Chapter 4
EVAN
When Ma comes home, Nate’s sitting on the living room couch with a PlayStation pad, driving into people on the sidewalk. She beams when she sees him.
“Nate, hi!”
He hits pause on the game, gets up to help her with the groceries. Must be all those Ivy League manners he's learned. Helping old ladies across the street before feeling up drunk cheerleaders at a frat party.
She tries to wave him away but it doesn’t work. “You guys go and play, I’m fine, it’s just salad. I needed a palate cleanser after all that casserole, not that I’m not grateful … ”
They’re still talking in the kitchen so I turn the game off.
I haven’t been alone in the living room since they got rid of my dad’s bed.
I’d forgot about it while Nate was here, distracting me with the stupid game.
If I look at that spot, I can see him still, propped up on some pillows, me on the couch, wondering if he’s actually watching the TV or just pretending.
I turn around and get out of there as fast as I can.
“You wanna stay for dinner, Nate?” Ma asks.
“I’d love to, but I have a meeting at school.”
“Meeting? Sounds serious,” Ma jokes.
“It’s just a fraternity thing.”
“Oh, of course.”
“Come on, frat boy,” I say. “I’ll show you out.”
“Evan, walk Nate to the bus stop,” Ma says.
“It’s okay, thanks, I have my car.”
“You haven’t left your Rolls Royce parked up in this neighborhood, have you?” I make a face and he rolls his eyes.
“Nate, do you drive a Rolls Royce?” Ma asks, eyes wide.
“No Ma, I’m just fucking with him.”
“Oh.”
He hugs her goodbye. I walk to the end of the driveway with him so I can make fun of whatever flashy-ass car he does have.
“Oh, it’s a Beemer, my mistake.”
Nate actually blushes. “I didn’t ask for it, my mom and Bryce bought it for my birthday.”
My ma’s beat up Honda sits parked in front of a garage too full of shit to use for cars.
I think about telling him he doesn’t need to explain himself to me. If I was rich, I’d be driving a BMW, too. But I don’t want to encourage him. Can’t have him coming round here any time he likes, in his fancy clothes and his expensive car, dredging up things that don’t need dredging up.
“It was good seeing you,” he says.
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck.
I turn around and walk back toward the house as he gets in his car. I need a second before facing my ma and her questions. Her happiness over Nate being here.
Nate just got lucky. Anybody would find it hard to fuck up if they had an Ivy League education all paid for and enough extracurriculars to distract them from drugs and whatever other vices people get into.
And a rich, well-connected stepdad to bail him out of trouble whenever he did fuck up. Like last time.
I take a deep breath before going into the house. Ma’s putting the salad away and I help her.
“He’s already being a good influence on you.”
“Stop it, Ma.”
“What?”
“I know you like Nate, but he’s not gonna be coming round here often.”
She makes a big deal of fluffing a pack of lettuce. “Why not?”
“He’s only here as a favor to you and because he feels sorry for me.”
She turns with the lettuce. “You don’t know that,” she says, putting it in the fridge. Under the light, I notice her nose is red and I wonder if she was crying in the car before she came into the house.
“Did you know Nate went to see Dad in the hospital?”
She nods. “He was there a few times, yeah. Why?”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
She bristles. “I thought he would have told you himself. I had my mind on other things.”
I drop my head. “‘Course, sorry.”
“He’s a nice boy.” She sighs. “I’d like you to be friends with him.”
“Instead of my friends?”
There’s a beat before she answers. “You know what I think of them. They’re losers, Ev.”
“Maybe I’m a loser?”
She scrunches her face up and I’m sorry I said anything.
“You are not a loser. You have a job, and if you wanted, you could get your GED and go to college. Those idiots don’t have two braincells to rub together.”
I snort. Ma runs her hand over my shaved head and studies me until I drop my eyes. “You used to have beautiful hair.”
“Like pretty boy Nate?” My face gets hot.
I meant to say preppy boy, not pretty boy.
“Not like Nate. Like you.”
I go up to my room and flop down on the bed.
Pretty boy Nate. That little slip of the tongue keeps running through my head. How many times did I rub one out over Nate when we were younger? He was always the kind of ‘cute’ girls would lose their shit over, but he wasn’t vain about it. It was like he didn’t even notice.
I always told myself my little crush on him when we were kids was due solely to the fact he was the boy I was closest to when I started having thoughts like that.
Not because of him. Seeing him today, I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be into him if I passed him on the street.
But I’d never sleep with someone like him.
He’s too perfect. I don’t fuck people who can judge me.
I get a text from Adam.
Meet me after work.
