Two more days breeze by, uneventfully. That is, unless you count the fact I have three boxes packed full of my stuff and ready to go. It's pretty much all I do in the evenings, since I still haven't solved my differences with Martin, and conveniently, he's never around. I have no clue where he's hiding: he's not even going to school anymore. He just comes back to the house late at night, eats dinner by himself, takes a shower, and goes to bed. Day review times are obviously cancelled until further notice.

So, in short, I've gone back to being the same old pre-Celadon John; the one with no friends—the one who spends a lot of time alone, except for the time I spend with Vee.

I also haven't mustered the courage to talk to Veronica about our moving. I'm totally procrastinating, just like Martin said I would, and the longer I avoid it, the harder it's going to be to break the news to her.

Two soft knocks on the door wake me from my daydreaming.

"Come in."

Alex glides in, two beers in hand, and takes a seat in the desk chair. "I thought we could use some mano a mano time. Up for it?"

"Not really," I tell him, "but I can't say no to you anyway."

Alex grins. "Here, take it while it's still cold." He hands me one of the bottles, and we take a long swig at the same time. I have to agree with him; it is better when it's cold. "So," he continues, "I heard from Martin that things went south."

"Are you talking about the moving, my fight with Martin, or the fact I'm unable to be honest with my girlfriend?"

"Start wherever you like."

"The moving, then," I say. "Thing is, I don't even know why we're moving all of a sudden, when last Friday Mom told me Grandma was totally fine! But then, a nano-second later, Dad tells me he has bad news and I never asked what happened. I pretty much just shut down and bolted."

"Really?" Alex says, taking another pull from his beer.

"I mean, a couple of days ago, Dad tried to tell me the details, but I wasn't ready to hear them. I pretended I had a headache and just went to bed."

"True John Foster fashion, huh?" He chuckles lightly and takes another swig. "I know what happened if you're curious. Do you want to know them now?"

"I dunno," I say. "It wasn't like I completely put my head in the sand. And to be fair, nobody is at home lately. Dad is so busy handling all the details when he's not at the restaurant, your mom has to be there, too, to help your dad, and since I'm spending most of my time with Veronica, I don't see much of you either." I take another swig, and the bitter taste clings to the back of my throat. I don't hate beer anymore, and it's definitely stopped tasting like dog pee. "So, there's nobody around to ask, and even if someone was around to ask, does it really change anything? Reservations are already made, and I have most of my shit packed anyway. There's no turning back at this point. As for Dad? I guess he's just giving me some space now after I cut him off before."

"Gotta give it to Martin, though. You do look like you have accepted your fate." He bends forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Which, given the circumstances, is pretty good for you."

I sigh. "I mean, I'm still angry and sad, and I don't want any of this to happen at all, you know? But what else can I do about it? I don't really have any control."

"Well, of course you're pissed off, you know? Otherwise I'd have to declare you dead inside, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah..." I read the fine print on the bottle's label, because I've run out of steam. Then the question comes out of my mouth before I have time to think about it. "So, what actually happened in Maple Heights?"

"Your mother took Grandma to the doctor on Friday, and they ran a few tests on her. Apparently, she was fine; alive and kicking just as we all hoped."

"Yeah, that's the part I know. Then the very next day the bomb we thought had defused blew up in my fucking face."

Alex nods. "The next morning, your mother woke up early to get breakfast ready, and when Grandma got up, she didn't recognize your mom."

I give Alex a doubtful frown. "Didn't recognize Mom? That sounds stupid. Mom's her own daughter."

"That's the kind of problem Grandma has," Alex says. "She's got dementia, so parts of her memory start to blink out, and with time, those memories will never come back. Something about plaques and tangles in the aging brain, according to the doctors."

"Wait a minute. Can dementia get worse that quickly? Like, overnight?"

"I didn't know much about the disease either, so I did some Googling." He takes his phone out of his pocket and offers it to me so I can see for myself. I wave it off. "It's serious stuff; and it affects different people differently. Grandma's dementia is really ramping up; that's why she needs constant supervision now."

