“B-but –”
“He’s breathing, Blue. I checked.”
My watery eyes run over his face. Frantically. Crazily. Like I can’t get enough of his sharp, angled features. Like I’ll never get enough.
“J-just bring him back. Please,” I whisper, water clogging my eyes and my throat.
His nostrils flare as he studies my features, and he nods. “You stay where you are.”
I nod back.
He lets me go, and gets to work.
His hands pat the ground, as if looking for something under the leaves. A few pats later, he finds it.
It’s a long thick root, buried under the fallen foliage, connected to a huge tree that I didn’t even notice until now. The root is thick and sturdy and looks to be going down into the hole.
As Zach grips it, probably trying to use it as a rope, I hear thudding footsteps approaching.
Tina’s kneeling beside me. “Are you okay? Did we find him?”
“Yeah. He’s in there.” I motion with my chin.
Zach turns his focus on Tina. “I want you to go and get me a rope. And bring a staff member back with you.”
Nodding, Tina squeezes my shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
With that, she whirls around and runs back.
Using the root, Zach lowers himself into the hole, and I crawl over to the edge, looking down. Art’s still unconscious and my body starts shaking.
Oh God.
How did I fuck up so bad? I’m never babysitting him again. Ever.
But then, I watch Art’s tiny chest move. Up and down. In a rhythm.
He’s breathing.
Thank God.
Just like Zach said.
Who’s almost at the end of the hanging, sturdy root, which only goes down midway. Before I can stop myself, I call out, “Be careful.”
Zach looks up at my words and I bite my lip.
I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, it’s a little too personal and nice. I’m supposed to hate him, right?
But I just thought… I had the right to say it.
And I’m not taking it back.
“Please,” I say, crouched on my hands and knees, peeking down at him, with sweaty hair curtained around my flushed face.
His dark eyes don’t give anything away but he jerks out a nod. Then he looks down and lets go of his purchase.
I suck in a breath when he lands on the ground, by Art’s feet. It was smooth and effortless.
He kneels beside Art and my voice breaks as I ask, “Is he okay?”
Zach picks Art up in his arms. That’s effortless, too. And smooth and gentle as he cradles his head.
I couldn’t stop crying, even if I wanted to; I don’t want to.
I don’t want to stop crying because everything is swollen inside of me, raw and shaken up. And Zach’s entire hand covers Art’s head as he probably looks for an injury. He pats Art’s head slowly, almost like a caress and I have to dig my nails into the ground to keep steady.
Still staring at Art with a careful frown, Zach says, “He’s fine. He’s got a bump on the back of his head. But he’s gonna be okay.”
I press a fist on my mouth to stop all the sobs from coming out.
“Are y-you okay?” I ask, and the way Zach’s head jerks up makes me believe that it was the wrong thing to say.
Fuck it.
I’m not afraid of him. What am I right now is super emotional and almost unhinged. I don’t care if my concern is such a suffering to him.
Zach’s answer is a black frown and silence.
Soon, Tina’s back with the rope and she’s brought a couple other staff members, including Ryan, with her.
“Where’s Zach?” she asks as she stops beside me.
“Down there.”
Ryan kneels on my other side, concern evident on his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
In a terse tone, Zach instructs Ryan and the others to throw him the rope and explains what to do. Five minutes later, he’s out and Art’s in my arms.
“Oh, Art, I’m so so sorry.” I hug him, smelling his hair, kissing his forehead.
I feel the bump on the back of his head and realize that he needs a doctor. I’ve been so focused on him getting out, I haven’t even wondered how long he was in there.
“We need to go to the hospital,” I tell the group huddled beside me.
“Yeah, I’ll get the car ready, let’s go,” Ryan says, getting up on his feet.
“Someone needs to tell Doris,” one of the staff members says.
Cradling Art, I manage to stand, as well.
Doris. Yup. Someone needs to tell her how badly I fucked up when I was supposed to watch her grandkid.
And let’s not forget the car.
Tina goes to say something, probably about my one-year-old phobia of cars, but I shake my head once to tell her to shut up.
I can handle it.
Car’s the perfect solution. How else would we get there? Bus isn’t an option. It’ll take way longer to get there and Art needs the medical attention now.
Ryan cradles my cheek in that gentle way of his. “Hey, everything is going to be fine. It wasn’t your fault. These things happen. Art’s going to be fine.”
