One Week - By Nikki Van De Car Page 0,22
press my lips together firmly and shake my head. “Nope,” I say, and hope he'll leave it at that.
But of course he doesn't. “Hey, look, I know you're hurt about the stuff with your dad and the birthday cards and all, but you don't know what might have been going on with her, and maybe if you found her, it would turn out that it was all a misunderstanding or something, and everything would be great.”
“I don't want to,” I snap. “Okay? What business is it of yours, anyway? And what world do you live in where magically everything is fine?”
Jess looks away, but before he does, I see that I've hurt him somehow, and I take a deep breath. “Sorry,” I say. “ I know you were just trying to help.”
Jess doesn't answer right away. And when he does, his voice is quiet. “My dad died about five years ago. And before he died…I was fifteen, you know? We fought a lot. The night before, we'd had this huge fight about how I wasn't helping out enough at home, that he was counting on me to be the man of the house, and take care of my brother and sister while my mom was at work. I didn't want to be the man of the house. I wanted to be able to go out like all my friends. He lost his temper, and said I was a selfish little prick. I called him a fat fuck and stormed out of the house. He left for work before I got up the next morning… so that was the last thing we ever said.”
“How did he die?” I ask softly.
“He was in a car accident—he was a UPS driver, and he got hit crossing the street.”
I want to reach across the bed and take Jess's hand, like he held mine in the car, but I don't know how. “I'm so sorry,” I say, and it sounds completely inadequate.
Jess looks away, and after a moment he clears his throat. “Yeah. It's just—there isn't anything I wouldn't give to be able to talk to him again. Even just to fight with him again.” He looks at me seriously. “You have that chance, Bee.”
I sigh, and spread my hands helplessly. “It's different when they leave you,” I say, trying to explain. “And I used to believe what you're saying—I used to think there was some reason she left that would explain everything, that would make it okay. And I did look for her.”
Jess looks surprised. “You did? When?”
“It was right around when I found out she didn't send the cards. I figured there had to be something that was keeping her from me, like maybe she was on the other side of the world, doing—oh, I don't know. I had all these fantasies about how she'd gone to save trees in South America or dolphins in Japan or something. Which still wouldn't make it okay, but it was something.”
I stop, and fiddle with the candy wrappers on the bed. I don't know why, after all this time, it's still so hard for me to accept this. Jess waits quietly, and doesn't push me to talk before I'm ready. “Well,” I say, and force a laugh. “She wasn't saving dolphins, and she wasn't in Japan. She's still in California, selling cheap T-shirts at the beaches around San Diego. She's a drunk. She's…. she's been arrested for drunk-driving. She nearly killed a kid a couple of years ago.”
Jess lets out his breath in a rush. “Yeah. That's not saving dolphins.”
My half-laugh is almost real this time. “No, it isn't.”
“Still…” he says, and gives me a cautious look. “I'm not saying there is anything that would ever make it all right, but maybe it would be worth it just to check. Not right now,” he says quickly. “But maybe someday.”
“Maybe someday,” I agree. And for the first time, it seems possible.
Jess gives me a quick smile, and after a moment I smile back. “This got really heavy really fast,” he says. “Perils of late night conversations.”
“Yeah,” I agree, like I have so much experience with them. “Do you think you can get to sleep?”
As I ask the question, there is another stream of curses, punctuated by more breaking glass. Jess grimaces, and shakes his head. “I doubt it. You?”
“Not a chance. I'm not really a very good sleeper under the best of circumstances.”
Jess stretches out on the bed and looks up at the ceiling. “Well, what do