When I get my weekly phone call from
my mother, my heart sinks. I wonder if there’s any chance at all that Camille
didn’t tell her about Brody.
“Who is this boy you’re seeing?” my
mother asks before she even says hello. So much for hoping Camille didn’t rat
me out.
“I met him in my night class,” I
say. “He’s really nice.”
“Uh-huh.” Mom sounds skeptical. “Camille
says she knew him in high school, and he wasn’t a nice boy.”
I’m still not sure whether or not to
believe that. Brody seems nothing like the guy Camille was describing the other
night. Maybe she’s mixing him up with somebody else. “People change.”
“I’m just worried, Emily.” Her voice
takes on a patronizing tone. “You’ve never been in a relationship with a man
before. That makes you a target for somebody to take advantage of you.”
“He’s not taking advantage of me,” I
insist. “He…”
I want to tell her about Brody’s
disability, but part of me feels like she’ll just use it as another reason I
shouldn’t go out with him. Or worse, she’ll assume he’s going out with me
because he can’t get anyone else. Well, I don’t know if that’s worse. But it’s just as bad.
“He’s a good guy,” I say. “I
promise.”
My mother lets out a sigh. “I’m
sorry. I don’t mean to doubt you, but it all just seems very suspicious. You
just met this boy, and you don’t know much about him. Why does he want to go
out with you?”
I flinch. She would never ask that
question of Camille. “Because he likes
me.”
“But you have to ask yourself why?”
I don’t even know what to say. I’m
speechless. Does my own mother feel that I’m so undesirable that any man who
agrees to go out with me must be preying on me?
“I’m sorry,” she adds. “It’s just
that Camille said he’s very… attractive.”
She’s not making it better. And it
also gives me an uneasy feeling that Camille thinks Brody is hot.
“Did he ask you for money?” she
asks. “Does he want you to get drugs for him?”
“This is a really insulting
conversation,” I say. “He likes me because… He just does. And I like him. A
lot.” I squeeze the phone in my hand, thinking about how very much I like Brody
Nolan. There’s nothing my mother could say to change that fact. “And I’m going
to keep seeing him.”
She’s silent for a moment on the
other line. “Fine. I just think you should be careful.”
“I’m careful!”
Of course, she doesn’t believe it.
She and Camille both think that Brody is playing me. There’s nothing I can do
to change her mind.
_____
I assume that at some point, Brody
will expect to see me naked.
I don’t look good naked. When I get
undressed at night, I avoid looking in my full-length mirror, because even a
glimpse makes me feel horrible about myself. The only positives I could list
would be that my breasts are big—they pretty much have to be. But they’re
overshadowed by rolls of fat and cellulite. My stomach sticks out almost as
much as my boobs do, and now it’s started sagging down over my thighs. My butt
is the biggest of all—easily large enough to take up two normal size chairs.
I’m not sure how long I can avoid
taking my clothes off in front of him. Honestly, I could probably get away with
it for a while. He’s not going to be ripping them off, to say the least. And he
can’t undress himself either, so I’m thinking we’re going to stay in our
clothes for quite a while.
But it’s going to happen.
Eventually.
I need to step up my diet a notch.
Granted, I’m always on a diet. But I would love to drop at least fifty pounds
before he sees me naked. And I haven’t lost any weight this year. I just keep
gaining, despite all my efforts.
A couple of days after my date with
Brody, I come home to find Abby cooking in the kitchen. I watch Abby’s lithe
body dancing around the stove and feel a flash of envy. My life would be so
much easier if I looked like her. I wouldn’t have to worry about people
shouting mean things at me when I walk down the street. I wouldn’t have to
endure stupid comments from family and friends every time they see me eat so
much as a french fry. Nobody would think I’m being targeted just because a man
shows interest in me.
I wonder what she’s cooking. It
smells horrible, but I’m sure it’s healthy. It will probably help me lose
weight, if only because it will make me vomit up everything I’ve eaten today.
“Abby?” I say, before I can change
my mind.
Abby looks up at me and smiles. “Hi,
Emily! What’s up?”
