Page 43 of You Weren’t Meant to Be Human

After that? Who knows. College would get deferred for a year, probably.

Dad would help make an appointment for HRT on his son’s eighteenth birthday, and Mom would pay for a therapist who clocks Crane’s autism thirty minutes into the first session.

In a few years, he’d see Aspen and Birdie again.

And Levi never would have fucked him, and this baby wouldn’t be tearing him apart, and he would never know what the inside of a shattered skull looked like, and he would use a safe word if he needed it.

If Crane hadn’t been such a coward, and asked for help, he could’ve avoided it all.

But nobody ever told him he was allowed to.

So look where he ended up instead.

Crane presses his face into Dad’s hands, and reaches for Mom, and he’s crying too. They can’t help him now, the same way Aspen and Birdie couldn’t. He’s putting them in danger. They are all separated from Levi and the hive by a door and a prayer.

“What happened?” Mom says. “Who did this to you?”

Dad dives right into it. No time for questions.

“We need to get to a hospital, then.” He’s in fix-it mode, visibly sorting through the options.

His attention lands on Jess: Jess, who is standing away from them, mouth open in visible confusion.

“That’s what you said. Right? Our car is almost out of gas but—is that your truck? ”

Jess clutches the key. “It is.”

But Crane shakes his head. Not because of the truck, but because they can’t be a part of it. It can’t happen like this.

“It’s okay,” Mom says. “We’re here now. Whatever happened, we don’t care.” She visibly fumbles through a mental list of worst-case scenarios. “If the father isn’t around, we can help with the baby. If there’s drugs, we have savings. We can find a rehab center.”

“Nicole,” Dad says, a whispered attempt to get her to slow down.

“Warrants? Are you in trouble?” Mom continues. She fussily readjusts the blanket around Crane’s shoulders. “I don’t care. We’ll figure it out.”

Stop. Stop. If they knew what he’d done, they wouldn’t be saying this, would they?

He realizes, yes. They would. They’re looking at him—disfigured and pregnant and silent and male—and pleading for him to come home. Promising they’ll overlook any and everything. Just so they know he’s okay, just so he’ll come back with them where he belongs.

It feels like something cracking in the back of the head. Something shattering.

Everything he’s told himself about never being able to go home to them suddenly feels like an excuse.

Crane knows he doesn’t deserve Jess’s help after everything he put her through. After everything he did to her, the truck and this tiny chance to escape—maybe ruined now—isn’t nearly enough to make up for it. But still, he turns to her in a panic.

Help me.

She steps in. Gestures Mom and Dad forward, tucks them in close.

“You’re Crane’s parents?” Jess says.

“Crane?” Dad says. “Like the bird?”

Mom, though, is undeterred. Crane watches her face, the little wrinkles that have sprung up in the corners of her eyes since he left. She still uses the same brand of lotion. “We are.”

“Right.” Jess nods sternly. “Like the bird. Look, I need you to listen to me. The baby’s father—he’s a piece of shit. Real motherfucker.” Dad’s eyes narrow. “No. Absolutely not. He’s an ex-Marine with half a foot on you, sir, I’m not letting you do that.”

Mom puts a hand on Dad’s shoulder.

“We’re trying to get away from this man,” Jess continues. She’s smart, and magnetic, and such a good fucking liar. “We don’t want him to get even a whiff that the two of you are involved. If he gets any idea that you’re around, we’re all in trouble.”

“So—” Mom looks helpless. “What do we do?”

Jess points down the road. “There’s another gas station on the other side of town, if you have the tank to make it a few more miles. You give us your phone number and then you keep going. You do whatever you were headed through here to do, and you stay away until your son tells you it’s safe.”

“When will that be?” Dad asks.

Jess says, “I don’t know.”

It is bizarre and ugly and terrifying to be offered a way out.

Knowing that his parents are actually capable of loving him despite what the hive has turned him into, despite what he’s been all along.

Look, the hive was right, the world is not made for ones like him—but, fuck, neither is the hive.

He won’t survive here, either. And what is the hive, anyway, except a bunch of sweet-talking bugs ?

They need people to do the dirty work for them.

They’re not special, they’re not magic, they’re bugs that can die.

And Crane doesn’t want to die. He just wants this to be over.

He wants to go home.

“It’s been a bad few years,” Jess says. “He can tell you about it when he’s safe.”

“Okay,” Mom says. “Okay.”

Mom and Dad write their number on a napkin and the grease pencil taken from Levi’s truck, and Crane tucks it into a pocket of the coat. They kiss his face and squeeze his hands.

“We missed you,” Dad says.

“We love you,” Mom says. “Whatever happened, we can fix it.”

They do not want to leave, but Jess points a look toward the road, like she thinks Levi is out there and might arrive any minute.

Crane whispers, voice raspy, “Bye.”

Mom whispers back, “Bye, baby.”

And then they’re gone. They’re in the car and driving away. The snow fills up the tracks in moments, and they disappear into the haze.

Jess says, “Jesus Christ.”

No more delays. No more wasting time. Crane points to the truck, can feel another contraction coming on. If Jess is going to leave, she needs to leave now.

When she doesn’t move, he grunts. Pulls the blanket off his shoulders and starts the process of folding it up tight. It’ll fit into the go bag, he thinks. He glares at her the whole time. Leave.

“I feel bad,” she says.

Crane doesn’t budge.

She groans, frustrated, then grabs Crane’s face and kisses the corner of his mouth. Her teeth chatter.

“You gonna be okay?” she says.

He nods. He’ll be more than okay.

He’s going to do something he promised he’d do a long time ago.