Page 15 of What You Own
“That’s a strangely mature response to finding out your first love doesn’t remember that he said he loved you back.”
My belly rippled with old hurts. “It doesn’t count when only one of you knows he said it, and I don’t expect him to say it again.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can survive seven weeks, until the benefit is over and the center is safe. Then he’s gone again, I can say a proper good-fucking-bye, and move on with my life.”
“Easier said than done.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Chapter 5
Ryan
SINCEIdidn’t mention it sooner, my actual pay-the-rent-and-cell-phone-bill job is clerking at a twenty-four-hour Walgreens. I’ve worked there for a while, and it’s decent. I get good hours because I don’t mind doing the overnights, and it gives me more daytime for the center and my college classes. The manager is nice and is pretty flexible on scheduling, and we’ve never been robbed—unlike the pharmacy six blocks away.
I got called in early today because someone called out, so I ended up working twelve hours, and there’s nothing better than a hot, home-cooked meal after a day like that. I smelled Momma’s barbecued chicken while I was walking up the stone path to the front door of my parents’ house. I’d stopped thinking of it as my house when I moved in with Ellie, even though I still had a key and didn’t have to knock before going in.
“You’re outta the nest, but you’ll always be my chick,” Momma said that day.
Their house was a single-story rancher, set in with about fifty homes just like it, with a postage stamp of a front yard, and a slightly larger backyard overtaken by Momma’s vegetable garden. She insisted on always growing and canning her own string beans and sweet corn, and there’s nothing better than fresh cucumbers and tomatoes warm straight from the garden.
I shucked my shoes in the entry, glad to give my aching feet a break. The TV was blaring from the living room. Daddy was sprawled in his leather recliner, feet up, a beer in his hand. He waved when he saw me, then went back to watching Judge Joe Brown give some knucklehead what for on the television. He loved those shows.
Momma came in from the kitchen with a smile full of sunshine. I swear, she could hear the door open from anyplace in the house, even if I was being quiet. People say I got most of my looks from her, and I always take the compliment. She’s a natural beauty, like most of her sisters, even with her hair mussed up and barbecue sauce on her cheek.
“Hey, baby! You’re right on time.”
I hugged her tight, maybe a little too tight, just to feel that sense of safety and warmth you get from hugging your momma, and she noticed. She pulled back and put her hands on my cheeks, eyeballing me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Her tone got Daddy’s attention off the television. He hit mute and yanked the lever on his chair so he could stand up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it from them, but I didn’t think it would come up within two minutes of walking in the door. I could keep secrets about as good as a screen door could block the wind.
“I saw Adam yesterday,” I said.
Momma’s eyes went wide and round, while Daddy got red-faced. “What in blazes did that boy want with you?” he asked. He’d tried to drop his accent over the years, but it roared back out when he was mad.
“It wasn’t really on purpose.” I explained the benefit briefly and that he’d been just as surprised to see me.
“You shouldn’t have gone begging to that man in the first place,” Daddy said.
“We weren’t begging, and the lists were random. I didn’t know Adam was interning there. It was bad luck, is all. If Mr. Quartermaine’s meeting wasn’t late, we’d have talked directly to him.”
“Did that boy have anything to say for himself?” Momma asked. She crossed her arms, feathers ruffled, more annoyed now than concerned.
“I mean they scrambled my brain with that brick, Ryan.”
“Yeah, he did, actually.” My stomach rumbled, as much from nerves as being empty. “Can we talk about it while we eat? I’m hungrier than a spring bear.”
We moved the intervention into the kitchen. I helped Momma put a plate of baked barbecue chicken, fried potatoes, string beans, and a bowl of sliced tomatoes and cucumbers onto the table. Daddy grabbed the iced tea pitcher and poured glasses for me and Momma. Once we’d settled in with food on our plates and said the blessing, Momma gave me three bites of chicken before she went on full force again with questions.
“Well? What did Adam have to say to you?” she asked.
“How much did you guys know about his injuries from the bashing?” I asked.
They shared a quick look I couldn’t figure. “We knew what everyone else knew, baby. He had a broken arm and skull fracture, plus bumps and bruises from the fight.”
