“Haven’t been in the mood.” For something to do, I sit on the opposite side of the couch from him. It’s brown leather and makes a little sound when I sit. Across from us, the TV is mounted to the wall, with shelves beneath it filled with all sorts of boy TV stuff. And then, I turn my head and look at him. I didn’t want to because I hate the way he looks at me. Hate it and love it at the same time. Not because I like him, because I don’t—I won’t—but I love it because it’s normal and hate it because it makes me feel naked. Like he’s seeing inside me in a way Jason never did.
I’m pretty sure we both know I’m lying. Know I don’t go into my room because it makes me feel even more lost. That I don’t go out there because I can’t make anything ever again. I send tiny little wishes into the universe that he doesn’t call me on it. That he doesn’t ask me why I’m not in the mood, or why I’m here to see his mom, or why I watch him and then treat him badly.
Christian gives a slight shrug before he leans forward, past the candy bowl and toward his bag of gummy bears. He pours some into his lap and hands me the bag, which I take. I pop one into my mouth, briefly getting a whiff of that sugary smell that reminds me of him.
“I only do old-school horror flicks. Nightmare on Elm Street is in. That cool with you?” he asks around a gummy. For some reason, I wonder if we’re eating the same color.
“Perfect.”
For the next two hours, there’s nothing but scary dreams, knife fingers, and Freddy’s messed-up face. No questions, no small talk, and it’s just what I need.
Right as the credits start to roll, the front door opens, propelling me off the couch. Calm down, Brynn. You weren’t doing anything wrong.
Brenda walks in, dressed like a Mexican dancer. “Whew, I’m tired— Oh, hey! How are you?” She smiles at me.
“Fine. We were just watching a movie, but it’s over, so I’m heading home now.”
Christian walks forward, scratching his head. “Where’s Sally?” he asks his mom. For a second, I wonder who that is, but I remember he has a sister. I’ve never seen her, but there’s another woman I see come and go. Could be her, too.
“She’ll be home soon. She’s on an ice cream run.” Brenda turns toward me. “You don’t have to go.” I get one of those “Mom” looks from her.
“No, I should get home. It’s pretty late. My dad’s gone until tomorrow afternoon and he might call the home phone to check on me.” Which is true.
“She came to see you.” Christian crosses his arms and stands next to me. He’s not close enough to touch me but somehow I feel him. My skin warms and pebbles with goose bumps at the same time.
“I just wanted to say hi. I was bored over there by myself. I’m getting a little bit tired now, but I appreciate the offer to stay.”
“Breakfast!” Brenda claps her hands, confusing me. Breakfast?
“I know you have to go, but come eat with us in the morning. Do you like chorizo?”
Christian talks before I get a chance. “Mom, are you trying to show off? Pulling out the big guns on her?”
Huh?
“I am not! I’m being nice, mijo. Her dad is gone, I missed her tonight, and yeah, I can cook a mean breakfast.”
Christian shakes his head, a smile tilting his lips. “Whatever.” Next he turns to me. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I rush out.
“I know.”
All I can do is nod and wonder what just happened. I’m obviously coming to breakfast tomorrow.
“See you at nine,” Brenda calls as I follow Christian to the door.
“Okay, thank you.”
When we get on my porch, Christian stops. “You’ll be okay?”
I nod and walk in. “Yeah, I’m good. Luckily we don’t live on Elm Street. Then I might make you stay awake with me all night.”
He smiles at my lame joke. “You wouldn’t have to make me. I’d protect you from Freddy. Or make my mom protect both of us.”
“Oh, big strong boy needs his mom. I see how brave you are.” There’s a flutter in my stomach that I struggle to ignore.
“She’s tough. You’ll see when you get to know her better.”
“I have no doubt about your mom’s toughness.”
“Smart girl.” He tilts his head toward his house. “I’d better go. Catch ya later, Bryntastic,” Christian turns and jogs back to his house. I watch until he slips inside.
After a quick trip upstairs to brush my teeth and grab my blanket and pillow, I curl up on the couch. Mom and I always had living room sleepovers any time we were alone. It’s kind of nice to do it again.
Thinking of her makes me remember the movie with Christian. How tonight, I wasn’t alone. How it felt good to have someone to be quiet with.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Now
Even though it feels strange to be going to Christian’s house for breakfast, I don’t even have to talk myself into it. I want to go. To laugh at his mom who sneaks cigarettes. To meet Sally or his elusive dad—if he’s even around. I suddenly feel a little guilty for not knowing. And I also hope I might find out why he left.
After changing into a black-and-white-striped sweater and a pair of jeans, I tie my red hair back in a ponytail.
After pushing my feet into my pink-and-black Nikes, I head over to Christian’s—no, Brenda’s. She invited me to breakfast. She’s the one I went to see last night. Not him.
Inside me, there’s a little kernel of thankfulness that he was there, though, because I’d needed someone, something, and just by letting me watch Freddy slash people in their nightmares, he gave it to me.
A few seconds after I knock, Brenda opens the front door. She looks almost like she did that first morning, a robe wrapped around her, but this time, she looks much more awake.
