Brazing

  ~~

 

  Since we’d gotten back to school, I hadn’t seen her once. I’d talked to her on the phone and texted, but she was always busy, busier than before the holidays.

  By Thursday of the next week, I was fed up of her avoiding me, and I wanted to know why. I knew I’d told her too much. That’s the way I was—slow to warm up to someone and then just juggernauted my way through the rest. I’d exposed myself and now she was scared.

  “Should I go over there? Just surprise her?”

  “You gotta bring shit,” West answered, waving me off. His nose was buried in a book. Since we’d gotten back home, the boy was all about studying. I thought maybe all of Stockton’s hosing him down had straightened him out, like a dog getting his balls clipped. But with that latest statement, he’d apparently grown them back.

  “I have to bring shit?” West needed his own translator. I’d spent half of my life asking him what he meant.

  “Ugh,” he twirled around in his desk chair. “I didn’t mean like an actual pile. I meant bring her something if you’re going to stop by. Not flowers or candy. Gag. Bring her a cake. Hell, bring her a roasted chicken. God knows you owe her something decent to eat after exposing her to Cami’s cooking. I’ve still got the runs from that spaghetti.”

  Ignoring his antics, I focused on what made sense. Cake. “She’s like gluten intolerant or something. I can’t bring cake.”

  That really fouled West up. He scrunched his face all up like he was really perplexed about it. He growled like my presence just aggravated him.

  “Hold on.”

  West popped his laptop open and began typing. I swore to myself if he came up with something disgusting I would drive him back to Stockton that night.

  “There’s a gluten-free bakery on North Jackson Street. They close in forty minutes. Don’t get one shaped like a—just go for the cupcakes. Thank me later.”

  I changed my mind. I loved my brother. He was a genius. Throwing my shoes on as quickly as I could, I called out to him. “Text me the address.”

  “You are so damned needy. Hurry!”

  I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed out the door. Girls liked cake, right? But Tate wasn’t a regular girl. Two kisses and some declarations on my part hadn’t afforded me any details about her. I could tell when she was upset. I knew her angry blush from her desirous one. And I could tell you anything you wanted to know about her as a kid.

  Whether or not she liked cake was still a mystery.

  That was the reason I needed more time with her. I wanted to know every facet of Tate.

  If she’d ever let me see her.

  It was tearing me up not to hold her. It was like giving me a taste of the best ice cream I’d ever had and then telling me that I couldn’t have anymore for a year. I craved time with her.

  I just craved Tate.

  Now that I’d finally gotten her back, after forgetting how much I once wanted her, it was torturous to be away.

  At the bakery, I grabbed one of everything. The place smelled like it was built out of wedding cakes and frosting. I felt like such an ass when the girl behind the counter asked me what my girlfriend’s favorite flavor cake was. I had no clue. Hell, I didn’t even know if Tate considered herself my girlfriend.

  There was a chance I’d taken the trophy for dumbest Wright sibling away from West.

  That was a hard feat.

  Finally, with a dozen cupcakes in a box, I drove over to her dorm. I walked up two flights of stairs. I couldn’t deny the nervousness in my stomach as I got closer and closer to her room. The last time I was there, she’d asked me to come.

  Now, I couldn’t tell if she wanted me around at all.

  I knocked on her door and heard shuffling around inside. Whispering voices bantered back and forth. A few seconds later, the door inside her room closed.

  Carter opened the door, but only a small crack. “Hey Bridge.”

  It was hard to hide my disappointment.

  “Hey, Carter. Is Tate here?”

  Carter looked back into the room like she had no idea where Tate was.

  “She’s here, but she just got in the shower.”

  I smiled, trying hard not to vent my frustration out on her. It wasn’t her fault and I certainly didn’t want her telling Tate that I was rude. “That’s fine. I’ll wait out here.”

  She shut the door a little bit more so that there was only room for her face to fit through. “Well, she’s pretty tired. Maybe it would be best if you just called her tomorrow. She worked all day and then busted her butt studying.”

