He turned me to face him and brushed my wet hair back out of my face. I looked up at him, blinking as the rain fell heavier from the night sky. We were standing under a broken streetlight that flickered every few seconds. The wind howled around us and the cold air of the night burned my lungs as I inhaled.
“What’s goin’ on?” I demanded. “I don’t understand any of what I heard.”
“Come inside out of the rain—”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is goin’ on!”
Risk leaned his head back and exhaled, his hot breath fogging the air around him. When he looked back down at me, water ran from his matted, sopping wet hair down his sculpted face.
“The day your mum had her accident, Hayes got a phone call from a representative from New Chord Records. It’s a small American record label. They saw videos of us online and they listened to our EP. They love our sound, our lyrics and our look. They’re flying us out to Los Angeles on Wednesday so we can meet the executives of the company. They’re offerin’ us a record deal and if we like what they have to say, we’ll be signed to their label.”
I stared up at Risk, my heart hammering inside my chest.
“What’s the catch?” I asked. “I know there is one, you wouldn’t have kept this from me otherwise.”
“They let us know that if we sign with them, we have . . . we have to move to Los Angeles for a couple of years to work with them on improving our sound and searching for a fourth member. They know we’ve been looking for a drummer and they’re giving us time to find someone who fits in with the band. They mentioned putting us up in an small apartment while we write and record an album. They’re a small company so they need us to be committed to them as they haven’t got extra money to waste. We need to be in the same city to cancel out travel expenses. It’ll be hardcore work for us until we release the album we’ve been writing—”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” I interrupted. “Why? This is huge.”
I felt sick. Processing his words was incredibly difficult.
“Because of your mum,” he stated. “How could I just spring the best news of my life onto you when your world was crashin’ down around you?”
“Because this is somethin’ I need to know, Risk. That’s why!”
He reached for me and for the first time in our relationship, I recoiled from his touch. Hurt filled his blue eyes and his arm dropped limply to his side. He didn’t take his eyes off me once as I reached into my bag and grabbed my inhaler the second I heard the wheeze in my throat. I closed my eyes and focused on taking my medicine.
“Slow breaths,” Risk urged. “That’s it, baby. Slow.”
The attack never had a leg to stand on, so when I felt the threat of it pass by, I relaxed. I held my inhaler in my hand, opened my eyes and looked back up at my boyfriend.
“I can’t go to America.”
“Not on this trip,” he said. “I know that. This is just a three-day thing to see if what they’re offerin’ is the real deal. We’ll have to have a solicitor look over whatever contract they give us before we sign anythin’, but—”
“Risk, no.” I shook my head. “I can’t go to America. Not now, not ever.”
Risk’s whole body seemed to tense.
“What?”
“My mum’s disease is only startin’ and it is progressive. That means she’s goin’ to get really sick over time and she’ll need me. I can’t go to America while that is happening.”
Risk blinked repeatedly. “But . . . But she lives with Michael now and he’s a doctor.”
“So?” I said. “Just because she lives with her boyfriend doesn’t mean she won’t need me. D’you understand how seriously ill she is? People think this disease is just someone forgetting things here and there, but it’s not. It’s cruel and it’s horrible and it’s going to erase her, Risk. It robs someone of themselves piece by piece over time until basic functions are a challenge. I can’t leave her when she needs me the most, Risk. I won’t. She’s my mum.”
Over the past week I had educated myself in my mother’s disease and the things I learned utterly devastated me. When I thought of the times my mum would misplace something, I would tease her over it. I would constantly joke and tell her that she would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her shoulders. All those jokes and the harmless teasing about how forgetful she was were no longer funny in any way, shape or form. Forgetfulness was one tiny part of something much bigger that my sweet mother was now dealing with. This illness would rob me of her over time and I would be able to do nothing but stand by and watch as it happened.