Sweet Dandelion

by Micalea Smeltzer

  My jaw drops. “You’re joking.”

  “Wish I was.” He rubs his jaw. “What’s that smell? Is something on fire?” He starts looking around for the source of the smell.

  “I burned popcorn earlier.”

  He cracks a grin. “Gotta take it out before the microwave finishes, D.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. What’s up with your boss? I thought they were cool when you had to take off to come be with me in the hospital?”

  “I thought so too.” His sigh ripples out of him and he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Apparently they’re giving me hell for it now.”

  Pushing the blankets off of me, I plead with him again. “Sage, please quit. You can find something better than this. You’re smart, a valuable asset. Any company would be lucky to have you. You don’t have to put up with this shit.”

  “It’s a job,” he retorts. “It is what it is.”

  “Yeah, a job you spend the majority of your time at. One that makes you miserable. How is that fair?”

  “I’m not going to keep having this argument with you,” he warns, pointing at me. “I’m fine.”

  “Whatever.” I blow out a breath, not in the mood to get a headache arguing with him. Besides, I missed him and I’m glad he’s home. “I haven’t eaten. Should I order something?”

  He rubs his lips. “Go for it. I haven’t eaten either.”

  I watch him walk down the hall.

  Is he not sick of this monotony? He goes to work, hates it, comes home, showers, orders food, wash, rinse, and fucking repeat.

  I love my brother and he deserves more than this.

  Placing an order, I hear the shower turn on.

  It’ll be thirty minutes before the food is delivered, so I lay back down on the couch. Picking up the remote, I flip through the channels, settling on an old Cartoon Network episode of Totally Spies.

  Cupping my hands under my head I watch the show until the food arrives. Sage is still in the shower, because I swear he’s trying to burn his skin off. Or at least rid himself of every trace of work. I wish he’d open up to me, and talk about why he really won’t quit. I know it has to be something more, not anything bad, but it’s like he’s scared to go somewhere else.

  Grabbing the food from the delivery guy, who recognizes me at this point, I pull all the to-go boxes from the restaurant down the street, popping open the lid on the nachos I ordered. For some reason I’ve been craving them. I scoop out a chip, popping it in my mouth.

  “Mmm,” I moan, it’s as good as I hoped it’d be. “So yummy,” I speak to myself, doing a little shimmy for good measure.

  I fix myself a plate of nachos and carry the to-go box with a cheeseburger over to the couch. I’m starving and not waiting for Sage.

  I’ve only eaten a quarter of my burger when he finally joins me. He grabs his food and sits beside me, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He doesn’t lower his legs this time like he sometimes does, as if he can hear Mom scolding him.

  He takes a bite of the burger I ordered him, some barbeque sauce smearing his lip, and wipes it away. After he’s swallowed, he says to me in a soft, guilty tone, “I’m really sorry I had to go back to work today.”

  I give a small shrug. I didn’t want to be alone, but I wasn’t going to beg him to stay. Lachlan stopping by actually helped some.

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not.” He angles his body toward me. “Every time I turn around I’m doing the wrong thing. It’s not like you needed to come home for the hell of it. What happened today was fucking awful, D, and I know you probably won’t stop thinking about it and I … left you.”

  “Please, don’t feel guilty.” Sage already carries too much worry and guilt.

  He lowers his feet to the ground and leans forward, placing the Styrofoam container on the table. “I can’t help but feel it. As soon as I left here I felt like the biggest piece of shit ever, but I knew if I didn’t go I’d probably be fired.”

  “Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but quit.”

  He chuckles, but there’s not a trace of humor in it. “Maybe I will.” My brows shoot up in surprise since he was arguing only a bit ago about it being a job and what he had to deal with. “I was thinking during my shower,” he admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think I’ve held on so tightly to this job because I wanted something to stay the same when everything else is different, but it’s fucking stupid to keep doing this to myself.”

  “It is.” I chew on another nacho.

