Read Online The Things a Brother Knows by Dana Reinhardt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dana Reinhardt
Ads: Link
something. He’s going somewhere, and I don’t know why, or where, or what he’s going to do, but it doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right.”
I sit in the sticky silent company of my grandfather.
Waiting.
“There are resources, Levi. Things we can look into if it gets to that. This I’ve talked about with your parents. But we’re not there yet. He was screened before his release, and he’s been deemed healthy. And for now at least, we need to give that the benefit of the doubt.”
“Okay.”
Dov puts his hand on the back of my neck. He grabs my hair with his fist and gives it a tug.
“You’re a good boy, Levi,” he says. “A good, good boy.”
Just like she promised, Christina stops by. It’s a Saturday afternoon. Mom and Abba are off at a movie. It’s the thing they still do together, go to the movies. It doesn’t matter thetopic, the style, the genre—for them, each and every movie is an escape.
I’m sitting on the steps when Christina arrives, watching Zim’s little brother mow my lawn. It used to be my job, but I guess Mom got sick of nagging me. Then Mini Chubby Zim, who gets his entrepreneurial streak from his older brother, went and started a neighborhood lawn-mowing business. Not that I want him out of a job, and God knows the kid needs the exercise, but as I sit here I think,
No more
.
From this day on, I mow my own lawn.
Christina checks her reflection in her rearview mirror before stepping out of the car. She’s wearing a tank top and cutoff jean shorts that highlight the miraculous length of her legs. In her bare feet she still stands a good inch taller than me.
She sits down and pushes up her sunglasses. I’ve never been so close to that butterfly in all my life and it takes superhuman strength not to reach out and touch it.
“For the record, his name is Max,” she says. “And he’s really very nice.”
“Who?”
“My boyfriend.”
“Oh. Him.”
She takes a long sip from the iced coffee she brought with her.
“You know, when Boaz and I were together … that was years ago. I mean, so much has—”
“You don’t need to tell me this,” I say, even though I’ve more or less demanded she explain herself by acting like her jilted lover. Jesus, I’m pathetic.
“I know. It’s just that—”
“Look,” I say. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
We sit like this on the steps for a while, long after the lawn is done.
“So? How should we do this?” she finally asks.
“I hadn’t planned that far ahead.”
“Should I go up to his room?”
I think about the stale air. The mattress on the floor. The tangle of clothes and sheets. The maps everywhere.
I think about that day I walked in on them.
“No, let me. You stay here.”
It’s cool inside the house. Quiet. My eyes take time adjusting from the brightness of the day. I put the pads of my fingers to Boaz’s door. I scratch lightly with what’s left of my compulsively bitten nails.
“Boaz?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
“Hold on.”
He comes to the door. He cracks it open and then fills up the space.
“What’s up?”
“Christina Crowley is here to see you.”
I don’t know why I use her last name. Like there could ever be another Christina.
“I know,” he says.
“You do?”
He gestures over his shoulder. “I saw her car.”
That he bothers to pull up the shade and look out hiswindow strikes me as a gigantic leap in the right direction. Funny how quickly the little things become the big things.
“She’d like to see you.”
Boaz shifts uncomfortably. He moves something from one hand to the other and then holds it behind his back. A shoe box. I recognize it immediately. The black and red top and the picture of a clown in comically large shoes. It’s a box from Marty Muldoon’s. They used to give out Tootsie Pops with your sneakers and they went out of business around the time I grew too old to shop there anymore.
Boaz used to keep that box in the back of his
I sit in the sticky silent company of my grandfather.
Waiting.
“There are resources, Levi. Things we can look into if it gets to that. This I’ve talked about with your parents. But we’re not there yet. He was screened before his release, and he’s been deemed healthy. And for now at least, we need to give that the benefit of the doubt.”
“Okay.”
Dov puts his hand on the back of my neck. He grabs my hair with his fist and gives it a tug.
“You’re a good boy, Levi,” he says. “A good, good boy.”
Just like she promised, Christina stops by. It’s a Saturday afternoon. Mom and Abba are off at a movie. It’s the thing they still do together, go to the movies. It doesn’t matter thetopic, the style, the genre—for them, each and every movie is an escape.
I’m sitting on the steps when Christina arrives, watching Zim’s little brother mow my lawn. It used to be my job, but I guess Mom got sick of nagging me. Then Mini Chubby Zim, who gets his entrepreneurial streak from his older brother, went and started a neighborhood lawn-mowing business. Not that I want him out of a job, and God knows the kid needs the exercise, but as I sit here I think,
No more
.
From this day on, I mow my own lawn.
Christina checks her reflection in her rearview mirror before stepping out of the car. She’s wearing a tank top and cutoff jean shorts that highlight the miraculous length of her legs. In her bare feet she still stands a good inch taller than me.
She sits down and pushes up her sunglasses. I’ve never been so close to that butterfly in all my life and it takes superhuman strength not to reach out and touch it.
“For the record, his name is Max,” she says. “And he’s really very nice.”
“Who?”
“My boyfriend.”
“Oh. Him.”
She takes a long sip from the iced coffee she brought with her.
“You know, when Boaz and I were together … that was years ago. I mean, so much has—”
“You don’t need to tell me this,” I say, even though I’ve more or less demanded she explain herself by acting like her jilted lover. Jesus, I’m pathetic.
“I know. It’s just that—”
“Look,” I say. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
We sit like this on the steps for a while, long after the lawn is done.
“So? How should we do this?” she finally asks.
“I hadn’t planned that far ahead.”
“Should I go up to his room?”
I think about the stale air. The mattress on the floor. The tangle of clothes and sheets. The maps everywhere.
I think about that day I walked in on them.
“No, let me. You stay here.”
It’s cool inside the house. Quiet. My eyes take time adjusting from the brightness of the day. I put the pads of my fingers to Boaz’s door. I scratch lightly with what’s left of my compulsively bitten nails.
“Boaz?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
“Hold on.”
He comes to the door. He cracks it open and then fills up the space.
“What’s up?”
“Christina Crowley is here to see you.”
I don’t know why I use her last name. Like there could ever be another Christina.
“I know,” he says.
“You do?”
He gestures over his shoulder. “I saw her car.”
That he bothers to pull up the shade and look out hiswindow strikes me as a gigantic leap in the right direction. Funny how quickly the little things become the big things.
“She’d like to see you.”
Boaz shifts uncomfortably. He moves something from one hand to the other and then holds it behind his back. A shoe box. I recognize it immediately. The black and red top and the picture of a clown in comically large shoes. It’s a box from Marty Muldoon’s. They used to give out Tootsie Pops with your sneakers and they went out of business around the time I grew too old to shop there anymore.
Boaz used to keep that box in the back of his
Similar Books
