Sweet Dandelion

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “She wouldn’t want you to be miserable.”

  He drops his head in his hands then lowers them slowly, looking at me with tear-filled hazel eyes. “I’m not … I’m not miserable, Dani. You wouldn’t understand how nasty and cutthroat this world can be.”

  I feel like I’ve been stabbed. I screw my nail polish cap on tight and slide off the stool. His brows furrow as he watches me pick up my stuff.

  Holding my things in my hands I look across the counter at him. “Yeah, Sage, me of all people knows absolutely nothing about this cold, cruel world.”

  He straightens, horror contorting his face.

  “Dani, I—”

  I turn away, heading to my bedroom. Over my shoulder I say, “I ordered Indian.”

  I hear his footsteps behind me but as soon as I reach my room I close and lock the door.

  He stops on the other side.

  He doesn’t knock.

  He doesn’t say anything.

  Because he can’t.

  He can’t make this better.

  He can’t take back his words.

  He can’t bring Mom back.

  I stare at the door and I realize this is what my entire existence is going to be like from now on.

  There’s always going to be a wall separating me from everyone else, because they’ll never understand the true horror of what I survived.

  The sad thing is how often these things are happening, the number of deaths mounting, the survivors living with guilt, but we’re being forgotten, because at the end of the day we’re nothing.

  The food arrives and Sage knocks on my door.

  “D? The food is here. Please … fuck, please come out.”

  Clutching my pillow to my chest, I close my eyes. I don’t like fighting with Sage. He’s my brother, my best friend, the last of my family.

  I wait for the sound of his footsteps retreating before I slide off my bed, dropping the pillow onto the rumpled surface.

  Easing the door open I walk down the hall and find Sage spreading the white to-go boxes on the coffee table.

  He straightens when I enter the room, hands on his hips. He exhales a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Dani. I shouldn’t have said that. Work has been rough and I’m a little testy. Snapping at you was wrong.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  He wraps me in his arms, hugging me tight. He rests the side of his cheek against the top of my head.

  “You’re all I have left in this world, D. We have to stick together.”

  I hold on tighter to him.

  He releases me from the hug, but keeps a hold on my shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, only stares at me like he’s trying to memorize my features.

  Finally, he lets go and takes a step back, clearing his throat.

  “Let’s uh eat then.”

  He grabs waters from the fridge and we sit on the floor in front of the coffee table.

  “Want to put a movie on?” I ask him, opening the tops on the to-go boxes.

  “Sure. Pick whatever you want.”

  He hands me the remote and I scroll through the options On Demand.

  “Twilight!” He cries indignantly. “You’re still pissed aren’t you?”

  I drop the remote in my lap. “I happen to love these movies even if I’ve never read the books.”

  He blows out a breath and pulls one of the boxes closer to him, digging into the steaming contents. “The whole first movie is blue he grumbles.”

  “It’s supposed to look dreary and rainy,” I defend, taking a bite of food.

  I feel his eyes on me as the movie begins with Bella’s opening monologue.

  “I can’t believe I already had to sit through these years ago when you were like twelve, but now? I’m wounded.”

  “You said I could choose.” I point my fork at him in reminder.

  He frowns. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be quiet.”

  I doubt he will, but I appreciate the gesture. I wanted to put a comfort movie on and this franchise reminds me of better, happier times.

  When the movie is halfway finished Sage packs up the leftover food and puts it away. I move onto the couch, curling under a blanket, and I’m more than a little surprised when Sage joins me, sitting down on the opposite end.

  I sit up, fighting a grin. “Wait, are you willingly watching the rest of Twilight with me?”

  He rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath before crossing his arms defensively. “I’m invested now.”

  “But you’ve seen it before.”

  “Shut up,” he grumbles good-naturedly.

  I lay back down, burrowing under the blanket.

  When the movie is over I start the next one and Sage doesn’t make any move to leave.

  We watch all of the second one before deciding to head to bed. It’s after midnight, but I’m not all that sleepy. I pretend I am anyway.

  We head to our separate bedrooms but Sage stops me before I can go in mine.

  “Yeah?” I blink up at him.

  He presses his lips together and swallows. “We have to stick together, Weed.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Always, Herb.”

  He smiles back and I go into my room, closing the door behind me.

  Herb and Weed.

  They’re ridiculous nicknames we used to call each other years ago when we were little and constantly pestering each other. Sage said I was an annoying weed, always getting in his way, and I said if I was Weed then he was Herb. It’s been a long time since either of us have used those nicknames, but tonight it’s good to hear them.

  Chapter Ten

  Sitting at the kitchen counter I stuff a spoonful of Captain Crunch in my mouth. Sage is already dressed, whereas I’m still chilling in my PJs, and rinses off a glass in the sink, scrubbing it so no residue of sticky orange juice clings to it.

  “I have to run some errands today. You wanna go?”

  “No.” I always try to pass on the weekends. Sage makes it a point to ask me, but I want him to be able to leave the condo and do things with friends or whatever without me tagging along.

