Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ERIKA
Back at the house, Vinny jogged inside ahead of me. I bent to pick up a paper bag sitting on the porch.
“Hey, wait a second. Can we talk?” I called out to Vinny when he brushed past me the moment I unlocked the door.
He kicked off his cleats, spraying orange mud across the foyer, then crossed his arms like he was bracing for impact.
I wondered if I was now supposed to clean the floor.
Housekeeping ranked just above laundry folding on my list of personal hells.
I peeked into the paper bag, finding a foil casserole tray, still warm.
Only in the South did a meal train launch the moment someone died.
Still, something in me loosened. It felt nice to be cared for.
I looked at Vinny, his arms locked tight, expecting me to yell.
Instead, I said quietly, “I’m sorry your parents are gone…and that my dad is gone too.”
Vinny’s jaw tightened. “Are you sorry? Are you even sad?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I am. I just haven’t figured out how to feel it yet. Everything still feels sideways.”
“You never visited. You never even called when they were alive.” His voice cracked, then hardened. “You’re lying. You’re just here to get their money.”
I shook my head. “There isn’t any money. Nothing like that. Just the house—and that’s yours.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I did call. Not enough. I should have tried harder. That part’s on me.”
He stared at the floor, silent now.
“I didn’t stay away because of you,” I added. “I stayed away because things were complicated with Dad, and I didn’t know how to fix them. That doesn’t make it okay.”
“I’m not going to the funeral,” he said, suddenly.
I let out a slow breath. I didn’t want to go either. But wanting had stopped mattering the moment we became the only two left. “You don’t have to decide that tonight,” I said. “We’ll talk about it.”
“I don’t want to live with you. I don’t like you.” He dropped his bag like punctuation.
“That’s fair,” I said gently. “You don’t know me yet.”
“It’s you who doesn’t know me,” he shot back. “Mom said you never wanted anything to do with me. And then you yelled at Coach and made me look bad. Parents don’t do that.”
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” I said immediately. “I’m sorry about that. I’m not your parent.” I hesitated. “But I do know your coach. We grew up together. Sometimes adults bring old stuff into places it doesn’t belong.”
He scoffed. “You don’t want to be here. So go home.”
“I don’t know where home is right now, but I’m not leaving you.”
“I can stay with Mrs. Marty or Mrs. Darlene,” he argued, arms crossed, chin lifted.
“They care about you. But they have families and lives already.” I met his eyes. “Right now, you’ve got me. That doesn’t have to mean forever. But it’s what we’ve got.”
“You’re not my mom.”
“I know. I’m not trying to be. If we don’t stay together,” I said carefully, “there are people who will decide where you go. That might mean foster care. It could mean leaving Vision.”
His head snapped up. “So now you’re threatening to get rid of me?”
“No,” I said immediately, closing the distance between us. “I’m trying to explain the rules, not scare you.”
“Yes, you are.” His voice cracked, anger giving way to something raw. “You don’t want me. Just say it. Put me up for adoption or whatever. Fine.”
Before I could stop him, he bolted for the stairs. His bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the walls below.
I stood there, frozen, the house ringing with everything I should’ve said better.
When my legs finally gave out, I sank into one of the stiff wooden chairs at the kitchen table. The stack of unopened bills sat where my dad had left them.
“I’m trying,” I whispered to the empty room. Then, quieter, “I really am.”
My phone chimed with a text. I smiled when I saw the number.
Sarah and I had grown close during my residency.
She was a brilliant veterinary technician who could do just about anything, and the person who got me through complicated surgeries while somehow keeping me on schedule.
She was only a few years older, but when she got mad, people listened.
It definitely wasn’t the blue rainbow sparkle hair or eyebrow piercings that made her terrifying.
Sarah: How’re you holding up?
Erika: There are complications.
Sarah: The kind that might keep you there longer???!!
Erika: Yeah, like long-term kind of longer.
My phone rang.
“You will not be staying down there. I need you back up here. These other doctors are driving me crazy.”
“This is about you, then?”
“Of course it’s about me.” She chuckled.
“Dr. James asks my opinion before she’ll do any blood test to make sure it’s what I think she should do.
She’s also terrified to do any sort of big surgery to the point she’ll push euthanasia over a fixable problem.
Dr. Center makes me deliver all the bad news.
Then he swoops in and tries to make it better.
Like today I had to tell the client for him that the guy’s dog was coughing because he had lung cancer.
