Chapter Twenty-Seven Prue #2
“Breathe for me,” he commands gently. “It’s going to be okay…
I’ve got you.” And, foolishly, I believe him.
Maybe he won’t be here forever. Maybe the hard truth I should’ve come to terms with a long time ago is that nothing can stay forever.
But he’s got me now. And that can be enough. I can make it enough… right ?
“Dad…” I say, sitting up and wiping more snot and tears onto the sleeve of my sweater. “He’s…” My heart breaks all over again when I look into Milo’s eyes, so full of weight and heartache of his own. “He’s sick,” I whisper.
Milo sighs, the heavy, tired sort, before his face turns downward. “Shit…” He looks back toward me after a long, drawn-out pause. “How did you find out?”
“I saw it on his computer,” I answer. “There were these pills on his desk he’d never mentioned needing to pick up…. I went to look them up and then—” I hiccup again, then fight to catch my breath. “He’s known for so long, Mi. Months. His ultimatum, everything, it’s all bullshit. I-it-it’s—”
“Killer, seriously, I need you to breathe.” He rubs a circle over my back, bunching the fabric of my sweater as he goes. “He’s going to be okay, though, right? The prognosis looks good if he still starts in January?”
“Yeah, he is. And I know that I should—” I pause, my heart lurching into my throat.
“Wait,” I say, searching his face. Milo’s throat tightens on a swallow, his eyes falling to the space between us as his lips drop into a frown.
“ Milo. ” I say his name, so hesitantly, so fearfully, in a way I never have before. “Milo, how did you know that?”
He blinks irregularly, his dark eyelashes moving like moth’s wings. “Prue—”
“No, no, Milo, no.” I sit up, forcing his hands to fall to the side of his lap. “How did you know that?” I ask slowly.
He keeps his face turned away from me, pushing one hand through his hair before resting it on the back of his neck. “Tom told me.”
“Told you?” I ask, moving away from him. “Wh-when?”
He turns toward me, his expression hardened into a pleading sadness. “Prue…”
“You knew what? About his cancer? H-he told you ?”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father was sick, that my—” I pause, shaking myself. “That he put off treatment? That he won’t be able to run the store soon? That he can’t help look after Mom? Why would he—Why would you …”
“Prue, I…Tom was going to tell you, tomorrow. He—”
“Tell me what?”
“Everything, I think.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“That’s convenient.”
“He was, I swear.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He takes his face into his hands then slides them up, resting his forehead against his wrists as his fingers pull at his hair.
“Answer me!” I yell, unexpectedly. I shake myself, crossing my arms in front of my chest as a hysterical laugh breaks free. I pace in small circles, holding myself tightly. “How long have you been lying to me?”
“I’m not sure, exactly,” Milo whispers. “That night we spent in your parents’ living room after I’d—”
“Then?” I ask, my voice wavering. “You’ve known for that long? What…Why?”
For a moment, it’s quiet, everything sounding far-off and muffled.
I hear the creaking step beneath his foot, sounding off every half second as he bounces his knee.
I hear the faint sounds of the brewery down the road, the party ongoing.
I hear the crickets and the lake and the fucking cicadas, but I do not hear a reason. An apology. An explanation.
Instead, Milo just covers his face with his hands once more, hiding from me.
“Why?” I ask, my heart threatening to pound out of my chest. “Just…tell me why.”
Milo lifts his head as if it’s heavier than his neck can bare. Looking up at me, the moonlight reflects the wetness in his eyes and casts his exhausted expression in a perfect, white glow. “He asked me not to tell you.”
“Why would he…Why you ?” I ask, pacing in a small circle. “Why would he tell you ?”
“I was just…there, I guess. I’m not sure. I think that’s a better question for Tom.”
“You don’t get to think right now!” I snap. “I want to know why my father would tell a near-perfect stranger that he’s sick and that everything in his life is falling apart when he wouldn’t even tell his own daughter.”
“I can’t tell you—”
“This is insane!” I say, cutting him off as I fight off another bitter wave of laughter. “It’s…”
“Prue, it’s complicated.”
“Okay, so uncomplicate it for me! Please explain to me how the fuck he came to the decision to not tell me. Matter of fact, while you’re at it, please tell me why you chose not to tell me too. Explain why you’d rather save face with him than be honest with me.”
“Prue, I…I don’t know. I can’t—”
I scream into my hands, interrupting him. “This is—You are—” Shaking my head, I groan as a thousand thoughts fail to find the right phrasing. “You are supposed to be my friend. We’re supposed to trust each other! That’s the whole point of—”
“I am your friend,” Milo interrupts forcefully. “I am, I just—”
“What?”
“Tom confided in me and I didn’t—”
“Is this ”—I gesture between us—“is this even real? I thought we could trust each other, Milo. I trusted you! Which, yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have—I mean, you’re you and I’m me, it was probably never going to work — but I let myself think…
I thought…And what was your plan? Comfort me and pretend you never knew? Leave before I found out?”