I sniff the air. “What are you
making? It smells… good.”
Abby’s eyes light up. “Does it? It’s
bean curd with brussel sprouts.”
It looks like chunky diarrhea. “Oh,”
I say.
“Would you like some?” Abby offers.
I push away a wave of revulsion. “Um,
sure.”
“Wonderful!” Abby waves her hand
over the pan of food to allow the smell to waft up to her nostrils. “Mmm… this
smells so good. It’s making my stomach growl.”
She has got to be putting me on. This food smells awful. It smells like
somebody left some beans out for a few months, they rotted, and then someone
mixed the rotted bean curd with garbage.
Abby spoons her concoction onto two
plates while I pour myself a glass of water. I sit down at the table and stare
at my plate. I do not want to eat this. But I have to do something drastic. I
don’t want Brody to see me naked looking the way I do now.
“Try it,” Abby encourages me. “Honestly,
Emily, it’s amazeballs!”
Well, if it’s amazeballs. Whatever the hell that means.
I cautiously dip my fork into the
food. Oh God, I really don’t
want to eat this. I push the forkful of bean curd into my mouth, then I force
myself to chew and swallow.
I clamp my hand over my mouth. It’s
the only thing keeping me from vomiting.
“Isn’t it good?” Abby asks me.
I’m saved from having to give a
response by the ringing of my cell phone. I pull it out of my pocket and see
the number Brody gave me popping up on the screen. Abby’s eyes light up. “Is
that the guy you’ve been dating?”
I nod and turn away from her to
answer the call: “Hey there.”
“Hey!” It’s Brody’s voice. “I’m
calling you on your phone! First time!”
Sometimes he’s too cute for words. “You
sure are.”
“Can you talk? Am I interrupting
anything?”
I look up at Abby, who is hanging on
my every word, curious for information about this guy who is actually willing
to go out with me. She’s been trying to pump me for details, but I’ve been
avoiding her. “Abby,” I say. “Would you mind if I ate the rest of this in my
room?”
Abby’s face falls—I guess she wanted
us to bond over bean curd. I grab the plate and run to my room. There’s
absolutely no way I’m eating this plate of food—I’ll dump it in the garbage
disposal tonight, when Abby is in her room.
“Thank you,” I say into the phone. “You
saved me from dinner with my roommate.”
“You never told me you had a
roommate,” he says.
“Not much to tell,” I say. “I have a
roommate. She’s nice but annoying.”
“Why is she annoying?”
“Let me put it this way,” I say, “she
uses the word ‘amazeballs.’ Like, not sarcastically.”
“I didn’t know women used that word.”
“Are you kidding me? Only women use that word.”
“Yeah, but it has the word ‘balls’
in it.”
I laugh into the phone. “I don’t
think the ‘balls’ in ‘amazeballs’ necessarily refers to testicles.”
“I always assumed it did.”
I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. But I’m
going to mention this to Abby. Maybe I can get her to stop saying it. That
would be amazeballs.
“So here’s the deal,” Brody says. “Unfortunately,
Mike’s girlfriend is coming into town this weekend from Colorado, so I don’t
think he’s going to be able to help me. I’m getting my brother to cover for him
on Saturday night, so he won’t be around at all.”
“Oh,” I say.
“I know—it’s frustrating,” he sighs.
“But I was thinking, if you’re free, maybe we could do something outside on
Saturday? It’s supposed to be a nice day. Like… the Central Park Zoo?”
“All right,” I agree. I haven’t been
to the zoo since I was a child. I kind of remember that it used to smell like
animals and animal poop.
“Great,” he says. “Do you want to
meet by the front entrance at three?”
“Sure.”
“I can’t wait,” he says.
I love how Brody doesn’t play games.
Even though I’ve never been in an actual relationship before, I’ve been in
plenty of online ones and it seemed like there was usually never a good balance
of how attentive the guy was. Either he’d be way too aloof and act like he
didn’t care at all if we talked, or he’d be way too needy. Brody doesn’t seem worried
about waiting X number of days before calling me, or not letting on that he
wants to see me. Yet he doesn’t bother me every two seconds with texts and
calls. I like that.
