“You work night shift. You’re always tired.”
“True.”
“But I have a surprise for you.”
“Really? What?”
“Dinner’s on me tonight.”
I flipped the right-hand turn signal on in my car.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m driving toward the nearest Burger King.”
He snorted. “Go straight two lights, before making a left.”
I did what he said, and there were directions after that. We wound up in a diner at an area just this side of decent. I’d been here before, long ago, when Mom would drop Jake and me off at a forgotten arcade with a fistful of quarters to kill an afternoon. The arcade was gone now, but the diner remained.
“Well, this is a blast from the past,” I said, pulling into a small parking lot nearby.
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Thanks. I think I do.” He held the door for me as we went inside.
As I passed, I could see he was wearing nice clothes—he looked pulled together. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around this version of Jake: clean, polite, kind. The waitress took us to a booth.
“Just like old times. Want a chocolate milk shake?” Jake asked as the waitress waited for our drink order.
“Maybe a hot chocolate, instead. And a burger, please.”
“Me too. A double.”
The waitress took our order and went away.
“So,” I said, looking at Jake.
“Soooo?”
“Really, Jake. What is up.” I took my hat off and set it down. It was nice and warm in here at least. Plus, there were no eyeless cyborgs.
“Does there always have to be something up?”
“With you, yes.”
“I just wish you could trust me again.”
“How many times have you stolen things from me, Jake?”
“I don’t want to hash over the past.”
“How convenient.”
“Do we have to have the same conversation every single time we hang out?”
I squinted at him. “Unless we’re not talking that day.”
He crossed his arms, and childishly stuck out his tongue. I couldn’t help but laugh. The waitress came by with our hot chocolates, and we busied ourselves stirring in marshmallows.
“I can’t blame you,” Jake began, and I expected one of the reversals that had followed the last few times he’d said those words.
The irony that it was the dead of winter, and we wouldn’t see any new foliage till late spring didn’t avoid me. “How so?”
“For starters, I’m buying us dinner tonight. And then next month, I’ll be paying for my half of the cell phone bill.”
I pursed my lips. If we were normal, these things would have pleased me; they’d be signs my erstwhile brother was getting back up on his feet. But if Jake had taught me one thing, it was that everything always came with a hitch. “How are you affording it?”
Jake shrugged nonchalantly.
“No. Seriously, Jake. I need to know.”
“I’ve been working very hard lately is all.”
“About that, Jake.” I couldn’t very well tell my brother to quit hanging out with other homeless people—just white guys with dreadlocks who probably sold drugs. “What is it that you do?”
“This and that.”
“Selling drugs,” I guessed, getting ready to scoot out of the booth. Was this the right time to make a scene? Was there ever a right time? Of all the things I would have thought that Jake could do to push me away, this was the last, biggest, final, straw.
“No. Energy supplements.”
“Is that what they’re calling meth these days?”
He inhaled and exhaled. “I knew you would make this difficult, Edie.”
“I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re doing well. But if you’re taking money for running drugs, and then trying to buy me dinner with it, I just can’t stand for that.”
“It’s not drugs,” he protested. I stood up, and he stood up too. Other patrons were looking at us now.
“Why can’t you just have faith in me?”
“Are you really asking me that?” My voice rose as I asked him. He held out his hands, palms up, pleading.
“Edie. I love you. I just need you to believe in me. One more time.”
I stood there, looking down at him, torn between running away and running toward him. I breathed heavy, deep, then sat back down.
“Energy supplements,” I repeated, trying to talk myself into it.
He nodded. “They’re really popular. I’ll cover the phone bill next month. The whole bill. Not just my half. I owe you.”
“Okay,” I said to him, and to myself. “Okay.”
Our dinner came out. Jake opened up his burger and reached into his pocket, under my watchful stare, pulled out a palmful of glass vials.
I’d seen them before. Luna Lobos. Like the ones Luz had, which she may or may not have given to Javier when my back was turned. Jake’s vials held no such Schrodingerian duality—he popped off their caps and poured the contents onto his burger, where they pooled on the cheese. He saw me curl my lip in disgust. “Hey, I’m not just the owner, I’m also a member.” He put the top bun back on and gestured grandly, like he’d done a magic trick, then pulled another full vial out of his pocket and put it on the table in front of me.
“What’s in that? Vitamins and Windex?”
“Vitamins and caffeine probably.” He took a few bites of his burger, smiled, and set it down. “You know, Edie—I really think this stuff is what’s given me a new lease on life.”
“How so?” I held it up and inspected his face, refracted through its blue-tinged contents. There were a few grains of what looked like pepper suspended inside.
“It’s just—things have gotten easier, since I started this…” His voice faded, unsure what word to use, trying, I was sure, to pick one that wouldn’t piss me off. “… multilevel marketing opportunity,” he decided on.
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t have the cravings I once did. I bought one of these, and as soon as I started taking it, all those other urges were gone.”
I remembered all the money I’d spotted him while he’d been taking “care” of me, post-stabbing. Clearly he’d spent it on more than just lunch.
“Once I found out who to talk to, so I could start selling them myself, and taking a cut—it’s been great, really. I have money now. I don’t want to get high anymore. The only high I’m after is that performance high.” I watched the light of memory go on in his eyes. “God, I haven’t felt this good since I used to run track.”
“You and I both know that was a long time ago. We’re not in high school anymore, Jakey.”
“But it’s the same thing. I want to see how far I can go. How well I can do. Just like running track, back in the day.”
Jake wouldn’t be the first junkie I’d seen kick one habit, only to replace it with another. I’d seen addicts who
