“Well, it looked easy! It looked like you were just lying there doing nothing.” The sharp snap of my words makes us both flinch. We stare at each other, and I feel so far from him but closer than we’ve ever been. I feel like his equal. Like his sibling, not just his little sister. He breaks eye contact first, turning away from me to stare at the wall.
“I’m sorry,” he says to the wall. “Every second I’ve been awake I’ve spent wishing I could take it back. Wishing I could fix it. But I can’t, Wing. I can’t fix this. I’ll never fix it.”
I have no words of comfort. I have no lies to tell him. Instead, I put my hand on his shoulder, my anger giving way to sadness.
“I know,” I say.
His sobs are violent and silent, his whole body shaking, his tears flowing fat and fast. I squeeze his shoulder and he reaches up and puts his hand on my own, so his arm is across his chest, over his heart. Finally, he looks up at me, eyes swollen.
“I keep thinking, what if Monica had been in the car? Or Aaron? I keep thinking about what if it had been Mom in the other car? Or you? And I’m so glad it wasn’t, and I’m so ashamed of myself for being glad. You’re right, I’m so goddamn selfish. I’m so selfish.” His voice is splintering and I crouch down so we’re at eye level.
“Monica wasn’t in the car. Neither was Aaron. Or me. Or Mom. We’re all OK.” I pause, look hard at him. “You’re OK.” I take a deep breath. “And I’m selfish too. Because I’m glad, more than glad, there isn’t even a word for how glad I am, that we’re all OK. That you’re OK.”
“I’m scared, Wing.” I’ve never in my whole life heard Marcus admit to being scared. “I’m scared about going to jail. I know I’m going to. And … I should. I deserve to. I deserve worse, but even though I know I deserve it, I’m scared.”
“That’s all right,” I say. “It’s OK that you’re scared. And you’re gonna be OK, I promise.” I force a smile, fragile as chipped china. “Just stop being such an asshole, all right? It’s hard enough as it is.”
Marcus laughs, just a little, and it is wet and snotty and a shadow of what his laugh was, but hearing him laugh lights a little flame of hope deep inside my heart.
“I love you.” I hug him and hold him tight. “No matter what, OK?” Because even though what he did can never be forgiven, I still love him. Irrevocably. Selfishly.
“I love you too,” he says, his voice muffled in my hair.
The door opens and Monica steps in, her lips as tight as her jeans. “Hey,” she says, tugging on her braid. “Are you OK?”
Marcus looks at me and smiles. “Yeah, I think I’m OK.”
I smile back at him, really smile, and stand. “I’ll let you guys talk.” As I pass Monica in the doorway, I squeeze her hand.
I close the door behind me as gently as I can and go into the kitchen to help my mom set the table.
CHAPTER 56
It’s hard, having Marcus back home. Harder than I thought it would be. I guess I couldn’t think past him waking up, him coming home; that was the important thing. I thought everything else would just figure itself out.
And having him home is a million million million times better than the alternative. No matter how hard it is, it’s worth it, and I’m so grateful. Grateful in a way that makes my skin tingle and my heart full; I’ve never been so grateful for anything…
I’d be even more grateful if he weren’t so sullen and sorry for himself all the time and if we didn’t have the heavy, heavy cloud of debt hanging over our house, getting bigger and fatter and closer every day. Next month we’ll lose the house, unless I win the Riveo Race. Just because Marcus is home doesn’t mean the bills stop. He’s got physical therapists and he’s got psychiatrists, and he needs that, I know he does, and now that he’s out his lawyer has been coming by, and who knows how much every minute of his time is costing. Marcus doesn’t even want a lawyer, keeps saying that he knows what he did was wrong and he’s guilty and he’ll do whatever the judge says. The lawyer says that Marcus’ll change his tune when he gets to jail and he’ll wish the lawyer had pushed harder for a lighter sentence and Marcus’ll close his eyes and say if he was making wishes what he’d be wishing for is that he never got behind the wheel of his car that night.
We all wish that.