Austin leaned forward, bent his legs, and wrapped his arms around them as though they were his protection. His eyes were firmly glued to the ground as he murmured, “My mamma’s on level five. She was admitted here tonight.”
“Austin…” I tried to say something, but his aura was like a brick wall. He clearly didn’t want my sympathy. He was too proud for that.
Austin stared down at the ground, lost in his thoughts. “Some doctor in a white coat just pulled me away from my mamma’s bedside, took me to a fuckin’ private room, and told me she’s only got months left to live. Months, Lexi. She ain’t gonna live to see me make the NFL.”
Tears filled my eyes as tears filled his.
“And I can’t make myself go back up there. I can’t make myself get in the fuckin’ elevator and look at her laying in bed, trying to be strong, trying to throw on a smile, knowing by this time next year, she’ll be gone.” Austin then looked up at me, as if I had all the answers, as if I knew what to say.
“How am I supposed to do it, Lexi? How the fuck do I do this—caring for Mamma, pass school, ace football, fuck, deal with my dickhead brother?”
“What’s wrong with your mamma?” I asked cautiously. I wasn’t sure he’d offer up that piece of information.
“ALS,” he replied, but my blank face must’ve shown I didn’t know what that was. “Lou Gehrig’s. Motor neuron disease, Lexi. Her nerves are fucked. She can’t really walk anymore, can barely talk. Soon she won’t be able to lift her arms. Then finally, she won’t be able to swallow. But you wanna know what the real kicker of all this shit is?”
I closed my eyes at the devastation in his voice.
“That her mind isn’t affected. Not one bit. Mentally, she’s exactly the same, but her body’s shutting down. Imagine that, wanting to talk but being unable to move her lips, wanting to dance but unable to lift her feet. She’s in a prison, a fuckin’ prison of her own limbs, and I gotta just stand by and watch it. Fuckin’ A, don’t you think?”
Lifting to my knees, I scurried forward and took a seat beside Austin against the bench. Austin’s hand flattened on the ground. I had no words of comfort, so I spread my fingers, my index hooking around Austin’s in support. I caught his head move to watch the action, but I didn’t respond.
This was huge step for me.
Weirdly, I knew this was progress.
Who’d have thought that Austin Carillo would be aiding me in my recovery?
“Sorry for being such a fuckin’ * on you just now. You keep seeing me at my worst moments,” Austin said, breaking the awkwardness.
My mouth dropped at his abrupt language.
It caused me to laugh and shake my head. “It’s fine, and you weren’t a… fuckin’… *, as you put it.”
Austin smiled and my heart did a full flip in my chest. I nearly pressed my hand on my chest for fear I was having a heart attack. The sensation shocked me. I’ve never felt anything like it before…that beautiful smile…
“Yeah, I was. But since you’re so good at keeping secrets, I suppose it don’t matter too much.”
“Austin?” I said nervously.
“Mmm?”
“The doctor you spoke to…”
Austin shifted slightly to face me, but our fingers remained attached. “What about him?”
“He’s my daddy.”
Austin’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Fuck.”
“He won’t say anything. Can’t say anything. I saw you run from the family room. He doesn’t even know I came after you,” I said, protecting my daddy’s professionalism.
Austin turned to me at that and his eyes narrowed. “And how did Daddy take it when you told him you knew me?”
Blushing, I went to speak, but I quickly shut my mouth.
Austin’s pierced eyebrow rose. “That good, huh?”
A giggle came out of my throat, and I covered my mouth with my hand. It seemed wrong to laugh in this garden, but, strangely, it was easy to laugh with Austin.
Austin huffed out a laugh too. “Don’t sweat it. I get that an ex-Heighter ain’t gonna be top of the friend approval list.”
My humor dropped. “Why do you define yourself purely by the gang you used to belong to?”
Austin locked me in a stare. “‘Cause that’s all people ever see. They don’t look beyond the surface.” He tapped the star tattoo on his left cheekbone and then the word Heighter on his neck.
“You could get them lasered off,” I suggested.
Austin tipped his head back and laughed. I scowled. Austin then dropped the laughter. “Nah, I can’t, Lex.”
“But—”
“Lexi. I can’t get ’em taken off. It don’t work like that,” he said, making sure I didn’t continue to push the issue.
Austin glanced away, clearly thinking of a darker time, and I sighed.
“Well, I see more, I see a lot more. I see a guy who’s caring for his momma practically on his own. I see a guy breaking because she’s sick. I see a guy who got out of a hopeless situation and he’s striving to get on a better path,” I whispered quietly.
Austin didn’t say anything in response, and, like a coward, I lowered my eyes.