Page 58 of Don’t Let Me Go

“I wish you’d tell me what happened,” Dad says as he studies me across the dinner table. It’s Friday night, and he’s made

this complaint or some version of it at least fifty times over the past week.

This time, like every time before, I ignore him. Avoiding his reproachful gaze, I push the lukewarm chicken and potatoes around

on my plate in an attempt to make it look like I’m eating. I haven’t had an appetite since Jackson and I ended things, and

mealtime with the Food Police has become the bane of my already baneful existence.

“Riley?” Dad persists when I continue to stare at my plate in the silence that has become my default since last week.

“Nothing happened,” I grumble. “Jackson and I just decided we shouldn’t be together.”

Dad shakes his head and sets down his fork. “But something had to have happened to make you come to that conclusion.”

I shrug and continue to devote my full attention to pushing around my potatoes.

There have been a couple of times over the past week when I’ve almost broken down and told my dad everything. About Jocasta.

About our past lives. About the death sentence hanging over our heads if Jackson and I stayed together. Thankfully, I had

enough sense to realize that the quickest way to get myself institutionalized (or at the very least sent to a shrink again)

would be to start ranting about witches and reincarnation.

So I kept my mouth shut. I forced myself to get out of bed and go to work every day even though Dad insisted I take some time off.

I figured if I pretended everything was okay, he might get off my back and stop checking on me every five minutes.

But I was wrong. If anything, he’s been keeping a closer eye on me than ever.

I know that his constant attempts to get me to open up about what happened are because he wants to help. But his questions

and concern are suffocating. They’re too much to deal with. Everything is too much. My friends, my job, my life.

All I want to do is lie in bed and disappear from the world until I stop missing Jackson. Until the pain in my heart stops

reminding me every second of every day of what I’ve lost.

But that’s never going to happen. I’m never going to stop missing Jackson. That pain is never going to go away. It’s going

to be a part of me. Forever.

“Son, I have to ask...” Dad says, his voice taking on a strange, strained inflection that I’ve rarely heard before, “Did

Jackson?.?.?.? hurt you?”

A burning furnace of rage erupts inside me and my hands begin to shake. “Jackson would never hurt me.”

Dad blinks in surprise, visibly taken aback by the vehemence in my voice.

“How could you even ask that?”

“I’m asking because it’s clear something happened,” he pushes back. “A week ago, you were the happiest that I’ve seen you

in months. You were walking around the office with a smile on your face and a bounce in your step. Then you came home Saturday

night, and it was like someone had flipped a switch. Now you’re hiding in your room, avoiding your friends, and walking around

like a robot.”

I shrug. “I’m a teenager.”

“You’re also not eating,” Dad adds, pointedly holding my gaze.

“Oh my God,” I scoff. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m developing an eating disorder again?

” I spear the chicken breast with my fork, bring it to my mouth, and tear off a huge chunk with my teeth.

As with everything else I’ve tried to eat over the past few days, the meat tastes bland and flavorless.

It’s like chewing plastic. But I force myself to swallow.

“There? Happy?” I ask. I know I’m lashing out at the person who least deserves it, but I can’t help myself. I’m hurting. And

right now, all I want to do is pass that hurt onto someone else.

Dad removes his glasses and massages the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting off a migraine. “Riley, you’re clearly in pain.

I’m trying to help. I’m your father. I’m allowed to be concerned about your eating habits. The last time something like this

happened, you wound up in the hospital.”

The fact that my father is comparing Jackson to Alex makes me even more furious. Alex was a closeted jerk who used and discarded

me. Jackson is—was—the best thing in my life. And every other life. Those two names don’t belong anywhere near each other.

“I’m tired,” I say, pushing away from the table and starting to rise. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sit down .” Dad’s voice is hard and sharp. Out of instinct, I obey, even though I’m certain he’s about to lay into me like he’s never

laid into me before.

Instead, Dad just stares down at his half-eaten dinner and sighs. In his exhaustion, I can see the toll that the past few

days have taken on him. With his pinched expression and tired eyes, he looks almost as shattered as me.

“I know you’re upset about Jackson,” he says, struggling to keep his voice under control. “I know you’re hurting. But, Riley,

you need to take care of yourself.”

His request is so urgent, so full of concern, that it breaks what’s left of my already broken heart. I feel my ice-cold anger melt away, leaving behind only a rising tide of remorse.

“I will,” I hear myself say, much to my own surprise. “I’ll start eating more. I promise.”

“It’s not just the eating. When something’s wrong, you need to tell me about it so that I can help you. I know you’re an independent

person and you think you need to face all your problems on your own, but it’s okay to ask for help. I want to help you. Your

friends want to help you. But you have to let us in.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I’ll try.”

Dad nods. I’m not sure if he believes me. I’m not sure I believe me. But after a week of worrying about me and my diminishing diet, he’s eager to accept any win he can get.

“It’ll get easier, Ri, I promise,” he says, reaching across the table and squeezing my hand. “I know you don’t want to hear

this, but there will be other boys. Right now, you’re hurting, and you probably feel like you’ll never find someone as amazing

as Jackson, but you will. Trust me. You’re a thoughtful, considerate, incredible young man, and you’re going to have so much

love in your life from so many wonderful people. But in the meantime, son, you need to remember to love yourself.”

I nod and force myself to smile.

I know Dad is only trying to help me. I know everything he’s saying is something I need to hear. And if Jackson really were

just another Alex, Dad’s words would make me feel a thousand times better.

But Jackson isn’t another Alex.

He’s my soulmate. He’s the one and only person on the planet that I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. And I don’t

know how I’m supposed to live without him.

How does a person live with only half a soul?