They’ve been ordering out every night because Mom can’t be on her feet for long. Pizza, Thai, Italian. It’s not bad, but I liked making my own food. I liked picking out ingredients. It made me happy. I get why I can’t. I understand. I just wish there was something else I could do. I feel useless, which was why I snapped at Paul.
Don’t be surprised. It’s insulting to both of us. I’m not one of those brave people who suffer in silence. When I’m miserable, everybody knows it. I make sure of that. He was trying to explain why I couldn’t make dinner, and I think I was telling him that the food he’d given me was poisoned. He asked me why I thought he would do such a thing.
“Because you’re not my father. Your kid will be normal and perfect, and nothing will be wrong with him. Why the hell would you want someone like me in the picture? I’d poison me, too!”
Yelling at Paul made me realize that I was a douche bag for a number of reasons. The first one being that I still had not responded to any of Maya’s messages since her hospital visit. My mom has so far respected my wishes and told her that I don’t want to see anyone. But I knew what I needed to do. And even though emailing it to her was pretty chickenshit, it was the best I could do given the circumstances.
Dear Maya,
I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say to make this better, but I wanted to tell you anyway.
I never wanted you to know because I didn’t want you to be afraid. It was selfish, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you acting differently, being careful. Especially since I was the one who should’ve been careful. It was wrong to fall in love with you, and I should have known that from the beginning. No drug was ever going to fix me.
I shouldn’t have kept anything from you. You deserve better and I really hope you get it.
I love you.
Adam
It was the first time I’d ever told her that I loved her. I am such a jerk.
When I hit Send, I pretended I was writing to someone I’d never met before. It almost worked for a while. I sat down on the floor of my bedroom next to Rebecca and Rupert and Basil and a few familiar hallucinations that don’t have names. Jason leaned against my closet door, and the mob boss sat in my desk chair, staring at me intently, because he’d never sit on the floor.
I wanted to tell them that they weren’t real. I wanted to shout at them and blame them for my losing Maya, but I was just too tired.
“Hey, Ru?” I said.
“Yeah, mate?” he asked, leaning in.
“Can you guys sing to me?”
My voices had left, and I wasn’t sure when they’d be back. I wasn’t even sure if Rupert and Basil would take requests or if they could sing anything other than “Danny Boy.” I don’t know much about the personal lives of my pretend people. But I asked because it was what I wanted, and I thought, What the hell? I was just going to feel all of it. Everything I could reach.
So I hummed along while Rupert sang a song called “The Parting Glass.” Something I’d heard in an old movie once. Basil whistled. Rebecca held my hand. And for the first time, the mob boss didn’t try to shoot anything.
JUNE 5, 2013
Sure, I feel fine. My mom is still making me write to you even though our in-person sessions are over. I thought insomnia was the worst thing about the miracle drug, but I would gladly take insomnia over the walking-dead shit they gave me. I was so tired I didn’t even register that Maya had marched into our house until she was standing right in front of me. She looked different from how I remembered. There was something slightly off about her, like she could burst into flames at any moment. But that might’ve been the drugs.
Paul and my mom came running when she started shouting. Well, Paul came running. My mom sort of waddled down the hallway, holding her belly with both hands.
I’d never actually seen Maya this angry before. If it hadn’t been so terrifying, it would have been beautiful.
“You didn’t let me choose,” she said.
I didn’t say anything because I was sure she wasn’t real. Paul was the one who asked her what she was doing. She just put her hand up, demanding silence, and Paul obeyed. It was hard not to be impressed by that. Then she turned back to me and repeated herself.
“You didn’t let me choose.”
“Choose what?”
“You just assumed that you knew what I wanted.”
“Maya, it’s not that simple.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How could it not matter?”
“Adam, you are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met in my life!” she shouted.
“I know.”
That stopped her for a second. I could tell she was really looking for a fight. But I had no reason to argue with her. And to be honest, hearing her swear was more shocking than hearing her yell.
“You lied to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do the thing you have to be sorry for.”
“Well. That doesn’t—”
“I am still talking.”
She looked a little possessed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mom easing herself into a chair at the kitchen table while Paul leaned against the fridge. I had been counting on them to lead Maya out of the house with my apologies, but it looked like they were going to make me handle this myself. Privacy was out of the question.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I think at this point I pathetically looked at my mother, who shook her head and then looked at the floor. You’re on your own.
“C’mon, Maya. You know why. I told you why.”
“I deserve better than a lame excuse and an email, Adam. Tell me.”
“I can’t explain it.” That was a lie, but I didn’t want to be honest.
“Try,” she said. Her lips were a straight line across her face. So I tried.
“You know about the experimental drug I was on? The one my mom told you about.”
She nodded.
“I thought that if it worked, I’d never have to tell you the truth.”
“And the truth is?”
“I’m probably always going to see things I shouldn’t and hear things I shouldn’t, and the drugs aren’t always going to work. It’s possible that none of them are going to work as well as the experimental one did, and I can’t take that drug anymore because it is too dangerous. I’ll be on multiple treatments for a while until they find the right balance….And I might never be okay.”
“They’ll find the right balance eventually. We can handle this.”
“It isn’t fair for me to ask you to handle this.”
She didn’t even seem to care that my mom and Paul were still in the room. I’d forgotten how good it felt to kiss her, and part of me hadn’t realized until that moment how much I’d missed her. She pushed the hair out of my face when we broke apart.
“I’m not asking for fair. Nobody gets fair. And who says it’s up to you to decide what I can handle?” she asked.
“Me.”
“Well, you’re an idiot.”
“Maya—”
“In the email, you said you loved me. Is that true?” I wanted to say no. I should have said no. But I couldn’t lie to her anymore.
“Yes.”
“Then how about that’s all that matters right now, because I love you, too.”
Then I said perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.