36. Stasi
thirty-six
Stasi
T o say it’s a rough couple of weeks is an understatement.
Liam shuttles Beau to his neurology and therapy appointments during the weekdays, and I take over evening PT appointments so Liam can clock some time at the studio.
Beau spends most of his days napping or binge-watching TV. During week two of recovery, he complained about boredom, so I brought him a stack of manga—the only books I own besides textbooks.
Week three was where things took a turn for the worst. Beau slipped into a funk we can’t seem to pull him out of. I’ve done my best to stay strong, but I feel myself breaking down with every heavy sigh he releases.
Fifteen minutes until Liam’s home.
I’m counting down the minutes on the couch, snuggled up in one of Beau’s hoodies as I gloss over our shared calendar on my computer to make sure I haven’t missed adding Beau's appointments or reminders for Hail’s wedding.
It’s rare that the three of us are together anymore. I know it’s only going to get worse once Beau returns to the studio, and I have to crawl back to the hole that is my apartment. No more waking up squished between them every morning, reminding me that we are indeed a throuple.
At least, that’s what I’ve seen it called online.
Beau stumbles out of the dark hallway, his hood pulled over his hair. It’s hard watching him fumble around like a lost soul, doomed to haunt the townhouse.
Ten minutes.
I know Beau’s losing faith that physical therapy will help him. It’s something I see too often with my patients when they’re only partially through our time together.
Honestly, I think a part of him expected to regain full function of his right hand after the tumor was removed.
I keep encouraging him. These things take time. He’s made good progress with PT.
But when his eyes glaze over and his responses turn into mumbles, I question my ability to support him.
Beau shuffles over to kiss my cheek before wandering into the dark dining room where Liam purchased and stowed a keyboard in hopes of luring Beau down from the second floor of the house.
Hearing Beau’s melancholic chords chips away at me. He struggles through a song, and from my position on the couch, I glimpse his shoulders caving inward with each fumbled note.
My phone buzzes with a message. Assuming it’s Liam letting me know he’s almost home, I grab it and immediately realize my mistake.
It’s my dad.
I would like to make this very clear, Anastasia. Your mother and I will NOT be attending your brother’s wedding. We are NOT in support of his marriage. Mark us off the list.
My hands shake as I read over the message again, like it might change his mind about the invitations I sent out last week. Like it will correct a lifetime of verbal insults from a man I used to want to impress .
I’ve spent too many years striving to win the title of the golden child.
I was the one who didn’t suck up their precious resources.
I required little time and money from them.
And while I lost most of my scholarships due to major burnout in college, resulting in a lot of regrettable partying that further propelled the cycle of my self-disappointment, I never once asked them for help to pay a tuition bill.
As an adult, I’ve come to the sad conclusion that I’ll never win anything from them. Especially not with my current situation.
Doesn’t matter that I’m so fucking happy.
I think about Dave, and how accepting he was of us sharing space in Beau’s life. Why can’t parents just be happy for their children?
Are my parents even proud of Max?
I haven’t heard from my older brother in a while. Our relationship has always been shaky at best, but I’m a little concerned I’ve lost him in the war dividing our family. That he’s been poisoned to the dark side.
So then what do I have to lose telling them off?
I sink my chipped nails into my palms, my emotions further twisted by the broken song Beau’s fighting to play on the keyboard, occasionally hitting a sour note with his uncooperative fingers.
Cosmo pops his head up at the rumble of the garage door.
Thank god.
My worries ease at the jingle of keys and the heavy thud of boots. Liam appears, pausing at the end of the hall to listen to Beau. He gives nothing away in his body language.
When Liam finally glances at me, I must be wearing my emotions on my face because he strides over to scoop me up into his arms and carry me into the kitchen. He places me on the counter and moves between my legs.
“What do you need, angel?” he asks .
I run my fingers along the collar of his t-shirt, willing my voice to stay strong. “Beau to feel better.”
Liam smooths his big, inked hands over the sides of my face and into my hair. How he could ever believe he wasn’t cut out to love someone infuriates me. It makes me want to look up his dad’s plot and spit on his grave.
“He will. You’re doing so good taking care of him,” Liam replies in a soothing tone.
I nod, hating the prickle of tears in my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to make Beau more upset. So, I have to do better. I have to keep my chin up. I have to ignore the shit my parents are trying to stir up and be strong for my men.
“You need a break. Why don’t you get out of the house? Make a coffee run,” Liam suggests.
I glance in Beau’s direction.
“I’ve got him.”
“He’s due for his anti-seizure meds in an hour,” I reply.
“I know.”
“He hasn’t eaten much today.”
“I’ll start grilling pork chops as soon as you walk out that door.”
“You’re going to grill out in the cold?”
Carefully, he slides me off the counter and molds our bodies together. “The cold doesn’t scare me. And I’ll have you back here soon enough to warm me up.”
Biting down on a smile, I push up on my toes to kiss him. He trails his mouth over to my ear and murmurs, “Stay right here.”
Confused, I watch him disappear down the hall. Keys jingle, followed by the garage door opening. He returns a few minutes later with a black Atonement hoodie .
