Chapter 14
If I had a flower for every time I thought of you … I could walk through my garden forever.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Fable
“Wake up.” I yank the covers from Owen and he tries to grab at them, rolling onto his back with an agonized groan.
“Shit, Fabes, what are you doing here? And why are you waking me up like some sort of drill sergeant?”
“Ha, if I were a drill sergeant I’d have a whistle blasting in your ear and be commanding you to run some damn laps.” I thwack him on the leg with my index finger and thumb, dropping the comforter back on him in a pile. “You’re going to be late for school.”
He cracks open his eyes and glances at the clock on his rickety bedside table. “It’s not even seven yet. Why the hell are you up? What are you even doing here? I thought you’d stay the night with your new lover boy again.”
Yeah, well, so did I. I’d even contemplated asking Drew to stay with me so I could be here for Owen last night. But that petty argument we got into ruined all those plans.
“I wanted to stay home and talk to you.” I sit on the edge of his bed, glancing around his room.
It’s a disaster, not that mine is much better, but at least I don’t have smelly socks lying all over the place and a pile of dirty clothes in the middle of the room that I swear is waist high.
“You need to douche this room, and soon.”
“Did my big sister use the word ‘douche’? Now I think I’ve heard it all.” He sits up and rubs the back of his head. “I can’t believe you ditched your new man for me. You must want to talk about some serious shit.”
“Why must you continue to use such foul language?” I sound like a mom. I should be used to his constant cussing. And really, I have no room to judge. I’ve had a foul mouth for years. It was my first act of rebellion against my mother and I never let up.
“Gimme a break. You curse like a sailor.” He stifles a yawn and scratches his bare chest. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I’ve been thinking.” I pluck at a loose thread on his worn comforter. I really wish I had more money so I could buy the two of us nicer things. “I want to find a different apartment.”
He’s quiet for a moment and I look at him, see the shock and disbelief written all over his face. “You want to move? And leave me with Mom all alone?”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, no, no. I would never do that. I want us to leave Mom. I want the two of us to live together.” When he doesn’t say a word, I forge on.
“She’s never here. She’s always with her new boyfriend and she doesn’t have a job anymore, so she can’t pay rent.
I’m paying for everything, and trust me, it’s hard.
I don’t make a ton of money. I work freaking part time, though my new boss is willing to give me more hours. ”
“That’s great.”
“It is, but we still have too much apartment here. I bet I could find a two-bedroom in a better neighborhood for way less money. What do you think? You want to do it?”
“I’ll go wherever you go,” he says, but I can hear the hesitation in his voice.
“But what?”
“But … I’m only fourteen. Aren’t there legalities or whatever about that sort of stuff? Like, won’t Mom have to make you my guardian or something if I go and live with you?”
“Why would she need to? Let’s not pretend that she wants us around here so bad. She won’t care if you come live with me.”
“She might.” He drops his head, bunching the comforter up in his lap.
Crap. He wants to believe Mom actually cares about him. After all, he’s just a kid. No one wants to face the realization that their mom doesn’t give a rat’s ass about them. I still don’t like facing it. But I’ve put up a wall against the pain and tell myself it doesn’t matter. I don’t need her.
“Owen.” I grip his knee and he looks up, his gaze meeting mine.
We both have the same eyes as Mom, though I always thought his were prettier.
He has the thickest, darkest lashes I’ve ever seen, and I don’t know where he got them from considering his hair is a dirty blond.
Girls are going to go crazy for those eyes someday, if they aren’t already.
My brother is handsome. Cocky and full of attitude.
I feel sorry for any girl who falls for him.
“I want you with me. I don’t want to do this alone. ”
“What about Drew Callahan? Wouldn’t you want to move in with him? Isn’t he rich?”
I grimace. “I have no idea what’s going on with Drew. But you and me? We’re blood. We’re family. I’m not about to leave you. We’re all each other has.”
“What’s Mom gonna do? Don’t you think she’ll get mad?”
“I doubt it. This way she doesn’t have to worry about us and she can go live with her boyfriend.
I can find a nicer place that’s smaller and pay less rent.
It’s a win-win for us all.” I can’t think about Mom getting upset with me for wanting to do this.
Why should she care? I’m making her life easier.
“What happens if it doesn’t work out for her and Larry the Loser? Then where will she go?”
