Chapter 46
Andrew
It’s March twenty-eighth. A Monday. Robert’s eighteenth birthday.
Kiki is pushing Spot around the house in a toy stroller and babbling to him like he’s a real baby. I smile when she stops so I can pet him. We’ve withdrawn her from Ms. Smith’s Village now that money is so tight. It gives me something to do with my long days and keeps me from going completely mad. I’m not under house arrest, but it sure feels like it.
“Spot thirsty,” she says to me in her most grown-up voice.
“He is? Well, maybe we should get him a drink.” I go to the cabinet and remove a sippy cup, then pretend to fill it with apple juice from the refrigerator.
She takes it from me with a very serious look on her face, then gives the stuffed dog a two-second drink. “Daddy thirsty too,” she says, handing the cup back to me.
“I am.” I pretend to take a drink, which seems to delight her.
She scuttles off with Spot, and I’m left clutching the cell phone in my hand. My own phone is still being held in evidence; this is a cheap prepaid phone that Maya bought so I’d have a way to call her or 911 if necessary. I haven’t dared use it for any other purpose.
I have never felt this low in my entire life. Not even after Kevin. I feel worthless—no career, no job, no income, no choices, no life. I feel like Maya is my mother, and I’m some impetuous child who’s had to be harnessed for his own good.
Just last night, after Jen left, Maya told me she’d contacted a Realtor about putting the house up for sale. She wants us to move back to Oklahoma and start over. She’s already talked to my parents about moving in with them for a while after this school year ends, just until we can find new jobs, just until we can find our own place to live, just until we can get back on our feet.
All this we, we, we is making me crazy. I don’t want a we with Maya. I want a me. Even so, I do sometimes think about it now. Just giving in. Being what she wants me to be—husband, lover. Sometimes it feels safe, like a place where I can hide from all the bad things. But at other times, I feel like I can’t breathe when she’s in the room. No. Right or wrong, I’m in love with that kid, and there’s no going back. I’m not so sure where forward will lead me, but back is not an option.
His birthday.
“Kiki! Hey, baby girl, you want to go for some ice cream?”
Maybe I am impetuous, and maybe I will regret this later, but it’s his birthday, and he will have flowers. In the H-E-B floral department, I choose a small clear round bowl tightly packed with hot pink roses, light pink carnations, and white daisies with green centers. The flowers are bright and beautiful, just like him, and they smell like happiness, which is exactly what I wish for him on his birthday. Just that—happiness.
I set the basket with the chocolate ice cream on the floor and take a small card from the display. I’ve been thinking about what I want to say since we got in the car. I borrow a pen from the florist person and scribble a quick note, then tuck the note into an envelope and stick it in the little pitchfork jutting out from the flowers.
“This is our little secret, right?” I say to Kiki.
She holds her finger to her lips and says, “Shhh.”
“That’s right. Shhh.”
We’re checking out when a woman in black jogging pants with a matching zip-up jacket leans over the counter past the bagger and fixes me with cold eyes. “That little girl deserves better.” She storms off. The checker avoids my eyes as she hands me the receipt.
We leave the flowers in the shade on Robert’s front porch, and then hightail it home.
Robert
“Happy fucking birthday to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke says. “You want to go get something to eat? My treat? You don’t turn eighteen every day, you know.”
I bang my head against the band lockers, then get to my feet. From across the room, I see Caleb heading our way. “Thanks, but I just want to go home.”
“Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head. “No. Maybe Ms. Momin is right. Maybe he really doesn’t want to see me.”
“Hey,” Caleb says, planting himself in front of us. “I just wanted to say happy birthday.”
I look up at him. “Thanks, Caleb. Where’s the rest of my fan club?”
He smiles sheepishly. “I took the fan page down. It was kind of a stupid thing to do. I hope there’re no hard feelings.”
“Thanks.”
He fidgets around. A month ago I would have found this irritating. It’s not so irritating.
“I also wanted to tell you that, well, I told off Stephen Newman the other day. He said something pretty rude about Mr. McNelis. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. I mean, if you like him that much, he must be a pretty good guy.”
“Yeah.”
There is one thing I’m looking forward to on my birthday—getting home to Spot II. His paws and his belly have healed, and he acts now like I’m God himself when I get home each day. This is why I’m so disconcerted when I pull into the driveway and see Nic waiting for me on the front porch. He’s holding a glass bowl of pink and white flowers, real ones this time. He hands them to me when I get to the porch. An envelope peeks up from the center.
“I haven’t seen you in forever,” he says, pushing his sunglasses up to his forehead and squinting at me.
“I saw you at lunch just yesterday, Nic.”
“You know what I mean. Anyway, I wanted to say happy birthday.”
I move past him to unlock the door but he grabs my arm and stops me.
“You broke up with me because of him, right? Well, I want you to know that I forgive you for that. He totally took advantage of you, and it’s not your fault that you’re a pushover. But that’s okay. I like that about you.”
I jerk my arm away and open the door, then whip back around. “Get off my front porch.” I shove the flowers back in his hands. He starts to protest, but I say, “Don’t,” and he rolls his eyes at me.
“Why do you have to be so dramatic about everything?” he says.
I want to laugh in his face. Instead, I turn my back on him, enter the house, and shut the door.