Chương 15: Awkward Silences
Let me refresh your memory: I have three older brothers. They're all out of the house.
Micah Wood Jr. is the oldest. I can honestly say I've never lived under the same roof as him. He graduated early, went to Yale or something, and performed his civic duties as the dream child. These days, he's a medical field extraordinaire with a family of his own.
Next up: Nicholas Wood. Nick. Gingery hair, a clear face, cool-blue eyes to get lost in, and enough perfected muscles on his body to defy physics (Nature blessed him with Mom's looks.) Nick left the house before I knew feet could walk. Thanks to rich parents, he models for a living: swimsuit magazines and commercials. He's the underground Hollywood star, ready to marry a rich actress and make his debut. He might be engaged again. I don't know.
Finally, Kyle, the guy sitting on my couch in the living room.
I'm seventeen… He'd be twenty-two. Old enough for the "adult" privileges everyone loves so much. Unlike my rat's nest, his head was cropped in a light shade of tree bark. He reminded me of a jock in any chick-flick ever.
I think, if my parents had stopped after him, their lives would be much happier. Sure, Kyle had gotten into some jiffies of his own. But his life was back in order. Now he was across the country paying his own way through college.
Plus, one problem child is bad enough.
Stuart was right. I never want a true relationship with another human being. People are stupid. They see the world as a mirror, themselves the focus of every living soul. But I'll be the first to admit, Kyle's the closest I ever got.
I looked up.
Kyle Wood was here, on my couch, eating my Cool Ranch Doritos.
He had a cell phone smudged against his ear. "...No, I'm here right now. No, don't worry about it. Yes, I'll be back in time. I'm just checking in. No, you are. No. Yeah, okay. Tell him…no, really? Yeah, well, okay, bye. No, you're…yeah, okay…"
His hand pressed tiny circles against the side of his face. Wondering the benefits of a temple massage, I took my pen and noted I should try it sometime.
Let's pretend that wasn't sarcastic.
I would have stood there for hours groping for something to do. Something to say. Ask the questions he never answered. I decided then and there not to mention the letter. Or maybe he'd seen it. Maybe he was here for me and my questions. I would've waited for him to turn around and see more than his own shadow. Thanks to a certain someone, I didn't have to.
Julia White shut the door. I cringed at the stomp of her feet.
Don't get the wrong impression. She wasn't angry or anything. But, despite my sneaky entrance, Julia showed no effort to be quiet and tiptoe like an abnormal person. She moved as anyone else would, heel to toe, allowing gravity to push her back down. As a result, she made a lot of noise.
Kyle faced me. His voice faded.
The phone blared, "ASOIDFJOPQEINGIQUPNRVOASMCOSDNOIRPQNVAOISCJOISDJMOISNXWVQOENCAIWEDHIAUNCIUVBE."
Or something like that. (I swept my hands across the keyboard to see what I could make happen.)
"What?" He held a finger up to me, the pointer one. Not the other one he's used on countless occasions. "No, my brother just got here. No, this isn't me breaking up with you. Yeah, I was saving that for tomorrow. Babe, I'm kidding; no, don't say that. I am not. Well, fine then. Let's just say it was a slip of the tongue. Yeah, like that guy. Exactly. No, I'm hanging up first-"
Kyle fisted his phone and mumbled some choice words. I cleared my throat. Not to get his attention. I had forgotten to swallow.
Nevertheless, his attention I got.
Kyle's lips cracked into that almost smile they always did. "Sorry, that was just my…girlfriend."
Julia spoke at my side, "Your girlfriend lets you talk to her that way?"
"Well, as of a few seconds ago, she's my ex. That means I can talk to her however I want." Kyle swigged a can of Dad's liquor into his mouth and tossed the empty chip bag to the floor.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Julia said.
"I'm not! If I wanted to kill myself, I climb her ego and jump to her IQ. She can go leap off a bridge for all I care…" He glanced at me. The smile faded from his lips. "Ben, who's this?"
I stared at my Nikes. "Um, right. Kyle, Julia. Julia, Kyle."
"Uh-huh."
The sky went ten shades darker.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
I wish I could explain my emotions to you. Was I screaming inside? What kind of scream was it: kidnapping, cliff-jumping, or math homework? I don't know. My tiny person had taken over, leaving me a mindless zombie to follow every command.
"Geez." A sharp edge poked across his face. Kyle set the can down. "Thanks for the welcome home."
I folded my arms. I'm not sure what game we were playing. The quiet game? Checkmate? Distraction, tackle, spit-take? Hit and run? He loved a good game of hit and run, especially the "run" part. Tiny Person swam within an empty pit of chaos, finding glass shards on the surface.
"For your information, I came back to check on you," he said. "I saw you on the class news feed the other day and you were taking up every civil rights debate on campus. Course, no one bothered to call me about any of this. I was worried."
"Oh."'
I hadn't mentioned that in the letter. Is that why he sent it back?
He collapsed on the couch. I saw no other option but to sit down next to him. The room shifted.
Kyle faced me. "Boy, have I got a story for you."
The rubber band in my chest loosened. Kyle told me about his time at college and the mysterious girlfriend caller. Turns out he'd had her as a tutor. Long story short, she used his popularity while he used her smarts. They got through about a month of life together until they broke up on the phone just now. Girls don't like being used like that. Who knew?
Kyle shoved me over. My back pressed flat against the couch.
I looked up at his smirk. "What was that for?"
"Since when do you have a girlfriend?"
"What?"
Kyle pinned my shoulders on the seat cushions. He glanced at the wall. "I mean, she comes home with you, you two riding all snuggly in the car together. Good thing I was here to keep you two out of trouble, huh?"
"What?"
"Ben has a girlfriend while I'm dumped. Never thought I'd be able to say that without lying straight to someone's face."
