Page 60 of The Kiss Principle

“Fernando!” Mom took a deep breath and straightened her hair. “Chuy called me last night. He wants to come home. And he’s ready to do rehab.”

The pivot in the conversation threw me off-balance. “What—Chuy called you?”

“He’s in a halfway house in Oakland.”

“He called you? Hold on, that piece of shit has a phone? I thought he was dead. Where the fuck has he been?”

“I don’t know, Fernando. He’s sick.”

“And now he wants to come home?”

“Lower your voice,” Mom said. “You’re scaring the baby.”

“The baby? That baby?” I pointed. “That’s his baby, Mom. His. And he left her here. Abandoned her. And I’ve been picking up his shit again. Like always. Now he wants to come home?”

“He’s your brother, Fernando. He wants to get better.”

“Fernando can’t go today,” Zé said. The sound of his voice startled me; I’d forgotten, for a moment, he was there. “He has an interview.”

Mom turned an icy look on him. Then her attention came back to me. “Well, I can’t do it. I’m a wreck. Look at me, I’m shaking. I need to take my medicine, and you know I’m not supposed to drive on my medicine.”

Your medicine, I thought.

“Is that what you want? Do you want me to drive up there? Because I will, Fernando. Even though you know Dr. Gould told me not to drive after I take my medicine. Fine, I’ll do it. Fine.”

And she would. She’d get in her car (that I paid for). And she’d pop her zanies (that I paid for). And she’d maybe make it to the other side of LA before she pulled into a strip mall and had a meltdown and called me, sobbing. And I’d go. I’d go pick her up. I’d get her home. And then I’d drive to Oakland, but only after I’d added an extra three hours to my day dealing with her bullshit.

“I am not paying for his fucking rehab again,” I said.

“Fernando,” Zé said.

Mom touched her eyes—perfectly dewy with tears. “I’ll get a job. I’ll pay for it.”

“He can live in this house,” I said, “as long as he’s clean, but I am not throwing my money down the fucking drain again.”

“I said I’d do it! Why are you always so awful to me?” Mom’s tears came faster, and she turned and headed down the hall. Cannon shot me a dirty look and went after her. A moment later, her door shut, but it didn’t stop the sound of her sobbing.

I tented my hands over my nose. I took a few deep breaths. Tried to, anyway.

“Hey,” Zé said.

When his hand touched my back, I flinched.

“Hey,” he said again more softly.

I shook my head. I’d only had a couple of migraines in my life, thank God, but I remembered the auras. This was like that. The way my vision seemed to shrink. The way the light seemed too bright. I headed for my room. I opened the door too hard, and it bounced back from the wall.

Clothes. I was pulling on a pair of jeans when Zé appeared in the doorway. He held Igz against his chest. She was crying softly. Had been crying, I realized. For how long? I tried to think back and couldn’t remember.

“I know it’s your day off,” I said, “but can you watch her?”

“Of course.”

“Did you have plans? You probably had plans.”

“Fernando, you can’t go to Oakland today. You’re meeting with the senior management team at Lou’s grow.”

“Apparently, because I have a jerkwad excuse for a brother, I’m not.” I buttoned the jeans and dug around for socks. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t have been able to pay for his rehab on what they were going to offer me anyway.”

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