He answered on the third ring. “Bodhi? What do you want?”
Curiosity replaced the venom that had laced his words during our last conversation. I took that as a sign.
Infusing cheer in my tone, I replied, “Today is the day, Evan.”
One beat. Two.
Come on, little brother.
“For what?”
I smiled, relief washing over me like cool rain. “For you to matter. I’m your Eddie.”
26
Breeze: The Higher Ground
“Are you sure you’ll be all right to go today?” Mom asked, joining me in the bathroom as I finished curling my hair. “Under the circumstances, maybe it would be best if you stayed home.”
I couldn’t blame her for giving me the out, considering what she’d witnessed.
Thursday was ‘sob’ day, featuring big, nose-stuffing episodes interrupted only by periods of rest when I’d replenish my reserves in order to continue on with a fresh torrent of tears when I woke. Just to up the misery ante, I watched every weepy dog movie I could possibly stand—death after doggie death.
Sobbing was the rule of order in the Cassidy-Bening household and I was its crown princess.
Not to be outdone, Friday was ‘fuck day’… and not in the super fun, tangled in the sheets kind of way. No, Friday was the day the f-word was used as a sentence enhancer. Verbs, adjectives, nouns, and yes, I think maybe even adverbs, although I wasn’t a hundred percent certain what they were. Since breaking it off with Bodhi, I was becoming quite the skilled linguist if you liked your communication on the offensive side.
Scrutinizing myself in the mirror, I was comforted by my righteous hair, but the rest of me was going to require some extensive retooling. Red, puffy eyes, bloated cheeks, and the nastiest little smirk a day of f-bombs could produce. Brandon would not be impressed.
Brandon.
Why the hell did I even care what he thought? It wasn’t like I still had a thing for him. But my need to demonstrate to my ex that I was doing fantastic was strong. Was I trying to prove my worth to him or to myself? I wasn’t some spinster. Hell, I’d just reeled in a big-time hottie—a popstar with a rock star voice. Granted, it would have been more impressive had I actually gotten him into the boat. But that wasn’t how I rolled. Oh no, this girl threw her perfectly fantastic catch back in the flippin’ ocean.
Wait, why in the hell did I do that again? What was my reasoning?
Oh yeah, because I was dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
“You look a little constipated, sweetie,” mom noted as she fluffed up my curls in the back.
And I had to smile, because she knew just how to put the sweetest spin on average, everyday insults.
“Thanks for noticing. I was thinking about Brandon.”
“Oh, well that explains it then. That man should come with a warning label and a box of laxatives.”
No disagreement here.
“Okay, how’s this?” Meeting her gaze in the mirror, I pinned on a smile. “Do I still look like I’m straining to have a bowel movement?”
“Well, I mean, now you just look like a sad clown going potty.”
Laughing, I bumped her with my hip, knocking her off balance.
“There she is.” Mom grabbed my cheeks and shook my face like I was a seven-year-old. “My happy, gorgeous girl.”
“I’m getting there. Sorry about the past two days.”
“Eh, no apologies needed. I actually learned quite a few new swear words, so thank you.”
