Bring Me Back(27)

Normally, I’d make a joke right about now, but I don’t feel like it. Instead, I stand there mute.

“Come on, let’s look at the clothes,” my mom says, ushering me over to the left. “This would be nice on you,” she points at a flowery summer dress—and please, someone explain to me why companies put out summer clothes in the middle of winter; no one’s thinking about hot days when there’s a foot of snow on the ground.

I make a face and move on down the aisle. Not even retail therapy can pull me out of this funk. I commend my mom for trying, though. God, she’s trying so hard. Bless her heart.

“How about this?” She holds up another dress, this one a little more weather-appropriate. It’s cobalt blue with long sleeves. I actually like it, but I only shrug in response. She sighs and puts it in the cart anyway. That almost plucks a smile from me.

“Here, Kid,” my dad says, appearing with a large bag of popcorn and two drinks.

I take mine and mutter, “Thanks.”

My mom throws her hands in the air. “Why do you talk to him and not me?”

My dad looks over his shoulder at her. “Because Maureen, I don’t irritate the girl like you do.”

She sighs for probably the fiftieth time that day. “I’m not irritating,” she argues.

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

“Guys,” I interject, “please stop. And Mom, you are irritating—” her face falls “—but I know you mean well.” She brightens at this. “Thank you for trying.”

She smiles, and I know I’ve said the right thing.

We walk around the rest of the store and checkout. On the way home, my dad veers off course.

“Dan?” my mom questions, but he doesn’t answer her. He continues driving like the two of us aren’t staring a hole into his head.

When he stops in front of the café, I nearly have a heart attack.

“Get out of the car, Kid.”

All the blood drains for my body. At least it feels that way.

“No.”

“Kid,” he warns, “get out of the car before I drag your ass out. Your friends are waiting.”

My eyes flit from the front of the café to my dad. “How?” I ask.

“You left your phone on the couch and you got a text—I’m a sneaky bastard, so I read it. Your friends miss you and want to see you, so I pretended to be you and said you’d meet them for lunch.”

I glare at my dad. “You’re worse than Mom. You’re like the sneaky snake that waits in the grass to get you when you least expect it.”

He smirks. “Yeah, that’s me. Sneaky Snake. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” he asks my mom.

“It’s perfect,” she agrees.

“I don’t want to go,” I argue. “I can’t see them.”

My dad sighs. “Five minutes, Kid. That’s all I ask. We’ll wait right here for you.”

My lips press together in distaste. I haven’t seen my friends since the funeral, and I barely spoke five words to them then.

“Out of the car.” My dad points to the car door. “You do this thing where you wrap your hand around the handle there and push. Then the door does this magical thing called open. Try it.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” I put my hand on the knob. “I’m going. See? Bye.”

“Good girl.” My dad winks. “I’ll give ya a sticker later.”

I crack a small smile. When I was a little girl, my dad used to give me stickers for every little accomplishment. Get an A on a paper? Here’s a sticker, Kid. Win the Spelling Bee? Here’s a sticker, Kid.

I head inside the café and find Casey, Chloe, and Hannah waiting for me.

They all flash me a small smile as I approach. My favorite sandwich and coffee is already waiting for me. I take a seat and wave awkwardly.

“How have you been?” Casey asks me.

“Not good.” I frown. My hands are shaking so I press them in-between my legs.

“Stupid question, huh?” Casey says.

I shrug.

“I brought by some food; your mom answered the door and said you were sleeping. I hope it was okay. You know I’m not the best cook,” Casey says.

I didn’t even know she brought food. I’m sure my mom told me, and I probably ignored her. I don’t even know if I ate any since I’ve barely been able to stomach anything. When I do eat, I tend to throw it up. I’m too upset to keep anything down.

“Yeah, it was good,” I lie.

“Great.” Casey breathes out a sigh of relief.

We all sort of stare at each other and then Chloe loses it. She begins to cry. “I’m so sorry, Blaire. This is all so tragic and sad.”

Her tears signal all the rest of us and we all sit at the table in the café bawling our eyes out. Somehow, we end up in a group huddle, holding each other as we cry.

As much as I hate breaking down in public, I need this. I need it so much. I need to cry. I need to be angry. I need to let it out.

“I’m so mad,” I say through my tears. “Why Ben? He didn’t deserve this. He’s so good.”

“I know,” Hannah says. “It’s not right.”