17. Connor #2
I watch Connor and Scout on Dance Mania, shoving each other and laughing together. Another reason why this has to be just be a casual fling. If Scout knew, she wouldn’t be willing to patch things up with her brother. She would see it as one more betrayal, by him, but also me.
If you look carefully, you can see that Connor is letting her win.
He’s always let her win. He watches her more than he watches the screen, a smile on his face at how much fun she’s having, how happy she is when she beats him.
Does he really want to throw that away? So what did he mean by, ‘How would you feel about seeing more of me after this summer?’
The sky has gone cloudy when we get out of the arcade. I try not to take it as a bad omen.
“Wanna get some pizza to bring home?” Scout asks.
“Actually, I need to go home and check on my dad. I haven’t been there in a few days.”
“I can give you a ride,” Connor says.
Scout pulls me closer, looping her arm through mine. “ I’ll take him. He’s mine.”
I know she’s joking, but I also note the way Connor swallows and his face drops.
Connor drives off in his shiny Volvo while Scout is still messing with the stereo.
The VW has risen from the dead after a stint in the shop, but I still worry it’s going to give up on us at any second.
It makes an unhealthy sound as Scout puts it into gear.
But then we’re on the road and the worry lines in Scout’s forehead smooth out.
“Want me to come in with you and get your dad to eat something?” Scout asks.
“No, it’s okay.”
She’s quiet for a moment. When she speaks again, it’s in the voice she uses when she knows I’m about to argue. “Eli, do you think it’s time we maybe hassled him into seeing someone? A professional?”
My hands get sweaty and I can’t look at her. “No. He won’t go.”
“Not voluntarily, not at first, but maybe we could?—”
“No, Scout.” I keep my voice as level as I can.
“Eli, you are not equipped to care for a depressed adult. You have school, you can’t be there all the time. It isn’t fair to you.”
My head spins. I’m doing everything wrong.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from telling Scout she doesn’t understand, but that’s not totally accurate.
She’s been here through everything, and what do I give her in return?
I’m a bad friend and a bad son. My mom would be so disappointed with me.
“Eli? Are you crying? Shit.”
The car screeches to a halt, a horrible noise coming from the tires.
She unclips her seatbelt while I swipe at my face to bring myself under control. What the hell am I doing? Before I can lie again and tell her I’m okay, Scout is lurching across the seats and throwing her arms around me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to push you. I just care about you and I don’t like to see you beat yourself up.” She moves back from the hug to look at me, but I can’t meet her eye. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Eli.”
I have to hold in a groan. I’ve done everything wrong. If only she knew.
“Come on, let’s go to your dad’s, check he’s okay, then have an X-Files marathon. Who can be sad with Mulder looking all sexy and nerdy?”
I manage a little laugh at that. She smiles before slinking back to her own seat. She eyes me one more time before clicking her seatbelt back into place and putting the car into drive.
I ignore the state of disrepair the house is in as I let us in and Scout starts storming straight toward my dad’s study.
I hear her bossing him around in there while I find some plates for the pizza we grabbed on the way.
Scout stomps into the kitchen moments later, my dad trailing behind, looking like a mole who just came out of hibernation. He glances at me reluctantly before glancing away.
“Take a seat, Mr. B.” Scout pulls out a chair for him and he obediently sits.
She talks on while we eat. Dad picks at his pizza, chewing like it’s made of concrete.
While I watch him, a ball of something unfamiliar builds in my chest. I love my dad.
I want to help him. But why can’t he do this for me?
Why does it take Scout to get him out of his study?
Why can’t he care enough about his son to sit down and have a meal with him?
Scout yaps on, dragging the occasional hum and nod from my dad. When he’s eaten a slice of pizza, he pushes his plate away and stands from the table.
“You’re really going back to your study?” I blurt before my brain can catch up. I feel Scout still beside me.
Dad blinks, looking at a spot just above my head. “I have an article due at the end of the week.” He swallows and winces.
Taking in a shuddery breath, I stand and pour a glass of water and hand it to him. “Drink this.”
He studies the glass before taking it with a small nod. “Thank you,” he mutters, before turning and walking out of the room.
Scout is behind me in a second, putting her hands on my shoulders.
“Come on,” she says. “It’s Foxy Mulder time.”
Halfway through the episode where Mulder and Scully are trapped in a scientific outpost in the arctic with an anger-inducing parasite, a text comes through from Connor.
Can I see you tonight?
I lock my screen and put the phone in my pocket.
“Who’s that?” Scout asks around a mouthful of cookie.
“No one. Just a notification.”
She nods. “Is it definitely a no-go with Gabe? You guys seemed like you were getting along okay at the arcade.”
I swallow, my hands getting clammy. “We’re just not compatible.”
“Even for a summer fling?”
“Yeah.” I hate not being able to tell her everything.
Her suspicions have obviously been roused.
We usually dissect every conversation I have with a guy if things go wrong, or if someone new has shown an interest. Scout never gets bored of me talking about some guy I’m dating or want to date. But I’ve been weirdly vague about Gabe.
She turns to face me on the lumpy couch. “Did something happen? Because I’ll kick his ass if I have to.”
I smile. “Nothing happened. He’s just pretentious, in a really cringey way. It gave me the ick.”
She snorts. “Fine, say less.”
My lie was convincing. I’m getting good at lying. Gross.