Page 17 of The Delivery

I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. I feel betrayed by my co-workers and staff. My loss isn’t something I want to share with everyone.

“I wanted to offer support. I want to help you.”

Can I please run into his arms and do the Dirty Dancing lift? Can we kiss under the streetlight in the most rapturous, epic, unforgettable kiss? Until the world crumbles around us and we rise to the heavens in an eternal embrace. (Maybe with rocket boosters and fireworks and philharmonic accompaniment?) Can I forget I’m a grown-up and just finally suck his face?

I stand there, staring at him with my chest heaving and my stomach bottoming out. This feels like a moment. The big one. But, it’s a moment I can’t have. One I absolutely must deny myself of.

“That is an incredibly generous offer, Mr. Cruz, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be appropriate. Neither is this—showing up at my place. I’m going to pretend this didn’t happen so you won’t get in trouble.” And with that I walk right past him.

I don’t look back to see his face.

CHAPTER 9

My brother, Alexei, picks me up at the airport. He wanders toward the baggage claim, looking forlorn and tucking his longish shock of black hair behind his ears. I see him before he sees me, and I wave, but he’s looking at the floor. Alexei has this strange way of walking where he over-crosses his feet, like he’s walking on an invisible tightrope or a catwalk. With his longish raven colored hair, his pale skin and his feminine walk—the whole effect is quite emo. My little brother has grown up.

I’m staring, but he still won’t look up. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand with a vigor that should be reserved for scratching elbows or knees not the delicate orbs through which we see. But this is Alexei with his utter inability to truly respect anything. He’s sloppy and lazy and a blind mole to consequences. But he is a lover and not a fighter and knows how to love hard. My heart softens toward him, and when he looks up and finally sees me, he smiles with sea foam green eyes that look just like mine.

Speeding up on his tightrope by swinging his arms, he bounds over to me, and a wide grin spreads across his face, a dimple sneaking out on each side. My baby brother, the sweetest and weirdest and most frustrating human I know.

“Hey, Lana,” he says, hugging me. He’s wearing a waffle knit sweater that’s way too big, a parka with the zipper open and sneakers with loose laces.

“Hey, Lexi, thanks for coming to get me!”

“Yeah, well, Mom made me. I’ve got a jacket for you in the car. It’s cold and starting to snow. Dad made stew to welcome you home. I tried it. It was pretty gross. We should probably stop to get something.”

“You look great!” I tell him.

“You look all LA. Since when do you wear a blazer?”

“How’s school?”

“It’s shit, but I’m making the best of it.”

The automatic doors open into curbside transportation, and the air is

frigid. It’s the Midwest in February. I didn’t come prepared, and right away my teeth chatter. Lexi stops rolling the suitcase and offers me his parka. “It’s okay. I’m wearing two sweaters.”

“You’re wracking up brother points. Watch out, pretty soon I’ll invite you out to visit.”

Lexi smiles and puts his arm around me. God, I’d almost forgotten how much I adore my brother. I used to think he was gay and too shy to come out, but unfortunately, its much more complicated than that. Lexi is awkward, and there is something unsettling about him. He laughs at things no one else laughs at and can’t ever seem to make friends. I’d chock it up to cultural differences, but my paternal grandparents emigrated from Russia and my mother’s family came over when she was sixteen. Our roots have been growing here long enough to be culturally assimilated. In school growing up, his weirdo status never seemed to bother him. It bothered me more. I was always hysterically protective of him. He got made fun of, and worse, he was shunned. Lex, shrugged it all off while I was constantly throwing down in the school yard and ready to fight.

He’s brought his junker—a rust eaten 91’ Ford escort— the most boring of cars.

“Do you want to drive through downtown just since it’s been a while?”

“That sounds good, Lex. The snow is beautiful. Hey, are you seeing anyone at school?”

He removes one hand from the steering wheel and scratches his mop, pushing strands back behind his big ears.

“Same question back at you, Dr. Ruth. Nice lead in. You know Mom and Dad will want to hear this one.”

“Truce. And the answer is only when I’m drunk and I know I won’t fall for him.”

I look out at the dark street and draw a circle in the wet fog on the window. I press the button to roll the window down all the way. When it goes back up again the moisture is gone and I can see the street better. I wish I were seeing someone. I wish I were seeing you-know-who.

“Should we stop for coffee or something to eat? Mom and Dad will be asleep by the time we get home.”

“Do you drink coffee at midnight?”

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