Lucas
Page 23
I was almost afraid to go downstairs, to see my dad, to see his reaction to the song. But when I landed on the seventh step down, just enough so I could see the living room from my spot, I saw the lights dim, the original record playing, and Laney in Dad’s arms, dancing amongst her many gifts scattered around the floor. “She’ll be all ready for you come senior prom,” Dad called out to me. Smiling.
I sat on the stairs, watched them through the gaps of the staircase. The song played on, and my brothers and I sat in awe as we watched my best friend give my dad a reason to smile, and we took a moment to miss our mother and to appreciate Laney for every single thing she brought to the family.
I helped Laney carry all her presents to her room, where Brian was waiting for us. “How was your night?” he asked.
Laney hadn’t stopped smiling. “I tried lobster!” she announced.
Brian laughed. “Did you like it?”
She scrunched her nose, dumped the presents on her bed. “Luke did, though,” she said.
Brian eyed me and I gave him a face that showed I really didn’t like lobster, but that it was just between us. The men. He smiled at me, but his expression changed when he faced Laney and asked, “Did your mother call you, honey?”
“No.” She sat on the bed next to her dad. “But I didn’t expect her to, so it’s not a big deal.” It was a big deal. Even if she didn’t admit it, it was a huge deal.
Brain said, “She called me a few days ago, said she might not have a signal today, but she sent you something in the mail.”
For the umpteenth time that day, Laney’s eyes lit up. “She did?”
Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in purple and gold paper. “This is from her. It came in the mail yesterday, but she asked I give it to you on your birthday.”
“Wow,” Laney said with a sigh. She unwrapped it quickly, revealing a pair of diamond earrings. It made the bracelet I bought her look cheap. It wasn’t. Trust me. “These are great,” she said, but her reaction was less than when she opened my brothers’ or when she opened mine, and I felt pride swell in my chest. She removed her green and purple dreamcatcher earrings and replaced them with the diamond ones. “How do they look?” she asked her dad.
“Beautiful,” he said. “You look beautiful, Lo.”
“Beautiful,” I agreed.
“Should I call her?” she asked. “To thank her?”
“No,” Brian said quickly. “It’s late now, and I’m sure she has no signal otherwise she would’ve called.”
“Right,” said Lane.
Brian stood. “Well. I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late. You have school tomorrow.”
Laney nodded, stood, kissed her dad on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dad.”
I said goodnight, too, and waited for him to leave. It was time, I thought, the night was almost over and I had something to say.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“I’m hungry.” Then she marched up the stairs and I followed her to the kitchen. She opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of chips. She was upset. She snacked when she was upset, and we both knew the reason why, but she’d never say it out loud. I hadn’t missed her checking her phone every few minutes while we were at dinner or earlier in the day at school or in the car. She was waiting for the phone call or even a simple text. She’d lied to her dad. She lied to herself.
Lane grabbed two sodas from the fridge and handed them to me, her way of asking me to stay a little while longer. Then she emptied the bag of chips into a bowl, held onto the bag as she walked to the trash, pressed her foot on the lever to lift the lid, and then froze in her spot.
“What is it?” I asked.
She didn’t respond.
I walked over to her, watched her eyes quickly fill with tears. Then I looked in the trash, at the cause of the tears, at the discarded purple and gold wrapping paper.
“It’s not a big deal,” she whispered. It was.
She used my chest to muffle her cries, not wanting her dad to hear her. And I stood there, holding her, knowing it wasn’t the right time to tell her how I felt. But then she looked up at me, her eyes red and raw. “Thank you, Luke.”
“For what?” I asked.
“For being here. For being my friend.”
Her friend.
I didn’t tell her I loved her that night.
I couldn’t.
I was her friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. And at the time, I was okay with it because I had other, more important, things to worry about.
Dad was in his office when I got home, sitting at his desk where I needed to be. “I need the computer,” I told him.
“Where’s your laptop?”
“I need your computer,” I reiterated. I moved behind the desk, stood and hovered next to him.
“What’s the urgency?”
I bounced on my toes, rage washing through me. “You keep all the resumes of your employees, right?”
“Yes.”
“So you’d have Lane’s old address from when Brian sent you his?”
“Yes, but—”
“I need it,” I cut in.
“Lucas,” Dad said, standing up so I could take his seat. “What’s happening?”
My fingers worked frantically, opening and closing files, trying to find the right one. “And I’m going to need your truck tomorrow.”
“Luke!” He shook my shoulders and made me look at him. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I hate her,” I bit out.
“Who? Lane?”
“No!” I shouted. “Her mother. I hate her stupid mother. She hasn’t been around. She’s never been around. And she forgot Laney’s birthday. What kind of mother forgets their own daughter’s sixteenth birthday?”
“Okay. Calm down,” he said, taking his hands off of me. “What are you going to do, Luke? Drive there, knock on her door, and then what? What are you going to say?”
I find the file. Email it to myself. Map out the destination.
“Luke?”
“I don’t know, okay? But she keeps hurting Lane, Dad. She keeps hurting her and making her sad and Lane just keeps taking hit after hit and she won’t say or do anything about it. And I’m pissed and I hate her and I want her to know that.”
Dad nodded slowly, his eyes tired. “Okay,” he said, then unlocked a drawer on his desk that housed all the important things: birth certificates, wills, Mom’s engagement ring. He placed the family emergency credit card on the desk in front of me. “The truck needs gas.”
I left early so I could be back early. I wouldn’t be going to school and I wouldn’t be telling Lane why, so I knew she’d be going to my house to check in on me. Her old house was four hours away, and it didn’t give me much time to make any stops. I skipped my morning run, ate breakfast on the way.
