True (9 page)

Because I was standing there, and for the first time, really, I felt like I was of worth, of value, to someone. I was comforting him and that made me feel important. That I had something to give.

“Rory,” he murmured against my lips. “God, you feel so good. Why wouldn’t you talk to me all week? It was driving me crazy.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight against his chest.

Dropping back down to the soles of my feet, I ran my fingers over the stubble of his beard. He needed to shave. “Because I was afraid. I didn’t think that you really liked me.” That was true. “I kept waiting to be the punch line.”

“Why?” he asked, puzzled. “Why would you think that?”

“Because guys like you don’t like girls like me.”

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “And girls like you don’t like guys like me.”

“Except apparently in our case.” This was his last chance to bail.

But he didn’t. He just kissed me, softly. “Because we’re amazingly awesome, that’s why.”

“I agree. Now let’s go to the grocery store.”

He stiffened. “You’re going to the grocery store with me?”

“Sure, why not? I don’t have any other plans, and I like the grocery store. It’s very organized. It soothes my mathematical soul.”

He laughed and it was a sound of relief. “Well, then, okay. Let’s go.”

In the car, he started the engine and said, “I should explain a few things.”

“Not if you don’t want to.” I knew it was hard to talk about private things, especially when it came to family.

“No, I want to. I don’t want you to think that I haven’t thought about other options for my brothers. But the truth is, there aren’t any. I’m sure you noticed that Easton doesn’t have the same father as the rest of us. The thing is, my mom never said anything to my dad. Hell, maybe she didn’t know, I don’t know. But no one knew Easton wasn’t my dad’s until he was born. When my mom came home from the hospital she got of the car and my dad ran her over with it.”

“
What?
”

“Yeah, I don’t know how he didn’t kill her, honestly. I was standing on the front porch waiting for her and I saw the whole thing. He just drove over her like she was a Coke can. I was twelve.”

“Oh my God.” I couldn’t even comprehend. I just stared at Tyler’s profile as he drove.

“My dad wound up in prison and my mom had a lot of injuries. It messed up her back and her elbow real bad, and that’s how she started using prescription drugs. Before that she always drank, but not as much as my dad. He was a real violent drunk. But once she got on the pills to help with the pain, she became a full-blown alcoholic. My dad got out of prison briefly but violated his parole by robbing a liquor store, so he’s away for probably ten years this time.”

Reaching over, I linked my hand with his and squeezed it. He gave me a half-smile. “So there’s not much money and she’s always up and down, but the thing is, never once has she hit Jayden or Easton. She only hits me and I can handle it. She used to lit into Riley, too, but he had a hard time controlling his temper. One time he hit her back so he decided it was time to move out. He’s twenty-five and he works in construction and he lives in a buddy’s basement. He’s helping me pay for school so that I can get a decent job and we can get an apartment. Between the two of us, we can take care of the boys. That’s the plan. I don’t want to involve the courts, though, because they’ll put them in foster care first. I can’t do that to them, because who the hell knows what will happen? If we just play it cool and move them out to a place with Riley, she probably won’t do anything about it. We’re laying the foundation, you know? But I can’t move out. It would set her over the edge. She needs a punching bag, and I’m it.”

There was more to it than that. He didn’t say it, but I could hear it. He couldn’t abandon her. He couldn’t leave her alone without anyone, and I felt my respect for him grow.

“That’s not very fair to you,” I said. “But I completely understand why you’re doing what you do. It must be nice to have brothers who care that much about you and the other way around. It’s lonely being an only child.”

“Yeah?” He shot me a teasing look as we entered the supermarket parking lot. “Were you just too much for your parents to handle? Wild child Rory?”

I laughed. “Yeah, right. Actually, when my mother was pregnant with me they discovered she had uterine cancer. She chose not to do radiation so that hopefully she could deliver me. The doctors thought she was insane. They urged her to have an abortion, but she refused. I was born six weeks early, then they gave her intensive chemo and radiation. She went into remission and everyone said it was a miracle.” I shrugged. “But she couldn’t have any more kids, obviously. Then when I was seven, it came back.”

“Holy shit. That sucks.”

“Yeah. I felt guilty, you know, that I killed her. If she hadn’t been pregnant, it wouldn’t have grown so fast.” I realized that I had never told anyone that before. I had never said it, because I had never wanted to acknowledge the guilt I felt. I had wondered if my father felt that way too, if he regretted having me, because if it weren’t for me, his wife would still be alive.