  “You sure? I’m going to get some groceries, so write down whatever you want on the list.”

  “What list?”

  He passes me his phone, open to the notepad. I have to laugh. Of course Sage would keep the list in his phone and not on an actual piece of paper.

  I add a couple of items, only because I know it makes him feel better to have things in the house that I like.

  “Have any plans with friends?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “Sage,” I sigh, passing his phone back to him. He tucks it in his front pocket. “I know you have friends here. Go do something with them. Don’t let me stop you.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He truly doesn’t seem bothered but I’m bothered by it. Sage built a whole life before he got stuck with me. That shouldn’t stop because I’m here.

  “You should date. Surely you were dating before I moved in.”

  He blows out a breath. “You don’t need to worry about that, Dani.”

  “All I’m saying is you’re a guy … you have needs, go forth and conquer.”

  His mouth parts and he chokes. “No, no, no. Take that back. I don’t want you to ever talk about my needs or conquering anything ever again. You’re my little sister. No.” His whole body shakes like he’s having a seizure, but really he’s trying to rid himself of the icky feeling.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” I pester, getting up to clean my empty bowl. “I’m eighteen. I know things.”

  He bumps into me and I nearly drop the bowl on the floor. Some milk tips over the lip, splattering onto it instead.

  “You should know absolutely nothing. You’re too young.”

  I snort. “Oh, Sage. That’s adorable.”

  Stepping around him I set down the bowl in the sink and grab a paper towel to wipe up the mess from the floor.

  “I want to pretend this whole conversation never happened,�
�� he grumbles, walking back to his room.

  I laugh to myself. “Boys.”

  A minute later, he leaves his room, car keys in hand.

  “Hang out with your friends, please.” He pauses at the door, looking over at me. I hop up on the kitchen counter, crossing my arms over my middle. “I know you’re worried about me, and don’t want me to be alone, but it makes me feel horrible that I’m keeping you from your life.” He opens his mouth to protest. “I know you’re fine being here with me, but it bothers me because I know you would normally be doing other things.” I can tell he’s still not convinced. He’s doing what he thinks is right, and I get that, but I don’t want to feel like this constant burden that he always has to be concerned with. “Besides,” I hop down, “I’ve made a couple of friends at school. I was thinking about seeing if one of them could hang out.”

  He exhales a weighted breath. “I’ll see if any of my friends are free.”

  “Thank you.”

  He points a finger at me in warning. “If you go out, I need to know what time, who you’re with, what you’re doing, and what time you’ll be back.”

  “Of course.” I won’t even argue with him on all those details, because I know it stems from fear. I’d be the same way.

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

  He heads out and I hop in the shower. I hadn’t planned to actually use Ansel’s number, but now I feel guilty not to.

  Once I’m dressed I send him a text.

  Me: Hey, it’s Dani. Are you free today?

  Ansel: Holy shit. You used my number. Are pigs flying? Let me go look out the window.

  Me: Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re not funny.

  Ansel: Bet you’re smiling.

  Me: I’m not.

  I am.

  Ansel: I’m free. What do you want to do?

  Me: I don’t know. I’m not from here.

  Ansel: What? How did I not know that? I thought you were from here. The school’s huge so I never thought to ask. Where are you from?

  Me: Oregon.

  Ansel: Shit. That’s cool. Anyway, there’s plenty to do around here. Can I pick you up?

  Me: Yeah, that’d be great.

  I send him my address and he tells me he’ll be by to pick me up in thirty minutes.

  I blow-dry my damp hair the rest of the way. I don’t bother styling it, instead leaving it in its natural beachy wave. Grabbing what I need, I head down to the lobby to wait.

  The lobby of the building has shiny tile floors and black and chrome accents. It’s modern and cold in my opinion, but I suppose beautiful in its own way.

  Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket I walk with my head bowed to wait outside for Ansel. There’s an area for him to pull up, like at a hotel.

  Before I reach the double doors to exit, something makes me look up.

  Call it a sixth sense, or a coincidence, it doesn’t matter.

  “Mr. Taylor,” I blurt out in surprise.

  He looks up from his phone, rearing back when he sees me.

  “Dani?” He fumbles with his phone, finally stuffing it in his pocket.

  We stand maybe two feet apart, both confused and unsure what to say.

  I speak first. “You live here?”

  “Yeah. I take it you do, too?”

  I nod. “I live here with my brother.”

  “Is he around?”

  “No, he left to run some errands. I’m actually hoping he’ll hang out with his friends.” Mr. Taylor arches a brow and I explain, “He’s neglected his social life since, you know, he got saddled with me. I don’t want to stop him from living his life.”

  “I’m sure you don’t keep him from anything.”

  “Believe me, I do.” I look down at my yellow vans. Bright against the black tile. “Have you met him yet?” I force my eyes up to meet his gaze. “He said you asked for a meeting.”

  He shakes his head. “We haven’t scheduled anything yet.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Do you not want us to meet?” He doesn’t sound accusatory, only curious.

