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CIARA
I showed up in the room. I wasn’t exactly pleased with the guys’ outfit choice: a pair of jean shorts, a flowing peasant top, and sandals. I looked dressed for a barbecue and not to see Ricky off or, you know, mourned my brother’s death. I grabbed my dress and shoes and shoved them in my bag. I grabbed Ricky’s T-shirt off the floor. I held it to my nose. It smelled of him, sweet and woodsy. I folded it and placed it in my bag too. I took one look around at the room.
Five days ago, my world flipped upside down and the last twenty-four hours had done the same. If I did the math, I should be right side up, but no. I felt on edge, wobbling back and forth with no good place to fall. How long would I feel like this? I took a deep breath and let it out. I shook off the weird vibration in my body and went back downstairs to find the guys.
They sat around a circular table in the back of the restaurant. The table was covered in food. Pancakes, eggs, biscuits, my mouth watered. Keith spotted me first, but he didn’t alert the others to my presence. He narrowed his eyes and stared as if looking for an answer. The question on all their minds was what happened between Ricky and me. I sensed it as each one looked toward me when I approached. Ricky smirked, which would have surely given it away, but thankfully the guys’ eyes were on me.
I dropped my bag and flopped into the open seat, between Michael and Sean.
“You hungry, Little Tree?” Michael grabbed an empty plate and set it in front of me. He stabbed two pancakes off the platter in the center of the table and put them on my plate. Sean grabbed the syrup and drizzled it on the pancakes. Michael grabbed the bacon and dumped three pieces on my plate. I half expected them to cut it for me and feed me. They sat back down and waited. I picked up the fork and cut a small piece and ate it.
“Yum.” I dug in for more.
It seemed to please them, and they all went back to their food. Their constant focus on me made me uneasy. Like they were looking to me for guidance. That was Bishop’s job, not mine. I had enough trouble dealing with me, myself, and I.
“You flying back to Pendleton today?” Roman asked Ricky.
He sipped from a bottle of water. “Florida.” He didn’t elaborate.
“When will we see you again?”
“A couple of months.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ll let y’all know.”
“When’s your new job start?” Roman turned to me.
“They gave me a couple more weeks, but I think I want to get out there early.” I rubbed my nose. “Spend some time getting settled before works starts.”
They all nodded as if it was a great idea. Look at Little Tree making decisions, moving on. I almost rolled my eyes. Ricky caught me instead, hiding his grin with a biscuit. It was a good thing he was leaving because he was going to give it all away.
“We’ll have dinner before you leave,” Roman announced. “Where you want to go?”
“We don’t have to . . .”
“We should go to that Tex-Mex place downtown,” Keith chimed in.
“Marcos,” Michael added.
“Yeah, Bishop loved that place,” Sean added. The table froze. I looked up from my plate and at each one of them. Five men all trying hard not to look at each other. It wasn’t for my benefit. Their own grief landed smack dab in the middle of the table. The ugly truth for all to see. Their best friend was gone, never to join us again to celebrate the milestones.
Keith coughed and shoved his plate away. Ricky frowned and shook his head. Sean’s lip quivered. Michael stood up and walked away. I took Sean’s hand and squeezed. Giving him some sort of comfort. I wanted to give it to them all. But filling Bishop’s shoes was a task no one could take on. We all felt the emptiness of his death, but would we get bogged down in it? It remained to be seen. I was less worried about me and more worried about them. We needed stuff to look forward to.
“That sounds like fun.” I turned to Roman. “Won’t be getting any good Tex-Mex in Vegas.”
“I’m going to grab my stuff.” Ricky stood up, breaking the heaviness in the air. He walked around the table and squeezed my shoulder. I touched his hand as it slid off. The familiar spark made me smile. Sean held my other hand. He looked up at me. He felt it too and shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Not a thing, Little Tree.”
“Why is it that I’m the only one who hasn’t grown out of her nickname?” They all gave each other nicknames in middle school and high school. In the last five years, I can’t remember any of them calling each other anything but by their first name or during more jovial moments, by their last name.
“Probably because Sean can’t remember your real name.” Keith laughed.
“Ciara Nicole Irby.” Sean sat up straight. “See, I remember. All my brain cells aren’t dead.”
“Yet,” Roman said.
I glared at him.