“Cancer wasn’t your fault, Rory. Hell, if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, maybe she wouldn’t have caught it at all the first time, and she wouldn’t have had even those seven years.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

As we walked into the grocery store, my small cold hand wrapped in his big callused one, I marveled at the strange places and people we could draw comfort from, when we didn’t even know we needed it.

Chapter Nine

I had never grocery-shopped with anyone else before. By the time I was around sixteen and had my license, my dad and I had taken to shopping separately, filling the kitchen with our own personal preferences. My dad gave me fifty bucks a week to pick up what I wanted, and I gravitated toward yogurt and vegetables to snack on, and on occasion, lean meats to cook for my dad and me. Rarely, if ever, did I buy something out of a can. Tyler bought only cans.

As the pile of processed and packaged foods like SpaghettiOs and jellied cranberries grew higher in the cart, I asked, “Do you have a problem with fruits and vegetables?”

He shrugged, grabbing crackers and the Pop Tarts Jayden had requested. “No. They just require effort. Like chopping and shit. Plus they go bad fast.”

“Like chopping and shit,” I repeated. “So cutting the stems off strawberries is more time-consuming than opening up a can of sugary cranberries?”

“Yes,” he said, like this was obvious. He was leaning over the cart, dwarfing it with his broad shoulders, and there was nothing domestic about the way he looked, tattoos and Iron Maiden shirt, his jeans sporting a few holes in the knees.

The store was right down the street from his house, and it was a business that had a firm grip on its demographics. Beer, potato chips, and marshmallows were on special right as you walked in, and there was no fancy sushi counter, no floral department, no extensive wine department like the grocery store by my suburban house. The floors were dirty, and the deli smelled like the slicers hadn’t been cleaned in longer than I cared to think about.

Maternal instincts I didn’t even know I had were suddenly springing up, and I found myself saying, “Come on. We’re swinging back through produce.”

As I put a bag of baby carrots in the cart, I told him, “You don’t have to cut these. Just eat them.”

“Why?” he asked. “They don’t taste like anything.”

“Trust me,” I told him, suddenly feeling proud of myself. I had never really thought about it, but I could cook. I made dinner for me and my dad all the time at home, and I could Google a recipe faster than anyone. This was something I could contribute to another human being, other than the assurance that someday I would put my intelligence to use. After med school. This was
now
. “I’m making dinner tonight.”

“Rory, you don’t have to cook for me.” He actually looked alarmed at the thought.

“Why, you don’t think I can do it?” I asked defensively, scanning the racks for garlic bulbs.

“I’m sure you can do it. It’s just . . . you saw my house. Nobody cooks in my house. I’m not even sure we have more than one pot.”

“Well, tonight I’m cooking,” I told him. “So deal with it.” I marched down aisles, adding ingredients I would need, including a bag of chicken breasts and disposable plastic food containers I could use to keep chopped fruits and vegetables for his brothers to eat during the week.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, as I waited in the deli line for Swiss.

When I turned back around, plastic bag of cheese slices in my hand, I saw he had added a case of beer and three packs of cigarettes to the cart.

“I’m done shopping,” he said with a grin.

“Nice.” I couldn’t help but smile at him in return. “They probably won’t let you buy that with me standing next to you, though. They’ll try to card me, too.”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Have you looked around? This isn’t exactly a quality establishment. Not only will they not card you, they won’t even card me. Plus I bet if you go in the back room you can get a tattoo.”

I laughed. “I’ll pass.”

He was right. They didn’t card him. The cashier didn’t even look at us as she dragged our items over the belt. I started to pull my wallet out of my purse as I saw the total climbing past forty dollars.

Tyler’s hand came out and covered mine, preventing me from taking out my money. “Rory, you are not buying this food,” he said quietly. “And if you try, I swear to God, I will lose my shit. You’re doing too much already.”

My hand stilled and I fished around under my wallet. “I’m getting a breath mint,” I lied, pulling the little box out. Sometimes pride saw us through a lot, and I knew he needed his.

It was the right response. He gave a smirk as he pulled his wallet out and counted bills. “You planning on making out with someone later?”

“That depends on you.”

“Oh, yeah?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. If you behave yourself.”

“Wow. Getting sassy, aren’t you?”

“I am, aren’t I?” I asked in amazement. “I didn’t know I knew how to do that.”

