Chapter 24
ANDERSON
“Are you excited to spend the weekend with Sadie? Your sister said you two really hit it off during your coffee date at Hey Honey’s yesterday.”
Georgie and I are walking down the aisle of the new record store downtown, her eyes still just as wide as they were when we walked in as she looks at the endless amount of bins on either side of us.
Ava checked with Patricia about leaving Georgie with a babysitter while we were gone for a few days, and Sadie was willing to meet with Patricia to complete a background check. Once Patricia gave her stamp of approval, it settled a lot of Ava’s nerves about leaving Georgie.
“Yeah, she’s cool,” she answers, but she sounds distracted, and I don’t blame her. The shop is overwhelming, but in a good way. I can already tell we’re not going to be leaving here anytime soon, and I’m perfectly okay with that. We’re not in any rush.
Ava and I leave for Vegas tomorrow morning, and we’re meeting everyone early at Jack and Rumi’s to drop off Georgie with Sadie and to all drive to the airport in one car.
As long as we’re back with enough time for me to pack a bag and get a decent amount of sleep, I'm fine spending the whole afternoon here.
Georgie starts thumbing through the records in one of the bins, carefully examining each before flipping to the next.
Ava is making sure everything at Hey Honey’s is taken care of while she’s gone for the next four days, so she asked if I could pick Georgie up from school.
Since Georgie’s piano lesson was canceled for today, I figured it was finally time for us to check out this record store.
I grabbed her, and we came straight here.
“See anything you like?” I ask Georgie, going through the vinyls in the bin next to hers.
She snorts, and it reminds me of Ava. “I’ve already seen like three records in this first bin I’ve been wanting. I don’t know how I’ll decide, though. Rumi said she’s going to pay me $20 for helping Sadie with Evee, and Ava’s giving me an extra $10 since I don’t get to go to the wedding.”
Because Georgie is at that age where she wants to be treated like an adult, Ava and Rumi agreed that phrasing her staying with Sadie while we’re gone isn’t her being babysat—it’s her lending Sadie an extra hand for the few days we’re gone.
I know from experience with my brothers that you have to toe the line carefully when it comes to taking care of a thirteen-year-old and letting them think they’re taking care of themselves.
“Good for you,” I tell her, lightly knocking my knuckles against her shoulder before going back to the records in front of me.
I’m about to say more, but I decide against it, feeling comfortable in the quiet calm that settles between us, the soft, grunge music playing over the speakers filling the silence enough for us.
For the early afternoon, the place is pretty dead, so we spend the next few hours making our way through the bins until it starts getting dark.
“Ready to wrap up?” I ask Georgie. She’s tightly holding one of the records she kept circling back to against her chest as her eyes roam the old concert posters hanging all over the brick walls of the shop.
She nods. “I’m going to ask if they’ll hold this one for me until next week.
Do you think you can bring me here again when you’re back from Las Vegas?
" Her face flushes before she quickly adds, “If you don’t mind maybe bringing me here again. I could always ask Ava, too. I don’t know if you work or if you’re busy—” her voice trails off.
“Of course, G. I’d be happy to bring you back, but why don’t we get this one today?” Before we got here, I decided I wanted to keep the tradition alive that my dad started with me, so I was already planning on buying one of whichever record she wants. And then, we can listen to it when we get home.
“But I don’t have any money,” she says, her brows furrowing as I lead her over to the checkout counter.
“Consider it a thank you for coming with me to check this place out.” I take the record from her, loving her choice. The familiar black album cover with a hand holding a heart-shaped grenade has me grinning wide as we make our way over to the guy at the register.
I didn’t think I could admire this kid any more, and then she goes and grabs a Green Day album. American Idiot, no less.
Placing the record on the counter, I notice a small container of matchboxes with the record store’s logo. Remembering the small bowl I noticed at Ava’s apartment, I pocket one, realizing that I never asked if the collection was hers or Emerson’s.
“Are you sure?” Georgie asks, hiding her smile. She tucks a strand of her dirty blonde hair behind her ears, her eyes shining as she looks up at me, bringing me back to the moment.
“Absolutely.”
I’m just falling asleep when I hear the creaking of the hardwood outside my door. The footsteps carefully step down the hallway and into the living room.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I’m out of my bed, throwing on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants over my boxers, and quietly opening my door.
Ava got home at the same time Georgie and I did earlier this evening, and it’s the first night since last Saturday that we are all home at the same time.
Georgie and I picked up dinner for the three of us so I could make sure Ava had something to eat when she got home after working all day.
I find that if I don’t keep the fridge stocked with leftovers from the meals I make, ready with a note that they’re for her, Ava won’t eat anything besides the bland protein bars she lives off of.
Georgie told Ava all about the record store while we ate, and then the three of us gathered around the record player in the living room, just like we did with that old Nickelback vinyl that first night they came over.
