[AustinCarlile] Live Forever

[AustinCarlile] Live Forever [ChapterThirtyOne]

Rubbing my sweaty palms across the fabric of my jeans, I bite down on my lower lip, running a hand through my hair, realizing that today’s the day, we’re in Maryland, we’re here, and Austin took the entire day off to meet my family. He knows nothing, I haven’t told him anything about my family, and in return I haven’t asked him anything, and I pray that he doesn’t think it’s because I'm uninterested, but I can’t ask him questions because it opens the conversation up for me to talk about my family, and I didn’t want to do that.

Closing the door to the car, the one that my next door neighbor owns, it’s hers, she came to the venue, and instead of spending time with her I took her car, yet she didn’t care, she knows who I'm going to see, she knew since the beginning, and I didn’t tell her, but the conversations in the backyard during the summer were enough to tell her what happened. He glances at me, raising an eyebrow as he slowly shuts the door, his eyes leaving mine to scan the building, the block letters that spell out BALTIMORE ULTIMATE REHABILITATION and the size that’s so overwhelming and so disheartening because everyone who drives past knows that each room is taken.

Shakily running a hand through my hair, I shove the keys into the back pocket of my jeans, biting down on my lower lip as I watch as he opens his mouth to ask a question only to shut it quickly, like he either doesn’t want to know or doesn’t know how to ask. “Um, we’re, yeah.” Without saying another word, keeping my head down and my eyes on the pavement, I maneuver my way out of the parking lot, I can hear Austin following behind me, jogging to reach me, and suddenly there’s a hand holding mine.

Tilting my head to the side and looking up at him, I feel all the blood drain from my face, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “You do know that you can’t expect anything from him, right, Dev? You hear all these wonderful stories about him being a hero and listening to people’s stories, but you have to realize he doesn’t see those stories. You're showing him your story. If he doesn’t know how to deal with your story, he’s not worth any more pages.” I want him to be able to handle my story, my brother’s story, my mom’s story, my family’s story, I want him to handle it and be okay with all of this, but the last guy wasn’t, he wasn’t even close to okay with it, and I can’t imagine what it would be like if Austin reacted the same way.

His hand is so warm, it’s so comforting, and I know that his mind is racing with questions, filling with curiosity, but I feel like I can’t breathe, and I'm not going to answer his questions, they're not my questions to answer, I don’t want to answer them. Pushing the door of the building open, I inhale slowly, sucking in as much air as I possibly can, and I rub my free hand on my shirt, walking over to the desk, tugging Austin along.

With wide eyes, his eyes dart around the large, open room, noticing the couches and the tables in the middle of it, the numerous hallways that branch off of this room, the desk in the front with three women sitting behind it, the doctors and nurses and therapists walking around in their lab coats. This was my home, for so long, just like it will be his until we know that he can live outside these walls, and it’s my mother’s home, in her cot that was brought in by her request, because originally no one was allowed when the night came.

“Devon,” Jane cocks her head to the side, a wide smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and she stands up from her spot on her office chair, and Austin looks at me as I walk over to her, dragging him along with me. “It’s been a while since you’ve been here. How’s the tour going? Adam won’t stop talking about how you’re headlining it.” I knew that he talked about me, about the band, about us touring, but I didn’t know that everyone heard his stories, and I can almost feel Austin’s curiosity as his grip on my hand tightens, and in response to the pain I bite down on my lower lip.

Forcing a smile, I begin to tap my foot against the wooden floor, feel the pit in my stomach grow and I just want to leave, to tell him this was all a joke and no one I know really lives here, or goes here, that I don’t know any of these people. “Hey, Jane, it has been a long time, too long. And it’s okay, I’d rather be here, but I have to make money, so it’s worth it.” The way I said that I don’t know how he’ll process it, but there’s only one way to understand it, and it’s that I’d much rather be here with my brother and my mother than touring the world.

Shuffling around the papers on the desk, searching for the visitor passes, she finally notices that there’s someone with me, someone she’s never seen before, which means he didn’t know Adam before the accident, and the last time I brought a guy who never knew Adam it left with him leaving and me not walking him out. “Oh, where are my manners. I'm Jane. I’ve known Devon for almost three years now. He’s in his room. Just knock before you go in because Michelle is there with him.”

Tilting his head to the side, Austin tightens his grip on my hand, not enough to cause me pain, but enough to let me know that whatever happens, he’s not leaving. Not knowing what to say, what to do, I run my free hand through my hair, the anxiety racing through my veins, taking over my mind, and I lift one of my shoulders, recalling all the times I would pull a single strand of my hair out one by one, it was my cutting, my drugs, my alcohol, it was something I could hide when I tugged at the hair underneath, it was soothing in a horrifying way.

“Um, this is Austin. We met on the tour. He’s a singer for a band.” It’s not fair for me to block Jane out, not when I’ve known her for almost three years, like she’s said, and it’s not fair because she’s like family, all the workers here are like family, we know all of them, we’ve been here for that long. Most patients get a few months here, sometimes more, and it’s rare that the patient lives here, like my brother does, but eventually we want him to move out of here, to live in a house, to meet a woman who will love him even with his handicaps, because eventually he’s going to be able to talk fluidly and he’s going to relearn everything he needs to know.

Smiling, she extends her hand out over the desk, and Austin forces a smile onto his lips, reaching his arm out and shaking her hand in his, quickly retracting it. “We’re, uh, going to go see them. I’ll stop by before we leave to catch up.” He could either be okay with all of this, with how I'm telling him, with how I didn’t tell him anything before this, or he could react the opposite way, he could storm off like the last guy. I can’t imagine him walking away, I mean I can, that’s all I'm imagining him doing right now, but I don’t want him to, I want him to form a relationship with Adam and I want my mom to like him and I want everything to go well.

And the only way I know how to do that is to let Adam tell the story of his accident himself.