Fractured ( Fractured #1) (4 page)

Chapter
Six

Dad worked six days a week, 7 A.M. to 7 P.M.
He’d say that it was because he chose a profession in the service business. He’d always add that he had to feed three kids—one of which was Bryan, whom he couldn’t keep up with the food bill for. His excuse for the long hours was that it allowed him time to catch up on paperwork without hiring someone else, who’d do it wrong. Heaven forbid he hire his own daughter, who managed the entire house, to come and handle the paperwork
.
So, it being Saturday didn’t mean anything to him; it was just another workday. Bryan had the morning shift at the burger place. I decided to offer to help at the garage again.

“You know, Dad, I could come in for a few hours and
deal with the customers and pay some bills for you.”

“That’s okay, Sweetie. Your mom and Dillon need you here.” He didn’t even make eye contact with me.

Deflated from another rejection to do something other than babysit my drunk mother, I wandered into the kitchen. Dad’s breakfast dishes were stacked neatly in the sink. After drinking a small glass of water, I went back to lie in bed. The curtains danced in the slight summer breeze; it was hypnotic. My eyes fluttered open at eleven. I wondered if I had slept the whole time. I was sure I had dreamed, yet I couldn’t recall the details.

After the morning rituals, I checked on Dillon. Still sleeping. It was unusu
al for him to sleep past 6:55. But I knew that even if he slept until noon, he’d still go to bed at nine at night. I’m not sure what was happening inside his head; but whatever it was, it made the boy sleep like a stone. Mom was in her bed, no doubt wasted. Bryan left a note on the kitchen table: “Hanging out at Jimmy’s after work. Won’t be home for dinner.” Well, at least he was considerate enough to let me know his plans.

I was almost finished drying Dad’s breakfast dishes when Dillon came downstairs
, still wearing his pajamas. “Want breakfast, Dillon?” I asked.

“
Bekfast.”

“All right. Sit down.” I made him his fried
scrambled egg sandwich, careful not to graze the edges on the extra piece of bread. I even made one for myself. We ate in silence. Although I’m not sure what Dillon was thinking, my mind was filled with Rob. I wondered what he was doing. Was he at the supermarket? Or sleeping in? Or maybe he was hanging out with his girlfriend? Did he have a girlfriend
? I could be his girlfriend. Yeah right, only in my dreams.

Trading Dillon’s plate for a coloring book and crayons, I washed the dishes and placed them on the drying rack.
A quick check on Mom in her room told me she was still out cold. The sun poured in from all the windows. It would be such a waste to stay inside on such a nice day. “Dillon, would you like to go to the park?”

“Park,” he said.

“Okay. Get dressed.” His scrawny, ten-year-old body shot up out of the chair, and he ran up the stairs. “Don’t forget to brush your hair,” I yelled, but I don’t think he heard me.

Ten
minutes later, he returned wearing a green and blue plaid shirt and red shorts. His sneakers weren’t tied. He sat on a chair and waited for me to do it. “You know, you have to tie your own shoes.” He didn’t answer me, so I bent down and tied his shoes. “Okay, let me get my purse and we’ll go to the park. Stay here.”

Motionless, he stayed in his seat. I wrote my mother a quick note telling her where we were going. There was a remote possibility that she would emerge from her room and be worried about Dillon. I left it where Bryan’s note had been. I took Dillon’s hand. “Ready?”

He looked straight ahead. “Set, go.”

We walked to the park. Of
course, I slowed my pace to look through the large glass windows of the supermarket as we walked by. Dillon squeezed my hand. He wanted to go to the park, not look at the supermarket.

The park only ha
d one entrance/exit in the middle of the perimeter of the four-foot-high chain-link fence that surrounded it. Once inside the gate, Dillon ran to the swings first, as he always did. He expected to be pushed for no more or less than ten times. He jumped off and went down the curvy slide three consecutive times. Once he’d done that, he sat under the larger yellow slide for approximately fifteen minutes. Sometimes he’d chant something, other times he sat quietly, listening to the things playing in his imagination. Then he’d begin the cycle over again. He never ventured near the monkey bars. I don’t think he knew what to do on them.

