Tailspin (Better Than You) (3 page)

              “I have to do some catch up work after school today. I’ll catch a ride with Cora,” Emily reminds me before leaving the car. She glances at Joshua, then back at me and wiggles her eyebrows, like I’m one of her friends and can understand everything she says with just one look. As I’m driving away, I see her watching after the car, this look on her face that I wouldn’t be able to forget even if I tried. It’s hard to remember that I’m not the only person who has lost everything they’ve ever known.

              Now that Emily is gone, the silence in the car is ear piercing. I don’t know where to start with Joshua, or what to say, or even if he cares to hear what I have to say. If only there was a way to know what he’s thinking.

              “If you don’t wanna go to school today, just let me know.” When he doesn’t respond, I continue. “We can stay home and hang out, maybe go to the beach or something. We can try out that paddleboard I got for Christmas.”

              He’d been begging me to take him for months, but I kept putting it off, always telling him I was too busy. With school. With football. With Heather. Maybe if I’d been a better brother, he wouldn’t be shutting me out now. By the time we get to his school, he still hasn’t said a word. The car slides to a stop and his door opens and shuts quietly. Joshua’s backpack is almost bigger than him and I watch as he disappears into the elementary building. The whole time he’s walking, he watches the ground, almost as if the world around him has ceased to exist. To me, it feels as if it’s way too big, way too much. I envy him and the chance he gets to disappear.

              Instead of driving away like I know I should, I sit in the car for almost an hour, part of me hoping that Joshua will come running out of the building so that I can keep putting off the things I need to do. Like sell Mom’s shop. And open dad’s bar. These things weigh on me so heavily that most days I have to remind myself to breathe. If I didn’t need the money, I would just say fuck it all. But Joshua and Emily and that huge ass house we have are expensive. If only I had known before, maybe I could have been more thankful to my parents for what they gave us. How had I been so completely blind?

              The drive to Mom’s store takes less than twenty minutes and as I walk through downtown and come to a stop in front of the very empty looking boutique, I begin to wonder if I can really do this after all. This was Mom’s. It was part of who she was, something she had built and created and nurtured. Emily will kill me when she finds out, but it’s just too much. There are so many things I never bothered to learn, so many things that Emily said she would figure out later, after her cheerleading practice or after hanging out with her friends.

It’s too late now.

“Mr. Hawkins?” a voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn to find a woman with brown hair and mousy features. She’s young, but not as young as I am. Maybe she’s older but the way she holds herself, small and timid, reminds me of a child.

“It’s Nathan,” I respond. Mr. Hawkins was my dad, and he’s gone. I’m not him. I could never be him.

The woman shakes her head, her thin hair falling out of its ponytail and tickling her face. “Right. I’m so sorry. I’m Lauren, Mr. Jose’s assistant. I have the paperwork.” At that, she pulls out the folder from under her arm and begins shuffling through the contents.

“Let’s take care of it inside.” As I’m unlocking the door, I hear her take a deep breath, like she’s nervous. But what is she nervous about? Dealing with this? Dealing with
me?
I lead her to the small back office and motion for her to lay the papers on the wooden desk. Her hands tremble as she sets them out.

“I just need you to sign here,” she points to a line, “and here, and here.” As she’s handing over the pen, I have this moment where I know that I can turn back. It’s not too late. I can keep this part of Mom, try to keep this alive. Tears sting my eyes but I can’t let them fall. There’s so much to be done and crying like a pussy won’t get them done. The pen glides across the paper so smoothly I hardly know it’s being done. It’s much too easy to sign away this last part of her.

“Thank you, Mr.- um, Nathan. I’ll keep you updated on the progress of the sale.” Lauren takes the pen from my hand and begins to pack up, never once looking me in the eyes.

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to be a part of it.”

This stops her. She looks up at me, searches my face for sincerity. Seeing it, she drops her eyes and pushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, about, um, for your loss. Mrs. Hawkins was a wonderful lady. She really was.” Lauren clears her throat and then looks up at me. “We’re all set here then.”

“Thank you, Lauren.”