I squeeze Art’s shoulders, smooshing him to my chest, and nod. “Yeah, okay, thanks. Let’s –”
“I’ve called the doctor. He’ll be here in a few.” Zach’s voice breaks through my panicky thoughts.
He’s standing away from the group and I watch his eyes as they look at where Ryan is touching me. “No need to go anywhere.” Then he orders a staff member, “And get someone to close up that hole.”
With that, he turns away, leaving.
There are leaves clinging to his jeans, his boots, mud caked on the sleeves of his shirt, even his elbows and arms.
He’s retreating, going away, after saving Art and even me. With Art in my arms, heavy and unconscious, I go after him.
“Wait. Zach.”
He comes to a pause but doesn’t turn around. I keep going until I come to stand before him. Somehow, he got a little dirt on the side of his jaw, too. I have a very strong, potent urge to reach up and wipe it off.
“What?” he bites out.
“I… How did you know about the hole? How did you know Art could be down there?”
The sun doesn’t move and neither does the air. It’s all still and hot but oddly, Zach’s face, his entire body turns shadowed.
Darkness slashes his features, his demeanor, like last night when he sat in that chair of his, with the entire galaxy at his back.
“Zach –”
His gruff words cut me off. “Because I’ve been down there.”
At first I think I haven’t heard him clearly. But when the rigid look of his face doesn’t go away, I realize that I have.
I have heard him clearly.
Clutching Art to my chest even tighter, I ask, “When?”
He clamps his jaw before saying, “A long time ago.”
And then, he spins around and leaves.
I was ten when I fell into that hole.
By then, I’d stopped making silly cards or trying to improve myself or be better. Just so they’d love me back.
By then, I’d learned to sneak out of the main house and roam free on the grounds. I had an entire plan set up to run away as soon as I figured out how to make money and save up enough to survive on my own. Although the way it came about – me, moving out – wasn’t how I expected it to be.
I was down in the hole for hours. For the entire night, actually.
I remember trying to get out on my own, grabbing onto the roots and heaving myself up. I also remember falling on my ass a lot.
When I got tired, I remember lying there and watching the sky. I thought no one would ever find me. No one would even bother to look, definitely not my parents.
When I stopped trying to win their approval, they stopped bothering themselves with me. They handed me over to nannies, tutors, maids, whoever they could find to pawn their kid off to. They paid them enough money not to open their mouths about my disability.
My dad didn’t want the world to know that his son was anything less than perfect. And neither did he want to waste his time on an imperfect kid.
And my mom? Well, my mom never wanted a kid to begin with. She didn’t want anything to interfere with her parties and her carefree, rich life. Ironically, it was my dad who wanted a child. So when my mom gave him an imperfect one, she did everything she could to make up for the fact, including neglecting said child.
I remember wanting to cry down in that hole. Crying for my mom, my dad, even. I remember making deals with God that I’d try harder. I wouldn’t run my tutors off. I’d spend time practicing lessons. I wouldn’t be deliberately difficult and stir up shit.
Just get me out of this hole.
But then, I also remember stopping myself and getting angry. I thought, why the fuck should I try? Nothing is ever good enough for them. No matter how much I practiced, my dad would find a flaw and bash me over it.
I went to sleep, debating and exhausted.
It was Nora who found me the next day. She’d sent out a search party when she went into my room to wake me up for school.
For two days I was in bed; I’d sprained my ankle. And for two days, Maggie and Nora were the ones who took care of me.
When they told my parents, my dad’s reaction was to pretend it never happened. And my mom’s reaction was to say, “Why do you keep making waves, Zach? Why can’t you be a good, quiet boy? You’ve always made things difficult for me.”
Yeah, Mom. I was lying in a fucking hole the entire night and things are difficult for you.
I think she was counting on me falling to my death or something. Although she’d never say anything crass like that, but disappointment was pretty fucking clear on her face.
Yeah, I’m a huge fucking disappointment. For everyone.
Not for her, though.
Blue never acted disappointed in me because she’s always assumed the worst. She’s always looked at me with disgust and hate.
It’s comforting. Familiar. It’s how everyone in my life has looked at me, if we count out Nora and Maggie. But then, they’re getting paid, aren’t they, to be nice to me.