35. Johnny

Not wanting to keep the good news from Mama—and since I need to see her expression in person when we tell her—Kurt and I drive up to Fresno the following morning, bringing a few late Christmas gifts with us. And Lady, of course, even though that means lots of pit stops, as well as cleaning up once when she gets carsick.

As we head up the interstate, I'm excited to see Mama, like I always am, but that doesn't keep my own stomach from clenching as I think about the other thing I have planned for this visit. Kurt notices, like he always does, and asks me what's wrong. He puts a warm hand on my thigh, and that helps me get my words going. "I'm troubled," I say.

Kurt tilts his head. "You are? Why? This is what you've wanted—your mom could be completely healthy again soon."

"Yeah, but …" I blow out a breath. "I have to tell her what's going on with me."

"You mean about your mental health issues?" Kurt asks.

I nod. "Christian said I needed to fess up to Mama. Well, she didn't say it that way, but she said I should be honest, even if it's hard. But … it's gonna upset her. Disappoint her. And that's gonna hurt, 'cause I never want to make her sad." My throat closes up.

He gives me a little squeeze. "Babe, she loves you as much as you love her, if not more. She'll want to know what's really going on with you."

"It just sucks to have to bring it up. I wanna let it be. Why ruin Christmas? Or New Year's. The holidays."

"There's no law that says you have to tell her, but I think it's a good idea. She should know. You're not ruining a holiday by being honest."

I know he's right, even though thinking about making my mama cry has me wanting to turn the car around and drive in the opposite direction until we run out of road.

Mama's happy to see us, of course, and she takes to Lady right away. My good girl somehow knows to be extra gentle with her, and soon we're all sitting in the living room, Lady curled up on her lap, Kurt next to me. Mama looks about the same as always—frail but smiling. Trying hard. Fierce. May Ella's fussing in the kitchen.

We've exchanged presents. Mama gave me a new brass belt buckle the size of Montana with running horses on it, which I love, and she gave Kurt a little book of my baby photos, which got him all melty. Kurt and I gave her a new bathrobe and slippers and May Ella sheet music.

"I can't get over what a treat it is to see you both again so soon," Mama says. "I hope you had a good Christmas with Kurt's family."

Kurt looks at me, and I nod. "We did," he says. "It was the best Christmas I can remember, because I had him to share it with. But then yesterday we found out about one more big present—and it's for you. My mom's a match."

Mama turns her head slowly between Kurt and me. "A ma— Are you serious?"

"Oh, Mama, that's wonderful!" May Ella says, and a tear slides down her face. I reach over and hold her hand.

"You really hadn't heard?" Kurt asks Mama. "I asked my mom not to call you and spill the beans, but she was pretty excited, so I wasn't sure."

Mama shakes her head. "Not a peep since the doctors contacted me to get permission to share whatever medical information. As if I could have sat here with y'all and not said, if I knew! You two boys! Between you sorting out that nonsense with the insurance company and now this, it's … I don't know what to say." She dabs at her eyes with a tissue. "Come here and hug me. I am truly blessed."

I wrap my arms around her, trying not to think about how very tiny she is, and Kurt hugs her gently, too, and then we settle back down on the couch. "It's good to see you happy." I smile, but it feels forced. Tell her the bad stuff, too, Johnny.

"A new kidney," Mama whispers. "Finally. It really is a Christmas miracle."

"We have another surprise," Kurt says. "This one's for you," he tells May Ella. He digs in his pocket and then hands her a folded piece of paper. "This is Julian Hill's phone number. Do you know who he is? He asked me to ask you to give him a call so you could play the violin for him. Maybe you can do a video call at first, and then if things work out you could take a road trip and visit him in LA. He's writing his next album and mentioned that he wants to have violins on it, so I thought of you."

May Ella's eyes are wide as dinner plates, and she's holding the piece of paper like it's a diamond necklace. "You're joking," she says in a harsh whisper.

I shake my head. "No, he ain't. He's friends with Jules. Nice guy. Likes dogs."

May Ella flushes. "I cannot believe we're talking about me playing for Julian Hill. Julian Hill the pop star. Who used to be in the boy band I listened to when I was a teen."

I tilt my head. "I told Jules I couldn't name any of his music, but I thought you might've listened to it. Guess that was correct."

"Oh my dear Lord in heaven," May Ella says. "This is too much."

"So you'll call him?" Kurt asks.

"Yessir," she whispers. "Right away. Though why would he want to listen to me, when he could get any violinist he wanted? Ones who're actually trained."

