Life In Reverse(31)

Again he grins, this time around a mouthful of pancake. “Yup.”

I cringe as if I’m disgusted, even though I’m smiling. “Yuck.”

He stabs a piece of pancake and holds it up, the syrup dripping onto the table. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

I block him with one hand, lifting my turkey burger with the other. “No thanks.”

“You’re missing out,” he counters, making a big show of swirling his pancake in gobs of butter and syrup.

My face contorts in a crazy way and he chuckles as he continues to eat. Without thinking, I tell him, “I like it when you laugh.”

He stops chewing, his grin long gone and I think I might have ruined the rare carefree moment we were having. In fact, I know I did when he replies, “It’s not okay for me.”

I set my burger down, giving him my full attention. “What do you mean?”

“To be happy. Not when my mother is rotting away in there.”

A crushing vulnerability shades his eyes and it resonates in my core. I realize that nobody has ever made it okay for him—to carry on, to live, to breathe. My hand goes to my chest, trying to push back the swell of emotion that wants to escape. For reasons I don’t fully understand, I suddenly want to make it okay for him. “Oh, Vance. You’ve got it all wrong. That woman in there, the one that I saw… she would want you to be happy.” I watch him as he tosses my words around in his head, trying to see if they make sense. And then, because I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut, I add, “Well, I like your laugh. And your smile, too. If I’m honest. Which,” I wink, “I always am.”

He attempts to smother a smile, but it’s like a beam of light across his face.

“You see. Now I’m two for two.”





THIS GIRL. I don’t know what to make of her. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend—certainly not one that’s a girl anyway. She throws me off my game. Not that I have a game. But what I do have is a way I live my life that works for me, and she’s chucking a wrench into it simply by existing. And I like that she exists. I also like the way I feel around her. I want to devour her honesty and soak up her sincerity. I’d like to know more about what makes her tick.

“I think I deserve some kind of a medal.” Ember and I approach the car after a visit to this woman Kasia’s house to discuss topics that put me to sleep. “I just listened to you two talk about cinnamon rolls and bakery shit for over an hour. Not to mention the half-hour conversation about her poodles.”

Ember breaks up in a laugh as we both move toward the driver’s side. I shoo her away with my hand. “I’ll drive there, Mickey. You drove the whole way here. If you don’t mind me driving your car, that is.”

She stretches her arms above her head and yawns. “Nope. No problem here. I’ll handle the music.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I don’t know,” she retorts, plopping down onto the seat. “Should you be?”

I flip her a mock glare then back out of the driveway that looks like it could hold about thirty cars. Once we’re on the road and stopped at a red light, I peer over at her. “So Ember Bennett, what makes you tick?”

The air conditioning blows a piece of her hair around as she shifts to face me. “Lots of things, really.”

Red changes to green and my eyes return to the road. “Like?”

“Sculpting for one, but you already know that. I also love all kinds of art. I love to bake. And music to me is… everything.”

“Oh yeah,” I challenge. “Who’s your favorite band?”

“The Vines.”

Flipping on the blinker, I switch to the left hand lane. “Who?”

She breathes out a frustrated sound. “You don’t know who The Vines are?”

“Nope.”

Ember pops the glovebox and digs around before removing a CD and inserting it into the player. She places her hand in front of her, palm up, and announces, “I give you… The Vines.”

I appease her and listen for a few minutes. My thumb taps against the steering wheel, head bobbing slightly. “They’re not bad.” They’re actually better than not bad, but the smug look on her face makes me not want to give her the satisfaction.

“Not bad?” she huffs, so sure of herself I have to suppress a grin. “You’re practically dancing to it.”

“I don’t dance,” I confess, still trying to keep my smile in check.

“Keep telling yourself that.” She releases an airy laugh. “Okay, so who’s your favorite band?”

“Staind.”

“They’re pretty good.”

“Fucking A they are, Mickey.” From the side, I catch a glimpse of her smile. “Favorite food?”

“Lobster.”

I make a buzzer sound in my throat. “Gross.”

“I’ll have you know it’s quite delicious, especially dipped in butter. I would think you’d appreciate that last part.” She huffs again and I like that I’m getting a rise out of her. “Okay, let’s have it. What’s your favorite food?”

“Twinkies,” I answer with a huge grin on my face.