Chapter Sixteen
Andy
The drumbeat of a heavy fist on the door roused me from a heavy, almost narcotic sleep. I eased myself upright, rubbing the sleep from my crusty eyes as I lowered my feet to the floor. My whole body was stiff and sore. Too much lying down over the last twenty-four hours, probably. After Josie left the night before, I’d found a bottle of whiskey to drown my sorrows, then thrown our uneaten stone-cold celebration/consolation tacos in the trash and gone to bed.
When I woke up, it was almost noon, and the bright midday sun felt like a laser beam through my pounding skull.
I felt like utter crap, with gritty, red eyes and a thick, sore feeling in my throat. I’d tossed back a fistful of Advil and parked it on the couch with a huge glass of water and stayed there, reading and mindlessly channel surfing until it was almost dinner time, when I’d texted my mother to let her know that I would not be attending mandatory Sunday dinner at their house. There was no way I could deal with my siblings harping on me and wanting to know why I was so fucking depressed.
“Coming,” I muttered, rising to my feet and brushing the cracker crumbs off my bare chest and boxer shorts.
I looked through the peephole first. I wasn’t surprised to see my brother Nicky standing on the other side—George wasn’t bossy enough to show up without calling first, while Ian was too polite to practically break somebody’s door down with his fists. Nicky, however, had no qualms doing either.
“You look like shit,” Nicky said when I swung the door open.
“You look good, too,” I replied wearily, and motioned him inside, pushing the door closed behind him. “Did Mom send you?”
“No, I sent myself,” my big brother said as he stepped past me and toward the living room. He sat down in a chair and gave me an expectant look. “What? Go get dressed.” His eyes narrowed as he studied my mussed hair and the crumbs that I was pretty sure speckled my beard. “Shower first, though.”
I scowled at him. “Is this optional? I feel like shit and the last place I want to be is at a family dinner.”
Nicky reached over to the coffee table and picked up one of my abandoned paperbacks, flipping it over to scan the back. “No. If you don’t come with me, they’ll just come here and then George will find your diary or something and read it out loud. You know how he is.”
The adjectives nosey and intrusive came to mind.“It’s a journal and it’s private,” I muttered, but turned and headed for the stairs anyway.
Nicky rarely bluffed.
Thirty minutes later, Nicky marched me through the kitchen door at my parents’ house. The meal was over, but Mom stood waiting in the kitchen to thrust a plate into my hands as soon as I came close.
“Eat,” she said fiercely.
I stood frozen for a moment, clutching the plate of reheated leftovers and suddenly blinking tears away at the sight of my mom’s wild curls and the way her bossy maternal presence settled over me like a beloved blanket. Behind me, I heard Nick’s footsteps fade as he disappeared into the dining room, leaving me alone with my tiny, fierce mother.
Mom just peered up at me, eyes narrowed with annoyance. “You think you get to skip family dinner just because you had a fight with your girlfriend?”
“Mom, it was a little more than a—"
She held up a hand. “Don’t care. Go sit down. George heard it all from Annie, and now he’s got your other brothers all worried, too.”
I blinked and clutched the plate a little tighter. “What about Frankie?”
Mom rolled her eyes. “What about Frankie? She’s got a teething baby, I told her to go home with her husband and let us jump up your ass about it instead.”
I heaved a sigh and looked up toward the ceiling. “God save me from all of you.”
My brothers sat clustered around one end of the long dining room table, the dishes long gone and the table cleared except for a few drinks—water for Ian, who didn’t drink alcohol, wine for George, and a long-necked beer for Nicky.
I sank into a chair next to Nicky and like magic, an identical beer appeared in front of me, the cap already wrenched free. I nodded at Nicky and took a short sip, then dug into my food.
Nobody said anything.
“What?” I said through a mouthful of salad. “You guys dragged me here. Just say it.”
“I want to call you a dumbass for…you know, thinking of yourself as a dumbass,” Ian said.
I set my fork down. “How is this any of your business?” I looked at Nicky, then George. “Seriously, what were you planning on, a dramatic rescue to save my relationship? Like this is a romantic comedy or something?”
Ian opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly with a sheepish nod. “Something like that.”