“How are you, nemesis?” I heard Lucas greet my sister when he entered their bedroom.
That wasn’t the first time I heard him use that nickname, but I never bothered to ask about it. Having spent the entire afternoon in silence, I found myself in need of a topic. So why not ask about that. Hannah sure as hell knew what it meant.
“Why does he call her that?”
“Hmm?” she asked trying to fight the hunger and wait for the others. Her stomach growled and I chuckled.
“Eat, little Spencer. The least they could do after you spent hours packing their shit is to feed you.”
She hesitated for a moment, but she was too hungry to argue. She took a slice and started eating standing up beside me.
“What’s with that nemesis shit?” I asked again.
“Oh,” Hannah said between bites without even glancing at me. Apparently when she was hungry everything was a background noise. “It’s like a private joke between the two of them.”
I looked at her face waiting for a real explanation. She must have felt I was staring at her, because she finally turned to me.
“Nemesis. The goddess of retribution,” she finally said. “From Greek mythology.”
“I didn’t know my sister had a God complex.”
“She doesn’t,” Hannah glanced at their bedroom door and leaned closer to me to whisper. “Lucas on the other hand…”
Her scent invaded my nostrils just like on the airport that morning. She leaned back away from me more relaxed now that she was eating.
“Which Greek god do you think I could pull off?” I asked.
“Is there a god of recklessness? Of wasted time and STDs?” she shot me an angelic look. She was basically right, if you don’t count the STDs, but I shook my head and continued the game I was playing for years.
“I’m thinking Dionysius. The god of wine and good time.” Her laugher filled the space between us. It was a brief laugh. I wanted to hear it again, so I continued. “Hello? He is also associated with sexual freedom. I am big on pleasure.” And then because I was also reckless like she said a moment ago I added. “As you might remember.”
I expected another blush. She was easy prey, but I still liked making her uncomfortable. Hannah surprised me though. Her cheeks remained pale. There was a hint of a smile on her greasy lips. She continued munching and the conversation ended there.
I watched her while she ate. She was beautiful. I wondered why her douchebag of a boyfriend even paid attention to Tracy the other day. Hannah was gorgeous.
Lucas and Clem finally came out of their bedroom. My sister ran back there five seconds later, because the smell of the pizza made her stomach flip.
The three of us ate. Lucas and Hannah joked around, while I mostly felt out of place. We had to leave soon. We hadn’t talked about leaving the apartment together, but none of us suggested otherwise either, so I decided to pretend it hadn’t even crossed my mind. She did the same.
Half an hour later we both snuck into the bedroom to tell Clem we were leaving. She looked sick and sleepy. As if she hadn’t slept the whole afternoon.
“Call me tomorrow, okay?” Hannah said to my sister and left us alone.
I sat down on the bed with a question in mind. I had a gut feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer but I had to ask.
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed help packing?”
Clem put her hand on top of mine that was resting on my knee and smiled.
“I know it’s not your thing.”
“Neither is camping in the woods, but you made me do that,” I teased and she smiled just like I intended.
“I have to choose my battles.”
Chapter Eight
Hannah
I didn’t invite Tyler to get in the car I rented at the airport, but I didn’t tell him to go away either, telling myself it was risky to leave him alone. He could just get on the plane back to Boston. But the truth was I enjoyed his snarky comments and sardonic questions.
Except he got really quiet after we drove off. There was something gloomy under all that fun exterior.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. “You look…” I paused waiting for him to say the right word.
I saw with my periphery that he turned his head to look at me. I could feel his eyes on my face. Seconds passed in total silence.
“I look…?” he finally asked, and I heard the smile in his voice. Not so gloomy after all.
“Forget it,” I shook my head. “I thought you were sad or something.”
“Sad?” he asked, full-blown laughing now. “I am not sad. I can’t even remember the last time I was sad.” He paused for a moment as if he knew exactly when that was, but he didn’t want to remember it, then continued. “When was the last time you were sad?”
I felt like he was asking me about us. It was a stupid assumption. Why would he do that? I also didn’t want to revive that miserable night in my own mind, let alone talk to him about it, so I just blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.
“When my neighbor’s cat died.”
“I thought you were a dog person.”
“I am,” I said, surprised he knew that. “That means I would get a dog, instead of a cat. Not that I hate cats and wish they were dead.”
His chuckle made me smile too. I still couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to him. Even when we argued that morning, at the airport. I haven’t seen him for years, we had a messed up, complicated history and yet the conversation was just flowing like we were old friends.
“So you got sad because a cat that didn’t even belong to you died? That seems weird.”
“It’s not weird. My neighbor is an eighty-year-old lady. Her husband died twelve years ago. She adopted the cat shortly after his passing to have someone to talk to.”
“See? Relationships fuck people up. He left her alone and she started talking with cats.”
“The man died, Tyler. They had a great life together, but everyone dies eventually. You can’t hold that against him.”
“Death is just another reason not to get too attached to people. The person that is left behind will suffer.”
“What about the good memories?” I raised my voice.
“She got a cat to help her deal with her husband’s death. I think it’s pretty obvious that the good memories are not enough.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said outraged. “What about your parents? I’m sure they have good memories from their marriage even though it ended.”
“My father screwed a woman that was half my mother’s age. That woman showed up on our doorstep one day to share with us the details of their affair. The whole town whispered behind my parents’ backs for months. You know Sylvia almost as well as I do. Do you really think she lies in bed at night thinking about the good times she had with my father? I don’t think so.”
“What does she think about then?” I asked.
“How he ruined her life,” he said with a morbid tone.
My heart pounded in my chest. There was something else behind his words. It sounded like guilt. It felt wrong to push him for answers.
“That’s a possibility,” I agreed and stopped arguing.