Every Other Weekend

by Abigail Johnson

  “Adam, Adam, Adam.” Greg’s half-teasing voice started playing and Jeremy and I both froze. “Why do you even have a phone? So, listen, I’m bringing another dog home and I haven’t found a home for Baloo, so obviously Mom and Dad can’t know.”

  Jeremy’s gaze lifted to mine, his mouth opened like he wanted to ask a question but didn’t want to risk talking over our brother’s voice.

  “I need you to move Baloo to the other cage in the barn, the one with the blue dog bed. But watch his leg, because he’ll bite you if you pull his stitches. Maybe get Jeremy to help—”

  Jeremy’s face twitched and he sat forward, his hand drifting toward but not touching the phone when Greg said his name.

  Caught between the memory like I always was and the sight of Jeremy hearing Greg’s voice, I didn’t move as the rest of the message played. I didn’t even stop him when he replayed it.

  “How do you have this?” he asked when it ended the second time, but what he really meant was how do you have this but you’ve never played it for me?

  I took a slow step toward him, intending to pick up the phone and reassure myself that the voice mail was still safe and saved, but the second I moved, Jeremy looked up. His eyes were flooded, and he simultaneously looked like I’d given him the greatest gift of his life and tried to keep it from him all at once.

  My stomach twisted. It wasn’t like I’d set out to keep it from him. After Greg died and I realized it was the last message he’d ever send me, I’d listened to it over and over again until it became a ritual. Whenever I thought about Jeremy and how he might want to hear it, I’d tell myself that he probably had a saved voice mail of his own.

  But watching Jeremy replay Greg’s message for the third time, I saw instantly how wrong I’d been.

  I sat down next to my brother, seeing the way his eyes swam as he got to hear our brother again. “Jer, I’m sorry.”

  Jeremy nodded, not taking his eyes from the phone. The air I drew into my lungs turned thick and heavy, as though it fought every breath I took, not wanting to be inside me anymore than I did. And I didn’t know how to make it better.

  “I should have played it for you from the start.”

  He sniffed, then rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm, and nodded again. Or he started to nod but the gesture morphed into something more ambiguous. “We were better with him, the three of us, you know?”

  I sucked my lips in, nodding when the pressure built behind my eyes and the words wouldn’t come.

  “He knew what to say to you.” Jeremy turned to me, his eyes still wet. He slapped his palm with the back of the other hand to punctuate his next words. “Like, every time, he knew what to say to you. That’s not me. I don’t know how to talk to you. If it’d been me instead of him gone—” He choked on his own words and forced his eyes wide as he glanced away. “This wouldn’t have happened.” He made a gesture that encompassed not just Dad’s apartment and the fact that our family was living apart, but also me and him and the way our relationship had frayed over the past couple years. “He’d never have let it get like this, and I tried, but I’m not him. I don’t know how to be him with Mom or Dad. Or you.” He shook his head. “You think I don’t get that, that you’re the only one who’s smart enough to see how much better he was at everything, but I know.”

  It was so wrong that I wanted to laugh, and the sound that came out of me was much harsher, more broken than a laugh. “And you think I know what to say to you? To any of you?” Jeremy wasn’t the only one who came up short. And it wasn’t that I thought I was so much smarter than him by realizing how far short we fell compared to Greg, it was that I hoped he didn’t feel it, too.

  Because it felt like this gut-twisting emptiness. The grief was bad enough, but knowing that Greg had left behind a role that Jeremy and I were expected to fill for each other—one we couldn’t possibly take on—was sometimes worse in a way.

  “I’ll never be as good as he was. I push, and I push, and even when I’m telling myself to stop—” I stabbed my fingers into my sternum “—I push harder. I make you mad, because I don’t know how to do anything else.” I sucked in as much of the thick air as I could, feeling my chest rise and hurt. Because everything hurt. All the time. “How did he do it, huh?” The words came out as a whisper, soft yet guttural. “Tell me, ’cause I can’t figure it out any more than you can.”

  I was so close to losing that last bit of hold I had over myself. My eyes were welling up, and I knew the second I blinked, they’d spill over. And I still couldn’t breathe right. The air wouldn’t come, and then it’d come too fast, too much. “It’s not just you. I’m not him either.”

  Jeremy considered me for a moment, staring hard, seeing everything, so much more than I’d ever given him credit for. Then he snorted. “I’m the older brother—the oldest brother now. I’m supposed to keep you in line and have your back. I’m supposed to be the one you can come talk to when stuff gets messed up.”

  “And I’m supposed to talk you down, have your back. I’m supposed to be someone you can talk to, too.”

  “Yeah.” Jeremy scoffed and he pulled off the near laugh far better than I had. “Except you’re an arrogant little punk most of the time.”

  A sound came out of me, more a surprised exhale than anything, but the sound that followed on its heels lifted my mouth on one side. I glanced sideways at him. “And you’re a short-tempered idiot.”

  He laughed. So did I. True laughter. Some of the tightness loosened in my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not ever gonna be him, but I’ll try to be better than I’ve been.”

  “Yeah?” He lifted an eyebrow. “’Cause you sucked a lot this past year.”

