Page 21 of The Story of You
“I think this is gonna help overall. It won’t be easy—nothing worthwhile is.”
He laughs. “Suddenly your love for Darry makes sense.”
I smile. He ain’t easy that’s for sure. I can’t talk yet though—I’m too hungry and Lak’s curry is too fucking delicious. I wolf it down while he eats his with genteel Randall manners. I must look like an animal to the poor kid.
“I think it’s good too. I like understanding them. It makes it easier to let things go. Like when Darius drinks himself into a coma. Not saying it makes it better, but when I was younger … I dunno, I thought Darry couldn’t stand us. I haven’t read much yet, but I’m already starting to see why—it helps him escape what he can’t deal with.”
I place a hand over one of the kid’s. “No one on the planet loves you more than those two, baby eagle bird. ‘Cept maybe Julius. Where is he by the way?”
His eyes flicker to his plate then back to mine. “Work.”
I’d like to stop eating to say something about that, but this stuff is as addictive as crack. Instead, I use my eyes to say,Yah, fuckin’ right.
“He’s been gone longer than he should have been gone and … well maybe things went late? But I can’t shake the feeling something else is going on.”
I swallow. “That can’t be good for his health. Won’t Silas kill him?” I might even knock him around for a bit.
Oliver rolls his eyes. “Odds are, Silas was involved. Besides, he won’t have to worry about Silas. He’ll be answering to me first.”
That look in his eyes. An icy one. The kid might be naïve, but the apple didn’t fall far from the Randall tree.
“You plannin’ on reading anymore?”
“I wanted to … you gonna be around?”
“I’ll be around.”
ChapterSeven
Silas – August 1984 – December 1984
Mother’s healing plateaued. She was better than she had been, but she was never the same as before. She required long bouts of rest. “I’m sorry, Silas,” she said daily. “I don’t think I can do much today; do you mind?”
What that meant was,do you mind looking after Oliver today?
She didn’t need to ask. Oliver was more mine than hers by that point. He was just over four months and could hold his head up well. He could turn his head and search for people and whom he wanted (especially when he was fussy) was me. It made Mama sad. He’d lie on his belly and laugh when I did anything. He found me hilarious for no reason I could fathom. I assumed that it was what babies did. I didn’t know much about babies. I was learning on the job with Oliver—probably like most first-time parents.
“It’s okay, Mama. I don’t mind. I love looking after him.” I did. I was too attached to him to give him back to her completely. But I was still fifteen and I had teen thoughts. There was a boy I liked who came to the swimming hole. I wanted to take him out. In the least make out with him properly. I had hoped Mother would get well enough to take Oliver for a night—after all, every parent gets a night off now and then—instead, I had to steal a few kisses from him while Oliver slept in the shade.
I thought about asking Father for a night to myself. But when would that be? When he came home, he looked after Mother. How could I ask him to look after a baby at the same time? Especially one he didn’t seem that fond of. He’d warmed up to Oliver but hadn’t fallen in love with him yet.
And yes, Father had no problem leaving me with a baby, a Darius, and a sick mother but I knew he couldn’t handle all that. Plus, I didn’t trust him alone with Oliver. I had no logical reason not to, just the loud whispers in my gut telling meneverto do that.
I ended up doing what any teen would do, I went over to his place and brought Oliver with me. His name was Cliff. He was tall with sandy blond hair. He liked to surf. He was always tanned and had long feet with big toes that were proportionally too large when compared to the rest of his toes.
His lips were soft, and I loved pressing mine against his. He always smelled fresh and clean. I liked the casual way he carried himself. He didn’t mind me toting Oliver everywhere. Oliver slept on a pillow in a laundry basket while we fondled each other on the couch. Both his parents worked, and they were quintessential latch-key kids. He had an older sister that was always off with her boyfriend. We gave each other hand jobs but we also did things like dream about the future and massage each other’s feet.
Even though Mama’s health had leveled off, things were good—overall—approaching the new school year.
No one had said anything, so I assumed I’d be returning to school. I wasn’t sure what the plan was and even though I knew Father’s insistence that only I would look after him, Mother was still participating. I kinda hoped there was a live-in nanny in our future. At least for while I went to school. I knew I wasn’t going to like being separated from Oliver, but I accepted it as something I would need to do if I wanted to be a surgeon one day.
At dinner one night, Darius spoke of his intricate plans for the school year and that’s when Father gave me the big news like he was doing nothing more than relaying the weather. “I’ve made arrangements for you, Silas,” he said. “I have to work, and your mother needs you. You’ll do the homeschool thing so you can stay home and help.” He took a bite of his steak, the one I’d marinated and cooked on the barbeque with a baby on my hip for him.
My heart pounded. I was devastated and then guilty for feeling devastated. Mama noticed the heartbreak on my face even though I hadn’t said anything. “Oh honey,” she said to Father. “Maybe it’s time I take over. If I just buckled down and did it, maybe I could? Or maybe we could get a nanny?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve told Silas, he’s here to help you until you no longer need help, didn’t I?”
He had. “Yes, sir. It’s fine, Mama. I want to help.” But I couldn’t force any authenticity into my tone. I wanted to look after them both, but I was worried I wouldn’t get into med school if I did.