  I tell him the same thing I told Sage. “You said I could trust you. I want to know I can.”

  “I won’t tell your brother anything we talk about. That’s … I would never do that to you or any student.”

  “Right. Thank you.” He adjusts a pair of glasses on his nose and because I hate awkward situations, I blurt, “I didn’t know you wear glasses.”

  He’s totally Clark Kent now.

  “Oh, yeah,” he touches the side of them, “I try to give my eyes a break from contacts on the weekend.”

  “You look nice.” I wince. “I meant they look nice.”

  He chuckles, but I want to crawl under the nearest table and hide.

  Behind him I see the green car pull up that Ansel told me to watch for. “My friend is here. I better go.”

  He steps to the side, out of my way. I take a few steps before he says my name.

  “Yeah?” I turn around.

  “I’m happy to see you’re making friends. It’s good for you.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I know.”

  It feels impossible to break contact from his intense stare, but somehow I manage to do it.

  Climbing inside Ansel’s car, he gives me a quizzical look. “Who was that?”

  “No one.” I pull the seatbelt across my body as he slides the gear into drive. “It was no one.”

  “Okay, this place is cool.” I spin in a circle, looking around the coffee shop Ansel brought me to.

  Watchtower Coffee & Comics is a simple place. The walls are a light gray, except for part of one that’s a chalkboard. Up top it says Watchtower and below it is the menu. The floors are concrete and there are plenty of tables to sit at and some comfy chairs if you want to grab one of the comics to curl up and read.

  “Glad you like it.” Ansel gets in line behind three other people and I join him.

  “You don’t strike me as the comic book kind of guy.”

  His dark brow arches. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

  I shrug. “The tortured artsy type who smokes behind the school and has a trashcan full of unfinished poems.”

  He busts out laughing, causing a few people working on their computers to turn and look at us. “That was very specific.”

  “I have a vivid imagination.” I look at the menu. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything.”

  “That’s not helpful.”

  “It’s true.” We move up in line.

  “We’re only stopping here, though. Now that I know you’re not from here, it’s time to open your eyes to what the city has to offer. Oh, and I only smoke on occasion. Don’t tell my mom.”

  “I don’t know your mom.”

  “Yeah, but you will.”

  I shake my head at his cockiness.

  It’s finally our turn to place our order. Ansel insists on paying mine even though I refuse. I’m learning he’s even more stubborn than I am.

  We don’t have to wait long for our order. I take a sip of the BB-8 boba tea I ordered and exclaim, “This is the best thing ever!” A couple of laughs echo through the shop.

  Ansel shakes his head, trying not to smile at my antics.

  “Come on, Meadows. Much to see, much to do.”

  He grabs his Tatoonie Sunrise—a frozen coffee—and leads me onto the street.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “Well,” he sips his coffee, “that’s my favorite coffee shop. Now we’re going to my favorite place in the city.”

  “Which is?”

  He wags a finger. “This is a show game, not tell.”

  “Any hint?”

  “It involves something you already know about me.”

  My forehead wrinkles as I try to think about everything I know about him so far. “It doesn’t involve smoking does it?” I think back to his comment in the coffee shop. “My brother will kill me if I come home smelling like smoke.” I flinch
at my own words. It’s such a simple phrase of words, one I would normally use without second-thought. But now it feels crass.

  “I’m wounded that you think so little of me.” Considering he’s grinning, I think his ego is hardly bruised at all. “No, it does not involve smoking. You’re such a hater.”

  “Hey,” I bump his shoulder with mine, “someone has to keep you humble.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” he plays coy.

  “Mhmm, Mr. Popular.”

  He guffaws, throwing his head back. “I’m not popular.”

  “Okay, so maybe you’re not in the jock, cheerleader crowd but you are popular. People like you. I see people stop you in the halls to talk.”

  He busts out laughing, lowering his head to my ear as we walk. “That’s because I’m their dealer, Meadows.”

  “What?” I stumble, nearly face planting on the ground. His warm hand wraps around my elbow and prevents me from eating the pavement. “You’re a drug dealer?” I hiss, yanking my arm from his hold.

  He doesn’t seem at all bothered by my proclamation. “Say it a little louder for the people in the back.” He winks, lifting his coffee cup in toast. “It’s only pot. It’s harmless.”

  “Wait, I thought it was legal here?”

  He shakes his head. “Not for recreational use.”

  “So … that’s why people are always stopping you?”

  “Yup.” He pops the p and pouts his lips.

  “You could get in trouble.” As if he doesn’t already know this.

  “I could get in trouble for a lot of things, but rules were meant for breaking.”

  “This isn’t a rule, Ansel. This is a law.”

  “Worried about me?” We stop at a crosswalk and he pushes the button for the pedestrian lights.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Don’t be. But don’t tell anyone.” He narrows his eyes on me. “Snitches get stitches.”

  I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

  I shake my head, my hair swaying around my bare shoulders. I opted to wear a tank top because I know the cold weather is going to be rolling in soon. “I wouldn’t do that.”