Page 25

NINETEEN

lorenzo

“Oh, there’s Ruby now,” my mom says happily from the kitchen window.

I take a sip of lukewarm coffee. My parents came home earlier than expected this morning, jolting me out of a dream about a boat and a bikini and a body that had to have been Ruby’s but I’d rather assume wasn’t.

It hit me last night while walking from her house to mine why I said we should never kiss; after the night she kissed me on the dock and told me she loved me, I knew there could never be any such thing as an innocent kiss between us. I have to remember that.

My mom hurries to open the door and sweeps Ruby into a hug. “Don’t knock, just come in!”

Ruby grins, catching my eye over Mom’s shoulder.

Her hair is swept back in a messy ponytail, and she’s thrown an old shirt of her dad’s over what I assume is the shorts and tank top she slept in.

Droplets of water cling to her hair, and something black, probably from cleaning the boat, is smudged against her bare thigh.

“Morning all. Sorry I’m a mess.” She closes the shirt over her chest, but not before I catch sight of several wet spots where the hose has turned her tank top sheer. I look at the table.

“Ruby!” My dad hugs her and pulls out a chair for her, settling her into it and placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. “What a great start to a Sunday.” He sits down and looks at me. “You two took the boat out yesterday?”

I look at Ruby. Our parents aren’t besties, but they’re longtime friends and neighbors. Mine know the relationship between Ruby and hers.

Ruby hesitates, then shrugs. Avoiding trouble has never been a motivating factor in her life. “Just for a bit. Nothing like Lake Foster in June to raise a man’s spirits, right?” She smiles at me, then looks to my parents.

My mom shares the smile. “We won’t say a word.”

We settle into “coffee chat,” as my parents call it, tedious talk about neighbors, kids we went to high school with, and everything else that makes Lakeside as boring as it is.

It wouldn’t take much for me to extricate us, but Ruby glows as she sits between my parents.

They want to know about her classes and her summer plans, and they don’t ask about her future.

Or mine. Actually, the mere fact that I survived surgery and am ambulatory seems to delight them.

Later, while my mom is showing Ruby some old recipe card, Dad and I step outside.

“You miss having a boat?” I eye the empty dock at the end of the yard. It’s a strange sight.

“Not yet, but we’ll see how I feel come Fourth of July. You and Ruby sticking around all day?”

“Probably just a couple more hours.”

“You know what would be great? What if we have a little mini reunion this afternoon? I’ll call your aunt and uncle. I’m sure some of your cousins are around.”

I swallow. “I don’t know. I have to ask when Ruby needs to be back.”

“It’ll just be lunch, not a big party or anything. We need to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Your surgery! Everyone was wringing their hands over it. We ought to get together and?—”

“Celebrate my surgery? Dad, come on.”

“Well, not the surgery per se, but your recovery. Here you are healing and getting ready for the fall season just like we all hoped. You know your uncle can’t wait to talk football with you.”

“I haven’t even been cleared to exercise. My season’s still totally up in the air.”

Mom and Ruby walk out, and Dad immediately summons my mom to his side. “Gina, I was just thinking we ought to have your sister and the family over for lunch. Lorenzo hasn’t seen everyone in so long, and wouldn’t they all want to catch up now he’s done with surgery?”

I say nothing.

“Well.” Mom glances at me. “I don’t see why not. If everyone’s available and the kids are up for it.”

Ruby’s following the conversation, her features slowly tightening. She takes in my expression quickly and looks at my dad. “Actually, Joe, I have to get home and finish an assignment for my summer class. I’m so sorry.” She looks apologetic.

“Oh,” Dad says, deflating.

“Totally fine,” my mom insists. “School is more important. We can plan something later this month. And, hey, we’ll have everyone here for my birthday in a few weeks!”

“Right. Good.” I blow out a breath. My mom’s is always the final word.

“Sure,” Dad says halfheartedly.

After an awkward silence, Ruby turns to me. “I’m gonna go give the cats their final dose.”

“You want help?” I ask, hoping she’ll catch the tone in my voice. But she’s already saved me once today. This time I’m on my own.

“I’ve got it.” She excuses herself and turns for her house.

Mom heads inside. When it’s just me and my dad, he turns to me.

“I know your cousin would like to see you.”

I look out at the lake. “Would he, Dad?”

He rocks back on his heels, following my gaze out toward the water.

I scrub a hand over my face. I don’t want to be like this. “So how’s he doing?”

The pause that follows is the real answer. “Doing okay. He’s got a job.”

“Doing what?”

“Stocking shelves. It’s steady work.”

“But how’s he doing, Dad? Come on.”

“From everything your aunt and uncle say, he’s been clean. We’re all proud of him.”

