Page 29 of You Only Need One
Grumbling under my breath, I pull the calendars back to my side of the table. I guess Saturday doesn’t have to be all studying. It pains me to write over the neatly drawn boxes. I use colored pens once I have everything mapped out, and now, it’s like a toddler scribbling on a Monet.
After adding Break to all my Saturdays, I go to set my pen down, but Pops’s voice stops me.
“And?”
“And what?”
He taps the calendar. “Sometime during the week, too.” When I just glare, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Wonder if Marcus would agree with me.”
“Fine!” I throw my hands up and then scan the week. Thursday is the only other day with a huge chunk set aside for studying. Going with Ben to his treatment the other week didn’t throw off my schedule, even with my meeting oversight, so I take a chunk out of that day, too. “Happy?”
My adoptive father looks over the calendar, and I swear, I’m ready to scream when he goes to point at something else. It’s the Monday evening box labeled Make Pops dinner/Study.
“Change that. Now, it’s Takeout with Pops and gin rummy.”
He grins at me, and I melt. How can I stay mad when all his meddling comes from love?
“Okay, you win.” I make the change.
He stands up and pulls a deck of cards out of his pocket. “Not yet, but I will.”
BEN
Holly only came with me once, over a week ago, but walking into my parents’ house without her depresses me. The idea of sitting in that chair for hours with only a TV to distract me is torture.
To put off the inevitable, I search the house for my parents. I find them in the sky library. That’s what I named it when I was ten, and it stuck. The way the bookshelves are only broken up by windows revealing the tops of buildings always gives me the sense of sitting above everything. Floating in the sky.
Muted light spills from the lamps, just bright enough to read by. Dad sits in his work clothes. He’s removed his shoes, tie, and jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. When I was younger, I knew this meant I could climb into his lap because he was out of work mode. Tonight, he has some papers in front of him, glasses sitting low on his nose as he reads.
His file is propped on top of my mom’s feet, which rest in his lap as she stretches lengthwise on the couch. She’s wearing one of her silk nightgowns, but she still has a string of pearls around her neck. Her fingers run over the smooth beads as she reads a well-worn novel.
This is classic Mom and Dad. I’m one of the lucky ones with parents who’ve found a way to battle their issues and maintain their love, even after twenty-six years of marriage. Watching them together warms my chest but also brings focus to an empty section inside me.
What is that kind of love like? How do I find something that fits so well?
I’ve dated plenty, all nice girls I should’ve been happy with. But it never felt right. There was always a gap between us, a fake face I wore like a mask. Even before I got sick. Now, it’s worse. I can barely stand myself in the mirror, imagining what other people see.
Sick. Dying.
That’s got to be why I’m hung up on Holly. It’s not that I’m attracted to her really. She’s just the answer to my health issues. Once she heals me, I can be comfortable with myself again.
“Oh! Ben, you scared me!” My mom clutches her chest, smiling and shaking her head at me. “Why are you lurking in the doorway?”
I shrug. “Just thinking.”
“Everything all right?” Dad scans me from feet to forehead. Searching for any indication that I’m not well. At least, more not well than usual.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Guess I’m just putting it off.”
Like synchronized performers, they frown simultaneously. The pity does nothing but make my neck itch. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Honey, do you want me to come sit with you? We can watch a movie together.”
She offers to keep me company all the time, even saying she’ll work later on the mornings I get my treatment done. But, no matter how cold and calculating Victoria Gerhard is in the courtroom, she can’t hide the devastation of watching her only son hook up to a machine in order to continue living the semblance of a healthy life. It’s better for both of us if she keeps her distance.
“Nah. That’s okay. I’ll leave you to …” I lean forward to read the title of the book in her lap and give a scoff when I make out the words.
“Don’t you dare insult Jane Eyre.” Mom waves a scolding finger at me, and Dad chuckles as he returns to his papers.