I laughed.
Mom put a hand on my arm. “Please, guys, not tonight.”
“Guys?” I asked. “What the hell did I do?”
“You know what you did,” John said. “You were supposed to look after your brother.”
“Stepbrother,” I growled. I moved toward John. “Look after him? When did that become my job? When you messed up his head so that all he thought about was football and forgot about common sense?”
“Boy, don’t make me put this glass down and step up to you,” John said. “Time and place, Trev.”
“I made roast and potatoes,” Mom said. “Come on, it’s all ready to go.”
She was the master of ignoring problems. It was her greatest trait. That’s why she wound up with the guy who got her pregnant and took off. That’s why she got together with John. She could tolerate his bullshit and just ignore it.
I rubbed my jaw. “Yeah. That sounds good, Mom. Roast and potatoes. Sounds really good.”
“Heath loved that meal,” John said. “She’d make it before every big game.”
He turned and slipped back into the den.
I looked over at Mom.
Her eyes were glossy.
“Ah, fuck, Mom,” I whispered. “Maybe I should just go.”
She took hold of my wrist. “No. I can’t lose you now either.”
That’s when I felt some guilt.
Shit, if she only knew what was happening with Becca… that would be the last flick of the finger to the house of cards that she called life, huh?
I walked to the fancy dining room and looked at the long table.
There were eight chairs in total, and the only time they were all ever used was during the holidays. And it was always John’s family. He had three brothers and a sister. A big extended family that took Mom in as one of their own, but looked at me like I was being done a favor by living there.
Mom had all the food on the table for dinner. She’d worked too hard for this. For some random Tuesday night dinner. It was way too much, but it was Mom’s way of grieving.
My eyes went from the food on the table to the chair where Heath used to sit. Right next to the head of the table, at John’s left. Where they’d sit and talk about football, plays, Heath’s blindside, all that jock shit.
John entered the room, his scotch glass looking fuller than before.
He walked along the table and put his hand to Heath’s chair. He gripped it tightly for a few seconds, staring right at me.
The tension between me and John had been present from day one. I didn’t fit the mold of his clean-cut, chiseled chin, snake eyed family that he grew up with. There were plenty of times I’d heard him suggesting to Mom that I should go and live with my real father for a while. Then I became some a sort of fucking protector for Heath. No matter how many times me and Heath tried to figure our shit out as stepbrothers, John was there to drive a new wedge between us. And it was no lie that John’s eyes told the real truth… that he wished that it were me driving the car. Or that the car had hit the tree at a different angle so that I was dead.
“This looks delicious, Mom,” I said, staring at John as I pulled my chair back from the table.
“Yeah, it does,” John said.
He took his seat at the head of the table and sat there with a cocky grin on his face, looking like Heath. Shit, if Heath were still alive and made it to his fifties, he’d look just like John.
Mom hurried to serve John, putting a chunk of roast on his plate and cutting it like he was a kid.
I just sat there and took it all in.
“So, how’s work?” Mom asked, turning and smiling at me.
“Busy,” I said. “Jerry runs a tight ship, but it’s good. Keeps things moving.”
“So that’s the big career, huh?” John asked. “Turning a wrench until your hands can’t move?”
“Better than getting smashed in the head a hundred times, hoping to make a few million before your brain quits,” I said.
John laughed. “See that, Donna, he doesn’t need some trade school. He’s street tough. He’s a smart mouth. He knows everything.”
Mom sat down and forced a weak smile. She looked at my empty plate and jumped right back up.
I did the same and reached for her wrist. “Mom, I can cut my own dinner. I’m not seven anymore.”
She smirked.
“You know, this is all she has,” John said. “Trying to be a good homemaker. This was our time to get things in order for the next step in life.”
I looked at John again. “And what’s that, John? A fresh bottle of scotch? Some luxury car to make up for the fact that your dick can’t get hard anymore without pills?”
“You little fucker,” John growled.
He stood up and grabbed a knife. Almost too instinctively.
Mom gasped and covered her mouth.
“You know what, Mom, I think I’m going to take this to go tonight,” I said. “I’m really sorry, but there’s this thing I was invited to. I should show my face.”
“Trev, don’t…”
“It’s okay,” I said with a nod. “Matt is having it. I really didn’t want to go, but I should. At least to be there for him.”
Mom nodded. “For Heath?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Maybe I can do some good for once and tell people not to drink and drive.”
“Maybe tell them what you really did that night,” John added. “How’s that, boy? Tell them that you let my son get into that car. Knowing he was drunk. Tell them how you killed your own brother.”
“John!” Mom finally snapped.
“That’s right, Donna,” John said. “Take his side. At least you have your son to take sides with.”
John snatched up his glass and walked away.
My heart ached a little, looking at the large dinner Mom had cooked. I knew what she’d wanted in life. She’d wanted me and Heath to grow up as best friends. She’d wanted me and Heath to become happy and successful. She’d wanted me and Heath to bring home grandkids for her to spoil.
