“You are the dumbest brother ever. Seriously,” Trish said as I got in the car. “You are seriously going to leave her now?”
“I don’t belong there anymore. I shouldn’t really have been there that long. Her mother was going to say something eventually and I didn’t want her to have to go through that again.”
“You’re still a dumbass.” She moved the seat back so she could have room for her legs.
“What am I supposed to do, Trish?” She could criticize all she wanted, but I’d like to see her do better.
“Well, first I wouldn’t abandon her in her time of need. Second, I would have told her that I loved her.”
We were back to that again.
“I don’t love her, Trish.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes before taking her hair out of the careful bun she’d put it in, to look respectful, I supposed. She hadn’t taken out her violet contacts, and she’d worn her black boots, so those sort of negated her effort, but it was a nice try.
“Yeah, you do.”
“Look Trish, I’m exhausted and I really, really need a cigarette, so could you just lay off?”
Normally she would have made a snarky comment and just ignored me until she had her say, but I must have looked bad enough for her to back down.
“Fine, fine.”
I turned on the radio as loud as it would go and loosened my tie.
“Here,” she said, fishing in my glove box for my emergency smokes. She held one out to me and put it in my mouth before lighting it.
“Thanks.”
“You should really quit, you know.”
Every now and then Trish nagged me to quit, but then she still smoked, so it was a bit of a pot and kettle situation.
“I will if you will.” We’d tried that before too. Turned out willpower was not one of our genetic gifts.
“Deal.” She held out her hand and we shook on it. “But let me have one last one.”
So we each smoked one last cigarette in silence as I drove us back to school.
***
I texted Katie when we got back, just so she’d know we arrived alive. Trish saw me doing it, but made no comment other than raising her eyebrow and giving me a look.
I dropped her back at her apartment and went back to mine. The place felt too big and too silent. Just the sound of my own breathing was loud. I turned on some music, not caring what it was as long as the sound filled up the empty rooms. “Holding on and Letting Go”, by Ross Copperman came through the speakers and I almost turned it off, but that would be admitting the song bothered me because it made me think of Katie. I wasn’t going to give the song that satisfaction.
My phone rang and I knew without looking at it who it would be.
“Hey,” she said, and her voice was thick with tears.
“Hey.”
“I miss you. Mom’s back to being a sobbing mess and Kayla’s trying to get her to eat and my family is smothering me and I just wish you were here. Or I wish I was there. Either way, I wish we were together.”
So did I.
“I’m sorry I left, but I didn’t want to start anything with your mom.”
“I know why you left, but I wish you didn’t have to. Things have gotten so…complicated.” She laughed a little, but it wasn’t really funny. “I think I’m still in denial.”
“Hey, I’m not judging.”
“I know.”
“I’m quitting smoking,” I said, just for something to say that didn’t involve death.
“Really? Have you ever tried before?”
“Trish and I try every now and then, but it never sticks.”
“Well, if you need, like, a sponsor or something, I would be happy to fill that role. You know, help you with the pledge.”
“The pledge?”
“I accept the things and I can’t change and…I know there’s something about the wisdom to know the difference…” I almost laughed.
“That’s for Alcoholics Anonymous.”
“Does it really matter?”
“I guess not,” I said as the song switched to “Rose Tattoo”, by Dropkick Murphys.
“Could you play for me?” she said, as if she was asking to borrow a kidney.
“What do you want to hear?”
“Anything.”
I turned off Dropkick, put the phone on speaker and picked up my guitar, sifting through my mental jukebox. I wanted something that would make her laugh. Something unexpected. I smiled and started “Lovefool”, by The Cardigans. I’d found it through a random internet search once and thought it was catchy.