Every Other Weekend

by Abigail Johnson

  Guy held up his hands. “Look, no pressure. I’d love to know what you think of it, but if you’d rather wait, maybe go see it in the theater with...” His eyes flicked toward Adam’s door as his voice trailed off.

  My throat went tight. Watching movies with Adam might not be an option anymore.

  And Guy was offering me exactly what I’d asked for.

  I followed him into his apartment.

  Adam:

  Hey.

  Jolene:

  Hey.

  Adam:

  It’s so weird being here and not seeing you.

  Jolene:

  I’ve been working so I guess I didn’t think about it.

  Adam:

  It’ll be weird when you think about it. Trust me.

  Jolene:

  Okay.

  Adam:

  How’s the application going so far?

  Jolene:

  I need to do more work on the film I made you.

  Adam:

  It’s perfect.

  Jolene:

  The version I gave you was a rough cut. Trust me.

  Adam:

  How about the essay? Want me to look at any changes?

  Jolene:

  You already helped me a lot. I think I’m good with finishing it on my own.

  Adam:

  What about your letter? That movie critic seemed like kind of a jerk.

  Jolene:

  That’s basically a defining trait for movie critics.

  Adam:

  So you’ll try to talk to him?

  Jolene:

  I already did.

  Adam:

  You did? When?

  Jolene:

  Earlier today.

  Adam:

  And you asked him about writing you a letter?

  Jolene:

  Yeah, and he was cool about it. He needs to make sure I’m serious, so he wants to test my knowledge of cinema first. Stuff like that.

  Adam:

  Seriously, he’s giving you homework?

  Jolene:

  It’s not homework. He wants me to watch movies.

  Adam:

  Okay, but if he tries to make you watch Citizen Kane, lie and say you already saw it.

  Jolene:

  Citizen Kane is like the most famous movie ever made.

  Adam:

  It’s also the dullest. I had to watch it in school once.

  Jolene:

  I’ll watch whatever he wants. I need that letter.

  Adam:

  Fine, but I’m not letting you suffer through Citizen Kane alone. I’ll watch it with you.

  Jolene:

  You’re offering to watch the dullest movie ever made with me?

  Adam:

  So you have seen it!

  Jolene:

  When exactly do you plan to watch it with me?

  Adam:

  Maybe I can climb onto your balcony one night after my dad goes to sleep.

  Jolene:

  Adam. The balcony is covered in like three inches of ice. You’ll die. I’ll feel bad. And I’ll still have to watch Citizen Kane.

  Adam:

  It’s not three inches of ice.

  Jolene:

  Oh yeah? Go look.

  Adam:

  It’s two inches tops.

  Jolene:

  And you can insist on that fact the whole time you are screaming and plummeting to your death.

  Adam:

  I’d risk it for you.

  Jolene:

  Duly noted, but so far he hasn’t said anything about Citizen Kane.

  Adam:

  I think I might be able to get away for a little while tomorrow. Maybe an hour.

  Jolene:

  I really need to keep working on my application, but I’ll let you know.

  Adam:

  Okay.

  Jolene:

  Bye.

  Adam:

  Bye.

  Jolene

  I dashed out of my apartment early on Sunday morning to avoid having to say anything to Shelly and practically ran into Adam.

  “Oof,” he said, his arms coming up around me to balance both of us. “You always come barreling out of your door like that?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t know, since you always make me come to you.”

  Adam dropped his arms and moved back, his neck going blotchy red.

  I made a sound in the back of my throat and my stomach knotted. “I didn’t mean that. I’ve been dealing with Shelly, and... I’m sorry, okay?”

  He looked slightly mollified when I mentioned Shelly. He knew that few things could set me off like an interaction with her. But I’d still been way harsher to him than he ever deserved.

  “Can we...?” I gestured at my door, making it clear that I wanted to put some distance between me and my apartment. Adam stopped when we reached his door.

  I glanced between it and him and took in the suddenly sheepish way he’d shoved his hands in his pockets. “You can’t hang out, can you?”

  He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

  “Five minutes again, or do we get a whole ten?” I wasn’t being fair. I wasn’t even being smart, because I’d nearly killed myself on our last weekend trying to convince him that I was fine spending less time together.

  “I’m going to church with my dad and brother in a few minutes.”

  A few minutes. So not even five. “Well, that explains the necktie.”

  “I hate this,” he said.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” I angled my head at his chest. “I think you’re pulling off the green pinstripe.”

  Adam didn’t show a trace of annoyance at my deliberate misunderstanding. “You know what I mean.”

  I did know and I hated it, too. “It’s okay,” I said. “What can you do?”

  “I’m trying to talk to my mom more, but I don’t know if it’s helping. She still hasn’t come up to see my dad.”

  “I know,” I said, softening my voice for the first time.

  “You know?” Adam frowned before a slight smile replaced it. “You were watching for me? Why didn’t you come down? You could have met her, and I wouldn’t have had to wait another entire day to see you.” His hands came out of his pockets and he extended the fingers of one hand to brush against the back of mine. Warmth tingled over my skin. “I wouldn’t have had to wait to...” He shifted closer and the hand that brushed mine encircled it. My eyes fell to his lips at the same time his settled on mine. I rose onto my toes without thinking.

