Instead I ask, “Why?”
His eyes dart back to me. His fingers dance over his thighs, playing twin imaginary keyboards. “I don’t know,” he says.
It’s too much, not knowing.
He licks his lips when I start to cry. He throws himself back against the seat once and then again. He shoves his hands beneath him. The drumming comes out in his feet. “I—” He looks into his lap. He shakes his hair so it falls next to his face, so he doesn’t have to see me. “You know I don’t mind staying up all night, working on my apps or hanging with other gamers online. It’s like when I was first with Samantha, like I’m on top of the world. Nothing can touch me. Nothing matters, not even getting kicked out of college. Or being twenty and living with my parents. But I know I’m weird when I’m myself. I know it’s hard to put up with me.” He lets out a huff. “So I took the medicines the doctor gave me. I took more when he said it wasn’t working fast enough. But then, all of a sudden, it was too much. They were pulling me down like water dragging toward a drain.” He nods his head. “I tried to fix it. I took a few different pills. And I went into Mom’s room and took some of hers. I didn’t want to feel sad. But I didn’t mean for any of the other stuff to happen.”
Merrit’s teeth worry at his bottom lip. I wipe my face with my sleeve, then reach for his hand. The pull of sadness terrifies me too. Only, my brother is smart. He’s been called a genius since he was four. He knows about side effects and drug interactions. If I can find it on the internet, it’s already downloaded to the mainframe of his mind. There’s no way he didn’t know what he was doing, that the mix he took was dangerous.
I squeeze Merrit’s hand. I press it to my cheek and lean on him. He puts his arm around me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. I start crying again. I never needed to ask him. I already knew the answer. I was just afraid he would tell me the truth.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 22
ALEX
I squint through slanted rays of sun. Men with hands shoved deep in their pockets walk beside women wearing fur-trimmed hats. Woolen scarves cover mouths. Some people carry children on their shoulders. Others push strollers with miniature faces that peek from blankets. Wind blows and people in blue jumpers holler and grab ropes to tie down cartoon characters. Next to me the foot of a purple dragon comes loose. The creature rolls as if it means to go on its back. If upright, it’d be taller than the twelve-story building behind it.
I’ve never done this before. I’ve only ever seen the parade balloons on the screen of our TV while cutting green olives and onions for Mami’s special stuffing. But Haeres has off the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I figured it would be cool to watch the setup.
My phone beeps.
I’m by Pikachu.
I turn, searching. Coming, I text back.
A lady knocks into me as I type. She was backing up, trying to get a picture of the Poppin’ Fresh, the Pillsbury Doughboy.
“Sorry,” I tell her, even though I wasn’t the one moving.
She jumps when she sees me. Her hands go up like she’s surrendering and her eyes search for help. Another woman in a fur hat scurries over. They link arms and move into the crowd. I shake my head and follow the mass of people down Seventy-Seventh Street, keeping an eye out for Pikachu’s yellow belly and red cheeks.
Bright orange cones divide Columbus. On the other side, people huddle and bob their knees to stay warm in a different line that traces the corner of a glass-walled Shake Shack. It’s so famous, not even the cold could keep them away. Smiling customers exit through windowed doors, gloved hands holding cups of thick custard. I think about grabbing us one. I’d have to jump the orange divider though.
A cop leans against the wall. He scans the crowd. I watch as he picks out a face and follows it. I keep my hands in my pockets and I’m about to duck my head when a familiar girl with red curls comes out of the store. She scoops soft ice cream while talking. The guy behind her holds the door. He pushes his glasses onto his nose.
There’s no way she should see me. Not with all the people around.
I head toward the lemon-colored balloon. I pretend I don’t hear anyone shouting my name. Kiara is standing below an outstretched yellow paw. I kiss her cheek and ask her where Julissa’s at. She starts to tell me Julissa canceled when someone interrupts.
“Alex.” Chrissy stands behind me. She must have run. I was walking pretty fast even with all the people. She had to climb over the plastic barrier. The nearby cop, a different one, isn’t even looking at her. On the opposite side of the street, Kevin stands with both their shakes.
Kiara looks from Chrissy to me. “Who’s she?”
“Can I talk to you?” Chrissy’s focus is only on me.
I put a hand on Kiara’s shoulder. “‘Pérate,” I tell her. “What do you want?” I ask Chrissy.
“Alone?” she asks. “It won’t take long.”
I bend down to Kiara. “Dame un segundito. I’ll be right back.”
Kiara’s hands are on her hips. She shakes her head as I follow Chrissy toward Spider-Man’s foot. She waits for me. Gracias a Dios, she doesn’t trail us.
Chrissy walks us past Spider-Man. When we’re underneath the Diary of a Wimpy Kid’s diary she grabs my jacket. She spins me around.
“You should call Isa.”
I check her face to see if she’s joking. She’s not smiling or anything.
The hot pulse of anger surprises me. “Isa and I, we’re not together.” I thump my chest.
Two gray-haired ladies in matching puffers look at us. No, they look at me. A mom with a stroller steers a wide circle to pass. I unclench my hands.
“I know,” Chrissy says. “But still, you need to talk to her.”
This girl ’ta loca. “Why would I do that? So she can throw me away again?” I didn’t mean to shout. “So she can tell me I’m not good enough for her? Anyway, I’m with someone else. If you didn’t notice.” I jerk my head toward Pikachu.
Chrissy bunches her painted lips. She scratches at her chin like I said something that confuses her. She better not think I’m dating a balloon.
Her eyes narrow. “Wait, what do you mean, so she can throw you away? You didn’t break it off?”
I give her a hard stare, the way Papi does when a player challenges his call.
She stares back. She bunches her lips more. “Well, all I know is, the only time I ever saw her happy—really happy—was when the two of you were together.”
“Yeah? That’s great. Thanks for your opinion. Maybe you should ask your friend what she really thinks of me though.”
Chrissy shakes her head. “Listen, sometimes you don’t know a person’s whole story.” She swats at a curl. “Sometimes we keep secrets from the people we care about. Because we’re trying to protect them. Or protect ourselves.”
I throw my hand up. A man and a woman duck out of the way. “What are you talking about?”
Chrissy crosses her arms. Her ruby mouth smooths to a line. “Isa told me what you thought.” She shrugs a shoulder. “About me and Kevin. About me keeping stuff from him. We’re good now. Isa’s brother, Merrit, helped me out with that. But I should have told Kevin sooner. It would have saved us both a lot. You were right. It’s not good to keep secrets from someone you love.” She stares at me without looking away. Her words remind me of Mami’s. It reminds me of what happened between my parents. Why Papi stopped playing ball. How he had problems with drugs and lied about it to Mami. Until it cost him his career. His marriage. He was lucky it didn’t cost him his life. It’s why he’s so strict about it with us.