“He’s back,” Zeke sighs. He sits on the floor, leans on my bed, and closes his eyes briefly.
“Do you want me to wake up Dad?” The female voice on the other side of the phone asks.
“No, I think I have it,” he answers, glancing over at me. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Call if you need me, okay?”
Zeke grabs my hands, looks at me, and says, “You need help, dude. I don’t know what happened to you, but this isn’t normal.”
“Can we play music?” I ask.
“If you don’t mind me playing piano,” he says. “I have to practice before I visit Hannah. Plus, my arms are sore. I’ve been hitting the drums too hard and too often.”
“That sounds good,” I say, instead of asking about this Hannah.
He stands up and grabs my hand, pulling me up from the bed. “You never told me what you play.”
“I’m an orchestra geek,” I confess, waiting for him to laugh at me.
He studies me for a second and then asks, “What does that mean?”
“I played cello during middle school, but since they didn’t have a cello in my high school, I played the violin. For the jazz club, I played double bass.”
He grins, “I like jazz. We don’t have a double bass, but you can try following with the bass guitar.”
The following Monday, I’m back at the Decker’s place. Tucker’s grandfathers are homeschooling us at least until the end of May. If I’m honest with myself, I’m loving the idea of having a one-on-one instructor. Also, I’m in no hurry to go back to school.
“How’s the new place?” Chris asks as we walk to the kitchen to prepare lunch.
“I’m adjusting,” I respond.
What else can I say? I don’t want him to know that I wake up my roommate every night because I have nightmares. They might offer to bring me back to their house, and I don’t want to be a burden for them. Six weeks living here was plenty.
“And the roommate?”
There are so many things I can answer about him. He’s hot. I love his eyes. We enjoy playing music together. We barely speak. I’m pretty sure he wants to kill me in my sleep.
Since I have no idea how to respond I say, “What about him?”
“Are you two getting along?”
“He’s fine,” I answer.
“Uh-oh, what’s wrong with him?”
Zeke is fine. I’m what’s wrong. I’ve been judging him since we moved in together. He’s been nothing but friendly with me, and I keep pushing him away.
“He’s fine,” I insist.
He nods. “Are you sure?”
Before I can answer, Gabe enters the kitchen. “What are we having for lunch?”
“Sandwiches,” Chris answers.
Tucker is right behind him.
“Hey,” he says, tilting his head toward the backyard door.
When he walks away, I follow behind. Once we’re outside, he exhales and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Are you okay?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I wish I could move to the shelter with you,” he states.
“Things with your parents are still weird?”
“The understatement of the year,” he huffs. “I don’t know them. They insist that I’m part of this family, but I don’t fit. A few months ago, Thea was just an idea. The woman who abandoned me. Now, she’s real. She insists that giving me up for adoption was the best for me. I don’t know what to make out of that statement. I want to hate her, but she’s too nice. Her husbands are trying to be my fathers. I don’t need them.”
He does.
“This is better than living with your mother and her boyfriend. Why don’t we wait until we turn eighteen, and then we can leave,” I suggest, then remember that he’s in the middle of a guardianship dispute. His mother is fighting to get him back from the Deckers.
It’s hard for him to adjust to living with the mother who abandoned him and her big family. Even harder to go to therapists, have social workers visit him, and recount what he lived through at home. At least he has his mother and fathers. They love him unconditionally.
If we run away, how are we going to support ourselves?
Today, I start working at a flower shop. It’s part of my agreement with The Cooperson Center. Usually, they assign jobs within the Cooperson company, but they made an exception with me. They want me to hang out more with my roommate. I don’t, but at least I’ll have some money.
It can’t get any better for me. Even though I love Tuck with all my heart, and I would follow him to the end of the world, I can’t just leave. I’ll waste the biggest opportunity of my life.
Is it hard to adjust? Fuck, yes. I can’t sleep well.
Do I wish I was living with Tucker instead of Zeke?
Obviously, but that’s just my stupid heart wanting to be more to Tuck than just his best friend.
“I hate to agree with you,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “If I ask them to let me live in the center with you?”
“You can try,” I answer, but I doubt his parents will let him do it.
“Boys, lunch is ready,” one of his grandparents calls to us.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assure him.
More like I lie to him. I don’t know if things will get any better. I can’t sleep, or if I do, I have night terrors. All I have going for me is knowing that Tucker is safe and we’re still close.
Chapter Ten
Zeke
“You’ve been practicing.” Hannah smiles proudly as I finish playing the piano.
“He’s supposed to be playing drums,” Kade argues, pats my shoulder, and sighs. “But you did great, kid.”
“You’ve said it before, ‘Music isn’t about instruments, but what’s in your soul.’ I’m teaching him what you taught me, Dad. I bet Matt is just focusing on drums.”
I haven’t told Hannah that I’m studying music. It’s one of my daily classes. I’m learning more than just to hit the drums. One of my tutors is teaching me music theory, history, and how to play the recorder. It’s so fucking lame, but he insists that I have to learn the basics.
Between Matt, Hannah, and my tutor, I’m learning a lot. I might not become a famous musician, but I enjoy what I’m doing. It beats reading a book or solving a mathematical problem.
“How’s the new place?” Kade asks.
“It’s better than any other homes I’ve lived in—other than your house, of course.”
“And your roommate?” he questions. “Hannah said he’s having night terrors.”
“He is,” I confirm. “I’m not sure what his deal is, but when he can’t sleep, we end up in the music room playing.”
Kade’s phone rings. He looks at the screen and sighs. “I have to take this. We’ll see you on Thursday, right?”
“Yes, I’ll be here for my next driving lesson,” I confirm.
“I have a suggestion for you,” Hannah says once her dad is gone. She takes a seat on the piano bench next to me. We begin to fidget with the keys.