I know what he wants. I’ve got a new stash to sell and I need the money, so when I change into my work clothes, I stuff just enough into my steel-toe boot before putting on my Dickies and a polo with the warehouse logo stitched onto the chest. A big coat, too.
Even in the summer, it’s freezing in the warehouse.
I’d lose my job if Bob caught me with this shit at work. But I need to take the risk. The little side-hustle pays more than my minimum wage packing job, but it’s less steady, and I need steadiness too.
One of the perks of shift work is that you miss rush hour. There’s hardly anyone on the bus. A couple of teenagers sitting on the backseat listening to shitty electronic music on their iPhones. A woman my ma’s age in nurse’s scrubs, rubbing her feet and yawning.
I clock in when I get to the warehouse and put my earphones in to go and start packing at the conveyor belt when Bob steps in front of me. I take my earphones out, my music blearing.
“How are you doing, Evan?”
I shrug. “Fine.”
“How’s your mom?”
“She’s fine … ” I remember this guy’s my boss and alter my attitude. “Thanks.”
He gives me an awkward pat on the arm and I walk around him to get on with my job, but he calls me back. “Oh Evan, I know it’s a bad time, but I was just wondering if you’d thought any more about the electrician course?”
“Uh, no, sorry, I haven’t really had time-”
He holds his hands up. “No worries. Just let me know when you’ve decided, I think you’d be great for it.”
I turn my music up and try to zone out, but I’m thinking about that stupid course Bob’s been trying to get me to go on for months.
Everyone’s trying to be like those big companies now, selling the illusion that they’re more than a sweatshop paying everyone minimum wage and milking them for their cheap labor while making a CEO rich.
No matter what Bob says about me taking the opportunity for free training, I can’t see anything this place does as benefitting me.
I don’t want to roll over and be their lapdog and thank them for the chance.
After the first fifty boxes, I start to get into a rhythm and forget where I am. Some of the women talk while they work, but mostly people just look like fucking zombies, like me, busting their ass doing the same thing over and over until clocking-out time.
I get a break four hours into my shift and pour a strong coffee into a scalding hot plastic cup to keep myself awake, eat a Snickers, and check my phone.
Another text from Adam:
What time do you finish?
He must be desperate.
Eleven.
Meet you there.
I go back to my shift, on edge from the coffee and the thought of having to go out and do more work. Work that could get me into trouble if I got caught.
I clock out, in no rush for once to get out of here.
Adam’s there when I get out to the parking lot. He’s not alone. Never alone. Corey and Paddy lean on the wall, looking conspicuous as fuck. I briefly consider walking past and not looking back, but I can’t do that. I pull the collar of my coat up and hope Bob doesn’t see me meeting these guys.
Adam stands up and slaps my hand. I nod. “Hey, man.”
He licks his lips. “Shall we smoke some before we go out?”
“I’ve only got enough to sell.”
“We’ll put it back, won’t we?” He turns to Corey and Paddy and they nod.
My heart sinks. These guys aren’t exactly ‘friends’.
They don’t know shit about me. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them.
But they’re all I have outside of work and my ma and Stacie.
And then there’s the prospect of getting high.
Forgetting everything for a while. Taking a vacation from life.
“You’ve gotta put it back, though. I’ve got bills-”
“Don’t worry.” Adam pats my shoulder before looping his arm around my neck. “We won’t let you down. You need to relax man. Doesn’t he need to relax?”
Corey and Paddy nod.
I can barely keep my eyes open when we go down under the boardwalk to smoke. The stress of the day shucking off my shoulders as the weed takes effect. Making me want to curl up and go to sleep.
“Our working boy,” Paddy says, patting me on the back. They all laugh. “You don’t need the job anymore. Why don’t you just quit? It’s not like you have to pay your dad’s med bills anymore-”
“Shut the fuck up, idiot.” Adam clips him on the back of his head.
“Shit. Sorry, man.”
“Forget it.”
It doesn’t bother me, him talking like that.
Plus, he’s wrong. Just because we don’t have medical bills to pay doesn’t mean we don’t have bills.
Taking loans out was stupid. Loans aren’t medical expenses.
But we thought we could pay them. We thought we could avoid bankruptcy.
Living without credit isn’t easy when you make minimum wage.
I knew we’d need a payment plan for the funeral.
I was trying to plan ahead. But we can still pay everything off, if I just try harder.
If I stop smoking what I’m supposed to sell.
My ma’s in bed when I get home. She’s left me a sandwich under a paper towel in the kitchen with a note saying ‘eat something before bed.’
I demolish it standing up, still wearing my boots and coat.