Read Online Believe: (Intermix) (True Believers) by Erin McCarthy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Erin McCarthy
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Or maybe my aunt was pregnant with him at the time. I don’t know, I don’t remember. I just remember thinking that it was like a whole fairground full of families doing normal shit and having fun and eating craploads of food, and I couldn’t have any of it.” Phoenix made a face. “And I have no idea why I just bored you with a shitty story like that.”
What did I say to that? I knew he didn’t want my pity. And he seemed to be musing about the past more than anything. “I don’t have any hot dogs,” I said. “But I can pretty much guarantee insects and oppressive sun, so you’ll get the genuine picnic experience.”
Phoenix gave a short laugh. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”
“When I was ten I had a bird shit on my head at the fair. I tried to wash it out in the bathroom but it was still gunky and I cried for an hour before insisting on sitting in the car alone sulking.” The memory made me smile. “I was kind of a jerk about it. And my brothers called me Shithead for the rest of the summer.”
“Brothers are good for that. Probably the only reason I’m glad I don’t have any. Are they older than you?”
“Yes.” We started down the stairs. “They’re thirty and twenty-seven. I was born when my brother was in kindergarten. I think I was a bit of a surprise.” Though I was pretty confident it was a happy surprise. My mother had always wanted a girl, and one of her favorite things to do was take me for a mani/pedi.
“Why is everyone so surprised by pregnancy?” Phoenix asked. “If you have sex, the probability is there.”
Wondering if he was thinking about Angel, I locked the front door behind us. “True. But my mom is sixty now. I think she thought she was too old to get pregnant again.”
“I don’t know how old my mom is,” he said as we walked down the driveway. There was a frown on his face. “I guess she has to be about . . . forty-three?”
“How old are you?” I asked him, starting to hate his mother. She sounded awful. We got in my car, Phoenix loading the cooler and blanket into the backseat.
“I’m twenty. My birthday is September second.”
“That’s in a week and a half. Do you have plans?”
“I plan to sit outside somewhere and appreciate my freedom. Maybe I’ll buy myself a Dilly Bar at DQ.”
It had been a stupid question. What kind of plans did I expect him to have? A big event at a restaurant? A party bus? “That sounds awesome. Can I steal that idea for my birthday in November? It’ll be my twenty-first, too, and I know everyone is going to expect me to go out and party and get loaded and it just isn’t my thing. Not anymore.”
“It’s your birthday. Do whatever you want. Fuck ’em.”
“I have a feeling you’re better at living that philosophy than I am. I worry too much about what people think.” Part my personality, part the way I’d been raised, I was definitely a people pleaser. I wanted everyone to be happy. To like me. I backed down the driveway and paused at the street, but as I looked left and the right, I saw Phoenix was doing it again, staring at me in a way I didn’t understand.
“We’re pack animals. It’s natural to want to belong. But some of us never will. We’re meant to be alone.”
Was that me now? God, I hoped not. I was so lonely I ached with it. But here, in the hot car with Phoenix, I felt like at least one person understood what I felt like, and I wondered if two loners could make each other less lonely. So far, the answer for me was yes.
“Do you want to drive?” I asked, putting my car in park. I didn’t want to have to focus on the road. I wanted to watch him, and I wanted to feel . . . I don’t know . . . taken care of.
But he shook his head. “I don’t have any insurance.” Then for some reason he laughed. “Actually, I don’t even have a license.”
“You don’t have a license? I thought you said you borrowed Riley’s car. Why don’t you have a license?”
“Long story.” He
What did I say to that? I knew he didn’t want my pity. And he seemed to be musing about the past more than anything. “I don’t have any hot dogs,” I said. “But I can pretty much guarantee insects and oppressive sun, so you’ll get the genuine picnic experience.”
Phoenix gave a short laugh. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”
“When I was ten I had a bird shit on my head at the fair. I tried to wash it out in the bathroom but it was still gunky and I cried for an hour before insisting on sitting in the car alone sulking.” The memory made me smile. “I was kind of a jerk about it. And my brothers called me Shithead for the rest of the summer.”
“Brothers are good for that. Probably the only reason I’m glad I don’t have any. Are they older than you?”
“Yes.” We started down the stairs. “They’re thirty and twenty-seven. I was born when my brother was in kindergarten. I think I was a bit of a surprise.” Though I was pretty confident it was a happy surprise. My mother had always wanted a girl, and one of her favorite things to do was take me for a mani/pedi.
“Why is everyone so surprised by pregnancy?” Phoenix asked. “If you have sex, the probability is there.”
Wondering if he was thinking about Angel, I locked the front door behind us. “True. But my mom is sixty now. I think she thought she was too old to get pregnant again.”
“I don’t know how old my mom is,” he said as we walked down the driveway. There was a frown on his face. “I guess she has to be about . . . forty-three?”
“How old are you?” I asked him, starting to hate his mother. She sounded awful. We got in my car, Phoenix loading the cooler and blanket into the backseat.
“I’m twenty. My birthday is September second.”
“That’s in a week and a half. Do you have plans?”
“I plan to sit outside somewhere and appreciate my freedom. Maybe I’ll buy myself a Dilly Bar at DQ.”
It had been a stupid question. What kind of plans did I expect him to have? A big event at a restaurant? A party bus? “That sounds awesome. Can I steal that idea for my birthday in November? It’ll be my twenty-first, too, and I know everyone is going to expect me to go out and party and get loaded and it just isn’t my thing. Not anymore.”
“It’s your birthday. Do whatever you want. Fuck ’em.”
“I have a feeling you’re better at living that philosophy than I am. I worry too much about what people think.” Part my personality, part the way I’d been raised, I was definitely a people pleaser. I wanted everyone to be happy. To like me. I backed down the driveway and paused at the street, but as I looked left and the right, I saw Phoenix was doing it again, staring at me in a way I didn’t understand.
“We’re pack animals. It’s natural to want to belong. But some of us never will. We’re meant to be alone.”
Was that me now? God, I hoped not. I was so lonely I ached with it. But here, in the hot car with Phoenix, I felt like at least one person understood what I felt like, and I wondered if two loners could make each other less lonely. So far, the answer for me was yes.
“Do you want to drive?” I asked, putting my car in park. I didn’t want to have to focus on the road. I wanted to watch him, and I wanted to feel . . . I don’t know . . . taken care of.
But he shook his head. “I don’t have any insurance.” Then for some reason he laughed. “Actually, I don’t even have a license.”
“You don’t have a license? I thought you said you borrowed Riley’s car. Why don’t you have a license?”
“Long story.” He
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