I Want It That Way

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As predicted, the rest of the weekend was phenomenal, but all too soon, normal life recalled us. Classes resumed, along with my regular work hours, and Ty became a few words on my phone or a tired voice for a few minutes a night. The Wednesday after we got back, I was supposed to have my first meeting with my new practicum mentor, and I was obsessing over what to wear when someone knocked, such a light tap that I wondered if I’d imagined it.

Until I threw the front door open and found Sam in his pajamas, bright flags of color in his cheeks. “Daddy is sick. And I don’t feel good, either.”

All thoughts of school and work flew out of my head. “Let me get my stuff, then we’ll go. Don’t worry, bud. You did a good job finding me.” Though I was scared shitless at the idea of him leaving his apartment since the door locked behind him. What if I wasn’t home? How sick must Ty be, if he couldn’t get to his phone?

Sam proved how cruddy he felt by not responding to my bud overture. Nor did he ask for any dinosaur jokes. Worried, I followed him downstairs and saw that he’d wedged Mr. O’Beary into the door. So he wouldn’t have been locked out if I didn’t answer. Smart kid. I put my hand on his cheek, and yeah, he was definitely flushed with fever.

“Get in bed. I’ll bring you some juice and medicine, okay?”

When he nodded, a coughing fit swept over him. Flu, maybe, or bronchitis. I found OJ in the fridge, so I poured a glass of that and then I turned up a bottle of general-symptom children’s Tylenol, so I checked his age and poured the right amount into the plastic cup. Sam was curled up with Mr. O’Beary when I came in, covers pulled up to his chin.

I put the juice down and gave him the medicine, which he drank obediently, though he made a horrendous face. “Tastes like evil.”

“Worse than broccoli?”

Soberly, he nodded. “Can I have soup later? My throat hurts.”

“No problem. You have to stay in bed, though, or you won’t get better. I bet you’ll be sleepy soon. Do you want a story?”

“Will you?” His eyes were irresistible.

So I read to him in a soft voice, and before I was half done, he winked out. I tiptoed out and went to check on Ty, who was still in bed. I doubted he’d ever failed to wake when Sam came to poke him, so no wonder the kid came upstairs. He’d kicked his covers off, and he was sweating profusely, his cheeks hot with the same fever as Sam. I remembered how he’d thrown himself into tobogganing, staying out long after I gave up and retired to the lodge.

First I sponged him off and fixed his covers. Then I got some Nyquil from the cabinet and pestered him until he roused enough to swallow it. But he didn’t seem to register who I was, just moaned, rolled over and went back to sleep. To take care of them, I had to clear my day, though. I had a twinge in calling in to work so soon after my first missed day. Hopefully, Mrs. Keller didn’t take it for an imminent disciplinary problem. I faked being sick and she said it was better for me to stay home. Hurdle one, overcome. The next problem was my practicum.

I didn’t have the woman’s phone number, so I sent an email.

Dear Ms. Roberts: I woke up this morning with a fever. Sorry I can’t make our meeting this afternoon. I’ll see you Friday.

While this might impact her impression, I’d never leave Sam and Ty when they needed me. One last thing to do. While Ty’s work number was in his cell phone, I couldn’t really call in for him. So I went to his studio and swirled the mouse to wake up the computer. No password. I opened his mail account, searched for “Bill” and was relieved when a few emails popped up with the company info in the man’s signature. I read a few emails between them to get an idea of Ty’s tone with his boss. Then I typed,

Bill, sorry I can’t make it to work today. Sam’s sick and my throat’s on fire. I figure you’d rather I contain the germs. Back as soon as I can. Ty.

A few minutes later, a reply popped up.

No problem, kid. Feel better.

Whew. I felt like I’d just completed an undercover mission. Relieved, I went into the kitchen to see about the soup Sam wanted. There was chicken in the freezer and I found noodles in the cupboard. Carrots, celery and onion completed the recipe, and I quietly set the chicken to boiling. I didn’t have much else to do, so I took a nap on the sofa while waiting for the chicken to fall off the bone and for the water to turn into stock.

At eleven, I checked on them, but they were both still asleep. I’d wake them when the soup was ready. I strained the broth, then added the vegetables. Half an hour later, the noodles went in, and I had homemade soup. I made a tray for Sam and carried it to his room with some herbal tea and toast. He was awake, but in bed, like I’d asked.

“I went to the bathroom,” he told me. “But I got back in. I have to rest.”

“Good job. Hungry?”

“A little. Throat still hurts.”

“Maybe the soup will help. Eat it and I’ll get you a scoop of ice cream, okay?”

Sam brightened. “Deal.”

Hopefully, they had some. If not, I’d get my stash from the freezer. I chatted with him as he ate, pretending to tickle Mr. O’Beary. They did, in fact, have some vanilla ice cream, so Sam ate that with a gleeful expression. He seemed to be feeling somewhat better, but to make sure he rested more, I read to him until he fell asleep. Finally. I was worried about Ty, too, but I knew he’d prefer me to look after Sam while he couldn’t. Yet he hadn’t eaten anything since I’d been here, and I had no idea what fluids he had the night before. He might be getting dehydrated.

