by Jo Raven
“Bloody?” I stop. Ice spreads through me. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. A little shaken up. He won’t talk about what happened, of course.”
Of course. Another thought strikes me. “Why is he with you? I thought my dad was at home?”
“I don’t know, kid,” says Charlie. “Miles came here. I wasn’t gonna turn him away, was I? Especially with the bruises and all.”
“Right, right. Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” More than words can say. They’ve got two children of their own. Granted, they’re both adults now, my age, living on their own and working, but still… “Can you keep him until I get back? Won’t be for another couple of hours.”
“Sure thing. I’ll give him something to eat, don’t worry.”
Dammit. “Listen, Charlie, I’ll pay—”
“No, that’s fine. Go work, or study, or train, or whatever it is you gotta do, kid. I’ve got this.”
Relieved, I start walking again. I used to have a bike, but I had to sell it to pay some bills. The wind’s picking up, blowing strands of hair in my eyes. I need a haircut, I think randomly, and new shoes, and above all Miles needs a new jacket, and Teo…
“Teo,” I bark into the phone, as I realize something. “If dad isn’t home, who’s looking after Teo?”
“I don’t know.” Charlie’s voice lowers. “Wait, you mean Teo’s home? I thought he was still at school.”
“He’s sick.” Again. I try to breathe through the worry. It’s not working. “Fuck. I’m on my way. Please, Charlie, can you—?”
“I’ll check on him.”
“Right. Thanks, man.”
Meanwhile, I call home. Nobody answers. Dammit.
Fuck the meeting. No time for that crap. I turn around and jog back to the bus stop. As I wait impatiently for the next bus to arrive, I call Coach West, who wanted to talk to me. He doesn’t pick up immediately, and I don’t know if I should just disconnect and not give a damn, when he answers.
“Jimmy West speaking.”
“Coach, it’s me. Dylan. Dylan Hayes.”
“Dylan. I’ve been expecting you. Are you here?”
“No, I…” The bus is approaching, and I move toward it. “Something came up. I can’t make it today.”
“Can’t make it? Dylan, this is important.” He sounds exasperated. “I hope you realize that if we don’t do something right now, any chance at finding another sports scholarship or any other funding is over. This is about your future. Don’t you care?”
A knot forms in my throat. “I do, and I really appreciate your interest in me, Coach.” I climb into the bus and flash my card to the driver, then wander to the back, searching for a free seat. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Dylan. Do something about it.”
I slide into a seat, right next to a girl typing furiously on her touchscreen cell. “I will. Can I come by tomorrow?”
There’s a pause. I close my eyes and hold my breath. He’s given up on me, as I knew he would, eventually.
Not that I blame him. How long can you wait for someone to get their shit together? Things weren’t good when I started college, and even back then Teo wasn’t sick and Miles didn’t get beat up on his way home nine times out of ten, and Dad… Dad seemed to be holding it together.
Well, until the day he up and left, saying he’d stay with friends. Never gave an explanation as to why he abandoned us, just like Mom did so many years before.
I spent too many sleepless nights trying to figure it out. I guess staying in the same house where she used to live wasn’t helping. Maybe the sight of us reminded him too much of her.
Hell if I know. Thing is, he’s gone. He comes and goes, never staying long, and I don’t know what to make of his moods anymore.
“Come Friday morning,” Coach West is saying. “And you’d better take this seriously, Dylan. You’re a good kid, and you have a real talent in sports. Don’t let it all go to waste.”
I nod, my throat closing again, because nobody has said anything good about me in a while, and I guess I need to fucking hear it from time to time, like the sucker I am. Like it matters.
Like talking with Coach West can make a difference. I don’t have time for college, haven’t had from the start. It was all a foolish dream. I don’t have the money, the time or the energy for anything more than work and my brothers, and even that is getting to be too much lately.
I confirm the appointment nevertheless, disconnect and stare out the window at the clouds hanging over houses and buildings. The weather matches my mood. Hard to believe just a couple years ago I had so many dreams. Four years ago. Even after Mom left and Dad started sinking into depression, I thought I could do this. The sports scholarship was all but promised to me, my brothers were okay, I had my friends, and I had Tessa.
