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“That’s why you took the money from the canister?” I ask as he pulls a large box from one of the grocery sacks. “To buy a juicer?”
“Yeah.” His face falls as he absorbs my expression. “Jesus, Viv. Did you think I stole it from you?”
“Well, technically you did.” I fold my arms. Disappointment isn’t a foreign emotion in my life and I’ve been disappointed plenty by Walt. I know he’s sick and he can’t help it, but the effect is the same on me.
“I know.” He looks at his shoes. “I thought I’d get a job here. Stay close. Not with you. Not for long, anyway. Maybe you could float me a deposit for first month’s rent—”
“That money is earmarked for rehab. But you can stay with me for a little while. And if you’re ready, until you find a job.” I guard our nest egg like a mama eagle. The “egg” is the last of our wealth and if I have to spend every dime of it to keep him alive, I will. That doesn’t include apartment deposits. I want to believe he’s conquered his addiction. That fairy tales come true. That love wins. But it’s so damn hard after what we’ve been through.
“I’m ready.” He kisses my forehead. Then he starts unboxing the juicer. “Do you want one?”
“I, uh, I have a date.” Sort of.
“Let me guess. Nathaniel Owen.”
“Perceptive.”
“He looked at me like he wanted to pound me into a greasy spot on the sidewalk,” he says. “I have to admit, I like that he’s looking out for you.”
“I can look after myself.”
My brother, a handful of packing plastic in one hand, squeezes my arm with the other. “So can I, sis. I won’t stay long. I swear. Just long enough to make myself a respectable citizen.”
“That could take years,” I tease. It feels good to tease him. It’s a sign things aren’t in a downward spiral for once.
A bubble of hope rises to the surface. And, oh, it feels good. And weird. And terrifying. Who knew one feeling could be so many things?
“You’re moving to Clear Ridge? What about Atlanta?” I ask.
“I left a lot of old friends in Atlanta.” Junkies like him, he means. He pulls the shiny juicer from its home. “I stashed my clothes in the room you’re using as an office. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“That’s fine.” I let out a breath of relief. For right now he’s okay, talking about sleeping on the couch and preparing to juice himself a healthy drink. It’s hard to trust things are okay after they weren’t for so long, but I’m getting there.
“If you’re sure you’re okay without me…” I mutter, unable to let go all the way.
“You have cable?”
“Netflix.”
“Even better.” He whistles while he rinses off the many parts of the juicer. I consider his cheery state and weigh it against my own unexpected desire to see Nate. “I’m fine, Viv. Go.”
“If you’re sure,” I repeat.
“Get out of here.”
I decide to trust him, scraping my keys off the table and grabbing my purse.
