Pete
The fire is hot against my legs, making them itch. I scratch, the sting of my fingernails easing some of the discomfort. I have been sitting here since she left, and it’s been a little while. For a few minutes there I thought she might come back. Hell, it’s probably entirely in my head; she’s not interested in me. I look at the big house where she lives. It’s f*cking perfect. White picket fence. Acres of land. Rolling pastures. A regular Anne of Green Gables. I didn’t read the book. I watched the PBS series when my mom was watching it. It came on after Sesame Street. There was nothing else to do but sit with her and watch it. My brothers gave me a hard time about it, but I didn’t care.
The log I’m sitting on shakes as someone sits down beside me. My heart leaps until I realize it’s just Phil. He runs a hand through his too-long hair and groans. “How’s it going, Pete?” he asks.
The fire is just embers now. It’s still hot, but it’s not flaming. “Going okay.”
“You did a good job tonight.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“The camp actually starts tomorrow.” He looks at me. “You ready?”
“I guess.” I shrug and kick at a rock with my toe.
“Did I see you talking with Bob?”
I look up. “Who’s that?”
He points toward the big house. “Bob Caster. The owner of the farm.”
“Oh, yeah.” I’ve never heard him called Bob. “He caught me talking to Reagan.” I smile. Just the thought of her makes me grin, and I haven’t laid a finger on her.
Phil whistles. “Better be careful. I’ve seen him take down boys a lot bigger than you.”
I snort. I can’t see that happening.
“You remind me of him when he was younger. He was a big, scary kid with a whole lot of attitude.”
“You’ve known him that long?”
“Twenty-five years ago, he was you.” He nods when I look at him.
“Me?”
“Straight out of prison, full of piss and vinegar, and ready for a fight. He had an attitude bigger than anybody’s I ever met.” He laughs. “I was his parole officer.”
“Wow,” I say. “What did he do to end up in prison?”
He shrugs. “Stupid mistake, just like yours.”
“And I don’t have an attitude,” I correct. I’ve behaved myself pretty well. My brothers will kick my ass if I’m disrespectful. Particularly Paul.
“You have a real talent with kids. Particularly special needs kids. You ever consider social work? You could help a lot of people.”
I’ve never really given it any thought. I’ve been afraid to plan a future for fear that something or someone would step in my path before I could start walking. “I don’t know,” I hedge.
“Think about it. You have time.” He pauses for moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. “What are your plans after this?” he asks.
I shrug. “Maybe college. I don’t know.” I got my GED behind bars, but college is expensive and we don’t have much money. “I work with my brothers at the tattoo shop.” I look up at the big house. A light just came on in an upstairs window. I wonder if it’s Reagan’s room. Phil smiles when he sees the direction of my gaze. “What’s going on with Reagan?” he asks.
“Nothing.” Yet.
“You like her?” He’s like a dog with a bone. Going to gnaw that bitch into submission.
I shrug.
“Be careful with her, okay?” he asks.
“Why? What’s wrong with her?” Does everyone know what happened to her?
“She’s wary of men.”
“Then she’s in the perfect f*cking place to stay away from them.” A camp full of men and boys. That’s smart.
“She’s here for the kids.”
“I’m here for the kids, too,” I remind him.
He nods. “Just be careful.”
I plan to.
He stands up and stretches.
“It feels odd, being out here,” I say quietly. For two years, I’ve been locked in a cell. “I don’t quite know what to do with myself.” I look around. “Particularly with all this wide-open space.”
For two years, I had no choices. I ate when people told me to eat and showered when people told me to shower. This place is the opposite of confinement, and I’m feeling a little out of sorts about it.
Phil sits back down. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“You going to pretend to be Dr. Phil now?” I bite back a snort. Something about the seriousness of his face stops my next comment.
“How are your relationships with your brothers?” he asks. I’d rather talk about the f*cking feelings.
“Fine,” I bite out.
“You have four, right?”
I nod. “Three older—Paul, Matt and Logan. And one my age—Sam. My twin. Except he’s in college right now on a scholarship to play football, and I’m here.”
“Why don’t you sound bitter about that?” he asks.
Sam was with me when I got caught unloading that truck. We both were there. We took some odd jobs from a man in our neighborhood. Yeah, it was illegal, and yeah, I got caught. But Sam was with me when it went down. I told him to run. I got caught. I went to jail. And Sam didn’t. Sam’s playing football and living the life I wanted. “I’m not bitter at all,” I grind out. It’s not Sam’s fault that I was also carrying a backpack full of drugs. I got busted for possession with the intent to sell. I’m going to be a felon for the rest of my life.
Phil nods. The quiet is suddenly oppressive. Not at all like it was when Reagan was out here. “Matt’s the one who was sick?” he asks.
