Page 97 of Tapped By My Roommate
I grimaced. “I just wanted the best for my mom.”
“Ouch.” He cracked a grin. “Luckily, she disagrees about what’s best for her, huh? Listen, Rhett. I know we got off on the wrong foot. I know you think I’m a self-serving bastard. But I love your mom. Love your whole family.”
“Okay.”
“You’re part of that family, though. And I want us to coexist peacefully. So I’m going to tell you why I was so protective of my money when I first moved in. And I hope, maybe, you’ll give me another chance.”
“You don’t owe me anything. If you help me with the car, that’s enough.”
He scowled “Then do me the favor of listening, huh?”
“Okay,” I said and reluctantly allowed him to herd me back to the garage.
Over a beer, I listened as Keith finally told me why he’d been stingy with his money, while he still was stingier than he wanted to be. And when he was done, I realized there were sides to Keith I never knew. And that maybe nothing in life was as black and white as it seemed—especially not as simple as it had seemed to a teenage boy who’d wanted to protect his mother.
I sat in stunned silence as Keith shared the story of his brother, Shane, who was in a nursing home and had been for twenty years—ever since a terrible accident nearly took his life. Keith had been giving nearly every penny to his name to provide his brother the best care he could once their parents died.
“You could have told me,” I said. “Why didn’t you ever explain?”
“It’s hard to talk about,” he said. “I feel responsible for what happened. I was driving that day, and—” His voice cracked with emotion. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. It’s tough to talk about, and I thought you were a little punk, so I wasn’t about to give you ammunition. You already thought I was a terrible person. The thing is, Rhett, you weren’t entirely wrong. I ruined my brother’s life, and that’s something I hope you never have to live with.”
“It was an accident,” I said. But I knew. I knew what he was feeling. Just the idea of being responsible for hurting Cary that way—even if it was an accident—turned my stomach. “Jesus, Keith. I’m sorry.”
* * *
ETHAN
Baby Rhett was adorable, but then I knew he would be. He had bright eyes, chubby cheeks, and an impish expression that seemed to spell trouble. Rhett’s mom—she asked me to call her Marilyn—flipped pages, telling me details about each photo as we went through Rhett’s formative years.
“This is right after he dumped all my flour into a vat of water so he could make me a cake,” she said, sounding fondly exasperated. The picture of Rhett showed a little fair-haired boy with hands that were caked in white, with more powder splashed across his face.
“What a brat,” Cary deadpanned.
Marilyn laughed. “Like you were any better.”
“Oh my god, remember what he did to the cat?” Audrey said, snickering.
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“She hid under the bed for almost a week!” Audrey said, full out cackling as she turned to me. “Cary was a chubby toddler, and…” she gasped, “h-he tried to ride the cat like a pony.”
“Oh no,” I said, feeling bad for the tabby I’d seen in a few of their snapshots. “Poor kitty.”
Cary scowled. “The poor kitty scratched me, took off like a shot, and left me crying. I was just ababy.”
“It was unfortunate for everyone involved,” Marilyn allowed, her lips switching. I couldn’t help grinning too. Cary seemed so affronted, even years later, and Audrey’s laugh was infectious.
“Then Rhett played doctor to Cary, remember?” Audrey said. “He always loved taking care of people.”
Marilyn flipped to another page, and another, showing me Rhett through the years. His adorable grade-schooler phase. His awkward middle school years. The cute guy who began to emerge toward the end of high school. And alongside him, in many of the photos, were Cary and Audrey.
My heart warmed as I listened to their silly family stories—some about Rhett, some about the other kids, but all interconnected, as closely entwined as they all were. Being included in the warm bubble of family felt nice,reallynice. But also scary. Because this wasn’t my place, not yet. But I wanted it to be. I could imagine it so easily.
“So Rhett and Cary and Audrey,” I said. “Those names are all kind of old-fashioned.”
Cary snorted. “No kidding, and I got the worst of it. A boy named Cary.”
“Cary Grant was a man,” I said.
