Tilt (76 page)

I have always planned to go.

Why leave home, especially when

your boyfriend is going to stay put,

too? Except he’s not my boyfriend

anymore. And if Mom and Dad stay

on their current path, who knows

where home might be next year?

I could go to college somewhere

else. Or skip it altogether. Travel

Europe with a backpack and

a college fund expense account.

Meet some amazing guy, sipping

cappuccino in Paris. The possibilities

are limitless. Except with a baby.

Dylan

A Baby

Was not in my plans, and

the weird thing is, this ugly mess

has opened an unforeseen door.

I

had it in my mind that I would

stay in Reno, go to UNR. Maybe

share an apartment with Mikki

or something. But since there

will

be no Mikki, I decided to join

the Marines as soon as I turn

eighteen. Fuck it. I could use

a little adventure. Yes, there’s

always

the possibility of deployment

to some third world hellhole.

Maybe it would make me man up.

I’m pretty sure there will never

be

another girl in my life quite like

Mikki. But if there is, I’ll do things

differently. I never, ever again

want to feel so goddamn

sorry.

Share

I’m Sorry

Someone keeps saying that.

Over and over. I think it’s. . . 

“Mom?” I open my eyes.

Where the hell am I? Everything

is blizzard white. But it’s warm.

And it stinks like alcohol. So

it must be, “Am I in the hospital?”

Mom, who is sitting in a chair

beside the bed I seem to be in,

jumps to her feet, grabs my hand.

Shane? Oh, honey! Look at me.

I try, but it’s hard to focus

past whatever tubes they’ve stuck

in my nose, apparently to breathe

for me. “Wha-what happened?”

The emotion in her eyes segues

from relief to suspicion.
You don’t

remember?
When I shake my head,

she goes rigid.
You. . .  you. . .  you

tried to kill yourself. If not for Alex,

we’d be planning another funeral.

Kill Myself?

Did I try to kill myself? Wait.

Splats of memory—

Cold.

Really cold.

Snow falling as I slipped

across the icy driveway.

Jäger.

Pills, three or four.

Maybe more. I don’t remember.

Lying on the bed,

waiting for the heater.

Something about air.

Sliding toward darkness.

Spinning.

Alex.

Yes, I called Alex, to. . . 

To say goodbye.

But I didn’t try to die.

Did I?

Why Would I?

Almost as soon as I think it,

Mom echoes the question.

Why, Shane? Why would you?

Before I can respond, to tell her

I’m not sure why I would or if

I even did, she hits me with,

How could you be so selfish?

How could you do that to me?

Something detonates inside me.

Something hot and vile and raging.

“Why is everything about
you,

Mom? What the fuck about me?

When was the last time you talked

to me, or really looked at me, or

even thought about me? Goddamn

it! For years, you were all about

Shelby, and I got that you had to be.

When she died, I thought maybe. . .”

My heart knocks in my chest and

I’m wheezing. But I can’t stop now.

“I thought maybe you would pay

attention to me. But, no. Now, you want

a baby. A Shelby replacement. Only

better because the baby won’t be sick.

She’ll be cute and sweet and you can

dress her up and take her for walks

and show her off. . . .” I’m running out

of steam. But I manage to repeat,

“What the fuck about me, Mom?”

Tears drip onto my chest from eyes

that can’t meet mine. She doesn’t say

anything for a while. Then, finally,

I—I. . .  I don’t know what to say except

I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve been so sad. . . .

“Yeah, Mom. Me, too.” That makes

her look at me. She shakes her head.

Slowly, as if understanding is settling in.

You’re right. About everything.

Maybe we should all get help. Together.

That She’s Willing

To admit she might need help

is a giant step in the right

direction. I’ve known I need help

for a while. I was just too proud

or scared or straight-out stupid

to ask for it. You can’t conquer

every demon on your own.

“Hey. I don’t suppose Alex would

happen to be around here somewhere?”

She smiles.
Of course he is.

It’s not regular visiting hours,

but I’m happy to tell them he’s your

brother. As long as you don’t kiss

him when a nurse is in the room.

It wouldn’t seem too brotherly.

She goes to get him. It feels like

we came a long way in a few minutes.

But not nearly as far as we have to go.

Brianna

In a Few Minutes

The “Wedding March” will start.

Not played on the organ,

but a recorded version by the old

band Queen. According to

Harley,

it’s rockin’. I’m pretty sure I prefer

it traditional. But, hey, not my choice.

For a church wedding, this one

is

condemned to be off the wall.

Harl says Cassandra’s dress

is even shorter than hers is.

Of course, Harley’s is scarlet.

Still,

red, white or silver (!), you sort of

expect a bride not to flash thigh

during her vows. I will do

my best

not to judge her, any more than

I look down on Harley for things

she’s done. Whatever. I’ll always

be here for her. That’s what a real

friend

does.

Harley

Here I Am