“Owen.” I grip his knee tighter. “She’s not our responsibility. She’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”
He tilts his head, screws up his lips. Looking far older and world-weary than any fourteen-year-old should. “I just worry about her. I worry about you, too. I’m supposed to be the man of the house.”
My jaw drops. “Who told you that?”
“Mom. A long time ago. She said I had to watch out for the both of you and I promised I always would. I haven’t done the best job of it, but I swear, I try.”
My heart breaks for this kid. He’s gone through so much at too young of an age.
He’s seen too much. Grabbing his shoulders, I bring him in for a quick hug, not holding on to him for too long since I know he’ll just wiggle out of my grip anyway.
“We’ll take care of each other, okay? It’s not all on me or all on you. We’ll share the load.”
“I’ll help you with whatever you need, Fabes. I’m on your side. I promise.” He clings to me and I hug him close, savoring it for a little while longer. I love him so much. I hate that he’s conflicted between Mom and me.
“Go take a shower,” I tell him once I get up off the bed and start out of his room. “And when you get home today, I want you to clean this room. It sucks.”
His laughter follows me down the hall as I head toward the kitchen. I’ve been up for over a half hour, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinking of looking for an apartment today, talking to Owen about it, maybe gathering up the courage to talk to Mom about her moving out.
Trying my best to not think of Drew.
What the hell happened last night, anyway? Our fight had started out of nothing. I tried to be honest with him and he got all macho-man-how-many-guys-have-you-fucked-anyway on me. I accept him for who he is, flaws and all, so why can’t he accept me?
I get irritated just thinking about it. So it’s best I don’t.
A knock sounds at the door and I scowl. Who the hell is here at seven in the morning? Stomping over to the door, I look through the peephole but I see nothing. I throw open the door and peek to the left, then the right. No one’s there.
Then I glance down and find a gorgeous bouquet of wildflowers sitting on the thin, faded doormat. The vase is full of a riot of colorful blooms; I can’t identify any of them beyond their pretty colors. I know in an instant who they’re from.
Grabbing the vase, I clutch it in my hand as I step farther outside, my gaze steady as I study the parking lot. But I don’t see his truck. I don’t see any indication he’s been here at all other than the flowers in my hand.
How the heck did he get them here and then disappear? I know he’s fast on the football field, but come on. Where did he go?
“Who the hell was knocking—oh, Lover Boy.”
I turn to see Owen grinning at me, wearing a stained T-shirt with some unknown and I’m sure crappy band’s logo on the front and black faded skinny jeans. We walk back into the apartment together. “That’s what you’re wearing to school?”
He glances down at himself. “I’m not going to the prom. Gimme a break. Hey, you got any smokes?”
“Owen! Promise me you’re not smoking.” The guilty look on his face says it all. If the flowers weren’t so beautiful, I’d hurl the vase at him, I’m so pissed. “You’re too young to smoke. It’s a horrible, nasty habit.”
“You do it.”
“Not all the time. I mostly quit.” Yeah, that sounds lame as hell.
“I only smoke every once in a while,” Owen whines. “It soothes my nerves.”
“Such a bullshit answer. I’m sure if I dug around in your room right now, I’d find some weed, too. Am I right?” I raise a brow, just daring him to deny it.
His eyes widen the slightest bit right before he goes for pure defiant nonchalance. “Oh, who cares? You act like you’ve always been on the straight and narrow. I bet you’ve smoked a few bowls in your life.”
Not really. Drugs don’t do much for me. I smoked a joint here and there through high school, but cigarettes were my major vice.
The occasional keg party would do me in, too.
Make me do stupid things. That’s why I avoided them after a while.
“I’m twenty, you’re fourteen. There’s a difference between what I’m doing and what you’re doing. ”
“Such crap,” Owen mutters as he walks away from me, heading toward the couch where his sweatshirt is flung over the back. “I’m outta here.”
I set the vase down on the kitchen counter, my pleasure at receiving the flowers evaporating when I realize I’ve not only just gotten into a huge fight with my brother, but I did the same thing with Drew last night.
Who’s the one with the problem, hmm?
“Owen, look. I’m sorry.” He stops at the door, as if he’s waiting for me to further explain myself. “I just hate to see you make a bunch of stupid mistakes like I did. I wish you could learn from me.”