Page 26 of Getting It Twisted

“So now you’rehelpinghim? Daniel, what the fuck?”

“I told you. I’m not doing it out of the goodness of my fucking heart, I’m just helping him with the house so he’ll get the hell out of here.”

“And taking him to dinner!”

I open my mouth to argue, but this day has been too goddamn exhausting already, so instead I say, “Look, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Depends. Is it a favor for you or a favor for him?”

“The cops have the key to his house. Could you talk to Wayne and get it for me?”

“Get it forhim, you mean.” George lets out a deep, long-suffering sigh. “Don’t you remember how fucking crushed you were last time he got out of dodge?”

“This won’t be like last time.”

“So you say.”

“I want him gone, same as you.”

“Is that right? Is that really why you’re doing this?”

“Why else would I be doing it?”

George looks at me for a long while, pulls his lips between his teeth, and nods. “Fine. I’ll have it done tomorrow.”

Thank God. Although I don’t share the same aversion to my uncle as Nathan does, I’d rather avoid him if I can help it. “Thanks. You can leave it on the counter; I’ll bring it to him.”

“Why run around doing his errands? He can come get it himself.”

April pipes up from the couch. “He can come to the party on Friday.”

“He can come,” George says, voice tight, “but not to the party.”

“Don’t be rude, honey. He’s Daniel’s friend; of course he can come to the party.”

“Really,” I say, “it’s not needed. And he’s not my friend.”

“Yeah, honey,” George tells April, “you don’t know what he’s like. You don’t want him at our party.”

“If Daniel likes him, I’m sure he’s not that bad.”

“I don’t . . .likehim.”

George rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you tell yourself that.”

When he left town, Nathan abandoned me as well as his phone number. I should’ve asked him for his new one, but then again, he used to be notorious for never answering texts and calls. And since I’ve already scoured the web for his social media a hundred times in the past few years and come up empty, my only option is to drive out to his house.

In the car, I think of the way he gazed after me in that parking lot after our dinner. Now that my anger has had a few days to cool off, guilt takes its place. But why should I feel sorry for him? He’s made it quite clear that the only thing he wants with me is to fuck me. Those sad puppy eyes were simply a result of him watching his chances for a hookup slip away.

And yet, days later, I cannot stop thinking about him, alone in that house full of ghosts.

For old times’ sake, I allow myself to ponder. Is he eating all right? How is he doing—truly? How is he coping with his mother’s death? The nature of their relationship aside, her passing has to affect him on some plane.

I park on the patch of grass behind his red-and-black Ford Mustang. He’s home, then. Not at Moe’s or anywhere else he can go looking for trouble. The thought of him giving himselfaway to sleazy old men twice his age makes me want to punch something.

I settle for slamming the car door shut and pushing my hands into my pockets as I walk up the overgrown path toward the house. Now that I see it in daylight, the yard is a total dump, littered with a random assortment of furniture, junk, broken glass, and what I suppose is Theresa’s run-down wreck of a car. Nathan and I will have to clear it all up before we consider having a realtor over.

The closer I get to the house, the creeping unease from last time closes in as well. I round the corner and climb up to the window. Before I heave myself inside, I call Nathan’s name, but he doesn’t reply. In fact, the whole house is eerily quiet, with no sign of any living creature.

---