Chapter 20 #2
money for it. Pension will see me through for a long while. Body’s breaking down at forty-one. Don’t know what I'll do, but
I’m done doing this.
April 30, 1995: Last day at work. Packed up Gold Yeller and filled the bed with all my books. Crazy how many I have now. Wouldn’t
part with any of them. Filled her with gas. Heading for Pecan Corner, Ohio. Decided to land there. Bought a building. Still
not sure what I’m gonna do with it. But I gotta get out of here.
November 5, 1996: Been in Pecan Corner for eight months now.
People are friendly here. Met some lawyer named Bennett the other day.
Wants to do lunch next Tuesday. I’ll think about it.
Decided to open a bookstore. Second Chapter Books.
Has a nice ring to it. Don’t care if it makes money, I just need someplace to store my books.
If people like them, fine. If not, at least I can move around my apartment again.
Leo gaped. The apartment had been even more cluttered before Second Chapter? It was also interesting how random Earl was with
his entries, chronological but sporadic. He turned the page.
June 21, 1997: Watched the same WWII documentary for the sixth time. Still catching details I missed before, mostly about
the tanks. Will watch it again the next time it comes on.
August 25, 1998: Sent Mom her monthly check. Maybe she’ll call and thank me. Maybe she won’t.
August 30, 1999: Bought a new pack of socks today. Old ones were threadbare.
February 21, 2000: Barb at the salon keeps asking when I’ll let her cut my hair. Told her there’s not enough to cut anymore,
and the rest I can trim myself. I think she’s trying to set me up with Ms. Abernathy, who has a weekly appointment at 9 a.m.
every other Friday.
February 28, 2003: Returned from Philly after Dad’s funeral.
Constance didn’t attend. Tried to convince Mom to come with me.
She refused, as expected. Didn’t want to be too far from Constance, even though she hasn’t seen her in nearly a decade and has never once been invited to New York City.
Me neither, for that matter. She didn’t mention Leo.
Never does. I was gonna ask about the boy but didn’t want to open that can of worms. Must be a teenager by now.
Maybe I’ll try to get in touch with him.
We’re family, after all. Then again, maybe that’s not such a great idea.
“Meow!”
Leo’s gaze shot up from the journal as Sir Meow scratched at his door. He set the journal aside and answered the door, assuming
Via was back from church. But when he let Sir inside, he saw her door was only cracked open, something she only did when she
wasn’t home and she wanted Sir to go back and forth between their apartments.
“Via?” he said into the hallway, then waited for her response. His protective instinct kicked in and he did a quick look around
her apartment, this time not lingering like he did on his first unintentional break-in. Then he remembered Sunday family lunch.
She wouldn’t be home until later in the afternoon. Since Squeaks didn’t show up, he assumed she took the cat with her to the
Daltons’.
He turned around to see Sir waiting in his doorway, so he left Via’s door the way he found it and went back and sat on Earl’s
couch. Picking up the journal, he stared at the cover again. He would have continued if Sir hadn’t interrupted him. But he
was glad for the break. He’d spent nearly two hours reading and he was only a third of the way finished. While most of Earl’s
entries were routine slice-of-life snippets, a few of them had Leo’s mind spinning.
Sir jumped in his lap, and Leo set the journal back down, processing the last entry.
He should take some comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only person Constance treated like dirt.
Growing up, he never understood what he’d done to make her not want to be around him.
As an adult, he stopped caring, had finished building a wall around himself he wouldn’t let her penetrate. Not that she ever tried.
No, he wasn’t feeling comfort. He was feeling cheated. From all accounts, even his own, Earl seemed like a decent man. A good
one actually, and one Leo wished he’d gotten to know. He had wondered about his grandparents too. His father’s parents had
died before Leo was born, and Constance never talked about hers.
He stilled, long-buried memories coming to the surface. Christmases past, when he’d gotten more gifts than a child needed—mostly
from Santa, a few from his parents—there was always one that didn’t have a tag on it that Constance could barely stand to
watch him open. The gifts never matched the others he’d gotten—expensive toys that were more for show than for play. But that
one gift each year, inexpensive but thoughtful, had been his favorite. Neither of his parents ever said who they were from.
Sir Meow put his paw on top of Leo’s hand, signaling he wanted to be petted. Leo absently stroked his fur. Were those presents
from Earl? Or his maternal grandparents? He often thought they might be from whatever nanny had been employed at the moment,
but he found out later they weren’t allowed to give him gifts.
A lump formed in his throat and he instantly swallowed it, overlooking the sharpness. He glanced around the apartment. Thought
about Via being with her family right now, eating takeout or something Gayla probably made. Maybe Dora brought a meal. Was
Charlie there? The lump reappeared, along with an ache in his chest.
Leonardo Brewster was used to being alone.
He’d been an only child, spent most of his time with adult nannies and tutors until boarding school, where he’d been the four-eyed weirdo who didn’t fit in.
After his expulsion, he was determined not to be an outsider again.
He learned how to adjust, how to relate to his father, how to turn on the charm and navigate social situations with ease.
Through all that, he still remained alone.
Lived alone. Worked alone, except when he had to interact with people.
Even his workouts were done alone—swimming and running.
And for the most part, he was perfectly fine with the solitude.
But right now, in his uncle’s apartment and surrounded by his uncle’s things, while also thinking about Via and her great
family . . . he felt lonely. Excruciatingly lonely.
“Meow?”
Leo looked up again, noticing his eyes were burning. He rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger, then watched Squeaks saunter
into the apartment. Guess she’d been at Via’s after all. The current Pawsitive Vibes Naughty Cat of the Week jumped on the
couch, then nestled herself on the opposite side of Sir Meow, who didn’t seem to mind. Both cats’ motors were running as he
pet them . . . his loneliness starting to ease.