Page 19 of Under My Skin
I tilt my head slightly. I had no idea he went to the house to sort out his childhood bedroom already. He’s told me he had to help his parents a few times, but he’s never mentioned anything personal.
Lucy looks over at him, equally surprised. Maybe the two of them haven’t talked much about this either. “You did?”
Simon tries to shrug it off, but there’s a weight in his shoulders now. “Yeah. You know, memories and all that. Plus, if I ever have kids or whatever.” He doesn’t look at either of us. Instead, he picks up his bowl and goes back to eating.
Lucy looks at me wide-eyed, but all I can do is offer a clueless look in response because I had no idea Simon even wanted kids. He always made settling down sound like a death sentence.
Shifting her attention back to her brother, she gives him a light pat. “I think that’s really sweet.”
Simon gently brushes her off. “Yeah. Well, you should be able to do the same thing. If they sold the house and had to pick and choose what they kept for you, it wouldn’t be fair.”
“Maybe they think they still have time,” I offer. I felt good about saying it until they both turn their attention to me. Simon’s eyes narrow, but Lucy just waits for me to explain further. Clearing my throat, I say, “The market usually slows this time of year. There’s a good chance they won’t sell until after the holidays. Maybe they wanted to tell Lucy in person the same way they told you?”
I hold my breath, unsure if what I’ve said makes sense or if I look like an asshole for defending the liars, but Simon’s expression softens slightly and Lucy nods.
“That’s true,” she says quietly. “Usually, homes don’t sell as quickly over the holidays. There’s a chance it could sell between now and mid-November, but once it’s Thanksgiving, I doubt people will want to uproot their families.”
Simon stares at his sister, clearly unsure why she’d agree with me on this.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Lucy goes on to say. “I’m still pissed, but if they really want to tell me in person, I guess they’ll have their chance sooner than expected.”
She pushes her food around with her fork, and I wish I wasn’t paying close enough attention to see how weighed down she seems by all of this.
Chapter Eleven
LUCY
“What’s your plan?”Everett’s voice is calm and quiet from the recliner, and I wonder what he must think of all of this. He seems like he doesn’t want to get involved, which I guess I can understand. But at the same time, I can’t help wondering what he’d do if he were in my situation. I doubt his mom would ever keep him in the dark about something for so long, and his dad . . . Well, his dad was a saint from what I remember. I only ever really knew him in passing, but our parents seemed to get along well enough. His dad always had this fun-loving energy about him. He was affectionate with his family in a way that a lot of men hold back from. I remember him hugging Everett—like arealhug, not a one-armed squeeze—when Everett was well into high school.
The memory dissipates as I refocus on my brother’s best friend. I wonder how he’s doing. I had been living in Colorado for a few years when his dad passed, and I didn’t know his father well enough to fly home for the funeral. Simon went, of course. I’m not positive, but I’m sure my parents did, too.
“I don’t really have a plan,” I admit. “I guess I’ll just go there in the morning and see what they’re doing—see if they’ll open up once I’m standing in front of them.”
Everett nods, but it’s Simon who says, “I’m on call in the morning. Public Works never sleeps, but let me know if you want some company, and I’ll try to help.”
Looking at my brother, I give him a weak smile. “Thanks.” I don’t like the idea of facing them alone. Having them keep this secret makes a simple visit more like two against one. But if I show up with Simon at my side, they’ll immediately know that I know. Going alone lets me give them one last chance to come clean without outside pressure.
Part of me is tempted to ask Simon what other details they’ve told him, but I think it would only make me feel worse. If he knows where they plan on living after they sell, if one of them will move out early, and if either of them are already seeing someone new, I’ll feel worse. Whether it’s from anger or sadness, the last thing I need is to get upset on my brother’s couch with Everett watching.
Another uneasy moment of silence passes between us as we finish our meals, and I wonder what they’d be doing if I weren’t here. Would they be laughing? Watching a movie? Playing video games? Am I the Debbie Downer who’s crashing the party with my sad mommy and daddy issues?
“Do you guys want to put on a movie?” I ask in a desperate attempt to make this night feel a little more normal.
Simon gets to his feet to throw away his takeout container. “Sure. What movie?”
Everett follows his lead but stops in front of me where my half-eaten Sesame Chicken sits on the coffee table. “Done?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet mine as he reaches for the small plastic container.
I nod. “Thanks.”
As he walks to the kitchen he says to Simon, “You pick something.” He glances back at me before adding, “And make it light.”
Great. Do I really look that fragile? Like I can’t handle watching anything that might make me feel?
On second thought, something light might be good.
Simon peeks over the open fridge door to look at me. “You know what I’m going to suggest.”
I can’t see Everett from here, but the groan that comes from him makes me laugh.