  He works his lips back and forth. “I think I’m going to put in my notice and look for something else. I deserve better than this and so do you. You need a brother who’s here for you and I haven’t been.”

  “Sage,” I say sadly, “you’ve done the best you can.”

  He smiles at me sadly, but there’s a twinkle in his eye—an excitement. “But I can do better.”

  When he cracks a grin, my heart feels the teeny tiniest bit better.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The next day Sage enters the apartment, cursing under his breath. The door slams closed behind him and I look up from the couch where I was curled up with the last book Lachlan leant me.

  “What’s wrong?” I shove everything off of me, hurrying to his side, thinking maybe he’s hurt or something.

  He left for work more than an hour ago and surely if he was hurt he’d go to the hospital, not come home. He could be sick though.

  He throws his hands up. “I put in my notice and was fired. Stupid, fucking, pompous, asshole!” He rages, shoving mail from the day before off the kitchen counter. Gripping the counter he pants out shallow breaths. “Growing up is a fucking trap. Don’t do it, Weed.”

  “Everything will be okay.”

  He pinches his lips. “It will be,” he says after a moment, “but right now I’m fucking pissed.” Placing his hands on his hips, he cocks his head to the side. “I’m gonna change and we’re going to go somewhere.”

  I look out the window at the snow flurries. “But it’s cold.”

  Sage rolls his eyes. “You act like you’ve never lived through winter.” He starts down the hall, calling behind him, “Get changed.”

  I look down at my sweatpants and sweatshirt, frowning. I don’t want to get dressed in ‘real’ clothes. I want to be comfy and hangout here. But I know Sage isn’t going to rest until he gets me out of the house.

  Closing myself in my room, I change into jeans, a heavy sweater, and winter boots. Sage is already by the front door, shoving his arms into his coat. I grab mine, doing the same.

  “Where are we going?” I question him as we step into the hall.

  “No idea.” He grins—grins completely giddy. “That’s the beauty of it.”

  “Isn’t it amazing?” I gush, walking out of the art museum into the chilly air.

  “It’s … something.” Sage’s response is expected.

  I bump his arm with my elbow. “Come on, it’s incredible. I can’t believe you’ve never been.”

  He cracks a small smile. “I’m not exactly an art connoisseur. How’d you even know about this place?”

  “Ansel—”

  He holds up a hand. “Say no more.”

  I laugh, climbing into his car. “You have nothing to be worried about when it comes to Ansel. He’s my friend, that’s it.”

  He slides behind the wheel, cranking the engine. “You can tell me that until you’re blue in the face all you want, but he’s still a guy, and he still has a penis.”

  I roll my eyes. “Brothers.”

  “Sisters.”

  We exchange twin smiles. As he pulls away, I say, “Have you thought any about seeing a counselor yourself?” I have a list from Lachlan sitting on my phone to suggest to Sage. I’ve also given up on trying to force myself to think of him only as Mr. Taylor. He’s Lachlan to me and nothing can change that. Not even if it would be the smarter thing.

  “Not much,” he admits with a wince. “Guess I have the time now, be
ing jobless and all. It’d probably be a good idea, huh?” He glances at me for assurance.

  “I didn’t want to talk to any of mine, but Mr. Taylor has really helped.”

  Despite my crush on him, and what’s developed into more, I do think being forced to see him five days a week has helped me chisel away at the walls I put up to protect myself, my thoughts, and my fears. I’ve gotten to know him and that makes sharing things easier.

  “I think I will,” he says softly, like if he doesn’t speak loudly then it’s not as scary.

  “I … uh … have a list of counselors Mr. Taylor suggested—for after I graduate,” I quickly lie when his eyebrows rise, figuring it’ll be an easier pill to swallow if he believes the list is for me.

  “Oh, cool. Give it to me later.”

  “I will.”

  Looking out the window, I stare at the buildings we pass by. The brick and stone colors blend together, occasionally broken up with graffiti.

