My Best Friend's Brother

by Chrissy Fanslau

  “Well, you did.”

  I put my hands on my hips, trying to think of a way to save whatever dignity I had left. “You broke my heart, Luke.”

  “And whose fault is that?” he demanded.

  “I was humiliated, Luke. What does your mom think of me!”

  His look softened. “The same thing she always thought of you—you’re her second daughter. My mom loves you. Addie.”

  I looked at him through a film of tears. I hadn’t been called Addie since the ninth grade. Since the girl down the road got that butt-ugly buck tooth hairless chihuahua and gave it my pet name.

  Yeah, that suddenly made Adonia an awesome name.

  “I didn’t talk to her often, but every time I called she talked about you,” he said somberly. “She said your name is Addie. That you’re always so sweet and well-mannered. That your mom is always gone. Even when my sister was grounded, she let her sleep at your place so you’re less lonely; so her attempts at discipline never worked. She baked you cookies, styled your hair…put gifts for you under our tree.”

  My knees grew weak. Memories flooded my mind and tears drenched my eyes.

  “She said maybe someday I’d meet a girl like Addie.” His eyes glossed over. “And when I did, I had no clue it was you.”

  I sobbed, because that’s all I could do.

  He sighed. And after a thoughtful minute—like something serious didn’t just happen—he said, “I should pack.”

  He’s still leaving?

  I’d reached my breaking point. “You’re nothing but heartbreak, Luke!” I blared. “Leave me alone!”

  He crossed his arms. “I can’t leave you alone. You’re in my room.”

  At that, I shoved him aside and stormed out. Within seconds I was out the front door, down the driveway and on the road. He actually called after me, even though leaving was his idea.

  Outside it was dark and cold. I hugged myself for warmth. My coat and tee shirt weren’t quite cutting it.

  Tears froze to my cheeks. It was below zero, and I walked for about half a mile before I felt like I could walk no more.

  I could not believe what my life had come to. I lost a super-hot sweetheart of a boyfriend, I probably put my best friend in the worst position ever, I screwed up Mom’s Jeep, I ruined Dad’s career, I flunked math, and I’m probably going to flunk everything else, too. I’m probably not going to graduate, go to college, or do anything my parents want for me. I’ll make an awful living; I’ll earn my pathetic summer-job paychecks for the rest of my life! I’ll be a complete failure.

  But I’m a failure to Mom anyway. Mom won’t care.

  Dad will care. Dad’s the only one who cares.

  My fingers were numb, the tip of my nose nearly frozen. Two cars pulled over to ask if I needed a ride. I refused stubbornly. I was furious.

  When I finally walked through the front door, my entire body was pale. I lit a fire in the wood stove and sat on the carpet, legs folded, watching the flames grow. My anger grew with them as my body thawed. Somehow, the cold had numbed the pain—now the pain was back. I couldn’t stop shivering.

  Footsteps descended the stairs. They stopped at the bottom, in the foyer. “Are you okay?”

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked numbly.

  “He’s meeting with his agent.”

  Great. I’d just walked three miles, and he wasn’t even home to see me meet curfew! I stared blankly into the fire and pulled the blanket off the couch over my shoulders. My eyes were soaked.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, but when Sullivan finally sat beside me, he handed me a cup of hot chocolate, topped with a mountain of marshmallows. “Thanks,” I breathed.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. Then he sipped out of his cup and tucked his hair behind his ears. “I’m your brother,” he said, “so if anyone were to upset you, you’d let me know so I can beat them up, right?”

  I began to sob. Before I can answer, though, the phone rang. Sullivan answered it. “It’s Mom.”

  While I was not in the mood to talk, I was happy she called. I took the phone.

  “Hi,” she said like I was an acquaintance.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “What happened with the Jeep?”

  My shivers came back. “I ran off the road because it was icy.”

  “Well, I’ve decided you are not to drive the new one. Did your father get the message? I told him one week, but I’ve decided you need to learn some responsibility first!”

