Page 10 of Perfect Tragedy
“Hey Si,” he says shortening my name which he’s done for years. “Are you busy right now?”
“Uh, no, not really. Why? What do you and Jack want?” Usually when one of them calls me it’s because they want me to come keep count of their weight reps or something stupid like that. If I didn’t enjoy watching Blake’s muscles bulge when he lifted I would find it annoying - I’m sure of it.
“It’s just me, actually. That needs something I mean,” he says and he sounds nervous which makes my stomach clench. This isn’t like him.
“Okay…”
“I was wondering if you would come to the store with me? I could really use your help with something.”
“Okay, sure. I can help you,” I tell him automatically.
“Yeah? You sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m sure.”
“Sweet. I’ll swing by in five. That enough time?”
“Yeah. Yes. Of course. Fine. I’ll be ready.” Could I sound anymore stupid? You would think I haven’t ever spoken to him or hung around him for years.
“Okay, be there soon.”
“Okay,” I say again and hang up.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, then immediately standing up again, I wonder what in the world he needs my help with? He’s never asked me to go to the store with him before. I mean, sure he’s taken me for ice cream or given me a ride here or there, but this… something about this feels different.
Realizing I’m wasting time, I look down at myself and gasp. Seeing a small spill on my shirt from breakfast, I strip it off and throw it across the room in the direction of the laundry basket before turning to my closet. Moving hanger after hanger to the side dismissing each shirt I see, my eyes finally land on one of my favorite blue shirts with a cute floral pattern that has straps that cross in the front. It will look fine with the jeans I’ve already got on.
Pulling it over my head quickly, I shove my feet into some silver flats then grab a sweater just in case. It’s mid-February and while the winter has been mild, it can change on a dime so it’s best to be prepared.
Ducking into the jack-and-jill style bathroom that I share with Jack who’s bedroom is on the other side, I lock his side of the door so he doesn’t come in while I make sure my hair is tame and straighten any out-of-place hairs, then grab some lip gloss from the drawer and swipe it across my lips. I grab my cream blush and dab a little color onto my cheeks being careful to keep it natural. I don’t want it to look like I tried too hard.
Happy with the result, I unlock Jack’s door, leave the bathroom, grab my phone and head to the living room where I immediately look out the window to see if Blake has arrived yet.
My mom looks up from her computer, “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah, Blake is picking me up.” Her right brow raises in curiosity. I’m sure its because I only said Blake’s name and not Blake and Jack. “He said he needs my help with something at the store,” I shrug.
She nods, “Bring your phone,” she instructs. Holding it up in my hand so she can see I’ve already got it, she nods. “Be back within a couple hours for dinner, alright?”
“Okay, I will.”
“And tell Blake he can eat with us if he’d like. He hasn’t been over for a little while.”
We give each other a look and I nod, knowing exactly what she’s thinking. The past few years Blake’s mom has… changed. Blake’s dad walked out on his family and ever since then his mom hasn’t been the same. She’s developed an unhealthy relationship with alcohol and there’s been a few "episodes” that have happened in town. They’ve been so bad that various business owners in town have had to call Blake to ask him to come and remove his mother - so of course that means the whole town knows. Word travels fast in a small town like ours.
I can’t imagine how hard it has to be on Blake and his sister. I’ve overheard Jack talking to our parents about it, but they usually found me snooping and I wasn’t privy to much of the conversation. I’ve still heard the things people have whispered about at school though, never daring to say anything to his face. It’s sad and I know it’s taking a toll on him. He’s extremely somber at times; stressed. At times he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Doing my best, I try to shake the thoughts from my mind. I don’t want to be transparent or somber when Blake picks me up. He has a sixth sense for when something is bothering me and it’s weird he can be so intuitive about some things and completely clueless about others.
Checking outside once more, I see his old red pickup truck pulling up into our driveway.
“He’s here. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” my mom says absently, her attention back to whatever she’s looking at on her computer. “Seatbelt,” she calls out as an afterthought.
“Always,” I reply as I close the front door behind me.
Blake’s just closed the door to his truck when he catches sight of me, “Hey,” he smiles, “I was just on my way to the door.”
