I had complicated reactions to that statement. He was referring to me when he said he shouldn’t have gotten together with her. I couldn’t deny that even if I tried. But it was scary to suddenly feel like he might be looking at me without any reason to hold back. It made my hands clammy and my breath feel as if it would soon start coming out in panicky gasps. It wouldn’t be good for me to be anything more than his friend, and I would only disappoint him if he tried to make us into something more.
I had to remind him that friends were all we could be.
“I mean, I liked Erica,” Adam said, still staring at his hands. “But I realized that you were right. If she had some guy that she spent this much time with, it would be weird.”
“Or if I had a boyfriend.”
Adam’s head snapped up. “Don’t tell me you do now? I just broke up with a girl I’ve wanted since middle school because of you—your friendship.”
“No,” I said, “I turned all the boys down. They were crushed, of course, but they always are.”
Adam let out a sigh. “Okay, good.”
“So now we can be friends and it doesn’t have to be weird?”
He didn’t answer right away, and for a moment it looked like he was about to say one thing but then changed his mind. “Right. It doesn’t have to be weird.”
“Great.”
“Yep.”
Then it was my turn to pause. I scrunched up my face. “Except it’s weird, right?”
“Oh yeah,” he said.
We both sighed, and I leaned back on the steps until my butt fell asleep. It was weird, coming to a place in our friendship where we had both objected to the other having a significant other while at the same time not wanting to be that significant other ourselves. “You’re still my friend, even it’s it weird,” I told Adam. As long as he didn’t expect more, we’d get past weird.
“You’re still mine.”
Relieved, I stood up—super weird feeling when you can’t feel your butt. “Then let’s make it not weird. Let’s do something.”
He looked up. “Like what?”
“Well, we’re broke and there is a blizzard outside, so the options are endless. I spent all my brainpower solving your problem, so this one’s on you.”
“My problem? I didn’t even know it was a problem until you went off about it.”
“Oh, please.” I grinned. “That whole thing would have blown up in your face the second you accidentally kissed me.”
Adam’s eyebrows shot up and so did he. “I was going to accidentally kiss you?”
“I don’t know. Probably. Then I’d have to slap you, because you’d be making me into the ‘other woman’ and Erica would show up at my house in the middle of the night and we’d get into a fight—that I would win, by the way—and then we’d realize that you’re the one we’re mad at, so we’d egg your house, and then your mom would find out and she’d never look at you the same way again, and then...” I made an explosion sound.
Adam started slowly down the stairs, one step at a time like he was in a trance. “I’ve made a huge mistake. Maybe there’s still time if I call Erica right now and—” He grunted, then started laughing when I leaped onto his back. “I’ll tell her how you threw yourself at me, and beg for her help.” He locked his hands under my knees when I would have let go and hoisted me higher onto his back. “And there is no way you’d win in a fight with Erica. You’re like a buck ten soaking wet, and I’m betting most of that is your hair. She’d snap you in half.”
We were both grinning now. I almost said weirdness adverted but that would have been weird. “This, right here,” I said, as he started jumping down the stairs in a way that bounced me up and down with each step and added a staccato to my words. “We couldn’t—do this—if you had—a girlfriend.”
“A friend can’t give another friend a piggyback ride?”
“Not if he has a girlfriend. Not unless he’s a scummy boyfriend.”
“I don’t, and I’m not. So hold on.”
ADAM
On Saturday morning, Dad was already up when I wandered into the kitchen.
“Morning. Coffee?”
“Yeah, hey.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and held it out for him to pour.
“I was thinking we could go to the rink today and play a little ice hockey.”
“I’m hanging out with Jolene.” I turned to take my coffee back to my room, but Dad stopped me.
“Why don’t you come with Jeremy and me? You love playing.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Adam.” Just my name. I turned to him. “I thought we were turning a corner after last month. Are you ever gonna let up on me? I mean, ever?”
“What do you want from me, Dad?”
“For starters, I want you to come play hockey with your brother and me.” He slammed his own mug down on the counter, and coffee splashed over the edge. “I never see you. I get you for a few days a month, and you spend them in your room or with the girl next door.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I’m trying here. I need you to try, too.”
“Yeah, you tried real hard.” I held my arms out and gestured around the room. “Look how hard you’re trying.”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“No, you’re not. Your best is all of us home together. Mom not alone. Jeremy and me not living out of suitcases. This is pathetic. You’re not trying, so why should I?”
“Adam.” He let his head drop forward. “You don’t—”
“No, forget it. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you say is going to matter.”
“And that’s you trying?”
“No. That’s me not giving a—”
Dad’s head snapped up when I started that particular phrase, and the way his eyes widened and then narrowed took some of my bluster.
I finished with “Crap.”
But he knew what I’d been going to say, what one look from him had quelled. I wasn’t nearly as indifferent to him as I claimed.
He took his victory—and his half-spilled mug of coffee—and went into his room. I had no time to reflect on any of that before I saw Jeremy sit up on the couch.