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I wasn’t going to call him until after the game, but I don’t want to wait that long. I need to check in with him and see how he’s doing. I’m in the locker room, but there’s still plenty of time before the game so I go outside and call him.
“Hey,” he answers. “Doesn’t your game start soon?”
“I’ve got time to talk. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m okay.”
I hear a siren in the background. It’s really loud.
“Where are you?” I ask. “Doesn’t sound like you’re in your room.”
“I’m just driving around.”
“Around where?”
“Why does it matter?” he asks, sounding annoyed.
He’s hiding something from me. When he answers my question with a question, it means he doesn’t want me knowing what he’s doing.
“Jake, just tell me what’s going on. I can hear the sirens. I’m guessing that means you’re not on campus.”
“I told you, I’m taking a drive. I didn’t feel like sitting in my room.”
“Where are you driving?”
“Just around.”
“Around where? Did you drive into the city?”
“No. Just stop asking, okay? You don’t need to know.”
That means he doesn’twantme to know. Where would he go that he wouldn’t want me knowing about?
I sigh. “You’re back in the neighborhood.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Jake, just tell me. Did you go back to the house?”
I could see him wanting to drive by it. He liked living here in Dallas, but he missed home. And that shitty house we grew up in is what he considers home. To me, it was a prison that I couldn’t wait to escape from, but Jake and I had different experiences there. When things got bad, I’d take Jake to a friend’s house or leave him with a neighbor. Then I’d go back to the house and stay with my mom, trying to protect her from Dad. Or sometimes he’d take off, leaving me to care for her after he beat her.
“What if I did?” Jake says. “What’s the big deal?”
“It’s not our house anymore. You can’t go back there.”
“I just drove by it. I didn’t go inside.”
“And? How’d it look?”
“The same,” he says, but his tone is off. I think he’s lying. I’m sure the place looks like shit. I doubt the new owner took care of it. I sold the house to some single guy in his thirties. That’s all Iknow about him. He’s probably a drug dealer, but I didn’t really care who bought it. I just wanted to get rid of it.
“Are you still there?” I ask. “In the neighborhood?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Because it’s not safe there. It’s not a place to be driving around.”
“It’s not even noon. People aren’t even awake yet. Dean, I have to go. We can talk later.”