So I made a tray for him next, same menu as Sam, and I carried it into his room. He didn’t seem quite as feverish, and when I sat down on the bed, his eyes opened. Ty almost spilled his lunch trying to shove me aside in panic. “Sam!”

“He’s fine. He’s asleep. He had tea and juice and soup and medicine. Don’t worry, okay? I’ve taken care of everything.”

He looked more than a little loopy from the flu meds. “Work?”

“Handled. Eat some soup or Nurse Nadia will get cranky.”

With a bleary smile, he let me prop him against his pillows. Exhaustion was likely making this bug hit Ty harder than Sam. Kids were usually resilient, and neither of their fevers seemed high enough to warrant a doctor visit. With my help, he downed most of his soup and half of his tea, then he stumbled to the bathroom.

“What day is it?” He seemed to be fumbling to remember my schedule.

“A sick day,” I said firmly. “Back to bed.”

By evening, they were both feeling a lot better. Sam and Ty were curled up watching TV when I brought the last round of soup, tea and medicine. Sam glanced up at me with a sleepy smile, then he said to his dad, “I knew she’d fix us.”

Ty froze. Before, he was relaxed, groggy, obviously feeling like shit, but enjoying the rare chance to watch cartoons with his son. But I saw it dawn on him that I shouldn’t be here—that we had separate lives—and this wasn’t one of our weekends. My presence didn’t speak to friendship or sex, but something else entirely. I knew what it said; that I loved them enough to put my life on hold, if they needed me.

And it was true.

“Why are you even here?” It was the first time he’d thought to ask.

“I went upstairs to get her,” Sam answered.

Shit. That won’t help, buddy. Instinctively, I understood that Ty wouldn’t like learning how much Sam trusted me. It wasn’t like I was using the little guy to get closer to his dad. Hell, I’d never do that. But Ty wore a sharp, terrified look, like all of him was recoiling.

“You should’ve called Grandma,” Ty said gently.

“That’s stupid. Nadia is right upstairs, and she loves us.”

Ty’s throat worked. His eyes met mine, darkness swirling. “But Grandma’s feelings might be hurt. You know she enjoys taking care of you.”

“Oh.” Sam was crestfallen, mouth trembling. “I didn’t think of that. I was scared cuz you didn’t get up.”

Seeing that Sam was about to cry, Ty hugged him around the shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. You did a good job.”

Maybe if I leave now, it’ll be okay.

“I have to get going,” I said.

Ty didn’t get up, didn’t let go of Sam, and his voice was too quiet. “Okay. Thanks. We’ll be fine from here.”

Without you, his look added.

All that night, I waited for a text but it didn’t come. The next day, I went to work with a knot in my stomach that only swelled with Ty’s silence. Sam was back in school, completely recovered. Mrs. Keller didn’t seem to realize I’d lied and that made me feel worse.

She even patted me on the arm. “So glad you’re feeling better. A number of kids were out yesterday, too. I think something’s going around.”

Her assistant made a sour face. “This time of year, there always is.”

In my classes, I was a zombie, staring at the professors droning on. After failing twice to take notes, I gave up and recorded the lectures. Once I squared things with Ty, I’d feel better. Right? The ache in my chest didn’t abate as I drove home. If anything, the feeling intensified as I parked outside our building. He’s probably not even home yet. I didn’t see his car, so I went upstairs and tried to read some assigned chapters, but the words danced before my eyes. My stomach churned until it hurt. Around six, my phone finally pinged. With trepidation, I flicked open the message.

Come down. You can let yourself in.

Completely without context, the grave tone sent me running down the stairs. When I stepped into the apartment, Ty had his back to me, hands braced on the counter, head bowed. My first thought was—

“Sam, is Sam okay?” He was fine when I left Rainbow Academy this morning.

“Yeah. I dropped him off with my mom.” When he turned, he wore such a somber expression that it scared me.

“Don’t you have night class?” My knees felt weak as I collapsed on the sofa.

“You skipped everything for me yesterday. So I’m returning the favor.” But from his tone, this wasn’t sweet or good. He was so pale that he was shaking. Not from sickness, at least not like yesterday. This was something else, pain chewing at him from the inside. Ty took a deep breath. “I am completely, hopelessly in love with you.”

The smile formed instinctively; I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from him. Happiness sparked briefly, guttered like a candle in the wind. From the bleak look in his eyes, this wasn’t a joyous moment. There wouldn’t be a kiss to celebrate the occasion.

“Ty—”

“I was fooling myself that we were just friends, no strings. It’ll never be that way with us. And that’s why this has to stop.”

The emotional blow knocked the breath out of me. “But—”

He shook his head and backed around the table, keeping it between us when I stood up. “Let me finish, or I’ll never get this said.”