“Also,” he says, “I have a question.”
“Sure.”
“Why did Camille Davison send me a
Facebook message saying, ‘Stay away from my sister’?”
I groan. “She didn’t…”
“Yeah…” He snorts. “I guess you told
her we were going out?”
“I did. And… she doesn’t like you
very much.”
That makes him laugh. “Even after
all these years. Wow. Nice.”
“Actually, she…” I suck in a breath.
“She told me that you… you asked her out in high school.”
“I what?”
He sounds surprised, but he’s not
denying it. “Did you?”
“No!” he says vehemently. “Definitely
not. Believe me, I didn’t like her or
want to go out with her. I don’t know why she thinks that. If anything, she was
always trying to…”
I wait for him to finish this
thought, but he doesn’t. “Trying to what?”
“Nothing.” His voice is subdued. “Hey,
did you tell Cammy that… you know, that I use a wheelchair now?”
“No…” I bite my lip. “I don’t know.
I didn’t want to gossip or anything.”
“It’s not like it’s a secret.”
I can’t tell if he’s offended or not
that I didn’t tell her. “I’ll tell her.”
“Okay.” He hesitates. “But just so
you know, no matter what Cammy says, I don’t want to stay away from you. Just
the opposite.”
I smile. “Me too.”
“So we agree your sister is full of
it?”
I laugh. “Yeah, agreed.”
“Hey, Emily,” Brody says. His voice
gets a little husky. “What are you wearing right now?”
I look down at my T-shirt and
sweatpants. “I’m in my nightie,” I say. I have no idea what a nightie is, but
it sounds way sexier than a T-shirt and sweatpants. Especially since I bought
the sweatpants about thirty pounds ago, and they are digging into my belly,
making an unsexy red line.
“I wish I were with you,” he says. And
he sounds like he really, really means it.
“I could come over now,” I say
tentatively. “I mean, if you’d like.”
“Seriously?” Brody sounds some
combination of nervous and excited.
“Well, sure,” I say. It’s only eight
o’clock. I usually don’t go to sleep till at least midnight, so I could hang
out for a few hours at Brody’s apartment.
“The thing is,” he says. “Mike comes
at nine-thirty to help me get ready for bed, so… I mean, by the time you got
here…” I can hear the frustration in his voice. “Maybe it’s not the best idea,
Emily. I’m sorry. I do want to see you. I mean, it would have been awesome. It
would have been amazeballs.”
“It’s okay,” I say.
“I’m really sorry,” he says again.
I try to hide my disappointment. “Don’t
worry about it.”
We talk about this and that for a
while longer. He finally gets off the phone when Mike comes in and it’s time
for him to get ready for bed. I’m not even close to ready for bed, so instead,
I go out and get myself a real dinner, surreptitiously tossing my bean curd
down the garbage disposal on the way out.
***
Saturday turns out to be a nice, hot
day. Maybe the last hot day before fall sets in for real. But I hate hot days. Rain
would have been preferable.
If you have a cute little body, I’m
sure it’s tons of fun to dress in skimpy clothing and trounce around the city. When
you’re morbidly obese, it’s less fun. Gigantic, puffy winter coats are the
great equalizer, but during the summer, everything is on display for passers-by
to critique.
And of course, I can’t cover up when
it gets hot because… big surprise: I sweat. Like a fountain. Even in a T-shirt
and shorts, I get sweaty. If I wore anything warmer than that, I’d be drenched.
I don’t think I want to have pit stains during my date.
So for our date at the Central Park
Zoo, I select a black short-sleeved shirt and shorts that come nearly down to
my knees. It’s the best I can do. It’s the skimpiest thing I’ve worn around
Brody, and it makes me edgy.
When I get to the zoo, Brody is
already waiting outside the entrance. He’s wearing jeans and also had to opt
for the rare short-sleeved shirt. I realize I’ve never seen his bare arms
before, because every other time, he’s been wearing a sweatshirt or some sort of
over-shirt… or a dress shirt on our two dates. I didn’t realize how thin his
forearms were. He does have biceps, but his forearms are completely devoid of
any sort of muscle or fat or anything. They don’t look functional at all, which
I guess is accurate.