Laney’s old house was four times the size of the one she and Brian lived in now, and it just pissed me off more. Her dad had given up everything, including the house, in the divorce, and now they were scraping for pennies and Laney had to work to save for college just so her stupid mom could live that life.
I sat on the stairs, watched them through the gaps of the staircase. The song played on, and my brothers and I sat in awe as we watched my best friend give my dad a reason to smile, and we took a moment to miss our mother and to appreciate Laney for every single thing she brought to the family.
I helped Laney carry all her presents to her room, where Brian was waiting for us. “How was your night?” he asked.
Laney hadn’t stopped smiling. “I tried lobster!” she announced.
Brian laughed. “Did you like it?”
She scrunched her nose, dumped the presents on her bed. “Luke did, though,” she said.
Brian eyed me and I gave him a face that showed I really didn’t like lobster, but that it was just between us. The men. He smiled at me, but his expression changed when he faced Laney and asked, “Did your mother call you, honey?”
“No.” She sat on the bed next to her dad. “But I didn’t expect her to, so it’s not a big deal.” It was a big deal. Even if she didn’t admit it, it was a huge deal.
Brain said, “She called me a few days ago, said she might not have a signal today, but she sent you something in the mail.”
For the umpteenth time that day, Laney’s eyes lit up. “She did?”
Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in purple and gold paper. “This is from her. It came in the mail yesterday, but she asked I give it to you on your birthday.”
“Wow,” Laney said with a sigh. She unwrapped it quickly, revealing a pair of diamond earrings. It made the bracelet I bought her look cheap. It wasn’t. Trust me. “These are great,” she said, but her reaction was less than when she opened my brothers’ or when she opened mine, and I felt pride swell in my chest. She removed her green and purple dreamcatcher earrings and replaced them with the diamond ones. “How do they look?” she asked her dad.
“Beautiful,” he said. “You look beautiful, Lo.”
“Beautiful,” I agreed.
“Should I call her?” she asked. “To thank her?”
“No,” Brian said quickly. “It’s late now, and I’m sure she has no signal otherwise she would’ve called.”
“Right,” said Lane.
Brian stood. “Well. I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late. You have school tomorrow.”
Laney nodded, stood, kissed her dad on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dad.”
I said goodnight, too, and waited for him to leave. It was time, I thought, the night was almost over and I had something to say.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“I’m hungry.” Then she marched up the stairs and I followed her to the kitchen. She opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of chips. She was upset. She snacked when she was upset, and we both knew the reason why, but she’d never say it out loud. I hadn’t missed her checking her phone every few minutes while we were at dinner or earlier in the day at school or in the car. She was waiting for the phone call or even a simple text. She’d lied to her dad. She lied to herself.
Lane grabbed two sodas from the fridge and handed them to me, her way of asking me to stay a little while longer. Then she emptied the bag of chips into a bowl, held onto the bag as she walked to the trash, pressed her foot on the lever to lift the lid, and then froze in her spot.
“What is it?” I asked.
She didn’t respond.
I walked over to her, watched her eyes quickly fill with tears. Then I looked in the trash, at the cause of the tears, at the discarded purple and gold wrapping paper.
“It’s not a big deal,” she whispered. It was.
She used my chest to muffle her cries, not wanting her dad to hear her. And I stood there, holding her, knowing it wasn’t the right time to tell her how I felt. But then she looked up at me, her eyes red and raw. “Thank you, Luke.”
“For what?” I asked.
“For being here. For being my friend.”
Her friend.
I didn’t tell her I loved her that night.
I couldn’t.
I was her friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. And at the time, I was okay with it because I had other, more important, things to worry about.
Dad was in his office when I got home, sitting at his desk where I needed to be. “I need the computer,” I told him.
“Where’s your laptop?”
“I need your computer,” I reiterated. I moved behind the desk, stood and hovered next to him.
“What’s the urgency?”
I bounced on my toes, rage washing through me. “You keep all the resumes of your employees, right?”
“Yes.”
“So you’d have Lane’s old address from when Brian sent you his?”
“Yes, but—”
“I need it,” I cut in.
“Lucas,” Dad said, standing up so I could take his seat. “What’s happening?”
My fingers worked frantically, opening and closing files, trying to find the right one. “And I’m going to need your truck tomorrow.”
“Luke!” He shook my shoulders and made me look at him. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I hate her,” I bit out.
“Who? Lane?”
“No!” I shouted. “Her mother. I hate her stupid mother. She hasn’t been around. She’s never been around. And she forgot Laney’s birthday. What kind of mother forgets their own daughter’s sixteenth birthday?”
“Okay. Calm down,” he said, taking his hands off of me. “What are you going to do, Luke? Drive there, knock on her door, and then what? What are you going to say?”
I find the file. Email it to myself. Map out the destination.
“Luke?”
“I don’t know, okay? But she keeps hurting Lane, Dad. She keeps hurting her and making her sad and Lane just keeps taking hit after hit and she won’t say or do anything about it. And I’m pissed and I hate her and I want her to know that.”
Dad nodded slowly, his eyes tired. “Okay,” he said, then unlocked a drawer on his desk that housed all the important things: birth certificates, wills, Mom’s engagement ring. He placed the family emergency credit card on the desk in front of me. “The truck needs gas.”
I left early so I could be back early. I wouldn’t be going to school and I wouldn’t be telling Lane why, so I knew she’d be going to my house to check in on me. Her old house was four hours away, and it didn’t give me much time to make any stops. I skipped my morning run, ate breakfast on the way.
Laney’s old house was four times the size of the one she and Brian lived in now, and it just pissed me off more. Her dad had given up everything, including the house, in the divorce, and now they were scraping for pennies and Laney had to work to save for college just so her stupid mom could live that life.
