Evan and I finish sorting the photographs, laughing about our hairstyles or clothes or the poses we pulled, thinking we were cool. I leave Evan to put them in the right albums and go out to help Theresa with the dishes.
She smiles when she sees me, looking less tired than the lasttime I saw her.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, running a hand through my hair.
“Me, too.”
She starts washing the dishes and I pick the towel up and stand beside her while she hands me the clean plates to dry.
“Thank you,” she says.
“No problem.”
“I don’t mean for this. I mean for what you’ve done for him.”
I swallow. “Theresa, there’s something you should know.”
“What is it?”
“It was my fault, back then. The car thing. Evan was just trying to help me, he didn’t steal that car.”
Her hands pause in the soapy water and my blood runs cold while I imagine her throwing me out. Was I wrong to tell her? I’ve told Evan so many times I want to, but he wouldn’t let me.
“I didn’t say anything, but my stepdad and the lawyer were trying to protect me. I swear, if I could go back and change it I….”
She takes her hands out of the water and dries them on a dish towel before putting them on my face. “You were a kid. He protected you. Did you see how many of those family photos you were in? You’re a part of this family, too. Just don’t go getting into any more trouble, do you hear?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, Ma.”
She ruffles my hair before turning back to the dishes. “Anyway, you’ve more than made up for it now. Getting him away from those losers. You know I saw a few of them picking litter up on the sidewalk the other day. Community service I guess.”
I snort. When I glance sideways at her, she looks years younger than she did when I first saw her again at the funeral.
When we head backinto the living room, Evan and Stacie are laughing at a picture of her dressed in a Santa Claus outfit their dad took from the dancing Santa doll they used to display in the window.
“This is child abuse!” she wails.
Evan looks up with a smile and catches my eye. “Hey Stace, let me steal Nate for a minute, k?” She sighs dramatically, like she’s bothered, but she goes back to sorting the pictures.
He takes me upstairs by the hand, closing the door behind us.
“You know we can’t have sex with your mom and Stacie downstairs.”
“Such a dirty mind,” he tuts, shaking his head. “I wanted to show you something.”
He reaches to the back of the old bookcase and takes a couple of DVD cases out, opening one. When he gets closer, I see that it’s the case forGTA: Vice City.I thought maybe he’d lost this one, because every time I come over, we playSan Andreas.Or I playNHL 09with Stacie and laugh at the terrible graphics while getting my ass handed to me by a thirteen-year old.
“Oh cool, you found it.”
“Smell it.”
He sticks it under my nose and I wince. “Gah, that stinks of weed.”
“This is where I kept mystash.”
“Okay?”
“It’s empty. I’m not doing that shit anymore.”
