“Wait. Back up. My Aunt Dawn’s brain exploded?”
“Yeah, man. You know, like a pipe burst… but in her head.”
“An aneurysm?”
Allen snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”
I shook my head. “My god, you do not know how to deliver bad news.”
“I didn’t know you two were close.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly braiding friendship bracelets with Aunt Dawn, but she was still family. When did this happen?”
“Sunday. Funeral’s this weekend.”
I nodded slowly, eyes on my soda. The longer I sat with it, the more pissed I got. Not about her dying, but that nobody had bothered to tell me. What—were they afraid I’d actually show up? I got that they didn’t approve of my life, but I figured they’d eventually get over it because what’s done is done. Apparently they hadn’t.
“Good for them,” I muttered, and then under my breath, “That’s some Hall of Fame pettiness right there.”
Allen studied me. “You’re not gonna—”
“Nope.” I set the can down harder than necessary and changed the subject. “Let’s go over the set list for tonight.”
“We only haveeight songs.”
“Allen, just… shut up.”
His brows shot up, unaccustomed to me being snappy. We’d been friends since childhood—grown up three houses apart—and Allen had always known me as the guy without a care in the world. Easy-going. Full of one-liners. And thatwasme… but it wasn’t everything. There were things he didn’t know, things that predated my move to the neighborhood and necessitated masking my pain with humor.
But those were things better left unsaid.
“Sorry,” I said, “it’s not your fault you can’t read social cues.”
“No,” he laughed, rescuing the conversation. “It’s not my fault.”
A rustling in the kitchen caught our attention.
“Oh, shit,” Allen said, pulling his feet up onto the loveseat. “Is it sundown already?”
“That’s not a requirement anymore. He’s altered his internal clock to match mine.”
“How thoughtful,” Allen said, curling his arms around his legs for extra protection.
“Relax.” I reached a hand out to welcome my pet opossum as he waddled out, whiskers twitching in greeting. “He’s harmless. Aren’t you, Zonk?”
Zonk’s snout bonked into my hand in greeting.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Allen replied, still emotionally scarred from the time a horny, clicking Zonk had tried to mount his leg.
“That was only one time.” I waved off his concern. “And can you blame him? You’ve got soft features.”
“Well, then you must be a nightly treat for him,” Allen slapped back, scooting up further on the loveseat to escape Zonk. “Only you would find a wild animal living in your walls and befriend it.”
“He was here before I was,” I explained. “And he was still a baby. What was I supposed to do—throw him out?”
“Yes, McKallister. That’s exactly what you do… because it’s a wild animal. You don’t let him move in and share your bed.”
“He sleeps in a shoebox next to my bed,” I corrected. Though, since my bed was just a mattress on the floor, technically, he was right there beside me. “Who’s a good boy?” I scratched his long snout.