  The message? She never even talked to him, she left him a message? “It was an accident, Mom.”

  “Yes, and it’s not going to happen again,” she assured me.

  “Why didn’t you call to see if I was okay?” I blurted, fearful of the answer. Despite my anger, my tone was composed, like I didn’t want to piss her off, no matter how much she upset me.

  “Your father left a message and said you were fine. Why would I call and ask you again? I was on a plane at the time, need I remind you! So what do you expect! I am working here, Adonia!”

  I’d cried my eyes dry, so I let out a dry sob and screamed, “To ask me how I’m feeling! To at least pretend you care!”

  Her voice deepened. “What? How can you talk to me like this?”

  I kept digging my own grave. “On top of that, you’re never home! You promised to be home last Christmas and you weren’t! You never see us!”

  “I can’t be home, Adonia, I’m working on something here and I have to finish this research! I can’t just leave whenever I please, I’m a responsible adult!”

  “Are you?” I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. “You’re not responsible enough to care about me! And you’re not coming home this year either, are you? Are you!”

  She was silent for so long I thought she’d hung up. “Not this year, but probably by New Year’s Day I’ll be home, if I work hard and finish this.”

  “Don’t you ever want to see me and Sullivan?!” I barked. “Why can’t you get another job? Why didn’t you take that university job you were offered?!”

  “Because this job puts food on the table, Adonia! Your father’s a writer, he doesn’t earn a steady paycheck. Now put your father on!”

  “Daddy’s not home!”

  “Well, where the hell is he!”

  “He’s out with his agent!”

  “Your father doesn’t work with an agent anymore, Adonia, so where is he?”

  “With his agent!” I screamed so loud I thought my voice was gone. Then I did something I’d never done before: I hung up.

  Sullivan was stunned on the couch.

  I didn’t care. She deserved hearing what she did. It was a long time coming.

  I sat next to him, folded my legs, and hugged them, covering myself with the blanket again. We just listened to the fire crackle for a while. Sullivan asked what happened, but I didn’t answer him. When my cell phone vibrated, I even ignored the call. I didn’t care to talk to anyone. Not until 10:30, when Dad got home.

  He stood in the doorway like a deer in the headlights—like he’d missed his curfew. “What are you kids doing up?” he asked, setting down his briefcase, removing his shoes. “What’s going on?”

  “Where did you go?” I demanded.

  He hung up his coat, briefly eyeing me. “I met with my agent.”

  “Mom says you don’t have an agent.”

  His eyebrows pinched. “Oh, did Mom call?”

  I stared him down. “You don’t have an agent, do you, Daddy?”

  He sighed and sat on the love seat across from us. After a thoughtful minute he said, “No, sweetie, I don’t.”

  “So where were you?” asked Sullivan.

  Dad tugged at his tie, loosening it. I eyed his briefcase. “I’m going to take a shower. Can you kids be in bed by eleven?” He slapped his knee and got up like we’d agreed.

  Sullivan ran up the stairs to his room and slammed the door behind him.

  Without uttering another word, Dad went up himself, shut the door to the m
aster bedroom and turned on the shower.

  My eyes were still glued to the briefcase. I approached it cautiously. My knees touched the cold marble floor. I glanced at the top of the stairs and flipped the lock open. My blood zipped through me as I opened it.

  Inside was a Writer’s Digest, his laptop below it, and two folders beneath that. I opened the first. It was his manuscript. I set it down on the tiles, next to the laptop and magazine. I reached for the black folder and opened it. Inside was a bundle of papers. The header on the front page was that of a law firm. My eyes skimmed the rest of the page, and I gasped at the realization of what they were: Divorce papers.

  XVII

  So how do you ask, “Why are there divorce papers in your briefcase?” to someone who doesn’t know you know that there are divorce papers in his briefcase?

  That’s what I pondered until one in the morning. I’d put it all away, of course, and locked myself in my room. It was my fault. I wrecked the Jeep. Now my parents are splitting up, and Luke is leaving in forty-eight hours.

