My smile only grows. “Hey, Gran.”
“How are your friends? How are classes going? Hopefully nothing lower than a C-plus.” Gran tries to sound intimidating but fails.
“Mom, please, at least tell him to aim for a B-minus,” Mom scoffs. “How’s work and the new roommate?”
Chuckling, I catch them up, leaving certain things unsaid—things they never need to know about.
I’m very close to the two women who raised me after my father left Mom when I was a kid. We rarely talk about him, but I know more than she believes I do. I woke up at nine years old one Sunday morning only to find him gone. Mom was crying on the phone in the dining room, letting Gran know we had to move in with her due to the lack of money. At that age, I wondered why he never bothered to say goodbye. Then I turned seventeen and got my answer. He got a new fucking family.
“Well, it sounds like everything is going well, honey,” Mom says happily.
“I hope you’re partying as much as you are working and studying. Take advantage of your age, boy.” Gran chuckles, and I can practically hear Mom’s eyes rolling.
“I’m having my fun too, Gran, don’t worry. I went to karaoke this past weekend.” I check the GPS, which is announcing that my exit is coming up.
My mom gasps in excitement. “Please tell me you sang.”
“I did.” I hesitate whether to tell her with whom. “I sang a duet with Stevie.”
“That’s so exciting! Please tell me you have a video.”
Gran does me a solid and interrupts, saving me from having to lie about having one. She warns me not to sleep with Stevie. That causes a small argument between Mom and her about how inappropriate it was even to suggest that I would.
Little do they know the passing thoughts I’m ignoring.
I cut their fighting short since I’m five minutes away from my student’s house.
“Okay, sweetie. Before we let you go, do you know the next time you’re visiting?”
My stomach drops at the question, and then the long-awaited guilt comes. I barely visit Binghamton, and when I do, it’s not for long. There are several reasons why I have an apartment off campus. One of the many is that I don’t have to spend every vacation back home in the gray, depressing town where I grew up.
As much as I love my family, Ihatethat place. There’s only one person I can stand other than them: my ex-girlfriend, who lives near the auto shop I work in whenever I can. And there’s only one place I enjoy going to: the indie music store Mom manages.
Other than my ex, my family, and that store, I hate everyone I run into and every other place there. I hate how it always looks gloomy, how there’s nothing to do, and I despise the fact that no matter where I go, when I end up back home in that small house, the first boy ever to break my heart, who now has a wife, lives only ten blocks away. The gang knows this, but we only spoke about it once and never again.
“I have to see how my student roster is during spring break, but I’ll probably be able to swing by for a night or two.”
The line is silent for a moment. “Okay, sweetheart. I hope we can see you soon, then.”
Guilt hits me again. I’ll do it for her once before the summer. I’ll do it for them.
“I love you guys.”
After hanging up, I park in the driveway and open my trunk, grabbing my electric guitar and amp. Struggling to ring the doorbell, my student opens the door before I can.
“Hi, Levi!”
“Hey, little dude. Ready to rock and roll?”
Chapter Twelve
STEVIE
Dr. Garcia’s salt-and-pepper hair bounces as he types every word I say about what’s happened over the past two months. The last time I had auras, partial seizures, and how long they lasted. How many times I’ve had to take my emergency medication, my sleeping schedule, my stress levels after the breakup, and any changes in my mood or otherwise. Anything and everything since we only see each other every two to three months.
Once I’m done reading the list that I keep on my phone to remember these times, I relax on the exam table. The one where they had me follow his finger with my eyes while not moving my head, recite my full name, tell them the date, and identify the current president when the appointment began.
“And your birth control shot is still helping with your catamenial epilepsy?”