"What?"
"What?"
"Look," I said. The rubber band yanked back, using my ribcage as a lever. "Julia's not…she's…just…no."
"Speechless?"
"Kyle!"
"Ben!"
"Okaaaay, I'm gonna go." Female. I looked over my shoulder, finding a brunette with leafy eyes. Julia. Kyle had an elephant's grin. Crap, Julia! Who let her inside? How did I get here again?
She didn't look at me when she left.
The door closed. I was alone. With Kyle.
He nudged his wrist against my shoulder. I say wrist because it wasn't mean. It wasn't a mere tap either. You people from planet earth would call this a "brotherly shove." I call it "Kyle on a Friday."
Our front door creaked open. We exchanged a glance as footsteps shuffled for the entryway. Had Julia forgotten her purse or something? Did Julia even carry a purse? What if Stan Richardson was back to destroy me?
"...Look, I'm on your side."
Male. I reached for the carpets. I needed to bury myself.
Dad wiped his face and coughed. "What you said about the…orphan with cancer…was taken out of context. But you have to understand that I'm not a miracle worker. I can't…. Right. I'll get on that." My father's eyes climbed for mine and followed my neck. "Mr. Peterson, I'll have to call you back. Bad…reception."
Dad's thumb swiped over the 6.4-inch screen. I recognized the beep of hanging up. The sound resembled my breathing, dead feedback while I waited for the floor to give out.
He looked at Kyle. "What did you do this time?"
The rubber band stretched past my insides and grabbed Dad and Kyle.
My brother dropped his hands and emptied his pockets. "Nothing. I'm just here to see Ben."
"Just dropping by?"
"Yup."
"You don't need money?"
"Nope."
"Well…good." Dad reached for a hug, but Kyle snatched his fist into a firm handshake. "Honey! Order takeout. You won't believe who's here."
Mom reacted as well as she could've. "Oh, gosh. How bad is it?"
Dad wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "He comes in peace, Steph."
"Peace?"
"Yup?"
"No cops?"
"Nope."
Everyone smiled, with the exception of myself. I knew what was coming. They were too optimistic. Mom hugged Kyle, and he patted her on the shoulder. I awaited Kyle's yelling voice, but he wore the half-smirk and let our parents carry the conversation.
Mom asked me to fix up Kyle's old room. I unlocked the door. The bed was unmade, a suitcase with two grey t-shirts sprawled over the floor. I nodded to myself and trudged back downstairs. The nuclear bomb would go off soon. Then he'd run. Hit and Run, his favorite game.
My parents are Kyle-enthused blind optimists, but don't be mistaken. I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist.
"Alright, I wanna hear all about college," Mom said.
Kyle glanced at me. I watched questions boil within his irises, but he sighed, "Well, I guess I'll start with my new ex-girlfriend."
You don't need to hear about this again.
We sat around the kitchen table. I spent most of the night listening to them talk. Kyle didn't ask about me. He stayed calm when our parents didn't bring up my police visit. He held conversations looking at Mom's eyes and Dad's nose. It was a nice change of pace, but I couldn't help thinking about the ticking bomb inside the cookie jar.
My parents badgered my poor brother with every question known to man. His lifestyle, his classes, his girlfriends.
Kyle sent me an occasional glance as his face shaded over with red. He asked about election polls. He asked about Mom's parents. He asked about the news, life in Delcoph, climate change. My parents threw out vague answers and replaced them with more college questions. He answered them and nudged back with his questions. It was as if a political talk show guest star and celebrity game show host had a rambunctious set of children on steroids.
The night ended when Kyle said he was going to bed. He didn't ask about me. I told my parents I was going too and trailed my brother upstairs.
"Kyle…"
He looked like he had more to say, but his mouth clamped shut. He'd never done that before.
It was scaring me.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Ben," he said, hand on his old bedroom door. "Keep your schedule open. We're gonna hit every hot spot on our list tomorrow. Then we'll go again and have even more fun than the first time. Get some sleep."
His face had paled back. The chemical equation was balanced for now.
"Okay…goodnight."
"'Night."
Kyle slammed his door shut. I let my own door close and stared at the wood for a while. Letting Tiny Person go on vacation, I collapsed into bed and checked on my school assignment. I needed something to focus on. I didn't want to be a player in his game.
I opened the laptop.
Write about a current issue in Delcoph, New York.
It hadn't completed itself yet. Perhaps I could write about the fountain itself, an artifact, once majestic, now shredded in ruins. The fountain is a long-lost symbol of peace. It's not the rusty piece of crap everyone thinks it is. Could I make up my own history?
Yes. I could.
Historical Artifact in Modern Day Ruins. The fountain was built as a cancer-awareness project. Sure.
Forty-five minutes later, I submitted the essay.
My mind wandered. Maybe Kyle didn't ask my parents about me because he knew the truth didn't matter. Maybe that's why he didn't read my letter.
I shook my head. I had to stop. He talked to me like I was important. That's all that mattered. He'd asked me about myself, told me about himself, talked about my friends and Julia White…
I nailed my head on the wall.
Kyle had said…he was wrong. Julia White was a pain in the rear. Still, was this just my tiny person's way of saying…
I flicked myself in the forehead
I admitted it: I didn't hate her. She'd bribed me into going to therapy. I was forced into this friendship thing from the get-go. I knew, despite my inability to take hints through gestures and word phrases, she was hiding something from me.
But holy crap. I didn't hate her.
Would I go so far to say I'd take a bullet? That seems extreme. I guess, by the definition of every drama I've read involving teenagers or desperate adults, Julia White was a good friend.
More like an okay friend.
She'd get a four on a scale from one to ten.
Fine, four and a half.
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực