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Goddammit, Ocean. Holy fucking shit. Listen to yourself.
Furious at my weakness when it comes to her, I march past two trailers where junkies have moved in lately, barely checking to see if there’s anyone sitting on the porch.
Stop thinking about her. Even if you weren’t planning to spirit your mom away, what would she wanna do with trailer trash like you?
Feeling slightly calmer, I slow down and walk past Margie and Ed Fairchild’s home, toward Floyd’s.
Nothing was ever gonna happen between Kayla and me, anyway. No reason to sweat it. She said it herself. It meant nothing.
So I should suck it up already and fucking let go. No reason to wonder what it’d be like being together with Kayla. Being her boyfriend. Sleeping in the same bed with her, taking care of her, sitting with her to eat at the kitchen table. Making out with her every night.
Kissing her soft lips, holding her in my arms every day.
Fuck.
Enough.
The brown, run-down trailer is owned by Floyd Garth, a friendly sixty-something guy who’s been around since I can remember. He’s smoking, seated in a white plastic chair on his trailer’s porch.
Frigging awesome. Everyone’s outdoors today. Despite the chilly wind, it’s dry and sunshine sometimes pokes through the clouds, luring the inhabitants of Tin Town outdoors.
I put my head down and pretend I didn’t notice him.
He isn’t impressed. “Blue. How is it going?”
“Fine.”
“Haven’t seen your brother around.”
“That’s because he’s not around.”
He scowls at me.
Floyd isn’t annoying or frightening. He isn’t particularly friendly, either. My memories of him when I lived here are a mixed bag. I remember him giving me some ibuprofen for Raine one time my baby bro had been really sick.
I also remember him slamming his door to my face and calling me a filthy beggar a few times when I dared knock on it, asking for food.
Yeah. Fucking mixed bag, for sure. Never sure how to act around him.
So I open my step to leave him behind.
“A doctor came and had a look at your mom the other day,” he calls after me. “Your old man was worried.”
I stop, a shiver rattling my spine. “What did you say?”
“A doctor. All dressed up in a dark suit like a crow.”
I turn around to face Floyd, my spine locked, a thousand questions vying for voice and dying in my throat.
“Doc came here?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you hear what I said? I saw him. Quiet fellow. Serious.”
Never seen a doctor doing house calls around here. Not that I’m not grateful. I sure am, but something’s bothering me. I can’t put my finger on it, until it hits me like a punch and fear washes down my back in an icy wave.
If my old man, who never gave a damn about my mom, brought a doctor, it only means one thing in my mind.
Mom.<
