Page 7 of Promise Me Nothing
I only heard part of it, thinking instead about my own situation. Melanie and Lissy had left the week before for New Mexico, leaving me behind to finish out the lease, which was almost up anyway. School was going to be out for the summer soon and my hostess hours continued to go down thanks to Paul being a disgusting pig.
I could have stuck around in Phoenix and tried to keep things going. Tried to find a new place to live, new roommates, a new job that replaced babysitting Lissy as well as the discounted rent and my declining hours at the restaurant.
I could have done it.
But sometimes, when you’ve been treading water for so long, it feels easier to slip beneath the surface, even just for a minute, to give yourself a break.
So it felt normal to wonder if that’s what I’d done when I agreed to abandon my life in Arizona and spend the summer with my new brother at some beach house in California. If I’d given up. Given in. Accepted that I couldn’t make it on my own. That I needed someone else to keep me afloat. Someone else to help me find that easier path.
“You awake?”
My head whips to the side, and I see the bus driver hovering over me, a confused look on his face.
“Sorry,” I say, shuffling awkwardly out of my seat and into the aisle. I swing my backpack onto my shoulders. “I was just…” I trail off, shake my head. “Thanks.”
He nods at me, steps in between two seats to let me pass, and I walk through the bus and down the steps, out on to the platform. I grab my duffle bag, the only one still sitting on the ground next to the bus, and pull the strap across my shoulder, holding it tightly against my stomach.
Today, everything I thought I knew about life… is going to change.
Time to go meet my new brother.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize something’s wrong.
I look at my watch, a cheap thing I got when I was eleven. Joshua won it at the arcade near my school the weekend before it shut down. Replaced by a pet shop full of animals desperate for somewhere to belong. Being one of only a few small things I have that remind me of my brother, I haven’t ever had the heart to get rid of it.
I’ve been waiting over two hours for Lucas to get here and pick me up, the hunger in my stomach starting to pinch and pull. Taking another sip from my water, I dig my phone out of my backpack to checkagainthat my data is working, that there aren’t any missed emails or phone calls.
Nothing.
It’s strange that he isn’t here, especially since I called him yesterday to make sure that everything was still good-to-go. That he had my bus’ arrival time and knew what I’d be wearing. A comfortable pair of jeans and a loose red Diamondbacks t-shirt that I got when Sienna took me to a game for my birthday last year.
I try calling Lucas’ number, but it goes straight to voicemail again, and I let out a sigh.
There are plenty of people who would probably call me stupid. Running off to California to live with someone I don’t know at all, regardless of how simple he made everything sound on the phone. Having some of the same blood running in our veins doesn’t mean I’ll be safe.
There’s a point of pride I have, though, in still trying to trust people, even though it doesn’t come naturally. It would be so easy to give in to the idea that everyone I meet has an ulterior motive. My entire life so far has done nothing but shove that idea in my face. Over and over again.
But that doesn’t mean I have to believe it’s true. I might not be able to be as bubbly and positive as my mother usually was, always able to see the bright side in every situation, but I can still try to believe that people are worth trusting. And I’m hopeful my time with Lucas will help prove that.
Letting out a sigh, I wander over to the information booth and grab a map of the bus system, resigning myself to the idea that I’m probably going to have to find my own way to Lucas’ house. He might not be here to get me, but I literally don’t have anywhere else to go, so I’m thankful I was at least smart enough to get his address for mail forwarding so I’m not just stuck here, completely helpless.
I close my eyes and look up, letting the sun wash over me, the air a bit more humid than I’m used to. Arizona has that dry, desert heat, devoid of any kind of moisture. You never feel like you’re sweating because it evaporates faster than you notice the dampness on your skin. The humidity of the beach cities in LA is going to be an adjustment.
I take a seat against the building on the patterned brick that stretches across the passenger pickup area, making sure to get in a sliver of shade provided by a handful of palms clustered together, and take a look at the bus routes, trying to figure out a way to get to Lucas’ house.
Once I’ve sorted out a route for myself, I feel a little better, the bit of tightness in my chest that had been forming finally starting to loosen. Maybe by the time I get on the subway, then transfer between a few buses, he’ll be able to answer his phone if I call again.
I’m digging around in my wallet to double check the amount of cash I have, cringing as I remember that I spent a few dollars on snacks for the trip, when I hear my name.
I turn my head sharply, surprised, my eyes darting to the curb with the faintest glimmer of hope. Towards a truck parked at the curb and a blond guy rounding the back and looking in my direction.
He lifts a hand to give me a small wave as he steps up the curb and walks towards me. He’s all casual beach attire in a pair of trunks and sandals, his shaggy hair making him look exactly like the beach boy I’d pictured him to be.
And then a smile stretches across his face.
A face that looks so much like my dad’s that my mouth actually drops open.
I saw a photo of Lucas when we Facebook friend-ed each other, and I knew the instant I saw that picture that he truly was related to my dad.
