I nod.
She answers by getting out of the car and opening my door. I gently take her hand and lead her straight to the bathroom to show her the Code of the Heart. I tear off the old poem from the mirror. She helps me tape the new one on, exactly how it was before. I thought I’d feel weird about showing her the poem, but I’m relieved. More than anything, I don’t want to be alone right now. And she’s here.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Is there anything I can—” I interrupt her by pulling her into a kiss.
She makes a startled noise, but then kisses me back. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I don’t want to talk. I want to feel something other than pain. And right now, I do.
I pull Bo closer and back up toward the bathroom door. I slide a hand behind me to open it. We stumble into my room, and I can’t ignore the sound of glass cracking under our feet. I know Bo won’t ignore it, either. A pathetic whimper slips out of my mouth without my permission. I don’t realize my cheeks are wet until Bo pulls away.
Her eyes go from the glass on the carpet to my hands, then back up to my eyes. I wipe them and look down to avoid looking at her. But down is where the glass is, and I don’t want to look at that either.
“Sorry . . . I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say, shaking.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Yami.”
She couldn’t be more wrong. I back away toward my bed without taking my eyes off the glass. I sit at the edge of the bed.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.” Bo leaves, and I let her. I probably freaked her out, so I don’t blame her. I kick my shoes off and curl into myself on the bed, but I don’t hear the front door open. Instead, I hear water running from the kitchen sink. Bo comes back into my room with a glass.
“Where’s your vacuum?” she asks, and hands me the cup. I stare at the water.
“You’re not leaving?”
“Not unless you want me to,” she says.
“Hall closet.” I point, smiling despite the situation. “You don’t have to clean this up for me. I can do it,” I say, even though I know I won’t until my mom makes me.
Bo ignores me and leaves to get the vacuum. I get up to help, but she kicks my shoes away so I can’t put them on.
“Stay on the bed or you’ll cut your feet!”
I laugh and finish the water while the glass disappears from the floor.
Bo leaves before my mom comes home, so I have some time to myself. I’m still pissed at my mom, but I’d almost rather be around her than be alone with my thoughts right now. I distract myself by pulling out my laptop and googling “how to support someone who is suicidal.” It basically says I’m supposed to ask all these questions. I sigh and shut my laptop, because I just know Cesar would hate that. What does Google know, anyway? I guess I wanted Google to tell me something that made more sense than all of this.
When my mom gets here, she doesn’t even come inside, just honks the horn for me to come out. We’re visiting Cesar at Horizon today, but since we’re still barely on speaking terms, we’re both silent the entire ride until I make her stop at the gas station to get Takis for Cesar. When we go in to visit him, we do it individually, so Cesar doesn’t have to deal with our tension while we’re there.
They tell me I can share the Takis with Cesar, but he has to eat them during the visit. Mom goes first, so I sit in the waiting room until she comes back. I feel like the Takis are stale by the time she’s finally ready to tag me in.
We have to meet in this community room where a few other patients are having visitors, too. There are a few nurses on the sides of the room, but they look more like security guards than nurses. On instinct I want to bust him out of here, but I have to remind myself he’s here to get help. He needs help.