I don’t like to talk about Matt. He almost died, and it took money to get him into a chemical trial. The trial saved his life, at least for now. He may need more treatment. That’s why I was working with Bone, the man who owned the goods I was unloading. He’s also the man who gave me the drugs to sell. He’s the reason I’m here. Well, I’m the reason I’m here. But still. “Yeah, Matt was sick.”
“How’s he doing now?”
Matt writes to me every week. He tells me all the stories about my brothers and Emily, and he says he’s all right. But I have no way of knowing if it was all sunshine and rainbows when I was gone. When I got home last night, things were fine. And Sam was away at college. “Better,” I say.
“And the rest of them?”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath because he’s looking at me like he’s waiting for me to tell him my life story. “Logan’s getting married.” A grin tugs at my lips. “I f*cking love his fiancée. She’s pretty damn cool. Her name is Emily, and she plays the guitar. She’s good for him.”
“Their lives went on without you,” he says. He doesn’t look at me or change his expression.
“Were they supposed to wait for me to get out before living their lives?” I ask, and I know my tone is caustic, but I can’t help it.
“Were they?”
I snort. “I love them too much to ask them to do anything like that.” I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“How about Sam?” he asks, his voice soft.
Just his name makes my gut twist. He’s the other half of me. We’ve been together since we were born. We shared a room right up until I got arrested. Losing him was like losing a part of myself. “I haven’t seen Sam since the sentencing hearing,” I say quietly.
“He was there for it?”
I nod. He was there for everything. But I refused to talk to him. I refused to answer his letters, until he finally stopped writing them. I refused to see him when he came to visit, until he stopped coming.
“Why are you mad at him?” He makes a tsk, tsk, tsk sound with his mouth. “You are bitter about being the only one arrested.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”
“Then what is it?”
I’ve never said it out loud. “I’m f*cking jealous, all right?” I snarl. He raises an eyebrow at me, but he doesn’t shrink away. I heave a sigh and force myself to unclench my fists. “He didn’t get caught.” I punch myself in the chest with my fist. “I f*cking got caught. Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I mutter to myself.
“Did he know you were dealing?” he asks.
I shake my head. No one knew. I’d just picked up the bag that night. Hadn’t even made a sale yet. I’d just about convinced myself to return it to Bone and then we got busted.
“Why’d you do it?”
I take a deep, cleansing breath. “Matt’s treatment was expensive. I couldn’t think of any other way to help him.”
He nods. It’s a slow up and down movement of his head. He doesn’t look at me or say anything.
“You don’t know what it’s like to know your brother’s going to die and there’s nothing you can f*cking do to help him.” I force myself to unclench my fists again.
“No, I don’t,” he admits. “Did you do drugs, too? Or just deal them?”
I snort. “Paul would lay into me like nothing you ever saw if I even thought about doing drugs.”
“I think I like Paul,” he says. He finally looks at me and smiles. “It sounds like you have a pretty good support system for when you go home.” He rubs his hands together quickly. “Five more days!”
I smile. “Five days,” I repeat.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he says.
“Like I could stop you,” I mutter.
He grins. “True.” He pauses for a minute. “Don’t be afraid to make plans, Pete,” he says. “Make lots of plans. Because it’s only when you don’t have any plans that you’ll forget where you’re headed. Write them down. Make them real. Then go for them. Follow through.”
I nod. “Okay.” I look down at the tracking bracelet that’s on my ankle. “While we’re here, am I free? Can I walk around and go places by myself?”
He nods. “I’ll know where you are if I need to find you. But yes, you can consider yourself free.” He coughs into his closed fist. “Just be careful with Reagan,” he warns. He holds up a hand when I start to protest. “You’re twenty-one years old. And you’ve been in jail for two years. And I’m guessing you gave up your V card a long time ago.” He clears his throat. “Just remember that there’s more to it than the pleasure of the moment.”
Now I want to f*ck with him. “Do tell, Dr. Phil.”
“Life’s not about the moments of pleasure you, yourself, can experience. It’s about the pleasurable moments you share with someone else that really matter.”
Shit. That was pretty profound. “Yes, sir,” I say.
“What happened to your dad, Pete?” he asks.
“He left after our mom died.”
“He missed out on something pretty f*cking great with you, kid,” he says. “He could have stayed and experienced all those missed moments with you and your brothers, and his life would have been richer for it.”
“My life was fine.” I doubt it would have been different if he’d stayed. Paul would have still taken care of us. He always has.
“Moments of pleasure you can give to someone else,” he says, tapping his forehead. “Ask yourself before you do it who’s going to benefit.”
“Yes, sir.”
He points toward the big house. “Speaking of moments,” he says, grinning. “At this moment, someone is sneaking out to the barn.” He squeezes my knee as he gets up. “You’re welcome,” he says with a laugh as he walks away.
I look toward the barn and see a female form walking quickly toward the big building in the distance. I look around. The camp is quiet, and everyone is in bed. I watch her as she slides through an open door and closes it behind her.
I wonder if she could use some company.