Dayna shrugged.
“Are they screwing or something?” Dodge pressed.
Dayna sighed and wiped her fingers carefully on her napkin. She’d been picking apart her burger, layer by layer. This was something she’d always done: deconstruct her food, put it back together in a way that pleased her. With burgers it was lettuce and tomato on the bottom, then ketchup, then burger, then bun. “They’re friends, Dodge,” she said, and he felt a flicker of irritation. She was speaking to him in her grown-up voice, a voice that had always grated on him. “Why do you care, anyway?”
“Mom doesn’t have friends,” he said, even though he knew it was kind of mean.
Dayna set down her napkin—hard, in her fist, so that the water cups jumped. “What is up with you?”
Dodge stared at her. “What’s up with me?”
“Why do you have to give Mom such a hard time? That doctor isn’t cheap. She’s trying.” Dayna shook her head. “Ricky had to leave, like, his whole family to come here—”
“Please don’t bring Ricky into this.”
“I’m just saying, we should feel lucky.”
“Lucky?” Dodge barked a laugh. “Since when did you become such a guru?”
“Since when did you become such a brat?” Dayna fired back.
Dodge suddenly felt lost. He didn’t know where the feeling came from, and he struggled to get out from underneath it. “Mom’s clueless. That’s all I’m saying.” He stabbed at his mac ’n’ cheese to avoid meeting Dayna’s eyes. “Besides, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. . . .”
Now it was Dayna’s turn to stare. “You’re unbelievable.” She spoke in a low voice, and somehow that was worse than if she’d been screaming. “All this time you’ve been telling me to keep trying, keep believing. And then I actually make progress—”
“And what about what I’ve been doing?” Dodge knew he was being a brat, but he couldn’t help it. Dayna had been on his side—she was the only one on his side—and now, suddenly, she wasn’t.
“You mean the game?” Dayna shook her head. “Look, Dodge. I’ve been thinking. I don’t want you to play anymore.”
“You what?” Dodge exploded; several people at a neighboring table turned to stare.
“Keep your voice down.” Dayna was looking at him the way she used to when he was a little kid and didn’t understand the rules of a game she wanted to play: disappointed, a little impatient. “After what happened to Bill Kelly . . . it’s not worth it. It’s not right.”
Dodge took a sip of his water and found he could barely work it down his throat. “You wanted me to play,” he said. “You asked me to.”
“I changed my mind,” she said.
“Well, that’s not how the game works,” he said. His voice was rising again. He couldn’t help it. “Or did you forget?”
Her mouth got thin: a straight pink scar in the face. “Listen to me, Dodge. This is for you—for your own good.”
“I played for you.” Dodge no longer cared about being overheard. The anger, the sense of loss, ate away the rest of the world, made him careless. Who did he have? He had no friends. He’d never stayed in a place long enough to make them or trust them. With Heather he’d thought he’d gotten close; with Natalie, too. He’d been wrong; and now even Dayna was turning on him. “Did you forget that, too? This is all for you. So that things can go back.”
He hadn’t intended to say the last part—hadn’t even thought the words until they were out of his mouth. For a second there was silence. Dayna was staring at him, openmouthed, and the words sat between them like something detonated: everything had been blown wide open.
“Dodge,” she said. He was horrified to see that she looked like she felt sorry for him. “Things can never go back. You know that, right? That’s not how it works. Nothing you do will change what happened.”
Dodge pushed his plate away. He stood up from the table. “I’m going home,” he said. He couldn’t even think. Dayna’s words were making a storm inside his head. Things can never go back.
What the hell had he been playing for, all this time?
“Come on, Dodge,” Dayna said. “Sit down.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her: those patient eyes, the thin, dissatisfied set of her mouth. Like he was a little kid. A dumb kid. “Tell mom I said good-bye.”
“We’re miles from home,” Dayna said.
“I could use the walk,” Dodge said. He shoved a cigarette in his mouth, even though he didn’t feel like smoking, and hoped it wouldn’t rain.
heather