34
jo
Amy was asleep on the couch, her cheeks still red two hours later. Shia covered her with a blanket while Meg slipped out from under her head. I sat on the floor staring at the three of them, with no words in my throat.
“Are you hungry?” Shia asked Meg.
The way she looked at him made me sad for her, for John Brooke, and, mostly, for Shia, who never stood a chance with my oldest sister. When Meg nodded, Shia immediately led her into the kitchen. Laurie was so quiet next to me that I had nearly forgotten he was there.
“You can leave, you know,” I told him, staring at Amy asleep on the couch. Sometimes she looked so young.
“I’m fine.”
I looked over at Laurie, and I couldn’t figure out why he lingered. It had been hours since he popped into our chaos, and yet he was still sitting on the living room floor, long legs stretched out, as always. He looked the same as before my life changed in an instant, only his eyes were glossy and his hair was wavier at the ends.
“You can go, seriously. I’m fine,” I told him.
He bent one of his legs at the knee and scooted closer to me. “Why do you want me to go so bad? I’m just sitting here.”
“Exactly,” I snapped. I didn’t mean to be so harsh, but I didn’t have the energy to apologize.
Laurie didn’t say anything; he just leaned against the wall and shook his head a little. It pissed me off. Who did he think he was?
I was getting angrier and angrier with each passing minute. Laurie started clicking his tongue, and it pushed me over the edge. I shot up and went outside. It was cold, but the air was still sticky somehow. The porch was ice under my bare feet. The screen door slammed shut, and I kept walking into the yard. The door opened, and I groaned, spinning around on my heels.
“Jo—” Laurie called, and I watched him look for me in the darkness. I even thought about ignoring him and running as fast and as far as I could, but he spotted me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as if my dad hadn’t been fucking blown up and my mom wasn’t on her way to Germany and my house was falling apart.
“What’s wrong?” I yelled at him, not giving a shit that none of this was his fault. “What’s wrong is that—” I stopped to dig for what exactly was wrong, besides the obvious. “Why are you still here? I told you to go hours ago.”
“I can’t just leave you like this. Your—”
“I can take care of myself, Laurie.”
He sighed and stepped closer to me. The streetlight was shining directly on him now, and I wondered at what point we had moved to the edge of the yard. “I never said you couldn’t, Jo. I’m just trying—”
“Trying what? To swoop in and try to make me feel better. Guess what? That’s not going to work here, Laurie, because you see, my fucking dad is lying in some hospital bed fighting for his goddamn life right now!”
I knew I was wrong for yelling at him, but honestly, it just felt so good in that moment.
“I’m only trying to—” He tried to explain, but I cut him off again.
“Well, stop. Stop trying.”
“Stop interrupting me!” he half shouted, and turned away from me. His fingers tugged at the hair closest to his scalp, and he looked at me again. “I’m trying to be here for you, Jo. Just fucking let me, for God’s sake.”
“God doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Jo, I know you’re upset and—”
I couldn’t let him finish a sentence, not tonight. “You don’t know anything. My dad actually loves—”
I stopped myself. Where was this coming from? Even this version of me couldn’t finish my hurtful sentence. But when I looked at Laurie, I realized that the damage had already been done. His face had fallen like a shooting star onto the grass, and I was struggling to find the voice I was spouting with only seconds before.
“You know what, Jo? Fine. I’ll go. Have a good fucking night.” His accent was so strong that I barely understood the last part as he dashed across the street and I stood there frozen inside and out, waiting for him to turn back around.
I never wanted to be the kind of person who lashes out at their family . . .
Laurie wasn’t my family.
He was a random neighbor boy who I had spent the last few months getting to know inside and out, and he had done nothing wrong but try to be there for me. He wasn’t my punching bag, and I needed to find it in myself to walk my ass over and apologize. I could smell bacon cooking from the kitchen, and my stomach growled despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten bacon in years.
I thought about Shia and his comforting words to Meg and Amy as Meg played with Amy’s hair until she fell asleep on her lap. John Brooke had left almost as soon as he arrived, yet Shia was still here. Swallowing my anger and pride, I crossed the street and knocked on Laurie’s door.
He opened it after a long pause, and I stood there, silent until he waved me in. Neither of us talked until we got upstairs to his room. He had already changed into his pajamas, a white T-shirt and blue plaid cotton pants. His bed was a mess, like he had been trying to sleep but rolled around instead.
He sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment before lying down. His long body was almost too long for the bed, and I sat down on the edge of it. I lay down next to him, just as I had many, many times, and he clicked the lamp off above his head.
“I’m sorry,” I told him in the darkness.
“I know,” he whispered back.