  And the door opened across from us.

  Guy. He had a trash bag in his hands. He saw us, his gaze sliding to where Adam held my hand, and I pulled it free. Guy didn’t say anything, just turned and headed down the stairs, but I knew with stomach-souring certainty it’d be the first thing he mentioned the next time we were alone.

  The door that opened next was Adam’s.

  There was his dad, dressed as nicely as Adam, and Jeremy, who was in the process of lynching himself with his own tie.

  “Morning, Jolene,” Adam’s dad said. Jeremy was too busy fighting with his necktie to do more than glance in my direction and give me a head nod.

  “Morning.”

  “Hey, why don’t you come with us?” Adam said before his jaw flexed and he forced himself to turn to his dad like he was out of practice and the muscles in his body were resisting. “If you don’t mind.”

  “We’d love to have you,” his dad said, and I actually believed he meant it. When Adam looked back at me expectantly, it was too much. I was supposed to be giving his family the space they needed, not inserting myself into more of his life.

  “Thank
s, but I don’t have anything to wear.” I gestured at the yoga pants and oversize Chewbacca-wearing-sunglasses sweatshirt I had on.

  Adam’s gaze never left my face. “It doesn’t matter what you wear.”

  And he couldn’t even make it easier for me by being a jerk. “Maybe another time, okay?”

  With a nod, Adam’s dad held out an arm for his sons to precede him. Jeremy gave up on his tie and tucked it into his pocket before starting down the stairs.

  I expected Adam to leave just as silently, but he didn’t. Instead he brushed my hand again. Right in front of his dad. It made me grin as he left, though I shouldn’t have let it.

  And I was still grinning when Guy came back.

  “Guess that went well.”

  I blushed as red as Adam ever did. “We were just talking.”

  “Sure,” Guy said. “So you want to come over and just talk to me?”

  The heat from thinking about Adam ran cold.

  Guy laughed. “It was a joke, Jolene. Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

  “I didn’t think it was funny.”

  “Right, because I need to watch more comedies.” He unlocked his door and pushed it open. “I’ll let you pick this time.”

  I perked up at that. He didn’t sound like he was in a bad mood, and anything was better than going back to the apartment with Shelly. Plus, I hadn’t gotten to choose a single movie that we’d watched so far, and Guy’s taste ran more art house and old. He had nearly everything, and I settled on What We Do in the Shadows, a vampire mockumentary that might or might not have made me laugh so hard that I’d peed my pants the first time I watched it.

  We were both laughing on his couch before long. Just about the time Taika Waititi was placing newspapers around his date/meal-to-be so that her blood wouldn’t stain his carpet, Guy paused the movie.

  “I feel like pizza. You want?”

  Not glancing away from the TV, I said, “Sure, if you’re buying.”

  “And what if I said you need to pay?”

  “Then I’d say I’ll have to settle for digging through your fridge instead.” I started to get up but Guy tugged me back down.

  “I’ll cover the pizza.”

  I grinned. “Thanks.”

  And then Guy kissed me.

  I pulled back immediately. “What are you doing?”

  He laughed, stood up, and headed to the kitchen, where he’d left his phone. “You don’t think buying the pizza’s worth a kiss?” He tapped the screen. “What do you feel like? Sausage and peppers? Pesto chicken...”

  Not really listening, I lifted my fingers to my lips. I looked up to find Guy’s eyes on me.

  “Come on, Jo. It was just a little kiss. Don’t you ever kiss your friends? You looked like you were about to kiss your other neighbor earlier.”

  “Yeah, but he’s—”

  “He’s what? Your boyfriend?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what’s the big deal?” He slammed his phone down. “You kiss some friends but not others? Or am I wrong and we aren’t friends? ’Cause you’re over here a lot for someone who just wants a letter out of me. And if you’re going to jump every time I sit next to you—”

  “I don’t—”

  “—or give you a casual peck, then there’s the door. I have better things to do. Maybe you should go back to your apartment and—”

  “Mushrooms,” I said. “Can we get mushrooms on the pizza?” My ears were ringing, and I was clutching the pillow in my lap.

  Guy shook his head slightly and looked at his hands splayed on the counter.

  I closed my eyes, then opened them. “And I’m sorry. You surprised me is all. You’re right, it was nothing and we are friends. I do need you to write me that letter, but I also like coming over here. Please don’t make me go. I don’t—I have nowhere to go. Please.”

  We held eye contact for long seconds, then Guy picked up his phone and dialed. Still looking at me, he lifted it to his ear. I didn’t start to breathe again until he said, “Yeah, for delivery. Mushrooms.”

  ADAM

  At home on Sunday night, I was half-asleep when I heard quiet knocking on the back door in the kitchen. I rolled over in my bed to check the time. It was close to midnight. Sitting up, I listened.

  I knew Mom was still up. Some nights, it was like she was keeping watch to make sure no one came in or out while she was sleeping. She’d never rest again if she knew that meant nothing bad would ever happen to her remaining sons.

