Page 81 of A Bittersweet Summer
When I arrived, my mother had been fuming. She’d gone over all that could have gone wrong in my time sauntering off with my friends—told me I owed it to the family to be more responsible.
I shut my eyes against that sinking feeling of guilt.If you can be bothered to step away from that job of yours. The cold words burrow beneath my skin, making me itchy. It’s like I’ve stepped out into the woods behind the farm without bug spray. I can’t be consumed by guilt for the things I’m not responsible for. Whateverthisis, it has little to do with me. I’m there for Gus, I always am, but what my mom is asking is that I sacrifice myself to the altar of her anxiety.
She’s worried about Gus, Iknowthis. And maybe she’s coping with that worry by throwing her fears in my direction.
I feel the weight of Wes’s hand on my back before he starts rubbing slow circles. “We can go in an hour or two,” he whispers, so low my mom can’t hear him.
“Right,” I say. “Let me text him and see what time would be best. You said he’s in good spirits?”
“Of course he is,” she scoffs. “He told me he had a fever and developed some kind of infection, but don’t bother asking. Apparently, I’m no longer privy to the pertinent information.”
“I’ll text him.”
I hang up, and Roe stares at me, mouth agape. “That woman needs to be told off.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “She is not so bad when you—”
“Give me the phone,” Roe holds her hand out. “I’d be happy to do it. It would fill me with joy, actually.”
Wes pockets the device. “This isn’tourmother, Rosemary. In fact, maybe you should turn your attention to fighting her instead.”
Roe bends to grab the guitar case. “No can do,” she says. “We are finally in a good place, there. I need to start picking fights elsewhere.”
I know what Wes doesn’t say. They’re in a good place because his sister finally caved. She gave up on the dreams she’d carried since childhood and settled for the family business.
We talked about that very thing a few nights ago. He’s worried about Rosemary—unsettled. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, but nobody moves or says anything.
“Let me get a hold of Gus,” I say. “I think I have a few more minutes for lunch.” I glance at the wrap that now sits covered in dirt and rocks on the ground. “And I think maybe my meal is over. I’ll just walk down and get my phone so I can text him.”
Wes wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in until I can smell fresh-cut grass and hay. “I can come with you,” he said. “Maybe we can stop at that coffee shop in the city on the way. The one where you interviewed.”
“Ellis still swears by those vegan poptarts. We could get one for him as a surprise. One for Megan, too.”
“Ellis is vegan?” Roe asks. “Didn’t we have burgers last week when everyone was over for a bonfire at your place? I could have sworn I saw her eat one.”
I chuckle, my body returning to a more neutral state. “No,” I shake my head. “She’s just a sucker for cooked apples and pastries of all kinds.”
When I finally get hold of my phone, I see four missed calls from mom, a text from Gus telling me not to worry, and a more detailed text from Megan about what’s going on.
Megan:He has some kind of infection—a complication from surgery. There’s an abscess on his liver that they’re draining. I guess he went septic.
Megan:I’m sorry to dump this on you. I’m not used to… all of this. I was a bit scared. I’m still scared. He looks so thin, Cass.
I take to Google, finding out as much information as I can. It only serves to make me angry—at the doctors, at my mom, at the universe. Sepsis is difficult to survive once, and this is the second time my brother has had it, though that hasn’t been since I was in high school.
I quickly type out a text to August.
Me:Do you want some pastries? Are you hungry?
His response is immediate.
Gus:Hospital food sucks ass. Please bring me literally anything. I’ll take diarrhea from gas station sushi at this point.
Gus:One perk of being the patient is if I shit myself, it’s not really my problem.
Mom was right.
He’s in good spirits, all things considered.
