Sweet Fix

by Sasha Gold

  “I’m nineteen, Trig. Today’s my birthday. Remember? Not a girl.” I set the next glass down on the dishwasher tray with a little too much force and it clangs against the others.

  He snorts. “Yeah, well, I don’t hire women either. I have a dozen mechanics working in the shop.”

  Jane’s eyes widen. “Ooh right. Their language is a little salty.” She whispers like she’s divulging a state secret.

  Trig snorts. “Not as salty as Maggie’s. It’s not the cussing. She’d distract them.”

  Jane waves her hand, dismissing his concerns. “Maggie can take care of herself. Besides, you’ve said it yourself. She doesn’t dress to attract attention.”

  I stop loading the dishwasher and stare at him for a long moment before going back to work. He can think whatever he wants. What do I care? I’m not trying to get attention from anyone. I should go get a face piercing just to flip him the middle finger. Asshole.

  I’ve thought about it plenty of times, but Wes asked me not to get tattoos or piercings when I first moved in. He said it would be a bad example for the boys. I can tell he hates Trig’s ink. I know they regard me as some sort of role model, but I promised Wes. Now I have to stand by that promise even though I’d love to see Trig’s expression if I sat down to dinner with a ring stuck through my brow or lip.

  I want to tell him I don’t even want a job at his damned garage, but out of respect for Wes and Jane, I don’t swear.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I say quietly.

  After the dishes are done, Jane calls everyone to the den. Wes starts a fire in the fireplace. The Christmas tree stands in the corner, with presents piled below. The boys haven’t been allowed to come in here because all the gifts. Even Michael likes to shake the presents and guess what’s inside.

  There’s a stack of birthday presents on the couch. For me. I honestly don’t know what to say. The boys jump around, their eyes shining with happiness, like it’s their birthday.

  The gifts are ridiculous. Embarrassing. As I tear open the paper on each present my disbelief shifts into outright shock. Jane, as usual, has gone way beyond anything I would imagine. The presents are perfect. A Pandora bracelet and a charm in the shape of a heart. Pink flannel pajamas. Scented lotion. Slippers. A thick bathrobe. Everything’s girly. Jane’s probably never bought anything black in her life.

  She sniffles and wipes a few tears. “I’ve never shopped for a girl. I had so much fun.”

  Wes pats her arm, comforting her. Everyone’s looking at me with a weird, faraway expression, even Trig who’s sprawled on the loveseat across from me.

  “I feel like I should give a speech or something,” I joke.

  The boys roll around on the carpet, wrestling, but none of the adults say anything. It’s uncomfortable but not completely unpleasant. The last time I had a stack of presents to open, they came from my mother, so I don’t have much practice being gracious.

  “I’ll keep it short,” I quip. “Thank you. Jane. Wes. Trig. It’s nice to be here.”

  Michael looks up from tussling and snickers. The little twerp knows I’m feeling awkward and don’t know what to say. It’s not a problem he ever faces. Most of the time he doesn’t know how to stop talking.

  “I’m glad you’re here too,” Trig says.

  His eyes hold mine and I understand his meaning. He’s referring to the day he found me and hauled me back home. His gaze is hard. Stern. No one else knows about that day, I’m the only one who would understand the depth of his meaning. Jane and Wes have been wonderful, but knowing Trig watched me and watched over me was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

  Over the last few months, it’s helped me. A lot. Not that I’ll ever tell him. He’d just gloat.

  The way I feel for him is complicated and overwhelming. He makes me mad on a regular basis with his over-bearing ways. But there’s another side to my feelings for Trig. Sometimes when our eyes meet, it steals my breath. Maybe I’m imagining things but his gaze is different. Warmer.

  I’ve had a few dreams about him too. And I’m not talking about innocent dreams, like Trig giving me grief about school or my clothes. My dreams are heated. His mouth on mine. Him pinning my hands to the bed while he kisses me. I both love and hate the dreams. My face heats and I’m sure I’m blushing at the memory.

