“No, Audrey, I most certainly don’t. I’m only telling you what I see. And even if you don’t want to hear it, I’m going to tell you what I know.” She pushes her chair away from the table. I grab her hand before she can stand. “Nothing will change without incentive. With no light at the end of the tunnel, he will continue to refuse to cooperate. You need to speak with your parents again.”

Audrey throws her hands in the air. “Yes, that’s exactly what I need to do. Bang my head up against the wall for the hundredth time.”

Lucas’s parents hold all the cards. After his third suicide attempt, a bottle full of prescription pills shoved down his throat, they obtained a judicial commitment that remains in place to this day. Lucas’s refusal to cooperate with his treatment only adds fuel to the fire, and the courts have extended the commitment time after time.

“They can’t continue to bury their heads in the sand while Lucas rots in that hospital,” I whisper forcefully. I squeeze the bridge of my nose in an attempt to push back the headache pulsing behind my eyes. “He needs a gesture, Aud. It doesn’t have to be huge, but he needs something. Maybe a day pass home if he takes his meds and attends therapy sessions for two weeks.”

“It won’t work. They never listen to a word I say. It only makes them dig their feet in deeper.”

She doesn’t see it this way, but watching her cross her arms and shake her head shows me they’re not the only ones who aren’t listening. Maybe it’s time for a different approach.

“Fine,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll make the trip tomorrow, and I won’t leave until they hear me out.”

“Have you lost your mind? You can’t do that!”

“What choice do I have?”

Audrey places her hand on the table and leads toward me with pleading eyes. “If you think they’ll listen to a word you say, you’re wrong.” Her eyes fill with tears. “They’ll deny you visitation again, Cece. Sometimes I feel like they’re looking for a reason to do just that. Please don’t give them one. Where do you think Lucas would be then?”

The fear settles in my gut, and I close my eyes. I know she’s right. My relationship with the Landrys is tenuous at best. They tolerate my presence in Lucas’s life, but just barely.

After his suicide attempt that night so long ago, I had no choice but to break my promise to him. I told Mrs. Cindy and Mr. Gene everything, including his first suicide attempt the night of Grams’s funeral. My confessions opened the floodgates to a thousand questions.

How long have you known about this?

Why didn’t you tell anyone?

How could you think you were qualified to handle him?

What else have you kept from us?

I kept looking to Mrs. Cindy, waiting for her to speak up on my behalf and admit I tried to warn her. I felt sure she would defend me or at least show me some understanding.

She never said a word.

That was the day I lost the only parental figures I had left. They blamed me for what happened, and I couldn’t much argue with them. Not only did I make the worst decision of my life, I continued to make it over and over again, day after day. I made the conscious decision to keep Lucas’s secret—it wasn’t a quick decision made in the heat of the moment. It was an irresponsible choice made by a stupid girl, and Lucas paid the ultimate price.

It didn’t take long for the psychiatrists to diagnose Lucas. Chronic paranoid schizophrenia. They used phrases like “severe,” “difficult to treat,” and “poor prognosis.” After all these years, the words still feel like condemnation. Lucas doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

The first time I went to the hospital to see him, I found out the Landrys denied me visitation. Lucas was locked up in this scary hospital, all alone, and I couldn’t have any contact with him.

It would have been kinder to kill me. At least my suffering would end. Those were the darkest days I’d ever faced. Guilt and regret threatened to suffocate me.

I didn’t know it at the time, but Lucas was even worse off than me. Since his admission, he’d refused to eat or speak until he saw me. When his weight loss had hit twenty pounds, they’d finally relented. Now, I’m allowed to visit him weekly with the stipulation that Audrey be present as a chaperone.

It’s the only concession they’ve made in six long years.

So as much as I hate to admit it, Audrey’s right. I can’t bear the thought of losing all contact with him again. I’ve hurt Lucas enough. I have no other options.

Audrey squeezes my hand and gives me a watery smile. “I know you don’t think there was any improvement, but I know he looked better today.”

I know too much to believe Audrey’s words. Can Lucas improve? Absolutely. Without a doubt. I see my patients thrive every day with the proper therapy, medication, and support. But, right now, he is refusing two of these things, and his family support can be considered misguided, at best. Part of me believes his parents think they are doing what’s best for him. The other part of me believes they are doing what’s best for them, hiding their son away from judgmental eyes.

“Okay, Audrey.” I still don’t agree, but I’m all out of fight today.

“Please, Celia, just have a little faith. He’s going to get better and things will go back to the way they used to be. You’ll see.”

She stands and tosses her purse over her shoulder, signaling it’s time to go. I’m grateful for the distraction, because I’m hoping Audrey can’t see what’s written plainly on my heart.

What would my best friend say if she knew I didn’t want things to go back to the way they used to be?

How would she feel if I told her my feelings for Cain are more potent and consuming than anything I’ve ever felt for Lucas, and I don’t think faded memories are to blame?

Unfortunately, my head knows what my heart can’t accept. If she knew any of this, I would surely lose the only family I have left. A person can only shoulder so much loss in a lifetime—I know this to be an irrevocable fact. Audrey leaving me would tip the scale. I would break from the weight of it.

So I tuck my secret away, safely out of sight. It’s what I do best. It’s all I know.

“A Drop In The Ocean” by Ron Pope

Present Day

I TIP BACK the shot glass in one smooth motion and signal to the bartender to bring me another. The whiskey burns a trail down my throat, searing the remnants of the words I spat in anger. I spent the day stewing on what went wrong with Celia and how things could have been different. But fuck that. Tonight I want to drown. Another glass of amber liquid appears in front of me, and I indulge once again.

“Hey, I thought that was you. My cuz getting wasted alone at a local dive. I’ve got to say, not your usual style, man.” Will shakes his head and claps a hand on my back before climbing on the stool beside me.

“Fuck off, man. I’m not in the mood tonight,” I tell him in a clipped tone, looking straight ahead.

“Dude, no judgment here. Hell, I’ll get liquored up with you. I’m just not used to you drowning your sorrows. You’re the happiest guy I know.” Will chuckles and signals the bartender.

I sigh loudly and run a hand down my face. “Look, I appreciate it, really I do. But this happy guy wants to be left alone. Another day, yeah?”

Will squeezes my shoulder and picks up the beer the bartender left him before standing. “I get your not-so-subtle hint, but if you change your mind,” he says, pointing to a group of overdressed douchebags by the pool tables. “I’m with those assholes over there. If you’re up for it later, we could team up and hustle a few hundred out of their preppy asses. Seriously, they need the lesson, so we’d be doing them a favor.”