It’snice knowing how to block the number on the phone Carter gave me because it’s the only reason I let myself call JJ two months ago. I didn’t expect him to answer, but then he did.
I’ve wanted to call every day since, the homesickness overpowering the anger I’ve poisoned myself with. JJ was the compromise I made with myself because out of everyone, he never did anything but care about me.
It was a long day at work, under the sweltering sun, and it wouldn’t surprise me if I started hallucinating seeing my family. I miss them, but I’m starting to find my footing.
I’ve been working under the table for a local construction company, and thankfully, they didn’t look too hard at the fake ID Ryan was able to score for me at the end of last school year. It says my name is Brandon Gibbs, which is an entirely forgettable name for an entirely forgettable person. I’m rarely seen without a hat on, helping to disguise my distinguishing features. It’s risky staying in Charlotte, especially now that football season is about to kick off and I grew up here,but I’m avoiding every part of town my family has been known to frequent. Everyone I used to know has either gone to college or is playing professional soccer.
So now I get to spend my days working my ass off, pretending to be a stranger. It’s exhausting, but I’m able to pay my portion of the rent I insisted on covering after the first month.
I thought I knew what hard work was, but it’s nothing compared to working manual labor in the sweltering North Carolina humidity on days I’d normally spend surfing.
This isn’t where I thought I’d be a year ago, but I think I’m starting to like the person I’m becoming.
JJ’s back at school, Hunter’s at Oceanside, and Kaitlyn is at Duke. I think for the first time in all of our lives, we’re all having to figure shit out by ourselves. I haven’t let myself log in to any of my old accounts because I don’t know if my parents have someone working on them.
My phone is sitting on the bathroom counter when I get out of the shower, the layers of sweat and grime washed away from the day.
Don’t call him.
It feels like a taunt, knowing how easy it would be to call him.
Would he answer?
The question haunts me the rest of the night, until I’m falling into bed, my eyes closing on their own accord, but my brain won’t turn off. Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to call him again.
I remember to block my number first before dialing his number from memory. I never thought I’d be grateful my parents made a point for all of our phone numbers to be the same except for the last digit. It helps I’m also good at remembering combinations of numbers.
Before I can chicken out and hang up, my older brother answers. “Hello?”
My throat squeezes, and I don’t know if I can make any words come out.This was a mistake.
“Bailey? Is that you?” JJ asks, and the way he sounds so hopeful is enough for me.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?” he blurts out, and I miss him so much.
“I’m okay,” I say, keeping it simple. I don’t want to say anything that will tell him where I am.
“Where are you?”
I hesitate, second guessing making this call again. “I’m somewhere safe.”
“Please, come home, Bailey. I was hoping you’d call again so I could tell you how much everyone misses you. We’ve been trying to find you, but it’s like you disappeared into thin air.Fuck. Just come back,” JJ pleads, ripping open the scar that’s barely healed.
I want to believe that our family might miss me as much as I miss them, but even if they do, it doesn’t erase the awful things I’ve done. It can’t turn back the clock to give me the years with Carter I should’ve had, or cancel out all the times I’ve faded into the background.
“JJ, I’m not coming back. I can’t,” I say, hoping he can’t hear how much it’s taking for me to sound normal right now.
“You can. I love you. Just tell me what we need to do, and I’ll make sure it happens. Please.”
I thought I’d feel better calling him, but it’s only making it worse.
“I love you too, but I have to go,” I say, feeling my stomach churn as I stare at the ceiling.
“Baile—” I hang up before he can say anything else, leaving me alone with all of my regrets.
“Aren’t you tired of school?” I complain, rubbing my temples while Luna does her homework before Sunday night dinner.
