Fucking Gould?
I get up and grab the white grandad T hanging over the back of my chair. I pull it over my head, push up my sleeves and drag my fingers through my hair. I give myself a spritz of cologne and I’m good to go.
“Are…I thought you said you weren’t coming?”
“You’re fucking insane if you think I’m going to let Gould anywherenearyou dressed like that.”
He laughs, but tries not to, so it comes out through his nose in a dry snort. “So, does that mean you like it?”
I take a long stride towards him, standing too close, crowding him on purpose, struggling to get back to a place where he’s the one looking at me with doe eyes.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I like it. I like it a lot.”
We head out to the street to wait for Chase, shouting goodbyes to our parents as we walk down the path along the side of the house. We stand on the lawn and look down the street. It’s quiet and dark. I look back at the house. It looks different than it did when I first got here and stood in this very spot. The lights are on, making the whole place glow warmly. My dad is packing the dishwasher and Rachel is standing to the side watching him. He must be talking because now and again her chin dips down and little lines at the corners of her eyes crease and fan out. I haven’t seen the house from here at this time of night before but that’s not why it looks different. It looks familiar now. I know how it smells and feels inside. It looks like the kind of place it doesn’t feel crazy to call home.
“Jess, I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you should know.”
The streetlight hits the side of his face, casting shadows in his eyes that highlight the concern in them. I feel bad about the way I reacted. The way I overreacted. Obviously he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He didn’t do anything wrong.
“It’s fine. It wasn’t your fault. I just, like, I just really can’t handle it when people say bad things about my mom. I don’t know why, it’s a trigger for me or something.”
“I get it.” He’s quiet and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s considering what I said, or if it’s because he’s moved on from the subject. I could tell if I looked at him, but I don’t want to right now. “Do you only feel that way about your mom, or your dad, too?”
What?
“Well, Luke, I don’t love it when people talk shit about my dad either. Obviously not. I mean, who would? But…I guess the rage, trigger-y thing only really happens with my mom.”
He’s quiet again. I can feel the cogs of his mind spin beside me. They move fast and then they come to a stop. I hope to fuck that the end of it.
He’s Luke, so it isn’t.
“Why do you think that is?”
I feel myself launch into a familiar reaction; a burst of heat, a quick escalation and a complete inability to control my response.
“Because, when people say bad shit about my mom,” I spit, “I know it’s true.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
What the fuck is up with today and the truth bombs detonating around me.
He slides his hand into mine and squeezes hard. The thick flesh of his palm melds with mine, making it buzz with a warmth that radiates up my arm.
“Let go of my hand!” I whisper, even though our parents are well out of earshot.
“No,” he says simply.
“They’ll see!”
“They’ve gone to the media room, they can’t see us.”
“Well, Chase is on his way.He’llsee.”
There’s an urgency in my voice that seems reasonable and justified. What doesn’t seem at all reasonable or justified is the fact that despite the strength of my objection, I’m not making the slightest effort to pull my hand from his. In fact, I’m holding on just as tightly as he is. I don’t let go until I see the headlights of Chase’s car rounding the bend to our street.
“Classic Gould!” he says by way of greeting, throwing the front passenger door open for Luke. “I went all the way to his house only to find he wasn’t ready. Hadn’t even showered yet, and you know what he’s like. Told him I’d double back but if he’s not ready when I get there, I’m leaving him. Seriously. I mean it this time.”
Luke makes a series of sympathetic sounds, and we head back to Gould’s place for a second attempt at picking him up.
