Page 9 of Back for Seconds

“So, what’s your story?” he asked. We pulled to a stop at the first light into Evergreen. A light that always seemed to be red.

“You know part of it, I’m guessing. If you attend any St. Agnes senior citizen mixers or have anything to do with the winter bocci league.”

“I heard about your parents—”

“Well, that was front-page news.”

“—but I wanna know about you.”

Suddenly, my throat felt thick. “Drive isn’t long enough.” I slid my eyes toward him, then back out to the road again. “But uh, basically he left.”

Why did it still hurt to say that? I kept my eyes wide, fixed on the red and white awning over Taqueria Morales, bucking wildly in the wind. If I could just stay like this, the tears wouldn’t fall.

Joey wordlessly reached for my hands in my lap. “You’re ok,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re ok, June.”

And with those words, my eyelids fell shut. A single fat tear slipped from my eye, dragging slowly through the makeup, over my cheek.

He kept his hand there, large and warm, tucking his fingers into my palm. He gave me a squeeze. His square thumb swept over my knuckles, the calluses on his palms gently tickling the top of my hand, sending a tiny pulse of warmth up through the center of my chest and into the base of my throat.

I wanted to say something—something witty, something funny. But I was blank. So, I let him hold my hand.

“You’re at the bottom of the island, right?”

I nodded. “Three-one-nine Venus Avenue.”

His eyes flashed through the dark, suddenly cutting to mine. He gave my hand another squeeze. “Three-one-nine Venus Avenue.”

We stayed like that for the rest of the drive. Every time I thought the tears would stop, another one would well in my eyes. One at a time, they crashed from my eyes into the front of my jacket, the top of Joey’s hand. Some ran slowly through my makeup, over the crest of my cheek, and then down directly into my mouth. A strange little message from the universe. You’re so sad! Here, taste how sad you are!

Sometimes, this grief made me feel insane. Like my brain had been taken out of my head, bubble wrapped, shot directly into the gorgeous, heaving universe—only to be sucked back down and shoved back into my too-small skull. This grief disoriented me, far more than Brian’s actual betrayal. It took over my body, like a parasite. Feeding off all my innate happiness, joy, and gratitude. My grief parasite was unendingly hungry; it consumed every bit of me worth having, until I was only bones.

It made me mean and jealous and bitter. It made me cry in a stranger’s car.

When we turned down my street, Joey pulled his hand away and set it back on the wheel, maneuvering deftly into my driveway. He put the car in park, sniffed loudly, then turned to stare at me.

Joey full on was a lot. He was big—tall, broad, warm. He smelled spicy and clean; manly. Everything about him was testosterone-laced. His confidence palpable.

I’d never been around someone like him before. Ever. My brothers, for all their performances of masculinity, were short and soft, just like me. We all had the same adorable Teddy Grahams face, inherited from our dad.

I cleared my throat. “Thanks for the ride. And I am really sorry about—”

“I’m gonna give you my number,” he interrupted me.

I blinked. “Oh?”

“Yup, I am. But”—he raised both of his eyebrows at me—“you have to promise you won’t post about it and make fun of me.”

I laughed. “I’m done, I swear. I retire.”

He laughed too, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet from which he pulled a business card. “Call me when you’re ready to see how good vegan Italian food is.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling, taking the card from between his fingers. “Then I guess you’ll never hear from me again.”

I slipped from his car, up the white wooden steps that led to my front door, and disappeared inside before I could even think about giving him one last look over my shoulder.

Chapter 3 Joey

I watched June walk up the front steps to the baby-blue beach house with the dead wreath on the door.