We stayed in the park until two o’clock. I would have stayed longer, but Dillon ran over and said, “Manny, lunch.”

“Okay, Dill. We’ll go home, and I’ll make you mac-and-cheese.” He grabbed my hand and led me to the exit. We were three feet from the gate, when Rob entered. The sides of his mouth tugged upward when he saw me. He wasn’t alone. A younger guy, but not by much, with lighter brown hair and deep, chocolate-brown eyes, stood next to him with a football in his hands. Although there was a slight resemblance, there was enough difference that I knew they weren’t brothers. He looked familiar.

“Mandy, right?”

I smiled back and nodded. “Hi,” I said.

Dillon squeezed my hand. “Manny, lunch.”

“This is my brother, Dillon.”

“Hey, Dillon,” Rob said.

“He has autism,” I explained.

Rob bobbed his head in front of Dillon’s face until Dillon fixed his gaze on him, although it was only for a few seconds. “Hey, Dillon. I’m Rob.”

Dillon gave Rob a fleeting glance. “Rob,” he confirmed.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He turned to the guy that was with him. “This is my cousin, Eric.” That explained the hint of similarity.

I squinted at him and tried to recall where in the high school hierarchy Eric fit. I knew he wasn’t a junior. I’ve known everyone in my grade for at least eleven years. “I think I’ve seen you in school.”

He nodded. “Eric Bowman. I was a freshman this past year.”

I nodded, and remembered seeing him at a few of the football games, and the occasional pass in the halls during class changes.

“We’re going to toss around a football,” Rob said. “
Wanna join us?”

My cheeks flushed. I’d never been invited to do anything with a guy, except for Bryan, who usually did it out of obligation, and certainly not to engage in any kind of sport. “Oh, sorry. I have to bring Dillon home to give him lunch.”

“I tell you what,” Rob said. “I’ll buy both you and Dillon lunch if you stay. And you don’t even have to play football.”

“Um, I don’t know. Dillon is pretty particular about his food.”

Rob turned to Dillon and waited until he caught his glance again. “Dillon, would you like a hot dog from that truck over there?”

Dillon stared out into space and flapped his hands. “Dog. Dog.”

“Does that mean yes?” Rob asked.

I couldn’t
help but smile. “That means yes.”

“Stay here,” Rob said. But he didn’t move. One eyebrow arched high on his forehead, he waited until I nodded my approval. He turned toward Eric, who was h
olding up two fingers like the peace sign. Then Rob walked toward the hot dog truck.

“You’re a senior, right?” Eric asked.

“I will be in September,” I said.

“I’ve seen you in the hall,” he said. “
Rob’ll be a senior, too. He’s behind a few credits. Maybe you’ll be in some of his classes.”

“He said he moved in with his aunt and uncle a
while ago because of a fire.” That was the only information I had about Rob, or Eric for that matter.

“I’m not sure if he’d want me to tell you, but
he had to move in with us three months ago. My uncle managed to get Rob outside before the fire got too bad, but went back in to get my Aunt Maria. He didn’t make it back out. Neither did my aunt. Rob’s been trying to hide it, but I can tell he’s hurting big time. He used to be very outgoing, but now he just stays by himself. My parents offered to go to counseling with him, but he says he doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it. He’s been so messed up. He didn’t go to school for the last three months of the semester. He needs to make up credits or he won’t be allowed to graduate.”

“
I’m so sorry.” That was a shock. I thought his family was temporarily displaced until they could find another house to live in. I didn’t know it was because his parents died in a horrible fire.

Rob jogged back to us. My head jerked up. I felt
guilty being privy to information I wasn’t supposed to have.

“
I forgot to ask, what do you like on your hot dog?” he asked me.

“Oh, plain for both Dillon and me. Thanks.” Then he jogged back to the truck.

