Page 32 of Catcher's Lock
It was torture to watch you, but it would be worse to leave you behind.
“You’re high,” I say instead. It’s obvious in his languid limbs and the smoky slur of his voice.
“Vicodin.” He doesn’t even try to dissemble. “Only way I was gonna make it through the shift.”
“How many did you take?” I ask.
“Not enough to kill me.” He slumps further into the seat, and his eyes drift closed. “So, what did you think?”
How am I supposed to answerthat? I opt for the most brutal truth I can muster. “I hated it.”You were incredible.
“Because of what I did, or because of how it made you feel?”
Jesus. Has he always been able to see through me this clearly?
Yes. Only he used to be better at hiding it.
Or more wary of what it meant.
“All of it,” I reply, because what’s the point of lying if he’s going to call me out anyway. He sighs, but I catch the smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Think there’s room in the show for me this year?” he asks. “At home, I mean. I’m in a lot better shape than the last time I was in Mendo. Or I will be in a couple weeks when the ribs heal.”
Regardless of what I think about what kind ofshapehe’s in, is he seriously imagining he can waltz back onto the lot likehe didn’t burn every bridge behind him when he disappeared? After he’d slapped down every olive branch, every appeal, until I was the only one foolish enough to keep trying?
I know Shilo and Hals would bend over backward to give him another chance if he wanted it, but the audacity to assume they wouldn’t make him work for it? That he could have it all back by simply showing up after nearly two years of radio silence? Even if they hadn’t already booked a pole act, I’m damn sure they wouldn’t risk the tour by counting on Gem now, no matter how happy and relieved they’ll be to see him.
For some reason, I don’t tell him about Ellis.
Mistaking my silence—or maybe reading it perfectly—he scrubs a hand over his head. “Yeah. Maybe I can try next year.”
“Not at Big Top, you won’t.”
“They’re that pissed, huh? Or…is it your call?”
Fucking Christ. He still thinks his parents would choose me.
When all I ever wanted was forhimto choose me.
When half the reason I stayed in Mendo all this time was to try to fill the void he left, and it still wasn’t enough.
“There isn’t going to be a Big Top next year,” I tell him. “It’s done. Shilo and Hals already have a buyer for the tent.”
“Shit.” Some of his stoned lethargy falls away as he sits up straight to stare at me. “Seriously?”
“I wouldn’t bullshit you about something like that.”Not when I could hurt you with it instead.
“I never thought—”
“You’re gone. Milla’s leaving. Can’t have a family circus without a family.”
“You’re there.”
“You never get it, do you?It’s not the same.”
And we all got tired of pretending.
By the time I get him back to the condo, he can barely walk,and when I try to deposit him on the couch, he clings to me and shakes his head.
