I shook my head with dismay. “I can’t do this anymore, Keegan. I can’t.”
His eyelids struggled to perk in alertness. “You’re just angry,” he huffed.
“No, I’m serious. I don’t want to live this kind of life anymore.”
Keegan ran his fingers through his greasy chin-length waves and puffed his cheeks out like a blowfish, slowly exhaling his self-induced frustration.
“So, what—you’re just going to leave or kick me out?” His words slurred together as if pauses would steal too much of his energy.
“No, Keegan. That isn’t the type of person I am. I am going to help you get better first.”
“Why?”
I can understand his confusion. A person dealing with as much anger as I was with him might walk right out and never look back, but I had been with Keegan for so long, and I knew he wouldn’t get better on his own. I knew the disease was more than he could handle.
“I don’t need help,” he argued.
“Yes, you do. Hate me for it if you like, but this time, you need to get better for you because I’m still leaving at the end.” I realize I took away an incentive to get well, but I don’t want to be his motivation any longer. At the same time, I don’t want to feel guilty knowing I walked away when he needed help.
The problem with Keegan is, he needs to decide to get better, or he’ll end up in the hospital, jail, or detained for public intoxication. At best, he’ll lose all his landscaping jobs again. It won’t be until one of those things happen that he’ll toy with the idea of temporary sobriety. So, I must stick around until something terrible happens.
My headache is finally subsiding after a long day, and I’m packing up my belongings to head out. For a moment, I reconsider my recent activities, hanging out at the bar like a drunk. I’m not sure I want to go through another day of headaches or exhaustion, but I won’t have closure until I understand why he did what he did.
I pull the leather strap of my messenger bag over my neck, letting it hang across my body. I touch the outer pocket, running my fingertips along the zipper before reaching in for my phone.
I try to avoid calls throughout the day as it can be distracting, but my parents and sister know they can call my office phone if there’s an emergency. I used to keep my phone out on my desk all day because Keegan would send me sweet messages, but over the last year, that slowly ended, like our relationship.
May’s name appears a few times, so lift my phone and click to read her messages.
May: Sissy, can we meet tonight. I need your advice, and I want to see how you’re doing.
May: We can go wherever you want.
May: I’m free all night in case you’re trying to think of an excuse to avoid me.
My hand falls to my side, and I roll my head back with frustration. Mom has probably set May up to check on me because shutting down and wallowing isn’t acceptable in my family.
The only saving grace is that May is not judgmental. With her being five years less experienced in life than me and often living with her head in the clouds, some might refer to her as a bit ditzy. But, she’s cute and lovable, which gets her through life.
Me: Want to meet me at Kenny’s in a half-hour?
The three little dots immediately flicker, which isn’t surprising since May rarely places her phone down for longer than it takes for her to go to the bathroom.
May: Why do you want to go there?
Me: Because ... I do.
I imagine she’s shrugging her amber curls off her shoulders and deciding to go with the flow.
May: Sure. Whatever floats your boat.
Me: See you soon, sis. Xo
Chapter Nine
Chance
Since these recurrenceshave been like clockwork, I had a suspicion she would be back, making this night three of her new routine.
