Invincible Summer(41)

Melinda says, “You’ll be back. I know you will.”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, I’ve got to stop doing this, messing this up—”

“But you’re so perfect.”

I stare at her.

She’s lying on her side, reaching out for me. She looks drunk, floundering around in the air. Like she’s trying to find me, like she can’t see that I’m right there.

She whispers, “‘Whatever it may say, our era is deserting this world.’”

I push past Bella as gently as I can.

Melinda says, “Wait, your shirt—”

“Keep it,” I say. “Keep it, God, it’s Noah’s.”

What’s weird is that nothing comes of it. Nobody explodes.

My parents have no idea what’s going on, or, if they do, they don’t take the time to confront Noah and me about it.

Noah and Melinda keep going exactly how they were. Bella completely ignores me, which doesn’t feel very different from usual. As far as I know, Shannon’s oblivious.

For a few days, it’s like Melinda and I have never slept together. Every time I talk to her, all she wants to talk about is Noah, and not in the sneaky, sexy way she used to. She comes to me asking for relationship advice. I think she’s trying to rub it in my face, then I realize that all her questions actually have more to do with Noah and me as brothers than her and Noah as . . . whatever they are. Maybe she’s the one who’s jealous of me.

I don’t tell her that my entire relationship with Noah is me making up rules that he has, for some reason, decided to follow.

“Where does he go?” she asks me.

“Nowhere special. The going is the important part.” I’m in the kitchen, scrubbing up the spills from the lunch I made for the kids. Now everyone, except Lucy, who’s fussy today, and lying on the couch crying, is on the beach with Shannon. My parents are at couple’s counseling—not getting back together, they keep telling us, though some part of us doesn’t believe them—and Noah’s run off somewhere. Everyone’s where they’re supposed to be. Except me and Melinda. And Bella. Wherever she is. I don’t care as much as I probably should.

“The journey is the destination?” she says.

She should stick to quoting Camus. It’s the only time she sounds smart. I say, “You’re going to have a fun time with Noah if you get it into your head that you’re supposed to keep track of him.”

She leans over the counter. “God. God, Lucy’s just screaming, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. She’s been doing this all day.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s . . . two, she’s really loud today. Luce! Quiet down, baby girl, okay?”

Melinda picks her head up and raises her eyebrows at me.

“Has she been in the water a lot?”

“I mean—”

“Maybe it’s her ears.”

“Her what?” I say, kind of ironically, I guess.

Melinda goes to the couch and kneels beside screaming

Lucy. “Lucy Lucy Lucy, can you sing something for me?” she says.

Lucy just ignores her, and I admire her ability to do so.

Melinda examines her anyway, pulling Lucy’s brown curls out of the way. “Christ, Chase, I knew it. Come look at her ears.” “Her ears are fine. Trust me. We’ve made pretty damn sure.”

“Yeah, well, now they’re red and infected.”

“What? Nooo.” I drop my sponge and basically leap over to the couch. Melinda shows me her ears, and God, she’s right. . . God, that must hurt like a bitch. . . .

“Shannon used to get them all the time when he was little,” Melinda says.

“So did Gideon. But I can’t remember what we did. . . .”

“Uh, antibiotics? And ear drops, probably. Where are your parents?”

“Remembering why they divorced each other.” God, I wish Noah were here. I pick Lucy up and cradle her. “Okay, we’ll borrow my dad’s car, okay? We’ll take her to the hospital—”

“There’s a hospital here?”

“Where do you think she was born, Candy Kitchen?”

Lucy’s car seat is at therapy with the parents, so Melinda holds her on her lap while I drive to the hospital. This is pretty thrilling for the little peanut, so she quiets down some, pressing her palms against the window.

I’m breathing way too fast. Melinda keeps telling me to slow down.

I know, logically, that Lucy’s going to be fine. I mean, little kids get ear infections all the time. Gideon got so many that Noah used to suggest we just cut the things off. But one of the consequences of having so many siblings is I’ve ever never been alone when one of them was sick before. Not even last year. Claudia never gets sick.

And now my hand that isn’t driving is clinging to Melinda’s thigh like I think she’s about to jump out of the car with my baby sister. The one who gets sick. The one I’m alone with right now, because Melinda doesn’t count.

Everything will be ruined forever if I don’t fix Lucy. We will miss her too much, and fall apart, and Mom will never trust me again, and Noah will know that he’s been wrong all along, thinking that I was trustworthy enough to play oldest brother for him.