God, I had Tessa… And then I let her go. I lost her.
My hands curl into fists, and I hang my head. Dammit, it was what I had to do. I’ve been over this in my mind a million times. It was best for her. With all the shit in my life, I’d only have dragged her down, and I feared… I feared a lot of things.
And yet I’m sorry I did it, and fucking furious at myself for that. For being weak. For still wanting her, needing her.
Fuck. Damn better this way. Better than feeling the way I did about her. That heart-clenching need for her that didn’t let me breathe. The same need that drove my father to his knees when my mother left him.
Her face flashes through my mind, those bright eyes, the pretty mouth, so soft and warm.
Christ. I’m over her. Have to be. Besides, I don’t have time for feelings and shit. I’m chin-deep in responsibilities, something a rich girl like Tessa could never understand. That’s what I keep telling myself every time I see her.
Not that it helps much.
I stand up, giving my seat to a white-haired woman with a walker and stand by the door.
Hell, I hope Teo is okay. He seemed to have a fever again this morning when I left home for work, but Dad said he’d be there, and I admit I was grateful to hear it. Although I don’t trust him to be a one hundred percent responsible parent—after all, he’s rarely been home the past year—I figured he could at least keep an eye on Teo until I got back. Too many missed days from work. Getting fired isn’t something I can afford right now. Food stamps can only get you so far with two small kids and medical bills.
And he fucking left.
We roll through the northern suburbs. Familiar territory. The bus stops, and I climb off, then jog the rest of the way home. Our house is a run-down little place, a small house built in the late seventies. The paint is peeling off the walls, despite my efforts a few months back to repaint at least the façade. There are leaks in the winter, and the heating isn’t working well.
Could be why Teo is always sick. Fuck.
Guilt weighs on me as I trudge down the road, shoulders hunched, braced against the cold wind. But where could I take him and Miles? The neighborhood is ugly, the house a faithful reflection of the area with its abandoned houses with squatters and drug addicts, and the yards full of junk. And that’s why we can afford the rent.
Or rather, we could. I’m two months behind in paying, and I don’t see… Fuck, I don’t see a way out. Dad has no money. His savings have apparently run dry, and he doesn’t work. We began to sell our stuff, like my bike, the computer, the TV, the stereo, and most of the furniture. Still not enough.
I slow down as I approach and walk more slowly down the narrow path to the door. The windows are dark. Charlie has a key to the house. Where is he?
Movement from the right catches my eye as I fumble for the key in my jeans pocket. It’s Charlie, waving at me from the fence that separates our yards. I hesitate, torn by the need to check on Teo, then jog over to see what he has to say.
“Dylan.” Charlie waits until I come within hearing distance. “Teo’s here. I brought him over, so Kate and I can keep an eye on him. I hope that’s okay.”
M
y breath leaves my lungs in a rush. “Yeah, that’s great. Man, can’t tell you how grateful I am. I thought…”
Thought the worst. Lately, I always do.
“Kate made pulled ham. Come eat with us.”
“Nah, I’m good. I just ate,” I lie and hope my stomach won’t growl and betray me. “I’ll just check if dad is home, and then I’ll take the boys off your hands.”
Ignoring his protests, I head back to the house and unlock the door. It swings open with a creak. Silence greets me. It’s cold and dark. Damn. I flip the living room lights on. Room’s empty. I go through the house, opening doors.
No sign of Dad. Where did he go? As if I need to worry about him, too.
But I do worry about him. My head hurts, and my chest feels tight. The usual mixture of concern, fear and anger I carry around on most days.
He isn’t here. The realization slowly dawns on me. He left Teo at home alone and disappeared God knows where.
Now anger flares, burning out all other emotion, erasing it. I kick at a chair, send it skittering across the floor. What the hell was the bastard thinking?
What the fuck am I supposed to do? Go looking for him? Where?
No, I can’t leave. Teo. And Miles. That’s who I’m supposed to look after. Where I’m supposed to be right now.