“I didn’t have a plan,” he says, looking up at the sky. “I just wanted…” His fists ball at his sides before he opens them and rubs both hands over his thighs. “What do you mean it was never going to work between—”
“No more secrets, Milo. I’m giving you one chance to tell me everything before I never speak to you again.”
“Don’t say that,” Milo says, immediately standing. “Prue, you don’t mean that. Don’t say it.”
“If you won’t even tell me now how or why or what is going on”—I shake my head, taking a step back as he approaches—“I won’t be able to do this anymore…. Whatever this is. Was . I shouldn’t—I can’t.”
Milo stands still, both of his hands hold the back of his neck before his arms drop to his side. “Prue, I can’t lose you.”
I stare coldly back at him. “Then explain.”
“Tom wanted my help,” he says quickly. “He wanted me to convince you that you should leave town. He was scared you would feel trapped here once you found out. That you’d never leave because you’d feel obligated to stay and…he wanted me to help you see that there was more out there for you.”
I blink at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“He knew you wouldn’t consider leaving if you found out he was sick. He wanted you to decide for yourself and—”
“Let me get this straight…He wanted your help convincing me to leave so he could fight cancer on his own while my mom would be taken care of by strangers…And you agreed to that?”
His mouth opens and closes a few times before his eyes drift shut underneath pinched brows. “I wanted to tell you, Prue. I knew…I knew you’d want to know. I wanted to tell you the truth because I—”
“But you didn’t,” I say, looking up at him. “You didn’t tell me the truth. You lied.”
“No, I—”
“No, you did. You lied. But it’s worse than that because you let me believe that I could fix it all too, despite knowing I couldn’t. You helped me with Mom. You helped me get a better handle on things around the house…. You made it seem possible. I thought you were on my side.”
“I am on your side, Prue. I want you to stay. I want you to have your family together. I want to help. I never doubted—”
“But you’re leaving!” My lips tremble at the words. “What was I supposed to do when you left? How was I ever supposed to do all of this on my own? You let me have hope…and you—”
“Is everything all right out here?” Tracy asks, stepping through the back door. Her eyes find me first, then move to glare at Milo. “I heard shouting.”
I wipe my tears away. “Sorry, Tracy. Everything’s fine,” I say, nodding at her. “Milo was just leaving.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Milo says, not taking his eyes off me.
“It’s okay.” I smile at Tracy softly. “I’m fine, I promise.”
She looks between us hesitantly, then nods back at me. “I’m inside if you need me.”
“Thank you,” I say. I turn back toward Milo once she’s closed the door. I sniff, then straighten my posture as I look at him. “Milo, I think you should go.”
“Prue, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be but—”
“You didn’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Convince me to leave.”
“I know that, Prue. I didn’t want—”
“Despite your very impressive efforts…Bonus points for telling me about all of the places you’d love to take me to…That was very clever. I don’t know if that was Dad’s idea or yours but, nice touch.”
“Prue, c’mon, don’t—”
“You should go.”
Milo shakes his head. “He was going to tell you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
“He was. And then I was—”
“You were going to what ? Be here to pick up the pieces? Pretend you didn’t know? Tell me you’ll fix it before taking off in a month, or maybe less? How kind of you.”
“No! I—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” he says, moving closer to me, but stopping beyond arm’s reach. “Prue, I’m in—”
“I trusted you, Milo,” I interrupt. “That’s hard for me.”
“I know, Prue. I’m—”
“I trusted you with my mom, with my body, with my h—” I stop myself, barely, before letting the word heart slip out. “I can’t do this. You need to go…I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Prue, wait. Just listen to me, please. I want to stay,” he says, sniffing back tears of his own. “For the first time ever, I want to stay. Here. With you. To help and… Please let me—”
“That’s not fair,” I interrupt him once more. “You can’t just…I’m sorry but…I can’t hear that right now. I can’t…I don’t…I need you to go. This is way too much.” I walk toward the back door without another glance, knowing that if I turn to see him, I won’t have the strength to close it behind me.
“Prue, please, wait!” Milo shouts seconds before I shut the door.
Then, there’s nothing but silence. Lonely, horrible, sickening silence until the outside wall creaks under what I suspect is Milo’s weight leaning against it. I turn without thought, prepared to open the door and…well, I’m not sure. I’ve never felt this confused before, unsure of what to do.
My hand moves to the doorknob, ready to yell or cry or kiss or scream or plead with him until we’re worn out but laughing again and I feel like there’s some semblance of hope for a way forward.
But, I hesitate. And when I open the door, the porch is empty.
It was just the wind.
He’s gone.
I asked Milo Kablukov to leave when all I’ve wanted for weeks now is to ask him to stay. And, he listened.