Spill Over (10 page)

- - -

Dad and I have scrambled eggs for dinner. I’m slowly learning there are
only a few things he cooks well. H
e just doesn’t mind repetition. A
t all.

He cleans our plates and sits across from me before I have a chance to get up.
Dad sets a stack of mail
between us on the table.
“Antony, I know you don’t want to deal with this, but you’re
almost eighteen
, and there are some t
hings that have to be taken care of
.”

“I don’t want…” I start to get
up. Each letter is
another reminder I’ve lost something I didn’t want to lose.

“I know you don’t want to think about this yet, but
you can’t put it off forever
.”

“Put what off?
What on earth can’t wait?
”

“Your friends from the Today S
how really want you on for an interview because they want to be able to bring to the forefront the issues in Darfur your mom was going to cover.”
He runs a hand through his hair that’s still neatly trimmed.

“No.” No way I’m doing that. How the hell am I supposed to hold myself together while talking about Mom and why she di… But even the word gets caught in my brain, unwilling to be heard, even by me.

“There have b
een offers on the apartment and—
”

“And it’s not for sale,” I say, folding my arms.
I’m doing my best not to l
ook at the stack of envelopes—
each one of those papers is simply another reminder of what I’ve lost. How I’ll never get it back and how I’ll never be the same.

“That’s a
lot
of money every month.”
He clasps his hands together over the table.

“I have money. I’m not giving up the apartment.”

“Fair enough.”
He sighs.
“I’ve sorted out the junk mail. T
his is what’s left. The letter from the attorney is there.”

Each one of Dad’s words
tightens my resolve. Nothing needs me right this moment. I need to make sure I can actually deal with it before I
start
.

“I know what it says.”
Th
is is all pointless and is
simply forcing us to talk about the
one
thing I don’t want to talk about.

“What’s that?” Dad
’s eyebrows rise,
incredulous.

“Mom was meticulous
about her money and her will, D
ad
. I get everything.” I stand up, needing out. Needing air.

“But…”

“Later. I’ll do it later.” When everything stops feeling so fuzzy
,
and when I stop hurting so bad. Later.
Right now, I need the dark quiet of my miniature room.

Eight

I push my legs up the hill to the coffee shop, not an easy feat before my first shot of caffeine for the day. I glance up just before grabbing the handle to see Amber standing next to Kent
. He’s smiling and looking down. She’s smiling down and looking up and then he
leans down and kisses her cheek.

My brain starts to swirl around in the same ridiculous emotional mess that my chest and gut are in.
I want to puke.
Really, I should have known that was coming, and it shouldn’t hurt like it does.

“What can I get you?” The guy behind the counter asks.

“Chai Tea L
atte and a Cappuccino.” It
rolls
right
off my tongue.

“Yeah, no problem.” He picks up two cups. “Chai Tea…”

Chai Tea…
Mom’s drink.
My heart hammers
, making me dizzy
. “Just the Cappuccino.”

I ordered
for Mom.

It hits me hard. What a stupid thing to make me feel like this
—
like I’m drowning waiting for a coffee
.

“Have a s
eat.
I’ll bring it out in a sec.”

I stand by the window, afraid to sit, but not wanting to leave without my
drink
.
My sanity
is shaken
.
As soon as the cup hits my hand I’m out
the door.
No tip, n
o look, no thanks. Just out.

As I breathe in, the air burns
. Did I forget to breathe
before
? It’s like my chest is
too small, too tight
. It’s the little things that are going to get me in the end. The re-play of her coffin being lowered now finds a place in my head. My body starts shaking with anger. Like if there was something to hit or kick or
anything
…

I walk fast, forcing one leg out in front of the other, determined to keep moving until the out-of-control pictures running through my head go away.

“Antony! Wait
!” Amber
calls
.

I don’t know if this is good or bad, but it’s definitely distracting. My feet stop moving. Guess I’m waiting for her.
Maybe I’m
looking fo
r a different kind of torture—o
ne where her kissing another guy hurts me in a way it shouldn’t. But it’s still not enough to distract me from the real pain. One damn order of Mom’s coffee, and I’m about to lose it again.

“Hey, what’s up?” She smi
les wide as she catches up
.

