Break(14)

She swings out of the car and leans against the door. The sleeves of my sweatshirt she’s stolen cover her fingers. “Hey, Jess.”

He throws her the basketball. She catches it in her tiny hands and throws it back.

“Ready to go?” she says. “Jesus, I can hear the baby from here.”

“Want to see him?”

“Not at all.”

Jess wrinkles his forehead, dribbling the ball between his legs. “Where are you going?”

I wave my good hand in his face. “Work to do.”

He holds the ball. “You’re kidding.”

I shrug.

“Jonah, don’t. Shit, man. Mom and Dad are going to freak out.”

“I know they will. I’ll make sure you’re out of the room first.”

“You.” Jess nods at Naomi. “You let him do this?”

She shrugs and bites her knuckle. “What am I supposed to do? It’s his body. He can do what he wants.”

I tilt my head at Jesse.

“Don’t do this now,” he says.

“What, like there’s going to be a better time than now?”

“You shouldn’t do this anytime, idiot.”

I glance toward the house. “Hush up, all right? Mom’s going to hear you.”

He exhales. “I have half a mind to tell them what you’re doing.”


“Yeah, good thing that other half is smart enough to keep your damn mouth shut. Look. I’ll be fine. So just be a good little brother and keep quiet for Mom and Dad, okay?”

He says, “This is the last one I’m letting you do.”

“I’ll call in about an hour, all right?”

I clamber into Naomi’s car and put my feet on the dashboard. The bend hurts my ribs, but it’s worth it. “Just drive away, okay? I don’t want to look at him.”

She listens, but when we’re halfway out of the neighborhood, she says, “You’re hurting him.”

My ears are free of baby wail. “I am. Not. Hurting him.”

She knows enough to shut up.

We park behind the old fire station. Naomi wants me to get really drunk, but I know they’ll do a blood-alcohol check at the hospital and I don’t want to get in trouble. So we take just one beer each and sip while we sit on the hood of her car. Our feet dangle over the windows.

“You scared?” she asks.

I nod. “This one’s going to hurt.”

“At least it’ll be over quick. And it’ll definitely look like an accident.”

“How bad is it going to be?”

“Well, it’s going to hurt, Jonah. It’ll be bloody.”

I exhale. “Shit.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“It’s not going to be the best video. Who the hell wants to watch some idiot break his hand in a car door?”

She squirms inside my sweatshirt. “Yeah, but the video’s not the point, is it?”

Of course it’s not, but I didn’t think she knew this.

“All right, Jo.” She drains the remains of her beer and clonks the empty can onto the hood. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit.” She sets the camera up on the tripod and does all her tech-girl shit, because I guess the video still matters a little bit.

I hop down and open the driver’s side door. “Shit,” I breathe.

“It’s going to be fine.” She comes back and places her hand on my shoulder. “Put your hand in.”

I take one last look at my unbroken, imperfect hand and place it in the seam between the door and its frame. I wiggle my fingers.

“Now?” Naomi says, poised on the handle.

“No. Not yet.”

“Jonah.”

“Just wait a second.”

I puff air in and out of my mouth, trying to build up some kind of courage. I can do this. It’s worth it. You’ll be better because of it, Jonah. I breathe.

“Now?” she says.

My cell phone starts vibrating. “Hold on.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. NEW TEXT MESSAGE. I swallow. “It’s from Mom.”

Text messages from Mom are always the same thing. It’s always Jesse.

I shouldn’t have left. Shit. My chest starts jumping.

Naomi says, “Does she want you home?”

I flip it open to read the text message.

JESSE 911

Yeah. And I can’t breathe anymore.

Jesse.

I left him at home with Mom and the dirty house and the baby vomit and he had hives when I left, he had hives and I left him alone.

Naomi says, “Does she need you to pick up some baby food for your perfect family—”

“Naomi, shut up.”

She bristles. “What?”

“It’s Jesse.”

I hear her pause, and when she talks she sounds like a little girl. “Is he okay?”

I look up. “When I say, ‘It’s Jesse’ in that voice, is he ever okay?”

“God, Jonah, I’m—”

“Shit!” I yell, and slap my hands up to my eyes. The cast scrapes me—goddamn cast—so I slam it against the firehouse wall. “Fuck!” I yell, pounding my arm on the brick, punching it, hitting it, asking it why the hell I’m here and not with my brother. “Fuck f*ck shit shit shit shit shit! He’s in the hospital, Naomi!”