35. Bruce
CHAPTER 35
brUCE
Colossus whines.
Fuck.
There I went and had a fight in front of him yet again.
Grabbing him, I sit on the bed that was Lilly’s until a few seconds ago and stroke the heavenly fur. As the dog’s eyes roll back in pleasure, I calm down as well, enough to think semi-coherent thoughts.
Like, for example, that I should be relieved she spared me the need to bring up her note, but I’m not. That I should be happy I discovered Lilly’s duplicity before I felt too much, but I’m not… possibly because it’s already too late.
No. No reason to waste time going down that train of thought.
I’ll probably feel better if I hold on to my anger. I mean, how crazy was she acting when I walked in? It’s illogical, even if I account for the fact that people’s prefrontal cortex (the rational part of the brain) doesn’t develop fully until twenty-five years of age, and she’s only twenty-three.
Still. Now that I’m a tiny bit calmer, something about our encounter doesn’t make sense.
Particularly this: why was she already leaving when I walked in? It would make a lot more sense if she’d stormed out after I gave her a piece of my mind about the note.
Something I didn’t even get the chance to do.
It’s almost like?—
My phone rings, and my first thought is that it might be Lilly, calling to ask for her job back. And to apologize.
Fine, maybe it’s more like I’m hoping it’s Lilly.
The caller, however, is Mom.
I’m tempted not to pick up, but filial duty wins out.
“Mom, hi. Is everything okay?”
“Hi, Brucie,” Mom says in her usual upbeat tone. In a sterner voice, she asks, “Did you get into a fight with your sister’s boyfriend?”
“What?” I look at Colossus as if he might have answers.
Mom sighs. “You know Angela isn’t a teen anymore, and that even back then, you were out of line when you?—”
“I didn’t get into a fight with her guy,” I state slowly. I mean, when he asked Lilly to dance the other week, I was tempted, but stopping oneself is what a fully developed prefrontal cortex is for. “What gave you that idea?”
“A few minutes ago, I walked in on him getting up from the floor in the kitchen,” she says. “He dodged my questions about what happened, like he was ashamed.”
“That is odd.”
“I know, right?” she says. “Angela also said she had no clue. Speaking of Angela, she said she’s going to break up with him, and I’m glad, because you know how I’ve always felt about second-hand smoke and?—”
I tune out the rest of what Mom says because some puzzle pieces are sliding into place, and I don’t like the emerging picture one bit. Could there be a connection between the two strange events of Lilly’s sudden departure and what Mom is talking about?
Setting the puppy on the floor, I tell Mom that I have to go.
“Sure, hon,” she says and hangs up.
I rush to my office and pull up the surveillance footage for the kitchen.