“Car is warming up,” he says, motioning for me to lift my arms.
When I do, he tugs his hoodie over my head. I breathe in the fresh scent of his laundry detergent.
“Thank you. Cold brew or latte?”
“Surprise me.”
Slipping into the dining room, guilt prods at me as I take in Beau’s sad form. He hasn’t moved from the keyboard.
I wrap an arm around his shoulders and kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna run a quick errand. Liam’s home, okay?”
He turns to kiss me fully, and I almost cancel my little adventure. This is stupid. I’ve been waiting hours for the three of us to be together. Why does it feel like I’m running away?
Because I’m no good to either of them in this state.
“Be careful, sweetheart,” Beau breathes on my lips.
Before I can change my mind, I hop into my toasty car and drive to the nearest coffee shop.
As soon as the drive-thru employee hands me three giant caramel lattes, I pull into a parking spot and take a long drink.
I wait for a rush of dopamine to hit, but when that first sip feeling never comes, I drop my head into my hands and force a couple of deep breaths.
Everything feels heavy right now. Beau's mental state. The inevitable break up of my family.
The thought pops in my head to call Hail, but I don’t want to keep bugging him when I’m having a rough day. Especially when I know I’ll just end up venting about dad’s text, and he couldn’t care less about our parent’s opinions .
Ryan might entertain my mood. However, I’m not sure we’re at that level of friendship yet. We haven’t done anything outside of brunches, which we’ve missed since Beau’s surgery.
And Emma’s busy running a studio like a badass. Though she did manage to sneak out one afternoon to get another manicure with me.
There is one person who might be able to snap me out of this, if she’ll even open her door to me.
I haven’t visited Iris once. She probably assumes I abandoned her like everyone else in her life.
I shoot Liam a text that I’ll be a little while longer and swing into a grocery store parking lot to pick out a bouquet of flowers and some basic groceries. Then I drive to Iris’s assisted living facility.
Soaked to the bone, I stroll inside with the extra coffees and pass them out to residents sitting in the lobby. I’ll get new ones when I head back to Liam’s townhouse.
The speed at which Iris whips open her door in a flowery dress and a fresh perm has me wondering if she had her eye glued to the peephole or if her therapy worked that well and she ran to the door.
I wish I could say I’ve had that much of a success with Beau's recovery. Wish I could fix him, too.
“You seem to be getting around well.” I smile.
“Good lord, you look like shit. Do I need to call these boyfriends of yours and yell at them to let you get some sleep?”
I know better than to start apologizing. She’ll just lay into me harder.
“I’m getting plenty of sleep,” I reply.
Iris grabs my arm in a surprisingly strong grip and tugs me into her cute little apartment decorated with lush green plants and hand-painted teacups. “How unfortunate for you. When do I get to meet them?”
Besides the brunch crew, I haven’t shared Beau and Liam with anyone.
“Soon,” I tell her, intrigued by the idea of Beau charming her and Liam making her swoon.
Flipping through Iris’s kitchen cabinets as she takes a seat in her recliner, I stow away the milk and eggs I bought her and dig out a vintage vase to put her flowers in.
“You think that’s going to make up for you not visiting?”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “I know you’re not that easy.”
“So, what’s the status on the boy toys?”
“I’d much rather hear about how you’re doing, Iris.”
“Boring. You do the talking first.”
I drop into one of the creaky wooden chairs at her little dining table. “Things are...a little difficult right now. Beau had a craniotomy to remove a brain tumor. He’s healing, but there’s only so much I can help with on the physical side.”
Iris mulls this over, her icy eyes locked on me. “Being cooped up while having to accept changes with your body ain’t easy.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree, lowering my gaze.
“Well, you’re the gal to get him through it.”
Sadness bleeds into my chest. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what else to do to help him.”
Iris is quiet for a while. “I still remember the first date I had with my Emil.”
Eyes wide, my head snaps up to her. I watch her shaky fingers stroke over the gold band hung around her neck by a thin, smooth chain.
“He was the first friend I made when my family moved down here during my junior year of high school. Showed up at my door with a bow tie and a picnic basket. He remembered I’d mentioned my love for brownies during lunch at school one day.
Told me he spent the morning in the kitchen with his mom, learning to bake them. ”
“Iris, that’s incredibly sweet.”
“We sat beneath the willow tree in my backyard for hours talking about everything. Two years later, we were married in front of that same tree.”
A smile eases onto my face. Iris waves a hand like she’s trying to dissolve the memory. “My point is the small things you do every day can make a big difference in someone's life.”
I reflect on the months I’ve spent with Beau and Liam, noting the things that made them happy. Cookies, fresh strawberries, stars and sunsets, dates, camping…
Glancing out the windows, I frown at the sheet of rain falling from the gray sky.
Definitely gonna have to get creative with this one.
I chat with Iris for a bit longer, catching up on her dominating victories during bunko hours.
Promising to return soon, I say goodbye and rush back to the grocery store for additional supplies before swooping through the coffee shop drive-thru again.
Only this time, I’m in much better spirits as the same employee hands over another tray of drinks and a frequent customer punch card.