  Lilly called hourly and left that many messages on my voice mail. Messages I stopped listening to after a while.

  I lay in bed with an open notebook, trying to do my creative writing assignment. Divorce and breakups clouded my mind. Nobody wants to read about that.

  I cried in self-pity. I cried for Dad; for what I’d said to Mom; for Luke; for Sullivan when he finds out what Dad was really out doing; and for the cap and gown on the hanger in my closet that may never see the light of day.

  My life is falling apart.

  ~ ~ ~

  At lunch I sat at Lilly’s table. She stared, probably at the bags under my eyes. I was actually glad Luke wasn’t in the lunchroom to see me looking as bad as I did.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, just loud enough for me to hear her.

  I shook my head no and pushed my tray to the center of the table. “My parents are getting divorced.”

  “That’s terrible.” After a long moment she asked, “What happened?”

  “Car crash started it. And I yelled at my mom last night. And at Luke. Did he call your dad for a ticket?”

  She shrugged.

  “He kissed me before he said it wouldn’t work out, because he’s your brother” I said, near tears. “Then I accused him of trying to score, when he put no pressure on me. I’m such a jerk.” I sighed. “At least I passed my home economics midterm.”

  She patted my hand and smiled. “It will get better. I promise. Call Lukasz. He’s miserable.”

  The bell rang, and we walked to class together. Gino caught up.

  “Lookin’ good!” he howled after her. She wore tight polyester pants and a glittery purple top.

  “Hi, Gino!” she teased, nudging him with her hip in the most inviting way.

  Gino’s pretty cute—spiky black hair, sapphire eyes, and perfect teeth. He wore a white tee shirt under his leather jacket and baggy jeans with a chain trailing from his belt into his pocket, probably attached to his wallet.

  I felt a sting of guilt for checking him out. I turned to check for Luke at my locker, but he was anywhere but there.

  Gino said he was with Luke at Denny’s during lunch. So at least I know he wasn’t dining with some girl.

  Mr. Michaels gave us thirty-five problems to spend the period on. “Practice makes perfect!” he roared, passing out the math sheets.

  Lilly and I hovered over the work. I could barely concentrate, but that’s no surprise. Halfway through, the teacher came by my desk and tapped my arm.

  “I’ll let you retake,” he whispered, “on Monday after school. Just this one time.” He raised his eyebrows and stood there as if he didn’t know if I’d be okay with that.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, and got back to work, a little more awake. I was over-the-moon!

  But then I realized how much studying I had to do by Monday. And this wasn’t the best time to do it.

  ~ ~ ~

  I locked myself in my bedroom and stared into my math notebook for three hours. I tried some of the problems in the textbook, but I wasn’t having much luck. So I lingered there, depressed for a while, wishing Luke would call or at least not leave forever. He was leaving on Friday—on Teachers’ Professional Development Day. What do they do on those days anyway? Coffee and donuts?

  A knock on the door brought me back to reality. I opened it.

  “Ready for dinner?” Dad asked, wearing all black and this ridiculous white apron. By the stains on it I hoped it wasn’t lasagna again.

  I shrugged and sat on the edge of my bed, gripping the carpet with my toes and fiddling with Luke’s necklace.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Dad, I saw the papers in your briefcase,” I spilled, trying to think up an explanation for going through his stuff to begin with.

  He hesitated. Then he placed himself next to me on the bed. “Did you tell Sullivan?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Okay. Let’s talk about this.” He looked like he was about to teach me about sex, with that semi-contorted, scared look on his face. And yes, he gave me that speech back in the day, because—surprise!—Mom wasn’t around to do it. “Yes, I filed for divorce from your mother.”

  “It’s because I crashed the Jeep, right?”

