Fifty-five dollars and fifty-five cents.
All in pennies.
I blink, blink, blink at that number on the receipt. It’s a good number. A solid number. A worthy number. The number.
My veins always thrum with a foreign electricity that doesn’t belong to me.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
“All here?” I demand, my voice sharp even to my own ears. I’m mostly impressed I got out my question at all.
One hundred and eleven rolls.
Five loose.
Four ounces per roll.
Zero point zero eight eight ounces per coin.
Twenty-seven point seven eight pounds total.
“Every single last penny,” the teller says, the sound of her voice clipped. It’s the same tone Ethel uses on me. All it does is make me wish for a softer voice. A smoother voice. A voice like Tyler’s—a voice that speaks to me when my brain chooses to ignore the rest.
I don’t thank her because I don’t want to this time, not because I can’t. I cram my haul into my giant duffle bag. It’s heavy and I grunt as I heave it over my shoulder before stalking from the building without looking back. Once outside, I make a beeline to Tyler’s car where he waits for me. After shoving the hefty bag into the back, I sit in the front seat and slam the door shut. I rock in my seat and my neck aches from the movement.
Every Friday.
Every Friday we leave the house to see Dr. Cohen and run our errands.
I hate Fridays.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
“Get what you needed?” he asks.
“Casey-Casey,” I snarl.
He lets out a rush of breath. “Her appointment is next month. I’ll run her to it. I thought just you and I could go together today.”
I want to tell him the only reason I like Fridays are because of him. It’s on the tip of my tongue. It tickles and teases for escape. My teeth clamp down. I curl my hand into a fist and slam it down on the dash.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Tyler is silent as he puts the car in drive. Uneasiness rises and falls inside me. Like those carnival games we used to play with Dad where we’d shoot water at the target and see how high we could make the frogs rise. Tyler always made his frog rise to the top. I could never get my frog off the bottom.
“While you’re with Dr. Cohen today, I need to run by the store on the corner. Is that going to be okay?” His voice is strained. Shaky almost. I want to grip my brother by the jaw and pry out the words he’s hiding inside him. They’re hiding deep, ebbing from him like ripples on the surface of a lake. Something’s making the water move. I want to know what.
My lips twitch. The words teeter on my tongue, tipping this way and that, but they don’t ever fall from my mouth. Why are you going to that store, brother? Tell me why.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
“I’ll take your silence as approval. I won’t be gone long.”
I steal a glance at him. Sweat beads at his temple and his skin is pallid. I take a mental note to do some investigating when I get home to my computer.
“Oh,” he says as he turns down the street that leads us to Dr. Cohen’s. “I heard back from Tucker Shaw. The Oklahoma site we’ve been eyeing is finally for sale. I’ll email the specs to you.”
He doesn’t have to email the specs, though. The moment he emailed me showing his interest in the property, I researched everything about it. Land records. Historical data. Seismic activity in the area. Everything. It’s what I do. It’s one of the few things that makes me feel worthy.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
I remain silent, but I want to tell him the site is a steal. I’ve looked at the maps and have determined it’s a perfect location to slap down our rigs and pump out more of our fortune. Sometimes I wish my goddamned mouth worked.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Tyler pulls into a parking spot and I tear my gaze from my lap to the front of the building. I remember seeing Casey bent over reaching for the same penny I’d seen. Closing my eyes, I try to remember her face that day. Her brows were furled together and her lips were pursed. I couldn’t make sense of her expression. I can’t make sense of anyone’s expressions. But when our eyes met, I felt something deep inside of me. I’d wanted to grab her hand and shove the penny into it. To explain to her the history of money and its evolution. To show her every coin in my collection—to explain the meaning behind each one.
Instead, I’d simply stared at her.
With my stupid mouth clamped shut.
“Casey-Casey,” I grumble.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Tyler reaches over and clutches his hand on my knee. A desperate need radiates from him, but I don’t know how to fill it. I wish my brain would shut the fuck up for five minutes and seek out a solution. I wish the data and numbers and information would still so that I could learn what it is that makes my brother tick. To delve inside his mind and pull out his secrets. So many secrets.
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” he assures me. “I’ll walk you in.”
“NO!” My voice is loud and sharp and hurts my own damn ears. I wish I could rip out my tongue to keep from barking shit out, but I can’t. The words just escape when they want to and how they want to.
I want to tell him I’ll be fine. I’m twenty-five years old. I can manage walking in by myself, just like I do at the bank. Instead, I yell again. “NO!”
Tyler doesn’t flinch or recoil like everyone else. He simply pats my knee. “Okay, Torin. I’ll be back before your session is over.”
I yank the door open and slam it behind me. My body is tense and it begs to turn back to look at my brother. But my brain and body fight against each other like always. I fixate on the concrete as I stomp into the building. I push past a woman and she cries out when my body clips hers, nearly knocking her over. My fingers twitch to reach out and comfort her, but I don’t. I mumble words that don’t make sense and throw myself in the first chair I find in the lobby.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Dr. Cohen says I’m stubborn. That if I want to get better I will.
Nobody wants to get better more than I do. Dr. Cohen is just a fucking quack.
“Torin Kline,” the receptionist calls out. “You forgot to sign in.”
My body finally lets my mind call the shots and I jerk my head to look out the window, seeking my brother out. The car is gone. And with his absence, my heart is gone too.
“Torin Kline—”
“NO!” I yell at her.
A little kid starts crying and I want to tell her I wasn’t trying to scare her. But my body is back to wigging out. I rock in my chair with my hands fisted. Dr. Cohen will come for me. I won’t have to sign in.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
My throat is hoarse and my eyes sting.
I’ve read up on this.
It’s pain. Internal pain. Sadness. Uncertainty. All emotions “they” say I can’t feel. I feel them all fucking right. They just don’t know how to rise to the surface.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
I cling to the only control I have. Clenching my eyes shut, I think back to yesterday. Back to the way Casey stared up at me with a beautiful smile on her face when she’d seen the penny on the ATV seat.
The buzzing in my veins quietens.
The ever-present ache of tense muscles in my neck lessens.
The tightness in my chest relaxes.
I’ll give you all the pennies, Casey.
I’ll give you them all.