Tyler snorted. “You’re cute, do you know that?” He turned to the bored cashier, who was sixty-five and chewing gum, her arms crossed over her ginormous breasts as she waited for Tyler to give her his money. “Isn’t she cute?” he asked the cashier.

The cashier’s eyes swept over me, cracking her gum. “Adorable,” she said, in a completely monotone voice.

“Tyler!” I said, mortified.

But he just laughed and paid for the groceries, including the bottle of disinfectant spray I had managed to put in the cart without him noticing.

***

“Like this,” I told Tyler and his brothers, showing them how to bring down the knife at an angle to pop the stem off each strawberry. I had chicken in the oven and carrots cooking in a glaze on the stove top, potatoes boiling beside them. The strawberries were supposed to be for dessert, served with the shortcakes I had bought. Or put in the cart. Tyler had bought them.

Jayden and Easton were standing beside me, intently studying my motion and trying to emulate it. Tyler had already set his knife down. “My fingers are too big to do this,” he declared and popped the top off a beer on the counter’s edge.

I thought he just had zero interest in cooking, but I didn’t say anything. He had been busy watching us and giving commentary on what we were doing as he cleaned the kitchen. When we unloaded the bags, he’d found the cleaner and had proceeded to scrub the kitchen table and counter, and mop the floor with it. He’d taken out the last of the trash after tossing everything that was bad out of the fridge. I hoped I hadn’t embarrassed him. That wasn’t my intention at all. But he didn’t look upset. Nor did he look like he’d never cleaned before. I had a feeling he did this more often than anyone would ever suspect but that it was a losing battle. With the filth gone, and the stench replaced by pine cleaner and baking chicken, the room was a lot more pleasant. But it was still a dingy, worn kitchen, with cracked linoleum, peeling floor tiles, and walls that probably hadn’t been painted in thirty years. A yellow phone was still on the jack, its cord entwined around itself, trailing down the wall, forlorn and forgotten. I’m sure it didn’t work, but no one had ever bothered to take it down.

“Am I doing this right?” Easton asked anxiously.

“Don’t cut off your finger,” Tyler called from the back deck, where he was flinging the trash.

“You’re doing awesome,” I told him. “And the best part of being the person who cuts the fruit is that you get to sneak some.” I popped a strawberry in my mouth.

Jayden did the same. “Holy crap, that’s good!” he said.

Tyler laughed at Jayden’s enthusiasm.

When we sat down at the table five minutes later, the chicken, mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots on four mismatched plates, Jayden was downright ecstatic. “I really like you,” he told me with pure adoration in his voice. He had that awesome guilelessness that people with Down’s have, and I smiled at him.

“I like you, too, Jayden.”

“Hey, careful there now, buddy,” Tyler told him. “Rory’s here with me, you know.” He leaned over and kissed my temple. “I think what my brother means is, thank you for dinner.”

“Yeah, thanks, Rory,” Jayden said, his mouth full of mashed potatoes.

“You’re welcome.” I felt ridiculously pleased.

Easton was studying his carrots like they were going to bite him. “You don’t have to eat those,” I told him. “I didn’t know what you like or don’t like.”

“At least try them,” Tyler urged, rubbing Easton’s head back and forth, causing his fork to vibrate on his plate. “You don’t even know if you like them or not because I honestly don’t think you’ve ever had a carrot.”

“Yeah. Don’t be a dick, Easton,” Jayden told him.

Tyler let out a loud laugh. “Dude, you have a fucking potty mouth.”

“Do you hear the irony in what you just said?” I asked him, taking a bite of chicken.

“Nope,” he declared, even though he clearly did.

Easton licked a carrot suspiciously. He seemed to deem it acceptable, putting it into his mouth, but he carefully set his fork back down and chewed methodically. Jayden and Tyler were shoving food into their mouths like it was going to disappear if they didn’t inhale it.

“Did you get me a job application?” Jayden asked Tyler.

“No, sorry, man, I forgot.”

“I need a job, Tyler. How else am I going to get my tattoo?” He tapped his bicep, which admittedly was not in the same condition as Tyler’s. He had the soft muscle tone most Down’s kids seem to have.

“What do you a want a tattoo of?” I asked him. Jayden was easy to talk to, easy to like.

“The same one that Tyler and Riley have.
TRUE Family
.” He tapped his arm again.

My heart pretty much collapsed in my chest in a giant mass of liquid Jell-O. “That would be cool.”

“U thinks a tattoo will help him with the ladies,” Tyler said, with a wink at his brother. “Right, bro?”

