Page 16 of The Significance of Moving On

“How’d you find me?” I ask, not ready to turn around.

“Your phone. That iPhone, find my phone app. Smart thinking, giving Kelsey your password.” He spins me until face him, though I try hard not to look him in the eyes until he forces my chin up and I give in. “Why?” he asks. And I know exactly what he’s asking.

Why? I sigh, defeated. “Because I’m losing my mind and you don’t deserve to have to deal with this. I heard them laughing. I heardyoulaughing. Listen, it might be good to sort myself out before I try to people again.” There, that’s the most honest answer I can give as I blink back the tears that I’m tired of shedding. “My mom didn’t want me. My dad died. Tom killed himself. The universe hates me.”

“I’d offer to kick the universe’s butt, but I’m not sure how effective that would be. Come home. Now isn’t the time to be alone. You know I know, Tal.”

How far would I get anyway? “Fine.” I roll my eyes as I overexaggerate the word. “But I’m warning you, this level of crazy can’t be contained.”

Casey shakes his head while he laughs at me. “Duly noted.” We walk from there out to his truck. He unlocks my door first. The drive home much shorter than the walk there.

Demetrius and Kelsey sit on the front porch of Tom’s house when we back in across the street into Casey’s driveway, D’s arm slung around her waist. If he pulls her any closer she’ll be sitting on his lap. Since she’s a hair’s breadth shy of eighteen, I have no doubt they’re both counting down the days until he’s allowed toreallyget to know her. Good for them.

“We’ve done enough cleaning for today, I think.” Casey brushes a loose strand of my hair off my cheek.

“Yeah, I’m spent.” It’s true, all the emotion, the cleaning, the walking has just drained me—I chew on my bottom lip. “Is he a good guy?” I ask, pointing to Demetrius.

“My brother? Yeah, he’s great.”

“He should take her out. Kelsey’s given up her Florida beach summer to be here, and I’d like her to have some fun.”

“Sure you won’t mind?”

“No. You trust him, and I trust you so…”

Casey rolls down his window, sticks his head out and cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Brother,” he yells. “Get your ass cleaned up and take that girl out.”

When D smiles and Kelsey’s eyes light up, I know they’d been putting this off for me.

“What about you?” Casey asks me.

“Nah, I don’t wanna go out with your brother.”

“I meant—never mind. How ’bout we go in, maybe watch a movie?”

“With snacks? I didn’t exactly eat when you did.”

His easy smile reiterates how over the awkwardness from me kissing him, he is.

Before the preparing the goodies or starting the show, I change into my pink spaghetti strap tank top and cute little light pink boy shorts with the darker pink hearts on them that I wear as pajamas and my blanket because comfort is key.

Kelsey claimed the shower first, cleaning up for her date. When I come out of the bedroom, Casey is squatting down in front of his bookshelf full of DVDs looking all kinds of wow in a pair of gray sweats and another white T-shirt. He picks five or six movies, stands, and turns.

His eyes bulge and mouth drops open. For a moment I’m hopeful that he’s looking at me like that. But my hope bubble bursts when Kelsey clears her throat behind me. I pivot, stepping aside for her to pass by. She’s the definition of beautiful. A goddess in her periwinkle sundress, also with spaghetti straps, fitted bodice and plunging V-neck showing off her tanned skin and auburn hair flowing around her shoulders. Who can compete with a goddess?

Chapter Nine

We pull all the furniture from my room and secure a plastic tarp over the carpet because as Casey told me a couple of days ago when he dragged me to the home improvement store to get supplies, it’s time to really make the room mine.

More time passes between my breakdowns. I have my bad days, but in the few weeks that have gone by since I tried to leave, they’ve come fewer. I’ve started to feel more like my old self, at least in small increments.

Kelsey finishes taping off the trim while I pour the thick Granny Smith Apple color into the tray and roll the brush through, loading paint heavily over the fibers. My first stroke is a V. Tommy taught me that. Casey and Kels start in with their brushes. We paint quietly for a while, really until I go to stretch a kink out of my back, accidentally flinging paint over my shoulder.

“Hey,” Kelsey shouts, and flings paint back at me. I retaliate. Out of nowhere we both get splashed in the face by a glob of green. Kelsey and I, we squeal and turn to a hysterical Casey who’s bent over belly laughing—oh, it’s on.

By the time the paint runs out, the floor is a slippery mess and there’s more on us than the walls with exception of the thick splatter marks.

“We have to get cleaned up.” Kelsey starts sliding toward the door, but Casey grabs her arm.

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