Page 29 of Come Break My Heart Again

“Okay, I—oh, crap. Plumber is walking over with his bad-news face on. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yep.” I hang up, then go back to staring into space.

After a few minutes, I haul myself up and head down the hallway. The door to my bedroom is shut. When I open it, the air is musty.

Cormac should have taken this room instead of letting it sit empty. It’s larger than his, and he’s almost as tall as I am now.

I walk over to the window and stare outside. My favorite part of the view—the boxwood hedge—was torn out and replaced by an ugly plastic fence.

My high school textbooks sit in a dusty stack on the desk, next to a pile of papers. My mom didn’t get rid of or move anything.

I crack the window, letting fresh air in. It’s at least sixty degrees out, cloudy but not chilly.

Rifling through a few drawers confirms nothing got cleared out of my room, so I head back to the kitchen to grab a couple of trash bags.

They’re not stored in the cabinet above the fridge anymore. I open the next cabinet over and stare at the row of colorful tinboxes lined up neatly. I pick up a yellow one and glance at the label.Himalayan Ginger and Lemongrass, it reads.

I’ve never seen my mom drink tea. Certainly notexpensivetea, which this appears to be based on the pastel shades and fancy lettering of the packaging. These tin boxes are the nicest items in this entire kitchen. The nicest things in this whole trailer, probably.

I shake my head and keep searching, finding the trash bags two cabinets later.

The next hour is spent sorting through clothes that no longer fit and papers I no longer need. I shower, then sprawl out on the couch to wait for my mom and Cormac to get home. All I can find on television are reruns, which I half watch while absorbing how strange it feels to be entirely alone.

At five forty-five, I hear a car outside. I straighten on the couch, then stand right as Cormac walks in with a backpack over one shoulder and a duffel slung over the other. He barely fits through the doorway, carrying the two bags. As soon as the door shuts behind him, he drops them unceremoniously on the kitchen’s linoleum floor.

“Hey!”

“Hey.” My greeting is noticeably more subdued, not because I’m unhappy to see my little brother. Because it’s setting in, slowly, how much time actually passed.

The trailer might not have changed, but Cormac sure has. I saw him about a month ago, during one of his regular visits. But it’s different to see him here when the last memories I have of him in this kitchen are of a gangly thirteen-year-old.

“Man, is it good to see you.”

I open my arms as he approaches, my throat thickening with emotion as he hugs me tight. Fuck, I missed so much. All of his high school years. Half of college. Teaching him how to drive. Telling him where to buy a fake. Buying him condoms. Allthat shit I had to figure out for myself, which I swore Cormac wouldn’t have to go through alone.

“Good to see you too,” I choke out as he claps me on the back. “You didn’t have to come all this way though.”

Classes are finished for the semester, but he still has a week left of finals.

“You kidding?” Cormac pulls back and grins. “Not every damn day your big brother escapes the slammer.”

I roll my eyes. “Not much of an escape when they let you out.”

“I know. But that sounds way less cool.”

“Glad I could entertain you.” I glance at the bags on the ground. “Not sure you brought enough back.”

“Figured a few small loads were better than one big one. Speaking of, what’s with the trash bags outside?”

“I went through my room. Don’t think I’ll be needing my Calc textbook anytime soon, and half the clothes don’t fit anymore. You should have moved in there, by the way.”

Cormac makes a face. “Why? It’s your room.”

“For now.”

“You mean, until Mom dies or until you take off in a couple of weeks?”

I clear my throat and sit back down on the couch, hating his blasé tone. I know he had to grow up fast, but he shouldn’t be so cavalier about any of this. “I’m not going anywhere.”

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