10
Charley
The basketball game ends on TV. I don’t know much about basketball, but Cade was right about that girl. She was amazing. The confidence she had. How good she was. It must be addicting to have thousands of people chanting your name during games. Kind of makes me sad I never got into sports.
The TV turns off, and I look over at Cade, who’s gotten more comfortable as the night’s gone on. His shirt is currently off, draped across the bottom of the bed. Good thing the game was so interesting or I would’ve been staring at him all night.
He intends to stay. It’s not a joke anymore, and oddly, I kind of like it. I asked questions, and we had a full-on conversation. There was no yelling about interrupting his show or being called stupid for not understanding something.
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” I tell him, lifting off the mattress and grabbing my bag. The tension in the air thickens,like everything is highlighted by how late it is, and we all know what people do in hotel rooms at night.
I slip into the bathroom and let out a charged breath. Quickly, I change into my pajamas and think about not going to the bathroom in case he can hear me pee through the door, but who am I kidding? It’s my room. So, I do all the essentials, including brushing my teeth, and then stand with my hand on the door. I take a moment to gather myself before walking out again.
On tiptoes, I prowl like a burglar to my bed.
A slight chuckle sounds from his side of the room. “What are you doing, Sunshine?”
“Sunshine?” I drop my bag on the chair and turn.
“I thought it would be a funny nickname for someone who likes thunderstorms and black cats.” His gaze drops to my lips, and I scurry to my bed, getting under the covers. “Do you mind if I use your toothpaste?”
“Sure, I left it in there.”
He stretches to his full height, and I get a spectacular view of his back muscles flexing and twisting with his movements. As soon as the bathroom door closes, I stare up at the ceiling. When I was in middle school, I used to beg whoever was listening for something to happen to me. Something other than going to school, making meals, and spending alone time in my room.
By the time I was in high school, I’d given up the idea. I sort of just accepted my life because no one else was going to take care of my dad. No one knows he really exists anymore. Another thing I think about often. I’m the only interaction he has.
I gave up on trying to get him out more.
I gave up on so much stuff.
When the bathroom door creaks open, I don’t look over. I hold my breath while Cade shuts off the lights. “Is complete darkokay?” He chuckles to himself. “I forgot who I was talking to. You probably sleep in a coffin.”
His statement catches me off guard, and I laugh—loudly—before throwing my hand over my mouth.
“There she is,” he says. He must slip into the other bed because it groans under his weight. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness yet, so I stare into an empty black hole, yet…there’s something different about hearing another human close by. “I’m taking my pants off to sleep, but don’t worry, I have boxers on.”
“Oh, okay.” My heart pounds. The sound nearly fills my ears. I wish I could be as comfortable with anyone as Cade is with—let’s face it. I’m practically a stranger. A sadness creeps in, festering like an open wound. Pushing it aside, I try not to dwell on it, but the question keeps popping into my head.What have I been missing while I’ve been taking care of Dad?
“Tell me about your friend,” I whisper.
“Brady?” he answers, and I like the sound of his hushed, low voice, like we’re both too scared to break the easiness between us. “He was a good guy. The best friend anyone could ask for. Funny, a heck of a football player. He was a prankster. He would constantly be pulling some sort of joke on us. Rubber ducks in our locker room lockers. He once bought every pair of clearance underwear on sale at this mature ladies’ store that was going out of business and filled Reid’s car with them. I swear, he still found a couple under the seats a year later.”
The way Cade tells the story, I can see it in my head. Friends laughing together. It sounds…awesome. “I like that,” I tell him. “What else did he do?”
“He got on the morning announcements once and rapped one of Shakespeare’s sonnets because our English teacher gave him a terrible grade just to be a jerk.”
“He sounds…popular.”
“I guess you could say we were,” Cade offers, still in his quiet voice. “It’s different when you’re on a sports team. Especially a good one. You don’t have to try that hard to get people to like you, but none of that mattered because we had each other.”
“What happened to him, Cade? You said it was on the field?”
He doesn’t answer for a little while, and I almost tell him he doesn’t have to say anything.
His voice is raspy. “It was a fluke, they said. He got hit in the exact right spot at the exact wrong time, and his heart stopped. Just like that.”
The backs of my eyes heat, that tingling sensation when I’m about to cry starts, and I breathe in deep. “That’s awful, Cade. I’m sorry. Did you ever think about quitting after that?”