When I bid him good night, she had this soft look on her face, almost as if she wanted to kiss me. Hell, I want her to kiss me, just not because I did the bare minimum by staying and helping.
The door creaks open, and she slips outside with a blanket wrapped around her.
“You stayed.”
“I told you I would,” I tell her as I pat the swing next to me.
Lyla comes over, and I hold the swing still until she’s seated next to me with her legs tucked up underneath her.
“He go down okay?” I ask as I begin to swing us.
“Yeah, thank you for helping. You didn’t have to.”
“It was nothing.” I shrug.
“Trust me, it was something.” She sighs heavily. “So I bet you have questions.”
“Of course I do, but if you don’t want to answer them, I won’t make you.” I stretch my arm out so it is across the back of the swing behind her.
“Really?” She sounds surprised, and I hate that for her.
“Really. It’s your life and you can tell me as much or as little as you want and when you want.”
She chews on her bottom lip and I fight the urge to reach over and free it.
She doesn’t need to know that I want to be the only one who nibbles on it.
Jesus fuck, nibble? What the hell is wrong with me?
I shake my head as she begins to talk quietly.
“He got sick late in my freshman year. I convinced him to go to the doctor because he was being really forgetful, which wasn’t like him,” she says.
For the next few minutes she tells me how Will and her dad moved here so she could help and still go to school. How for a minute she thought she would have to drop out, but Will wouldn’t let her. Then last but not least, she tells me how fastshe’s watched her father slide down the hill, being unaware more than she would like to admit.
The entire time she talks, my heart breaks for her. When I lost my parents, it was instant. There was no long-term suffering. Not like this. No, Jerry doesn’t even remember who his kids are, and that has to be one of the seven layers of hell. I can’t imagine. Hell, I don’t want to imagine.
And to think she hides her pain every day and pastes on a smile.
I knew a long time ago that Kyle didn’t deserve someone like her, and this just proves it.
Lyla Wayne is one of those women who will stand by you when the going gets tough, and he fucked up.
Then again, that worked out in my benefit. It got me what I wanted: her. Even if I don’t truly have her. Not yet, at least.
“And you guys have no help?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s just Will and me. There are some programs out there, but last time I checked, we either don’t qualify or we can’t afford them. So we make do. Will works nights so I can go to class. We are a two-man show.”
“I’m sorry, Lyla. That’s fucking rough.”
“It is what it is.” She shrugs as if it’s not a big deal.
It’s not fair that it all comes down to money. The health care system is a fucking joke and a greedy motherfucker. It’s all about the bottom line, and they don’t care about the people who really need the assistance.
Just thinking about it pisses me off.
“So is that why you had to take off tonight and be home at a specific time?”
