He grins like he’s relieved I’m calling him that. I notice dimples digging into his tan cheeks. There’s a part of me that wants to nudge my pointer finger into one of them because they’re so cute.
“I’m not Superman. Clark Kent, maybe. Not Superman.”
“Yeah, okay.” I smile.
Evan kicks the front of his flip-flop against the edge of our welcome mat.
“So did you learn to play the guitar yet?” I ask.
“Nope.” He laughs. “Did you write any songs?”
“Oh, yeah. Dozens.”
“I better pick up the pace then.” He grins and those dimples show up again. “But right now, I better go do my homework. This trigonometry class is way ahead of where we were at my old school.”
“Trig, huh? So are you a junior?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Same.” I don’t tell him I’m already in calculus and that math is the one of the few subjects I haven’t let slip.
“Well, you need to get well so you can show me around town, okay? I don’t know anybody here.”
I think about how fun that would’ve been a year ago. When I was the way I was before. I would’ve taken him to Clyde’s Coffee for frozen hot chocolate. And I would’ve shown him the strip of beach where the locals hang out and the tourists don’t. I would’ve shown him which hill it was fun to ride down on your bike, and I would’ve let go of my handlebars and let my arms fly out like wings while the wind whipped past my ears. And on a Saturday night, I would’ve taken him to a party and leaned into him so his lips would’ve been close to my ear when he talked. That move always worked. I would’ve shown him the alcove in the hallway by the auditorium at school where I used to think I could hide and nobody would find me. I would’ve shown him my world. Now, I can’t show him anything but a tiny apartment and a girl who can’t walk out the front door.
“I don’t get out much. But thanks for the soup. I’m sure it’ll taste really good.”
Before he can say anything, I shut the door and leave him behind it.
chapter three
Ben loves pancakes. It’s our Friday morning ritual, and I wake him up fifteen minutes early to make sure it happens. Today, he climbs onto a stool at the counter and I let him pour the milk and crack an egg into the batter. He stirs and talks. He tells me about kids at school and the words he’s learning to spell. He talks about the library and how the section about science is his favorite.
“There’s a book about electricity,” he says. “And another one about rocks. Rocks are cool. Did you know diamonds can cut glass?”
Pancake mornings with Ben are the best. We eat breakfast and chat until my mom hustles him out the door to drop him off at his before-school program. She runs around the apartment and talks at the same time.
“Don’t forget we’ll be late tonight. I’m taking Ben to a birthday party.” She stops. She stands. She puts her hands on her hips and looks up and down and all around. “Ben, where’s the gift?”
“I dunno. You wrapped it.”
She runs off to find it. I hand Ben his lunch and ruffle the top of his just-combed hair. “Hey, sneak me a piece of cake if you can. Especially if it’s chocolate.”
I bend down to zip up his sweatshirt and he plants a wet kiss on my cheek. He grabs me around the neck and holds on tight. “Rawwwwwr. I’m a dinosaur. I’ve got you. Rawwwwwr. You can’t get away.”
I stand up, pretending to struggle under his grasp. He stays put, dangling from my neck like a mess of fat gold chains on a rap star. I swing him around the living room and he laughs. Then I bend down and plant a bunch of kisses on top of his head, tickling him until he loosens his grip and I can slide him back down to the floor. He struggles to stand straight, winded from laughing.
“Have a good day,” I tell him. “Don’t spend the whole time reading about rocks. Listen to your teacher. Be nice.”
“I am nice.”
My mom hands Ben the gift so he can carry it to the car, then does one final tug on the bun on top of her head.
“Do something,” she tells me. “Even something small.”
And they’re out the door. And the house is empty. And quiet. I can breathe.
*
I take a shower. I comb my hair and part it. I put on clean pajama pants and a soft T-shirt from a concert I went to once.