"How do we know Grandma isn't just making this up?" I say desperately, because I wouldn't put it past her to pull an evil prank like this.

"Because, apparently, she got lost in her own town a few weeks ago," Alex explains. "She could just have taken a wrong turn, or been distracted, but with what happened last weekend with your mom, it's obvious she has a problem now, and can't be left alone."

"I don't know, man," I say acidly. "It still sounds like bullshit."

"I wish that was the case, Little John." Alex takes a long swig, emptying his bottle then places it on the desk. "And also, I wouldn't worry about Martin."

"I'm not worried about him." I check on my bottle, halfway empty, just to stall the impending conversation a little longer. "Martin made his argument; he was right with everything he said, and I went all bitchy on him."

"Martin isn't the kind of guy who sweats that stuff, though," Alex says.

"I don't know about that. He hasn't been around lately and I'm willing to bet he's just avoiding me."

"I'm more inclined to think he's up to something."

I think about this for a moment. Alex might actually be on to something. "Yeah," I say. "That sounds like something he might do."

"You know he doesn't hold grudges." He picks up the empty beer bottle from the desk, checks for any remaining drops, then sets it back down again. "He's up to something. Just wait and see."

"I really want to apologize, though," I say. "I kind of went over the line."

"The best way to do that is to heed his words, Little John."

"I know, but..."

Heed his words. Sure. Easier said than done.

"What's up with that, anyway?" Alex says, then jumps up from his chair. "Wait; hold that thought." He glides out of the room, and returns a minute later with a new beer. "Now. Explain to me what's going on with your girlfriend."

I rub my eyes with my free hand, buying time to process how I'm going to plead my case. I take a deep breath and start at the beginning. "OK. It's like this: The other day, when we had our beer party at the beach, I ran into Candace. And she told me that if I ended up having to leave, Vee would be really, really messed up."

Alex nods silently, urging me to go on.

"And then," I continue, "after some more talking, she told me that if I had to go, I had to make sure to stop by and say goodbye. And then her eyes filled up with tears." My own eyes feel itchy remembering that moment, but I refuse to cry over that again.

Alex stays silent, waiting for me to finish the story.

"And it might sound stupid but... I just saw Vee standing there; ready to fall apart at the news I was supposed to tell her. It was too much to bear. Because I've never seen Vee cry before, and telling her I have to go after all our time together is really going to hurt her." I peel at a corner of the label on my beer bottle, and a whole section of it comes away in my hand. "Martin said I'm just avoiding reality and playing dumb with her, but what I'm really avoiding is hurting her. And he's right, I'm being a total chickenshit, but I don't want to spend the last few days I have here crying alongside her. I want some happy days with Veronica before all goes south, you know?"

He ponders over this, taking occasional sips from his fresh beer. He finally nods, reclining back on the chair. "I'll talk to her if you want."

"I don't want that, either."

"Look, John, we've gone through this before. Remember you figured out on your own that sometimes it's hard to do the right thing?"

"Yes, but..."

"And what's the right thing to do now?"

"There's no right thing to do!" I snap, throwing my arms in the air and spilling some beer in the process. "Either way she's going to be hurt, so what's the rush in telling her?"

Alex raises a studded brow. He knows I know better than this. "Then what?" he says. "Are you planning on going to Maple Heights without telling her? I thought you just said that Martin was right when he told you she deserves to know; give her some respect, John."

"You just don't get it, either."

"I know what you're trying to say. It makes sense to me. You want to stay normal with her for as long as you can, to enjoy your time with her as much as you can. But you're making it all about YOU. And you'll have to face her in three days and tell her that, hey! You know what? I'll be moving to Maple Heights tomorrow, like you're just going to another town to buy a nice pair of shoes or something. And that's not fair to Vee, John. I get that this is hard for you to face, but you need to think about her feelings, too. That's why I'm willing to help you with this."

Alex doing my dirty work for me? It sounds like an easy fix, that's for sure. And I could trust Alex to handle things cleanly and smoothly; to be careful with Vee's feelings. Better than I would do it myself. But I know better, which is probably the real source of my anger. "Thanks," I say. "But that's not the right thing to do, either."