  I tell Jane how much I like the bracelet as she helps me put it on. When she hugs me, I can feel my heart ache a little. Sometimes it’s all too much.

  The little party winds down and Trig says good-bye, one by one, to each of the boys. Telling Jane how much he loved dinner he hugs her and Wes too. He says goodnight to everyone, and gives a lock of my hair a tug just before leaving.

  Later, when I’ve put on my new pajamas and crawled into bed, there’s a knock at my door. It’s late, so I imagine it’s Wes or Jane.

  “Come in.” I snap on the light.

  Michael and the rest of the boys file into my room. He holds a coffee can and gives it a shake. Coins clunk loudly.

  “Shh… what are you doing?”

  “We have money to pay for you. It’s our allowance. You can have it.”

  I peel off the plastic lid and see wads of dollar bills stuffed inside.

  “Since you can’t get a job, and you need money to live here, we thought we’d give you all of our money.”

  The four of them stand at the side of my bed, gazing at me with sympathetic looks. All of them have rumpled bed-heads, not because they’ve been sleeping, but because they always look tousled. They’re wearing flannel pajamas. Seth and Jimmy both have cowboy PJ’s and Thomas has astronauts floating on his. Michael, all seriousness, as usual, wears PJ’s that are navy with pinstripes.

  “I don’t know what to say, guys. This is… very kind of you.”

  I really don’t know what to say or do. This isn’t a lot of money but I can’t take it from them. Then again, I don’t want to hurt their feelings and reject it either.

  “It’s because you’re a girl.” Thomas pats my knee and gives a long and tragic sigh.

  It dawns on me they don’t really understand how the foster system works. Or, maybe they don’t even know they are foster kids. Thomas was three when he came to live with Wes and Jane. The kid probably doesn’t even remember his first few years.

  “Poor Maggie. Poor girl,” he says shaking his head.

  I give a huff of surprise not just because they’re all clueless about their existence here, but because Thomas, the non-talker, is talking – summing up what he believes my main problem is. Being female.

  “Well… yeah. It’ll be okay though.” I hold up the can. “This is going to help a lot. But I’m going to pay you back. When I get a job. Deal?”

  Michael nods solemnly and the three other monkeys follow suit, bobbing their ruffled little heads in unison.

  I toss back the blankets and herd them out of my room. “Be super quiet, so we don’t wake up Jane and Wes.”

  Amazingly, they actually follow my directions, padding off to their rooms without a sound. I make sure each one gets into bed, tucking them in. Thomas insists on kissing me. I’m never sure if he’s really over that biting episode he went through in September, so I’m pretty relieved when all he does is give me a sweet little peck on the cheek.

  After I get them all tucked in, I return to my bed and it’s not long before sleep comes for me.

  Chapter Ten

  Trig

  I’m sitting at my desk, eating lunch, when Jane rushes in. She practically never comes to the garage, so for her to show up, it’s something urgent. My heart jumps in my chest but I relax when I see a smile on her lips.

  “Ooh, good timing,” she says.

  I’m eating a sandwich from the deli and she snags the pickle before sitting down on the other side of my desk.

  “What brings you here?”

  “I was out running errands and wanted to ask you for a favor.”

  “Sure.”

  “The high school counselor called and wants
to have a meeting with me tomorrow morning, but I remembered I have to take Thomas to the speech therapist. I wondered if you could go.”

  I’m about to take a bite of my sandwich but her request surprises me. I set the sandwich down and sit back in my chair. “You want me to go?”

  She shrugs. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He didn’t sound upset.”

  “Maggie’s not in trouble? She didn’t get into a fight?”

  Jane looks affronted, like the notion of Maggie getting into a fight is ridiculous.

  “I’m sure that’s not what this is about.” She takes a bite of the pickle spear and frowns at me while she crunches.

  I’d like to point out that the girl got into several scrapes at the beginning of the year. The first week she got called down to the principal’s office three times. That’s got to be some sort of record. But Jane wouldn’t take kindly to any one of her little chicks being criticized, so I keep my thoughts to myself.

