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“Well . . . yeah.” Those were hard rules in Khai’s universe.
“That’s brother love. We just don’t say it because we’re tough and shit, but yeah, I love you, too.” Quan punched him on the shoulder. “And why the fuck are you wearing a sweater in late July?”
Khai rubbed his shoulder. “I told you. I have the flu.”
“You don’t have the flu. This is how your heart breaks. It’s like you hurt too much for your brain to process, and then your body shuts down, too. You were a lot like this after Andy. Even down to the one sock.”
Khai looked at his feet and was surprised to see he only wore one sock. “Maybe it came off in my sleep.” He dug through the blanket, but it wasn’t there.
“Or you forgot it. After Andy, you were so out of it, we were all afraid you’d accidentally kill yourself by walking in front of a bus or forgetting to eat.”
Khai shook his head and scratched at his beard. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
Quan laughed. “No, it doesn’t. That’s why we were all so worried, and you seemed off ever since then. These past couple months are the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time, to be honest.”
Khai gritted his teeth. He hadn’t been happy. He’d been in an Esme high. There was a difference, though at the moment, his mind wasn’t clear enough to figure out what it was. Frustrated, he pulled off his one sock and tossed it on the floor. There, now he was symmetrical. But a lone sock lay on the floor, completely out of place.
Quan considered Khai for several long seconds before saying, “Are you ready for the death anniversary next weekend? Talking about him might help. You never do.”
Khai fixed his attention on the sock on the floor. “I did. At Sara’s wedding.”
Quan released a heavy exhalation. “Yeah, I heard about that. I should have been there with you.”
“It’s not your fault when I hurt people,” Khai said.
“It’s not yours, either.”
Khai shook his head at his brother’s insensible logic and focused on the sock again. He should pick it up, find its mate, and stick them in the laundry together. It was distinctly infuriating imagining his socks journeying through the house separately. They were designed to be together.
Unlike Khai. He was meant to be a lone sock. Lone socks had a place in this world, too. Not everyone had two feet.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Quan asked.
Khai lifted a shoulder. He couldn’t remember. “It’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
“Well, I am. You’re going to eat with me.” Quan got up and padded into the kitchen. The fridge opened, plates clattered, silverware clanked, and the microwave hummed and beeped. Soon, they were eating together on the couch as Quan flipped through TV channels until he found a program where ticker symbols scrolled along the bottom.
Khai hadn’t brushed his teeth, showered, or shaved, and he was fairly certain he was a psychopath, but sitting there with Quan, things seemed better. Eating with his brother and watching TV while sick felt familiar, and fuzzy memories flickered in his mind.
Maybe he really had been in this same position before, but as for the rest of it, the brokenhearted stuff, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Early the next week, when Angelika went to take the GED exam, Esme went, too. She didn’t need a GED and had no one to impress, and a high school diploma wasn’t going to help with her work. But the cost hadn’t been horrible, and she’d done all this studying. She told herself she did it to set an example for Jade.
But deep inside, she knew she did it for herself, too.
Unconsciously, she’d been studying for it this entire time.
Usually, she couldn’t do things because the opportunity wasn’t there, and the worry persisted that maybe she couldn’t because she just wasn’t good enough. Maybe all rich people were rich because they deserved it. Maybe she was poor because she, too, deserved it. But now the opportunity was right here, and she wanted to see.
What happened when you gave someone an opportunity?
Later that week, she still hadn’t figured out how to solve her visa problem, and the determined fire in her heart had banked. When she got her transcript in her email inbox, she opened it with resignation.
The contents put goose bumps on her head. She checked the name three times to make sure they hadn’t made a mistake and sent it to the wrong person, but no, the name was unmistakably Esmeralda Tran.