Out of Nowhere(73)

“Nothing, man,” I say. “Gimme a sec.”

I change out of my sweats, shocked to see it’s ten in the morning. Oh fuck. Brian said he called me all day yesterday. That means I passed out hard. Lost a whole day. Missed both of Shelby’s feedings.

“Shit.” I hurry into the kitchen and tip food into Shelby’s bowl. At the sound, she comes galloping into the kitchen and shoves her face in the bowl.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” I whisper. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

I reach out a shaky hand to pet her, but she twists away.

“Sorry,” I murmur again and tip a little bit of extra food into her dish.

“Um, did you call Dan?” I ask.

Brian looks sheepish. “I forgot. Sam called him yesterday. He’s driving. Should be here tonight. So, um, do you want to come back to the house? I just thought, you know, we could hang together or whatever.”

No. I absolutely don’t want to go to Pop’s house when Pop’s not there anymore. But I’m afraid of what I might do if I stay here alone, so I grab my coat and my keys and follow Brian to his car. I look at my phone to see ten missed calls from Brian, but what I’m really looking for is the call from Rafe that isn’t there.

The desire that hits me is a physical ache so strong I wrap my arms around myself to try and contain it. I want to see Rafe. I want to see Rafe more than I want anything at this moment.





SAM, BRIAN, and I slump in the living room in the same configuration as always, the television droning in the background a prop so we don’t have to talk. After a couple of beers, I feel better. After a couple more, I feel worse. Liza brings some food over, but everything tastes like sand.

Another beer and I actually close my eyes and make a wish as I snap the pop tab off my beer. I wish that Rafe would, somehow, walk through the door. I want the weight of his hands on my shoulders, the pressure of his arms around me, the smell of his hair as it falls around my face.

But when someone does walk through the door, it’s the last person I want to see.

Daniel. And he has someone with him.

The second Daniel says “Hey” and his eyes land on me, I’m slammed by a combination of fury and jealousy so potent it takes my breath away.

“Um, this is Rex,” Daniel says tentatively. The guy with him is handsome in a rugged kind of way, and is sticking close enough to Daniel that he could reach out and touch him at any moment. Daniel leans against the wall and looks at us, as if he doesn’t even want to get close enough to sit on the furniture.

“Um, so what the fuck happened?” he asks. “Was Dad sick?”

I think back on all the times that Pop disappeared for hours during the middle of the day. The way he went to bed really early on Thanksgiving. I thought he was just drunk, but maybe… was he dying this whole time and I didn’t even notice?

“If he was, he didn’t say so,” Sam says.

“I don’t think he went to a doctor or anything,” Brian adds, looking at me for confirmation.

“So, he just dropped dead all of a sudden?” Daniel snaps, like he’s talking about a stranger. “Can you please tell me what happened?” He directs this to Sam, like Brian and I know nothing. My heart rate is kicking up and my skin is buzzing. As usual, Daniel sets me on edge with barely a word. He cares more about hearing the story than he even does that Pop’s dead.

I can hear the tears in Sam’s voice as he explains.

“Shit,” Daniel breathes. “So, the doctors said it was a heart attack? What else did they say?”

What does he want from us? Pop’s dead. We’ll never see him again and Daniel wants to show up and play I’m-smarter-than-you, as usual.

“Are you a fucking medical doctor now, too?” I say.

“No.” Daniel’s voice is shaking like it always does when he’s upset. “I just want to know what happened.”

“We’re having the funeral tomorrow,” Liza interrupts before I can tell Daniel to go fuck himself.

“Jesus, that’s fast,” Daniel says, frowning.

Sam explains that Vic got us an in at his cousin’s funeral parlor. He always was the most patient with Daniel’s need to know every fucking detail about every fucking thing.

“Seriously, Sam?” Daniel says scornfully. “Vic’s a fucking slimeball.” He always used to say Vic was so stupid he couldn’t believe he hadn’t died in traffic yet. Never mind that Vic’s cousin was the one who buried Mom, letting Pop pay him in trade because he couldn’t afford anything else.

“Just because you don’t like him…,” Brian chimes in.