That shit was all gone now. Gone long before Heath died.
“Let me make you a plate,” Mom said in a dry voice.
I stood at the front door, feeling like a stranger in the house that I grew up in. I shot off a text to Matt, letting him know that I’d stop by his place for a little bit. I was tired of the tributes to Heath, but I guess I had to be there. I thought I could sneak out of this one because of dinner at the house, but that was a joke. I wasn’t going to sit there with John and endure that bullshit.
Mom came to the door with a plastic container full of food that was wrapped up tightly. She’d even put two chocolate chip cookies in a baggie for me on top.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said.
“Oh, I love you, Trev,” she said. She touched my face. “I’m… really sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t take it personally.”
“I know. And I’m just sorry for everything. I mean that. Everything.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Mom.”
I leaned down and kissed her cheek.
I had to turn away quickly because I hated to see her cry.
* * *
Hey -
I know it’s been a while since I wrote. It’s just hard right now. I don’t mean that as an excuse, even though that’s exactly what it is. See, this thing is hard for me because I feel like him. I feel like everything I’m not supposed to be. Everything I promised I wouldn’t be. Yet I don’t know if you even understand that. You might have gotten a different version of him. I really hope that’s true. Even though it does sometimes make me jealous to think about. But you’re cool though. And you deserve it.
I wish I had some good and cool stuff to share right now. But I don’t. I mean, right now, I’m just trying to work and see what happens next. It’s funny how things work out in life. It’s been rough for a little while. I’d like to talk to you about it in person. I’m sure he already knows and probably has his though
ts about it. Again, I can’t argue and step in on anyone. This entire letter is too confusing for you to get. That’s why I haven’t written anything in a little while. I feel like I’ve lost my voice to connect with you. I want to just scream right now. I want to tell you the truth and… well… maybe it would crush you like it crushed me. Then we can be crushed together. That’s not fair to you.
I’m not sending this letter. I’m going to finish writing it and I’m going to burn it. Well, not burn it, but rip it up. Throw it the fuck out and pretend like I’d never fucking wrote this. Because I would never send you a letter with the word fuck in it. So fuck this letter. Fuck the dinner my mother gave to me that’s sitting on the passenger seat of my truck. Fuck the party I have to go to. And you know what? Fuck our father. You may never understand it, but believe me… fuck that guy.
Check you later,
Trev
Chapter 4
Serafina
Dear YOU,
OMG, this is all so confusing right now. This is why I need you here with me. Honestly. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know? I know that’s wrong to say. I know that if I’d said that to anyone else they would’ve slapped me across the face. And I mean an open hand slap across the face. And I would deserve it for thinking what I’m thinking right now. But I need you here with me. Coming here is so totally confusing. It’s, at the same time, everything and nothing like I thought it would be. The only thing really missing here is you. I sort of promised myself that I would do everything twice… once for me, once for you.
Things are hard. I don’t know how else to say it. I think I’ve met someone I sort of like. But there’s nothing right about it. At first, I loved him. I mean, like true love almost. That crazy connection. It’s different now though. Now that things are… you know… happening. I don’t get it. In some way though, I kind of look forward to it. It’s comfort for me now. Because you’re not here to tell me I’m wrong. You’re not here to slap me across the face and yell at me. Sometimes I wonder if I really did something stupid enough, you’d show up. Remember when we were kids and we believed that anything was possible? We used to focus on the same star at night and wish so hard on it for anything we wanted. And a lot of times, it came true. But now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure your mom was watching us. So she would hurry up and get us whatever we wanted to make us believe that our wishes did come true.
There aren’t enough stars for what I wish for. And there’s nothing I can do to have you here. But you could at least let me know that things are okay. You could at least give me a sign. You could at least write back to me. I mean, I know it’s… and you’re… but, come on. Please. I’m not going to stop sending you letters either. You know I can’t. You know you’re going to smile because of me. And I know that when that happens, you’re going to write back to me.
Love,
Serafina
* * *
I bit my lip and checked my phone again.
Still no call.
I turned and Hailey stood in the doorway to my room. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Mystery Man not calling tonight?”
“Shut up.”
“You know how hard it is not to go through your phone and find out who this is?” Hailey asked.
“I would never talk to you again,” I warned.
She giggled and walked away.
That thought had occurred to me several times. What would happen if my dirty secret became exposed. It was wrong, but not that wrong. We were both adults. It wasn’t something new either. It had been going on for a while now. Even still, he warned me of how much trouble he could get into. I didn’t want him to lose his job. And I didn’t want to lose somewhere I felt comfortable. So we had a lot of precautions in place to keep our secret just that.
