CHAPTER 17 #2
The anger and color had drained from Johnny’s face, replaced with regret. “Kayla… you know why I left.”
“Doesn’t mean I agree with it!” she blurted.
“You were my big brother. You were supposed to protect me.” She wiped at her cheeks with both hands, sucking in shallow breaths as she struggled not to sob.
“I had to deal with Daddy and Chuck and all that alone. You have no idea how—how terrified— And all because you wanted to ride rodeo!” She pressed her lips hard together and shook her head, crying now. “God fucking damnit. I can’t do this.”
At that, she threw herself forward, knocking Victor’s shoulder on her way down the porch steps.
He was thinking Johnny might follow, but instead he stood rod straight and pale, Adams apple bobbing as he watched his sister run to her car and jump inside.
Only when she’d skidded out of sight through the late fall foliage did Victor speak.
“Uh… so…” He cleared his throat. “That—uh.” What could he say, really?
Sarah put her hand on Johnny’s arm. “She’s just upset. She’ll come around.”
“I gotta be alone a minute,” Johnny muttered, shrugging off Sarah’s hand and then following his sister’s path down the steps and toward Victor’s truck.
Victor and Sarah watched him go, making no effort to stop him.
Instead of hopping inside the truck, Johnny walked to the tailgate and crouched out of sight.
“Should I ask?” Victor asked.
Sarah sighed. “Johnny hasn’t told you?”
“About what?”
“The family drama.”
“Uh, well, I’ve gleaned that his dad was… not great.”
“I figured he woulda told you, considering how you two seem close. Then again, he won’t talk about emotional stuff unless you make him.
All I’ll say right now is that he left home at sixteen when Kayla was twelve.
There was some stuff that went down a few years later, and his dad was killed by a shot to the head. It was in the news and everything.”
Victor could feel his face slacken. “His dad was murdered?”
“Yeah, by his friend Chuck. I don’t wanna get too much into it, but if you’re real curious, you can look up articles online.” Sarah glanced back at the house. “Let’s get to working. This mess isn’t going to clean itself, and I think Johnny deserves some place to sleep by tonight.”
* * *
They were able to make a dent in the mess, but it was still nowhere close to where it needed to be for Victor to feel comfortable leaving Johnny there, so they headed home around nine at night.
Victor promised to buy Sarah some pizza and beer at a more cheerful time, and Sarah promised to take him up on it.
She also gave Johnny a hug and told him she’d be back tomorrow to help with the rest. Johnny was even less talkative now than he’d been hours prior and judging by the look of utter defeat on his face, he was desperate for a drink.
Victor would have to keep a close eye on him in the next few days to make sure he was behaving himself.
Victor mulled over the next course of action for a bit before finally making the decision to pull the truck off the road and park it beside a soybean field.
“What are you doin’?” Johnny asked, annoyed.
“You’re going to tell me what all that was about with your sister.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Sarah told me it was in the news. So do you want me to read about it online or do you want me to hear it from you?”
“That bitch,” Johnny muttered under his breath. “Now why’d she have to tell you that?”
“She wanted you to tell me. She gave me some very general details, but I want to know about all of it. I’ve known you long enough that I feel like I deserve the truth.”
Johnny scowled and stared ahead for a few seconds before throwing the truck door open and jumping out.
“Hey!” Victor protested, scrambling to follow him. Thanks to Johnny’s long legs, he got in a few strides down the road before Victor caught up to him, grabbed his elbow, and yanked him to a stop. “You going to walk home?”
“I guess!” Johnny shot back, shaking Victor’s grip loose and muttering something under his breath as he took another step forward.
“Stop being such an idiot and get in the truck.”
“Try ‘n stop me,” Johnny snapped. “Need the exercise anyway.”
“Pinche idiota,” Victor grumbled, clenching his hands. “Quiero golpearlo alguna vez.” He trotted a few steps to catch up. “Get back in the truck, Johnny.”
