Live Through This

by Mindi Scott

  Behind me, the door flings open and two college-aged girls stumble in, doubled over with laughter. They’re both wearing little skirts and big jewelry, and are really pretty.

  “There’s a sign on my forehead, isn’t there?” the blonde asks. “There has to be.”

  The brunette clomps over to the sink beside me in her high-heeled boots. “I swear there isn’t. Check it.”

  The blonde stands next to her and leans in close to the mirror, touching her forehead like she’s truly trying to find something. “You’re right. Is it my aura then? How does this keep happening to me? I mean, I might be an American—”

  “There’s no ‘might’ about it,” the brunette says.

  “Okay, but my God! That doesn’t mean that I’m giving it up to every foreign guy who wants me. It takes more than a cute smile, a nice body, and a hot accent to get into these pants.” The blonde gives her own butt a pat.

  “What does it take, then?” her friend asks in a teasing voice.

  “How about a cute smile, nice body, hot accent, and not being a creepy creep,” the blonde says. “Because, bitch, I have standards.”

  They dissolve into giggles again. I can’t help kind of laughing with them for a second, but then I’m hit with an unexpected pang of loneliness. This used to be Alejandra and me. I mean, we aren’t flashy like these girls, and would never have called each other “bitch”—not even as a joke—but all the silliness and teasing and hiding in the bathroom to talk about weird guys? So us.

  The brunette dabs tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes and then turns to me as if she’s noticing me for the first time. “That is such a cute purse. Where’d you get it?”

  I look down at the pink and black Kate Spade on my arm. “Thanks. It was a Christmas present from my brother.”

  “Wow,” she says. “Where can I sign up for a brother like that?”

  “Seriously.” The blonde puckers up to smooth on red lipstick. “Mine is useless. He sits in my parents’ basement all day, getting high and playing video games.”

  “Oh, no.” I flash a sympathetic smile toward her in the mirror, and fall silent. I don’t know why it even matters—I’ll never see them again—but I like that these girls believe that Bryan is the awesome, purse-buying type of brother and not the pot-smoking-in-the-basement sort.

  “So, are we doing this?” the brunette asks her friend, motioning toward the door.

  “There aren’t any windows to climb out, so I guess so.” The blonde laughs. “It’ll be fine, though. We can always head to another bar if he doesn’t take the hint.”

  They quickly run their hands through their hair, check their cleavage, adjust their skirts, and leave in as big a flourish as they arrived.

  It’s as good a time as any for me to do the same.

  Maybe after I put on lip gloss.

  • • •

  I finally force myself to leave the bathroom, and take my time wandering back to the table. On the way, I spot Bryan at the bar. He’s smiling, which makes me smile. This is so much better than seeing him mope over Heather.

  But my heart sinks when I notice that he’s leaning toward the blonde girl from the bathroom. Everything from her tight mouth to her crossed arms to the way she’s backing away tells me that she isn’t into him. Worse, whatever he’s saying is making her angry.

  And that’s when I realize: The “foreign guy” she was talking about with the smile and the body and the accent is my brother.

  Her friend and three guys are moving in closer and closer to them. And clearly, Bryan doesn’t like whatever it is that they’re saying to him. He shoves one guy. Another shoves Bryan against the bar.

  “Hey!” the bartender yells.

  Without even stopping to think, I run over, push through the small group, and grab Bryan’s arm. “Let’s go.” I look into the eyes of the girl he was trying to chat up. “He’s going to leave you alone now.”

  “I’m fine, Coley.” Bryan tries to shrug me off. “Just having a little conversation here.”

  “No,” the brunette says. “You’re just being an asshole.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Sure. I’m an asshole because your friend can’t take a compliment.”

  “Dude, walk away,” says one of the guys. “She already said she’s not interested.”

  “Please, Bryan,” I say.

  He doesn’t make a move, so I grab on tightly and pull him away.

  “We didn’t need to go anywhere.” Bryan raises his voice as I drag him back toward where we were sitting. “Who the fuck do they think they are anyway?”