"No, it isn't." He gives me a sympathetic smile, and holds my gaze. "But it beats not doing anything at all, you know? And there's no shame in asking for help when you need it."

"I'm not used to that," I say.

"I know you're not."

For the first time in months, I see a frown on Alex' face. "You were raised pretty much on your own, and you were always expected to do what you had to do."

"Even if that meant mishandling stuff."

"Uncle Tom has always worked way too hard, and Aunt Elizabeth has always been way too strict. That's why Mom stepped out of the restaurant. She wanted your mom to stay there, because she wanted to look after you, herself."

I didn't know a thing about this! But then again, I never question adult motivations at all. I just figure that if things work a certain way—good or bad—there must be a good reason for it. Like Aunt Sugar stepping out of her restaurant. I just thought it made sense for her to do so, with Dad and Mom being there pretty much all the time. I figured she would enjoy the opportunity to stay home for once, with her kids, doing "Mom things". I never imagined I would factor into her decision to leave. And somehow that just doesn't feel right.

But Alex isn't done with his speech yet. "All things considered," he continues, "you've done pretty well on your own so far. You're polite, empathic, and you don't rock the boat. You don't let Martin influence you and you even keep him out of trouble most of the time. But, in my opinion, you're still pretty emotionally immature, John, and that's probably because your parents never really took the time to support you on the things that really matter."

"For example?"

"For example, the current situation with your girlfriend. It should be your parents' job to support you and help you get through this deal with her. Instead, they're just doing their own thing, as they see fit, and letting you roll with the punches all by yourself."

"But it's only logical, isn't it? Vee is my girlfriend; not theirs."

"I'm saying it's their responsibility to look after you and have your back when you need it. They're both too used with you being able to navigate your own way through life, with no real guidance from them. This is going to backfire on them one day; I'm sure of it."

"Come on. You're exaggerating."

"Okay. Let's suppose I am." He leaves the second bottle on the desk next to the first one, and crosses his arms behind his head. "When was the last time either of your parents had a talk like this with you? You know, asked you how you're feeling."

I scratch my head. "Wait. Let me think." There must be some time I can remember, surely. But as I rack my brain, nothing comes to me. "I can't really remember, but I'm sure there must have been some "Mom talks". I honestly don't remember."

"None in two years, am I right?"

I stare at my older cousin, really wanting now to prove him wrong. I mean, my parents make me go nuts, but I feel the urge to defend them, anyway.

In the end, though, I purse my lips in defeat. Alex is right.

"Thought so," he says.

"So," I say. "Let me get this straight. You're trying to imply that it's my parents fault I'm emotionally crippled?"

"Pretty much, yes." He picks up the beer and this time drains it in one gulp. I wonder how it is that he isn't drunk already, but there isn't even a sign of a slurry tongue from him. "The way I see it, the last couple of years here at Celadon Bay with us have been the best thing that could have ever happened to you."

"Amen to that!" I lift my bottle and take a sip.

This brings back Alex's beacon-bright smile, the one that had pretty much disappeared during our talk.

"So," I say, changing the subject. "What happened with that guy from college?"

And the conversation drifts over to Silver Shore as Alex tells me how Flannigan actually bailed on his punishment for losing to Alex. But just as the general mood in the room begins to lift, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and as I read the message, I feel my face, my jaw, my mood and my life sink back down into a bottomless pit of despair. Blood rushes to my head in turbulent waves, each one sending a jolt of pain right through my forehead.

"What's wrong?" Alex asks, a look of concern on his face.

"It's Veronica," I tell him. "She wants me to meet her at her house at 9 tomorrow."

"That's not all of it," Alex says, frowning. "It's all over your face, Little John."

"She says we need to talk about something important."

"Wait, you aren't thinking—

"Yes," I say, texting Vee back. "I am. I'm thinking Martin has told her everything."

I'll be there

And then I drop my head between my knees so I don't pass out.