Somebody Else's Sky (Something in the Way #2)(36)

"I did, but I was self-taught or I learned on various jobs. Inside, I was forced to be involved in everything-planning, electrical, framing, roofing, welding, woodworking. When I got out of SHU, I spent a few months manufacturing furniture. It was a good education."

"You can do more now," I said. "You could be in charge on a site."

Manning cleared his throat but didn't look at me. "I could use some water if you don't mind," he said to nobody in particular.

I went and filled up a glass from the fridge while Mom took the steaks out to the grill. As soon as I gave him the water, he tilted back his head and drank. His throat worked, strong and veiny, his Adam's apple bobbing. When he'd downed half of it, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Was it bad in there?" I asked. I sought out his chocolate-brown eyes, but he stared into his drink. Do you hate me for what I did to you?



       
         
       
        

Tiffany set down her wineglass with a clink that echoed through the kitchen. "Don't be rude, Lake."

I wasn't sure how that was rude, it seemed worse not to ask.

We ate on the patio. January nights called for it. But even outdoors, tension thickened the air. Dad wasn't happy. Tiffany stole glances at him and then Manning. Manning barely let an emotion surface. Mom had chosen a safe topic-décor for Tiffany's apartment-that didn't include me because I'd never decorated anything other than a wall in my room. But to be fair, it was a good wall that I was pretty sure Manning would appreciate. I'd cut up the inside flaps off some of my favorite albums, and hopefully my favorites were Manning's, too. Pearl Jam, Jeff Buckley, Pink Floyd. I'd posted the album cover for The Dark Side of the Moon above the one of The Wall. The irony of that was lost on everyone in my family, or they just had no sense of humor was more like it.

"What are your plans, Manning?" Dad asked finally, cutting Tiffany off in the middle of a story about mispriced picture frames at Nordstrom. Sometimes I felt as if I worked there, too, I knew so much about that place.

"Maybe we can talk about that another time, Charles," Mom said. "Let Manning just enjoy his meal."

"It's okay." Manning swallowed his food, clearing his throat, the only sound except for crickets chirping on the other side of the pool. "I won't lie. I don't know yet."

"No?" Dad cut aggressively into his meat, and I jumped when his knife scraped the plate. "But you'll be living with Tiffany."

"Yes, sir. At least, as long as she wants me there."

Tiffany tried to throw an arm over Manning's broad shoulders, but could only clasp as far as his neck. "I want you there, babe."

She and Dad exchanged a look, but he quickly refocused on cutting his steak. "What about work?"

"He hasn't even been out twenty-four hours," Tiffany said.

"And he's had a lot of time with nothing to do but sit and think about it."

"I'm looking for something in construction," Manning said, his voice deeper than usual. "I've got word out that I'll take anything."

"That sounds wise," Dad said. "It's not as if you'll have a shot at law enforcement now."

I set down my fork. Dad wanted to embarrass Manning by pointing out his mistakes, but he didn't know those mistakes were mine. I was the one who was embarrassed. I'd ruined Manning's future, probably in ways I still didn't even know about.

Manning caught my eye. He stared hard at me as he intoned, "Like I said, I no longer want that. I don't. Not at all." 

"Why not?" Dad asked. "A little disillusioned now, I imagine."

"You could say that."

"We'll find you something else, babe," Tiffany said.

I looked at Tiffany. She needed to stop using the word babe before I flipped out. It sounded worse than Dad's steak knife scraping the china.

"I have some money saved up from inside," Manning said.

Dad looked impressed. "How'd you manage that?"

Manning didn't answer. "I'm happy to help with the rent."

"Don't worry about that," Mom said. "You just focus on finding work. Use what you have to get yourself a nice suit for interviews."

Manning closed his mouth, his jaw ticking. This was too much for me. I couldn't imagine how hard it was for him. I wanted it all to go away. To go back in time and undo the mess I'd made. Opening my mouth to tell the truth would just make things worse. I was trapped.

Mom stood from the table. "I think we have some ice cream. How's that sound?"

Nobody answered.