“No? I didn’t know. I mean, no, I don’t know. What am I supposed to know?”
“The mortgage, Cory. Mom took out a double mortgage a few years ago, and she’s fallen behind. The bank is going to take the house.”
“Whose house?”
“Whose house? What, you think she’s crying over the Three fucking Bears’ house? Our house, you idiot. They’re taking our house.”
“I’m terrible with people,may well be a hypochondriac, and I can’t drive stick.” Is the first full sentence spoken between us since James kindly offered to drive me home. “This isn’t my car. I can’t drive stick because I never learned.” Becomes the second.
“What?”
“This is Faith’s. I drive a 1997 Honda that’s currently sitting in our garage after refusing to start for the third day in a row. Faith let me take this, and she’s going to use my dad’s car that I can’t drive because–”
“Because you can’t drive stick.”
“Exactly.” Raising my gaze from the immaculately clean floor, I shift in my seat to face James and find him studying me earnestly. “The business I was training in, that I had just invested in and was planning to take over, went broke. There were some …. many … accusations against the owner. I wasn’t aware of any of them until it was too late and I lost everything.”
I try and fail to return the compassion in James’s expression. “That still doesn’t explain the friends thing. Or why you can’t drive stick.”
With a wink, he taps against his temple. “Or maybe it does.”
Agitation itches under my skin, not because he’s implying he’s dumb when clearly he’s not, but because of the conversation we had in his office. “So what you told me about your brother and your apartment, that was a lie?” He shakes his head, a forced smile curving his lips.
“No. Two things can be true at the same time. It’s a long story, but the condensed version is that within a year, I lost my partner, my job, then my dad who was not only an incredible man, but the carer of his son, my brother, Dylan. It’s been a shit time, and I’m not trying to say my life is worse than yours, rather that there’s no shame in having money troubles. Particularly when they’ve come about through no fault of your own. Occasionally even when they are.”
Hyperaware that James, who rarely speaks of anything at practice outside that of his role, has opened the door here, allowing me a tiny peek inside. I know I should leave it at that. But the same curiosity that killed the cat seems determined to finish me off, too. “Why does your brother need a carer? Is he sick?”
“No, he’s not sick. He has a significant intellectual disability, and profound autism. He used to attend an amazing day program four days a week, but when Dad died we lost insurance coverage, and we’ve been fighting red tape to get it back. Since Faith earns a ridiculous amount more than me, she works full-time and I’m home with Dyl the days we can’t afford any outside support.”
“Oh.”God I am such an asshole.I have no idea what to say so I go for the first thing that pops into my head. “I’ve blocked everyone I’ve ever hooked up with on the apps. My loser dad, who could be dead for all I know, used to tell Mom he was taking me to the rink for peewee hockey, but he’d actually leave me in the car while he visited hisgirlfriends.When Mom confronted him, he didn’t even bother excusing his cheating, instead he focused on me and said it didn’t make a difference if he took me to the rink or not because midgets, who can’t see the puck, can’t play hockey.”
“Shit, kid.”
I’m not a kid.I think to myself before allowing the word vomit to run again. “They didn’t know I could hear them, but I could obviously, and from that day on I swore I would make it to the NHL.”
“And you did.” We pull up at my house with its faded paint and crooked screen door. After putting the car into park, James takes it in, then turns to me with a grin that twitches his mustache and lights his whole face. He looks so much younger when he smiles. He really is beautiful.
“Yeah.” I huff. “But at what cost?”
It’s Saturday morning, I’ve got a coffee in my hand, I’ve had a full night’s sleep, and I’m on my way to pick up Maria, Sue and Dylan,who’s apparently been awake since five a.m.
Despite the fact that we’re heading to an activity designed for them, I am the one freaking out. Not only because I’ll be doing something I haven’t done in years, but because of certain conversations in the dark.
The defeated frame of Cory Malkovich version number four has occupied an abnormal space in my mind since somberly climbing out of my car, and moping through that wonky front door.
Over the years, I’ve listened to more than enough of my sister’s psychoanalytical blabbering for me to consider myself a quasi-expert, but any idiot could recognize why the kid changes personas like I do socks. He’s so desperate for approval, so keen to prove his dad wrong, and his mom right, mean-spirited teasing or lighthearted chirps about his height or glasses are taken in the same manner. They all hurt. They all twist the dagger that one of the people, who is supposed to love him the most, inserted.
All in all, I’ve a feeling that our conversation got us closer to the core of each other than anyone outside our immediate family has been for a very, very long time. I’m yet to decide if that’s a good thing or not. Nor do I have time to do so, because when I pull up to the curb in front of our place, four smiling faces are eager, ready and waiting to go.
“We don’t have to be there for an hour.” I remind Faith, who’s too busy helping Dylan into the back to answer. Sue and Maria climb in beside him, then Faith joins me up front.
“I know we don’t have to be there for an hour?—”
“Just said that.”
“But the guys are ready, and Sue and I figured that’s a good thing, because they can take the time to explore, make themselves comfortable and you know, explore. I think that’s imperative. Do you? I do … Do you?”
Pressing my lips together to stop my smile, I place my hand on Faith’s and give it a squeeze. “Faithy, Sweetheart. Are you nervous by any chance?”