  “The counselor, Mr. Hendricks, left a message saying he had some things he needed to go over with Maggie’s family before the end of the year. I have can’t make it tomorrow and it’s the last day before the holidays. I’m sure it’s just paperwork or something.”

  The counselor’s name takes me back to high school. Hendricks was the counselor then too and lost his shit when I told him I wanted to drop out of school. He didn’t care that I was leaving to run a business that netted a quarter million a year. He wanted me to keep playing sports, football especially, and to get a scholarship to some D1 school. Preferably UT Austin.

  I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, catching up a little. While I’m at it, I can make sure my girl’s walking the straight and narrow. I’m fairly certain she’s behaving herself but it never hurts to make sure.

  “What’s Maggie going to say about me stepping in for you?”

  Jane smiles. “I’m sure she won’t mind a bit.”

  I seriously doubt that but I’m happy to go with it. Ever since she got her license, she’s driven herself to school. Jane got a new mini-van and gave her old one to Maggie. Most girls would complain about driving a mom-car to school but not Maggie. She was so damn happy to have her own vehicle. First thing she did was clean it inside and out, joking that she needed a HazMat suit to handle the mess left by the boys.

  A loud crash comes from the back of the shop, followed by cursing. Will, one of my mechanics, storms into my office.

  “Gonna need the first-aid kit. Busted my motherfucking thumb.”

  He holds up his thumb to show me a gash.

  “In the bathroom. Watch your mouth. My sister-in-law’s here.”

  Will jerks his head around Jane’s direction. “Sorry ma’am.”

  “Oh, that’s fine, honey. Do you need help?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  He disappears down the hallway and a moment later I hear the water running.

  I finish the last of my sandwich and toss the wrapper into the garbage. Jane’s been chit-chatting about Christmas and the boys and what a big help it is to have Maggie driving. As much as I love talking with Jane, I need to get back to work. The guy who runs my office is out for a month, visiting his daughter in Florida. I’m up to my ass in alligators without Mel answering the phone and scheduling clients and whatnot.

  “What else can I do for you?” I ask, hoping not to sound too rude.

  “You can give me a Christmas present.”

  The look in her eye is calculating, and I have the feeling I’m about to walk into a very well-laid trap. Jane’s the kindest person in the world so it won’t be a trap that is too awful. Probably. Hopefully.

  “I already got you something.”

  Her lips thin. “Take it back. I want this more.”

  “Come on, Jane. Just tell me, already.”

  She leans forward and speaks in a hushed tone. “There’s a new neurologist in town. I spent the morning Googling him. He’s Mayo-trained.”

  I push up from my chair. This conversation. Again. Jane’s relentless.

  “Jane, I’m not having surgery. I’m fine. I have some pain a few times a month but it’s not anything I can’t handle.”

  “I’d go with you. Help you every step of the way. Wes says he’d take time off to run the garage while you recuperate. Maggie would help too.”

  I curl my hands into fists. “You told Maggie?”

  She purses her lips at my show of irritation. My sister-in-law might look like an easy-going homemaker. Mild-mannered and all that, but under that soft exterior is a woman of steel.

  “I know you want to save the world, Jane, but you don’t need to worry about me.”

  She jumps to her feet, her eyes blazing. “You had one doc give you his opinion. A surgeon who had his license revoked.”

  “What?”

  “Dr. Wilson. I Googled him too.”

  I shake my head and put my jacket back on. If I get into an argument with General Jane, I’ll get a headache and won’t be worth shit for the rest of the day.

  “Tristan…”

  Groaning, I rub the back of my neck. Jane only who calls me by my given name when she shifts into mother-bear mode and the only way to deal with it is to wait her out. Her eyes get big with a soft look that is sort of endearing unless it’s directed at you.

  “I want you to have a normal life,” she says quietly. “A family of your own. Kids. All that.”

  Her face flushes with emotion. She assumes that everyone wants what she wants. That I live some tragic existence. Just because I have this injury that gives me hell every so often doesn’t mean I’m miserable. She probably worries about it more than me.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say.