Turning on my heel, I head back toward the main door, when a paper left on the kitchen table catches my eye. Probably something my bros left while playing. Still… A bad feeling in the pit of my stomach makes me stomp into the kitchen to take a look at it.
A list. ‘Talk to Jerry. Pay Nico. Buy white chocolate.’ And so on.
A to-do list? Or a bucket list. Looks like it, and it’s in my dad’s handwriting. Some activities are crossed out.
Blinding fury fills me. Who the fuck are Jerry and Nico? Who cares about them, or about white chocolate? Why can’t Dad spend his time caring about his own fucking kids instead? Damn him.
I knock his stupid list off the table and stride out of the house before I put my fist through the wall.
***
“Hey, bud, where the hell have you been?” Zane’s voice sounds tinny over the phone. “You haven’t showed up at the gym in fucking ages. Or even last night, at the party. What’s going on?”
Party? I try to remember what party that was. I absently stroke soft dark hair off Teo’s forehead. His fever has gone down, and the relief is huge. Now I need to talk to Miles, only I think he’s gone to bed already… At least he’s had dinner.
“Dylan. Are you listening to me, fucker?”
“Yeah. What?”
“How’s your brother?”
“Not so good, man.” I frown. He’s been sick on and off for a while now. Doc said kids get all sorts of viruses and germs from school. I didn’t remember that. I’ve always been strong and healthy. Teo’s frail frame scares me. Doc also said it could be psychological. What’s that got to do with having a fever?
What the hell am I supposed to do?
“Are you coming on Saturday?”
“Saturday?” Doesn’t ring any bells.
“The concert, fucker. Dakota is singing. Rafe’s playing. Remember now?”
“No can do, man. Sorry.”
“Why not? Talk to me, fucker. Let me help if I can.”
I snort. “What do you know about kids?”
“Is this a trick question? I practically raised my sister’s kids.” He pauses, a thoughtful silence in which I remember his sister died recently. Hell, he almost died recently.
Fuck.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Unless you’d rather spend Saturday night here, babysitting, instead of attending your girlfriend’s concert, forget it.”
“What about your dad? Can’t he babysit?”
I wince. “Dad isn’t reliable.” That’s putting it mildly. I saw him briefly this morning. Tried to get some answers out of him, find out why he left Teo alone, but it was useless.
He seemed distracted. Kept mumbling about his list. Christ. Then he was gone again, to some church meeting or other. He’s changed so many churches in the past years, I lost track. It’s his way of coping, I guess. With Mom leaving him. With depression.
“How’s college?”
“No idea. You know I dropped out. Too much work to keep up.”
“Yeah, I heard. Still working at that café on campus?”
“Nah, not anymore. Pay was too low. I work at Bodyworks, downtown. Fitness instructor. Plus any other small job I can get.”
“That why you stopped coming to train with us? Getting all the work-out you need at the gym?”
He’s teasing me, but I shake my head. I miss the sparring sessions with the guys and the bantering during and afterward. I miss practice, and my football team. Studying. Learning new things and hoping for a better future.
Shit.
“You still there?” Zane asks.
“Yeah.” As if there’s anywhere else I can go.
“Maybe I can swing by, bring a couple of beers.”
“No.” The word comes out harsh, and I wince again. “Not now, man. The kids are trying to sleep. To be honest, I’ll turn in myself, soon.”
“Jeez, man, you’re joking, right? It’s eight thirty in the fucking evening!”
“Yeah?” Anger rises inside me. “And your point is?”
In the silence that ensues, Zane says very quietly, “Sorry, fucker. Wasn’t thinking.”
Yeah. Dammit.
“Not your fault,” I grind out. Not his fault I’m ready to drop dead at eight fucking thirty in the evening. Not his fault I don’t have time for parties, and practice, and college. Nobody’s fault.
I think of Mom, and the anger twists inside me, knots my gut. Is it her fault? For making Dad love her so much and then leaving him? Leaving us?
It’s love’s fault. Dad’s fault for fucking loving her.
“You still doing security guard gigs?” Zane asks.
I perk up. “Why? Did you hear anything?”