“Hey, Emily!” Brody calls out when
he spots me. He’s wearing a pair of Ray Bans and his red-tingled hair is
wind-tousled—he looks pretty darn adorable.
I walk over to him, and he tilts his
head up to me. I realize he wants to kiss me, so after a second of hesitation,
I lean in. When I’m close to him, he whispers in my ear, “I had a great dream
about you last night.”
My cheeks grow warm. I’ve never had
a guy talk to me this way—at least, not in the real world. It makes me both
excited and embarrassed. I’m sort of grateful that he doesn’t tell me any more
details of his dream, even though part of me is dying to hear.
The line for tickets is insane. Everyone
else thought the zoo would be a good idea today too. It’s one of those lines
that’s held together by a maze of ropes, and Brody curses when he sees it. “I
hate these things.”
Sure enough, he gets in all right,
but as he attempts to turn as the line moves forward, he knocks down one of the
metal poles. I jump over to grab it, while Brody apologizes. “These things do
not allow for a big enough turning radius,” he grumbles. I don’t say anything
about it, but I hate those poles too. My butt has knocked over dozens in my
lifetime.
As I’m fixing the pole, a young man
jogs over to us wearing a staff member shirt. He addresses Brody directly. “Sir,”
he says anxiously. “You can enter the zoo free of charge.” He looks over at me.
“Your caregiver can enter free of charge as well.”
It’s hard to read Brody’s expression
because of his dark glasses, but he just looks up and stares at the guy. “What?”
“We now allow handicapped patrons
and their helpers to enter the zoo for free,” the man clarifies, smiling
generously.
Brody shakes his head. “I… she’s my
girlfriend.”
“Oh!” The staff member seems taken
aback. Christ, is it really that hard
to believe? “Well, that’s okay. You can still both enter for free.”
Brody looks like he’s debating
saying no, but the line isn’t shrinking, and there’s a toddler right ahead of
us who just started shrieking. Finally, Brody mumbles, “Okay, thanks.”
We get off the line and follow the
man to the front entrance, and he waves us through. “You and your girlfriend
have a wonderful time!” he calls to us. “Enjoy the animals!”
An awkward silence hangs between me
and Brody as we travel through the zoo. I don’t know why—I mean, the zoo is
expensive, and we got in for free. Not that he seems to care about stuff like
that.
We’re nearly at the sea lions when
he finally breaks the silence: “I didn’t mean to tell him you’re my girlfriend.”
My heart sinks. Why did he say that?
He just said that thing about having a dream about me, and I thought he really
liked me. Did my shorts and T-shirt change his mind?
“Okay…” I murmur.
“Um…” Brody looks up at me. I wish I
could see his eyes. Stupid sunglasses. “That’s not what I meant. Like, we’ve
only been on a few dates, so… I mean, I don’t consider you my girlfriend yet or
anything.” He rubs his chin with the back of his hand. “Unless you want to be. If
you do, then… I mean, that would be okay… more than okay… it would be great. Really great. But like I said, it’s only
been a few dates, so I don’t want to pressure you.”
“I do want to be,” I say. “Your
girlfriend, that is.”
A smile creeps across his face. “Yeah?”
I return the smile. “Yeah.”
Brody nods, pleased with himself. “Well,
then, I’m glad that guy was such an idiot.”
I lean in to kiss him, and my heart
is pounding in my chest. Brody is my boyfriend. I have a boyfriend! A real boyfriend who knows what I look like and wants to
kiss me. It’s so freaking surreal. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud.
The first animal exhibit we see is
the sea lions. We stop and watch for a little while, and inevitably, I hear
some little kid say, “Mommy, that lady is fatter than the sea lions.”
And that takes me down from my cloud
just like that.
Kids always say what they’re
thinking. And they always seem to think that I’m fat. Or else pregnant. I get
nervous whenever I’m around them for that reason.
