Page 124 of Let the Light Shine Through

“Until you stop getting back up.” She drops her voice. “Stay down. Please.”

A car door opens and closes, then an engine flares to life. I expect a second one to follow, but when it doesn’t, I glance behind me, finding Rowdy hesitating.

At first, neither of us speaks, so I slowly get to my feet, turning around to ask him, “Were you more worried about me? Or her?” Because he’s never wanted us to be together. I could see it in his eyes, even from the beginning.

“Her. It’s always about her.”

Yeah, I know the feeling.

“Back in the day, I was that awkward new kid that changed schools in the middle of fifth grade. Everybody had grown up with everybody since kindergarten, so I didn’t fit in anywhere. But Gia was…”

“Gia.”

“Gia was Gia.” He nods. “Even then. She was fearless, she was different, she was happy. But she went through it with Vita’s death. It was brutal on everybody, but especially Gia, because she was right there with her mom, every step of the way. She spent a year by Vita’s side, watching her die. Her fucking mom, man.”

Rowdy blurs in front of me, and when my vision clears, his eyes are just as bad—red and brimming with tears.

“At the end, when there was nothing left for her and Al to do but sit and watch the center of their universe slip away, I could see it, I could see the way Gia was shutting connections off, left and right, to everyone except me and Al. We’re the exception, but just barely. Just fucking barely, because Gia would never willingly put anyone else through what she went through. Then, something happened. You happened. You’re the only person I’ve ever seen her keep around and the fact that she’s fighting so hard to cut ties with you means she loves you as much as her own family.”

She loves me.

Gia honks her horn and he runs a hand over his fauxhawk, telling me, “I’m sorry, but Gia needs me.”

She does need Rowdy. And she needs Al.

But she needs me, too. I hold one of those ties she told me would keep her here. Otherwise, if she was just tied to Earth, she could float away like a balloon.

She’s crazy, absolutely nuts, if she really thinks I’ll stay down, this time or any other.

Sometimes you gotta out-crazy the crazy.

“What are you gonna do?” Rowdy asks, half-turned.

“What I always do after a wipeout. Get my ass back up and go twice as hard.”

“You better be ready, man. This shit won’t be easy.”

I’m ready.

“Do me a favor and drop her by my house when you’re finished.”

“She’s not gonna go for it. You heard her. Her mind’s made up.”

I let a smile pull the corner of my lips. “So is mine.”

Gia

“Rowdy, what the hell? What are we doing here?” I ask, slinking down in my seat so I won’t be seen.

From the driver’s seat, he just exhales, but in an ominous way that I don’t like the sound of.

Seriously?

I’m so tired I can barely lift my arms, but I do anyway, telling my best friend to speed up before Roz or any of his roommates can come out and see my truck lingering outside their house. He knows what it was like for me to break up with Roz. He’s been the one catching the pieces that keep shedding off me in jagged shards ever since we left Roz standing in my driveway.

At one point, the tears clouding my vision got so bad, I had to pull over and let Rowdy drive the rest of the way until we reached the telephone lines we ride along every fall. Then when I was riding, it didn’t matter if I could see or not. I know what’s out there; I have it memorized like a mental vision board of inspiration. The poles are kept clear of vegetation the entire way down the lines, for miles and miles and miles, with lush borders on both sides of deciduous trees currently in the middle of the color change New York is so damn good at. After the trees shed as many of their leaves as possible comes the big freeze, killing off anything stubborn enough to still be attached.

Even with my nose being stuffed up, I tried to breathe in the earthiness of plants hunkering down in preparation for winter to remind myself why I’m doing this—closing in on myself, making my reach smaller, so when the cold does take over, and the harsh, icy tendrils of cancer grip my heart, there’s no one else there to feel the blast.