Harper gasps and his eyes widen. “Really?”
I really like this guy. “For sure. Hockey players are a different breed.”
Harper smiles softly as his gaze flicks over to Jackson. “It’s okay, I like my basketball player.”
When the fire burns to embers, everyone disperses back to their homes. That night, when Benji curls around me as we fall asleep, I think I finally know what home is.
15
BENJI
FEBRUARY 2028
Everything cannot be perfect forever. After four weeks in Clay Springs, Nolan has made so much progress. Medicine and therapy and not pushing me away. But I know more than anyone that bad days come with good days, especially after seeing how much my mom has struggled with depression over the past twenty-something years.
So when Nolan can’t get out of bed one day, I know all I can do is try to take care of him. There’s no cure-all fix to depression and anxiety; there’s no pill that’ll fix it so every day is perfect and cloud-free. But the bad days come far less frequently and are easier to handle when the good days outweigh the bad.
I busy myself making bland toast and a cup of peppermint tea in the kitchen, knowing that Nolan would drink it if I brought it to him. My phone buzzes in my pocket and it must be my mama because I texted her to update her on everything.
“Hi, Mama,” I say into the phone, tucking it between my cheek and shoulder.
“He just won’t get out of bed?” Mama asks without any sort of greeting.
“Nope.”
“Just feed him.”
“I know. Toast and peppermint tea.”
Mama updates me on a few of the people at the commune, all but begging me to come for a visit. Now isn’t the time, and when I tell her so, she’s understanding as always. I do want to take Nolan to visit them; I think meeting my mom would help him a lot. But right now isn’t the time, and it has to betheright time for that scenario. I don’t want to scare him away with my mother’s stories about me streaking across the lawn at five years old because I’d decided clothes were not for me.
“Are you taking care of yourself too?” Mama asks quietly, in the most gentle way only she can.
I pause as I touch the hot side of the mug. “As best I can.”
“It’s important to take care of yourself, too, to allow others to care for you. Can I send you one of my care packages? I’ll make those cookies you like.”
“Snickerdoodles?” I ask hopefully.
“Yes, mijo.”
“Okay.”
Mama sighs softly, sounding oddly lonely. “I’ll get it to you this weekend. Enough for Nolan, too. We love you, you know that, right?”
“Yes, always.”
“Alright. Go take care of him, lie with him, kiss his forehead. Leave him alone if he asks you to. Okay?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good boy.” Then we say goodbye, and I carry the toast and tea back into the bedroom where Nolan lies frozen on the bed. I only know he's even there by the black tufts of hair appearing from underneath the quilts against the pillow. After placing the toast and tea on the bedside table, I crawl under the quilts beside him, pulling the blanket over my head so we’re cocooned together in the warmth Nolan’s body has created.
“Hi,” I whisper.
Nolan blinks slowly and licks his lips. “Hi.”
“I brought you toast and tea.”
