Chapter Nineteen
I’m operating on autopilot for the rest of the night.
I make the right faces and the right sounds—I think—as I feed the girls and reassure them that their brother is just having a hard time, and not descending into the sort of self-destructive alcoholism that a lot of people would say he was born to.
I don’t know who I’m working harder to convince, them or myself.
Nobody really seems to be buying it. Everything is quiet between the three of us, moving through the basic routine of homework and showers and a tense dinner in front of the TV.
When I tell them it’s time for bed, they don’t even complain. They both look as worn out as I feel.
Whenever they stay here, they share the bedroom that used to be mine. It’s always something I like to see. We really should clear out one of the other rooms still full of junk so they don’t have to share, but I’ve been dragging my feet on that.
I’ve spent so much time in that room being miserable that having it spackled over with their particular brand of chaos and noise always makes those memories seem like a bad dream.
But of course, tonight when I go to make sure they’re ready to go to sleep, the old familiar tension of my childhood has seeped back into the atmosphere.
Sky is already out; face slack and a soft snore coming from her.
But Maddi is in bed, propped up by a pillow, tapping on her phone as the light from the screen illuminates her face.
She’s somber, biting her lip slightly as she concentrates in a way Cade does sometimes as well, and only glances at me briefly when I open the door.
“You good?” I whisper, feeling suddenly unsure of my role in this little family drama.
Maddi finishes what she’s typing, sighs, and holds the space for a long time before she finally looks at me.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, ignoring my question.
Sky, thankfully, can sleep through almost anything.
Still, I walk into the room so I can sit on the edge of her bed and not have to talk across the room.
It’s hard to look her in the eye, because more than anything I want her to look back at me and see someone strong.
Someone who’s going to keep her safe. But I don’t have any more idea of what to do right now than she does.
“What do you think I should do?”
She snorts, rolling her eyes at me the way she’s started doing constantly. I recognize all the prickliness for what it is—a defense—and I don’t feel like I have any right to tell her to drop the attitude, considering none of us have been able to be a real defense for her, either.
“Tell him to get his shit together, before he loses everything he has. Just like our dad.”
I stare at her, because I wasn’t expecting her words to come out with quite so much rage. She’s quiet, but now that she’s talking, I can see all that anger simmering under the surface. Also just like Cade.
“You don’t think it’s my job to take care of him?”
Maddi stares at me for a second, but instead of rolling her eyes again, she keeps talking.
“Why? Because you love him? He loves us, but look how far that got him. Totally ran himself into the ground. He loves you, but it makes him crazy. It was always going to end up like this. Save yourself the trouble.”
She’s fighting to keep a straight face, but her cheeks are flushed and I can see all that emotion threatening to surge out. I feel like I’m finally peeking beneath her closed-off facade into darker fears she’s always carried, and I hate that I can’t tell her she never needed to worry about it.
Words of wisdom aren’t my strong suit. And while I’ve gotten close with Cade’s sisters in the year we’ve been together, it’s not the same thing as actually being their parent.
I feel pretty adrift when it comes to stuff like this, and Cade’s normally the one having meaningful talks and whatever else with them.
“There has to be a way for people to love each other without imploding in the process. That’s what I keep telling myself. None of us knows how it works, because we all had garbage-fire childhoods, as Cade would say.”
She interrupts me to huff again, but I keep going.
“There are happy people in the world. Including people who had shitty upbringings. There has to be a way to just get there, eventually.” I shrug.
“Maybe the fact that I love him enough to stay and keep trying to take care of him is what he needs right now. Instead of all of us giving up, assuming he’s going to end up the way all our parents did. ”
I reach toward her, feeling the familial urge to comfort her, but my hand drops as soon as she flinches away.
I can see the fear eating away at her, and I need to do something about it, before we both collapse.
“I’m not going anywhere, Maddi.” There’s conviction in my voice when I say it, because I’m realizing this might be what she really needs to hear right now. “Even if Cade keeps fucking up. Even if I keep fucking up. We’ll figure it out.”
She stares at me, her expression flinty with no hint of a reaction for me to read.
I reach out again, but this time I hold my fist at a distance and let her come to me.
More seconds drag by, but she ultimately puts down her phone long enough to fist-bump me back. It’s cheesy, but it feels like progress.
“Everything will be okay,” I tell myself more than her.
She’s not convinced, but I think her features have softened at least a fraction by the time I let myself out of their room.
I feel like the human embodiment of a sigh as I drag myself back downstairs. I’m so lost in my head thinking about all the shit that needs to be dealt with, I jump a mile when I notice Cade isn’t asleep, he’s standing in the doorway to our room with a shifty expression and a tremble in his hands.
“You’re up,” I say, like an idiot. I try to force myself back into crisis mode instead of drifting on my internal monologue, but I’m tired and it’s not something I’ve ever excelled at. “You should drink some water.”
Cade snorts, a shallow echo of the conversation I just had with his sister. He fidgets a little where he stands, and I realize he’s not meeting my eye.
“Why don’t you lie back down and I’ll get you something to eat. You should probably put something in your body before you pass out.”
Blowing out a long breath, Cade still doesn’t meet my eye, but starts to walk past me as he speaks.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure you’re tired, you should relax. I’ll get out of your hair.”
My eyes narrow, because even though the words he’s saying sound normal, none of this feels right.
“What—” I break off, before repeating myself. “What? Where are you going?”
It’s 9 p.m.. He’s slept for a handful of hours after being awake for about 30 and he looks like he’s been waterboarded by the devil in his dreams. He stops moving at my question, but still doesn’t look at me. Instead, he hangs his head, hands still a little shaky, and speaks to the floor.
“I just need a minute. Can you please leave me be? I need a minute alone, so I can fucking… process everything without my sisters around to see.” Cade looks at me, and his face is as wrecked as I feel. “I’ll come home later. It’ll be fine. I just… I just need a minute.”
There’s a very good chance my mouth is hanging open.
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen Cade like this before, and I feel completely out of my element.
I want him to stay. But I don’t want him to feel chained here, like I’m beginning to think he does.
If he believes I’ll fall apart every time he leaves, he’ll keep putting me first until he finally collapses in on himself in a state of eternal decay.
“Cade…” I start, before immediately trailing off, no idea what I was going to follow that up with.
He stops moving and stands in the entryway, his body sagging, not making eye contact with me.
“What happened?” I ask.
Something had to have happened. Something is happening right now, I just don’t understand it.
He exhales loudly, still not turning to look at me.
“I just need a minute,” he says, almost too quiet for me to hear. “I promise I’ll be back.”
There’s a split-second where I wish I knew what to say to stop him, but then he picks up the keys and disappears through the door before I can find the words.