  I put out my hand when we reach our table. “Give me your wallet.”

  He reaches into his pocket and hands it over. I pass a handful of Canadian bills to Reece, who’s looking up at us with his mouth open. So much for the worst of the night having already happened. “Can you take care of the bill?” I ask him. “I need to get Bryan out to the truck.”

  “Should I get our food to go or try to cancel the order?” Reece asks.

  “Whatever you want,” I say.

  Reece sets the money on the table and stands. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

  “We’ll be fine,” I say.

  He slips me his keys. I wrap my arms around Bryan again and we stumble through the restaurant and outside, into the cold. He’s still wearing his clunky snowboarding boots and dragging his feet, which isn’t making this easy at all.

  “God, I hate girls like that,” Bryan grumbles.

  And it seems to me that she hates “creepy creeps” like him, but I don’t say it aloud.

  At the truck, my hands shake more from anger than the cold as I unlock the doors, recline the passenger seat for Bryan, and then get into the backseat from the other side. Leaning over the driver’s seat, I turn on the engine to get the heater going. The truck makes kind of a high-pitched grinding noise.

  “What are you trying to do?” Bryan asks. “Burn out his starter?”

  “Yes,” I say, settling back onto the jump seat. “That was exactly my plan. I was thinking that I want to spend as much time as possible in this parking lot with you, so I might as well break Reece’s truck.”

  He sighs. “Just don’t turn the key for so long.”

  I don’t answer.

  Bryan crosses his arms over his eyes. “I can’t even talk to some chick without almost getting my ass kicked,” he says to the ceiling. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “You’re asking me this? Really? What’s wrong with you is that you drank too much and totally embarrassed me in front of Reece and an entire restaurant full of people! Why’d you have to do that?”

  “I don’t know,” he says bitterly.

  “Figure it out. Next time, I’ll leave you there.”

  “You probably should have.” He makes a few quick sniffs as if he’s trying not to cry. “I’m such a loser.”

  I want to stay mad at him—I am still mad—but no matter what, he’s my brother. He needs for someone to be on his side and I’m all that he has. I reach forward and gently adjust his hat that’s sliding off. “Reece is going to get us back to the house soon and we can forget this ever happened, okay?”

  “I can’t handle this, Coley.” He lets out a ragged breath. “I really, really can’t.”

  “You just need some sleep and you’ll feel better,” I say.

  I think I sound pretty convincing, but I’m sure that neither of us believes a word that I’m saying.

  CHAPTER 13

  Back at the town house, Reece helps me drag Bryan out of the truck and into the foyer. “I’ve got him now,” I say. “I’ll come back up in a few minutes.”

  Reece nods and heads outside again to grab our takeout boxed dinners and Bryan’s stuff. It was lucky for us that the greeter remembered Bryan had stored his backpack and snowboard at the coat-check station. Otherwise, we would have left it all behind.

  Bryan grabs for the handrail and misses. “I can walk on my own,” he says.

&nbs
p; “Not very well.” I hold on to his waist as he trips his way down the first couple of steps. “Slow down. Lean against me, okay?”

  “I’m not as wasted as you think I am,” he says into my hair.

  Yeah, right.

  We finally make it to the bottom of the staircase where our stepdad almost collides with us. Even with Tony’s lack of expression, I know that he knows Bryan’s drunk, and he’s not pleased about it.

  “Oh, hi!” I say. “What’s going on?”

  Tony lifts up Emma’s suitcase. “We’ve moved your sister to the pullout couch next to the boys’ room. That way, your mom and I can check on her easier throughout the night.”

  “What about Reece?”

  “I’ve put his things in the living room. We’re all turning in early, so he won’t be disturbed. I take it you’re going to bed now too?”

  I glance at my brother out of the corner of my eye. The wall and I are all that’s holding him up. I don’t want to admit to Tony that I wasn’t able to eat yet, so I say, “Bryan is, I think. And I will pretty soon.”

