On the Fence(4)

“Did you explain to your grandma that we’re in the middle of a game?” I asked.

“She died.”

“Oh.”

A round of groans and apologies went around the group. Dave looked like he was in shock, his eyes glassed over.

“How old was she?” I asked.

He absently ran his hand along his shoulder. “Seventy-something. I’m not sure.”

“What happened?”

“She’s had cancer for about a year. We knew this was coming. We just weren’t sure when.”

“That sucks.” I rubbed my hands together and looked around. Everyone just stood there, not sure what to say. “Should we finish the game, then?”

Braden elbowed me in the side.

“What? It will get his mind off it. And we only have five minutes left. We can’t quit now.”

“Charlie,” Jerom said in his official big-brother scold, at the same time Nathan took one of my arms and Braden took the other, dragging me away from the group.

“What’s the big de—” I couldn’t finish my sentence because Braden clamped his hand over my mouth.

“We, of all people, should understand this,” Nathan said under his breath. “Show a little empathy.”

I bit down on Braden’s finger and he let go. Then I yanked free of their hold. “What should I understand about some lady dying of a disease she’d been fighting?”

Braden reached out, probably trying to cover my mouth again. I stepped out of his reach.

“Shhh!” Nathan hissed, looking over his shoulder. “You should understand that—”

“Fine. Whatever. Tell Dave I’m sorry.” With that, I turned and ran, taking the path around the park, then farther. Why should I understand what Dave was going through? Because someone in his life had died, like someone in my life had? Our situations were nothing alike. My mom had been thirty-one when she died. I hardly got to know her at all. I got a measly six years with her. Six years I didn’t even remember.

The tightness in my chest made it hard to breathe, which made it hard to run. And that made me angry. Running was never hard for me. I forced myself to run until I could breathe normally again. It took a while.

By the time I got home, the sun was high in the sky and I was covered in sweat. Braden stood in my front yard. His wet-from-a-shower auburn hair looked black. He was a little taller than my brothers, which made him lankier, yet his broad shoulders made it obvious he was an athlete. “Hey, feel better?” he asked.

“Smell better?” I said with a smile.

“So that’s a yes?”

“I’m fine. Apparently, I’m just a jerk, but we all knew that.”

Braden cringed. He hated the word jerk. It’s what we all called his dad—well, what Braden called him, and we all agreed. It was as if he felt that word belonged to his dad and was too big of an insult to assign to anyone else.

“So is Dave okay?”

“Jerom drove him home, so I’m sure he’s fine.”

“What’s up with Jerom? Two years in college and suddenly he’s all fatherly?”

“Your brother has always been a good listener.”

He has? And why would Braden know that? I pointed to his driveway and the white work truck parked there. “Your dad got off early today?”

He waved his hand through the air, swatting away the question that apparently didn’t merit a verbal response, then turned back to me. “What are you doing right now?”

“Showering.” I reached my front door then turned around. “See ya.”

He stopped me by saying, “We’re going out for my mom’s birthday tonight. I figured I better go to the mall and find her a present.”

“Probably a good idea.”

My hand was on the doorknob when he asked, “Any ideas for what to get her?”

“You’re asking me?” I laughed. “Funny.”

“I could use a girl’s opinion.”

“Then you better go find one.”

“Well, opinion or not, you want to come?”

“To the mall?” I turned around. He had a look in his eye. Braden may have been a wild card, but I could still read him most of the time, and right now he felt sorry for me. Pity made me angry. “Look, Braden, I’m fine, okay?” And apparently if I needed to talk, Jerom’s ear was available.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine.” His eyes seemed to say, Perhaps you do have a cold, cold heart, Charlie. I couldn’t have agreed more.





Chapter 3

Nathan was in charge of dinner that night and had just pulled some sort of pasta-and-meat dish out of the oven, timing it perfectly with my dad’s arrival. Kiss-up. As my dad walked into the kitchen from the garage, he found where I sat at the table and narrowed his eyes at me. I wondered which one of my brothers had tattled and why my dad was so upset about it. For heaven’s sake, what was everyone’s problem? If I had started crying over Dave’s grandma my life would’ve been a whole lot easier right then. Maybe I needed to practice some fake waterworks.

My dad was a nice guy and most of the time a pushover, but when he was in his full police garb and had that look on his face, he terrified me. He hung his keys on a hook by the door, then unbuckled and hung his utility belt as well, the heavy flashlight banging the wall as he did. “Charlie . . . ,” he said in a tired voice.