“You ain’t the boss. Drive on home without me.”
“You know I won’t be doing that.”
Johnny twirled around so fast that Victor nearly collided with his chest. By now they were too far away from the truck’s headlights to see much, but Victor could still see a vague outline, helped by the nearly full moon overhead.
“You want me to reveal all my darkest secrets, hmm? Why don’t you go first then? What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, huh? Who have you failed in your life?” Johnny growled, throwing his arms out.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know. That’s the point of being friends. You tell each other things,” Victor replied with a pang of guilt, because he knew he hadn’t told Johnny everything, primarily that he’d only been named Victor for ten years.
“Then be a friend and understand I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it. Why the hell do you think I drink? It’s the only way I can fuckin’…” He looked down at his hands a moment before scowling. “Ain’t no point in dwellin’ on the past, that’s all.”
“The past is dwelling on you, by the looks of your house.”
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“I’m trying to help. Who else is standing on this road with you? Who else is putting you up at their place and helping you clean out your house? Who else has gone this far and done so much for you? What else can I say to prove to you that you can trust me?”
“It ain’t a matter of trust. It’s a matter of not wantin’ to talk about it.”
Victor stood there a moment staring at him, waiting for him to change his mind.
When all he did was thrust his chin out, Victor’s body tightened with a swell of rage.
After all he’d done for Johnny, Johnny still wouldn’t stop fighting him.
First he turned down Victor’s romantic advances.
Now it seemed he didn’t even want the platonic ones.
“Fine,” Victor muttered. “Walk, for all I care.” He turned on a heel and marched back to the truck.
He had just passed the headlight when someone fisted the back of his shirt, whipped him around, and pushed him up against the body of the truck.
Johnny’s shadow loomed over him, his pointer finger nearly jabbing him in the eye.
“You really know how to fuckin’ test me, you know that?” Johnny snapped. “You fuckin’ son of a bitch.”
“If you’re going to punch me, then do it,” Victor replied, voice eerily calm.
Johnny grabbed his shirt with both hands, as if considering throwing Victor to the ground.
Instead they both stood there for a solid five seconds, breathing hard and glaring at each other.
Just when Victor considered shoving him back and finishing his journey to the truck, Johnny yanked him into a hug so strong that Victor’s nose twisted painfully under the force of Johnny’s shoulder against it.
Once he was able to tip his face at a more convenient angle, he patted and rubbed Johnny firmly between the shoulder blades in a rhythm he hoped was comforting.
A second later, he felt a sob rattle through Johnny’s frame, and soon Johnny went so limp that Victor became the only reason he was still standing.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Victor said, still rubbing with one hand while he gripped the back of Johnny’s neck with the other. “I got you.”
Johnny’s crying turned louder and deeper, and Victor clung on, murmuring soft comfort and holding him the way his father did when Victor went to him sobbing after his first fight with Diego at sixteen.
Down the road, a pair of headlights pierced the darkness.
Johnny threw himself away from Victor and staggered to the other side of the car, crouching down in a drainage ditch.
The car passed, and after it faded into darkness, Victor followed Johnny to where he sat with his back against a tire, rubbing an arm under his nose.
Victor sat down next to him, and for the next few minutes, they existed in silence, broken only by Johnny’s sniffling.
Victor rose once to lean into the passenger side of the truck and grab some napkins out of the glove compartment.
These he gave to Johnny before sitting again.
“Thanks,” Johnny muttered, dabbing his face and blowing his nose. After using the napkins, he wadded them up into a ball and shoved them into the breast pocket of his shirt. “A nice night to lose my shit.”
“You’ve been through a lot today.”
“Yeah.” Johnny removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “I really want a fuckin’ drink.” He put his hat back on and dropped his head back against the truck before turning to Victor. “You’re the most stubborn piece of shit I’ve ever known.”
“Takes one to know one,” Victor replied, nudging Johnny’s shoulder with his. Johnny smiled weakly.