  “Good.”

  With that, Tony steps around us and heads upstairs.

  I help Bryan to his room and flip on the light. He crashes forward onto his unmade bed and lies there with his legs dangling over. “I hate it when you’re pissed at me,” he mumbles.

  “Shhh.” I grab his hat and toss it toward an open dresser drawer. “It’s okay.”

  I untie his boots and yank them off, and then kneel on the mattress beside him. His arms and neck flop around so much as I pull his shirt over his head that I decide he can deal with his own pants later. “Come on. Get under the covers.” I move to stand beside the bed and fluff his pillow. He crawls up. “Are you going to be sick?” I ask, tucking the blankets around him. “Do you need some water or aspirin or something?”

  He doesn’t respond, which is perfectly fine with me. With any luck, he’ll be passed out until morning.

  • • •

  In the living room, the couch has already been converted and the cushions are piled against the wall. Reece is at the table, eating his barbecue chicken sandwich out of the box.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “Your stepdad told me you’d gone to bed so I put yours in the fridge.”

  “What? It isn’t even nine o’clock!” I grab my food from the kitchen and then take a seat next to him at the head of the table. “So that was an interesting night out,” I say, putting on a smile. “Nonstop fun. That’s what you get on vacation with me.”

  He smiles back. “So true.”

  I lift the lid on my container and poke some loose cabbage into a fish taco. “Bryan’s whole harassing-a-girl-and-almost-getting-into-a-bar-fight thing was kind of exciting. I won’t be forgetting that particular fun for a while.”

  “It’s okay.” Reece says it like he means it; like he has no doubt that my light tone is all an act.

  I dig into my barely warm tacos and fries. I’m the one who mentioned Bryan, but I don’t want to talk about him anymore; I don’t even want to think about him. What I want is to go back to how things were earlier when Reece was holding my hand. And hugging me. And kissing me.

  After a minute or two of us chewing, Reece clears his throat. “Coley, can I ask you something?”

  I nod, even though I can tell by his voice that I’m not going to be excited to answer his question.

  “What you said before,” he says. “About your mom running away from New Zealand. Were you saying that your dad was abusive?”

  After all the distractions with my brother tonight, I still didn’t manage to escape this discussion. I can’t blame Reece for asking, though. I’d ask too, if I were him. Sinking back against my chair, I say, “Yes, he was.”

  “So did he . . . hit her? And you and Bryan?”

  I twist my hands. Alejandra is the only other person I’ve ever talked to about this and those discussions feel like they happened forever ago. “Maybe? I know he would beat up my mom, but I’m not sure if he did anything to Bryan and me or not. We don’t talk about that kind of stuff. I’ve had nightmares for a long time, but they aren’t actual memories, I don’t think.”

  In my worst dream—the one I’ve had dozens and dozens of times, since before I can remember—I’m always running, trying to hide. It doesn’t matter where I go or how many doors I lock, I’m never safe.

  I start talking again, to keep from dwelling on this depressing stuff. “Did you ever have those Wizard of Oz nightmares? The angry tree that throws apples? The witch’s feet that shrivel up underneath the house? Flying monkeys? That’s some super scary stuff, am I right?”

  Reece doesn’t crack a smile. Instead, he seems to be studying me, trying to figure me out. “I hate thinking that anyone would hurt you,” he says, scooting his chair closer to mine. “And that it would be so bad that you still have nightmares.”

  I look into his eyes. “Don’t think about it. I never do. Unlike my brother, I’m fine.”

  He nods slowly, still looking doubtful.

  “Reece, I promise you. I don’t remember it at all. And I should never have brought it up,” I say, smiling big, “because you came here for a good time, and this is so the opposite.”

  “I’m glad you told me, though.” He touches my arm. “And I’m especially glad that your mom got you guys away.”

  “Me too.”

  I don’t know what else to say. It happened, Bryan’s still messed up all these years later, and I have no idea how I can help him. Maybe no one can help him.

