Page 28 of Center of Gravity
And that was it. Which was even worse: total apathy.
I let myself out.
* * *
Tom had ralliedby the time I got back into the truck, my feet wading through empty sports drink bottles as I swung inside.
“Did you drink all these?” There had to be eight empties clogging the floorboards.
Tom straightened in the seat, angled the mirror, and checked himself out. “Yeah. I’m going to be pissing Gatorade for the next three days, but at least now I can open my mouth without worrying I’m going to hurl.”
I wrinkled up my nose at him and read off the next address. It was a straight junk haul which would be easy enough, even with a hangover.
“You actually embarrassed me last night with that dumbfuck question you asked Rob. And you know it takes a lot to embarrass me.”
Earlier in the summer, Tom had pantsed me when we were leaving, after moving a couple of upcoming juniors into a new apartment. In the middle of the sidewalk. I hadn’t been fazed, just hitched my pants back up from around my ankles, turned back, and waved to the girls. And their parents. The parents had called Franklin and we both got warned.
Tom ticked a look at me and I could tell he was trying to gauge how serious I was. I’d let it bounce off of me last night, but it’d aggravated me then and even more now that I was sober.
He lifted a brow. “He could have easily asked me back how I know I’m straight.”
“But he wouldn’t, because it’s just accepted and because it’s a stupid fucking question in the first place and because it’s none of his business. Asking him makes it sound like his sexuality is some sideshow curiosity to you, and I know you’re not that stupid. And you know I’d sit here and answer all the cock-sucking questions that pop into your mind if you reallywereinterested in how my sexuality works.”
“Fine. I was being a douche. I apologize. Can we just move on from the subject now?” He squirmed like he was uncomfortable. We’d never gotten in a real argument before.
I shrugged and we both left it alone. It was turning out to be a day of uncomfortable silences. Until I got home.
* * *
Lainey wasout in the front yard, a bunch of Barbie groupies surrounding her. She had a shoebox full of clothes next to her and was dressing and undressing them, arranging them at a little wooden table set I’d made her for Christmas.
I sprawled on the grass next to her and she passed me a pink-haired Barbie, humming contentedly.
“Which one is this? I forgot.”
“Fuchsia. She’s trouble.”
“Yeah? Stealing from the closets of other girls?”
“Mm-hmm. And their money.”
I grinned. “Oh yeah, she sounds like trouble all right.” I rolled onto my side to sit her down in one of the little chairs. “Are they having a dinner party, or what?” I used to spend more time playing with her when I was home from school, but I didn’t have a lot of chances to now.
“Yeah.” She finished dressing a blonde-haired doll with a star painted over her eye and sat her down next to my doll. “Mom says we may have to move into an apartment.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I unstuck my T-shirt from my chest and vented some air inside. “But if we do, apartments are really cool too, because it’s like a bunch of houses all squished together. You’d probably make some new friends.”
“I don’t need any new friends. I like the ones I have. I like this house.” She bit her lip and looked down. “It’s Dad’s fault. For getting sick.”
Fuck me. I was in no way prepared for the depth of this conversation, so I muddled through as best as I could. “It’s not his fault, I promise. And besides, you’ll probably live all over the place over the course of your life. Look at me. We lived in a totally different house until I was your age. Then this one. Then I lived in a dorm, and now I’m back here.”
“I like this house,” she said, unmoved by my attempt. “My room is just how I like it.”
Jesus, was this what Rob had felt like talking to me last night? I cringed at the thought.
After Dad retreatedto his room for the night, I went out to the garage and got the box of unpainted Civil War figurines Rob had given me a couple of days ago. He’d kept them and then decided he didn’t want them.
Dad hadAntiques Roadshowon when I came in with the box, which I set at my feet as I dropped into the chair next to his bed.