Nick & Bailey

65. Bailey

The problem with "tomorrow" is that I don't get to see Nick very much. He only has a half day of classes but then he has a six hour shift at work. He seems distracted when I give him a kiss before he leaves in the morning.

"What are you going to eat all day? I don't have anything here," he asks, worried.

Nick's campus is bigger than mine, so he won't have time to come back here between classes like I did for him. I assured him I would be fine, but he won't let it go for some reason. He did the same thing last week—always making sure I was eating all my meals. I never noticed this obsession before.

When Nick returns to the room shortly after dusk, I am admittedly going a little stir crazy. "So what'd you do all day?" He asks.

"I read, and read, and read some more. I walked down to the drugstore to get some snacks. Pete came back for awhile and typed something on his computer and then left to meet Candace at the library or something."

"Sorry it's so boring here," Nick says as he throws his backpack down and sits on the bed. He's trying not to show it, but his eyes are telling me just how tired he is from his long day.

I immediately climb onto his lap. "I wouldn't say it was boring. I'm just not used to being by myself quite so much. I missed you." I nuzzle into his neck. "Did you miss me?"

"You know I did," he whispers, moving his hand up my leg. "How long ago did he leave?"

I sigh, disappointed. "It's been at least a couple of hours. They'll probably be back soon."

"I'm willing to risk it, if you are." He brings his lips to mine, and I moan into our kiss, running my hands through his hair...but then I pull away.

"We can't, Nick, no matter how much I want to. How would you like to walk in on that?"

He groans. "Fine. Have you eaten recently?"

"Yes. And I got some stuff at the store for you to eat, too. But if you want to go to the dining hall, that's fine. I don't care."

"I wish you wouldn't buy food for me. It's not fair. I can't repay you."

I stand up in front of him and place both my hands on his shoulders. "Nick, I still have money left over from my job this summer, plus my parents send me a little spending money every month. They would be thrilled to know I was spending it on you."

He wraps his hands around and rests them on the back of thighs, looking up at me. "You mean if they knew you were here?"

"Well yeah, obviously." Now is the time. I should ask him about us. I should tell him that I want to tell my parents that I'm here. But I know Nick doesn't. Ian called the other day, and the speed with which Nick silenced it told me that he is not ready.

So, I stay true to my coward self. "So what is with this fascination of my eating habits, by the way? You not only texted me about it a few times today, but you also asked me practically as soon as you walked in the door."

"I guess I don't know." But when he looks away, I see a change, a shift, into deeper territory.

"Tell me, Nick." Please. Please open up to me. Please tell me something.

To my surprise, he does.

"I guess I was I just thinking about this time when I was around eight. My mom had just started dating Ken and was really excited about it. It was all she talked about. Anyway, they had planned a weekend getaway, just the two of them. The only problem was that she had forgotten to tell me she was leaving, or plan for it. I knew Ken didn't like me, even then, so maybe she thought it would be a buzzkill to remind him that she had responsibilities. It was just a coincidence that I happened to see her loading our car in the driveway when I got home from school. All she said was 'I'll be back in a few days' through her window and drove off."

I'm in stunned silence, watching him as he struggles to relive what must be a painful memory. "I walked in the house and soon figured out that she hadn't gone grocery shopping for the week like she usually did on Fridays. I knew she got paid that day, but I guess she didn't have time. All we had was two cans of green beans, a little ketchup and expired milk. I didn't know how long she'd be gone, but I knew I had to conserve them. But, considering the fact that I was eight fucking years old, I went through a whole can the first night. And I was terrified. She said she would come back. But what if she didn't? I didn't know what I would do.

"By the time she did come home Sunday, I was so hungry, more hungry than I ever want to be again. It took away all of my fear, and all of my stress that she wouldn't be back. All I wanted was for the gnawing ache that had consumed me to go away.

"I expected her to come rushing in, suddenly realizing what she had done and apologize, maybe even have some McDonald's with her or something. I don't know. But she didn't. She didn't even fucking notice that I was so weak, I could barely keep my eyes open as she told me story after story about what a great fucking time she had. I was so shocked, I was speechless. I couldn't believe this was my mother. The person who was supposed to take care of me just simply didn't. That was the worst part. I trusted her. Society trusted her to take care of me, and she didn't care."

"Nick, why didn't you call the cops? Or tell someone? You had to know that what she did wasn't right."

"You wouldn't understand, Bailey. You couldn't. Yes, I knew she should not have left me by myself with no food. Yes, I knew that I could call the cops if I wanted to. But, despite her flaws, despite her all-consuming selfishness—she was my mom, and she was all I had."

I nod. He's right. I can't understand. My mom and dad would move heaven and earth for Ian or I.

"She was pregnant and married shortly after that, so it never happened again. But I guess ever since then, if I'm being entrusted to take care of someone—even in a small way—I don't take that responsibility lightly. I want to take care of you."

I place both of my hands on Nick's cheeks and turn his face back up to me. My heart aches for that little boy who felt so alone and so afraid. I want to go back in time and save him, or simply tell him that better days are ahead. Just when I thought I couldn't hate his mom any more—now I'm afraid what will happen if I ever see her again.

I lean down, bringing my mouth to his. I don't know what he needs from me right now, but I want to take his pain away. I slowly lick his lips. He gladly accepts my kiss and returns his own. His hands slide up my body as he stands up until they are in my hair. As our tongues begin their familiar dance, I feel connected to him in a way I haven't before. He opened up to me when he didn't have to. I feel...honored, in a way.

"Bailey..." he says when we part to breathe, resting his forehead against mine.

"Yes...?"

"Thank you for being here."

"Always."