Jayden caught on that Tyler was teasing him, and he said loudly in annoyance, “Well, it worked for you! You got Rory, didn’t you?”

“You think Rory only likes me for my tattoos?” Tyler gave me an amused look and picked up his bottle to take a long drink.

“Why else would she like you? It’s not like you have a big dick or anything.”

I dropped my fork and my jaw. Hello.

Tyler’s beer shot out his nose at Jayden’s pronouncement and he thumped at his chest, choking and laughing. “What do you know about how big my dick is or isn’t?” Then he held his hand up, still wheezing and chuckling. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. We shouldn’t be talking about this shit at the dinner table. It’s not good manners.”

“It isn’t?” Jayden asked.

“No. Genitalia has no business at the dinner table. Right, Easton?”

His little brother shrugged, still chewing the same carrot. It had to be like baby food in his mouth by now.

“Why does Tyler call you U?” I asked Jayden.

“Because my mom always calls me ‘Hey, you,’ so we shortened it to U.” Jayden didn’t seem at all bothered by that.

Me, on the other hand, I wanted to cry again.

“That doesn’t seem very nice,” I said.

Jayden just shrugged. “It’s easier to spell and it fits in the tattoo. It makes it perfect.” He looked proud of that fact.

“Yeah, without the
U
we don’t spell a damn thing,” Tyler told him, leaning over the table to fist bump with him. “We need you. Ha ha. Get it? You? U? God, I’m funny.”

“You’re stupid,” Jayden told him good-naturedly.

“Are you sleeping here tonight?” Easton asked, pureed carrot sliding out onto his lip as he spoke. The question seemed innocent enough, but there was fear in his dark eyes.

“Yeah.” Tyler studied his brother carefully, before putting his hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “After dinner I need to take Rory home, but then I’ll be right back. Promise.”

“Will you read
Harry Potter
to me?”

Easton seemed younger than his ten years to me, both in appearance and mannerisms, and I wondered how he did at school. I couldn’t imagine things were easy for him.

“Sure,” Tyler said easily.

“I don’t have to leave yet,” I blurted out, then shoved more potatoes in my mouth, embarrassed at how that sounded. I didn’t normally invite myself to places. “I mean, I don’t want to interrupt your night. You can just take me home whenever.”

“Okay,” Tyler said, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Can you spend the night?” Jayden asked, leaning over and licking the remaining glaze off of his plate. Every last bite of food was gone.

“I . . .” My cheeks burned. If I said either yes or no, I was possibly going to look bad to Tyler. I would look desperate if I said yes, rude if I said no. I felt backed into a super awkward corner. Besides, as it was I wasn’t sure if I was ready for sex at all, so I certainly didn’t want to do it with his brothers in the next room. Or hell, for all I knew, the same room. But Tyler wouldn’t either. Right? Did he even want to have sex with me? Or did he just want to be friends who kissed each other?

The silence was deafening.

Tyler said to Jayden, “Only if Rory wants to. And you can’t expect her to make you breakfast.” Then he looked at me, eyes burning with desire and something else that I couldn’t quite gauge. But it didn’t look like a friends-only stare. “I would really like it. But I’m selfish that way. You should definitely feel like you can say no.”

“No, I’ll stay,” I said, striving for casual. “I would like that, too.” Actually, I wasn’t sure if I was going to like it or not. It wasn’t exactly my element, but at the same time, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted access to this other side of Tyler, the one no one at school had seen. I wanted this view of siblings, a tight bond, even in such dysfunctional circumstances.

“Cool.” Then Tyler shoved his chair back suddenly, taking his plate to the sink. His hand immediately went for his pocket to pull out a cigarette.

I stared at him, realizing that if he were a gambler, smoking would be his tell. It gave away when he was nervous or uncomfortable. He wasn’t any more at ease with us sleeping together than I was, and for some reason, that instantly made me feel better.

“What?” he asked, when he realized I was watching him.

I shook my head. “Nothing.” Maybe people weren’t so hard to figure out after all.

Ten minutes later, when Jayden and I were sitting on the couch together, plates of berries and shortcake on our laps as we watched
SpongeBob
on TV, I could see Tyler and Easton out of the corner of my eye in the kitchen. Their chairs were drawn close together, heads bent down over the library book Tyler had produced from his room. As Tyler’s voice carried across the room, a steady murmur as he read the story, his arm snaked over the back of Easton’s chair, and the boy’s slight form leaned almost imperceptibly into his brother’s strong embrace.