Page 26 of Fade into You
She stares me down for a moment and then redirects her attention to the phone. “Garrett, can you hold on? I’m getting anothercall.” She clicks over and says, cheerful as ever, “Hell-o-oo? Oh hey, Charlie.”
“I need to talk to him,” I tell her.
“Yeah, she’s right here, but I’m on the other line. Can she call you back?”
“Ineedto talk to him!” I repeat, louder.
“Okay, cool,” she says, completely ignoring me. “Yeah, okay. You too. Bye.”
“Liv, that was important!”
“Oh my god, chill. You can call him when I’m off the phone. Yeah, I’m back, babe. No, it’s just Birdie freaking out—over nothing—as usual.” She looks at me, smirking while I hear Mouth Breather’s dumbass deep jock voice saying something indecipherable. Then she laughs.
“Fine,” I say, and grab my notebook.
Downstairs one of the twins is standing up in the playpen in the center of the living room, happily screaming, while the other is rolling around, unhappily screaming.
“Who’s on the phone?” Mom says to no one in particular, sitting at the computer with her back to me. “I’m trying to get online,” she yells. “Birdie?”
“Mom, I’m right here.”
She turns around and looks at me. “Oh, sorry. Is Liv on the phone?”
“Who else would be?”
“Bailey’s teacher insists on emailing the parents. So ridiculous. It’s third grade, not med school,” she mutters, turning back to the screen. “Will you tell her to get off the phone?”
“I already tried. She wouldn’t get off a minute ago for Charlie, and I really needed to talk to him,” I accidentally say.
“Why do you really need to talk to your brother?” she asks, spinning in the office chair to face me again. “Something going on?”
“No,” I lie. “No, I just—no, it’s just, I haven’t t-talked to him since his semester started. And he said he might call tonight, that’s all.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding like that makes sense. “Hey, sweetheart, can you do me a favor and get the twins ready for bed while I try to get online here? Please,” she adds, trying her best to give me a smile even if it doesn’t quite reach her exhausted eyes.
The twins were an accident—a “happy” accident, Mom and Daniel like to say. Meaning, they weren’t planning on having two babies in their forties, just when they thought life was slowing down, with Bailey starting school and Charlie going off to college. But, as they said when they told us Mom was pregnant, withtwinsno less, “Life had other plans.”
It’s dark outside by the time I finish putting them to bed, after only three bedtime stories. I try to call Charlie back, but it’s just a phone in the middle of the hallway that’s shared by everyone on his floor. Some guy answers and when I ask for Charlie, he says, “Yeah, baby, I’ll get Charlie. But first, you have to tell me what you’re wearing.”
“I’m hissister.”
“You’re notmysister,” he snorts. “Your voice sounds hot. Come on, tell me. What color are your panties? You evenwearingpanties?”
“Can you just get him, please?”
“Only if you say ‘please’ again.”
I don’t know why I do, but I do. And then he starts moaning and faking sex noises. I can hear a bunch of guys laughing and hooting in the background as I hang up. For a second I think about dialing back, and if that same stupid frat boy answers again, maybe I’d just tell him what he wants to hear. Not the truth. Which is that I’m wearing plain old purple cotton underwear and a sports bra under my plaid shorts, complete with a holey Counting Crows T-shirt from that concert Charlie took me to two summers ago.
No, you’re not doing that,I tell myself. I don’t care how badly I need to talk to my brother; I have to retain some degree of self-respect. I sit at the kitchen table, notebook open in front of me. Quiet envelops me for the first time all weekend long. I take the pencil from behind my ear and write:
Ode to a Frat Boy
Then I erase it and write over it:
Ode to Crying Toddlers
I erase that, too.