I couldn’t help it. I had to ask. “Do you know how the fire started?”

Eric’s eyes darted from Rob at the truck
, to me. He shrugged, and then leaned in close and spoke in a low voice. “All I know is that my Uncle Rick woke him up in the middle of the night and told him to get out. There was smoke everywhere. Rob said he couldn’t see an inch in front of himself. My uncle managed to maneuver through the thick blackness and got Rob to the front lawn. Then he went back into the house to save my Aunt Maria. Neither one came out.” Eric’s voice was somber. “Rob stood and waited as tons of firemen broke windows and the whole back-end of the house to get them. The blaze was bad. Most of the rooms at the back of the house were severely damaged by the time the fire department got it under control. My aunt and uncle’s room looked like something out of a horror movie. The authorities suspected arson, but there was no evidence of that. My uncle was a scientist. He developed a lot of helpful things. But he wasn’t a mad scientist. However, he did have a lot of chemicals in the basement where he did his research.”

Rob
walked toward us with a cardboard tray filled with hot dogs and sodas.

Eric’s sudden halt in the conversation told me
he wasn’t supposed to share that much information. “Mandy is a senior,” he said to Rob. His pitch was higher, more upbeat now. “Maybe you’ll be in some of the same classes.”

“Yeah,” Rob said, “I’ve already asked for help with my homework.” The dimple appeared and my legs shook like
Jell-O. “Here, Dillon.” Rob handed him a hot dog.

Dillon took it, crossed his legs, and lowered himself onto the grass right where he was. Then he shoved
it into his mouth.

“Slowly,” I said, easing Dillon’s hand back. Then I took the spot on the ground next to him. Rob and Eric did the same and sat across from me.

Rob’s fingers brushed mine as he handed me my hot dog. They were warm and soft. My heart rate increased. “Thanks,” I said. My body tingled. His incredible blue eyes looked into mine; the dimple appeared. The whole park disappeared. I could only see him.

“Done!” Dillon said, h
olding his hands up, as if he was being robbed by ‘Billy the Kid’.

“Good job, Dill. Here’s a napkin,” I said. He gave a quick swipe across his mouth and handed it back to me.

“C’mon, Dillon,” Eric said, as he pushed the last of his second hot dog into his mouth. “Let’s play tag.” Eric flashed me a smile and offered a quick wink.

Dillon jumped up. “It. It.” And then
, he ran toward the swings.

An awkward silence settled over us.

“So
, you’re going to be a senior?” he asked, confirming what he already knew.

“Yeah
. You, too, from what Eric said.”

“Yeah. Did he tell you why I moved in with him?”

I nodded. “I’m sorry.” Telling the truth would be better than getting caught in a lie.

The palm of his hand skimmed the top of the blades of grass in front of him. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, at least not with a stranger. And that’s what I was. “Do you have any other brothers or sisters?” He didn’t look up when he asked.

“My brother, Bryan, is my triplet. He was born second. He’s the ‘B’; I’m the ‘A’.”

His focus changed from the grass to me. “And the ‘C’?”

“Cassandra didn’t live past a week. She had under-developed lungs. My mother was devastated. She went into a full-blown depression when she died. My grandmother had to move in with us for a while to take care of us so that my dad could work.” Rob stared at me. I felt as if I should explain further. “After a few years of therapy, my parents had Dillon. He was diagnosed with autism when he was four. My mom went into another tailspin. I can only imagine how difficult it’s been for her.”
Wow, way to keep the mystery, Mandy. Now he knows your whole life story. Why not tell him what size shoes you wear, too? Nice way to scare off the only guy who’s ever shown an interest in you
.
I needed to shut up. It was my turn to stroke the grass.

“I’m sorry,” Rob said.

I looked up at him. “Don’t be. Dillon is great. He may not be like other little brothers, but he’s very smart. You can count on him to make you work hard during a game of Scrabble with him.” I didn’t address how I felt about the rest of my family, particularly my mother.