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“I dunno, but if you’re calling at this hour it means something’s gone down, or somebody died, or both. Either way, I just wanted to put it out there that it wasn’t my doing.”
“Noted. Although I already knew that because your assumptions about the reason for my call were wrong. Nobody died, and nothing has gone down. Yet. Actually, that’s a lie. Something has gone down, but it’s nothing compared to what’s about to happen, thanks to the plan being hatched by our fearless leader.”
“Xavier?”
“No, Stalin. Yes, Xavier. Who the fuck else would I be talking about, the goddamned president?”
“Ha! Well, I would have thought that the only thing going down would have been him, on that waitress chick.”
I tried, and failed, to stifle my laughter. He was clearly still bombed from our night out.
“Have you been to bed yet?”
“No. And I should probably take this opportunity to point out that I’m still wasted with a capital W-A-S-T-E-D.”
“Well thanks for the PSA, but I’d figured that one out already.”
* * *
I snapped myself out of my flashback, bringing my attention back to the here and now, and what was going on in the car. In other words, I focused on Kik, casting her sidelong glances intermittently, as I drove us through the city to a neighborhood deep in the Bronx, where she lived. She looked tired, which was to be understood, but incredibly sad, too. Also completely understandable under the circumstances.
What was less comprehensible was the reason that her sadness gnawed away at me like a festering sore. Worse, the more I tried to understand it, the less I did. There was no logic to those feelings at all.
I wanted her. That made sense to anyone with eyes. I wanted her gone. That was perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances in which she’d come into my life. What wasn’t reasonable was the fact that I felt her pain, and wanted to do something to end it.
“What?” The irritation in her voice was unmistakable.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Not with your mouth, but you’ve been staring at me like I’m an alien beamed down from another planet. What’s your problem?”
“No problem, just thinking, that’s all. And I wasn’t staring, I was driving.”
“Driving, and eyeballing me at every opportunity.” She looked at me as though my stupidity knew no bounds, and I had to admit that I had some sympathy with that opinion.
“Okay, I was just thinking.” Accurately vague.
“Thinking about what?”
“A bunch of stuff…”
“Like?” She puffed her cheeks, and folded her arms, clearly losing patience.
I puffed out my cheeks, as well. “Like wondering what’s going on with you.”
“You mean apart from my dad wasting away before my eyes, and spiraling medical costs threatening to drag us under?”
“How is he?”
“That’s none of your business. None of this shit is. But if you must know, he’s been admitted to critical care, so you do the math.”
“I’m sorry.” I meant it.
“Fuck you.” I’d earned that, and more.
“Do you know how long he will be in there for?”
“Still none of your business. Listen, don’t feel the need to talk, especially if what you’re thinking of saying is some inane bullshit. I have a lot on my mind right now, and I really don’t need to pollute it by thinking about whatever it is you’re sending my way.”