“Saturday. I know you said you can’t find a babysitter, but if you can… There’s a gala. Autumn Glitter, or some other shit. I heard they’re looking for security guards.”
“You heard?”
“Tessa told me about it.”
I blink. Right, of course. The only one of us moving in the upper social circles would be Tessa. “Thanks. I’ll see if I can make it.”
Because money is real tight. We have food stamps, and Medicaid, but it’s not enough. I’ve worked as a security guard before. Being an athlete, I’m often selected for that kind of job, and I have some references to show.
“You do that,” Zane says, not seeming to pick up on the fact I said I can’t go to Dakota’s concert because I have no babysitter, but then saying I can go work.
Then again, Zane has been through some real tough times. If anyone can understand the difference, it’s him.
I hope the others can see it, too. I feel like I haven’t seen them in ages. Not sure I have friends anymore. I’m not there for them, and everyone eventually moves on, finds new interests, new friends…
“Are you growing deaf, fucker?” Zane is still talking, and I force myself to pay attention.
“What?” With one last look at Teo, I get up and step out of the room. I turn off the light.
“I said, call me if you need anything, okay? We all want to help. You only need to tell us how.”
I glance into Miles’s room, but he’s a lump under the covers, and the light is already off. Could it be that simple—ask the Brotherhood for help, with everything they’ve got going on in their lives? I chew on the inside of my cheek, just standing there.
“Dylan. Did you hear me?”
“Yeah.” I rub my eyes. “Thanks, Z-man. I appreciate it.”
“Talk to you later,” he says and disconnects.
I shove the cell into my pocket and step quietly into the room. Miles’s eyes are closed, but I’m not sure he’s asleep. What if he is, though? I don’t want to wake him up. I
suck at this parental thing. I’m no good at filling in for Mom and Dad both.
I squat down by the bed and put a light hand on his hair, short and blond like mine. Both my brothers look a lot like me. A lot like Dad.
His jaw is red, already bruising. Dried blood stains his chin. Charlie assured me no injuries are hidden under his clothes, just a few bruises on his arms, or I’d wake him up to check.
Dammit, I have to talk to the school again, ask them to do something about the bullying. Every single time I talk to them, they say what happens on the street is not their responsibility.
That’s true. It’s mine.
My eyes burn, and I dig my thumbs into the sockets. I’m just fucking tired. I’ll talk to Miles, make sure Teo gets better, talk to Dad, ask about the security job on Saturday, find a babysitter, talk to Coach West…
My head hurts. My whole body hurts. The thoughts blur. Damn.
I get up and stumble into my bedroom. Over my desk, I have a photo of Tessa. I taped it there long ago, and I wander there first, as usual, and touch her face in silent apology.
“Hey, Tess,” I murmur, tracing the shape of her pretty mouth, those wide blue eyes, filled with laughter and mischief, and smile at her. “Hope you’re okay.”
Fuck. How sick is this—that I talk to her photo, and feel so close to her this way, when I can’t ever approach her again in real life?
Gritting my teeth, I throw myself onto the bed, and I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.
***
The security job at the gala on Saturday is a go, and Charlie and Kate have agreed to keep an eye on my brothers. Meanwhile, Miles refuses to talk to me about the bullying, and Teo isn’t eating. This morning I loaded them both into the school bus and prayed they’ll be returned to me whole and healthy in the afternoon.
As if worrying about them isn’t enough, Dad came and left again, leaving a mysterious message stuck on the fridge—“I’ll go, and when I return I will lift you up with me”—and I haven’t heard from him since.
Now the bus is late, I’m frozen to the bone, Coach West is waiting for me—and I should be heading to work. Goddammit.
Thank God it’s Friday, I guess.
The bus finally arrives, and I find a seat, which is a miracle. The ride goes by in a blur, as I try to calculate in my mind how much money is left in my account, how much is left in the prepaid card for my cell phone, how much I need to set aside for any extra school expenses my brother may have, their clothes, the new jackets they need… I want to bang my head against a wall repeatedly, but my head hurts enough as it is already.
