I throw a handful of grass at the headstone. “You guys really fucked me over, you know that? I wasn’t kidding when I told him you haven’t been there for me. You haven’t. And you got your way, by the way. I’ve never been anywhere. Just how you wanted it. I spent the semester I wanted to spend overseas undergoing surgery after surgery. And by the time I was finished and ready to go back to school, Hank had been in foster care long enough. I had to get my diploma and get a real job. To support the two of us. Like some kind of tragic heroine in a book, only there’s been nothing heroic about my life. It’s just been pathetic.”
I pause and sigh. “Until recently, I’ve been pretty ambivalent about life, actually. If it weren’t for Hank, I probably wouldn’t be here. What’s the point?” Annoyed at my own theatrics, I mutter, “Oh, who am I kidding? Even if it were just me, I’d still be here. I’m too squeamish to kill myself. Even with pills. The closest I’ve gotten to suicide is with my reckless driving. You’ll probably be glad to know that I drive a lot more carefully lately. Not as much of a death wish now that Jude’s around.” I consider that for a second and don’t say anything for a while.
“Miss!” someone calls, making me jump. I look over my shoulder. It’s a security guard. As I stand, he says, “Cemetery’s closin’. You got to leave.”
I brush my hands against my damp butt. “Okay!” I call back. To the marker, I say, “Well, I guess I should go home and figure out how I’m going to make it up to Jude for being so… me… this morning.” I go to leave, then turn around as I say, “Bye. Again.”
Before I let that statement get to me too much, I jog for the gate, where the security guard is waiting.
18
The shiny black keys blur and merge, blur and merge in my unfocused stare as I widen and narrow my eyes repeatedly. Blur and merge. Blur. Merge. Jude’s office was dark and locked when I arrived at work a little earlier than usual. I’ve been sitting here staring at my computer keyboard for at least ten minutes, willing myself not to turn around every thirty seconds and check to see if he’s arrived yet. I still don’t know what I’m going to say to him anyway.
Part of me is really hurt and pissed off at some of the things he said on the phone Saturday. Part of me knows I deserved it.
Yesterday was hell. It felt like I had stepped into a time machine and transported myself six months into the past. I think Sandberg was diggin’ it, but by the time I’d flipped through all 260 television channels for the twenty-fourth time, I was ready to scream my head off. I don’t live in the best neighborhood, though, so I was afraid someone would call the cops if they heard a woman screaming. And then I’d have to explain myself to one more person.
Suddenly, someone is standing behind me, rubbing slightly against my right shoulder. “What are you looking at?” he whispers.
I turn around, and Marvin takes a step back. “Get away from me!” I snap. “What the heck is wrong with you?”
He looks hurt. “Wha…? I was trying to see what you were staring at!”
“Why do you care?”
“I dunno. Sheesh!” He glances over his shoulder as if he’s looking for someone or making sure they’re not around. “Yo. Not cool what you did to Jude this weekend. Not telling him you had a brother, then dissing him so you could hang out one-on-one with your bro? That’s cold, man.”
At my crazy, angry-eyed expression, he says, “I know, you’re probably pissed that Jude told me all that, but he was hurtin’! Came to work to see how I was coming along on that thing I was making for him, that’s how desperate he was for something to do to take his mind off it.”
I’m going to kill Jude. And I’ll be on the news… again.
Oblivious to my thoughts but not to my twitching eye, Marvin continues, “And he wouldn’t have told me anything, babe, but we went out for drinks Saturday night, and he had a few too many—although it’s amazing how well that skinny dude holds his liquor—and that’s when he told me why he was such a loser, being at work on the weekend, which I didn’t take offense to, you know, considering I was at work, too.”
“Shut up!” I hiss. “Just… shut… up, Marvin.”
He puts his hands in front of himself and backs away. “Peace. Man, you are one scary bitch,” he calmly declares as he turns and strides down the hall away from me.
Funny, now I’m not at all unsure about what I’m going to say to Jude when he gets here. First off, nothing. I refuse to have some kind of public lover’s spat for all the gawkers to witness, especially those like Leslie who have been hoping for us to fail spectacularly. Next, if he comes to me to try to start a conversation, I’m going to coldly tell him that he’ll have to wait until after work. Then… well, let’s just say I hope he knows something about self-defense.
I almost get through the entire day without him trying to say anything to me. Without anyone trying to say anything to me, actually. I think I have “Bite me” written all over
