Page 103 of Beg Me

“I have some memories of my first dad,” he says quietly. “I remember the sound of his voice and how he loved baseball and how our house felt so happy. And then he died and it wasn’t happy like that anymore.”

Fuck. “Gus, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “It was a sad time. And things got better and Mom got happier, but it was never the same, you know?” He takes a breath. “But at your house, when Markie is there, it reminds me of that time before he died. It’s happy. It feels … I don’t know. Full.”

My elbow rests against the window as I lay the side of my head against my palm.

Gus snuggles against the seat. “I’m going to try to sleep now. My head hurts.”

Mine, too, buddy. Mine fucking, too.

***

Markie

I wander aimlessly through my house, wearing a path in the carpet. I made Mira go home to Hartley about an hour ago, and the depths of the loneliness I’ve experienced since have been indescribable.

I can’t sit, can’t read, can’t focus long enough to clean out a cabinet. Lying down isn’t an option because my bed reminds me of Jory. Even the bathtub reminds me of him, which is unfortunate.

I might just have to buy a new house and start over.

Or become a nun.

“Yup, that’d probably be easier,” I say, sighing.

My head throbs from crying off and on for the last however many hours. I hate crying for any reason, but I really hate it when I’m feeling sorry for myself. Sure, I’m crying for Gus and Jory and Deidre. But, if I’m being honest, I’m crying for myself, too. And I really, really feel like a shitty person for that.

The phone rings and I jump, racing to the table to pick it up. My heart in my throat, I hold my breath until I see that it’s not Jory.

“What do you want, Miles?” I ask, taking the blanket off the baby. My annoyance with him is thick in my tone, and I don’t care.

“Hello to you, too.”

“It’s your lucky day. If you called to fight, I’m ready. Let’s go. Throw the first punch so I can rip your head off.”

“Woah,” he says like he just cornered a badger. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Bad night. What do you want? We both know you only call when you want something, so get it out of the way so I can tell you no and to eat shit and die.”

He pauses and I can almost feel the energy shift through the phone. “Seriously, Markie. What’s wrong?”

“Like you care.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that I don’t truly desire to listen to you bitch about your life for the next ten minutes, but I am intrigued.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, least of all with you.”

“Where’s Jory?”

“Ohio.”

“Why?”

“Call him and ask him.”

“I’d rather not.” He chuckles softly. “As a matter of fact, the next time you talk to him, be sure to tell him that I’m not the one who pissed you off, okay?”

I pace the room again, going back and forth from one wall of the living room to the other. There’s an edge to Miles’s tone that I can’t quite place. It’s so … awkward.