You'd Be Home Now (98)

I pull out my phone, my hands shaking in the cold, my lips still tingling from the kiss.


Em

It’s me Max

I’m at a house in Franklin Township, 3722 Bolton He’s here

Out of it but here

I don’t know for how long tho



“Oh my god,” I say to Daniel. “It’s Max deVos. He knows where Joey is.”

My fingers tremble as I text back.


Max, stay there, please please don’t let him leave please I’ll try but get here quick



Daniel takes my phone from me. “Let’s go. You can call your parents in the car.”

We run, slipping down the icy sidewalk to Daniel’s car. We have to sit for a minute, waiting for it to heat up. I call my dad. He picks up on the first ring.

“Emory? Are you all right?”

“Dad, Joey is at a house in Franklin Township. I’m driving there now with Daniel. You and Mom meet us there.”

“Your mother got delayed in the city. She was meeting with NewDay to hear their proposal about the Mill. The snow is heavier there. She’s waiting it out. Text me the address. And Emory, please drive carefully. The weather.”

I hang up, text him the address.

“This could go either way,” Daniel says softly, starting the car.

“I know,” I say, steeling myself.

    Struggle and joy, I tell myself. Like Simon Stanley said. There’s struggle and there’s joy.



* * *



—

3722 Bolton is a beat-up house at the end of a dead-end street. Max has been texting me the whole drive, letting me know Joey is still there.

Daniel and I sit in the car, looking at the house. My dad isn’t here yet.

Here, I text Max.

“Well,” Daniel says. “What do you want to do? Should we just…walk in?”

Before I can answer, there’s a tap at my window. Daniel and I both jump.

It’s Max deVos, blowing on his bare hands to keep them warm.

I open the door and get out.

“I was looking for him,” he says. “You know, all this time. Different places.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Max, thank you.”

“He doesn’t look good, Emmy. He’s kind of…gone. It’s hard to explain. He’s in a room in the back with some guys. Don’t…like, don’t make a big deal when you come in, okay? Just act like you came to, you know…”

“What?”

“Like, get high. I mean, I’m not. I haven’t, for a while. But I know how this stuff works, in places like this.”

I nod and follow him up the walk to the front door, Daniel behind me.

It’s musty inside from cigarette smoke. There are a bunch of people on a couch in the front room, smoking bowls and watching a movie. A couple of people are sitting on the floor, backs against the wall, zoned out. Daniel holds the back of my coat with his fingers, gently.

    Max nods to the people he passes.

I don’t know if this is going to be like the movies, where a seedy-looking person jumps out at us and asks us what we want in a threatening voice, but I also know that I’ve done a lot of things I was scared of lately, and I can handle this. I can handle this because Joey is down this long hallway in a room, very close to me, and I need to get to him, whatever happens.

Max opens the door.

What did I think? That I would walk into a room with people shoving needles in their arms? Vomiting? Guzzling from liters of vodka? Maybe.

But it’s just a room with a couch and a huge flat-screen and a couple of guys playing Apex Legends, silently, blinking slowly, my brother on the floor, watching.

He doesn’t have the gray hoodie anymore and now his hair has grown out so much it covers his large ears. He’s got his hands stuffed in the pockets of a worn wool suit coat, the kind old men wear to play chess in the park on a cool day. He’s sniffling. He looks drowsy, like at any moment he might fall into a restful, deep sleep.

Max sits on the couch with the other guys, picks up a controller. Daniel hangs back, by the door.

“Hey, Joey,” I say softly. My knee aches a little as I bend to sit next to him.

His face drifts to mine. “Emmy. Emmy. Oh, no, why are you here? No, no.”

    He shakes his head back and forth.

“Joey,” I say. I slide my hand into his jacket pocket, curl my fingers around his. “It’s okay. It’s all right.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this. Never,” he says.

“I don’t mind.”

“I let you down.”

“No,” I say firmly. “No. Never.”

His fingers, ever so slightly, tighten around mine in his pocket.

“I’m tired,” he says.

“Me too.”

“I read…your stuff. I just want you to know that. Luther showed me.”

He starts to cry, his head falling against my shoulder. Inside my jacket pocket, I feel my phone ping. It has to be Dad. He should probably not come into the house. I angle my head to Daniel and then to my pocket. He comes over and bends down, slides the phone out, very easy, like Joey is something that shouldn’t be startled. My dad, I mouth, shake my head.