"Formal training isn't everything," Kurt says. "I heard you play, and I know he's going to love your passion. He likes keeping his inspiration down-to-earth. He used one of my paintings for an album cover, and I'm not exactly Van Gogh."

May Ella is shining as bright as a new penny, and I don't want to spoil this moment. But Christian's right—I gotta face this and get it out of my system. It's gonna eat me alive if I don't.

"It's all so wonderful," Mama says.

Kurt catches my eye, and he gives me a nod like he knows what I'm thinking.

That man. Having his encouragement is everything.

"Mama, I have to tell you a few things that aren't so wonderful."

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry to be bringing this up now, but there really ain't no good or right time to do it, so …" I just go for it. "I've been struggling lately. Mentally, I mean. A while back, I had a bad thing happen at work—I got assaulted."

Mama's face drops, and she reaches out to me. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Johnny. Are you okay?"

"Of course," I say automatically, and then, "I mean, physically I'm fine. But no, I'm … I'm not okay." I clear my throat. "The assault sent me into a pretty bad mental state, for a lot of reasons. I felt weak and ashamed. And I couldn't get work, so I couldn't help you when you were denied for the transplant that last time."

She watches me carefully but doesn't say anything. May Ella's doing the same.

Might as well get it all over with.

"I decided to kill myself, Mama, so you could get the money from my life insurance and use it for the medical stuff."

Mama gasps in a breath so sharp I worry, and her hand flies to her mouth. Her forehead wrinkles, and she starts to cry. "Oh, Johnny. No. Baby, no."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you. But yeah, that was my plan. I wrote you a note. I even wrote an obituary. I'd found a way to get you a kidney, from a place where they buy them from people. It wasn't necessarily aboveboard, and you would've had to go outta the country. They told me they could find a match—they have lists of people who are willing to sell their kidneys for the right price, I guess. It seemed like the only way to help you."

"John H. Haskell, there's always another way." She starts scolding me, and for some reason, her anger makes me feel better. "I can't believe … My goodness, son. I don't know what to say."

"Johnny, I'm so sorry you felt so bad," May Ella says. "I'd had similar thoughts—at least about trying to get her the money. I don't have life insurance, but I thought about doing … other things."

Mama turns to her. "No, baby girl, oh my goodness. You children, you do not have to take care of me like that."

"We do, Mama," I say.

"But I couldn't live without you," she says. "I'd never want you to sacrifice yourselves for me. Your lives or your principles. I'm just grateful you came to your senses."

"Actually, I didn't. But Kurt found out and stopped me."

Her head whips to him. She beckons, and he moves over on the couch to where she can reach him. She takes his hand and holds it tight, saying fiercely, "I owe you my life, then. Because you saved my boy."

Kurt swallows. "Anyone would have done the same thing."

"No, anyone wouldn't. And anyhow, that's not the point. The point is that youdid."

He gives her a smile. "I was really worried about him. Still am, sometimes." He looks over at me with those big brown eyes, and it's my turn to fess up more.

"I had to go to a hospital for a while," I say. "I did inpatient and outpatient therapy. And now I have regular sessions with a therapist who asked me if I'd told you these things. When I said no, she gave me a look like I knew you'd give me. So I'm sorry to ruin Christmas."

"You haven't ruined anything. I'm just so sorry you felt that bad," Mama says. "I hope you're getting all the care you need so you'll get better."

"He is. At least I think he is," Kurt says. "I'm doing everything I can to make sure of it."

Mama opens her mouth to say something, then stops and shakes her head, closing her eyes. A tear drips down her cheek, and I feel like utter shit.

"I'm sorry I planned to kill myself," I tell her. "I'm sorry I couldn't think of another way to save you. I'm learning that it was my depression telling me that killing myself was the only option."

"We would've never forgiven you!" May Ella says.

I give her an apologetic look, then turn back to Mama. "Kurt said that killing myself would hurt you worse than having bad kidneys, but that sort of logic is hard to believe when you're in the middle of depression."

"He's right, though." Mama gives me a watery smile. "I love you, Johnny. Don't you forget that. Don't take yourself away from me, ever. I'll not have it."

"It's a little easier to tell you this, knowing that we're gonna get you your transplant," I admit.

"But I bet it was hard anyway," she says quietly.

"Yeah. It was."

"Then thank you for telling me, and I'm so sorry it got that bad," Mama says. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you heal." She looks at Kurt. "And thank you for saving my son. You're a hero. I hope you know that."

"I think my mom's the hero, actually," he says.

"Yeah," I say, my voice hoarse. "She's a keeper, too. Just like you."

