Page 59 of This Might Hurt

JUDE

Andrew charges around the corner and crashes straight into me where I was pressed against the wall, trying to make out what he said in there.

He holds up his hand so I can see how much he’s shaking.

“I did it,” he announces breathlessly, his eyes bright.

It’s not the same happy light he had in the stables.

This one is more like a fever. “They’re scared. ”

“You were brutal. It was perfect.” For the first time he got a full hit of that high I told him about.

The thing is, I never told him the rest of the story.

How you can’t stop, because making people do what you want is the only power you have left.

How it rots in your belly. It’s my gift to him, I guess.

I just didn’t expect it to feel quite like this.

I realize he’s staring at me, a worried crease between his eyebrows. “Jude?”

“Hey, I’m so fucking proud of you.” I throw my arms around him and feel his whole body still vibrating with nerves as he leans into me. “Are they shitting themselves in there?”

He nods. “Colin literally ran. I don’t know if he’s calling Archie or Daxton’s parents.”

“So.” I lean back against the wall and press my hand flat to his chest under his suit jacket, willing his heart to slow down before he keels over.

“We finally cleared step one of the plan. What was step two again?” I already know he doesn’t have a real step two.

Some part of him never believed we’d get here.

It’s wrong of me to ask when I’m really just trying to get him to say that we should pack up and leave, even though he already told me that’s not on the table.

He grimaces, oblivious to my manipulations. “Well, first and foremost we should probably vacate the house for the rest of the day.”

“What are they gonna do to you when we come back?”

“Once they’ve cooled off a little, they’ll just say a lot of shit. I can take it.” He shrugs too casually.

“Can we go for a walk or something? It stopped raining.” The mansion in Montana was like a tomb, but this one is so bright and brittle that breathing the air feels like inhaling crushed glass. I need to get out.

He nods. “The breeze off the river is usually nice. I’ll sneak around the back way to get changed and have them pack us an early dinner. Meet me by the south door?”

“Which way is south in this godforsaken maze?”

His unstable, frantic energy eases when he laughs. “Turn left at the main hall, take the next right, another left, then out the big door.”

I mess up his flat interview hair with my fingers, then give him a casual, owning kind of kiss, which is in some ways even better than making out. “Don’t get caught and murdered.”

Andrew comes out of the house twenty minutes later with some kind of thermal lunch bag slung adorably over his shoulder and finds me sunning myself on a damp stretch of stone wall.

He changed into an olive green t-shirt and light-wash jeans, with his gelled hair finger-combed into a bright, coppery muss.

“I saw Daxton’s car peeling out in a hurry. Maybe his family called him home.”

“I hope so. He looked like a pain to murder.” I jump off the wall and run to catch up with him as he heads for the road. “Can we take like an hour where we don’t talk about any of this?”

He doesn’t look thrilled about it, but he nods and grabs my hand.

On the other side of the road, we take a wide dirt path that’s all muddy from the rain.

It weaves toward the river in some places, close enough to see a couple of sailboats, then further inland through trees and rolling, grassy fields.

A hazy sun burns right through the middle of the gray clouds, getting hotter the further we walk.

For a long time we stay quiet, with Andrew occasionally dropping a piece of not-very-interesting history trivia about some building in the distance. I just nod and go “huh” until he laughs because he knows I don’t give a shit.

“Can I ask you something?” he pipes up, after half an hour. From his cautious tone and the way he squeezes my hand, it’s something he thinks I won’t want to talk about. Lucky me.

“Sure. You’re the hero of the hour.”

“You said that your brain feels…intense a lot of the time, right? Since before your sister’s accident?”

This is not at all where I thought he was headed. “I guess so.”

“I feel like I’ve seen it sometimes,” he ventures. “The day we met, or when we poured the concrete. Like you’re stuck in fast forward.”

It’s the first time anyone has ever told me how I look to them when I’m not doing okay.

I think people are scared to mention it, in case they damage me somehow.

I expect it to hurt, but there’s so much goodness in him I don’t think he could ever make me feel ashamed. “That’s a pretty good analogy, yeah.”

“I noticed the last few days you’ve been…I don’t know. You look at me when I’m talking, and you make decisions more cautiously, like I can see you thinking things through instead of running fifteen steps ahead. Do you know what I mean?”