I glance at Brody, to see if he
heard. But he seems to be concentrating on fumbling through the pouch on his
wheelchair. A minute later, he comes up with a tube of sunscreen.
“I didn’t realize how sunny it was
going to be,” he explains. “I don’t want to get fried. I don’t tan well.”
He brings the tube of lotion to his
mouth and uses his teeth to pop the cap. He lays the tube on his lap and gives
it a squirt, aiming for his other hand, but largely missing and dousing his
jeans.
“Crap,” he comments.
“Do you want me to help you put that
on?” I ask him.
“No, that’s okay.” Brody looks down
at the tube of sunscreen, then back up at me. “Um, well. If you help me, would
that be sexy or weird?”
“Sexy,” I assure him. It might be a
little weird too. But it’s truly painful to watch him battling with that tube of
sunscreen.
“Fine then,” he says, and he lifts
his arm to allow me to pick up the sunscreen.
I squirt some of the white sunscreen
onto my hands and Brody holds out his left arm to me. He is really white, which
makes sense since he’s Irish and hasn’t gotten much sun lately. I spread the
cream over his arm, rubbing it into his skin. His lower arms are so withered
that I can palpate every single bone. His skin is smooth, but I notice when I
get to his wrist, the joint feels a little stiff, as do his fingers. Although
as I creep up to his upper arms, I notice his biceps are still pretty much
intact.
“Do you want me to do your face?” I
ask him, when I finish with his arms.
“Yes, please,” he says.
Brody gets this kind of dopey
expression on his face as I spread the cream over the bridge of his nose, then
his cheeks, and forehead with their almost-freckles. When I get to his chin, I
feel the sharp stubble of his beard under my fingers. If he grew a real beard,
it would probably be redder than his hair.
“Thanks,” he says, as I put the cap
back on the sunscreen and replace it in his pouch. “That was actually… kind of
hot.”
You know what? It really was.
_____
The zoo is fairly accessible, and we
end up visiting most of the exhibits. Brody’s favorite seems to be the polar
bear. There’s a flight of stairs to get up to see it from above, but we can
watch it swimming around through glass on the ground level. He pulls off his
sunglasses and watches that polar bear in fascination for several minutes.
Don’t laugh, but I’m delighted he
likes the polar bear. Because that polar bear is definitely fatter than I am.
My least favorite exhibit has always
been the Tropic Zone. It’s this exhibit that’s set up like a rainforest,
complete with stifling humidity. I remember going there as a kid with my
parents and my sisters, feeling the sweat accumulating under my armpits,
hearing the wooden planks groaning beneath my weight. I remember how narrow the
pathway was and how there were always freaking kids everywhere. As we get
closer to the Tropic Zone, I grow seriously anxious that I might not fit down
the pathway. Or that the planks might break under my weight.
“Um,” I say, once the Tropic Zone
looms in front of us. “Did you… want to go in?”
“Hell, no,” Brody says. “Sorry. I
know they have the little blue wheelchair sign, but I don’t trust my wheelchair
to fit down those pathways. I’d get stuck or something.”
We must be soulmates. Not only is he
worried about not being able to navigate through the Tropic Zone, but when it
comes to kids saying what’s on their mind, he has gotten it way, way worse than
I have today. At least half a dozen kids have loudly asked their parents what’s
wrong with him. While we were in the snow leopard exhibit, one boy came right
up to Brody and said to him, “Mister, why do you need a wheelchair?”
And that time, the parents didn’t
even stop the kid. They just stood there, like this was a totally appropriate
question.
“Because I can’t walk,” Brody told
the boy. Duh.
“What’s wrong with your arms?” the
boy pressed him.
At this point, the boy’s father
said, “He’s very curious about things! You don’t mind answering, do you?”
Brody glanced up at me. I got the
idea that if I weren’t standing right there, he might not have been so polite
or patient. But he’s on his best behavior in front of me. “Uh, sure,” he said. He
looked down at the little boy. “I had an injury to my spinal cord, so my arms
and my legs don’t work very well.”
