Page 13 of Severed Heart

“Yes. I’m Tobias.”

He sounds very French.

“Oh, well, I’m Tyler, and I just met Sean and Dom, and Sean told me you didn’t have ... uh, that your daddy isn’t here anymore to mow your yard, and my daddy said your yard was a, uh, needs to be mowed. So, I thought I would mow it for you. My daddy is overseas. He’s a Marine, and he’s deployed. Do you know what that means?”

He nods.

“Well, he says if you ever find someone that has a need you can fill, then you should fill it.”

Tobias smiles at me like he’s about to laugh. “Thank you, Tyler, but I can mow my own yard.”

“Oh. Okay. I didn’t know you were the man of the house.”

He nods. “I am.”

“Okay then. Well, I can go.” Feeling stupid, I start to push the mower back to my house.

“Tyler,” Tobias calls after me, and I look back at him. “I don’t have a mowerright now. Would it be okay if I borrowed yours?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say, letting off the gas and stepping away from it. “It’s a real good one. A John Deere. You ever heard of him?”

He glances at the mower. “No.”

“Well, it’s one of the best there is. It’s self-propld or somethin’. That means it pushes itself. You can try if you want. But don’t cut it off ’cause it’s really hard to start. K?”

He nods and smiles at me likeI’m the onethat talks French. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

Standing at the edge of the driveway, I watch Tobias mow his yard. A little while later, the front door opens, and Dom comes out with a cup of water. He walks over and holds it out to me.

“Thanks,” I tell him, drinking the whole glass. He still doesn’t talk, but he looks over and stares at me as he drops to sit on the driveway. After a bit, he scoots over to give me a spot to sit next to him. I take a seat, and we both watch Tobias mow for a while.

“Is it fun to have a brother?” I finally ask him. “Sometimes, I wish I had one. I got my cousin, Barrett, but he’s younger and a crybaby.”

Dom laughs and finally talks. “It’s okay. He tells me what to do—a lot.”

Dom doesn’t speak French like his brother, but I don’t ask him why. Maybe he’ll tell me that tonight, too.

Chapter Five

DELPHINE

US PRESIDENT: RONALD REAGAN | 1981–1989

ITAKE A PUFFof my cigarette as the woman watching me from the aisle seat across from mine finally speaks her mind. “You look too young to smoke.”

“You lookold,” I tell her, and her mouth drops open.

“How very rude,” she gasps.

“Yes”—I roll my eyes—“rudeforstrangerto make observations and speak them.” I blow my exhale her way, wishing I had gotten the window seat. An older man snores next to me, his head tilted away from the wasted view.

“Who are you traveling with? I wonder if they would approve of your behavior.” She eyes the wheezing man next to me. “Is that your father?”

I bark out a laugh as I smooth my hand down Celine’s dress and ash my cigarette, staring back at the woman. “My papa rots in the ground.”

“Oh,” she says, taken aback by the way I tell her this. I never understand why people are so polite about revealing the truth when it’s not pleasant. It’s as if people are hiding from real life, but some truths can never be pleasant, no matter how they’re worded or spoken. “And your mother?”