We listened to the entire Green Day album from front to back—Georgie even changed the record halfway through just like I taught her. I’d told her that she can use it when I’m not home, but I think it was the first time she used it since that first night.
I don’t know when it happened, maybe somewhere between agreeing to have Ava and Georgie move in and mentally reorganizing my space to fit them.
But while the three of us sat on the floor, nodding along to the music, natural, easy conversation surrounding us, I stopped thinking about how this is all temporary—fake.
And it hit me that it never really was, to me.
Because it’s moments like tonight where I find myself thinking not about how good we are at pretending, but about how real this is all starting to feel.
Both girls headed to sleep pretty early. It’s a school night for Georgie, and Ava said she wanted to get packed and prepped for our long weekend in Vegas.
But I think she’s actually avoiding me.
Ava and I haven’t talked about the moment we shared in the shower over the weekend, and if it were up to her, I don’t think we ever would.
After reluctantly heading to bed when all I really wanted to do was get on my knees and beg Ava to keep herself open for me, I slept almost the entire day and halfway through the night.
I think it was almost four in the morning when I woke up—my body finally feeling rested, along with my mind.
I figured Ava and I would have some time to talk in Vegas this weekend, especially since we’re sharing a hotel room under our currently engaged facade we’ve been hiding behind.
Opening my bedroom door, I peek my head out to see into the living room.
Maybe we can just talk about it now.
I start thinking about what I want to say—how I want to thank her for being there for me in that moment of vulnerability. For listening to me. For letting me lean on her, both figuratively and literally, when I needed it.
But I’m surprised when it isn’t Ava I find.
It’s Georgie.
She’s sitting on the floor, just like she was a few hours ago. Only this time, she’s alone.
The vinyls are laid out in front of her, even though she’s got to have all of them memorized at this point, with how often she looks at them all.
I’m about to step out into the hall when I hear my phone vibrating on my nightstand, my body instinctively turning toward the noise.
A phone call in the middle of the night is never good.
I glance over my shoulder at Georgie and contemplate letting the call go to voicemail. I don’t know why she’s up, and I feel a pull to go check on her. I squint my eyes, trying to see the caller ID—another pull in the opposite direction.
I decide to just see who’s calling, in case it's an emergency, and then I can go check on Georgie. Closing my bedroom door quietly, I go to grab my phone, the bright screen making my eyes squint.
Auggie.
What the fuck could he possibly need at two in the morning?
Holding the phone to my ear, I don’t have time for greetings. “Auggie? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I keep my voice just above a whisper.
“What? Everything’s fine.” His voice sounds bored, as if he’s calling me in the middle of the afternoon, not the middle of the night. “I need Mom’s insurance information.”
“Why do you need that at two in the fucking morning?” I’m frustrated with myself for even answering the phone, especially when Georgie is up, all by herself. Maybe she wants to be alone, but I want her to tell me that. The pull to go to her strengthens, but I can’t until I deal with my brother.
Auggie exhales dramatically—like I’m the one inconveniencing him. “She’s switching doctors.”
There’s a little voice in the back of my head, telling me to push him on this, but I want to get this call over with as fast as possible so I can go check on Georgie. But my mom hasn’t switched doctors in years, and now all of a sudden she is? And why would Auggie be doing this now?
“Why would she do that? And why are you doing this right now?” I ask him, rubbing my forehead.
“I haven’t had time,” he whines. “I’m up gaming with a few guys, and before she went to bed, Mom said the new office left a message for her. I figured I’d just do it now.”
His answer barely makes sense, and I can’t fight the suspicion that he’s not telling me the entire story.
My mom hasn’t said anything to me about switching providers.
And that’s when I realize I haven’t called her in a couple of weeks.
Guilt, like an old friend, overrides all my other thoughts and feelings, so I do the only thing I know how to—help.
“Yeah, I have a copy of her card in my wallet. Hold on.” I read off all the information on her insurance card and text him over a picture of it too. “Why did she switch doctors?”
Auggie explains something about a change in her medication and how her old doctor recommended this new one for the new prescription.
And since I’m not the one helping our mom with her pain management anymore, I guess I have to take his word for it.
Once we hang up the phone, I head out into the living room, hoping to check in with Georgie and see if she’s okay. I’ve never heard her get up in the middle of the night, and with my fucked up sleeping schedule, I’m usually awake during these odd hours.
But when I make my way to where she just was a few minutes ago, she’s gone.
I glance down the hallway that leads to her bedroom and find the door cracked open. Part of me wants to make sure she went back to bed and that everything is okay, but the other part reminds me—convinces me—it’s not my place.
Heading back to my bedroom, I strip down to my boxers again, tossing and turning for the next two hours, my mind spinning, wondering why Georgie was up, and why Auggie’s call left such a bad taste in my mouth.