“I know that but—”
She cuts in. “Believe me, I’ve felt horrible about it my whole life. I tried to help him as he got older. By then, I knew he was messed up. Every time I tried to talk to him he either told me to fuck off or he acted like he didn’t know who I was. Then he moved out of the house and into the shed, and then he lived with friends and again, I thought he would be okay. Later our father took off, never to be heard from again, and our mother passed away and she left him that house and he just let it go. I lived nearby, I’d see him in town walking around with the dog all the time, and playing that guitar for money, and I’d try so hard to help him, to get him to come home with me, but I couldn’t get through to him. He would tell me he had a headache and that he had to walk from the voices and listen to the rain and the birds, and some days he seemed perfectly normal and we’d have a nice chat and play with the dog. I never knew if he was high, or sick like our mother, and I couldn’t convince him to go to a doctor. I tried many, many times. I don’t know why he chose to live on the streets like he did. He had a home, he had money, he had me. He just wanted to be alone.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Are you saying that house with the porch in Amherst—with the shed in the backyard—is his?”
She nods. “Yes. It’s been his for years. It’s just sitting there, falling apart. He had quite a bit of money left for him that our mother had from her own parents that she left for both of us, and as far as I know, he never touched it. I thought for sure once he got his life together, and made this amazing career for himself, that he’d either restore the house or sell it, but it’s still sitting there.”
The whole time he lived in that old dirty shed, Blue was home.
“I feel sick,” I say, putting my hands up in surrender. “I really don’t know if I can handle all this.”
Reece stands and comes over to kneel next to my chair. He puts his arms around me and holds me as I cry, and I just want to disappear. My head is swimming with confusion and fear. Is Blue really crazy? Has he been crazy the entire time I’ve known him? I just can’t believe that.
I pull away and wipe my face with a napkin Ellie hands me. “What about Lyric?” I ask, trembling. “Is this hereditary? Could she be sick?”
“No,” Reece says quickly. “No. Lyric is fine.”
He has to be right. Lyric has never acted strange. She’s intelligent, and creative, and caring, social, and completely normal.
The door to the waiting room swings open and Blue’s doctor enters.
Finally.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
I’m fuming.
Fuming.
The doctor only allowed Ellie to go in to see Blue, because she’s family. Not me—the woman who’s loved him forever and has stood by him no matter what and who’s been crying and going crazy with worry and who is the mother of his child.
“I can’t believe this,” I say to Reece as I pace the small room. “We should be in there with him. Not her. Does he even like her?”
“Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t like her.”
I stop pacing to stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. “What does that mean?”
“He’s probably not ready to see us, because he cares about us and he knows we care about him. I’d guess we’d be pretty hard for him to face. Especially you.”
God. He’s right.
Ellie isn’t gone for more than twenty minutes when she comes back to the waiting room. I practically jump on her like a starving wild animal.
“How is he? Is he all right? Is he in a lot of pain? What did he say?”
Reece touches my arm. “Piper, give her a sec.”
I am giving her a sec.
She falls into one of the chairs and sighs. “He’s a mess of casts and bandages and cuts and bruises. He looks like he went through a hurricane. It’s dreadful.”
“Oh my God…”
“But he’s going to be fine.” She grabs my hand. “He’s going to heal, maybe get a little plastic surgery for that cut on his face, but he’ll be good as new, Piper. It’s going to take a while, of course, and he’s going to need some physical therapy, but his body will heal.”
“Good,” Reece says with relief, but I’m still stuck on the plastic surgery comment. How deep did he get cut? “Did he talk at all?”
“Very little. He seemed surprised to see me, which I expected. His usual attitude is still there.”
“But what did he say?” I ask impatiently.
“If you really want to know, he said he fucked this up just like he fucks everything else up.”
Reece scoffs and shakes his head. “So typical,” he says.
I’m crushed speechless. Blue actually thinks living is a failure? Does that mean he wishes he had died and still wants to die?
Why?
“He asked to see you,” Ellie says to Reece, further annihilating my heart. “You have to see the nurse before you go in, she’ll tell you what you have to take off. Like your shoelaces. And we’re not supposed to ask him questions about why he did it, or say anything to guilt him or upset him in any way.”
Confusion and heartache have me at a total loss for words as I watch Reece leave the room.
Blue must want to see me last. That’s why he asked to see Reece before me.
“You don’t want to see him like this, honey,” Ellie says. “He’s such a handsome man. You don’t want to see him all bruised and swollen and cut up, trust me. It’s not a pretty sight.”
Does she really think I wouldn’t want to see him? Has this woman ever loved a man before? “I want to see him no matter what, Ellie. I just want to tell him I love him and I’m here for him. I want to tell him we’ll get through this together, so he knows he’s not alone in this anymore.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Oops.
I fucked that jump up hardcore.
At the time it seemed right. Quick. Easy. Painless. The perfect tragic and messy ending. The bird was talking to me again. He hadn’t for a while, but then he showed up—when I was exhausted and strung out on uppers and downers and all-arounders. He sat on my shoulder and watched me read all the comments online about what a coward I am. How I’ve wrecked the band. How the fans hate me. How pathetic I am.
I was a fool to think life was going good. Was I really stupid enough to think I could just leave the band, marry my girl, escape everything, and live happily ever after?
I shoulda known I couldn’t go quietly.
Then the bird started.
It’s time to end the madness, Blue.
It’s way overdue.
You can’t escape. They won’t let you.
You don’t have to hurt anymore.
Nobody loves you. I do, though.
Everyone else hates you. You’re a disappointment. A quitter. A freak.
Piper and Lyric will be embarrassed of you. You’ll be a has-been.
Remember when it was just you and me? Remember how good it was?
Come up here. Near the trees. You can fly!
You can be free!
And here I am, all fucked up, numbed out on approved medication. Another failure to add to my list of many. I feel sick and cut open like someone put a window in me and they’re all looking inside—seeing the river of disease in my veins. Everyone knows my secrets now.
I sorta feel relieved—for the same reason. Because everyone knows the real me now.
I don’t have to hide anymore. It’s been exhausting.
They’ll take care of me now. They’ll let me rest. Maybe they can make it all stop.
Is that even possible? To make it all stop?
Reece is standing near the door, the next in line after the sister I barely know. I laugh at how she calls herself family. Like that title gives her special privileges. I remember you, Ellie. I watched you leave.
I force myself to stop laughing, because judgmental eyes are everywhere.
“You look like shit,” I tell Reece.
He smirks. “So do you.”
“Turns out I can’t fly.”
“Did you think you could?” he asks, sitting in the chair next to the bed. He’s not wearing shoes and his feet look strangely comforting here in soft white socks.