33. Luke
CHAPTER 33
Luke
Sitting on one of the barstools, I try to type as fast as I can, wrapping up the email I’m writing to the couple who bought Grandma’s house. I want to text Gigi and tell her that we’re finally out of escrow but stop myself from doing it. We rarely text each other anymore. I’ll just tell her once I’m back at home and she can give me a half-hearted shrug like she always does.
My manager knows that hiring students as employees comes with certain strings. That we have exams and paperwork is one of them. Knowing that I’m always good for it and am a hard worker, and that I’ll probably be gone as soon as I graduate, he lets me catch up on schoolwork when the place is dead.
I pinch my eyes, trying to draw my attention away from the twenty fucking Google tabs I currently have open. A few for scholarship applications for the master’s program I just got into, a couple for job boards since a full-time position instead of studying again might be the better course for us, another for childcare, and the rest are dedicated to my research on young parents. My life is in shambles and my search history is proof of that.
Chuckling to myself, I let my new reality sink in. I came to this town almost four years ago thinking I was going to spend my time here, finally enjoying my days like a normal kid, studying, and making sure I had a decent start to my adult life. Now here I am with a wife who hates me, twins that need me, and no direction whatsoever as to what’s next for me.
I’m supposed to discuss these things with Gigi. We need to figure out the steps together. And you see, realization is a funny thing. I guess I was also supposed to do that before I started taking all the jobs, fixing up that rundown house, and forcing us to save most of our money. That wasn’t a decision I should’ve made independently, yet I did it anyway like a goddamn idiot, ignorant partner.
It wouldn’t surprise me if now Gigi doesn’t want to plan our lives together anymore. My mouth sours remembering the alarming divorce rates of teen parents I read up. Technically, I wasn’t a teenager, but I might as well have been.
My phone vibrates next to my laptop. I tilt my head back in confusion when I see it’s Gigi who’s calling me. Her talking to me through text when I’m out of the house nowadays is like winning the lottery. To have her actually call me is a pipe dream. I hate that I did this to her. I gave her the feeling like I couldn’t be bothered.
“Luke?”
Her whispery tone sounds soft and vulnerable. Fuck. Gigi doesn’t use this voice with me anymore. Usually it’s short-worded answers with an air of nonchalance. Hate to say this, I really do, but what goes around really does come around because her new personality is the old Luke. The one that existed before Gigi thawed me with her sunshine.
“Hey, Gi. Everything okay with you? Are the twins okay?” I get straight to the point because let’s face it, if she’s calling me, it’s not to chat about our day.
“We’re fine. Luke, I don’t want you to panic,” she says gently. “But you need to pick us up and we need to drive to Kinsdale Springs. Your dad was in an accident.”
My brain keeps repeating two phrases in a torturous loop as we fidget in the waiting room. Blood alcohol level and car crash . Dad was about to pick Becca up from her friend’s house but got into a car crash instead. Forget his blood alcohol level being higher than the legal limit, it was through the roof.
I don’t try to fake sadness for the man who was about to put my little sister in danger. Fuck him and fuck his sobriety chips. He lied to me, and like a stupid child clinging to the last remaining hope that maybe my father has changed, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I should’ve known better that my babysitting duty was far from over.
Guilt is knocking on the front door of my conscience. Trusting that he was sober and loosening my grip on Becca to go to college were things I shouldn’t have indulged in.
“I’m sorry, Luke,” Bianca croaks. “I should’ve seen the signs.”
I scrub my face with my hand and sigh. I guess this is what happens when old people meet on the internet and decide to get married after living out a relationship based on phone calls and weekend trips. Bianca’s great. A workaholic, but great. She was the perfect match for someone who traveled around for work, even better for a person trying to hide the fact that he fell off the wagon.
“It’s not your fault, Bianca. This one’s on me. He was acting weird when I met him last time. I asked him whether he was drinking again, and he said no, so I left it at that. I chalked it up to him being upset about me and Gigi.” I leave out the part where he was downright cruel with his words.
Next to us, Gigi is pushing the baby pram back and forth, making sure the twins get some sleep, while cuddling a sobbing Becca who’s sandwiched between us two.
“I’m sorry I’ve been busy, kid,” I tell Becca. Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? I haven’t only not paid attention to Gigi, but Becca, too. I’ve missed a lot of our standing FaceTime dates. I don’t even want to imagine what my life would be like right now if she had been in that car.
Before Becca can answer, a man who must be my dad’s surgeon comes out. Bianca stands up next to me and walks to him with me following behind.
“Bianca.” He looks at my mother-in-law before turning his gaze to me.
“I’m Lucas Palmer,” I introduce myself. “I’m Vincent Palmer’s son.”
He introduces himself as Dr. Ames, a colleague of Bianca’s, and takes off his face mask, dangling it on one ear. People don’t look that somber when they’re about to tell you that a patient is going to pull through, and my observation is spot on.
“Bianca, Lucas, I’m afraid I have bad news. We couldn’t control the hemorrhage. I’m sorry, but we did everything we could.”
Bianca starts crying next to me as she presses Dr. Ames for more details. I give him a nod before turning on my heel, knowing that I’m about to break my sister’s heart.
“Hey, Becca,” I say, claiming the seat next to her back. Gigi takes one look at me and she already knows. She presses on my shoulder and I think her expression softens. “I need to tell you something.”
Becca looks up at me. “He didn’t make it, did he?” she asks, her eyes brimming with tears. “Because he was drinking alcohol and drove.” Becca hunches and whispers in a much lower voice, “I overheard Bianca telling you what happened.”
My sister doesn’t remember, but I do. I know what it feels like to be given the news that a parent has died. I was twelve, a year older than her, when Mom passed away. What that day was like, Uncle Mike’s words, everything is branded in my fucking brain.
“I’m so, so sorry, Becca,” I say. Because I am sorry for her. She got more out of Dad than I ever did. Whatever good memory I had of him before the fire is now tainted with years’ worth of his emotional abuse and neglect. I’ve grieved that man long enough. I’m not going to sugarcoat it and say I’m devastated right now, but I know my sister is.
“Do I have to go to a foster home now?” Gigi and I both look at each other wide-eyed, hearing her question.
“What do you mean?” Gigi asks gently when she sees that I’m too shell-shocked to answer.
Swinging her legs, Becca whispers, “Some orphans that go to our church live in foster homes. Bianca’s not my real mom.”
My heart stops when I realize that Becca’s not fucking wrong. Jesus Christ, we may be orphans now, but my sister is a minor. What will happen to her now? I want to tell her that she’s going to live with me, but I don’t know if that’s even possible. I have twins, no full-time job, and we live with Kai. Would the state even consider me, or would the case worker that’s going to be assigned to her laugh in my face? Would Gigi even agree to it? Would this be the last straw for Gigi before she decides that I have too much baggage?