  I cleared my throat, giving myself a chance to work up a smile. “Sure. Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow. Oh…” I held up the box and she opened the door a little wider to take it. I tried to make the opportunity count and look into the room, but I didn’t see Tate. I don’t know why I expected to, but I did. “I didn’t know what kind she liked, so I bought one of each. Goodnight, Carter.”

  Her friend just stared at the box. “Goodnight, Bridger.”

  I hated the nickname Bridge, but somehow Carter calling me by my real name worried me even more.

  I drove around the city for a while. The quantity of building fascinated me. When I first came here for college, I was alone. West was still a senior in high school. Stockton said I’d have trouble sleeping, all the noise and none of the darkness. It was quiet until West got there with me, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  I’d always wanted to come to the city, sure that the grass was greener here. But the thing about the city was—the only grass was the kind that was planted by the landscapers.

  But going back home had renewed my love for the country life. As stupid as it sounded, I missed feeding the chickens and working on my own schedule. West was here, but I wanted to be home with my whole family. I wanted to be around when Will started dating and I wanted to be there when Stockton and Cami had kids.

  Working in an office floated further and further away on my list.

  I wasn’t sure it was ever on my list.

  Nearing midnight, I was still driving around when I got a call. It was Tate.

  I made my voice sound normal when really I was happier than happy to see her name pop up on the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey!” She attempted to sound excited, but it didn’t carry. Whatever was going on with her, I wished she would just tell me. I thought we had at least progressed to trusting each other.

  “I thought you were tired.”

  “Oh, I am. I just wanted to thank you for the cupcakes. I love them.”

  “I hope they’re good. West found the bakery. They make everything gluten-free. I know that makes you sick.”

  She exhaled heavily into the phone. “You didn’t go to too much trouble, did you?”

  Of course, I did. If she called me and requested I drive all the way back to Constance to get Preacher Wife’s peach cobbler, I’d do that too. I’d do just about anything she asked me to.

  “It was worth it. I was just trying to see you.”

  I couldn’t have sounded any more pathetic.

  “How about tomorrow? I’m off work and I don’t have a class until noon.”

  As stupid as it sounded, I didn’t answer right away. This whole scenario was vaguely familiar, like I was begging for time with her. I’d begged for time with Jesse too. Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I focused on Tate. I knew Tate. She wasn’t Jesse and I was doing her and me an injustice by constantly reverting back to that relationship.

  “Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “If you could, that would be great. This medicine for my stomach—I’m not supposed to drive. It makes me kind of loopy sometimes.”

  “Call me when you get up. Carter said you needed some rest. And if you don’t feel like going tomorrow, I understand. I’ve been worried about you.”

  Though I knew better, I swore I heard her cuss under her breath.

  “Thanks. Cou
ld you do me a favor?”

  “Anything for you.”

  “This is going to sound stupid, but could you pray for me?”

  “Of course, Tate. I already do.”

  “Goodnight, Bridger.” She hung up first. I hoped she wasn’t overextending herself by trying to see me the next day.

  To my surprise, a text came in early from Tate. She wanted to know if I’d pick her up in an hour.

  I’ll be there. I texted back and sat straight up in bed.

  Looking over at West, lying face down on his bed, his head under the pillow, I felt revenge coming on. You had to be constantly on watch for revenge opportunities when West was your brother. I knew the thing that frightened West the most—thunder. I devised my plan fast, needing to get a shower and be dressed soon to pick up Tate. I found the track I needed on my iPod and then cranked up the speakers near his bed all the way up.

  Come on Nature Sounds, do your thing.

  With the remote in my hand, I stood at the door of the bathroom, ready to bolt inside whenever he came to. I opened the door quietly and then pressed play. It started out innocently enough, just a few drops of rain and splashing could be heard. West stirred a little but didn’t move.

  A boom crashed through the rain on the soundtrack and faster than I thought imaginable, West sprang from his bed to the top of his desk. He started doing some knees up, head down dance that I was sure was a fertility dance in another country or another century. His arms were frozen stiff in the most awkward, painful position—even his toes were clenched.

