” He doesn’t turn around; he just rolls down the sleeves of his shirt.

Is he doing drugs?

With a quick glance, I scan the area around the sink and spot a few colorful pills.

My throat tightens. It’s one thing to suspect it and another to see it, and somehow, everything is different now than it did at the beginning.

He was a stranger who helped me and who maybe took drugs from time to time.

I didn’t care as long as he tolerated me being around. But now...

I open my mouth as he turns, his face pale and miserable, his eyes glassy. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a million lifetimes. “Go. Just get out.”

I immediately shake my head and ignore his warning tone.

It hurts to see him like this—someone who was so exuberant at first, who can fold cranes with one hand, and who knows all the curiosities of the country.

Someone who saved me and who I thought was infinitely strong.

So strong that the storms of life couldn’t knock him down.

I feel tears building up in my throat, but I swallow them.

“I’m serious, Kansas!”

Me too.

“None of this concerns you. All this crap...”

Yes, it does, damn it! The words stay with me, even though I want to throw them in his face.

He stares at the white floor tiles, his chest rising and falling rapidly. At some point, he takes a deep breath. “Just go. The day after tomorrow, we’ll go see your mom so you can ask why she left, and everything will be fine.”

Everything will be fine for those who can wait.

But I’ve waited far too long, and nothing has turned out well.

River will continue to live in his dream world, and I’ll continue to remain silent.

Nothing will ever change as long as you wait.

I raise my arms in a challenging way, and he reacts.

He looks at me and then puts his hands behind his back.

Then I realize that it’s not just the pills that I shouldn’t see.

I slowly walk toward him.

He presses his lips together but remains in front of the porcelain basin. When I’m close enough to him, he wraps his arms around me. At that moment, it seems like a relief to me. I let him pull me into his chest as he sniffs my hair.

“You smell incredible,” he whispers from above me and rests his forehead against mine. “Like caramel coffee cream. That’s why I fell so madly in love with you.”

I playfully nudge his side. Just because of that? He laughs his rough, strange River laugh.

I relax a little, but not enough to forget his dark aura and the misery in his eyes.

Immortal is the word he used that echoes in my mind. Immortality eternal.

“The day after tomorrow is the opening. Tomorrow, we continue on toward Vegas... to your mom,” he says quietly, his breath tickling my lips. “It’s best you go back to sleep. This will definitely be tiring.” He sounds calm now. Too calm.

With an uneasy feeling, I break away from him, take a step back, and look at him from top to bottom.

He’s barefoot, wearing his worn jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, which is unusual. My gaze lingers on his slender fingers. Fine red drops run from under his shirt into his palm. In both palms! And it’s only when River approaches me, frightened, that I notice the blood in the sink.

I feel like the world is suddenly spinning twice as fast. He cut himself.

To come down!

“I told you not to come in! Now you’ve seen what you weren’t supposed to see!” Anger and frustration resonate in his words.

I shake my head wildly and pull up the right sleeve of his shirt with shaking fingers. It’s already wet, and River winces in pain at the movement, but he doesn’t stop me.

When I see the deep cuts, I gasp for breath. Oh my God! There’s so much blood. So much. How could he hurt himself like this?

In a blind panic, I roll up the other sleeve. Here, too, are deep, profusely bleeding cuts.

I shake my head repeatedly as tears well up in my eyes. He said he would only do this when the chaos in his head became too loud.

“That’s why I didn’t want you to come in,” he says now, his voice wavering between exhaustion and rejection. He just stands there with a broken look in his eyes.

I’m losing him. At that moment, it dawns on me. Whatever I do, I’ll lose him. He is something I cannot grasp.

In desperation, I grab his arm and place my cheek on his fresh cuts. More and more tears stream down my face.

“Hey.” He strokes my hair with a tenderness that almost kills me. “These aren’t healing phoenix tears, are they? If so, it would be pretty handy to always have you close to me.”

I could scream because he’s cracking jokes again and being so careful and gentle. I’ll lose him. He’ll jump. Panic fills me. My throat burns so much and not just from the tears. I have no idea how to help him, but I feel more lost in my silent land than ever before.

This is all wrong. I lift my head and look into those unfathomable eyes. Blink. I have to jump to help him now—not at the end of the summer. And not for me, but for him. Because I love him like I’ve never loved anything before. Because I have to save him so he stays with me.

I force a word onto my tongue. I have to say it now. I have to say it even if everything in my head screams against it. Don’t do it! You can never go back. If you speak now, he’ll expect you to say more . The muscles in my throat tense, and sweat trickles down my back. I open my mouth.

I have to reach him somehow.

You can’t go back! Never again!

I stand in the silent land, and the deep fear of the world collapses down on me.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I’m not good enough, not strong enough. I don’t know how to do this—life and everything that comes with it. People will make demands that I can’t meet. They’ll laugh at me.

I form a W with my lips.

Speak!

I feel sick. Red stars dance before my eyes, and I feel my heartbeat thunders in my throat.

“W-wh-why?” I hear myself say hoarsely. The word almost gets stuck in my throat, and the silence that follows solidifies me.