Page 68 of You Say It First

“Bye,” he said.

Colby hung up and stared out at the empty road for a moment longer. Then he turned around and went back to his friends.

June seeped by in a hot, colorless blur. Colby slept a lot. He had no fucking job to speak of. Mostly, he drove around, but he wasn’t going to be able to keep doing that much longer, either, since he had next to no money for gas. He spent a lot of time at Paradise, lying on the hood of the car and staring up at the light flickering through the leaves on the trees.

That was what he was doing one afternoon when he heard Matt’s car pulling down the dusty path, the distinctive hum of his engine. Colby wondered how Matt had known he was here, then decided it didn’t matter. Matt got out of his car and came over to Colby’s, sitting next to him on the hood without bothering to ask if he could. “Where’d that come from?” he asked, motioning with his freshly shaven chin.

Colby looked at the Annie Hernandez yard sign he’d plunked into the weedy grass, then back at Matt. “Dunno,” he lied, shrugging a little. Truthfully, it had cost ten bucks he didn’t have. “Was here when I showed up.”

Matt looked skeptical, but he didn’t comment. “I brought lunch.”

Why? Colby thought, but that felt unnecessary, and he was hungry besides. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the Subway bag from his brother’s outstretched hand.

Matt nodded. “How was your wedding?”

Colby busied himself unwrapping his sandwich; Matt had sprung for the meatball marinara, which was both of their favorite. “It sucked, actually.”

“Too bad.”

Colby shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said through a huge bite of meatball. “I barely knew her.”

“Really?” Matt seemed surprised by that. “I would have thought you really liked her, if you could be fucked to drive all the way to Philly.”

“Yeah, well,” Colby said, hoping Matt would take the hint and move on. “Waste of gas.”

Matt did, but only sort of: “What happened with Doug?” he asked instead, like possibly he’d made a list of annoying, invasive questions in his head on the drive over here and was determined to work his way through each and every one. “You start working for him yet or what?”

Colby shook his head. “Didn’t work out.”

Matt smirked over his sub. “Because he tried to date you?”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Colby snapped, surprising himself a little. “I swear to God, Matt, you say shit like that and it makes you sound like a joke, not him.”

Matt raised his eyebrows and Colby got ready to argue, but then Matt just sort of shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said. “Sorry.”

Huh. Colby tilted his head, surprised; that was a lot easier than he’d thought it would be, actually. He wanted to tell Meg, only then he remembered he and Meg weren’t talking anymore. He put his sandwich down.

Neither one of them said anything for a minute. Colby could hear a pair of birds chattering away in the trees. The sun beat down on the back of his neck, insistent; probably he was going to get a burn. “I fucked it up,” he said finally. “The job with Doug. Is that what you want to hear? I actually wanted it this time, and I blew it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “That’s not what I want to hear at all, actually,” he said quietly. “That sucks.”

“Uh-huh.” Colby kicked at the bumper. “Sure it’s not.”

“I’m serious,” Matt said. “Believe it or not, asshole, I actually want you to succeed.”

Colby glanced at him sidelong, looking for the catch; still, he had to admit Matt sounded sincere. “Okay.”

Matt sighed. “Look,” he said, rattling the ice in his waxy paper cup of Coke, “I’m sorry about what happened at the house that day. No matter how pissed I was, I shouldn’t have said—”

“Dude, I don’t want to start...” Colby shook his head. “We were both idiots. It’s fine.”

“No, I know, but what I said about you and Dad—”

“Matt, really.”

“Fuck, man, can you just let me say this?” Matt looked irritated. “Jesus. Dad was sick, and I don’t blame him for what he did. For a long time I did, but not anymore.”

Colby swallowed the last of his sandwich, the bread sticking in his throat a little. “Oh no?”

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