I mull the question around for a moment, unsure of how to answer. “Depends on what you mean,” I start slowly. “Right now, yeah, sure. It’s hard to say if there’ll be long-term effects and what they’ll look like. So many people get sick for different reasons; it’d be hard to establish causality beyond a reasonable doubt. But otherwise…no, they’re not fine. And I mean neither my mom nor my dad. Butespeciallynot my dad.”
“...how...what do you mean?” His brows are furrowed again, and I can’t resist; I reach out to brush my hand over the line between them.
“They never regained trust in anything, Lind. Not each other, because my mom never got over the fact that Dad didn’t take her seriously, but also not in like…society?” I try to describe the situation carefully, then chuckle when he tilts his head in question. Apparently, there’s no pretty way to word this, so I decide to be frank instead.
“I don’t think either of them has seen a doctor again after we moved. If there’s a new technology or medical treatment, it’s to brainwash and control the population. If there’s a rainstorm or blizzard, it’s not climate change; it’s the secret world government trying to reduce population. Do you see lights in the night sky? Definitely aliens. Nuclear Armageddon is tomorrow, no, it’s next week, but also in three months. You have to be ready at all times, but you also should’ve been ready five years ago. You need to stockpile weapons, food, and water. Not a normal supply, no, you need to build a separatebunkerfor it. You can’t trust anyone. You need to learn how to survive on your own. You need to…I don’t know. Always be scared, I guess, because thething, the big unknown catastrophe, could happen at any second.”
Linden’s eyes widen the more I speak, his lips slightly parted. “You’re kidding,” he huffs out, prompting another sad laugh from me.
“I wish I were.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say or do to make it better.”
I look down at our hands, still intertwined. His fingers wrap around mine almost protectively.
“It’s okay,” I repeat because I can’t think of anything else to say, and maybe, if I state it over and over, someday it really will be okay.
“No! No, it’s not okay,” Linden protests, gray eyes shining with anger and sadness alike. The sun has started to set, flooding my attic room with warm light, the rays catching in his hair and giving it a golden shine. I wish I could paint, if only to capture this moment.
“Your family deserved help,” he insists, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Youdeserved help. I can’t even imagine growing up having to be scared of everything all the time. How are they? Andwhereare they at the moment?”
I sigh at his question, rubbing my neck with my free hand. “As you know, my mom’s in Thailand right now. She got really into spiritual healing and stuff like that, and to be honest, after everything that happened, I think she just needed to get away. We talk every once in a while, and she sends pictures.”
“She just left?” He gapes, his incredulity making me squirm.
“She originally planned to take me along, but Dad wouldn’t allow it, and I also didn’t want to. By then, I had finally made friends at my new school and gotten into football. That helped me a lot. And at one point…well, she just stopped asking me to come with her.” I gently untangle my hand from Linden’s to reach for my chest, absentmindedly massaging the spot over my heart. It feels tight, as always, when I think of her.
“Oh, Micah…and your dad?”
“He’s still in North Carolina. He found a few like-minded people through a chat group, and they started a commune together.”
Once again, Linden’s eyes widen in shock, so I hurry to add, “I know it sounds terrible, but Ipromiseit’s not…not all bad. They’re not hurting anyone. It’s not like a religious cult.”
“They’re hurtingyou, Micah. That’s bad enough in my opinion.” Linden’s hands have balled into fists, and there’s an audible strain to his voice.
“They’re not—” I try to placate him immediately, but he won’t let me finish.
“What about the money then? You’re using your scholarship money, the money youearned—”
“They neveraskedfor it,” I interject quickly. “I mean, my dad…he points out stuff he’d like, but he neverdemandsanything. He…in his head, he’s building a safe place for me. He’s constantly anxious about me being so far away from him because in his world, another disaster looms on the horizon every other week. And my mom…she does these yoga retreats and stuff, but…” I lean forward, my hands grabbing his shoulders, looking for his gaze and willing him to understand. “They’re myparents, Lind. I couldn’t…I couldn’t just live my life here, knowing they need help.”
He juts his chin out stubbornly, his hands shaking lightly when he raises them to cup my face, his warm palms molding against my cheeks. “What about yourself?” he asks, and I shrug.
“I’ll deal.”
“But at whatcost, Micah? You’re stretched so thin, and I don’t just mean your finances; I mean your mentalhealth.”
Once again, I close my eyes, trying not to let this overwhelm me. It’s how I usually cope, separating myself from reality and fixating on the one thing I have some kind of control over.
“I’ll just have to make it into the NFL,” I tell him. “Play for a few years, make good money. Maybe I can get my dad to therapy, pay for…whatever he wants, and convince my mom to come back. Or at least, I could visit her regularly.”
I’m not sure Linden can see the picture I paint because when I open my eyes again, the anger has vanished from his gaze, leaving just sadness behind.
“Is that why you play? Why you want to make it to the NFL so badly?”
I don’t get another sound past my lips. Instead, I nod. I like to play, sure, and I’m good at it, but there is no heritage or burning passion fueling this dream.
Just…need.