If I hadn’t known him all my life, I wouldn’t notice the quaver in his voice.

It catches me off guard to hear him getting emotional, and for some reason I feel guilty.

“Look, I want to see him. I called him on his birthday; he didn’t call back.

I text him. He usually doesn’t answer, and when he does, it’s clear he doesn’t want to. So what the fuck?”

My dad looks at his shoes.

“I want to see him. Just not at some family barbecue celebrating my football career.”

“Look, he has to get used to it,” Dad snaps, his voice solid again. “It’s reality.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He’s an adult now, and it’s time he started acting like it. You make your choices and you take the consequences that follow. And you seize on the good things in your life—unless you enjoy being miserable.”

“And if he enjoys being miserable, Dad?”

“That’s another choice.”

Maybe. But Anthony doesn’t have a whole lot of choices in his life, especially not good ones; those were all given to me.

“Thank you,” I tell Ruby once we’re in the car headed back to Shafer.

“For bailing you out? It’s what we do.” She flips down the visor and inspects herself in the mirror. “So when are you going to see Anthony?”

“I don’t know.”

“Might not be so awkward if it was just you and him.”

“You mean instead of the entire family gathering to ooh and aah over Lorenzo’s big shiny dreams coming true while my cousin’s stocking shelves?”

“That’s not what bothers you, I don’t think.”

“Oh, good. Psychoanalysis time?”

“I mean, why not?” She pushes the visor back up and turns to me.

“Can you just do that privately? In your head?”

“No, I want to know if I’m right.”

“You’re not.”

“Please?” She puts her palms together.

“Fine. What’s the diagnosis, Doc?”

“I think what bothers you is that you’re living Anthony’s dream. College football, probably a pro career.”

“Wrong. The NFL’s been my dream ever since I found out I had a shot at it.”

She gives me a long, silent look.

“It is. I’ve wanted it for a long time.”

“And what are you going to do when you get it? Are you gonna be happy? Are you finally gonna stop living the way you do?”

“Living how?”

“Trying to control everything and everyone to make sure nothing bad ever happens. Driving everyone nuts.”

“I’m trying to take responsibility for what I did so it never happens again. Isn’t that what growing up is?”

“You’re asking me? I still sleep with stuffed animals.”

Oh, now she’s trying to lighten the mood. “You realize needing surgery right before my senior season is the first thing that’s gone wrong in my life since the car accident? That’s four years of me getting what I want again and again.”

“You mean getting what you think Anthony wanted.”

“No,” I snap. “I mean ... yeah. We wanted the same things, and I got all of it.”

She shifts in her seat, looking at the road in front of us. “It’s not your fault his life has turned out the way it has.”

“Actually, it is. In some ways, it really is.”

“Maybe. But he would have found alcohol and weed and everything else without you. Just because you were the first to let him try it doesn’t make you responsible for everything that came after.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have found it. Or he’d have waited until he was older and had more sense.”

“Ant was never going to be an angel. He was trouble long before he tasted beer. You’re trying to make him faultless, but he never was.”

“He was just a kid.”

“So were you! You rewrite history, Lorenzo, and when you do, you hand him more excuses to treat you like shit.”

“I’d act the same way if the situation was reversed.”

“Would you? Doesn’t seem like you. You manage to love him even though he’s not perfect.”

“Nobody is.”

“Right. So maybe you can manage to forgive yourself even if you’re not faultless.”

“I’ll forgive myself when I’ve done what I need to do.”

“You mean when you’re in the pros and Anthony’s not? You think you’ll feel better then?”

I glare at the road. “You’re a hard-ass.”

“I’ve been spending too much time with you.”

I smile reluctantly. I always think of Ruby as flitting from one thing to the next, riding the constant highs and lows of her emotions, forever chaotic and messy. But it’s not always like that. When I’m the hothead, here she is keeping me steady. We take care of each other. We always have.

“We’re both the same,” she says. “Everything we do keeps us tied to this place, no matter how hard we try to get away. It just looks a lot better on you.”

Maybe it is that simple. People think it’s funny how different Ruby and I are, but really, they’re looking at only the symptoms. The disease is the same.

Almost every significant moment in my life, she was part of.

And the few she wasn’t, she knows because I have to tell her things only once before she sees them the same way they play out in my head.

When she turns toward the window, I look at her, and that’s when it hits me: This is what everyone wants.

I have someone who gets me, someone who has my back unconditionally. Someone who makes the shitty times fun. Someone who’s beautiful and wants me and is a great fucking kisser on top of it all. Maybe this is why I can’t keep my eyes off her lately. Because what if this is my girl right here?

What does it matter if the timing isn’t what I thought it would be? Here she is.

Maybe this is my girl.