“Okay. Sorry.” I hovered before the couch, torn between the desire to run and to demand he listen to me, instead. Silence won out.

“I can’t go on like this. One weekend just isn’t enough. The past two months, I’ve started resenting Sam. I can’t—I can’t have that, Nadia. God, I’m jealous of your fucking roommates because they’re there when you wake up and when you go to bed at night. But that’s not even the worst part. Yesterday you proved that you’d throw away your future for me. You ditched work, the practicum, without a second thought. That was never part of the deal.”

“I didn’t ruin anything. I still have my job, and I’m sure I can smooth things over—”

“This can’t continue,” he said flatly.

“We can figure something out.” My tone was soft, thick with threatening tears. Losing Ty and Sam would break my world open like a tremor on a fault line.

“No, sweetness. We can’t.”

If he was angry, I could stand it. But he was just so tired and sad that my tears spilled over. I clenched my fists, wanting to argue, but I’d promised when we first started this that if and when it stopped working, it would end. But the ground was opening up beneath my feet, and when he stopped talking, it would swallow me up.

“You’re sure?”

He nodded, an ocean of longing and anguish in his brown eyes. “I’ve been thinking, and our upstairs/downstairs thing? It’s a metaphor. How many times have I hung out at your place, Nadia?” When I made a zero with thumb and forefinger, he said, “Exactly. You can come into my world, but I can’t live in yours. So it’s always you, coming to me. Me, holding you back.”

“You’re not,” I whispered. “I’m happy.”

The pieces fit. I love you so much, Ty.

Tears could strangle you and steal your voice. I hadn’t known that until this moment. My heart was made of broken glass, slicing upward until my throat was cut. I couldn’t speak.

“I don’t see how that’s true. You do all the giving, make all the compromises, and everything’s on my schedule, because it has to be, or there’s nothing at all. But that’s not fair.” Sucking in a deep breath, Ty went on shakily, “We...we’re just not in the same place, and I won’t let you regret me.”

“You’re only three years older,” I said, incredulous. “We’re both in school—”

“And those years were life-changing. I have Sam. You need to meet other guys, and you’ll never do that with me on the scene. At this point, if I saw you with someone else, I’d probably kill him, even though I can’t call you mine.”

I am yours. I always have been. Pain was an ice pick, chipping at my insides, until there was only blood and shards of bone. Before, I thought people who threw around the word heartbroken were full of shit. But I couldn’t breathe for the vise tightening around my rib cage. It was like drowning, losing all the light beneath night-drenched waves.

“This isn’t right, Nadia. I have to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to,” was all I could manage.

“That face.” He finally came around the table, closing the distance between us, and I knew, I just knew he was going to frame my face in his hands, as he always had. “How can I live without this face?”

You’re killing me. Don’t turn the knife.

“So don’t.” It wasn’t quite begging. Any minute, I would quake apart at his feet and he could sweep up the dust. Maybe he could keep me in a jar on the shelf.

Ty shook his head, all certainty and sorrow. “We met too soon. This can’t work now, much as I wish it could. You deserve a guy who can be there for you all the time, someone without so much baggage.”

“Sam is not baggage,” I snapped.

“He’s also not your son.” Such a gentle tone for such awful words.

“And you’re not my boyfriend. I get it.” I bowed my head for a few seconds, fighting the tears. Then I broke away from his hold. “Does it matter at all that I love you?”

“Love isn’t a panacea,” Ty said wearily. “Or a magic pill. Diana loved me, too. But she didn’t stay, and I won’t put Sam through it again.”

“I’m not her,” I answered. “You won’t even give me a chance!”

“Can you honestly say you’re ready to move in and be with me, be Sam’s mom and live happily ever after? You’ve spent enough time with him to know exactly what that means.”

I’m twenty-one years old. I can’t, I’m not. That was my first, instinctive thought. And Ty read it in my face, in the slump of my shoulders. A light in him guttered and died.

I stopped fighting then because he was right after all, damn him. I would probably never forgive him for it. “So this is it. How does it end?”

“Like this.” Stepping close, he swiped his thumbs across my eyes, dusting away the tears, then he pressed his lips to my eyelids, one at a time. I raised my face, showing him everything one last time. Ty kissed me softly, honey and salt, hello and goodbye, and all the words we would never whisper again, holed up in bed on a snowy afternoon. He ran fingers through my hair with an awful finality. My breath came out so loud it was almost a sob.

“No regrets. You are a hundred times more wonderful than I deserve.”

This hurt so much; it made me angry. I had no experience having my heart torn from my chest, and he was being so very kind about it. His kindness made me cruel. “My mom said I could do better.”

Ty held my look steadily. “You can. Goodbye, Nadia.”

“Bye, Daniel.” I was even colder than I’d dreamed I could be. That was never what I called him, only what she did. And then I left, like her, because he made me.