“You ain’t gotta say it,” I say. I think he wants to say it, though. He’s just scared, same as me. Probably for the same damn reason as me, and all. Scared of what this might mean for us. Scared of what it might mean for the sense of belonging he’s finally found, here with me and The Core Four. He don’t want to label it, because if he does, it makes it real, and if it’s real, it means it can end, and then where will he be? I know it’s something he struggles with, because it’s something I struggle with too. I’d be nothing without Bubba, and now, I’d be even less without Ezra. They’re two halves of my heart, and if this goes belly-up, Bubba ain’t going to be able to pick between us. We’ll all end up alone. Bubba’s got Jaden. I’ve got Dunsberry. Ezra—my sweet, sweet boy—ain’t got anyone but Austin.
“It’s okay,” Momma says, soothing Ezra. “She said you might not be ready to talk about it. You take all the time you need. She also says there’s a piece of paper I need to find. Something that’s been hidden from you all your life. I have to find it, otherwise, she’ll never be able to rest.”
“Rest?” Ezra asks, and he has this panicked look on her face. “As in, leave? She’s not going anywhere, is she?”
Mom shrugs, but she’s giving him this real sympathetic look, like she knows how scared he is, and she wants to put him at ease. “She never mentioned anything about leaving, just that she’s really tired, sugar. Don’t worry your pretty little head. She promised everything is going to be okay.” With a nod, she turns and smiles at me, and I get the strange feeling Barbara may have told Momma more than she’s willing to admit. The strange thing is, I kind of wish Barbaradid, because if she’s explained it already, I won’t have to do the whole men-can-love-other-men song and dance all over again. Momma’s got the same far-away look in her eyes Ezra gets sometimes. “Yeah, Barb. I know. You don’t have to keep beating a dead horse.”
“It’s so cool that I’m not the only one who can hear her tacky ass.”
Momma nods. “She’s a handful, I’ll give you that.” She scowls. “Yes, Barb. Shut up about it already. I’ve got it covered.” Suddenly, Momma reaches for Ezra’s cheek and gives it a pinch. “She sent me here to help you. I’m going to get you all sorted. We can talk more in the morning. I think I may need to lie down. The trip took everything out of me.”
“You slept the whole way,” Pete argues.
“And I’m going to sleep some more. Do you have a problem with that?” she asks. Pete sighs and shakes his head. “That’s what I thought.” Looking back at me, she frowns. “I didn’t even think to ask if you have room for us to spend the night.”
I roll my eyes. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Of course there’s room. There’s always room for family. Just ask Jaden. The sassy little guy walked in and laid claim to the place.
“The sofa pulls out,” Ezra says. “I don’t, but the sofa does.”
“Jesus, Ezra,” I say, choking on air.
“Oh, please. She doesn’t know what I meant. She’s like Polly-fucking-anna, all innocence and doe-eyed optimism.”
“I’ll grab some sheets and a blanket,” Bubba says, his cheeks flushed red.
Momma chuckles to herself. “The sofa sounds fine, baby. Mighty fine. I’m just going to go change into my nightgown. Johnny, baby, would you mind setting the sofa up for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She walks toward the archway leading into the hall and pauses, looking back at Ezra. “And you may want to reconsider your stanceon pulling out of hard situations. Johnny’s daddy didn’t like to pull out, either.” She winks at him. “Being barefoot and pregnant at twenty isn’t an easy path.” She leans in and kisses Ezra’s forehead. “Barbara says that’s from her. She said it’s very important you know it’s from her. I’m going to go get a sip of water before bed.” Leaving Ezra with a gaping mouth, she leaves the room. Pete stands, bringing Jaden along for the ride.
“I think it’s time we tuck you in, little man,” Pete says to Jaden. “I could tell you a bedtime story if you want.”
Once Pete carries Jaden to bed, it’s just Ezra and me in the living room. He stands from the sofa and moves one of the seat cushions on top of our quilt box by the window.
“Johnny?”
“Yeah?” I grab the cushion nearest me and place it on top of the one Ez just moved. He doesn’t respond, so I look over at him, and when I do, he’s staring at me with wide, nervous eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. At least, I don’t think it is. You might think so, but, well, you know.”
“But what?”
He swallows. “Barbara never lies.”
“What do you mean?”
He doesn’t say anything. He takes my hand and squeezes. It’s like in that video Ezra makes me watch sometimes of the lady with the stretched-back face, yammering on about how when her eyes connect with the audience at her shows, there’s a connection. Faye Runaway or some shit, I think. Faye is right. It really is thrilling. When Ezra watches the video, he always beams like a maniac as Faye Runaway tells someone to get the fuck out of her eyeline, but I don’t want him out of mine. I think I want him in my eyeline forever.
I furrow my brow, because he still ain’t answering. “Ezra, I asked you a question. What do you mean?”
He bites his bottom lip like he’s considering his next move. Whatever flicker of a flame may have been burning in his eyes finally fizzles out, and my sweet boy shrugs, grabbing the final cushion off the sofa. “Nothing. I’ll tell you later.”
“You know I hate when you do that.”
“And you know I hate when you eat acidic foods before bed, because it makes you gassy and nasty, but you don’t see me complaining.” There’s no real heft to his voice, and it’s almost like he’s putting on an act, trying to distract me from something. Fine. If that’s what Ezra needs, he’s got it.
“I like lemons. I ain’t gonna fuckin’ apologize for it, bro.”
