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I hear some more rustling around and then, “I told you, and you didn’t listen.”
It’s followed by a hiss and loud meow, then feet pattering on the floor. A moment later Kitty heavy-breathes in my ear. “Do you mind if I call you back later? I need to make sure Chumble Buns isn’t about to knock every last thing off the kitchen counter in a fit of cat rage.”
“Sure. I’m taking my mother to see the home later. I could call after? I can even stop by.” This is probably a better conversation in person, anyway. “Can I ask what happened last night, though? Even if it’s the abridged version?”
“Yes to stopping by later. Just shoot me a message when you’re on your way. And Prince Francis was basically screaming his head off wanting to get into that room with the closed door. So I let him in, and then he yelled at the wall for a couple of hours. I didn’t know what to make of it and was kind of worried that there was a missing child somewhere because it looks like a kid’s room?” That last sentence is phrased as a question.
“Like it belongs to a young boy?”
“Yeah, but from like two decades ago.”
I blow out a breath. “I’ll explain later.”
“Okay. I gotta go!” And with that she ends the call.
The toast I was in the middle of making when I called Kitty no longer seems appealing. I slather it with butter, though, aware that this morning is team practice, and then team brunch, followed by my allergist appointment and then an early game. If I don’t put something in my stomach, it’ll be hard to focus on my job.
As it is, it’s going to be tough not to let my mind wander.
I don’t like talking about my younger brother.
It’s all tied up in the reason my family fell apart. And I often feel like all that loss contributed to my mom’s fragile mental state.
I stand at the counter, counting my breaths, willing the memories to stay on lockdown. Once my emotions are back under control, I get ready for work on autopilot and pick up Josh on the way to the arena.
“Hey, man, how’s your girlfriend? When’s she sleeping over again?” Josh needles me the second he’s in my car.
I wait until he’s buckled in before I pull away from the curb.
“What is this, middle school? Get off my jock.” I’m clearly moody as fuck this morning.
I can feel Josh’s frown without even looking his way.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?”
“No one.” I’m snippy and short. And on edge.
“Why are you lying? I’ve been your best friend since seventh grade. You can’t bullshit me.”
I sigh. “Kitty stayed at my mother’s place last night so she could keep an eye on Prince Francis in hopes that he would become a less destructive asshole, and she found Toby’s room.”
“Okay.” He waits for me to continue.
“It doesn’t sound like it’s changed at all since my parents split.” I grip the wheel and try not to grind my teeth. I don’t need an appointment to the dentist to round out this shit-tastic situation. I brake for the red light and glance at Josh.
His eyebrows always tell a story. One is arched up under his hair, the other is flat across the top of his left eye. “Do you mean it’s still decorated for an eight-year-old?”
“Yeah. Seems that way.”
“You’ve been there plenty of times. How didn’t you know this?”
“My mom always kept the door closed, and I never had the impulse to look,” I admit. And maybe I was burying my head in the sand about how much my mother continued to struggle with what happened.
It’s Josh’s turn to sigh. “Man, that’s . . . rough. Are you okay? Do you need to grab a beer or something after the game today? We could have drinks, lots of them. Get good and shitfaced if you want.” Josh was around for the aftermath of the split, but not what happened leading up to it. Still, he knows how hard it all was for me back then. And still seems to be, despite it being nearly twenty years ago.
“I can’t. I’m taking my mother to the home so she can check it out. And then I need to explain it to Kitty, since apparently Prince Francis was being a loud asshole last night, standing outside Toby’s door and making all kinds of noise. Anyway, I’ll take a rain check on the drinks. Let’s change the subject. I need to focus on something else.” I tap on the steering wheel, wishing I could erase the thoughts in my head and the history attached to them.
“Okay, I’ll drop it for now, but we need a guys’ night soon.”
I nod my agreement and switch conversation gears. “I’ve been analyzing Parker’s performance the last couple of games, and I think I’ve figured out a pattern in his plays.” I feel like I should have made these connections sooner, but with everything else that’s been happening, my focus has been split, which isn’t great at the beginning of the season when the first games can set the tone for the season.
