He slammed the pot of stuffing on the table hard enough to make the plates jump. I jumped, too.
“What, that’s a shitty thing for me to want? That you and Cap should have a normal life, after—”
“Nothing bad happened to me there!” I shouted.
Vic had crossed the small kitchen to me faster than a blink, and gripped my upper arm hard enough to bruise. “No, but it could have!”
He was hurting me, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it so he could feel guilty about it later. Caught flat-footed, I couldn’t get close enough to Vic to look in his eyes and with the table behind me, I couldn’t back up. All I could do was wait for him to realize what he was doing.
With a muttered curse, Vic dropped my arm and backed away. First he scraped a hand over his face. Then he put his hands on his hips, head hanging, shoulders hunched. A vast and painful silence filled the space between us. I hadn’t wanted to cry when he grabbed my arm and hurt me, but I had to swipe away tears now.
“It wouldn’t have been your fault if it did, Vic. Nothing that happened there was your fault.” Even at eighteen, I knew that it didn’t matter. Vic blamed himself, maybe because it was easier to feel guilty for failing rather than admitting that no matter what he’d done, he’d have been unable to succeed.
“It could have,” Vic said again in a lower, broken voice.
“But it didn’t.” I didn’t reach to touch him. “I’m okay. Cap’s okay. And that is because of you, Vic.”
“You should go to that dance with that boy.” Vic went back to the oven to pull out the pan of pork chops, which he put on the table along with the small pot of green beans from the stovetop. “Get a pretty dress, take your pictures. Have fun with friends your own age.”
That was the key, right there. Friends my own age. I’d gotten over our summer fling, but Vic had not—which didn’t mean he was still hung up on me, or yearned for me, or anything like that. In fact, I’d have been more likely to suggest a renewal of our sexual relationship than Vic, who seemed uncomfortable remembering it. And certainly never spoke of it.
“What’s going on? Dinner ready?” That was Cap, back from wherever he’d been. He had dirt on the front of his shirt and grass stains on his knees. The rest of his jeans were soaked.
“What the hell were you doing?” I asked.
“Flag football,” he said.
“In the snow?” I rolled my eyes.
At sixteen Cap had finally started growing into the promise of his huge feet and hands. He ate constantly, slept like the dead and took showers so long the rest of us were left with icy water. He scored off the charts on standardized tests, but got solid Cs in school, not because he didn’t understand the material but because he couldn’t seem to remember to turn in his homework.
Now he gave me a blank look. “Yeah?”
“Wash your hands, sit down and eat.” Vic let his eyes skate over me. “You, too.”
We did eat, Cap putting away more than Vic and me combined. After, we told Cap he had to do the dishes since we’d made the meal. Vic headed off to the den to watch television. I had homework, but instead of going upstairs to my room to do it, I followed him.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said from the doorway.
He’d settled into his recliner, feet up, beer in one hand. He didn’t even turn to look at me. “What’s that?”
“I’ll go with Chance, if you go out with Elaine.”
Vic half turned his head. “Who?”
“Elaine,” I said patiently, knowing he knew exactly who I meant. “Red Ford Probe, comes in for an oil change every couple of months whether the car needs it or not.”
Vic didn’t protest or try to pretend he didn’t know who I meant. “Why would I ask her out?”
“Because she’s totally into you and you like her, too.” That was the truth. I never saw Vic laugh so much as when Elaine was sitting in the waiting room at the shop. “She’s pretty,
“What, that’s a shitty thing for me to want? That you and Cap should have a normal life, after—”
“Nothing bad happened to me there!” I shouted.
Vic had crossed the small kitchen to me faster than a blink, and gripped my upper arm hard enough to bruise. “No, but it could have!”
He was hurting me, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it so he could feel guilty about it later. Caught flat-footed, I couldn’t get close enough to Vic to look in his eyes and with the table behind me, I couldn’t back up. All I could do was wait for him to realize what he was doing.
With a muttered curse, Vic dropped my arm and backed away. First he scraped a hand over his face. Then he put his hands on his hips, head hanging, shoulders hunched. A vast and painful silence filled the space between us. I hadn’t wanted to cry when he grabbed my arm and hurt me, but I had to swipe away tears now.
“It wouldn’t have been your fault if it did, Vic. Nothing that happened there was your fault.” Even at eighteen, I knew that it didn’t matter. Vic blamed himself, maybe because it was easier to feel guilty for failing rather than admitting that no matter what he’d done, he’d have been unable to succeed.
“It could have,” Vic said again in a lower, broken voice.
“But it didn’t.” I didn’t reach to touch him. “I’m okay. Cap’s okay. And that is because of you, Vic.”
“You should go to that dance with that boy.” Vic went back to the oven to pull out the pan of pork chops, which he put on the table along with the small pot of green beans from the stovetop. “Get a pretty dress, take your pictures. Have fun with friends your own age.”
That was the key, right there. Friends my own age. I’d gotten over our summer fling, but Vic had not—which didn’t mean he was still hung up on me, or yearned for me, or anything like that. In fact, I’d have been more likely to suggest a renewal of our sexual relationship than Vic, who seemed uncomfortable remembering it. And certainly never spoke of it.
“What’s going on? Dinner ready?” That was Cap, back from wherever he’d been. He had dirt on the front of his shirt and grass stains on his knees. The rest of his jeans were soaked.
“What the hell were you doing?” I asked.
“Flag football,” he said.
“In the snow?” I rolled my eyes.
At sixteen Cap had finally started growing into the promise of his huge feet and hands. He ate constantly, slept like the dead and took showers so long the rest of us were left with icy water. He scored off the charts on standardized tests, but got solid Cs in school, not because he didn’t understand the material but because he couldn’t seem to remember to turn in his homework.
Now he gave me a blank look. “Yeah?”
“Wash your hands, sit down and eat.” Vic let his eyes skate over me. “You, too.”
We did eat, Cap putting away more than Vic and me combined. After, we told Cap he had to do the dishes since we’d made the meal. Vic headed off to the den to watch television. I had homework, but instead of going upstairs to my room to do it, I followed him.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said from the doorway.
He’d settled into his recliner, feet up, beer in one hand. He didn’t even turn to look at me. “What’s that?”
“I’ll go with Chance, if you go out with Elaine.”
Vic half turned his head. “Who?”
“Elaine,” I said patiently, knowing he knew exactly who I meant. “Red Ford Probe, comes in for an oil change every couple of months whether the car needs it or not.”
Vic didn’t protest or try to pretend he didn’t know who I meant. “Why would I ask her out?”
“Because she’s totally into you and you like her, too.” That was the truth. I never saw Vic laugh so much as when Elaine was sitting in the waiting room at the shop. “She’s pretty,
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