“But how do you go to the bathroom?”
the boy asked. I swear to God, he really asked that. And at that point, the
parents realized he’d gone too far, and pulled him away. Although to be honest,
I was kind of wondering about that myself. I made a trip to the ladies’ room
and Brody just waited outside for me. How the hell does he do it?
We get dinner at the Dancing Crane
Café. Brody orders chicken fingers, which he manages to eat easily. He just
scoops them up in his hand, and somehow they stay in there. There’s no salad
option, so I get myself a hot dog. Just one hot dog. No french fries.
While we’re finishing up our food, I
hear a phone going off. Brody reaches inside his pouch and pulls out his phone.
He lays it down on his lap and presses a button with his knuckle to answer.
“Hey, Bro!” A loud, tinny voice
booms out from the phone. “What took you so long to answer? You making out with
your girlfriend?”
“Shut up, Sean.” Brody rolls his
eyes at me. I guess it’s his brother. “Where are you?”
“Dad gave me the keys to the van,”
Sean says. “Do you want me to pick you up at the… what fucking lame place did
you take her to? The pussy museum?”
“Fuck you,” Brody says
good-naturedly. “Emily and I are at the zoo.”
“The zoo!” Sean busts out laughing. “Wow, she’s already got you
whipped. Hey, can she hear me?”
“Yeah,” Brody says, glancing up at
me nervously.
“Hey, Emily!” Sean calls out. “Tell
Brody to pick you up some tampons and bras, okay?”
“Will do,” I say. It’s easy to be
playful on the phone. It’s sort of my expertise.
“Oh, I like her!” Sean laughs. “She
sounds hot. Nice job, Bro.”
“Thanks,” Brody says, rolling his
eyes at me again. “Emily, are you ready to leave?” I nod. “Okay, we’re ready to
go. Can you pick me up?”
“Sure. Does Emily need a ride home?”
Brody looks up at me. I would love a
ride home, but my stomach clenches up at the idea of meeting Sean. I don’t want
to meet Brody’s smartass brother, and hear the comment he makes when he finds
out I’m not actually hot. And judging by the way this guy sounds on the phone,
he is definitely somebody who will comment.
But now that Brody and I are
officially boyfriend and girlfriend, meeting him is unavoidable. He’s Brody’s
only brother, after all. I may as well get it over with. And I don’t want to wait
at the bus stop for the next half hour.
“Okay, thanks,” I say.
“All right, give me like twenty
minutes,” Sean says. I hear honking and cursing in the background. Where is he?
Brody and I make our way slowly back
to the entrance of the park. It’s sort of frustrating how the schedule of other
people seems to dictate everything we do. Brody must sense I’m thinking about
that, because he says to me, “Next weekend, we’ll spend some time alone
together. I promise.”
A gray van careens down Fifth Avenue
at an almost alarming speed. The van narrowly avoids a collision with a taxi,
and there’s an exchange of angry honking and swear words, only about half of
which are in English. The van then screeches to a halt in front of us.
The passenger’s side window slides
open, and I see the face I recognize from the photo on Brody’s bookcase. Ruddy
complexion and red hair. Sean. He’s grinning out at us. “Record time, right?”
“How many little old ladies did you
hit on the way over?” Brody asks.
“Hey, if they can’t leap out of the
way, they have no business crossing the street.”
The back door of the van opens
automatically, and a platform extends slowly. When it’s fully extended, the end
lowers to turn it into a ramp onto the van. Brody pushes his hand into the
joystick of his chair and boards the van. I open the passenger’s side door next
to Sean and climb inside.
“Whoa,” Sean says as I plop down
into the seat next to him. He smirks and my cheeks grow hot, waiting for his
commentary. “Quite a woman you got here, Bro.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sean,” Brody
says. He doesn’t say it like he’s joking around either.
“Easy there, tiger,” Sean laughs. He
winks at me. “Nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Sean.”
“Hi,” I mumble.
“Now I’ll drop you off first,” Sean
says. “And then I’m going to take your boyfriend to a strip club, if that’s
okay with you.”
