“Hello, Nik,” Mom said, extending a hand and continuing the introductions. She was assessing him, more curiously than judgmentally. After a polite exchange, she pointed to the deck. “Y’all go ahead and eat. There’s plenty of food. There’s sangria on the other table if you’d like to give it a try. I’m going to tell your dad you’re here, so please come and say hi.”
Nik waited until Mom gained a healthy distance before saying, “I like her.”
“She’s very likeable.” I pointed toward the deck and followed the flagstone path to it. “Both my parents are. They were beloved by every single teacher Ada and I had, and all of our friends loved coming over.”
“Sounds incredibly wholesome,” Nik said, following me to the deck.
I wrinkled my nose and grabbed a couple of plates, handing one to Nik. “I know. It’s kinda gross.”
“No, it’s a gift,” Nik said, looking at the spread in front of him. He glanced over at me for a second before grabbing the spoon for the potato salad. “Few people have that. I’m glad you do.”
It was little things like this that bolstered me. Nik was a tether here, and there was no way I would be able to trapeze this without him next to me.
We filled our plates and went searching for empty seats. Eventually, we ended up sitting on a bench near the deck, people-watching while eating our food. People stopped by to say hi and introduced themselves to Nik. They were all cordial and kind.
None of these people could touch the real me; they were too caught up in keeping the conversation bland enough so it’d never touch the forbidden topic of Ada. It was stupid to expect anyone to ask where she was or if she was getting any better, especially at a place like this, but there was still a small part of me that wished they would. That they’d show they gave a single fuck.
Sitting here and mingling with these people, acting as if Ada shouldn’t be here with us, was asking me to act a farce, and I refused to do that. I stood, trying to figure out a way to get out of here. Dad and I could manage a strained phone call tomorrow. I’d make promises to meet up with Mom again.
My plan was dashed when Mom walked over to me and said, “Going back for dessert?”
I glanced at Nik, whose eyebrows were raised curiously. “No, I think we’re gonna get going.”
Mom glanced over her shoulder to the rest of the group, then back to me, motioning toward the chair. “I got a bit swept up in being hostess, but can I have ten minutes?” At my hesitation, Mom stepped closer, her eyes imploring. “Please?”
When I turned to Nik, he gave a closed-mouth smile and said, “I’m chill to stay.”
Taking this as acceptance, Mom beamed. “Great. That’s great.” She sat on the end of the bench closest to Nik and patted the space next to her.
I let Mom carry on, asking Nik the typical banal conversation starters. Nik talked about how he enjoyed working at Sunrise, that he’d lived in Knoxville his entire life, that he had an older brother with a kid outside of Asheville that he visited often. Little details about his life that I’d yet to learn, and it made me hungry to learn more.
Then Mom brought up the vow renewal.
“Micah hasn’t said if he’s bringing a plus-one,” she said, light and sweet in a way that meant she had taken a liking to Nik. “But I’ll keep a spot open just in case.”
Fury boiled in my blood, and my fingers curled into a fist. There was no way I could spend another second in this place, around these people. People who ignored the fact that Ada was slipping away more and more, carried further into the abyss.
“So you can extend an invite to someone you’ve known for an hour, but you can’t invite your own daughter?” I asked through clenched teeth. “That’s rich.” Mom’s head reared back and her smile fell, lips parting in shock. When she didn’t say anything in her defense, I stood and huffed a mirthless laugh that was all bite and no warmth. “Fuck this.”
Mom stood and reached out, and I lifted my hands to stay out of her reach. Her face crumpled, and she whispered, “Micah, please don’t do this—”
“Right, can’t bring up the fact that Ada’s out there slowly killing herself while you and Dad get to carry on guilt-free. And I know not to cause a scene, so Nik and I are gonna head out,” I said, jerking my head toward where we entered. “Tell Dad I’ll call him, and we can talk then.”
I flipped around and walked away, turning my head slightly to make sure I hadn’t abandoned Nik by accident. By the time we got into my car, my hands were shaking, and my back had broken out into a sweat. God, I was so sick of feeling like this.
When I drove to the end of the road, I looked back at it in the rearview mirror. This was the road Ada and I played on with other neighborhood kids, the one where we scraped our knees and hands when we lost balance on our bikes, the one where we ran out to dance in the rain one summer with Mom and Dad.
Nik and I didn’t talk the entire ride back to his house. It wasn’t until I pulled into his driveway and put the car in park that I spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make that awkward. I’m the only one out of everyone there that still has contact with Ada, and it can be a point of contention, especially with this wedding renewal my parents have coming up.”
“Your parents sound like they love your sister a lot, and that’s one hard decision to make,” Nik said, unbuckling his safety belt.
There sounded like there was more to that thought, but he’d chosen to hold back on it. “But?”
He scratched the side of his neck, like he was considering if he should continue, and shrugged. “But I can see why they did it.”
“Wait, you agree with what they did?”
Nik chewed on the corner of his bottom lip, his hand running up the inside of his arm and into the crease. “Look, I don’t know their stories, so I’m not gonna say yes or no, but if your sister is as far gone as you’ve said she is?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Ya gotta put the oxygen mask on yourself first.”
A siren roared in my ears, and my throat thickened with emotion that felt like cotton, clogging my lungs and making it nearly impossible to draw a breath. I felt fooled, like somehow, I was the butt of a seriously fucked-up joke.
“I thought if anyone would understand how much Ada needs help, it’d be you,” I said, my voice sounding jammed up.
Nik looked at me with such bafflement it was almost comical. “Do you know how many times my parents pushed me into rehab? Too many to fucking count. Do you know how many of them I walked out on? All of them. You can’t force someone to get clean, Micah. They gotta want it for themselves, and even then, it may not happen.”
“You think I haven’t heard this before? That you’re imparting some sage wisdom? Well, you’re not,” I said, my voice strung tight.
“And yet you’re still not listening,” Nik said with equal strain in his tone. “You keep doing this, you’re gonna get your heart broken, and I lov—”
He bit off the word, his voice shaking with emotion that shook off the windows of the car. I knew what he was about to say, and the confession hung heavily between us, doing nothing to calm my stampeding heart. Watching Nik’s face twisted in agony, his shoulders rising to his ears, I felt the lead weight in my chest shift, pushing deeper until it was like my ribs cracked.
“Knowing how close you are to that kind of situation fucking kills me,” he said, pained. He sagged into his seat and stared up at the ceiling, exhaling a long breath. He rolled his head toward me, his gaze piercing.
“You know I’m here for you, right?” he asked. There was a subtle undertone in his voice, as if he needed to speak his thoughts aloud to affirm their validity for the both of us.
I nodded, choosing silence because if I spoke, I’d risk all spilling all the pain and suffering I’d been carrying, soiling this beautiful thing I’d found so much solace in.
That silence stretched out for what seemed an eternity before Nik spoke.
