#47

The trembling body calmed down shortly after. As the stiff, tense body relaxed, Amber helped Tennessee lie on his side. Then, feeling a dull pain, he looked down at his hand.

From the knuckles to the palm, everything was swollen red. His fingers were definitely broken. Not that it mattered, since fingers on the other hand were already broken. How was he going to explain this to Tennessee?

Covering Tennessee with a blanket, Amber wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

Amber still couldn’t bring himself to tell Tennessee about these abnormal behaviors. He couldn’t tell anyone. Considering that Tennessee was currently in a hospital, it was ironic.

For Tennessee’s sake, the right thing to do was to tell a doctor. He needed tests, counseling, or treatment, but what would happen after that? Amber felt that if Tennessee found out the truth, he might disappear again.

The closer they became, the more Tennessee grew wary. If Amber accidentally stepped on his shadow, he would startle and vanish.

Amber rested his chin on the bed and lowered his eyes. Tennessee was breathing rhythmically. He knew he was being selfish, but Amber was afraid. He was so afraid that he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

The mere thought was terrible. Tennessee probably couldn’t imagine at all what Amber’s last two years had been like. Tennessee probably lived well, whenever and wherever.

What if I’m abandoned again? He didn’t have the confidence to stay alive properly.

Amber thought Tennessee wouldn’t know at all. He might know the vague waiting and fatigue, but he wouldn’t know the reality of it.

A good family, a good school, good friends. Tennessee sometimes spoke as if a perfect environment created a perfect life. As if the presence of Elizabeth and David could instantly turn Amber’s life into something dazzling and flawless. Every time he acted as if everything was solved because of the adoptive parents, Amber had to suppress the urge to scream. He wanted to shout that Tennessee knew nothing.

For the sake of such a life, Amber needed him. He didn’t care if he had to go back into that filthy little room in Huston. As long as he was by Tennessee’s side.

Why wouldn’t he understand?

The reason Amber had struggled to survive for two years was a kind of excuse and justification. It was a shred of respect for his own life. Now, he had reached his limit. Now, there was no turning back.

He hated that Tennessee was suffering, but the fact that Tennessee relied on him—or that he was Tennessee’s only person—gave him a terrible sense of pleasure. He’d rather Tennessee be more…

Burying his face in his palms, Amber swallowed the rushing words of sorrow and anger.

Sometimes, he found the Tennessee who made him this way—no, he found himself—disgusting.

* * *

Tennessee’s gaze fell on Amber’s two hands. Amber laughed awkwardly and hid them. It was a meaningless action.

If he had questioned him, Amber would have made an excuse, but Tennessee just stared at his hands in silence. Last time it was just a crack, but this time was different. As expected, three fingers were snapped cleanly in a row. They were broken very neatly. The sight of his fingers on the X-ray was so cleanly severed that even Amber had been impressed.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is that so?”

His tone suggested he was waiting to see what kind of lie Amber would tell. Amber decided to sell out his family.

“I got hurt while playing with Annie and Cody.”

He said he got hurt while riding a dirt bike. At those words, Tennessee merely quirked an eyebrow with an expressionless face. He felt sorry for the siblings he’d used as a shield, but Tennessee was the priority.

“I see.”

That’s a rushed lie, his tone seemed to say.

Could it be PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)? Amber sank into thought while reading the books he had borrowed in bulk from the library. He considered asking Elizabeth. But there was a chance it would reach Tennessee’s ears, and above all, Elizabeth was a pediatrician.

They say over ten million people in the United States suffer from PTSD. Perhaps because of this, information was easy to find. There were even questionnaires for self-diagnosis. There were fewer than twenty questions, but he didn’t think he could get Tennessee to fill it out without him knowing. Nor could he just shove it in his face.

Should I tell the attending physician and ask for cooperation? Amber’s mind became cluttered with all sorts of thoughts. Stuffing the books into his bag, Amber headed toward the hospital out of habit.

At this point, home felt awkward. The hospital room where Tennessee was waiting. Despite the crowds, the noise, and an atmosphere he could never get used to, Amber liked it there.

Amber glanced at the clock. Tennessee would have just finished lunch.

[What did you eat?]

Amber sent the text while starting the engine.

After being hospitalized, Tennessee got a new phone. It wasn’t because of the accident.

