50
Buzz
"Holy fucking shit!"
Howie sinks into the couch, shell-shocked after I break the news to him.
It was a lot to throw on my brother all at once, but since he's been out of town, I've been waiting for a chance to tell him in person that not only has our father cheated on his new wife with the same woman he cheated on Mom with, but Court's mom is now pregnant and wants Court and me to raise the child. I probably should have offered him something stronger than a Diet Coke.
He leans forward, swipes a burrito from the mountain of Mexican takeout I brought with me, inhales it, then wipes his greasy paw down the side of the couch. Since we're at his new place and not mine, I'm not freaking out about the burrito stain on the furniture. Shit like that has never bothered him like it does me. Besides, the guy is dealing with a major announcement.
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"You were gone, and I wanted to have this conversation face-to-face. Besides, I needed some time to process it myself."
"Does Dad know?"
"No."
"When is she going to tell him?"
A tight breath slips through my pursed lips.
"She isn't."
"What?"
He jerks forward in shock.
Nope, my mistake. He's grabbing another burrito.
Another big difference between us? Howie eats when he's stressed whereas I lose my appetite completely.
"As Court and I were leaving, I asked her that very question."
"How can she not tell him? He has a right to know."
"She said she doesn't want to break up his marriage."
"Yeah, well, she should have thought of that before she slept with him."
"No. He should have thought of that. He's the one with the wife and kids."
He winces.
"Shit. That's not what I meant. Of course that's on him. But come on, the guy has a right to know. Especially if she wants you and Court to raise his child."
I bury my face in my hands and groan.
"This is all such a mess."
All I hear is Howie chewing like the pig that he is as I grieve for the few glorious seconds where I pictured this as being great news. Before the cold, harsh reality set in. Even if Court decides he wants to go ahead with this, how would that even work? Could I really keep the fact that I'm raising my father's son a secret from him?
"So now what?"
Howie asks, polishing off his second burrito.
I gape at him.
"How can you be eating right now? Aren't you in shock?"
"My brain is. My stomach needs fuel. I've lost twenty pounds, and if I want to have a shot at playing next season, I need to gain that weight back."
"I have no idea what the next step is. I mean, Court's meant to be going back to Boston in less than three months. The baby won't even be born yet."
The noisy munching tapers off.
That's not a good sign. Means Howie's thinking.
My stomach twists.
"And what about you guys? How are things going?"
"What do you mean?"
He smiles at me, licking a bit of melted cheese off his palm.
"You know what I mean."
He winks at me as he continues lapping at his palm. It's clear what he's insinuating.
And it's gross.
Very, very gross.
"Stop it. I don't need that visual."
"I'm sure you and Court are doing way worse things to each other."
"Why are we even talking about this? We're in the middle of a family crisis."
"No. Our dickhead dad is in the middle of a crisis, even if he doesn't know it yet. You're a strapping young man in his sexual prime."
"What has gotten into you?"
I say, picking up a corn chip and nibbling on the corner to distract myself.
"Oh, come on,"
he chides, enjoying himself way too much.
"We tell each other everything. Well, almost everything."
His eyes gleam because we both know full well the only thing we don't discuss with each other is sex stuff. Which means that by not talking about it, I'm admitting sex stuff is happening with Court. As much fun as it is teasing Howie for being a dumb jock, it's times like these I really wish he were one.
"Okay, fine. We're sleeping together,"
I admit, grabbing a handful of chips and sliding the salsa closer. "Happy?"
"The question is, are you?"
"Mmm. This salsa is really good. Here, try some."
He ignores the salsa I slide across the coffee table and pins me with a we're not done talking about this look.
"I'm happy. But also not."
"That's because your brain overanalyzes everything."
I'm not even in the mood for an at least I have a brain retort.
"True. But this time it's not that complicated."
"How so?"
"I always push guys away because I'm too needy and clingy. Things with Court are great because I can be my needy, clingy self, and he doesn't mind."
"Because he's in love with you."
"Because he's leaving,"
I say firmly, setting him straight.
"He's not in this for the long haul. He likes it because it's something new and novel. And because it comes with an inbuilt expiration date."
"And you know all of this how?"
The question stumps me, and it takes me a few attempts to reply with.
"I just do."
"So now you're psychic?"
he asks, clearly not buying it.
"No."
"Because remember when Elsie and I were having problems, and I came to you, and you said, 'You need to talk. Communication is the key to any successful relationship,'"
he says, and I chuckle at the deep voice he puts on as he imitates me.
"And I was right."
"Yeah. We talked. Turns out she was a lying, cheating bitch. And as awful as it was to discover that, at least I was dealing with the truth and not some fantasy in my head. If you and Court aren't talking about this shit, then you're not dealing with reality. And that's kind of messed up, if you ask me."
"I know. You're right,"
I say, discarding the chips back into their container and wiping my hands clean.
Court and I need to talk.
The question is where the hell do we start?