Chapter 24 #2
Jordy opens the door a little more with big eyes and a cringey smile, shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure his mom isn’t looking. He hands the box of cereal to Caleb and shuts the door again.
“You do look kind of tired,” Jordy says. “I can put the rest away.”
“What did you do?” she asks. “Did you get in trouble at school?”
“I’m just trying to be nice.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“Well . . .” he says.
I tense. Is he really about to give us away? Caleb pauses, tilting his head.
“Well, what?” Mrs. Park asks.
“I spilled popcorn in the living room.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Baby, that’s nothing. Carpet is easy to clean.”
“But I feel really bad, so can I please put the groceries away?”
She chuckles. “If you really want to,” she says.
Who knew spilling popcorn would come in handy?
A couple of minutes later, Jordy opens the pantry door with a big smile painted across his face, holding my shoes. “The coast is clear,” he announces.
We stagger out of the pantry. Caleb’s hair is a mess, and I blush.
“What were you doing in there?”
Caleb’s face turns bright red.
Jordy grimaces. “Actually, don’t tell me.” He covers his ears. “Let me be innocent.”
“Jordy, do you know what happened to my slippers?” Mrs. Park calls from the other room.
“No, I haven’t seen them!” He waves me away. “Go, before she catches you.”
I race out of the kitchen and onto their back porch, stuffing my feet halfway into my shoes.
Caleb leans outside. “Hey, Bec?”
“What?” I ask, whirling around.
He hooks his finger underneath my chin. “Just one more.” He kisses my lips before hurrying to close the door behind him. I jump out of view as his mother walks into the kitchen, giggling to myself.
An orange glow from the sunset coats the grass as I cross the yard.
I touch my lips, smiling.
Once inside my own house, I kick off my shoes and head up the stairs.
The house is quiet and dark. The only sound is coming from Ethan’s room where, through the crack in the door, is my dad. He sits on the bare bed with one of Ethan’s shirts in his hands. Tears streaming down his face.
I don’t recognize him, not like this. He’s brave. He always controls his emotions and keeps them hidden. I’ve never seen him fall apart. Maybe all he needs is someone to be with him.
“Dad?” I squeak through the crack.
The shirt drops, and he clears his throat. He stands, walking over to the door. My heart lifts. I expect him to open it, to finally talk to me like old times, to let us cry together.
But he closes the door in my face, once again pushing me out.
And just like that, my heart shatters.
I don’t argue.
I don’t beg.
I just walk down the hallway to my room, where I’m a safe distance away from his pain.
Why does he keep pushing me away?
I shake off the disappointment. There’s no point in getting upset over it because it’s a phase. It’ll pass in time.
As if on autopilot, I pull out my phone and call Caleb. As it rings, I stare out my window, waiting for his bedroom light to spill through the early night.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I say, lying down on my bed, curls scattering everywhere.
“Apparently, you can’t get enough of me,” he says, laughing through the phone.
“I just needed to think about something else.”
His light flashes on. “Because of the whole Mom thing?”
“No. That was kind of fun.”
“Then what’s up? You sound a little down,” he says.
I roll onto my side and tug a pillow against my chest. Part of me wishes the pillow was actually Caleb. “My dad’s home.”
“Ah,” he pauses. I imagine he’s thinking of how to tiptoe around the wrong questions. “Did something happen?”
“It’s like he doesn’t see me anymore.” My voice is small, not wanting to hear the words coming out of my own mouth. “Sometimes him pushing me away hurts more than Ethan being gone. Ethan didn’t leave by choice, but my dad is.”
“He might not realize what he’s doing to you because his mind is somewhere else right now.”
“I guess so, but it still hurts. He’s the person I’ve always talked to when I was upset. I thought I could be that for him too.”
“You can be that person for him. You just have to be patient.”
I take a deep breath, keeping my focus on his bedroom light.
“It’s hard. Tonight, I almost went into Ethan’s room again.
I wanted to sit with him and maybe talk about Ethan, which is something I haven’t been able to do yet without getting upset, but he shut me out.
Literally. I’m finally at a point where I want to talk about my,” I shudder, “feelings. I wanted to share them with Dad and to have him share them back. I miss talking to him. I hate not knowing what’s going on in his head. ”
“That does sound hard.” He pauses. “I know I’m not your dad, but maybe you could share them with me?”
Can I do that? Truly confide in Caleb?
Just the thought calms my heart. Every fiber in my being is telling me I can. He’s a safe place to share anything.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready to talk about Ethan.”
“I’m listening,” he says.
“No judgment?”
“No judgment.”
I don’t know where to start. Whenever I think about my brother, my emotions mix and become unrecognizable.
There’s rage from him being gone and a sadness that coats everything.
“I miss him a lot. We definitely fought, but I loved him. He was the golden child. The one that always had his homework in on time. I don’t know if you remember, but he was valedictorian and the quarterback on the football team.
I swear, he was blessed with brains and brawn.
I find myself in this constant trap of wishing it was me that died instead of him.
I think things would’ve been better that way.
I’m not as important or good as he was. He deserves to be here.
I think, if he were here, my parents wouldn’t fight as much, and I know Mom would be happier. ”
“I always thought your brother was cool. He had a mean throw, for sure. But don’t ever forget that you are special too. You would’ve left a hole in this world just as big as he did.”
I don't necessarily agree with him, but I appreciate the thought. “Do you remember much about him?”
“Not really. We were never that close. He wasn’t exactly the Jacobs sibling I had my eye on.”
“Wow.”
He chuckles. “But the few times we did hang out, he was nice.”
“He was the best,” I say.
“What’s your favorite memory of him?”
I shift my weight, trying to get comfortable, burying myself farther in a cocoon of blankets. “There was this one time when he replaced my toothpaste with soap, so I posted his number on an online forum for single elderly women.”
He gasps. “You did not.”
“I did.” I bite at my laugh. “He eventually changed his number because he got so many calls.”
“That’s bad. Really bad.”
“I know.” My laugh bubbles out, along with a few tears.
So, this is what it feels like to remember someone and be happy about it. The sadness is still there, but joy is trickling in too. It’s like a weight has been lifted off my chest.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?” he asks.
“For being here for me. I know I’m not always the best at showing others how I feel, but I want you to know it means a lot.”
“I’ll always be here for you. Anytime you need me, just say the word, and I’ll come running.”
I suck in a breath. “I almost forgot how cheesy you can be.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you forget anytime soon.”
“Speaking of cheesy, do you want to hang out tomorrow?”
He laughs. “Did you just ask me out?”
“Problem?”
“Nope.”
“Good.”
“What did you want to do?” he asks.
Caleb is the romantic. He loves planning dates and hogging all the sweet talk. I’ve heard that people tend to do for others what they wish someone would do for them. What better way to show him how much he means to me than by planning the date myself?
“It’s a surprise.”