I can tell the difference, when I think about it, but not until someone points it out.

“I get this way sometimes at Ramona’s, when I feel safe and I can eat and sleep as much as I want.

But I can never remember if that’s how I used to feel before.

Then sometimes it goes the other way, where there’s a thousand-pound weight crushing me and I can’t do anything.

” He’s a lot easier to talk to than that old guy in the dark office, mostly because he’s not writing down everything I say and frowning at it.

I shrug. “I don’t have any answers for you, though.

All I know is that no matter what happens, it never means I’m getting better. ”

I have no idea what I expect him to say next, but he just nods and offers me a shy smile. “Thanks for explaining. I wanted to understand better. You know you can tell me if you ever need anything, right? Or if you’re scared.”

“Um…we should eat our dinner.” I look around desperately for somewhere flat with a view, because if I want to stay functional, I can’t possibly think about what he just said.

He gets the idea and helps me poke around in the wet grass until we find a nice rock that looks out over the river in the distance.

I expect Andrew to have some kind of fancy veggie sandwich, but based on the smell he’s gone for straight up peanut butter and banana.

Some employee made me a roll with thick cuts of roast beef and horseradish sauce, which is a bold choice.

Luckily, I like controversial condiments.

We eat in silence for so long that we both jump when a phone rings. I look at Andrew, but he shakes his head. “I left mine at home.”

There are only two people who call me, and neither of them are scheduled for today. When I see Lena’s name on the screen, my heart climbs up into my throat. “Shit.” I look desperately at Andrew. “It’s not her day. Why is she calling?”

He sets the rest of his sandwich down with a worried expression and scoots closer until his shoulder is pressed against mine. “Maybe it’s nothing. Put her on speaker.”

“Hello?” I balance the phone on my knee, too panicked to remember any of our goofy nicknames.

“Jude?” Her normally happy voice wavers, and I press my shaky hands to my forehead. I’m trying to brace myself, but I don’t have anything left inside me to brace with.

“Lena, are you okay?”

“Um, I think so? I just don’t know what to do.” She’s eighteen now, but all I can hear is the scared little voice she had when she broke her leg falling off the trampoline nine years ago and I had to drive her to the hospital on my learner’s permit.

“Tell me what’s going on, kiddo. I’m here.” It’s a lie, because when I stand up and look around, I’m in a totally unfamiliar place two thousand miles away, where I can’t get to her no matter how much she needs me.

She sighs, trying to steady her voice. “I have a fever, and I haven’t been feeling good.

The doctor says it might be a cold or it might be urinary retention, like there’s something wrong with my catheter.

The insurance won’t pre-approve any scans or procedures for the cath, so Mom and Dad want to wait a couple more days and see.

” I’m pacing in circles now, Andrew listening uneasily.

“If it’s not a cold and they wait too long, I might have to go to the hospital and miss graduation.

Dad’s trying to sell his truck to cover the payment, but no one wants it.

Um…” She sounds wretched. “I’m so sorry, but do any of those grants or funds have any money left? I don’t know what else to do, Jude.”

For some reason I can never bring myself to hate my parents for what they’ve done to me.

Part of me still believes they have a reason, like they know some secret that makes me fundamentally dangerous to my sister.

But I hate them so fucking much for this.

They probably have no money left, after the last year and a half.

But if I can find a way to pay for her shit while I’m homeless and sleeping in truck stop bathrooms, they should be doing anything, everything for her.

“Yeah, of course,” I fumble out, forgetting my lies and cover stories. “It’s all good, don’t worry. Tell them to make the appointment right now. Send me the bill online, I’ll pay it this afternoon. You’re not missing graduation, squirt, I promise.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Thank you. I was really scared.”

“Please don’t be scared. Call me anytime. I’ll fix it.” I literally sound insane now. I need to stop. But I can’t get my mouth to shut up. Andrew stands up, and I crash straight into him. He catches my arm and points to the phone, making a silencing gesture.

“Hey, hold on,” I tell Lena. “Let me check something.” I mute the call and wait impatiently for him to speak. His deep gray eyes are strangely intense, like for the first time since I met him, he has no doubts about what he’s doing.