Page 52 of A Favor Owed

“Fine,” she mumbles. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“What’s her name?” asks my mom.

“It doesn’t matter, Ma,” I say. “She’s not my girl. She’sagirl. And Siobhan’s right. She doesn’t have anything to do with me, and I don’t have anything to do with her. I just think she’s pretty, that’s all. All the guys do.”

“Why’s your face red as a beet, then?” asks Mikey.

“All right, leave him alone,” says my dad. He goes back to eating his pizza.

I just shake my head and focus on my food.

“Your dad and I were just talking about my fiftieth birthday, Brady,” says my mom.

“Jesus, you’re old,” says Mike.

“Stop talking with your mouth full, Mikey,” says my mom.

“Just stop talking, period,” suggests Siobhan.

“Anyway,” my mom continues, “I was thinking we could all take a trip together. Nowhere expensive, not like Europe or anything, but I was thinking maybe a week at the Jersey Shore?”

“We do that every summer,” says Siobhan.

“Well, yeah, but my birthday’s in May. I just thought it’d be nice to get away together, out of the city, before the shore gets crowded. What do you think, Brady? You’ll be back from California in a few months, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, looking at my dad for cues. The truth is, we might not all be together in May.

“We’ve still got a while to plan,” says my dad evasively. “But yeah, baby, whatever you want,” he adds when my mom doesn’t say anything.

“Well, I don’t want to do anything that no one else wants to do,” says my mom, looking bummed out at our lack of enthusiasm.

“I think it’s a great idea, Ma,” I say.

After dinner I meet up with some of my buddies from the firehouse and their wives and girlfriends at our local bar, then I go home and go to bed. It’s good to breathe the air I’m used to and hear the sounds I grew up with—my parents watching television in their room, cars whooshing by on the main street, the occasional airplane overhead. Every now and then, I hear Siobhan cackle as she FaceTimes with her friends. I hear my mom laugh and say something to my dad, and the low rumble of his voice answer back.

This is what I’m protecting. My home. My family. No girl is worth putting this at risk.

I pick up my phone.She works at Legal Aid every Wednesday, I text.She does human trafficking cases.

I should feel good, or at least like I’m doing the right thing. But I feel like shit.

My phone buzzes with a text. Lou acknowledging receipt, I assume. I glance at it indifferently, then abruptly sit up.

An uptick in female pheromones was just recorded on the East Coast. You must have made it to NY.

I snort a laugh.I care about only one girl’s pheromones, I text back. She’s got purple hair and smells like coconut.

Glad you’re OK.

I’m so not okay, Angela. I am completely fucked.

I miss my benefits, I text.

I miss my friend, she texts back.

Aargh. Stab right to the gut. I run my hand through my hair. Another text flashes before I can think of anything to say back.I meant Kelsey. She’s not at work tonight.

I laugh and shake my head.Right, Pines. I miss you too FWIW.And that’s the God’s honest truth. I want her safely in this bed with me, not riding home on her bike at three o’clock in the morning. I want her with me at Ground Zero tomorrow.I want us to have a chance, for fuck’s sake.

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