thought, I know, but I tend to have a lot of them.
There’s only one other patron in the diner, and I’m guessing he’s the driver of the 18-wheeler parked out front. He sits at the end of the counter, and I take up a booth in the corner. The server, a middle-aged woman with bleached-blonde hair and black roots, stops by my table. Her smile is one that can’t be faked, and she aims it right at me when she asks, “You here for the summer, baby?” There’s a southern twang in her words, which is similar to Mia’s—though she’d deny she had an accent at all if you brought it up.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Workin’?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Which one?”
I tilt my head, focus on her name badge: Sandra. “Which… one… what?”
She’s still smiling that same smile. “Which farm, hon?”
“Oh no, I’m just helping out a friend. Kind of,” I ramble. “Well, it was a farm, but not anymore, I’m just—”
“Oh, you’re at Papa John’s?”
I nod.
“He’s a good man, that one.” She puts pen to paper. “What can I get ya, sweetheart?”
I place my order and then follow her movements to the server window, where she shouts out a bunch of words too quickly to make out.
The book that my sister had shoved in my bag before I left sits on the bench beside me, but I already know I won’t be able to concentrate enough to be able to read. I’d left the house for two reasons. One: to give John and Mia time to catch up. And two: I needed to escape reality. Even if it was for an hour or so, I needed to be in a different world, a different life, and what better way than getting lost in a book.
Lucy reads. All the time. She can read a full-length novel in the time it takes for me to read a couple of chapters. She likes to read romance, and sometimes she’ll pass them on to me if she thinks I’ll enjoy them. Then, when I’m finally done, she likes to discuss the book in its entirety. While her topics of discussion consist of things like “Oh my god, how hot was that dude!” Or “How hot was that sex scene!”—which yeah, are incredibly awkward things to examine in-depth with your sister—my discussions are based more around the “What the fuck were they thinking?” variety.
The philosopher, Edmund Burke, once wrote that the first and simplest emotion which we discover in the human mind is curiosity. Burke was definitely onto some shit because, swear, I’ll never stop being curious about people. About me. Sometimes I think I’m wired differently, like something is actually wrong inside my brain. I catastrophize basic situations, but when there’s an actual catastrophe, I don’t seem to grasp the severity of it.
Until it’s too late.
Case in point: Mia.
Before I can get lost in that train wreck of a situation, Miss Sandra’s back with my food. “Enjoy, baby,” she says, placing my order on the table. “You tell Papa John I said hi, okay?”
“You got it.” I force a smile and wait until she’s gone before digging in.
I’m done in five minutes, used to having to share food with five other growing boys.
And then I just sit, stare out the window, and wait.
I don’t really know what I’m waiting for, some kind of sign maybe to let me know it’s okay to go back to the house. Or maybe I’m waiting for me. For me to be okay.
My phone vibrates on the linoleum tabletop, and I pick it up, notice it’s a text from the sibling group chat.
Lucas: You good, Leo? Get there safe and everything?
I hate that he’s checking in on me as if he’s my dad. I already spoke to our actual dad yesterday and told him everything was fine.
Leo: Yep.
Logan: Any hoes?
Leo: Of the gardening variety, plenty, I’m sure. Your type of hoes? No.
Logan: Sucks.
Lucy: Have you finished that book?
Leo: You gave it to me yesterday…
Lucy: Bahhhh!
Logan: Are there any hot chicks? They don’t even have to put out.
Lucas: Shut up, Virgin.
Logan: YOUR MOM’S A VIRGIN.
Lucy: BOYS!!
Logan: Hey, Leo. You might want to wash your sheets before you get back in them. I had a little accident.
Leo: What the fuck?! Get out of my bed.
Lucy: You’re so gross, Logan!
Logan: What? I said it was a fucking accident!
Leo: I gotta go.
I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and place it face down on the table. With a heavy sigh, I look out the window. It’s still