Chapter 15 Now
Now
Maybe I wouldn’t need to write a character letter at all. We were supposed to find out any day now if they’d discovered anything in those boxes they took out of the house, or in the three-hour-long questioning they’d had with him. He’d come home that day exhausted.
Maybe there was a text waiting on my phone right now that would tell me everything was fine.
That I didn’t have to write a letter after all.
That I didn’t have to try to pretend everything was good between us.
Or maybe there was a text waiting that said my letter was crucial.
That he needed all the help he could get.
That without it he would seem even harder to trust.
I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to force more memories to the surface.
There was that time we ran out of gas in the car and Dad and I walked three miles with a gas can because he couldn’t get ahold of Mom. It hadn’t felt like three miles. We played I Spy the whole time. I won. He probably let me.
I sighed, my eyes burning. If Beau and I were in a better place, I could talk to him right now. Let everything out. Maybe it would help me feel better. Clear up my mind for some memories of my dad. Or maybe it would just bring up more anger.
Beau had been quietly seething on the counter ever since he asked about Cody. I wondered if he was actually reading. If he was ready to get out of this bathroom, away from me. Then we’d never have to talk again.
“We broke up,” I spit out.
His eyes snapped to mine. “What?”
“Me and Cody. We broke up.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Nice,” I muttered.
“No, I don’t mean…he just wasn’t…you two weren’t…”
“Yeah, well, we’re not anymore,” I said when he couldn’t finish any of his sentences. Now there was nobody. I’d spent the past couple of weeks at school utterly alone. And home wasn’t much better. Maybe it was even worse.
“I haven’t seen you around,” he said.
That’s because I’d been sitting in my car during lunch.
The car I really shouldn’t own, because even though I’d ended up saving the amount my parents required of me, I didn’t have much to contribute on a monthly basis anymore.
Which left the burden on my parents. A burden that was heavier than it had once been.
When I quit the tutoring center, my intention was to find a new job, but I hadn’t yet.
I needed to. Maybe I could be a bagger at the grocery store.
I’d seen a help wanted sign in their window last week. “I’ve been around,” I said.
“Have you seen me?”
“I try to avoid you, Beau.”
“Yeah…” he said, as if he just now remembered exactly what had happened in December. That he wasn’t the only one with a legitimate reason to be mad, no matter how much he acted that way.