Every Other Weekend(18)
“Come on, man.” There wasn’t a thread of irritation in Jeremy’s voice. Mom had clung to him, too. “We can call her after dinner. Tomorrow and Sunday, too.” And then he added my bag to his before shutting the trunk. That was the Everest of goodwill as far as Jeremy was concerned.
Two years ago, I’d have appreciated the gesture.
Two years ago, Greg would have not only smoothed out our rough edges but made us forget they’d been there in the first place.
Two years ago, Dad hadn’t moved out and I wasn’t standing in a pothole-ridden parking lot while my mom spent yet another weekend bereft of her sons. I was a second away from slamming the car door hard enough to royally piss off Jeremy when another slamming car door beat me to the punch.
“Jolene! I’m not done talking to you!”
I looked and saw Jolene walking away from a red sports car with her bag over one shoulder and her braid dangling over the other. She turned, walking backward so that she could respond to Shelly, who was standing by the open driver’s-side door.
“But you really, really should be.”
Shelly’s door slammed shut just as hard as Jolene’s had. “It’s not my fault that your mother threw a glass at my head.”
I felt my eyes widen and glanced over to see Jeremy’s do the same.
“No, but you should have stayed in the car,” Jolene said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Doors locked, engine running. That’s what you do.”
“You were supposed to be outside waiting for me.”
Jolene stopped. She even took a few steps toward Shelly, and I noticed how frayed her braid looked. “But you don’t want to know why I wasn’t, do you? You don’t want to know that she got drunk and tackled me to the ground when the doorbell rang, or that, before that, she tried to poison me just enough to keep me in bed for the weekend. You don’t want to know any of that, because you can’t tell my dad or his lawyer without risking the courts deciding that I’m better off living here full-time.”
Jeremy and I both swiveled our heads toward Shelly and watched her face turn several shades of red before she looked away.
“Right,” Jolene said, turning back to the apartment. “That’s why you need to be done talking to me.” She yanked open the door, and that was when she finally caught sight of Jeremy and me. To her credit, her expression didn’t change at all. She held my gaze long enough for my face and neck to flame hot, and then she went inside. A moment later, Shelly slunk in after her.
“Still feel like complaining about your life?” Jeremy asked, letting his shoulder bang into mine as he headed for the doors.
* * *
Jolene held up a finger to her lips when I opened the door to my room and found her sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bed.
I halted with my hand on the door, staring at her and trying to decide if I was hallucinating. Then the sound of Dad and Jeremy talking spurred me into motion and into the room. I pulled the door shut behind me and locked it. “What are you doing here? How did you even get in?”
She lowered her voice to match mine. “I adopted your technique for scaling balconies. Though let me just say it’s much more difficult without your height advantage. Also, wet metal is super slippery. Did you know that?”
I half shook my head. “Wait, start with the why.”
“Am I here?” She pointed to the bed she still sat on. “In your room?”
I widened my eyes in confirmation before darting them back to the door I was basically barricading with my body. If Dad or Jeremy heard her... But then, Jeremy had already heard her—we both had—down in the parking lot. When she’d said all that stuff about her mom. My gaze slid more slowly over her. I’d noticed her messy braid before, but up close I could see that strands and tangles stuck out everywhere, and one knee on her jeans was torn—and not in a way that looked deliberate. Plus, there was a scrape on her cheek. “Is that all from your mom?” I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice.
“What?” Then she looked down at herself and half laughed. “Oh, right. No. My hair is mostly from the wind trying to fling me off the side of the building while I was climbing the railing, the scrape is from getting up close and personal with the apartment wall, and the torn jeans are from when I tumbled onto your balcony. It was all very graceful.”
I wasn’t sure I completely believed her but before I could ask anything else, a fist pounded on the door.
“Adam. Get out here. We’re going to dinner.”
I looked at the door, then back at Jolene. More pounding.
“Hey, open up. Let’s go.”
She raised her eyebrows at me, as if she was merely curious as to how I’d handle the situation of hiding a girl in my room while my dad and brother stood right outside the door. Considering that she’d risked much more than a broken leg climbing onto my balcony, the least I could do was blow off my brother.
“Can’t. I feel sick.” I stood up, took a few steps toward the door, and half turned my back to her.
“You are such a little—” The doorknob rattled as Jeremy tried to force it open. Dad asked what the problem was and the rattling stopped. “It’s fine. Adam’s sick though. We had to pull over on the way here so he could puke.”