She hugs me tightly, her arms around me squeezing the heart in my chest. My body melts into the comfort of her embrace.
“Thanks for coming, mija. I cooked all sorts of food and Christian is still in bed. He’s lucky I don’t throw water on him to get him up!”
I can’t help but laugh, part of me wanting to witness Christian being awakened by a flood. “That’s okay. Did he go out or something, after I left last night?” I want to snatch the question out of the air, take it back. I want to dissect the reason it came out of my mouth in the first place. “I mean, I’m just curious.”
Leading me to the kitchen, she shakes her head. “No, but he probably stayed up half the night playing his guitar. He’s a night owl. It helps him relax. Guitar is his form of meditation.” When we step into the kitchen, there’s another woman standing at the stove. I assume it’s Sally. She’s definitely not Brenda’s daughter, because they’re close to the same age, and even though she has dark hair, it’s obvious she isn’t Hispanic like Brenda and Christian.
“Brynn, this is my partner, Sally. Sally, this is Christian’s friend and our neighbor, Brynn.”
Partner? The wheels in my brain start to spin, all the little gadgets clicking into place. Oh, partner. I’ve never known a lesbian before. I don’t have a problem with it—people should be able to love who they want—but it’s just not something I’ve been so close to personally.
“Hi.” Sally holds out her hand to me. “It’s nice to meet you.” As we shake, she turns to Brenda and says, “Check the food. I don’t want to mess it up.”
They both laugh. Brenda grabs Sally’s free hand and gives it a brief squeeze before she flips the food in a skillet. The gesture does something to me. Makes my eyes fight not to cloud over because it’s so easy…so natural that it reminds me of Mom and Dad.
Brenda finishes cooking while Sally and I sit at the table. I find out she runs a little coffee shop one town over and Brenda works part-time in an office. She’s also been going back to school for psychology and somehow finds the time to volunteer at the center five days a week.
They joke about Christian’s morning grumpiness and his obsession with teaching himself guitar. Apparently, he’s pretty independent and doesn’t like to need things from other people. I can definitely see that about him.
“Part of it is just because he likes to learn. He reads my books from school for fun, and teaching himself the guitar started out as the same thing. Now he loves it.”
“That’s cool.”
A few minutes later, Brenda sits a huge plate of food in front of me, another for Sally, and then one for her. “Should we wake him up or brag later that he missed breakfast?”
I say, “Brag later,” at the same time as Sally, and the three of us laugh.
Looking down at the plate, I’m not sure where to start. There are tortillas and beans and meat that I assume is the chorizo she mentioned. She also piled scrambled eggs and fruit onto my plate. Honestly, I’m a little out of my element. We do sauce and pasta (though not for breakfast). Since she mentioned the chorizo, I start there, putting a bit in my mouth. Two chews later I feel like my mouth is erupting into flames. “Oh my God!”
Sally and Brenda both look at me with wide eyes. I’m fanning my mouth and my eyes are actually watering.
“You don’t do hot, mija?” Brenda asks, obviously shocked, while Sally jumps up and grabs me a drink, which I immediately suck down.
Now, it’s only my cheeks that are burning. “No, no. It’s good. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Brenda reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “Just like my Christian. He can’t handle the hot, either.”
…
The rest of breakfast goes by without any incidents. I don’t eat the chorizo. Brenda smirks every time she looks at me, and Sally harasses her for not warning me she likes to eat food hotter than an inferno. Christian never makes an appearance.
But I have fun.
I love listening to their banter. They don’t ask me many questions. A little bit about Dad, his job, and making sure he won’t mind that I’m here. They both apologize when I tell them about Mom, but it’s the kind of apology that feels like it’s healing some of the emptiness inside me, not the pitying, uncomfortable kind.
“I have an idea!” Brenda claps her hands. “Do you want to go to the center with me? They’re having a girls’ day, no boys allowed. We’ll listen to music and have lunch. Play games.”
“Umm, sure. Yeah, I’d like that.” The cool part is, it’s true. I’m not ready for this day to end.
Brenda gets another one of those grins on her face that reminds me of Christian. Sally kisses her cheek and says, “I’ll clean up while you girls get ready to go.”
I run next door to grab a couple things while Brenda finishes up at home. I’m a weird mix of excitement and nerves, but I decide not to focus on it and just enjoy myself.
A few minutes later, I actually twiddle my thumbs in the car. I’m not sure what to do or what to say and that seems to work better than anything else.
Brenda sits next to me in her flowy skirt, happiness radiating off of her, and I wish there was a way to siphon some of her positive energy. To not dread something as simple as what we’re going to do.
But it’s not really simple, is it?
I pull my hands apart and rub them on my jeans. All I want is to push those thoughts of before and now out of my head. I just want to live in the moment—find a way to, anyway, and my only chance is to stop myself from dwelling.
“So…have you done this long? The volunteering?” I ask.
Brenda turns and nods. I sit back in the seat.
“I haven’t been at this center very long. Just since we moved here.” Her accent tints every word. “I’ve done it before, though. It’s hard being a teenager. I didn’t realize that until after Angelica. I want to be there for kids who might not have anyone else there for them.”