The lifespan of the flip phone Tennessee had been carrying—which looked like a slightly oversized pebble—was truly tenacious. It had remained intact despite the massive accident. It was in such good condition that the manufacturer would have put it in an advertisement if they had known. It was an object that wouldn’t have been out of place as a weapon instead of a brick.

However, Amber had told him to throw away “that stupid old-age refrigerator” immediately. He didn’t care if Tennessee used a Nokia, an Apple, or a BlackBerry, but after hearing that he didn’t reply to messages because it was “inconvenient,” Amber couldn’t put it politely.

No wonder he never replied to texts and only answered calls.

Right then and there, Amber bought him a smartphone as a gift. The moment Tennessee received the smartphone box, a memory from the past flashed through both of their minds. They looked at each other for a long while and shared a dry laugh. It was a peculiar empathy that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

[Whatever they gave me]

To say he ate “whatever they gave him” in response to what he ate. Without realizing it, the corners of Amber’s mouth curled up, and he moved his fingers while stopped at a red light.

[Should I buy you something?]

[Beer]

[ 🙁 ]

[Cigarettes]

[ 🙁 ]

[If you’re not going to buy them, why did you ask?]

[I’ll buy coffee instead. I’ll be there soon 🙂 ]

Tennessee, who was in a state of smoking cessation—partly forced, and about a quarter voluntary—had been drinking coffee often lately. Caffeine wasn’t exactly good, but everyone agreed that coffee was better than cigarettes.

Setting the phone down, Amber turned the steering wheel smoothly. He had the sound on, but the phone remained silent. Tennessee was naturally a man of few words. His calls and texts were no different.

After about ten minutes of driving, a message alert rang. Amber glanced at the screen. It was Tennessee.

[Enchilada.]

Leaking a silly smile, Amber stared at the screen for a long time. He started the car because impatient people were honking their horns, but the smile didn’t fade. It felt as if Tennessee were speaking to him right beside him.

[I’ll stop by Jalisco before I come.]

Enchiladas were Tennessee’s favorite Mexican food. He liked the enchiladas and enchilada casseroles sold at restaurants called Jalisco and El Paso, and he especially enjoyed the Mexican food Amber made for him. This was true even though Mexican cuisine was salty and stimulating, contrary to his usual taste. Usually, he ate at a constant speed and took only the appropriate amount of medicine, but in the case of enchiladas, his fork moved strangely faster and he ate more. Anyone else would have never noticed this subtle difference in Tennessee’s behavior.

As time passed, he felt as if he were getting to know him one step at a time.

Having bought an enchilada combo, a black coffee, and a Dr Pepper, Amber walked down the hallway whistling. The medical staff who recognized him greeted him lightly. His steps were light. He looked so happy that everyone he encountered asked him what had happened.

“The weather is just nice.”

At Amber’s words, people looked up at the sky, which seemed to be churning today as if lightning were about to strike at any moment. Rumble— right on cue, lightning actually struck.

“The weather looks like a gremlin is about to jump out from beyond the window, doesn’t it?”

The reason people couldn’t actually make such a remark was that Amber looked far too happy.

Enchiladas. How cute. Amber crossed the hallway with that thought. The people looking outside with bewildered faces, wondering if the weather was actually “good,” didn’t even register in Amber’s sight.

Cute, Tennessee. Cool, cute, and charming. Perfect.

However, before he could fully savor Tennessee’s “cuteness,” the smile vanished from Amber’s lips.

Amber frowned upon seeing the bodyguards standing in front of the hospital room.

They were people he had seen before. Amber recalled that blond brat.

“Would you like a cup of tea? Oh, that’s lovely!” Amber’s face immediately twisted into a look of disgust as he maliciously mimicked the British accent. Whether the boy was a noble or royalty of England, to Amber, he was nothing more than an unwelcome guest. That kid needed to realize that he was being a nuisance and making unreasonable demands. …Amber shook his head vigorously as he reflexively recalled his own past self.

Amber glared at the bodyguards with irritation and opened the door. If they had dared to stop him, he had intended to shove the hot enchiladas down their throats. It wasn’t the bodyguards’ fault, per se, but the whole group—including that boy—was just unpleasant. Perhaps it was because they were the ones trying to take Tennessee away, while Amber was the one protecting him. Amber let out a sigh.

Sure enough, that “distinguished guest” was in the room. Amber spoke up, cutting off the young master who was in the middle of insistently urging something. Behind the boy stood an adult with a look of discomfort that anyone could see. He looked like a highly-paid nanny. Unlucky bastards.