  No. I shouldn’t think like that. I really, really shouldn’t.

  I crumple my napkin and snap my container shut. Reece does the same, and we sit, looking at each other. The silence doesn’t start out uncomfortable, but the longer it goes on, the more curious I become about what he’s thinking. What does he want to happen next?

  I want to be close to him. I want him to kiss me again. Most of all, I want him to tell me what he’s feeling, even if the words have to come from a song.

  “Do you want to watch TV or something?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says quickly.

  We get up together and throw our containers away. He takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen, into the living room, and onto his bed.

  Reece Kinsey and I.

  Are on a bed.

  Together.

  Sitting between Sterling the Giraffe and me, Reece leans back against the pillows and stretches his legs out, like it’s no big deal, like we’ve done this every day of our lives. “What should we watch?”

  I glance at the black TV screen, and then back at him. “Um. I don’t know.”

  It’s the best I can come up with under these circumstances.

  Neither of us makes a move toward grabbing the remote, though. Instead, he puts his arm around me and pulls me close. I snuggle in until my head’s on his shoulder and my hand is across his chest.

  We stay like this for five years or maybe five minutes and my heart thuds like crazy for every single second and it is a big deal because I can feel his heart doing the same thing.

  “I like this show,” Reece says by my ear. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  I giggle and sit up a little, positioning my face within inches of his. “Hey, do you remember that time when we were in a hot tub and your hand was trying to get all frisky with my hand?”

  “Is that what it was trying to do?” he asks, smiling.

  “I think so.” I run my fingers over his. “And then you came up with the wacky idea to go out in the snow and my little brothers locked us outside?”

  “Hmm. Yeah. I remember all of this pretty well since it was, like, two hours ago?”

  “Do you still think it’s the best day ever?”

  He nods and I move closer and he turns his body toward mine and we’re kissing again and I’m still not sure if I’m doing it right, but he definitely is and I don’t care where we are right now because only this matters—only Reece, who smells like fabric softener and soap
and chlorine, whose hands are on my back and in my hair.

  “I had it planned,” he says, pulling away a century before I’m ready for him to, “that if I ever got the chance to kiss you, I’d quote ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ afterward.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  He tilts his head. “Well. I don’t want to assume anything.”

  Wasn’t I clear when we were texting last night? And all day today? And especially just now when we were kissing? Does he really need for me to say it?

  Maybe he does.

  I move my face close again and stare into his eyes. “Reece, I’m your brown-eyed girl. If you’re all right with that?”

  “I’m very all right with it.”

  It is official now. Reece is my boyfriend!

  “Are there any green-eyed boy songs?” I ask.

  “Actually, Dolly Parton has one.” He grins. “But before you say that I know every single song in the world, you should know that I looked it up. For in case you knew it.”

  I laugh. “So you were assuming something, it sounds like.”

  “Nope. Just hoping.”

  Still smiling, I move back in to kiss him again, but then I hear Tony’s voice. “Coley! I thought you said you were going to bed.”

  “Oh!” I sit up straight and slide away from Reece in a hurry. “I am.” I look over my shoulder at Tony, standing on the upper staircase in his bathrobe. “I mean, I’m about to. I’m just not very tired, really.”

  “Tired or not, your mother wants you in your room.”

  “Okay. I’ll go in a few minutes.”

  “You’ll go now.”

  I hold in a sigh. “See you in the morning,” I say to Reece, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

  He lifts the giraffe and touches her to my cheek as if she’s kissing me. “See you then.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I’m lying alone in the middle of this huge bed, tracing my fingers over my giraffe pendant still clasped around my neck. I feel so different from who I was yesterday. From who I was a few hours ago, even. I’m Reece’s girlfriend now. I’ve experienced his soap and fabric softener scent way up close, his cinnamon kisses, the smoothness of his face. Yesterday, I liked him—a lot. But tonight, my head has these amazing tingles from thinking his name. His name!