  I made sure Jeremy saw me rotate my jaw in annoyance and he cracked a smile.

  “I guess I have to. You’ve been a little better here lately. I don’t want you to think I don’t see that, but that crap last night?” He shook his head. “Greg would have torn you a new one, too.”

  Remembering why last night had happened, my jaw stayed tight. “No, Greg would have gone with me to kick someone’s ass.”

  Jeremy frowned. “Who, Dad?”

  “You think I’d have risked ruining everything good that’s happening with all of us to start something with Dad? That Jolene would let me if I tried?”

  His frown started to smooth and then drew sharply back together as he turned his head to the wall that divided our apartment from Jolene’s. “She said something happened...” His face was perfectly smooth, almost scarily so, when he turned back to me. “To her? Somebody... Do you know?”

  My hands clenched into fists. “Yeah, I know.”

  He nodded. In less than a heartbeat, he was on his feet, cracking his neck from side to side. “Well, all right.”

  My gaze followed him up. “What, just like that? You’re not gonna ask...?”

  He extended a hand to me. “Do I need to?”

  The last bit of pressure in my chest left as I realized he didn’t. I needed him to have my back and he had it, no questions asked. Because he was my brother. Not the one I lost, the one he could never replace for me any more than I could for him, but the one I still had. He didn’t need to be Greg. I didn’t need to be Greg. It only took us two years to understand that sometimes, more than sometimes, it was that simple.

  I drew in a deep breath and took my brother’s hand.

  He only raised an eyebrow at me when I walked out into the hall and stopped in front of Guy’s apartment.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  My one-word answer was good enough for Jeremy. Together we pounded the door until it opened.

  Guy’s look of confusion lifted when he passed over Jeremy and saw me. Something of my intent must have been clear on my face, because Guy held both his palms up toward us.

  “Oh, hey, Adam, righ
t? Listen, I don’t know what Jolene told you, but she’s a little messed up and—”

  I cut him off with my fist. I didn’t have the mass that my brother did, but Guy hadn’t been expecting me to deck him, and he staggered back. I didn’t advance, but Jeremy did. He landed a solid gut punch and Guy went down to one knee. I didn’t hesitate before kicking him in the nuts so hard that Guy nearly threw up.

  I’d thought we’d beat him to a pulp, but now that I was standing over him while he whimpered on the floor, the urge left. Instead I went down next to him and lowered my voice so that my brother wouldn’t hear. “Stay away from Jolene. Don’t ever touch another girl, you sick piece of rat filth. And you need to find another place to live.” I stood up and walked to his massive shelf of movies. As soon as Jeremy saw what I intended to do, he went to the other side. Together, we knocked it onto the floor with a crash.

  Guy was still gasping and trying to catch his breath when we left.

  “You good?” Jeremy asked in the hallway.

  “Yeah,” I said. “And thanks.”

  Jeremy glanced back at Guy’s apartment. “You sure we hit him hard enough?”

  I shook out my hand, trying to bring the feeling back. “I don’t think hard enough exists.”

  FOURTEENTH WEEKEND

  March 26–28

  Jolene

  Adam was wearing a sleeping bag the next time I saw him, like, literally wearing it. Winter had finally started to admit defeat, but it was still more than cold outside.

  “That’s a good look,” I told him as we stood on our respective balconies. It had been the longest two weeks I could ever remember.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  I wished he hadn’t. I didn’t want to talk about it and had been racked with regret ever since I told him. Knowing that Adam knew made everything with Guy feel more real.

  “I’m fine. Do you have any idea how boring these last two weeks have been?”

  “I missed you, too,” Adam said. Sometimes Adam’s bald statements made me uncomfortable. I could never come right out and tell him I missed him like that.

  “Are you still persona non grata with your family?”

  “Ah, no, not exactly. Jeremy and I are actually good. Better than we’ve been since my parents split. I think he may have said something to my dad, too, because he and my mom decided I’m only going to be grounded for the month. Next time I’m here, we won’t have to freeze to death to talk.”

  “Really? Your brother went to bat for you?”

  “And he said I can get a onetime use of his phone, so if something important comes up, we can talk. He’ll text you from his phone so you have the number.”

  “It’s disgusting how much people like you. When I last saw Jeremy, he was practically making the sign of the cross at me. How do you do it, and can you teach me?” I had to lean farther out to catch Adam’s smile. His expression shifted into something else, like when you see the sunrise.

  “Something else happened, or is happening. My mom came to support group with us. Twice. She and my dad are talking about meeting with someone together, too. I’m really proud of her. She’s not, you know, instantly better or anything, and she hasn’t talked at any of the meetings yet, but she was better than me the first time I went. She sat in a chair and everything. I mean, that’s good, right?”

  My stomach sank and I had to look down so he wouldn’t see my face crumble. “Yeah.”

  “And my dad’s been coming to dinner nearly every night. I don’t know if they’re specifically working toward reconciling, or if they’re just trying to see how they feel around each other again. But today, when my mom watched Jeremy and me drive away, it was the first time she didn’t cry. This is what I wanted from her, from both of them—to try.” He shrugged and looked at me.