“Bad day.” I shake my head and start walking again.
Her smile definitely isn’t helping, because her smile is for everyone. Or, at the very least, divided. Maybe now’s when I need to admit I like her more than I should. But shit, I barely know the girl really. I should focus more on that.

Her brow comes down and her face is laced with all Amber sweetness.

What am I supposed to say now? “How’s Kent?” I’m stupid.

“I still don’t know how I feel about him.
But I don’t want to talk about that, I’m worri
—
”

“Then
that should be your first clue,
”
I snap. I don’t mean for it sound angry, but it kind of does.

She doesn’t move, but the distance between us expands to miles.
“That, what?”

I stop and turn toward her
, pissed at the world and ready to state the obvious
.
“Don’t mess with him like that. Don’t let him kiss you unless
you really want him to. O
therwise you’re just
screwing
with his head.”
             

She steps back
, her small brows pulled together
.
“But I don’t mean to mess with his head.”

“Y
eah…
well
…”
I raise both arms in the air. “Then don’t let him
kiss you
.” I turn and continue down the hill to the harbor.

“I didn’t
mean
to!
”

Didn’t mean to. Right. I’ve used that one before, and I was lying. Just like she is now.
“That’s ridiculous! You either mean to and do it, or you don’t do it!”

She grabs my arm. “What’s with you
?
”

“I ordered a fucking coffee for my mom
,
and I have
no idea why!” I jerk my arm back
and this time she lets me go.

- - -

I’m slumped on the back of Dad’s boat.
Damn
coffee in hand, and the masochistic side of me almost wishes I was drinking the coffee Mom always drank.
The smell, the sweetness of it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.

DAVID: LI
KE IT OR NOT, I’M COMING FOR 2 DYS TO HANG W U. SEE
U IN A WEEK.

I nearly spit out my coffee.
Now what? I start typing.

SEE
U THEN.

It’s the only thing I can say without coming off as an asshole.
I have no idea how I feel about David coming to town.
He’s a good friend. M
aybe it’ll be nice to have him here. Maybe.
Mostly I just want… Actually, I have no idea what
the hell
I want
aside f
rom
my life to be wh
at it was before Mom sent me
here
.

My phone buzzes again
,
and I’m trying to think of something
clever
to say to David, but it’s not from David. It’s from Amber.

AMBER: SORRY. CAN I COME BY LATER?

Am I
a glutton for punishment here? I want her to come over.

ANYTIME

Now I sound desperate.

“Hey.” Her voice shoots me to sitting.

“Hey.” I hold up my phone. “Did you wait for my
text, or did you
think it would be funny to pop in?”

“I hoped you’d say I could come.”
Her blue eyes are open wide, throwing the full force of their power on me.

I gesture with my hand. “Come on up.”

She’s in her tiny running shorts. I’d be freezing in this
misty, rainy,
weather, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She sits across from me at the round table on the back deck of the boat.

“Wha’cha up to?” she asks.

“Was texting a crazy girl who was standing a few feet from me,” I tease.
I
t feels good to have her here—
the girl that’s making me slowly insane.

“I
didn’t want you to be mad
.”
Her brows come down and her mouth pulls into a small frown.

I rub my hand over my head and let out a breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“It’s okay.”

“You don’t have to keep cutting me slack cause of…”
Mom
.

“You’re right.
And
I should just make up my mind already, right?”
It looks like she’s trying hard to smile, but failing miserably.

“I’m not talking about this with you,” I say.
Not about Amber with boys. Ever. At all. She’s too cool for me to think about her with someone else. Wait. Else. Lik
e she should be with me. Yeah—
Amber probably needs someone a lot different than me. And she’s definitely not like any girl I’ve been with, so the whole attraction t
hing is still confusing the hell
out of me.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not at all qualified to give you any advice.”
I smirk.

We sit in silence.
Staring until her eyes find her lap.

Amber speaks first. “W
anna get together tomorrow and d
o schoolwork? I get bored doing it by myself.”

I almost,
almost
make some s
tupid comment about Kent, but
keep it in. “Sure, that’d be nice.” Maybe a little like torture, since I have no idea what to make of this girl aside from me feel
ing more than I should, but it’s distraction
.
Right now
any
distraction is a
good thing.

“Cool.” She stands up. “See you.”

Her long legs walk past me, and I swear my fingers twitch wanting to touch her. “Don’t wear shorts.”