“Sorry about my dad,” she tossed over her shoulder as she led the way to her kitchen and the rustic oak table we usually worked on. “He thinks every guy I bring over is waiting to maul me the second he turns his back. He’ll lighten up once he gets to know you.”
I was betting he wouldn’t, but I kept that thought to myself as Erica grabbed us a couple Cherry Cokes from the fridge while I set my bag on the table. Wanting to agree with everything she said, I’d made the mistake of claiming it was my favorite flavor, too, when she’d offered me one the first time I came over, and now I had to choke down a can each time. I smiled when she handed it to me.
“What about your dad?”
I coughed, and the carbonation burned in my nose. “Uh, no. He’s not much of a tough guy.”
“Hmm,” she said. “But you don’t have any sisters, just brothers?”
“Brother,” I corrected, the burn spreading to my eyes.
Her can halted at her mouth. Slowly she lowered it to the table. “Right. It’s been a little while and I forgot for a second. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. Like you said, it was a while ago.”
“I didn’t know him know him, but I do have this one memory of Greg helping my friend Missy when her cat fell through the ice in the middle of the pond by the elementary school a few winters ago. He jumped right in, didn’t even take his shoes off or anything. She still has the cat.” She let her gaze go unfocused from the memory before blinking and taking another drink, oblivious to the fact that my own can was denting in my hand. “He was really brave.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice low and gruff. She kept talking about how amazing Greg had been that day but I didn’t even hear the words. I knew the cat story. Actually, there was probably more than one. Greg had done stuff like that all the time without ever thinking about his own safety. He could have died saving Missy’s cat, found himself trapped under the ice, too, or had the edges break under his fingertips when he tried to climb back out, one-handed because the other was wrapped around a panicked cat. He could have frozen solid while Erica and her friend watched from the bank.
“Oh,” Erica said, sliding closer to me and brushing her fingers over my face. I tried to shrug her off, but she only moved closer. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m here.”
She was there and she smelled like cherries, and the skin of her fingers was so soft as she brushed my cheek. The kitchen was empty, and the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in real life was touching me. I couldn’t think clearly. My chest hurt like I was somehow trapped underneath thick layers of ice, feeling my thrashing limbs grow sluggish and heavy as I fought to free myself from a memory that wasn’t even mine.
Greg hadn’t died in a pond or trapped beneath ice. He’d come home that day half-frozen but exhilarated, laughing as he told Mom about his latest rescue over a steaming cup of hot cocoa.
“Weren’t you scared?” I’d asked him.
“Sure,” he’d said, sucking a marshmallow into his mouth. “But I was more scared of watching a little girl witness her cat drown and seeing the panic in that animal’s eyes and knowing I could have helped but didn’t.” He’d grinned at me. “Plus, I’ve got thick skin. A little ice wouldn’t have hurt me.” But his teeth were still chattering, and there’d been a blue tinge lingering on his lips despite the hot cocoa.
Later that night I’d heard Dad tell him he had to be more careful. Dad said he knew better than to tell Greg to let the next animal go, but to think of all of us, his mom, his little brothers, and how we would feel if he didn’t come home. Greg had given Dad his promise.
But we’d still buried him a year later.
And there I was in Erica Porter’s kitchen, surrounded by the cookie jars that her mom collected, trying not to let tears track down my face. Instead I tried to focus on her, on Erica and the way her gaze kept lowering to my mouth.
Part of me knew what might happen, in that moment when it was just Erica and me and she was much too close and moving closer. The surprising thing was that, even though I’d thought about it for years, once it was happening, something felt off. It was more than the raw memory of my brother still wrapped around me, messing with my head. I’d expected to be more excited. Well, I was, but mostly I couldn’t help thinking that Erica’s hair wasn’t long enough, and that I wished her teeth weren’t so perfectly spaced. But it was one of those foggy thoughts that pass through the mind without any substance or lasting power. It had no sooner formed than it dissipated, and the girl of my dreams was an inch away from me. Only an idiot would have let that moment pass by.
I wasn’t an idiot.
FOURTH WEEKEND
November 6–8
Jolene
Adam had become a parasite in my life, except not the gross tapeworm kind that coils in your intestines and steals all the nutrients from your body. He was like the benevolent kind that massaged your muscles and brain cells simultaneously, making you smarter and stronger at the same time. I didn’t think that kind of parasite existed, but, how awesome would it be if they did? I would call them Adamites.
Adam took exception to my parasitic metaphor.
“I’m the parasite? Me? You’re the one who climbed into my room!”
“After you climbed onto my balcony.”
“Still, you are clearly the parasite in this relationship. Also, I’m pretty sure the Adamites were an early cult of some kind.”
“Why do you have to be such a know-it-all all the time? Fine, we’ll change the name. How about something with worm? A lot of parasites have worm in the name.”
“How about we stop calling me a parasite entirely?”
“Even a muscle-growing, brain-building kind?”
“Yes. And how do you figure anyway?”
“Well. I used to spend my weekends here watching movies in my room. Ever since you moved in, we go places, we talk about stuff. I’m moving and thinking. Those are the exact parasitic perks I attributed to you.”
“Huh.”
“What does huh mean in this context?”
“I’m mildly less insulted.”
“Oh, good. I did mildly mean to insult you as well as compliment you, so...where are we going anyway?”
“What do you mean where are we going? I was following you.”
It was Saturday afternoon and Adam and I were apparently wandering aimlessly around the neighborhood. It was one of those perfect snowy days. Everything was blanketed in white, and the snow had that iced edge to it that made it glitter in the bright sunlight and crunch underfoot. There was no wind, no clouds. It was the kind of cold that made everything, including the air, feel clean.