  She follows me out the door without reply. Her quiet doesn’t mean she’s giving up, it’s just her preparing for another round. Maybe not today, but someday.

  “Tell Maggie that I’m coming to the school in your place,” I say, heading back into the shop.

  “I’ll think about it.” Her response is clipped, with the tone she uses if she’s put out with one of the boys.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maggie

  The next day I go to school with my hair down and straightened. I’m thinking of washing the dye out and giving up being a blackhead. I’m not trying to conform or anything, I’m just tired of black. Also, I need to make a good impression with teachers if I want to make something happen with college.

  To put a smile on Jane’s face, I wear a pair of jeans she bought me. Even Wes, who’s usually pretty clueless, noticed the change, telling me I looked just like the all-American girl now. He drops me off at school that morning so he can take my van to get new tires.

  “Go get ‘em tiger,” he yells through the open window before pulling away.

  Some of the girls at school don’t approve of my new look. Tough girls who threatened to mix it up with me a time or two before, sneer, and one gives me a shove after first period. Fuck them. I don’t care. I’m playing a game. I need my teachers to give me letters of recommendations if I want a scholarship.

  Just before lunch I get called down to the office.

  “What did you do now?” one of the football players asks.

  His friends snicker and mutter under their breath. I smile as I pass. It’s a fake, icy smile, but the jock’s eyes widen and he gives me a dopey look. “Hey.”

  I step out of the classroom, swing my backpack to my shoulder and when I round the corner, I crash into Kyle.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Kyle.”

  He looks at me in disbelief, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “Very funny.”

  Grasping a strand of my hair, he rubs the ends between his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t believe you didn’t warn me. Did Jane give you a make-over?”

  “No. I did it myself. Quit being a dork and walk me to Mr. Hendrick’s office.”

  He falls into step beside me. “I heard you were leaving. I figured it was just a rumor.”

  My heart seizes
in my chest. Leaving? Kyle doesn’t say anything more, just shrugging. Frantically I go over the events of the past few weeks. Nothing happened at school. I haven’t been in trouble since September. Nothing happened at home. I’ve been super-helpful, running errands for her and cooking dinner every night.

  My throat tightens with a familiar panic. I’m moving. Again. Jane and Wes just pretended to care for me. I’ll have to finish my senior year at yet another high school.

  “What did you hear?” I manage, my voice cracking.

  “Don’t freak out, Maggie. I heard him talking to his aide when I was there this morning to reschedule taking my SAT. Mom’s making me try again. Anyway, he sounded pleased.”

  “Pleased? Fuck. My. Life.”

  “Look. Relax. I probably heard wrong.”

  I stop outside Hendrick’s door. A ball of anger rolls around my chest, like a giant sphere of shit. A shit ball. That’s what I’ve been handed. Why wouldn’t Jane say something, anything? Why would she let me find this out from someone at school?

  “Call me this afternoon,” Kyle says. “Give me the scoop.”

  He keeps walking and I watch him till he disappears around the corner. He has no idea what I’m going through right now. Sometimes I think he resents me and how easy school is for me. His mother told him that if a foster kid can get straight A’s, there’s no reason he can’t do better. Right now, I hate her too.

  I yank the door open. The waiting area is empty and the secretary talks on the phone. Dropping my back pack to the ground, I resist the urge to kick the chair. The secretary smiles at me and motions to the chair. Sinking to the seat, I grit my teeth. I fucking hate uncertainty.

  Mr. Hendricks talks to someone in his office. Why the hell did he call me down if he had someone else in his office? He blathers on about some wide-receiver who caught a game-winning pass. The door is cracked and I can see the work boots that belong to the other person. Black oil streaks on tanned leather, worn out brass eyelets for the shoe strings, frayed edges on the jeans.

  A strange feeling comes over me. The stranger crosses his legs at the ankles and when he begins speaking, I realize it’s Trig. Without thinking, I jerk to my feet. What in the actual fuck is going on?