  From upstairs I heard her chair slide across the wooden floor in the kitchen, as though she had scooted back from the table.

  I listened to her walk toward the back door and then stop before reaching it. Whoever she saw through the window didn’t make her call out for Jeremy or me, but she wasn’t moving either. I was out of bed in a heartbeat, hurrying down the hall, my sock-covered feet nearly slipping down the narrow, steep, twisting staircase that had been original to the house when it was built in the 1850s.

  I reached the kitchen as Mom opened the door, revealing Daniel on our back porch.

  Déjà vu hit me hard. There’d been so many nights growing up when I’d wake up and find Daniel in our kitchen with Mom. Sometimes Greg would be there, too. Sometimes Daniel wouldn’t even come inside. Mom always acted like it was completely normal for him to come knocking on our kitchen door late at night, even if he was visibly hurt. It was like she knew that a startled or overly compassionate response from her would send him running. I think that was where Greg got his easy touch with animals. She’d leave the door open and turn away, say something about how she was getting herself a cup of tea and offer to pour him one, too. Sometimes it would take the entire pot before he’d let her tend whatever injury he had.

  Most of the time, Daniel’s injuries weren’t physical though, and talking to him, sometimes until the sun came up, was the only comfort she could give him.

  Watching Daniel, who looked so much older than he’d been the last time he came to our back door, I knew this visit wasn’t about him seeking solace from her.

  For one, Mom was the one who went still and skittish. I’d been so happy when I ran into Daniel a few weeks ago, even though I couldn’t see him or think about him without remembering Greg—maybe because of that. But Mom didn’t want to think about Greg, or rather, she did, but on her very controlled terms.

  Daniel showing up after more than two years, forcing those memories on her, had to be a shock. His gaze flicked over Mom’s shoulder to me, and I drew back into the shadow of the stairway, mindful to avoid stepping on the creaky floorboard. It felt like my being there would make things different, maybe easier for Mom, but not in a way that might make things better.

  “Daniel?” Her back was to me, but I could imagine her eyes cataloging his face, noticing the new scar on his eyebrow and taking in all the ways he’d changed since she saw him last. I knew, for her, that also meant seeing the extra years that Greg never got to have.

  “Hi, Mrs. Moynihan.”

  Instinct snapped her into motion after that. She beckoned him inside and put the kettle on the stove to boil, her body seeming to tell her what to do even when her mind might have refused.

  He watched the stiff line of her shoulders and the rapid blinking of her eyes.

  “I ran into Adam in the city a few weeks ago. Did he tell you?”

  Mom’s arm stilled in the process of pulling the honey bear bottle down from the cabinet next to the fridge. “No, he didn’t mention it.”

  “I met a friend of his, too, a girl.”

  I thought I almost saw Mom smile as she turned. “Jolene.”

  Daniel nodded. “He seemed happy.”

  Mom inclined her head a little and sat down across from him, placing two steaming mugs on the table.

  “But he told me that things aren’t...good.
”

  Unflinching, Mom shook her head and stirred honey into her mug. “No, we’re okay. We’re all okay. It’s hard when they go to their dad’s, but we’re okay.”

  Daniel was the one to flinch, and he did it every time she said the word okay. I hadn’t told him about my parents’ separation, but he seemed to take that revelation in stride. He’d liked my dad fine, but Dad moving out wouldn’t necessarily affect him the way it did the rest of us. I would guess it meant something to him only because it hurt her.

  “I meant to come by sooner. I must have driven by a dozen times.”

  Mom focused on the swirling liquid in her mug. “I’m sure you were busy.”

  “I wasn’t,” he said, his bluntness catching her off guard so that her spoon clinked against her mug. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

  “No.” Mom squeezed her eyes shut before opening them. “That’s not true.”

  “I didn’t want you to have to see me.”

  She didn’t react to that, as if she’d been expecting him to say something along those lines.

  Daniel lowered his arms under the table. “I didn’t want you to pretend to smile at me and tell me it was okay when we both know I’m the reason he’s gone.”

  She sucked in a breath that was mostly a sob.

  “Anyway, I’m leaving soon. My mom will be getting out of the hospital next month, and I’ve already got most of her stuff packed.”

  Her watery eyes focused on him. “I’m so sorry, Daniel.”

  “It’s gonna be better, a new start...without him.”

  Mom reached out a hand, and her fingers lightly tapped the table, asking for his. Daniel kept his hands in his lap. “No, that’s not why—” He lowered his head. “I never told you why I didn’t come that night.” Mom’s fingers curled back, and I felt mine mirroring hers. “I never told you, because I don’t have a good reason. He wasn’t drinking or mad, and she wasn’t scared. I just didn’t want to leave her when she was happy.”

  Mom’s shoulders shook, and Daniel’s voice broke.

  “That was a night I could have left her. I should have been here. Greg should have been in his house, and you wouldn’t be sitting here now, crying. My mom, she’s hurt so bad now, and I—”

  Mom pushed back her chair and walked to him. At first she just put a hand on his shoulder, and then the other came up to grip his arm. I could tell it was hard for her.