Part 36 (1/2)
”Big b.a.l.l.s it is.” I switched on Wipeout, and my heart warmed at the sight and sound of my brothers laughing at others' stupidity.
It wasn't a direct lesson from my dad, and it was about the most sour lemonade I could have made out of lemons, but his death forced -1- me to have a real talk with my brothers for maybe the fi rst time ever.
0- And for the fi rst time in forever, some of my guilt fi nally lifted.
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That night, my mom home, the twins in bed, I sent a text to Leo.
I want to say I'm sorry, but I don't know how.
Those words, ”I'm sorry,” felt so contrived to me for so long and yet I knew they were important. What Leo did with them was up to him.
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CHAPTER.
36.
Snow fell steadily on my way to work Sat.u.r.day, and I gripped the steering wheel to the point of hand cramps. Drivers ed never prepared me for skidding sideways uncontrollably until my possessed car decided to stop inches from a stop sign. Not to mention how other people drove like complete a.s.sholes. I don't know how many times I yelled into my rearview mirror, ”Two car lengths, a.s.s- hole!” There were very few things I feared, but driving in snow was one of them. My mom claimed it would get better with practice, but since it didn't snow year- round, how could I ever stay on top of it? I'd either have to move to Antarctica to have snow all the time or the equator to never have it. But I liked the seasons.
I arrived at work shaking and dripping in sweat.
”Did you run here?” asked Ila. She wore fi ngerless gloves, as the front counter received a lot of the draft from the opening door.
-1- I peeled my scarf away from my neck and s.h.i.+vered at the newly 0- exposed wetness. ”Snowshoed, actually.” I hung my jacket up in the
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back room and pulled my grungy work t-s.h.i.+rt out of my schoolbag.
Before I re- smoothed my hair into a low ponytail and tucked a towel into my waistband, I checked my phone. No reply from Leo. Using Becca's positive thinking, I told myself he probably slept in. Using my usual apocalyptic brand of thinking, I guessed he barfed on the word ”sorry” and had his phone number changed.
Since it was only 10:00 a.m., the lunch rush was still to come, although on a snowy day there could either be a ton of people who didn't want to cook or just a trickle of customers. Enough people lived within walking distance, and walking around in the snow was a lot easier than driving. I pa.s.sed the time by refi lling the mayo and mustard squeeze bottles, restocking cheese, and arguing with Doug about the greatest sequels of all time.
”Aside from the obvious Evil Dead and Basket Case, I think A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 was really good,” I said.
”I haven't even seen that. I'm sure it sucks. Commercial c.r.a.p.”
”Aren't we all pretentious, Mr. College Student? You can't judge a movie you haven't seen. We're talking teens in a mental hospital. At one point, Freddy pulls out some kid's tendons and works him like a marionette. Brilliant.”
I was so busy making my obviously winning point that it took me a few minutes to notice Leo watching me on the other side of the counter. He wore a gray winter hat this time with his black winter coat. Not that I noticed. His cheeks were red from where the falling snow burned them.
”You know nothing,” I told Doug as I budged past him toward Leo.
”Hey,” I greeted him, hopefulness practically exploding off my face.
”Hey.” He leaned on the counter, as was his usual position here.
--1 It had been so long, though, did he actually have a usual position?
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”Thank you for the text,” he said.
”You're welcome,” I off ered. It seemed like enough to start the fl ow of conversation.
”How's Becca doing?” He surprised me with the question, even though it was what a nice person would ask. She did have cancer, and she did once barf in his general direction.
”She's okay. Chemo is over, but she's in radiation which seems to also suck. She's really weak.” I didn't like the sound of that, since Becca was trying to kick cancer's a.s.s. ”I mean, she's tough, but it's never ending. I still don't understand why the treatment is so unbe- lievably cruel. She pa.s.sed one hundred days. Sick for one hundred f.u.c.king days.”
”Seriously? That long? I feel like this year has gone on for ten years.”
That wasn't good. I was part of his extra- long year. So was his brother, I knew, but if only I had been there for him when I should have, maybe it wouldn't have felt so long.