“No, you should be the last person to say that. She could get you kicked off the football team. If you’re with her and she gets caught or pulled over, you could take the fall.”
“I would—I would never let anything like that happen,” she defends with complete disbelief.
“How are you going to stop it? Throw money at the problem and hope it goes away? That’s probably what your parents did for you.”
“Memphis,” Oswald says softly, like he’s ashamed of me. It’s not something I’ve ever heard from him before.
Waylynn blinks at me several times, but her mouth stays closed, which makes me madder at her and myself. I want her to say something back, to tell me the truth, but she’s just looking at me with sad, hurt eyes.
“You need help,” I spew at her, but it ends up coming out all wrong, like an insult instead of the assistance I’m trying to suggest.
“You’re right—I probably need my head examined again for ever letting you shove your way into my life.”
“Examined again?” Oswald questions, whereas I’m too mad to even hear more than the blatant mischaracterization of our relationship.
“I’m notaskingyou to leave this time. I’m telling you to leave, and don’t bother coming back!”
“Wait, wait, let’s talk about this. Waylynn, are you using?” Oz asks doubtfully.
“No.” Her single word response is short and filled with anger.
“Then what is he talking about?” Oswald looks between the two of us, clearly torn.
“He saw my pill bottle, and then this.” She gestures to me with a jerky motion. “You know what? I don’t need to explain myself to either of you. I told you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I get some fucking answers. I will not watch you waste away like she did.”
“She who? Whoever made you believe you’re the one to hold ultimate responsibility over everyone?”
“Someone had to do it,” I snap, while at the same time Oswald says, “Our mom. We lost our parents when they OD’d.”
“She didn’t need to know that,” I accuse, pissed Oswald is sharing our secrets while she has hers.
“Fucking rich.” She spins around and looks at the ceiling.
“I’m trying to explain why you are acting like a complete whack job,” Oswald yells, hammering it home.
“She has a bottle of unlabeled pills in her purse. She already admitted they were hers.” I point. “I want to help her. I can’t do it again.” I’m yelling now too.
“This may be hard for you to actually hear, Memphis, but I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything from you, despite what you may think. I’m not some helpless girl, too dumb not to know when to talk to strangers or take drugs. I chose to let you in because I felt something with both of you I hadn’t ever experienced—a connection from the first time you spoke to me. I should have known it was insane, just like everything else.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m sorry about your mom. Hell, if you would have talked to me and explained your concerns, I probably would have told you what the pills are, but you’re not the only one with baggage, and maybe I wasn’t ready to spill my secrets to a guy who acts like I don’t exist half the time.”
“You’re in denial. I’ve seen it a hundred times,” I argue, but I can hear the lack of belief in my own tone.
“Okay,” she agrees without a fight, and I know I’ve lost something in that moment. “I want you to leave. Do whatever you need to do—report me, call the cops, whatever—but you need to leave.”
“Memphis, go. Let me talk to her,” Oswald urges with wide, pleading eyes. It’s not just me who hears the finality in her flat tone.
“No, you both need to go. I would never in a million years come between the two of you.”
“You’re not.” He spins to face me. “Tell her she’s not,” he pleads.
She’s smarter than both of us. My face feels funny, all tingly and hot, but I can’t force myself to give Oswald the lie he wants. She would never believe it anyway.
“I’ll talk to him, and we can talk tomorrow,” Oz offers as a latch-ditch effort. He knows there’s no way she’s going to let him stay.
“Sure,” Waylynn agrees again in that light flat tone that tells me she’s lying.
Oswald takes two steps back to the door while I’m the one stuck in my spot. I know there won’t be a tomorrow, but he’s still clinging to hope.
