Thank Your Lucky Stars
Jordan
‘Two weeks.’ I dust my gloved hands on my jeans, squinting up at Genny with a smile. ‘You know the drill, Miss Cowgirl.’
‘Dunno, just like hearing it from the expert,’ she quips, the corner of her mouth quirking up. ‘I really appreciate this, Jordan. The town’s going to love it.’
‘Now that,’ I laugh, ‘will take a year, you know.’
‘Good excuse to get you back here!’ Genny continues. She shakes her head with a laugh. ‘Although I think my brother will find any excuse to get you back here.’
I’m not so sure about that bit, given that I haven’t heard from Rod since Wednesday, and it’s now Friday morning. We were meant to go out for a breakfast on Thursday, before all the team dinner chaos tonight, which he cancelled on after the practicegame. Since then, it’s been radio silence, and part of me thinks that’s what he wants right now. I just struggle to understand exactly why. I have theories – Charlotte being at the top of that list – but I’m no snoop, and I’m certainly not about to push someone who needs his space.
‘How is he?’ I stand up beside the newest row of lavender we’ve planted, this one much bigger than the garden at Rebecca’s. Genny and I took it upon ourselves to make this a group task (with a built-in mimosa break), and it’s about as large as the patch we have back home in Eagle Rock. I even got her a stretch of it in full bloom that we transplanted together, just to add some aesthetic to the whole thing. It’ll net her a nice crop, one that she can sell to make a little extra, and please the Whittaker locals while she’s at it. No one can say no to lavender.
‘Well …’ Genny grabs the gardening bag. ‘It’s gonna take another mimosa or two for me to get into that. Rotted in his house all day yesterday. I think he feels overwhelmed. I wish I knew why.’
An unconscious sigh escapes me. ‘Is he taking his meds?’
She nods. ‘Far as I saw yesterday, yeah. But he hasn’t been like this in a really long time, and I don’t know for sure what good the meds are doing. He’s really pulling away. Technically, he didn’t rot in his house all day. He left to drop Tali off and pick her up. And walked the dogs a few times. Put on a good face.’ She pauses and then turns to face me. ‘If you ask me, I think she really rattled him this time around. Convinced him that something could go wrong. And it’s no fault of yours,’ Genny says quickly, reaching out with a reassuring hand to my arm, ‘really. In fact, if you’re willing, I think youmight be the best person for him to talk to. I’m just concerned he …’
She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I know enough to clock that the person Rod is withdrawing from isme. In which case I don’t think Charlotte’s necessarily the reason behind this. There’s something else sitting there in his head, and it’s the doubt, the mistrust that has featured pretty prominently in his entire adult life so far.
‘Are you sure I’m the best person for him to talk to?’ My voice rises and falls awkwardly. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.
‘I’ll try anything to get him out in fighting shape by Saturday,’ Genny admits. She looks to me with sad eyes, eyes that have seen her brother in this condition before. There’s no blame, though, only hopelessness. ‘And Bia won’t be down till tomorrow. So you’re really, truly, my best shot.’
Genny walks me down the property, and around towards Rod’s. She knocks at the door a couple of times. ‘Tali’s out at camp,’ she tells me, her voice low. ‘If this goes south,’ she forces a wan smile, ‘at least I got a mimosa in the kitchen with your name on it.’
Eventually, Genny gives up knocking and pushes the unlocked door open. ‘It’s Gen!’ she calls loudly. The words echo against the high ceilings of the house. As Cadillac Ranch-boujee as this place is, it feels empty.
‘He’ll sleep quite a bit,’ she murmurs as we make our way through the main hall. I have seen Rod in many different avatars over the last couple of months, but this is much different. I feel like an intruder – literally – in someone else’s house, with no idea of what the devil I’m doing here. Our feet pad quietly onthe wooden steps, Genny’s tone still hushed. ‘Some days high functioning, some days not so much. Just … be there with him.’
I nod, my hands shaking.High functioning. I could kick myself. I have felt sad and despondent, but that is not necessarily the same as being depressed. It is not at all the same as going on with your daily life and never allowing anyone to have a clue of the fact that you simply feel lost. Rod mentioned meds, those pills on his nightstand, which I hope have helped him, but from what Genny is telling me, it seems like those only do so much.
There’s a sudden clatter in the kitchen, barking from Scout and Boo that gradually subsides, and then a quiet scrape. ‘Roddy,’ Genny says, ‘Jordan’s here.’
As Genny and I round the corner, Rod comes into view. Initially, he looks like he’s just a guy spending a weekend in. He wears old flannel pants with the Mass State logo, and a camp T-shirt reading the year 2024. I mean, it’s been, what, a day or two? I didn’t expect a drastic change, and if I’d just seen him, I’d think he’s taking a well-deserved break from work for a day.
But as he moves the omelette he’s just made from the skillet to his plate, I notice smaller details. The puffy bags under his eyes. The glassiness in his gaze. The absence of the fitness watch that usually has a permanent spot on his wrist.
‘Hey,’ I start gently, not pressing, staying around the corner.
He lifts his head to regard me. ‘Jordan.’
‘How are you?’ It’s a dumb question. I wince the moment I ask it. Clearly, he’s not doing well. I don’t know what sort of answer I was expecting.
‘I’m alright,’ Rod says dispassionately, in the voice of a manwho isn’t really sure what ‘alright’ is any more. ‘I-I’m really sorry,’ he starts, but I stop him.
‘Please don’t be. You had a horrible weekend, and a stressful week so far,’ I tell him, my hand flat on the counter in front of him. ‘I don’t want you to apologize for that, or anything. Maybe just for scaring the bejeesus out of me by going radio silent.’
He smiles at that last bit. It’s startlingly emotionless. ‘Not my proudest move.’
Genny and Rod exchange a quick game of glances and, with one last look, Genny heads back down the hall and out the front door, leaving the two of us alone. He clears his throat, and then says, ‘I mean it. I’m not proud of this … any of it.’
My own chest tightens. ‘Any of it?’
‘Jordan … at first, it starts out as fear.’ He swallows hard, running a hand through his unruly hair. ‘And then it hollows out. Feels like everything could fall apart, and I wouldn’t know the difference. Like I could have something worth fighting for, except I don’t have the energy to fight. It’s like your phone died, and you’re trying to find your way back to your hotel in a brand-new city. Just wandering, waiting to feel something, anything.’