You don’t do crap like that. He needs to grow some balls and be the doctor. ”
“That’s not your job. You’re right. It’s okay to tell him that, you know. He’s an intern.” I sighed before saying, “I was given guardianship of my eight-year-old brother.”
“What? Did you not know about him?”
“I knew he existed. I didn’t know I was designated to be his guardian if his parents died. You’d think that’s the kind of thing you get asked before you’re named.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I have no idea. And there’s more. My dad forged my signature on a contract that puts me in debt to his business partner for half the clinic. The partner bought him out last year. And, plot twist, the business partner is my high school ex, who hates me. Although I’m pretty sure I hate him more.”
“Is this the guy who ended up going to his baseball game naked?” That was her super-interested-in-gossip tone.
“Yes.”
“That was epic revenge.”
“That actually wasn’t on purpose. I think he’s going to try to force me to stay here and help him with the business to pay off the debt. Oh, and I had to pull a cow today.”
“You pulled a cow?” Sarah whistled. “I knew you were super, but I didn’t know you could do cows.”
“It was miserable. Raining, freezing… It was the whole farm-medicine nightmare package. I remembered exactly why I don’t do large animal work. It’s never been my dream to be elbow-deep in a cow’s ass while getting showered in manure slop. Real glamorous stuff.”
“Lovely,” she said.
“Then I made a complete jerk of myself. I didn’t realize Josh was Vinny’s baseball coach and I pointed out his pants were too tight.”
“You did not.” She burst out laughing. “Did you get caught staring at his ass?”
“His ass was disgustingly great in baseball pants. Then I remembered it belonged to the douche of the century.”
She snorted. “So he’s still hot, huh?”
“So hot,” I groaned. “Unfairly hot. He was supposed to gain a hundred pounds and work on his dad’s farm, not become a veterinarian who looks like he lives at the gym.
I swear, Sarah, if he posted about his work online, he’d go viral.
He’s got an eight-pack—not six—and could probably work as an ass model.
Every woman in this town is either sleeping with him or trying to. Except me.”
“Sounds like he’s trouble. There’s got to be a way out of all this before you end up in Mr. Fantastic Ass’s bed and hate yourself.”
“I’m with…supposed to be with…”
“Jay?”
“Yeah, him.”
“How does Jay’s ass compare?”
“It doesn’t.” I swallowed, the anger and disappointment knotting together. “Jay showed his real ass today when I asked him to come down here and help me with all of this. He wouldn’t. So… I think we’re done.”
“Thank, God,” she said instantly. “He’s a jerk. Sell your condo and come live with me. Use the money to pay off Mr. Ass-man.”
“That’d be me and Vinny crammed into your one-bedroom. You don’t have room for both of us. And even if I sold the condo, it might not cover the clinic debt. The market is brutal. Plus, I don’t know what to do with Vinny.”
“What does Vinny think?”
“He’s eight. He’s got a life here. He despises me. And he flat-out refuses to go back to Philly.”
She sighed. “You’re in a pickle, girl. I don’t know how to help. I can’t keep doing this much longer without you. I’ve got to go express a dog’s anal sacs. Love you.”
* * *
I woke up with my cheek in a puddle of drool on the kitchen table. Gross.
6:05 a.m.
What time did school start?
I didn’t even know if Vinny rode the bus or needed a packed lunch. Did he have homework? Honestly, I was operating with the parental equivalent of a blank Google doc.
I knocked on Vinny’s door.
No answer.
I cracked it open, and a wave of heat slapped me in the face like I’d just opened the oven to check on cookies—if those cookies were made of stale socks and despair.
I wondered if the vent dumped all the heat in this room rather than anywhere else in the house.
The room looked like the aftermath of a tornado that had specifically targeted laundry.
Clothes covered the floor so completely I wasn’t sure there was a floor.
In the corner sat a Lego structure that either had been destroyed in battle or was an experimental architectural concept. Every bookshelf was packed with random objects—books, more Legos, possibly a fossil.
On the dresser, a single betta fish floated around a cloudy tank, looking at me sadly.
I called out, “What time do you have to get up?”
“Go away,” Vinny moaned. “I don’t have to get up for another half hour.”
I wandered back downstairs and fed Tracker, who acted like he hadn’t eaten in twelve years. Then I planted myself in front of the open refrigerator, staring into its fluorescent glow like it might offer life advice.