“He’s joking,” Brody says, shaking
his head. I’m glad he said it because I wasn’t entirely certain. “I forgot to
tell you, Emily. My brother’s a complete jackass.”
“I take that as a compliment,” Sean
says.
I pull on my seatbelt, and for one
horrifying moment, I’m frightened it won’t reach around my belly. I can’t even
imagine having to explain that one to Sean. Well, I wouldn’t. I’d pretend that
it was closed, while secretly holding it in place—I’ve done it before, believe
me. Fortunately, it snaps shut, just barely, although I’m not left with much
breathing room.
Sean turns back to look at Brody as
he starts up the engine. “Nice Ray Bans, Brody. They look a little familiar.”
Brody fingers his sunglasses then
grabs them between his thumb and forefinger to pull them off. I missed his
clear blue eyes. “Oops, sorry. You want them back?”
“Nah, keep ‘em.” Sean glances at me
as we move into traffic. “That’s the problem with having a little brother. He
steals all your shit.”
As Sean speaks to me, I can’t help
but get a whiff of his breath. Even though it’s early and he’s driving, he
stinks of alcohol. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car before with someone
who appeared to be drunk. And Sean is driving like a maniac. They say cab
drivers are crazy, but Sean is a million times worse. I’m frightened.
I’ve never had a panic attack
before, but I feel one coming on. I look back at Brody, who seems entirely
unconcerned. Well, he’s already
paralyzed. I grab onto my seat, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, I
blurt out, “Actually, can you drop me off right here?”
Sean looks at me in surprise. “What?”
he says.
“She’s probably terrified of your
reckless driving,” Brody says from the back.
“No, it’s not that.” I’m just
terrified of his drunken, reckless
driving. “I just remembered I have… something to do.”
They both think I’m crazy, but I
can’t relax till I’m out of that car. By the time Sean pulls over at the curb
and lets me out, I’m physically shaking. I watch him drive away, feeling guilty
that I did nothing to stop him from driving drunk. Was there some sort of
intervention I was supposed to do? Take away his car keys?
But I just met the guy, and he’s my
boyfriend’s brother. I don’t want him to hate me forever. Or worse, Brody to
hate me forever.
_____
I stop at McDonald’s on the way
home.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But
all I had to eat today was that teeny tiny hotdog that somehow cost five bucks.
(Although Brody paid for it. He won’t let me contribute a penny.) I’m starving.
And I’m feeling horrible about how our date ended. Brody probably hates me now.
There’s nobody else in line at
McDonald’s. The cashier is a skinny high school kid who looks me up and down
and snickers. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a large french fries.”
McDonald’s french fries are one of
the best things in the world (although not as good as chocolate). No matter how
many times Burger King revamps their fries, they will never be as good as the
ones at McDonald’s. I love that crispness on the outside, the saltiness, the
way they just melt in your mouth. While I’m eating those delicious fries, all
is right in the world.
“Is that all?” the cashier asks.
Well, I’m already ruining my diet. I
might as well have what I want. “I’ll also have a quarter pounder with cheese.”
I bring the food back to my room,
grateful that Abby isn’t around. She would go nuts if she saw me with a
McDonald’s bag. She thinks MacDonald’s is the evilest company in the world. I
disagree.
I inhale my quarter pounder and
fries in two minutes. I put my phone next to me and wait for Brody to call me.
And wait.
Except he doesn’t. Hours go by and
still no call. Not that he told me he was going to call, but somehow I thought
he would. Is it over? Was he so angered by my behavior that he doesn’t want to
speak to me ever again?
It’s not until ten-thirty that my
phone rings and Brody’s number pops up. I nearly crush the phone in my
eagerness to answer it. “Hi,” I say.
“Hi.” His voice is low and serious. “Um,
Sean is gone. I wanted to talk to you.”
I realize that if Sean is gone, then
he must be in bed since he told me his brother was going to help him with his
nightly routine. But presumably, he can still make calls, even if he’s in bed.
“Sure. What’s up?” I say, trying to
sound casual. Oh my God, he’s going to dump me. I know it.
