“Could Bastien and I have a minute with Javier?” I ask, softly. “Just a minute. Please?”
She looks from me to Bastien to Javier and then back up to me. She squeezes Javi’s hand again, then nods and stands.
“Of course,” she says. “I’ll be back, Javi. Promise.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he says, and she takes me by the shoulder, then kisses me on the cheek before she leaves. Bastien watches her go, then closes the curtain, walks back to Javier’s bedside.
“Sorry, I needed to do something before she started naming your grandchildren,” I tell them.
I love my mom dearly, but the way that she deals with hard emotions is often by imagining a happy-but-far-away future, and I don’t think Javier needs that kind of pressure right now.
“Well, Raul and Paloma, obviously,” Bastien jokes.
“Are those the names you and your future girlfriend will be using?” I ask, sweetly, teasing him right back.
Bastien just grimaces.
“Right,” he says. “The sweet, innocent girl who’s out there just waiting for me, and who is very definitely female and not a six-foot-one lacrosse player named Liam from Colorado.”
My eyes go wide.
“Is there a Liam?” I ask.
Ever-so-slightly, Javier’s eyebrows go up, and there’s a flicker of interest in his dark eyes, but Bastien just snorts.
“I wish,” he says. “Sorry, that was more of a request from the universe than a statement of fact.”
“Colorado?” Javier asks, rough and scratchy, and Bastien shrugs.
“People seem like they’re always outdoors in Colorado,” he says. “It’s rugged, you know?”
It’s still weird that Bastien and I have the same taste in men. It makes sense, but it’s weird. I like to think that it would also be weird if he were my straight sister, but who knows. Maybe I’m homophobic in this very specific way. Something to contemplate later.
“He still hasn’t told Mom and Dad,” I tell Javier.
“Can’t blame him,” Javier says.
“I’m not saying he should,” I amend myself. “Just that he hasn’t.”
“They also don’t know that Ollie’s boyfriend is her calculus professor,” Bastien says. “He’s outside, she wouldn’t let him meet you like this.”
“He’s not my professor any more,” I point out. “Semester’s over.”
Javier swallows hard, and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple. His pupils are enormous, and it’s impossible to tell where they end and his irises begin.
“You did that?” he asks. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I admit, shifting my weight to my other foot, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah.”
Javier shakes his head, almost like he’s admonishing me, and for a moment there’s a glimpse of the older brother I used to have.
“They’re gonna freak the fuck out,” he says, still raspy, unnatural sounding, still shaking his head. Now he’s shaking it like he’s in a trance and can’t stop, his hands twisting in the bedsheets. “Dad’s gonna flip his shit. He really is.”
He’s right, and several minutes too late, I realize that Caleb and my parents are now all together, somewhere outside this room, and I say a quick silent prayer that my dad hasn’t made any veiled-or-not threats to him yet.
“That’s my problem,” I say, quickly. “We’re not here about my problems.”
Javier pushes his head back against the pillow, his hands still twisting, clenching, like he can’t stop moving.
“Rehab didn’t work,” he says. “I tried it.”
“If you look at the statistics, it almost always takes a couple of rounds,” I say.
“Jesus,” he mutters.
“Many people find Him helpful during the process, yes,” Bastien adds in.
“It’s not going to work,” Javier says, and now he sits up a little, his face going even grayer, pushing at the sheets he’s got over himself. “Last time I lasted a week after I got home. One whole week. Woo-fucking-hoo.”
“That’s got nothing —”
“Then stay clean for more than a week,” Bastien interrupts me, suddenly grabbing the rails of Javier’s bed and leaning over it. “Try two weeks this time, Javi. Maybe go for a whole three.”
Javier swallows again, twice, convulsively.
“And if you relapse we’ll put you back in rehab and when you come out you’ll go for four,” Bastien says. “You’re not escaping us.”
We both know that we’re not what Javi wants to escape, but neither of us say that out loud. I don’t know how to deal with that. Bastien doesn’t know how to deal with that, so we just stay quiet and hope that someone, somewhere will.
“If you go, I’ll give you all the dirt on Bastien,” I offer. “Here’s a preview: his college major isn’t what he told Mom and Dad it is.”
Bastien grins awkwardly and gives Javier a thumbs-up.
“I want the dirt on her, too,” Javier tells him.
“Done,” Bastien agrees.
“And I want to meet this,” he says, then swallows again, takes a breath, “shady-ass professor who thinks he can date my little sister while she’s in his class.”
“He’s older than you, too,” I volunteer. “I went full-on bad girl, and I’ll tell you about it if you go to rehab.”