She nods brusquely and then scurries out of the shop. I’m left standing there, surrounded by Mom and her papers and her tendency to be disheveled and disorganized. Instead of rifling through her things like I have the urge to do, I walk out of the office, through the shop, and out of the front door. I lock it behind me and I never look back, not once. With my hands fisted by my side and my heart pumping so hard it feels like it might explode, I walk away from a decision I might regret one day.

~~

“It had to be done, Emily. It’s too much responsibility and we need the money. Mom would want this for us. She would understand.”

Even as I say the words, I don’t feel them. I look into the mirror again and try out different facial expressions, all the while feeling ridiculous.
Is this something that Dad would do?
I wonder if there will ever be a time when I stop questioning myself. I wonder if Mom and Dad questioned themselves as much as I have without them.

As it turns out, practicing my speech in the mirror does nothing to prepare me for the wrath of Emily Hawkins. She screams, she cries, she throws her phone and shatters it against the refrigerator when it misses my head. Joshua sits in a stool at the kitchen bar and watches the whole scene with wide eyes, but never says a word. Not that I expected him to. When Emily is done yelling, breathing heavily and nostrils flared, she sinks to the ground on her knees, much like I did when the news of our parents came. Slowly, like approaching a wild animal, I crouch next to her and take her heaving body into my arms. She lets me hold her, she lets me whisper
Its going to be okay,
over and over again, and when she’s done crying she gets up and walks away without a word. Joshua follows soon after, and the days that follow are nothing but silence from them and confusion from me. The tiny bit of control I felt I was gaining is gone and I’m back at square one.

5             

June 23, 2006

The last of the glasses have been wiped down and the liquor restocked. We’re ready to open for the day, to flip the sign from
surfing
to
serving
. Dad thought he was clever. I can admit now that he was, after spending so much time here. People love that sign and the different specials we have to offer. Even though it’s been six weeks since I started coming here, it hasn’t gotten any easier to be him; to sit at his desk and do his job. To take his place as boss when there are others more qualified for this job than I am. I won’t give it up, though, especially after what happened with Emily when I gave up Mom’s store, and as it wrong as it is, it’s given me the escape I need.

When I’m here at the bar, the expectations are different; not as heavy. The lives and happiness of my employees don’t depend on me. Not like Joshua and Emily, who still haven’t spoken to me. It feels like I’m living in a house full of ghosts, disturbances of Mom and Dad and Joshua and Emily everywhere I look. But no one’s there, not really. In some ways it’s worse, knowing that they refuse to talk to me, the one family member they have left. In other ways, it’s a relief. I don’t know what I’d say anyways.

“Hey Kait, would you flip the sign, please?” I look up from wiping the counter to find Kait, who smiles and says, “Sure,” before walking over to the door. She had just started working here before Dad died, and maybe has had the easiest transition of all of the employees. The others miss him; his surefire decisions and witty banter, but I can’t try to be him anymore than I already am. It hurts too much.

The first few hours of the morning are always the slowest. It’s the time before any of the summer breakers are up and before the alcoholics roll out of bed. The girls get to try out new drinks and listen to their own music and I get to catch up on paperwork. Around one is when the crowd rolls in and then it’s non-stop until closing time. I’m sitting at Dad’s desk, reading over something or other when I hear the bell for the door go off. Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s just past noon; a little earlier than usual for a customer, but nothing too unexpected. I go back to reading, my eyes blurring over the small print and the long words. But then I hear my name called, the voice thin but urgent, and it sets my heart racing.

As I’m walking around the desk and heading for the door, my first thought is for Emily and Joshua; that they’re okay, that whoever has just walked into the bar isn’t here to bring bad news. My eyes sweep over the entire bar, looking for a uniform and tearing up with relief when I don’t see one. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but only at first. Once my head is screwed back on, once I’ve told myself that Emily and Joshua are safe, I see why I’ve been called out. And my blood runs cold. My heart stops. I blink, once, twice, three times, hoping that the man pointing a gun straight at Kait’s head is a figment of my overworked imagination.

“Who’s he?” the guys asks, shaking the gun for emphasis.