  “Lost in thought?” he asks after a few minutes.

  I shake my head. “Blissfully empty for the moment.”

  When his eyes move from the traffic to me, I know he figures I’m lying, especially with what happened yesterday.

  Sure enough he says, “You sure about that?”

  I’m quiet. “Yes,” I finally say. It’s not a lie either, I’d let myself zone out and nothing had been on my mind, but now there is.

  “Should we stop for coffee before we go home?”

  “Yeah.” I reach in front of me, adjusting the vent. “That’d be good.”

  After swinging by Watchtower we finally return to the condo.

  “I’m going to watch a movie,” he announces. “Do you want to join?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I have homework.”

  Even though school has been canceled leading into break, I still had things that were due and I’m sure they’ll be expected the day we return.

  “I was going to watch Transformers,” he sing-songs, naming one of his childhood favorites he got me hooked on one summer when he was tired of watching the Barbie movies I kept requesting.

  “Really, I have things to finish.”

  “Okay.” He grabs the remote, flopping onto the couch.

  I take my Starbucks cinnamon dolce latte with me back to my room. Digging out my books and assignment pad, I read through what I have left to do. With a sigh, I settle onto my bed and get to work, periodically taking a sip of coffee. The condo is small enough that I hear the movie playing in the background, but I don’t feel like putting music on to drown it out.

  A couple of hours later, all of my homework is complete and Sage pokes his head in the doorway. “My friends asked me out for a beer. Is it cool with you if I go?”

  “I don’t care. You hardly need my permission.”

  “I wanted to ask. It didn’t feel right to leave without saying something. You’ll be okay?”

  “I’m fine, Herb.”

  He chuckles. “Okay, okay. I’m going to head out.”

  I pack my school stuff away, stuffing my backpack in the bottom of my closet since I won’t need it for two weeks.

  “Bye!” Sage calls out a moment before the door closes.

  Since he’s gone, I dig through the hall closet, looking for the artificial tree he used to have—I know because I’ve seen pictures of it when he’d send them to Mom.

  I locate it lodged in the corner, wrestling it out into the living room. I’m glad it was there, because the only other place I could think to look would be his bedroom closet and I’m not going in there. His smelly underwear might be lying around. No thanks.

  A part of me worries I should wait for Sage, that this should be something we do together. Guilt nags at me, thinking of the Christmases growing up when the three of us would decorate together while drinking hot chocolate with Christmas songs playing in the background.

  My phone vibrates, breaking into my thoughts.

  Sasha: They r holding a candlelight ceremony for the students & faculty who were injured yesterday. I’m going. Do u want 2?

  I freeze, reading her text over and over. There’s nothing wrong with what she says, only it’s yet another reminder of everything I’m trying to move past. Ansel would know better than to ask me if I’d want to go, but not Sasha, because I haven’t shared that defining part of myself with her.

  Me: No.

  Sasha: K.

  A simple letter ‘k’ as her only response serves to tick me off for some reason. I can’t even pinpoint what it is about it that irks me so much. I guess it’s feeling like everything bad that happened yesterday, that’s happened at other schools, places of worship, movie theaters, on and on the list goes, is somehow simplified into one insignificant letter.

  I toss my phone on the couch, getting it away from me before I get mad enough to chuck it through a wall.

  Sage or no Sage, I’m tackling this tree tonight.

  Without hot chocolate or Christmas music to aid me, I finished the tree, decking it out with colored lights, tinsel, and the hand-me-down ornaments our mom gave him when he first moved into his own place.

  A movie plays on the TV now, but I’m barely paying attention.

  When the door finally opens it’s past eleven at night. It’s not too late in the grand scheme of things, but for Sage it might as well be five in the morning.

  “Hey,” I call out as he locks up.

  He enters the living room, smiling at the tree. “You put the tree up.” He points at it. His eyes fall to the handful of simply wrapped gifts under it of things I’ve ordered for him.

