Page 96 of Raise Me Up

I’m sucked back into memories of all the times he asked me to play for him, either on the back porch or in his office where we’d kept my mom’s upright piano. He’s been so supportive of everything I do.

We sit in silence for a bit as I work up the courage to tell him about my diagnosis.

A male voice sounds in the background of the phone. Something about loading up a trailer.

“I’ll let you get back to work, dad.”

“Hold on now. Roy can stand to learn some patience. I haven’t talked to you in seven whole months.”

God dammit. Now the tears are pouring down my face. I guess I didn’t realize my dad cared. Seven months flew by. He didn’t try to reach out once.

Then again, I didn’t either. I assumed the ball was in his court, but I’m an adult, too. I’m just as capable of opening a line of communication.

“Dad.” My voice trembles. “I’m kinda not okay.”

Another pause. “What do you mean, Beau? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”

I cover my face with an arm like a kid trying to hide. “I’m in the hospital. And no, I can manage a flight home on my own.”

Boots crunch on gravel. I assume my dad must be pacing or putting distance between him and his hired help. “You’re scaring me, son. Why the hell are you in the hospital?”

“I’ll explain in person. I think they’re going to release me tomorrow.”

“You’ll fly home then? Can I pick you up from the airport?”

“Yeah. That sounds good. I’ll text you.”

“I love you, Beau.”

“Love you, too, dad.”

I hang up and submit to grief as it crashes over me and takes me under.

twenty-nine

Stasi

I’ve worked in the medical field long enough to know that it can be an arduous wait for answers. Answers you sometimes don’t receive.

This is the first time I’ve been on the other end of a medical situation, and the anxiety and stress of not knowing what caused Beau’s seizure is inching me closer to the line of meltdown territory.

How could he honestly believe we’re going to be able to sleep tonight?

Silently, I step into the elevator behind Liam. His plummeting mood seeps out of him like some dark, physical entity. A monstrous shadow looming over us in the cramped space once the doors close.

I respect Beau’s choice to kick us out, but I also don’t want to leave him alone. Will the staff check on him enough? Is this the first time he’s had a seizure? Could it be epilepsy? What if there’s an underlying issue they’re not testing for? A history they need to be aware of?

I feel like I barely know him.

And yet, I’ve slept in his arms. I’ve enjoyed brunches and late night cookouts with him. I’ve watched him create music in the studio. I’ve covered him in mud and danced with him in the rain and snuggled with him on the couch while we watched football—a sport he doesn’t fully get, but he tries for me.

In the span of a hot Texas summer, I’ve built a connection with him unique to anyone I’d ever known.

My bond with Liam tookyearsto form. It was confusing and lonely and often felt hopeless. With Beau, it’s been a whirlwind of butterflies and laughter and shared affection from the very start.

Both men have brought me such happiness these past months. If only I could lift their spirits in return. If only I could be their rock, capable of weathering storms.

But I don’t know that I’m strong enough to be that person when I can’t even stand up for my twin brother.