That night, lying in the hotel bed in Fresno, tracing a line down Kurt's back with my fingertips, I sigh.

"What's up?" he asks.

I don't answer right away.

"Honesty," he reminds me. I grumble, but I know he's right.

"Why don't I feel better?" I finally ask. "I've done all the things I'm supposed to do. I got therapy, and I'm taking my meds. I fessed up to Mama. She's gonna get the care she needs. I have an amazing boyfriend, a job working at a beautiful ranch, and a fancy home to come back to every night. And a dog sleepin' at the foot of my bed. So why do I still sometimes want to end it all? Will this ever stop being so hard?"

He pulls me closer to him. "Recovery isn't linear. And shaming yourself for not feeling better is counterproductive. What's the line about ‘If you're in a hole, stop digging'? Piling bad feelings on top of bad feelings just makes a bigger pile. You don't have to feel great on any kind of schedule."

"I wish I could, though. I wish you didn't have to watch over me like a hawk."

"I choose to do that," Kurt says with a little edge in his tone. "Because I like having you around. I like it a lot. If you need reminding that your life has value, I'll remind you."

"I don't want you to have to remind me. But okay, yeah. That's piling bad feelings over bad again, isn't it?"

He shrugs. "It's okay, babe. You don't have to be anything other than who you are."

"Where did I find you?" I ask wonderingly.

"In a bar in Vegas."

I chuckle. "That was pretty smart of me."

"It was."

He kisses my palm, and we lie in the darkness for a while. All my spinning, secret thoughts are rising to the surface, despite my attempts to banish them.

"Do you feel like you're in crisis?" Kurt asks.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. Maybe it will be better after the trial," I whisper. "Or if we can settle this thing at mediation."

"We can hope so," Kurt says. "But that's still a ways off. If you need an emergency session with Christian, or to go back to the hospital, just say the word. I'll support you. Whatever will help. Do you think you're a danger to yourself as things stand?"

I do a mental check. "The thoughts about guns or pills or whatever still come, and they scare me. I still hear violins, but not all the time. I don't feel so much in the dumps. I get happy sometimes. I get horny sometimes. It's … better. But not back to normal. I do like my job. I wish I had more hours at it, honestly. Bronwyn and I get along great, but I'm not the only part-timer there."

"Is it the money that concerns you? That you feel you're not earning enough?"

"In part. But more that I want somethin' to do. Pass the time. Occupy my thoughts."

"Maybe we should be looking more into getting you an intimacy coordinator job. I bet you know someone who could get you an interview. You could ask your agent. Or a friend in the industry."

"That's a good idea."

"I don't mean to push you before you're ready," he adds. "Just, I think it might be something that would make you feel good. You'd be helping people."

"You're right."

He snuggles into me.

"Why do you want to be with me?" I blurt, out of nowhere. "I'm a damn mess."

Kurt pushes me onto my back and straddles my waist. "John H. Haskell, I want to be with you for more reasons than I can list, but let me try to articulate as many as I can. You're honest and caring. You love your family and dogs and horses. You're genuine and sweet and selfless. You're sexy and confident and wise. I love your funny sayings that, when I think about them, have a kernel of truth." He swallows hard. "I can keep going, but the bottom line is, I just like you. I like how you've opened up to me, even about the things that scare you. How you don't lie about the bad stuff, even when you want to. There's a lot about you to like, Johnny, and I hope before too long you can believe that about yourself."

"Damn."

He leans down and kisses me. "What do you like about me?"

I grin. This is the easy part. I flip us over and lie between his legs, framing his face with my hands. "Everything. I like every fucking thing about you, Kurt Arden Delmont. I like how deeply you care, not just about me, but about everything. How you're not content with the status quo, but you wanna make things better, even if you haven't figured out how. I like how damn hot you are. I like that you're artsy, and even though you're all buttoned up, you have a wild side. I appreciate how you refuse to let me self-destruct. I like that you're pushy and don't let me get away with my bullshit. How safe you are to open up to. How you keep your promises."

"Wow," he whispers. "You make me sound pretty special."

"That's because you are."

We end up kissing for a while after that. When we're both breathless, I flop down next to him, but we can't keep our fingers off each other.

Kurt whispers, "That part where you say I refuse to let you self-destruct. I couldn't let you—not after Andrei. But I care about you independent of that. You know that, don't you? It's not just a savior complex or something. I care about you."

I nod, though I'm not sure I always believe that. It's still nice to hear.

He hugs me tight. "I'm proud of you for telling your mom the hard shit. Proud of you for facing your demons. I'm proud of you, always."

"Thanks, babe. Thanks."