Mona. It was the first time you’ve allowed it with a woman. I don’t understand.” Her green eyes softened with sympathy.
“I tried, Jewels, but I ended up doing what I always do. I did manage to open the door, but when junk got real I found another exit and pushed her out of it.” A harsh huff trembled out of him. “Man, I’m messed up.”
“You need to knock it off, and let someone in permanently. I had really hoped Mona was going to be the one—”
“She deserves better than having to deal with my issues.”
“More like stupidities.” Jewels leaned forward, demanding the attention he had averted toward the deck. She stopped holding her tongue long ago, not babying them over important issues at the expense of hurting their feelings.
“Whatever, Jewels. I need to go check on my brother.” Max pushed to his feet, hoping the pressure building in his chest would alleviate.
“He asked Izzy to give him some space.” She followed close behind him to the glass doors, allowing him to run away from the subject for the time being.
“And she actually listened?”
“Yeah. Poor guy. Those dumb reports dredged up some harsh memories. He looked right sick.”
Max ran his fingertips through the thick scruff on his chin. “I’ll fix it,” he muttered, closing the back door and making a beeline right out the front one.
Two hours later he was back with several boxes of fried goodness and two gallons of milk. That part only took a smidgen of the time he was gone. The rest of it was successfully spent with him hanging out with paparazzi, filling them in on his thyroid issue and even allowing them to film him jamming out in a local pawnshop’s music section. The owner wasn’t thrilled with the commotion at first, until realizing who the mischievous customer was. Before Max made it too far into the show word broke about Mona and his split, so he took time to help spread that around also, tolerating several rounds of Q & A’s with the weasels following him around.
Did you cheat?
No, dude. You don’t cheat on babes like Mona Fielding.
Did she cheat?
I wouldn’t blame her, but no. Mona is a saint.
Are you seeing anyone?
No.
What’s up with your brother?
Nothing, he’s standing by me while I deal with my health and breakup. Dude is awesome like that. He’s a saint, too.
He allowed them answers they had no right to know, all to set things straight about his brother. His skin ached as though the pain of exposing himself so openly were causing his pores to bleed acid, but his lazy smile never faltered.
Not until he pushed into his brother’s bedroom.
In that moment, everything faltered and flashed him right back to being nine years old. The luscious aroma of cinnamon and vanilla vanished along with the vast beach house suite, regressing to the tiny trailer reeking of musty disappointment. The large lump of man under the expensive comforter transformed into a barely noticeable bump under the threadbare quilt of the double bed.
“Whatcha doin’?” Max stood at the end of their shared bed.
“Hiding.” Mave’s voice muffled out through his fabric fortress.
“From what?”
“Everything.”
Max’s small shoulder hitched up in a halfhearted shrug. “Aunt Evie done said you can’t hide from God.”
“Well, I ain’t speaking to God right now.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause he didn’t make Daddy stay.”
Once Mave mumbled that, Max just wanted to hide, too. Their dad had hightailed it that morning, saying he couldn’t do the family thing anymore, leaving them confused and inconsolable.
Max and his wounded heart climbed under the cover with his brother, not acknowledging the tears streaming from the corners of Mave’s eyes. After settling underneath the quilt, he offered the only comfort afforded at the time—half of a melting candy bar he snuck from Aunt Evie’s trailer earlier that day. It was the place he ran off to when his wasted father told him to get lost before peeling out of the
“I tried, Jewels, but I ended up doing what I always do. I did manage to open the door, but when junk got real I found another exit and pushed her out of it.” A harsh huff trembled out of him. “Man, I’m messed up.”
“You need to knock it off, and let someone in permanently. I had really hoped Mona was going to be the one—”
“She deserves better than having to deal with my issues.”
“More like stupidities.” Jewels leaned forward, demanding the attention he had averted toward the deck. She stopped holding her tongue long ago, not babying them over important issues at the expense of hurting their feelings.
“Whatever, Jewels. I need to go check on my brother.” Max pushed to his feet, hoping the pressure building in his chest would alleviate.
“He asked Izzy to give him some space.” She followed close behind him to the glass doors, allowing him to run away from the subject for the time being.
“And she actually listened?”
“Yeah. Poor guy. Those dumb reports dredged up some harsh memories. He looked right sick.”
Max ran his fingertips through the thick scruff on his chin. “I’ll fix it,” he muttered, closing the back door and making a beeline right out the front one.
Two hours later he was back with several boxes of fried goodness and two gallons of milk. That part only took a smidgen of the time he was gone. The rest of it was successfully spent with him hanging out with paparazzi, filling them in on his thyroid issue and even allowing them to film him jamming out in a local pawnshop’s music section. The owner wasn’t thrilled with the commotion at first, until realizing who the mischievous customer was. Before Max made it too far into the show word broke about Mona and his split, so he took time to help spread that around also, tolerating several rounds of Q & A’s with the weasels following him around.
Did you cheat?
No, dude. You don’t cheat on babes like Mona Fielding.
Did she cheat?
I wouldn’t blame her, but no. Mona is a saint.
Are you seeing anyone?
No.
What’s up with your brother?
Nothing, he’s standing by me while I deal with my health and breakup. Dude is awesome like that. He’s a saint, too.
He allowed them answers they had no right to know, all to set things straight about his brother. His skin ached as though the pain of exposing himself so openly were causing his pores to bleed acid, but his lazy smile never faltered.
Not until he pushed into his brother’s bedroom.
In that moment, everything faltered and flashed him right back to being nine years old. The luscious aroma of cinnamon and vanilla vanished along with the vast beach house suite, regressing to the tiny trailer reeking of musty disappointment. The large lump of man under the expensive comforter transformed into a barely noticeable bump under the threadbare quilt of the double bed.
“Whatcha doin’?” Max stood at the end of their shared bed.
“Hiding.” Mave’s voice muffled out through his fabric fortress.
“From what?”
“Everything.”
Max’s small shoulder hitched up in a halfhearted shrug. “Aunt Evie done said you can’t hide from God.”
“Well, I ain’t speaking to God right now.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause he didn’t make Daddy stay.”
Once Mave mumbled that, Max just wanted to hide, too. Their dad had hightailed it that morning, saying he couldn’t do the family thing anymore, leaving them confused and inconsolable.
Max and his wounded heart climbed under the cover with his brother, not acknowledging the tears streaming from the corners of Mave’s eyes. After settling underneath the quilt, he offered the only comfort afforded at the time—half of a melting candy bar he snuck from Aunt Evie’s trailer earlier that day. It was the place he ran off to when his wasted father told him to get lost before peeling out of the
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