  “Yeah, it needed to be more Christmassy.”

  He tosses his keys on the counter with a clatter. “I should’ve put it up at the beginning of the month.”

  “Well, you didn’t.” I state simply. “So I did.”

  “Whatcha watching?” he asks, lightly tapping my feet so I’ll lower them from the coffee table and let him by. It’s not like he could go in front of the coffee table or anything.

  “Some cheesy TV Christmas movie,” I admit. “I haven’t been paying much attention, but I bet you anything there’s probably a cold-hearted city guy dating a city girl. Then the city girl gets stranded in a remote country town and falls in love with some guy who makes ranch dressing for a living or sells rocking horses. Oh there’s probably a dog too. And the city guy loses the girl in the end.”

  He laughs outright, shaking his head at me. “Oh, Dani. Ranch dressing, huh?”

  “I mean, it’s likely. Oh, and technically you’d be the cold-hearted city boy, working with computers and all.”

  He arches a brow. “Do I get bonus points for quitting? Well, getting fired,” he amends.

  I think for a moment. “Sure, I guess. But let’s face it, you’re a nerd and will get another job with computers. Just don’t forget how to talk to girls. I would like some nieces or nephews someday.”

  I swear he chokes on his own saliva. “Take that back. I don’t even want to think about kids right now. I’m too young.”

  “You’ll be twenty-six soon,” I remind him.

  He gives me a horrified expression like he’s caught me kicking a puppy or something. “Yeah, and that’s too fucking young to be thinking about kids, Dandelion.” He shudders—actually shudders, where his whole body shakes and he makes some kind of weird noise with his lips.

  This is too fun for me now. I grin, feeling lighter than I have since the news yesterday. “I could babysit.”

  He jumps to a standing position. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he chants walking away with his hands held loosely over his ears. “I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense.” I open my mouth and he actually screams, then shoves his fingers in his ears. “La, la, la. I can’t hear you.”

  He disappears down the hall to his room and I actually pay attention to the movie this time. Turns out the guy doesn’t make ranch dressing for a living, but he is a dairy farmer. Close enough.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Bal
ancing the sketchpad on my knees, I move my pencil back and forth, letting the simple lines I’ve been drawing transform into a monarch butterfly.

  I know my sketches are nothing compared to the beautiful art Ansel makes, but there’s a peace I find in letting my mind wander but my hand guide me. It takes me to some surprising places.

  When I think the drawing is as close as it’s going to get to perfect, I close the pad, setting it aside on my unmade bed. With school out and Sage home I’ve spent the majority of my time burrowing beneath the bed covers, getting lost in new stories or creating art.

  Tiptoeing out of my room, I peek into the living room and find Sage watching sports.

  “Hey,” he speaks when he spots me. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

  I look at the pile of presents beneath the tree, fuller than the night I put it up, containing things Sage got for me and others our extended family has sent. There’s even one wrapped in solid black wrapping paper with a silver bow from Ansel that he gave me when he stopped by for dinner one evening. Sage didn’t even grumble … much.

  “No, I’m okay here.”

  “Seriously, I could maybe get tickets to a play or something.” He wrinkles his nose.

  Laughing, I wrap my arms around myself. “Even if you could get something on Christmas Eve Eve you don’t even like that sort of thing.”

  “We could go to a movie?” he suggests, brightening.

  I think of the dark, enclosed space. “No, I’m good, seriously. Just gonna grab a soda.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  From the fridge I grab a grape Fanta I blame Ansel for getting me addicted to. I had one at Thanksgiving, but the obsession didn’t really kick in until he was over the other night and brought an entire case, leaving the box when he left. Now, they’re mine and I can’t get enough of it.

  Bumping my hip against the refrigerator door, it closes. Sage lets out a chuckle when I round the corner, shaking his head. “D, you’re going to have to lay off the soda or I’m going to have to run down to the convenience store and get some more.”