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“Do you have a girlfriend?” It’s not what’s supposed to come out of my mouth. I watch as a grin lights his face. Then I watch him shut it down.
“No.”
By the time I turn away from the mirror to fully face him, his face is solemn. And he’s taken a small step back. “Do you?”
“No.” I sniff.
“A boyfriend?”
I wipe my eyes—mostly so I don’t have to look at his face as I say, “Not right now.”
“That’s surprising.”
“No it’s not.” I frown at him as my heartbeat quickens.
“It is.”
“You don’t know me. Maybe I’m a megabitch.”
“A megabitch?” He almost smiles. “Hmmm… I dunno. I’m not getting megabitch vibes.”
“Maybe you’re bad at vibes.”
“Oh, I’m not.” He does smile this time. “I’m good at vibes.”
I hold his gaze, somehow sure just from his eyes that this guy is, in fact, good at vibes. I arch my right eyebrow and try for a skeptical tone. “What makes you so sure?”
He holds his hands up. “Just trust me. I know people, and when I look at you, I don’t see megabitch.”
I want to ask what does he see, but I don’t dare. He looks at Pandy. “Were you washing him—or her?”
“Him,” I whisper. I swallow again and nod slowly. “Yes. It’s my sister’s.”
“Is he on a field trip?”
I nod, smiling slightly. My smile falters because I know Becca’s missing him. One of her caretakers tried to throw Pandy away this morning. Becca’s been sick with a GI bug she can’t shake—it’s put her in the hospital two times in the last six weeks—and this morning, she threw up on him.
The nurse, one of the newer ones Mom hired a few months back, doesn’t know my sister yet. She doesn’t care about my sister. When I told her she wasn’t allowed to get rid of Pandy, she called my mom, who told her she could do whatever she thought was best.
So I grabbed Pandy. I’ve gotta find some way to sanitize him so my mom won’t make a big fuss when I bring him back.
“My sister is…sick,” I offer in a voice that’s just above a whisper. “Pandy is dirty. So I need to clean him.”
I wait for the look of confusion on his face—or even worse, boredom. But he looks rapt, his eyes fixed on mine…so I keep going.
“One of her nurses tried to throw him out. But Bec’s had Pandy since she was born. And she...is really attached to him.”
Which matters a lot, because my sister is dying. I wipe more tears from my cheeks, and he holds out a hand—I guess for Pandy. He looks down at the bear: ragged from years of love and damp from my attempt to clean him.
“Have you thought about dry cleaning?”
“No,” I whisper. I don’t think my mom would even be willing to schedule a dry cleaning pickup. My mom doesn’t care, I guess. She doesn’t care about Bec anymore. I don’t understand why, but then I’ve never understood my mother. No, that’s not true, I correct myself. I do understand. Now that Bec is having more seizures, Mom is disconnecting one step at a time. And it’s grotesque and awful. She keeps saying Bec was never meant to be with us this long, as if it’s just…that time. As if it’s fine to let her go.
I wipe more tears from my eyes and shake my head. “I don’t think—” I manage.
“I could do it.” He takes Pandy from me. “After school. He’d be the first in line. After he’s cleaned, I can take him home and freeze him. I know it sounds weird, but freezing things can kill germs. My mom…she has cancer. She’s doing really well, but still takes maintenance chemo, and that means germs are bad dudes at our house.”
He nods as if to reassure me that he knows about such things.
“Do you know someone? Who has a dry cleaner? Because if he gets lost…” More tears well. I wipe them quickly. “Not trying to be a beggar and a chooser—”
“My dad,” he says quickly. “He’s got a shoe store and a dry cleaners. Right next door to each other. I help at the dry cleaners after school. I help them close.”
“Oh, which one is his?”
“It’s in Red Hook.” I can tell he’s trying to act casual, but he’s also watching me for a reaction.
I don’t give him one. “So, do you like…do it yourself?”
He nods. “I could do it myself, and then take him home and drop him in the deep freeze. My dad’s big on deli meat. We’ve got a pretty solid freezer.”
“Could you…would you mind bringing him back to school tomorrow?”
“Yeah, for sure.” He takes off his black hooded sweatshirt, revealing a ragged-looking Rolling Stones T-shirt. I watch as he wraps Pandy carefully in the hoodie.
“I’ll be careful. I can give him back to you tomorrow morning at the tennis courts?”