  I tried to return his smile but it wobbled.

  “That isn’t what I wanted us to talk about. Or not the only thing.”

  Warning lights started flashing in my head and I let Adam see a chill shake through my body. “I didn’t think to wear my sleeping bag. I’m going to have to head in and thaw out. Plus you have family dinner soon, so, later?”

  Adam was clearly reluctant to let me go, but I couldn’t say another word. I kept my smile on till I slid the door and curtain closed behind me, then I let myself sink to the floor.

  Whole-body sobs shook me. They were so loud that they echoed around my room. And they fed each subsequent sob, growing louder and almost violent until I forced my hands to my mouth. I tried to muffle the sound, stem the tears and gasps for air, but I couldn’t.

  How horrible was I that my stomach sank when Adam told me about his parents? I should have been happy for him, for them, especially his mom. If there was a chance his family could be put back together, I should be happy.

  But I wasn’t.

  The moment he’d said the word reconciling, daggers had seemed to pierce my chest, sliding deep and cutting bone. I’d never have that. Adam’s broken family was more than mine had ever been whole. They were mending. Soon his dad would move back home, and I’d be more alone than before Adam came. The thought was so unbearable that I gagged on it.

  I heard nothing but the audible sound of my own misery. Not the door opening nor the soft footsteps drawing near. When a hand settled on my shoulder, I didn’t look up before curling into the offered arm and burying my face into a shoulder.

  Her soft lilac perfume penetrated my senses before my eyes or ears recognized Shelly. Even when I realized who was crouched down and stroking my hair, I couldn’t let go. I was too wretched to reject comfort of any kind when I was so seldom offered it.

  A thought punctured my misery. Shelly was starved almost as much as I was. She had no family, no steady job, nothing but Dad and the scraps of affection he gave her.

  Slowly, agonizingly slowly, my sobs ebbed. Weariness began to replace despair. Little things began to register, like the jade pendant of Shelly’s necklace digging into my cheek, the uncomfortable angle of my leg folded beneath me, the muscles in my hands, still clenched in her shirt, beginning to cramp. Other random things. Any one by itself might not have been enough, but the culmination made me pull back and reveal the damage my tears had done. The wet fabric and smeared black mascara, I’d expected; the tears streaming down Shelly’s face, I hadn’t.

  “Why are you crying?”

  Her hand lifted to her cheek, like she needed to test the truth of my words. When her fingers came away wet, she pushed to her feet and hurried into my bathroom. I saw her lean over the sink and splash water on her face, then dry it with a hand towel. When she returned and held out the towel, I took it.

  “I’d thought we’d be friends eventually,” she said. “I really did.”

  I gave her a look that she had no trouble interpreting.

  “I know. I didn’t see back then. I didn’t want to.”

  The towel was damp from where she’d dried her face, and the coolness felt good against my flushed skin. When I had a firm hold on my emotions, I half extended the towel toward her. “I’m sorry I ruined your shirt. I’ll pay for a new one.”

  Her brows drew together and she shook her head slightly. “Jo, I—I don’t care about a stupid shirt. I care about—” She bit the word off, knowing she’d kill the momentary cease-fire that hung tenuously between us. “Are you okay?”

  I starred at her with my swollen red eyes. “No, Shelly. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay for a long time, but that’s not your problem, is it?”

  She looked down at floor. “I’m not a bad person,” she whispered. “I’m really not. I never set out to hurt anyone.”

  Like me. Like my mother.

  I couldn’t yell at her the way I normally did, not when her shoulder was wet from my tears. But I couldn’t console her either, not when she’d played a role in all our lives ending up this way. “I loved you, a
nd you used me to get to my dad.” My voice cracked but I kept going. “You committed adultery with him, helped him lie to my mom, and now you play warden with me twice a month so he can continue to screw her over, whether she deserves it or not. You say you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you did. You still are.”

  “I know,” she said so softly I barely heard it. “Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?”

  I wanted it to be that easy, but all the pieces of me were broken inside and a word wouldn’t put them back together. “Sorry doesn’t change anything.”

  “I’m sorry, Jolene.” And then she started to tear up again.

  “Is he worth it, really?”

  It took her close to a minute, but she reined it in. “No, he’s not. I lost everything I ever cared about because of him, people and time that I’ll never get back.” She looked down at the towel she still held, the one that was smeared with my mascara as well as hers. “Why were you crying?”

  “No.” My bluntness made her flinch. “I can’t do that with you. You’re not going to braid my hair while I tell you that Adam’s dad is probably going to move back home soon, or that I lost my friendship with Cherry, or that the Roman Polanski wannabe across the hall isn’t going to write me the letter I need to get into the film program. It’s never going to be the way it was. So stop trying. Please.”

  As always, Shelly was spot-on with the takeaway. “Who’s Roman Polanski?”

  I slowly closed my eyes and then shot them open again when Guy’s face filled my mind. My stomach launched itself into my throat. “He’s a director who likes teenage girls. Just forget it.” I started to push to my feet, but Shelly caught my hand.