  His girly scream could be heard over everything else.

  He probably had just made a mating call to every nearby cat and didn’t know it.

  I didn’t even have time to laugh, it all happened so fast. I stood there in shock.

  The next crash came before he could really wake up and then he changed from dancing to holding onto the broad, commercial plastic blinds like they were a life raft. Sounds of plastic bending and breaking split through the sounds of thunder. I was sure we would be paying for those at the end of the semester.

  So worth it.

  The mating dance began again soon after. I didn’t know my brother was so nimble—or so flexible. He looked like a marionette on crack. We should’ve invested in gymnastics with that one.

  Finally waking up, he realized what was going on and with one jerky movement, he kicked the iPod off the desk and across the room.

  And as soon as it stopped, he whipped his head toward me. His cheeks were puffing out in anxiety.

  Shit, I should’ve recorded it.

  No words were exchanged. My brother knew revenge when it was dished on him.

  Even still, when I saw his face morph from scared to pissed, I ran into the bathroom and shut and locked the door behind me.

  My revenge was two-fold.

  When West was scared, he peed. The boy had a bladder the size of a paintball.

  There would be no peeing if I were locked in the bathroom.

  He really should be nicer.

  I heard nothing. No threats. No promises of retribution. Finally, I gave up and showered as fast as I could. I didn’t hear anything through the door, but I still proceeded out quietly. Towel wrapped around my waist, I came out. West was dressed and wordlessly went into the bathroom, grabbed his toothbrush and began to brush his teeth after peeing and washing his hands. He sat on his bed and looked directly at me, just brushing like he had nothing else to do.

  “What?” I said, pulling on some pants and looking for a shirt.

  “Nothing. I hope you charged your phone.”

  My shoulders slumped at the mention of my phone. He wouldn’t. Yes, he would.

  “I charged it. Anyway, you don’t know the passcode.”

  He walked slowly into the bathroom, spit into the sink, and turned back to me. “Please. Like your birthday was so hard to figure out.”

  “You didn’t.”

  I checked everything—my outgoing calls—my messages—nothing.

  “Whatever.” I shucked it onto the bed and continued getting ready.

  West and I left at the same time.

  I’d gotten him so good.

  Tate wasn’t outside when I got to her building, so I parked and walked up to her room. The door was open, but I knocked on the door anyway.

  “Bridger?” Her voice was back to normal.

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “I’m a little slow today. I know I said we could go out, but would you mind terribly if we just hung out here?”

  If at all possible she looked worse than she had that faithful night where I’d spilled my guts to her. Her hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head. A hoodie that must’ve been three sizes too big swallowed her whole and nearly covered every stitch of her pajama pants featuring lemons and lollipops.

  My heart dropped at the sight of her like this, like the vibrancy had been funneled out of her ounce by ounce. I wanted to grab her up, bring her to the hospital, and demand every doctor in the place to find out what was wrong.

  “What can I do? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  She slid on slippers to her side of the room and flopped down on it. “I just need some rest, but I wanted to see you. If you’re hungry or whatever, you don’t have to stay. Don’t stop your life for me.”

  Wherever that last statement came from, I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Actually, I came prepared for Tate duty, whatever that may be. So, are you a chest to chest kind of girl or do you prefer spooning.” I smiled, hoping to prove that I was joking but not joking at the same time.

  “Well,” she shivered and pulled the hood over her head. “I’ve been told you’re into a lot more than spooning. In fact, Carter gasped when she found out how kinky my boy was. I mean that kind of talk so early in the morning? Bridger, you naughty boy.”

  My face must’ve given everything away.

  “I hope you don’t text those things to all the girls.”

  “What did he do?”

  She laughed a little but sobered herself up quickly, like it hurt to laugh. “West, huh? I knew they weren’t from you. They were funny, though I would’ve preferred your sweetness.”

  I walked over to her, desperate to give her any kind of comfort I could.

  “Let’s not spend our time talking about West anymore.”