  “No!” He scratched the top of his head. “It’s entirely me and Mom, not you or Sullivan. Understand?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, Mom’s always working. She’s just… lost all touch with this family.” He looked down and took off the apron, holding it in his right hand. “Part of the reason is the car crash, but not because of you.” He sighed. “I lied about talking to her. She called up the machine after I left her the news on her voice mail and asked how…” His voice trailed off, like he didn’t want to finish what he was saying. After a moment, he added, “She asked how bad the car was. That made me very mad. And before—when she was home—she was running the whole show with no regard for what I’m trying to do to raise you kids.” He looked at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you and Sullivan. I sincerely hope you don’t hate me for this. This really feels like the sole option at this point, unless something drastic happens.”

  My eyes were teary. I’d cried so much in the past day that they actually hurt. “I don’t hate you, Dad.” I hated her, for putting a car before me! Even though I wrecked her Jeep, I was hoping she’d still love me. “I think Mom hates me.”

  Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Nobody hates you. Mom loves you. She’s your mom! She’s tired and she works a lot. It’s just that she’s changed since I married her, she’s lost track of what’s important.” He rubbed my shoulder. “No hard feelings?”

  I shook my head no.

  “If you need to talk about it or have questions, just ask.” He got up and walked to the door. “Until then we have to eat our spaghetti! I’ll get your brother.”

  I thought about what he’d said. I agree with him. I’m not mad at him. And I’m glad I told Mom what I did.

  I’m glad Dad works at home. Dad’s always there for us, no matter how pathetic his curfews are.

  XVIII

  My alarm went off shortly after seven. I went to the bathroom, took a shower, put on my makeup and blotted my lips. Then I heard frantic screaming. It sounded like Mom!

  I rushed to the door and opened it slightly, sticking my head out, as I wasn’t fully dressed. Sullivan peeked out, his door barely open as well.

  “Why are you doing this to me!” Mom screamed. “It’s just work!”

  “Mary, calm down, the kids are asleep.” Dad was trying to be quiet, but he was doing a really crappy job at it.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down, I’ve been up for thirty-six hours getting here! I called the kids and they said you were out with your agent, and now this?! How could you do this? And how dare you call me an uncaring parent!”

  “Mary—”

  A door slammed. Then I heard her murmuring. I couldn’t figure out w
hat was going on. I heard Dad scream, “Absolutely not!” Then more talk I couldn’t make out.

  I checked my watch. I’d be late for school if I didn’t go down soon, but I couldn’t just walk in on a fight. And I had a feeling Mom didn’t want to see me.

  Sullivan and I exchanged looks. He pulled the door open and stuck his head out, confused.

  “No, we can’t give it another shot, Mary, not with you gone like this!”

  “Why don’t you get a real job, Paul? That’s why I’m out so much, because I have one!”

  “I have a real job! And who would watch these kids if I left home to work?” Then his voice lowered again, and I couldn’t make anything else out until she screamed,

  “It is very important to me!” Then the front door slammed. It shook the house.

  Everything fell silent.

  I heard hard, heavy footsteps climbing the stairs, and shut my door immediately. I lay on my bed and shook, hoping he didn’t see my door close and figure out I was snooping. But it sounded like Sullivan was discovered.

  I went to my closet and pulled out a pair of hip hugger jeans and a brown turtleneck sweater. After I dressed, I opened my door. Dad and Sullivan were in the hallway, but I slipped out unnoticed. I hurried down the stairs and out the door. The Jeep was gone, of course, as was my mother, probably forever. But I didn’t care, because she’s not around enough for me to.

  ~ ~ ~

  I never did see Mr. Bias yesterday. So today he called up math class looking for me.

  “I don’t feel like going,” I told Mr. Michaels, and put my head back on my desk. I didn’t feel like talking about college, careers or my sex life.

  I spent the day wondering where Mom went, and if she was ever coming back. It angered me. I know that I care, and it hurts.

  I raised my hand and asked to go to the bathroom.

  Mr. Michaels looked at his watch. “You’re out of here in five minutes anyway,” he said, licking his fingers and sorting through papers. “Why don’t you just hold it?”

  Tears are hard to hold.

  “You’ll be okay,” Lilly breathed, setting her hand on my shoulder. I told her everything at lunch, and she told me to call Luke.