Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Instantly, there came a sweet smile from the maternal-looking woman before she thanked me in a calm, reassuring tone.
“Everyone’s so chill here,” Vanya told me. “It always freaks me out.”
I had nothing to say to him. The fact that Vanya could comment on this as if another cycle of rehab was normal made me bristle with irritation. But since that wouldn’t help at all, I stayed quiet. I felt bad about yelling at him earlier. It was useless to get mad at him; anger didn’t move him at all. Neither did encouragement or tenderness. The only thing Vanya truly cared about was his next fix. Addiction was a disease. You didn’t rage at sick people; you got them help. So again, that was what I was doing.
After several minutes, Vanya cleared his throat. “You must’ve been horrified when you saw me on my knees in that room,” he whispered, having trouble getting out the words.
I exhaled sharply. “I was horrified that the drugs would make you degrade yourself like that,” I said hoarsely, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. I hated how weak he was. How his will was nonexistent, how very frail and lacking in self-worth he had become with every passing year. In the beginning, when Vanya’s addictions were new, I had been full of sympathy, ready, willing, and able to help. Now, as I prepared to say the same words to a new counselor and hear, again, about the importance of sticking with a program and about sponsors and meetings…try as I might, I couldn’t dredge up even the smallest amount of compassion.
The idea that anything or anyone would ever, could ever, have the kind of control over me that drugs had over Vanya was simply too alien to contemplate. It was, in fact, the worst thing I could imagine until tonight. Now, thinking of all the horrors that could have befallen Vanya’s sweet little sister was the new nightmare.
“Maks?”
“It killed me to know that you allowed your situation to impact Nara. You knew she was there, and you knew she’d never leave you.”
“I—”
“You did. You knew. And you would have never forgiven yourself if something happened that couldn’t be undone, but the blowjobs you were giving? I don’t give a crap about that.”
Vanya was quiet for a moment and then slowly, like my words had just sunk into his brain, looked up at me. “What?”
“If you’re gay, be gay. If you’re bi or whatever else, I couldn’t care less because it has zero to do with me. What I do care about is that suddenly you’re dragging innocent people into the dangerous end of the pool with you. It used to be we’d just have to deal with the fallout, with finding you passed out in some hotel room somewhere, but now I’m getting calls from your sister, and she’s following you around to try and keep you safe, and—” I noticed then that Vanya was staring at me like I’d grown another head, and the thought came fast that my cousin wasn’t taking me, or the situation we found themselves in, seriously. “Are you listening to me?”
“I am.”
“Because it doesn’t look like you’re listening or that you give a shit.”
“I do. I really do, I swear to God,” he urged plaintively, sounding serious and truthful, trying to get me to hear him. “I wanna change.”
“Then fix yourself, Vanya,” I stressed, wishing I could simply will my cousin into submission or shake him hard enough and long enough to imbue him with some common sense. I mean, think about it: I’m the one getting shot at. I’m the one people try and kill, not you, so if I outlive you, how utterly ridiculous is that going to be?”
Vanya nodded as though in a trance.
“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?” I yelled, close to tearing his head off, so sick of the festering weakness in him, I could puke.
“I just… In the room with Burian and the others, you made it sound like…”
“What? What did I make it sound like?”
“You made it sound like you cared that I’m gay!” he shouted back, leaping up and pacing the room before rounding on me. “You made it sound like you gave a shit about that, but you never have before so—”
“No,” I said flatly, staring holes through him. “I don’t care.”
“Then what the fuck was all that?” He was almost in tears and had to suck in his breath to beat back the deluge, and I saw it then, how hard he was fighting to keep himself together.
“That was about Burian Petrov’s father.” I took a breath, calming quickly, and Vanya followed my lead, taking a breath and sinking down into the chair across from me, a large coffee table separating us. “I’ve met the man, and along with being a racist and misogynist, he’s a homophobic prick as well.”