When did I start sounding like a parent?
Arturo Sees More Action Than Reality TV
Peter was waiting on the bottom step. Darryl was leaning on the bannister, looking up at us. I wasn’t surprised. I had figured Cai and I wouldn’t be going alone to the shrink’s office.
The moment the kid appeared behind me, they both started talking at once. I cut them off.
“Let’s go.” I turned to Rosa who was clanking about in the kitchen, loudly passive-aggressive in every slam of the pot. “They can stay,” I told her, “if you want to ride along.”
“The fuck we can,” Peter said. Darryl snarled at the same time, “No we fucking can’t!”
Rosa came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. It didn’t do any good. She took her son’s cheeks in her palms, leaving flour along his temple and near his ear. “You call when finished so I have lunch ready, yes?”
“Sure, mamma.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. She waited for the others to follow suit. Darryl gave her a reluctant peck, but Peter stormed out of the house, the door making a splintering sound as it bent on the hinges from the force of his anger. I cringed. Cai flinched. Darryl followed him out. And I’d swear my door whimpered.
“Why must he abuse my door? It’s the only fucking piece that isn’t suicidal cream or bowel-movement brown.”
“He’s so mad,” Cai said.
“At me, Nikë, not you. He loves you. Go now.” Rosa brushed his face free of flour and flitted us out the door.
In the parking lot Darryl stood at the passenger side, waiting with the door open and the seat tilted. Peter was in the back with Cai. I carefully slid into the driver’s seat and joined everyone in silence.
Ten minutes into the drive, I started tapping on the steering wheel and shifting off my ass cheek. Darryl flipped through radio stations. Peter stared at Cai. Cai drew breath pictures on the window.
No one would ever mistake this for a joyride. “No, this isn’t awkward at all,” I mumbled.
The tension shattered with thunder from Darryl. “You can’t leave, you ungrateful little dipshit!” He turned partway in his seat.
Cai sighed and continued his mist sketching. My eyes drifted to Peter. I finally got a glimpse of why Cai had nicknamed him Rabbit. He ripped pieces of his bottom lip with his front teeth and stared at my seat. His nose continuously twitched, eyes blinking rapidly. I hadn’t seen the manifestation of his Tourette’s until now. It was painful to watch him come apart and know there was nothing I could do about it. Legally, Rosa was Cai’s mother. If she wanted him with her….
“We’ll never see you again, Cai. That’s what they do. They take you away and cut off contact with everyone else,” Peter murmured.
“It’s only for a couple of years, Rabbit. Until I’m eighteen.”
“Just…I know things have been…bad the last few months.”
“We’ll do better, kiddo,” Darryl promised vehemently.
Cai said nothing the rest of the drive.
Kate’s building took up the entire block at the top of the 16th Street Mall, intersecting with the busiest street in Denver. Businesspeople trickled out the revolving doors, onto the plaza or took seats on the marble single-seat benches near the walkway.
Pulling in front, I turned the car off and watched Peter in the rearview mirror. His hands rubbed up and down his thighs, nose twitching even while he pulled his top lip into his mouth. I rubbed the ache in my chest and checked the time, disappointed that there wasn’t enough of it to climb back there to console him. “His appointment is in ten minutes. Let’s talk about this when he’s done. 18th floor, that building there.” I pointed and waited for a nod from the kid that he heard me. I would have missed it if I hadn’t been staring intently at him.
No one was talking. No one was moving. I motioned to Darryl. He pinched his lips and threw open the door, yanking the seat up. I resisted petting my poor abused car.
Cai picked a loose thread in his jeans, jaw trembling. “Let me go, Rabbit. I can’t live like this,” he pleaded. “I can’t be your penance anymore.”
Peter clasped his hands and viciously rubbed his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He’s dead, Rabbit. They’re both dead. You killed mine,” Peter’s head shot up, eyes widely staring at his brother, “—and I killed yours, and it’s over. They’re dead. Don’t look at Dare. It was Uncle Nikki who told me. He sat there that night, laughing. Bragging. Making his hand into a gun. Laughing about it.” Cai’s plucking became more intense, until a ribbon of flesh peeked through the cotton.