Strangely Normal - By Tess Oliver Page 0,74
me a sympathetic smile. “I know you’ve been stuck in here watching soaps all day. Finley always has the same routine for her down times. I’m sure you could use an hour away from here.”
As tempting as a great burger and time away sounded, I was hesitant. “Let me go check on Finley first. I need to take Some Pig up anyhow. He’s probably tired.”
Cole nodded but didn’t look too pleased. “Hurry up though. I’m hungry.”
I climbed the stairs with Some Pig following close behind. Up until the last few days, I’d enjoyed every minute with Finley. I’d looked forward to each day knowing that it would be filled with at least three major bouts of laughter. But now I dreaded seeing her. I loathed seeing this side of her. I had no idea what to say to her, and the connection that had come so instantly and fervently from the beginning had been lost. That bothered me most of all. I knocked but there was no response.
Some Pig had a litter box and bed of straw in a giant closet in Finley’s bedroom. I looked down at him and just like a little kid, he seemed to be doing what my mom had always referred to as the pee pee dance. I opened the door quietly, and the pig trotted to his little room and disappeared inside.
Finley looked tiny in her big bed buried beneath the layers of plush blankets. I tiptoed over and gently pulled back the cover. Her face was red from crying, but she slept soundly. It was amazing how much sleep she needed in this state. I tucked the blanket in around her, turned off the light, and left the room.
Hopefully, a long night of sleep would ease the pain of what had happened with Jude.
***
The burger joint in my neighborhood had wobbly plastic chairs, food wrapped in paper, and that distinctive thin coating of grease on everything, including the napkin dispenser. In Cole’s neighborhood, the burger joint was more of a boutique than a joint. The ten dollar burgers were delivered in a basket to the rustic, but elegant, pine booths. A linen napkin cradled the basket and the soda arrived in a sparkling wine glass. But after the first few bites it occurred to me that the greasy dive served better burgers.
Cole devoured his in minutes, and I handed him half of mine. “Here. It’s way too much burger for me.”
“You sure?” The sandwich was halfway to his mouth.
“Positive.”
“I don’t know how you girls exist on such tiny amounts of food.” He plowed it into his mouth. The evening’s events had definitely not upset his appetite. He wiped the pristine linen napkin across his mouth. “So I guess you and Jude are a thing.”
His comment caught me off guard, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. Especially because I really had no idea if we were a thing. Jude’s attitude toward me seemed to have changed as drastically as his sister’s spirits.
“We’re not really a thing,” I finally said, and realized my words were depressingly true. As much as I would have liked there to be a thing, I’d gotten myself into something much more complex than I’d imagined. The rocky and unfulfilling relationship I’d had with Chandler at school had been pretty straightforward. Fairly early on I’d discovered Chandler wanted to be with me just as long as no one of importance knew about it. At first, I’d been willing to accept it because I’d had a crush on the guy, and who doesn’t want to be with the most popular guy in school? But my heart was never at risk with Chandler. Deep down, I’d known it, and it’d been easy to let him go. But with Jude, my usual confidence, the usual defenses I put up around my heart had disintegrated with his first kiss. I’d known from the beginning that nothing about the relationship was good or solid, but I’d let myself fall for him.
Cole gulped back the last of his cola. “I don’t know about that. I think it’s a thing to my brother.”
Of course, I desperately wanted to ask him why he thought so, but then I’d never thought of Cole as someone who was good at reading other people’s feelings. His thoughts seemed mostly centered around Cole. I decided to change the subject because this one was making my already bleak mood worse.
“Cole, don’t you think you should let your dad know that things are getting