“I’m so sorry, Emily,” he says. “I
know why you left the van.”
“You… you do?”
“Yeah.” Brody’s voice is husky. “I
didn’t smell Sean’s breath till we got out of the car. I mean, he always acts
like that, so it’s hard to tell from his behavior if he’s been drinking. I’m so
pissed off at him.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“Well,” Brody sighs. “Now you know
what we fight about.”
I stare at the phone. “Are you
saying he has a drinking problem?”
“He used to,” Brody admits. “It used
to be a huge problem. But he’s been good for a long time. His girlfriend of
like three years broke up with him a few months ago though, and it’s been…
hard. Not that it’s any excuse for driving drunk. I mean, especially after what
happened to me…”
He trails off, and I get this bad feeling
in my stomach. I haven’t asked him many details of how he got injured, because
I wanted to be respectful of his privacy and all, but I can’t not ask this question. “Brody,” I say. “Was
Sean driving drunk when you had your accident?”
He’s quiet for a long time. Finally,
he says, “Yeah. He was.”
I’m completely blown away. Brody’s
brother is responsible for him being a quadriplegic. How is it possible they’re
still speaking to each other? If someone did that to me, family or not, I would
never, ever forgive them. “Don’t you hate him?” I blurt out.
“Why?” Brody asks. “Because he
‘ruined’ my life?”
I don’t know what to say, so I keep
my mouth shut.
“My life isn’t bad, Emily,” he says.
“Yeah, I wish I didn’t have that accident. It makes things harder for me, to
say the least. But I’ve got a good life in a lot of ways. I’ve got a great job,
great friends, a great apartment, and now I’ve got… you.”
I swallow. “That’s true,” I manage.
“So yeah, I forgive him,” he goes
on. “Plus… well, being angry isn’t productive. And Sean helps me out a lot. I’d be in a lot worse shape if I
didn’t have him to pitch in when my PCAs need a vacation or something.”
Except he wouldn’t need those PCAs
if not for Sean. But I’m not going to point that out to him. If Brody’s made
peace with it, then I won’t begrudge him that. But for the record, I don’t like
Sean Nolan.
Thank you for the new chapter! Wasn't it so that in the first version Sean was very nasty towards Emily? I was dreading their first encounter but Sean's comment - “Quite a woman you got here, Bro.” - was like a a breath of fresh air! :) Maybe I'm wrong to like the nicer version of characters but I can't help it! :)
ReplyDeleteAlso, I don't remember their visit to the zoo, so whether it is a nice addition or you just made it memorable!
Can't wait for the next part and the whole story!
I don't think I made Sean nicer in this chapter, but he does end up being kind of a dick later!
DeleteI really loved this chapter. I kept wishing it didn't end and fortunately it lasted for a long time. I kept pausing and coming back during the day just to savor it.
ReplyDeleteI really liked their trip to the zoo, and my favorite part was, of course, the sunblock part on Brody's arms. Heh. Super sexy and devy scene. I keep finding him hotter and hotter, even though I'm not too into high quads. I guess I am now! You're a witch lol
I love your writing as always. Thank you for a long update!
Also, last chapter you said you felt like you've written everything and I gotta say—girl, there's nothing you'd write that I wouldn't read. I love your style and your characters, don't be afraid of doing your thing, even if it's with a supposedly unlikable character like The Bitch. You're amazing! Again, thank you for posting and just generally being amazing. I've been readinf your stuff for yearsss back when I could barely speak any english, and one of the reasons why I pushed myself was that I really wanted to read your books.
Looking forward to next week!
Wow, what an incredible compliment! You made my day!
DeleteNiiiiice! Loved their zoo trip, the sunscreen part was definitely hot. And Brody's brother seems like... Something else lol really looking forward to seeing where this leads.
ReplyDeleteThanks!
DeleteOh god, I don't like Sean... Yet. Hahaha Love Brody tho, he seems adorable and well adjusted, boyish but also mature? I really like his character.
ReplyDeleteI like him too, obviously!
Delete