ERIKA
Back at the house,Vinny jogged inside ahead of me.I bent to pick up a paper bag sitting on the porch.
“Hey, wait a second.Can we talk?”I called out to Vinny when he brushed past me the moment I unlocked the door.
He kicked off his cleats, spraying orange mud across the foyer, then crossed his arms like he was bracing for impact.
I wondered if I was now supposed to clean the floor.Housekeeping ranked just above laundry folding on my list of personal hells.I peeked into the paper bag, finding a foil casserole tray, still warm.Only in the South did a meal train launch the moment someone died.Still, something in me loosened.It felt nice to be cared for.
I looked at Vinny, his arms locked tight, expecting me to yell.
Instead, I said quietly, “I’m sorry your parents are gone…and that my dad is gone too.”
Vinny’s jaw tightened.“Are you sorry?Are you even sad?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.“I am.I just haven’t figured out how to feel it yet.Everything still feels sideways.”
“You never visited.You never even called when they were alive.”His voice cracked, then hardened.“You’re lying.You’re just here to get their money.”
I shook my head.“There isn’t any money.Nothing like that.Just the house—and that’s yours.”I paused, choosing my words carefully.“I did call.Not enough.I should have tried harder.That part’s on me.”
He stared at the floor, silent now.
“I didn’t stay away because of you,” I added.“I stayed away because things were complicated with Dad, and I didn’t know how to fix them.That doesn’t make it okay.”
“I’m not going to the funeral,” he said, suddenly.
I let out a slow breath.I didn’t want to go either.But wanting had stopped mattering the moment we became the only two left.“You don’t have to decide that tonight,” I said.“We’ll talk about it.”
“I don’t want to live with you.I don’t like you.”He dropped his bag like punctuation.
“That’s fair,” I said gently.“You don’t know me yet.”
“It’s you who doesn’t know me,” he shot back.“Mom said you never wanted anything to do with me.And then you yelled at Coach and made me look bad.Parents don’t do that.”
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” I said immediately.“I’m sorry about that.I’m not your parent.”I hesitated.“But I do know your coach.We grew up together.Sometimes adults bring old stuff into places it doesn’t belong.”
He scoffed.“You don’t want to be here.So go home.”
“I don’t know where home is right now, but I’m not leaving you.”
“I can stay with Mrs.Marty or Mrs.Darlene,” he argued, arms crossed, chin lifted.
“They care about you.But they have families and lives already.”I met his eyes.“Right now, you’ve got me.That doesn’t have to mean forever.But it’s what we’ve got.”
“You’re not my mom.”
“I know.I’m not trying to be.If we don’t stay together,” I said carefully, “there are people who will decide where you go.That might mean foster care.It could mean leaving Vision.”
His head snapped up.“So now you’re threatening to get rid of me?”
“No,” I said immediately, closing the distance between us.“I’m trying to explain the rules, not scare you.”
“Yes, you are.”His voice cracked, anger giving way to something raw.“You don’t want me.Just say it.Put me up for adoption or whatever.Fine.”
Before I could stop him, he bolted for the stairs.His bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the walls below.
I stood there, frozen, the house ringing with everything I should’ve said better.
