Page 78 of Never Say Never

“Yeah, I think I will. But… put your pride aside. Brandi’s selling her house, and then there’s nothing holding her in Birch Harbor, Trav. This might be your only chance. Imagine if you lose it? If you lose her?”

I can barely push the words out. “I already took a chance and look where it got me.”

“Good talk.”

It’s not until he leaves that his words come back and haunt me, again. I start cleaning the house, deep, bone-deep kind of clean. It’s hard since it’s already clean because I stopped drinking a few nights ago and I’ve needed something to do. Seems like cleaning’s it. Something to keep me occupied, keep my mother out of my house, and keep my mind off the woman I’m forced to live without.

It's not until I’m finally cleaning out the bedside drawers I find it. Half-crumpled, faded, worn in places from being touched and jammed up against the back of the drawer.

A photo. The woman in it is small, so skinny she has to be on drugs, and so familiar. She’s blonde, big-haired, and overly made up and very rock and roll.

Brandi’s mom.

The woman—girl because she’s young, probably not older than eighteen—is with two older people. Everyone’s wearing the kind of smiles that cost a lot of effort, and in the woman’s arms is a baby.

Brandi.

I’d bet my life on it.

My heart twists and flutters and I drop down and lean back against the bed, gasping for breath for the pain that bombards me.

It doesn’t take much to work it out. What probably happened. Her mom got messed up with the wrong crowd, knocked up, had the baby, did a shit ton of drugs, and probably had a huge fight with her parents and took off and tried to survive on the streets.

And every single scenario I can come up with, the nightmares and the ones that I pour glitter on aren’t pretty or happy or good.

The way Brandi is makes a horrible sense as I look at the photo. I know she grew up on the streets. I know she didn’t have anyone. Not until her grandparents found her and brought her here.

Shit.

Maybe I should return it to her.

In person.

23

BRANDI

“Well,I think, sweetie, this is a horrendous idea.”

Maya squeezes the hell out of a stuffed bear from the back of a closet. I look at the thing, both old and barely used. It’s easier than looking at her, seeing the censure in her face, the fight she wants to have.

“The bear?” I ask. “I didn’t even know I had it.”

I fold and put away the throw, then I close the lid, tape it, and label it with the fat Sharpie. Then I sit back on my haunches and rub my sweaty palms down my jeans. It’s cool in the house, but I’m covered in a thin layer of sweat, like something in me’s panicking.

Like?

It is.

I am.

I’m panicking at the thought of moving, of selling the last thing I have of my grandparents.

But it’s the only thing I can do.

Leave. Maybe it’ll be for a small amount of time, maybe for good. I just know I need to get the hell out of Dodge.

So yeah, I’m panicking at the thought of going.

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