Page 5 of Things I Wish I Said

“I’m serious. Whether you want to admit it or not, I think the guilt of ignoring your father’s wishes is eating you alive. This will be closure.”

I swallow, her words hitting something inside me I can’t name, but it feels a lot like the truth—a sore spot I’m unwilling to acknowledge.

“And for another,” she continues, “I was checking my emails this morning when I realized you weren’t here, and I came across this one.

It’s not a wish I can run through the charity, at least not officially.

But if I have you, I can still grant it and go through Wishing Well in name only.

Any resources and funds needed will be provided out of my own pocket. ”

I sigh and turn my head away from her while she reaches out and grabs my hands, pleading for me to hear her.

“You’ve lost yourself this year. Sometimes I barely recognize you anymore. The bitter, sullen boy in front of me is not the man I raised.” She pauses, then: “I failed you.”

And I failed him .

I bow my head.

“But my eyes are open, and I’m not going to fail you anymore. If I’m wrong about this, fine. You do your job and complete the wish, and at the end of the summer, the money is yours. You can go to school or drink it all away. Whatever you want.”

I grit my teeth.

I’m going to play baseball.

Nothing has changed for me, and it never will.

I’ll get out of this house, play ball, and figure the rest of it out later, even if a part of me feels like it’s a lie.

But I say none of this. Because the truth in her words haunts me.

“I think the guilt of ignoring your father’s wishes is eating you alive.”

“What’s the wish?” I surprise myself by asking.

“It’s from a young lady diagnosed with stage II lung cancer. It appears to be acute and aggressive, even if doctors aren’t labeling it so. It didn’t respond to early treatment, but she’s going through more chemo now and hoping for the best.”

I know enough about cancer to last me a lifetime, and anyone with acute anything and treatment-resistant chemo is as good as fucked where I’m concerned.

“And?” I wave her on, not wanting to hear the details.

“And she’s never had a boyfriend before. She wants one for the summer.”

I blink at my mother, unsure if I heard right because she can’t be serious .

I point at my chest, laughter sputtering from my parted lips. “And you want me to . . .?”

“Date her for the summer.”

I choke. “You’re joking?”

“I’m not.”

I snap my mouth shut, staring at her with wide eyes.

She’s lost her damn mind, clearly. I always wondered how long it would take after losing Dad for her to snap, and now I have my answer—four hundred nine days because no way in hell am I spending the next three months pretending to be the boyfriend of someone with the same fucking disease that took my father.

I rein my anger in, trying to be rational as I say, “Do I look like boyfriend material right now to you?”

“You’re handsome and charming and—”

“I’m fucking up right and left. You said so yourself.”

“Then snap the fuck out of it!” she screams.

I stare at her, mouth agape. My mother never swears.

“Ma, I know you said you see what’s happening here, but do you? I graduated senior year by the skin of my teeth. I drink myself numb, and when that doesn’t work, I smoke enough grass to make Willie Nelson forget his own fucking name.”

And I’m doing other shit you don’t know about, too.

Worse shit.

Stupid things that can get me arrested, like hanging with Dustin while he deals drugs, watching while his friends vandalize private property .

Mom winces like it’s hard to hear.

“Besides, isn’t that, I don’t know, unethical?” I ask.

“It’s unconventional, I know—”

“No. It’s fucked up, Mom.”

“Enough with the language,” she snaps, but when she narrows her eyes at me, I don’t cower.

She’s asking a whole hell of a lot, considering she was spot-on when she said I’m a ghost in this house, except she is, too.

We pass each other in the hall without a second thought, barely acknowledging the other, her with her nose stuck in her work, and me fully devoted to drinking my life away with the same devotion a priest gives to the church.

“Do you realize what you’re asking? After watching Dad . . .” I swallow the lump in my throat, pushing back the image threatening to surface. “You can’t possibly expect me to do this. What if she’s terminal?”

I can’t go through that again. Just the thought has panic clawing at my throat.

“What would I even say to her? What would we do?” I continue. “Is she even well enough to leave the house? It’ll be like watching Dad all over again.” My voice cracks, and I fight for composure. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to.”

“She needs this.”

And I need the fuck out of this house and away from all the memories.

“No.” I shake my head. “She needs to be resting and focusing her energy on getting better. If that fails, then she should be spending her days with her family like Dad did. ”

“You and I don’t get to decide what people want before they die.”

“Am I supposed to kiss her, too? Huh, Ma?”

“I mean, maybe if the mood strikes—”

“Holy shit.” I clasp my hands behind my head, my temperature rising. “You really have lost it. Am I supposed to fuck her while I’m at it? You know, so she doesn’t die a virgin?”

“Grayson Alejandro De Leon!”

A breath hisses through my teeth as I turn away from her.

Silence envelops us for a moment before my mother says, “I don’t expect you to understand this.

I really don’t. But something about this girl .

. . something about this letter . . .” She huffs out a breath.

“It’s like your father was there looking over my shoulder, beckoning me to open it and grant this wish with your help.

I’ve been praying for a way to get through to you, and it’s like I could feel him telling me this was the answer. ”

My chest tightens as I remember the promise to my father. Somehow, I’m not sure this is what he intended, but guilt sinks its hooks into me all the same.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. He’s gone, and he’s not sending you subliminal messages.”

I return my gaze to hers, catching the tears swimming in her blue eyes.

“I know it sounds crazy, but for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace when I read her email and decided we could give her this. Like, this whole thing, your father creating this foundation just before he died, had a singular purpose, and in that moment, it was to grant this one girl a wish. ”

I swallow. Using my father as a form of coercion is a low blow, and Mom knows it.

Not only would granting this wish be awkward as fuck, I’m the worst possible candidate for the job.

It’s too much.

And I’m not enough.

But maybe if I do this, if I follow through and grant this wish, it’ll lift this fucking weight off my chest. The one I’ve been carrying around for the last thirteen months.

Maybe I can breathe again.

“I’ll think about it,” I say after a moment.

Mom nods, eyes bright as she swipes at her damp cheeks. “Meet with her. At least see what you think before you decide.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Grayson. If you won’t do it for me, do it for your father.”