“No. You told me what you would and wouldn’t do. It’s not the same thing. You can go to Chile. You’re just choosing not to.”
“Logan—”
“Stop using your brother as an excuse!”
“He’s not an excuse!”
“Sure he is. Maybe you don’t see it that way, but I do. And so does he, or he wouldn’t have gone behind your back the way he did.”
What little color was left in Ash’s face drains out at my words, leaving him ghost pale and just as unsteady. “You don’t understand anything.”
I should go. Enough time has passed that it wouldn’t look like I was running away, and besides, we’re not going to get anything accomplished here. Ash isn’t going to change his mind and I’m not going to change mine. It would be better for him, better for me, better for Logan, even, if I just walked out now and never came back.
As for Timmy, well Timmy already knows that life rarely works out the way it’s supposed to. He’s just going to have to learn to deal with this latest in a long line of disappointments, no matter how much I wish it was different for him.
Except, as I glance over Ash’s shoulder, a movement in the doorway catches my eye. It’s Logan, in his wheelchair. He’s sitting tall and silent and completely still, except for the frantic shaking of his head.
For a moment I have no idea what he’s trying to tell me, what he wants me to do. Except he’s silently mouthing something and as I study his mouth, I realize that the word he keeps repeating, is Please.
Combined with the look on his face, it breaks my resolve. Just shatters it wide open and I grit my teeth as I curse fate, the universe and my damn bleeding heart. Seriously? Can I really just not catch a break here?
Taking a deep breath, I grab on to Ash’s chin, force his blank gaze to meet mine. “Ash, look, this whole thing has been a disaster from the very beginning. I’m sorry about that. I take full responsibility for everything that’s happened.”
He shakes his head, zones back in. “Tansy, no—”
“It’s my turn to talk,” I interrupt. “Please.”
He doesn’t look happy, but he nods, and doesn’t say anything else, so I keep barreling through an explanation that I haven’t had time to plan out and that I barely comprehend myself. “Look, I understand a lot more than you give me credit for. You don’t want Logan to get hurt. You’re afraid the trip is going to be too hard for him. You think he’s not going to be able to handle everything that it entails.
“I don’t know if that’s the case or not. If it is, then I’ll be the first one to say that we don’t go. The last thing I would ever want is to put your brother in any kind of jeopardy. But I think it’s fairly obvious that he wants to go. More, that he wants you to go. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have done what he did. So I think you owe it to him—not yourself, not even Timmy—but him, to explore the options. To see what’s possible.
“Talk to his doctors, see what he needs to make the trip. See if he even can make the trip. If not, we’ll go up to Oregon like we originally planned. But know that whatever he needs, I’ll get it for him. I promise. If I need to go back to the donor and get more money, then I’ll do that, too. Whatever it takes to keep Logan safe and healthy, I’m on board for.
“But, please, please, don’t reject this without even thinking about it. I think it would be a mistake. For you, your brother and for Timmy. I—” My voice breaks a little and I clear my throat, force myself to talk through the embarrassment and the sadness that are filling me up.
“I already told Timmy this was a done deal. I don’t want to call him back and tell him it isn’t. That it was all a mistake. Please, Ash.” I reach out, lay a hand on his arm, and I swear I can feel the burn from the contact all the way to the bone. “He’s so excited. He wants to meet you so badly, wants to watch you snowboard so badly. So does Logan. Please, don’t make me ruin that for either of them.”
My voice breaks on the last few words and I turn my head, totally ashamed of my lack of professionalism. But, God, nothing else about this situation has been professional. Why should I worry about starting now?
“Why does it matter to you so much?” he demands after a second. “Why this kid? Why this trip?”
“Because Timmy’s been through hell. For months, years. Practically his whole life has been about fighting cancer. Blood transfusions, bone marrow transplants, chemotherapy, radiation, surgeries. He’s spent his entire life dealing with all that crap and now, now he and his parents have been told that it was all useless. That all his suffering was for nothing. That he’s going to die anyway.
“I just want him to have something good, something that’s awesome and amazing and all his, before that happens. I want him to have something to take out of this life with him.”
“Fuck.” The word is ripped from Ash again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He looks almost deranged as he shoves his hands through his hair. I reach out for him, because how can I not? Even after everything that’s happened here—everything he’s said to me—he’s so hurt. In so much pain. So shattered. How can I not want to help?
My hand skims down his back at the same moment he spots Logan, huddled in the doorway. “How long have you been there?” he demands hoarsely.
Logan sticks his chin in the air, keeping his gaze steady on his brother’s. “Long enough to know that we’re going to Chile.”
Ash studies him with eyes turned the color of a stormy winter sky. “Are you sure?”
Logan nods. “Dude, I’m paralyzed. Yeah, it sucks. But I’m still here and I’m going to still be here for a long time. That kid, who’s almost my age, who could be me if I wasn’t so much luckier … all he wants before he dies is to meet you. To see you board. So, yeah, I’m sure.”
Ash doesn’t react right away, but then, neither do I. How can I when this kid—this fourteen-year-old kid who has already been through so much in his life—just made everything crystal clear?