Elijah and I exchange a glance.
“I’ll just spit it out, okay? You can’t tell my parents that Elijah exists. Like not just now, but ever. I don’t think they would be happy about it, and not just because I went against their wishes and looked for my birth parents.” Sasha runs a hand over her face, her sullen features seeming to turn darker the longer the video plays. “I just learned something new. So … so here’s the thing.”
She swallows and looks at her hands, which are somewhere in her lap where we can’t see them. “I’d been wondering if I should tell my parents that I found Elijah, but I didn’t know how to bring it up, so I tried to be all casual and stuff at dinner last night. I mentioned to my parents that I think blood cancer can be hereditary. Then I wondered out loud if any of my birth family had it as well.” On screen, she rolls her eyes. “As you can imagine, my parents just kinda shuffled along and tried to talk about something else, but I didn’t let it go. I said I wondered if I had any siblings or cousins or something who should be warned to get themselves tested for cancer. I mean, right? It was a legitimate concern. Well, they scoffed and said that it’d be impossible to warn everyone I was related to in the world and that I should just get over it.”
Whatever Sasha has to say next, she takes a long time saying it. Her eyes flit downward, her hands twisting together. A cool breeze sends a shiver up my spine and Elijah wraps his arm around my shoulders. Sasha draws in a deep breath. “When I went upstairs after dinner, I overheard them talking. Mom said it might be a good idea to let the adoption people know about my cancer just in case — and I’m quoting verbatim here — ‘the boy needs to be warned.’ And then Dad said something about how he’s probably screwed up enough as it is, and that she should let it go.”
She shakes her head slowly. “The boy. So yeah. They know. They know about you, Elijah. And they never told me, and they’re not gonna tell you about my cancer. They don’t even care what could happen to you.”
Her eyes flood with tears and she peers into her webcam, struggling to keep her composure. “I’m sorry, Elijah. I don’t know why my parents didn’t want you then. I wish they did. I wish we could have been a family. And I don’t know why they won’t help you now. They’re good people, okay? They really are.”
She wipes away tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t understand why they did what they did, but if they didn’t want you back then, they don’t get to know you now.” She shakes her head. “I’m such an idiot. I actually thought the two of you would make a really cute couple, you know?” She holds up her hands. “You’re perfect for each other! But now there’s no way you can be together without them finding out and making everything awkward.”
Sasha stares at the camera for a long time. “My parents thought you’d be screwed up? Why, just because you were in a group home? I’ve never been so embarrassed by my family before. I’m sorry, guys. This sucks and it hurts and it’s stupid.” She looks me right in the eyes. “I have to record another video now. Sorry this one sucked. I love you both. Bye.”
Elijah lowers his tablet.
“I’m so sorry.” My words are meaningless, of course. Nothing can make up for what we just heard. I grab his arm, try to look at him, but he’s focused on the sky beyond the horizon.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Raquel.” His lips quiver into a shaky smile. “I guess I just … don’t understand. They seem like such great people. That’s all I keep hearing — how nice they are.”
On instinct, I want to say yes. They are good people. I feel the words rising to my tongue. But then I picture th
e Cades talking in hushed tones behind their daughter’s back, deciding not to contact the orphan boy they know exists, and my reality turns on its side.
“Well, now we know,” I say instead. “This is why Sasha doesn’t want us to be together.”
His hand grabs my waist, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason,” he murmurs.
My insides shatter, too many emotions all competing for space in my withered heart. I lean against his shoulder until he gives me a quick hug and steps back.
“You should get home.” His chest fills up slowly and then deflates. “I think I’m going to go for a drive. Clear my mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
On Wednesday morning, my phone rings two hours before my alarm is supposed to go off. The number is unknown, but I know who it is — the only person who would call me at this ridiculous hour.
“Elijah?”
“Hey.”
The chatter of people talking and phones ringing filters in through the line. It sounds like he’s in some kind of office. Or worse — a hospital. I sit up in bed.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m in jail.”
I sigh, palming my forehead. The hospital might have been a better answer. “What happened? What the hell did you do?”
“Nothing. Well — speeding, but, basically nothing.” Exhaling, I cover my eyes with my hand. Sasha trusted you, Elijah. “Since when do they take you to jail for speeding?”
“They don’t. They take you to jail for a warrant.”
I don’t know what to say. I really don’t know what to think. The silence stretches on so long that Elijah starts talking again.
“It’s nothing, I am a good person. I swear to you. Last week they raided my old apartment, and Anthony and my other roommates all got busted for cocaine and pot distribution. They had a shit-ton of it in the apartment, and since I was living there, too, up until last week, I got lumped in as an accomplice and charged with Intent to Distribute.”
“But you don’t live there anymore!” The panic is so consuming I’m only vaguely aware that I shouldn’t be yelling this early in the morning. The last thing I need is for my mom to come barging in here, wondering what’s wrong. “They can’t do that,” I grind out in a lower voice.