I looked at him and smiled. He smiled back, but it seemed weak, watered down. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Perhaps terror. Or disgust. Everything inside me felt like a garbage can tipped over, strewn on the forest floor. Kiss me again, I begged him silently. Please.
A twig snapped. I looked over and saw a shadow in Philip’s driveway. It moved toward us quickly. Steven.
‘Oh,’ I whispered.
‘Who’s that?’ Philip asked.
‘My brother.’
I took a step toward him. Steven stood with his hands on his hips. ‘What do you want?’ I called to him, my voice trembling.
‘Come here,’ Steven said, his voice a threat.
I glanced back at Philip. He stood in front of the bird graves, as if guarding them. The wind smelled like bug spray. The creek rushed angrily behind us.
‘Get over here, Summer,’ Steven repeated, impatient.
‘I’m fine.’ The words dissolved in the air space right outside my mouth. ‘Nothing’s wrong. We’re just hanging out.’
‘Come. Here.’
Philip cocked his head, like a dog that heard a strange noise. ‘Maybe you should go.’
Steven’s shoulders were squared, his legs spread apart. He reminded me of the two-story cowboy statue we saw in front of a restaurant called Round ‘Em Up Corral. It was somewhere on the highway, on the way in, and featured an all-you-can-eat buffet for $5.95.
I took a few steps more toward him. ‘Just stop it,’ I hissed. ‘You’re embarrassing me.’
‘Do you know who you’re talking to?’ Steven answered, not quietly at all.
‘Do you?’ I asked. Steven blinked. ‘You don’t! You don’t know anything!’
‘Summer.’ He wrapped his hand around my wrist, guiding me backward.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because…’ He let out a small whine. It was a noise like a little kid would make, frustrated when he didn’t get his way. ‘You know why.’
I tried to shake him off, but he wrapped his arms around my waist and covered my mouth. I made a muffled cry, vaguely afraid. My brother’s body felt solid and warm, and for a second, it was like we were embracing.
Steven continued to hold me to him, his breath hot on my neck. Tears sprang to my eyes. And then he released me, just like that. I spun across Philip’s yard. Ten feet away, Steven looked smaller. He held his arms out, staring at them as if he couldn’t believe they were his. And Philip was gone. I couldn’t feel Philip’s lips on mine anymore. When I reached for the memory, I saw my grandmother’s dead face instead. The world smelled like driveway tar, thick and black, a smell I’d always hated.
‘Summer.’ Steven listed toward Philip’s mailbox, a cheap steel rectangle on a tattered post. ‘It’s just that…’
‘Go away,’ I said through my teeth.
He took another step, but I turned around and wheeled back toward Stella’s house. ‘Just don’t,’ I screamed over my shoulder, my voice piercing through the woods.
10
It was raining at the cemetery, big fat drops plopping on the gazebo roof, on the crumbling headstones, on the threadbare mini-American flags around the carious gravesites. We huddled under an umbrella near the open plot, waiting for everyone to arrive from the funeral home.
Steven sniffed behind me. Last night, when I slipped back in the house, I found everyone in the kitchen. ‘Are you okay?’ my father asked. ‘We couldn’t find you.’ He was crying. In front of everyone, like he always did. Huge tears ran down his face. I hated him for crying. I hated that Samantha was standing there, an entertained little smile on her face, taking it all in. She’d seen where I’d gone and told Steven, I figured. She’d ruined everything just because she could.
And I hated that I’d said something to Philip. It seemed as if the whole world had heard. I was certain my father would next turn to me and say, So you’re sure I’m going to pull another snow globe incident again, huh? Some daughter you are.
I hated all of them last night. After I kicked my shoes off, I sneered at my blubbering father. ‘Steven’s going to join the Marines,’ I spat, tasting acid in my mouth. ‘So you’d better do something soon if you want to stop him.’
And then I went upstairs. Steven slid in well after I’d shut myself in my room, gotten into bed, and pulled up the covers. I heard his every step on the creaky, warped wood. He paused at my room, as if he wanted to say something, but then he didn’t. Seconds later, the door to his room scraped shut.
One of the biddies that was at the wake floated over to us now, a crooked umbrella over her head. ‘It was a lovely service,’ she croaked to my father, taking his hand.
‘Yes. Absolutely,’ my father answered. ‘Beautiful.’
Her whole body trembled. ‘She’s in God’s hands now.’ Something indescribable passed over my father’s face. ‘I’m sure.’