Kait whimpers, her hands shaking by her head. “That’s the owner. That’s Nathan.”

The guy looks confused, his eyes jumping from me to Kait, back to me again. Swallowing down the urge to run away and never look back, I step forward, raise my hands in surrender just like Kait. “Hey man, whatever you need, we can work this out. Why don’t you point that gun over here?”

Gunman- gun
boy
would seem more appropriate- looks at Kait one last time and then swings the gun towards me. Kait jumps, a sob of relief escaping her mouth before she clamps both hands over it. I send her what I hope is a reassuring smile and then avert my eyes back to the barrel of the .357 pointed at my face. His hand is shaking so bad that the sound of clinking metal echoes throughout the bar. The way he’s holding it, one hand extended out and the other holding his forearm tightly, makes it obvious that he’s never shot, much less held a gun before. I assess him as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, take in his dark, low slung jeans, ratty hoody and thin, pale face.
He’s on something
.

“Where’s the old guy?” he says, voice just as unsure as his hands. “The other owner.”

My heart stutters for a second, tripping up my words on the way out of my mouth. I take a deep breath and start again. “Let’s talk, okay? But first, let them go,” I say, gesturing to Kait and the other girls sitting against the counter. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt, right?”

He glances at them from the corner of his eye. “Fine. Just you and me, then.”

“Okay. That’s good. We can work something out.” I nod at the girls and they creep towards the front door, only looking back for a split second before taking off. “There. This’ll be much easier.”

“I want you to sit.” Gunboy motions towards a chair and I oblige, walking backwards to be sure to keep my eyes on him. Something about him is off balance. “Keep your hands on the table, okay? Don’t call the cops or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

I nod my head slowly. “No cops. Got it.”

He removes his hand from his forearm and shakes it out, the barrel of the revolver lowering slightly in the process. It’s an older gun, probably his dad’s. “Where’s the old guy? I want him here.”

I swallow once, twice, try to get the cotton ball out of my mouth. “You mean my dad.”

“Sure. Whatever. Where is he?”

“He’s, uh, he’s dead. He died. A couple months back.”

In a rush of movement, gunboy is inches away from my face, the cold metal of the gun pushed against my temple. “You’re lying!” he screams, spit hitting my cheek.

I can’t breathe. He’s too close, crowding my space and pushing my buttons and all I see is hazy red.
Deep breaths.
I close my eyes, not even caring that I’m losing sight of him. Blocking out everything, I pick up the sound of the waves crashing not too far from here and let it set a calm rhythm inside of me. Water crashes, breathe in, water pulls, breathe out. “I’m not lying,” I finally whisper. He must sense my sincerity because when I open my eyes, he’s backed up, the gun hanging at his side.

“How’d he die?” he asks with a cold gleam in his eye.

Say it.
“Car accident.”

Silence, and then, “Karma.”

My eyes snap up and meet his deadly gaze straight on. “What’d you say?”

Gunboy laughs, the sound raising the hairs on the back of my neck. “I came here today,” he yells, “to kill that bastard, and then I find out that he’s already dead. From a car accident. KARMA!”

There is nothing that I want more in this moment than to strangle this stupid son of a bitch, to watch the life bleed from his beady eyes, which is why I don’t understand what I’m doing still sitting here, much less understand the word that comes out of my mouth next. “Why?”

“Why?” he replies. “Why what? Why did I want to kill him? Why is it karma? Be more specific.”

“All of it,” I croak out. “Why.”

“Okay,
Nathan
, it’s story time.” He pulls a chair in front of me and straddles it backwards, all the while keeping the gun firmly in his right hand. The shakes are gone. He’s got the upper hand and he knows it. “Once upon a time, there was this girl named Lilah. She was a beautiful girl, happy and carefree and everything I ever needed.” He pauses, takes a deep breath with eyes closed. When he opens them again, there’s a fire in them. “One night, we were walking home from a concert, and this car drives right off of the road and onto the sidewalk. She was walking on that side, you see, because she always liked to hold my left hand. Insisted on it, actually. And so the car hits her straight on. Literally scoops her up and plunges her into a light pole.”