The last thing I felt like doing was going to another party. This one was supposed to be different, a group of us getting together to remember Heath. He was the football player who died in the car accident while driving drunk. There seemed to be a party every week for him, but I always managed to get out of it. Either because I had work, or I had a secret date. Well, they were never really dates with him. It was just me sneaking to his house. We’d talk about books, movies, like real intelligent conversations. And then… well…
“You ready?” Hailey’s voice called out.
I tucked my phone into my pocket.
I hurried out of my room and we were off. It was nice to live off campus, but I made sure to live close enough so that I could walk anywhere I needed. In fact, the only time I drove was to go to his house.
Hailey and I walked shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk.
“Isn’t it a little crazy that we’re going to a party for a guy who was drunk and died? I mean, you know, isn’t everyone going to be drinking?” she asked.
“It’s something,” I said. “I just think everyone is in shock. Maybe they’ve never had to deal with that kind of reality in life yet.”
“Look at you,” Hailey said. “You bang an older guy for a few months and now you talk like you’re an old head.”
I laughed. “Thanks.”
“Just the truth,” she said. “Hey, what I don’t get… why the secret still? I mean, you said he goes here. Who cares if he’s older? What are you worried about?”
“Nothing,” I said, casually lying. “It’s just our thing.”
“When people say that, it’s usually bullshit. Or maybe he’s with someone and using you on the side.”
I glanced at Hailey and rolled my eyes.
“Is that it? No. You know about it. You know he’s taken. You’re a willing whore…”
“No,” I said. “Jesus, Hailey. It’s honestly none of your business.”
“Right. None of my business. Sorry I brought it up.”
“You should be.”
“Well, if this is just some secret fling, are you allowed to bang other guys?”
“Allowed?” I asked. “Meaning I have to ask for permission?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”
“What’s going on?” a voice asked.
It was Jessie. She trotted across the quiet street and caught up to us.
“You tell me,” I said to Jessie, praying that the conversation would shift.
“I guess we’re going to this memorial party,” Jessie said. “Crazy, huh? Heath. I can’t believe it. So sad. And the other people made it out.”
“Matt wasn’t even hurt,” Hailey said.
“The other guy was,” Jessie said. “Heath’s stepbrother. The one that always crashes all the parties. Weird. Kind of strange how they keep having parties too. It feels like it happened, like, a year ago or something by now.”
I focused on the sidewalk, counting the blocks as I walked on them.
When we arrived at the end row house, all the lights were on. There was a red banner hanging on one side of the porch with Heath’s name on it. Some guy in a red hoodie stood there and told us that we had to sign the banner to get into the party.
“I didn’t know him,” I said.
“So what? Just write something. We’re going to send it to his dad.”
“I’m not signing that,” I said.
A surge of anger shot through me.
This dumb jock stared at me, his eyes glazed from what I first thought were tears, but then I saw the whiskey bottle at his feet.
“You’re not allowed into the party then, sweetie,” he said.
“Fuck yourself,” I said.
I swatted the marker out of his hand and backed off the front porch.
“What the hell, Sera?” Hailey asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m not signing anything. Stupid idea anyway.”
“Get her ass out of here,” the jock frat boy yelled.
“I’m already gone, moron,” I called out.
I turned and walked down the sidewalk.
I turned to the right and cut through the yard.
By the time I got to the side of the house, I had to stop and catch my breath. I touched the corners of my eyes and groaned. I hated when stuff like that made me so emotional.
I swallowed hard and shook my head.
I was left with two choices now. I could suck it up and walk back to the front door and sign that stupid banner for Heath, or I could just walk back home. Chill out in my room and catch up on some reading and studying, hoping that my phone would eventually ring. Or better yet, I could call him. As a student though. Or email him. Saying that I needed help with something.
That was desperation though. He told me not to do desperation.
I heard a noise to my right and turned my head to see a huge scuffle going down. I counted four guys, all of them looking like they were pushing each other. All yelling over each other. My eyes went wide as more people showed up. Like a dumb fight in high school. One of the guys broke away from the rest and waved a hand.
“Fuck you,” he yelled.
“Get out of here,” someone yelled to him. “Way to honor your family, loser!”
I just stood there. Blocking his way.
He walked with his head down and paused. In a quick move he grabbed the hoodie he wore and ripped it up over his head. As he did, it clung to his shirt and that went up too, showing off a steel cut body that made my jaw drop a few inches.
Even in the pale light coming from the windows in the house, I could see the definition of his chest. And a tattoo that ran across it. But I couldn’t make out what it was. I started to count stomach muscles, one block at a time, my mouth suddenly going dry.
He took the hoodie completely off and pulled his shirt back down. That’s when he stopped and looked right at me.
I saw dark hair, dark eyes, and blood on the corner of his lip.
He balled up the hoodie and wiped his mouth.
“What?” he asked me.
His voice rippled through me.
And for a few seconds, I completely forgot who I was.
EVERYTHING WRONG WITH US_a novel by: Page 3