Page 8 of The Sidekick

Trevor told me to let it go and that she was growing up, but I knew it was wrong. She wasn’t growing up. She was shutting down.

When the news broke about Andi’s psycho stalker, I was pissed. Tera had to know what was happening and never breathed a word of it. I wanted to throttle her. Then I realized she might have been tense because of all the pressure she was under hanging out with Andi.

But her stress didn’t get better with the asshole arrested, and she was shutting down more and more. Her smile has been absent for months now. The one she gives customers is fake and hesitant instead of sunny and comforting.

When the robbery started, Trevor and I were in the office arguing about her, trying to come to a compromise that wouldn’t damage our relationship. I wanted him to bring her into the office and make her talk to him. I knew he could do it. He has a good sense of when to push and when to back off, which I needed because I would push until something broke. I needed him as a go-between, and he refused.

And then Joe.

She was right next to him, holding his arm.

Watching him fall felt like I was stuck in slow motion. Trevor tackled me to the ground and yelled for Tera to get down, but she was frozen until the gunfire ended.

I wanted to go with her to the hospital, but Sal had decided holding onto me was the best comfort she had ever known and wouldn’t let go. Trevor had to speak to the police. There was no one else. I watched her argue with the paramedics hysterically before she jumped in. Then she was gone.

My thoughts finally sputter out as the exhaustion catches up to me. Trevor’s light snoring has lulled me down until I’m almost asleep.

Chapter Three

Tera

The alarm for work wakes me up, and I fumble to hit snooze. I feel like I’m coming down with a cold, maybe the flu. Should I call in? I’d hate to get anyone else sick. My body aches, and my head is all foggy. Then I remember last night, and the sick feeling gets worse.

I huddle under my sheets, pulling them over my head as if they could ward off monsters and depression.

When the alarm goes off again, I pull myself up and stop it. I have several missed calls, mainly from Andi. That same unknown number has called a few more times, and so has Trevor with increasing frequency. I should have called him last night or this morning. I hope he forgives me for not wanting to talk to anyone.

The messages are mostly Andi, and I don’t want to listen to them. I skip down to Trevor’s, suddenly desperate to hear one friendly voice, and his concern washes over me like a balm when the message plays.

“Tera, please call me. I know you’re probably still taking care of Joe at the hospital, but we’re worried. Just a quick one to let us know you’re ok, and then you can get back to making him laugh. Bye.”

If only that was the reason I didn’t call. I would give anything to make that my reality right now. I waver on calling him immediately, just to hear his voice, but I don’t know if I’m ready. How annoyed will he be when I start crying?

The following message is a brief one from an unknown number. An angry voice fills my ear, and I almost hang up until the words penetrate the fog.

“This is Max. Call Trevor. Now.”

That’s all he says. This is the first time I’ve ever heard Max speak. Probably the last time, too. I should save this message to prove he isn’t mute like he pretends to be.

The following two from Trevor go from concerned to almost frantic, and guilt worms its way through my heart. I need to call him now. I can’t put it off any longer. I don’t like that he’s this worried.

I pull up Trevor’s number, guilt and concern overwhelming me. I have to decline a call from Andi before I can even dial.

“Tera?” His voice is sharp and angry. It surprises me because I’ve never heard him this mad, and I feel like a little kid about to be scolded. The guilt builds up until it feels like I’m choking.

“He didn’t make it,” I whisper shakily, taking a deep breath to hold in the sudden onslaught of tears. I’m not going to get yelled at while bawling my eyes out. It feels like cheating to get out of a lecture for some reason.

“Fuck,” his tone changes instantly, hushing into sorrow.

Silence fills the line, and I hear a guy asking him something in the background.

“Joe died,” he responds, and the silence goes on.

It’s unnerving, listening to his soft breathing and the murmur of someone else in the background. I had no idea he had a roommate. I guess I am oblivious to everything around me, just like Sal complained.

The other voice stops, and Trevor takes a deep breath before asking, “Are you still at the hospital?”

“No, I’m home,” I pick at the covers, wanting nothing more than to get off the phone. I told him what he needed to know, there’s no real reason to keep talking. I finally called and somehow escaped a tirade. I want to end this on a high note.

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