Read Online These Gentle Wounds by Helene Dunbar - Free Book Online Page B

deep breaths and all those bad thoughts go back where they belong.
    Once Kevin catches up with me, I concentrate on how our steps are mostly synchronized and how good it feels to be outside with my brother when he isn’t being a total dick. I’m glad he isn’t ruining everything by pressing me for an answer.
    I don’t have to ask to know that we’re walking to the monastery. It doesn’t look like the ones in the movies. It isn’t some huge gothic marvel. It’s more of an old school that’s been turned into a non-denominational meeting hall. Two levels, red brick. Nothing cool. There’s a playground outside with all of the usual stuff you’d imagine. Swings, and a merry-go-round, and a wooden train you can climb on that looks like the engine from some oversized toy set.
    Jim used to bring us here all the time. I guess he didn’t really know what to do with kids in general and me in particular. I sometimes forget how hard it must have been for him to take us in.
    Before That Day, Jim would only see Kevin a couple of times a month, and he always used to buy him stuff. Kevin always chose things he could share with me, like candy or comics. So Jim started buying me something too and getting Kevin the stuff he really wanted: CDs of loud angry bands I didn’t like, or books on the lives of military guys who would find themselves in enemy territory and have to escape.
    As always, I follow Kevin over to the swings and we each take one. Before we sit down, I stick my hand into my pocket. My fingers hit paper and I pull it out. Uncrumple it.
    Seven numbers. Sarah’s number. I never called her.
    â€œCrap, I need a phone,” I say, pressing on my temples to stop the sudden pounding in my head.
    â€œDo you see a phone around here?” Kevin asks sarcastically.
    I hate that neither of us has a cell. Kevin’s allowance all goes to buy gas for the guzzling monstrosity he calls a car, and presumably toward saving for college, and Jim won’t buy me one. Not like I usually have anyone to call anyhow.
    â€œNo, but … ” I know he can’t just wave a wand and make a phone appear, but I need to call her and I know that thought is going to hound me until I can’t focus on anything else.
    â€œYou don’t really need a phone,” he says, in a tone that makes me want to rip his throat out. “Why, anyhow?”
    I show him the paper but he doesn’t get it.
    â€œSeriously. Come on,” I say, taking a few steps back toward the house. “I need to go back.”
    Kevin grabs my sleeve and pulls me down so I’m sitting on the next swing over from him. “Gordie, shut up for a minute. Just take a deep breath and stop talking.”
    He only calls me by name when he’s pissed or trying to make a point. I wonder which it is this time. I slump down and swing gently forward and back while I bite at the inside of my cheek to keep my mouth shut.
    â€œOkay,” he says. “First off, whose number is that?”
    I glare at him. “Sarah’s.”
    â€œThe Sarah from English?” A look of surprise dances across his face and then disappears. “She gave you her number?”
    â€œFor school.” My right foot kicks off the ground and pushes me higher. The swing set is creaking. It isn’t made for kids my age, but I’m pretty skinny for fifteen so I’m not too worried.
    Kevin looks at me with his mouth open. It’s clear he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. Fine. Whatever.
    I do my best to ignore him and just enjoy the way it feels to close my eyes as the swing falls backward toward the Earth. Eventually the pressing urge to call Sarah fades and becomes just something I need to do later.
    Next to me, Kevin clears his throat. “Thursday, Ice,” he says, which puzzles me. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
    The swing propels me up and past him. The whole planet seems so far beneath