Chapter Fourteen
Cris
I’m packing my suitcase and feeling frazzled thanks to my late start this morning. The past week has been gloriously distracting, but each time I resurface from touching Benji or remembering touching Benji, I’m greeted by a glob of to-dos I worry I might’ve forgotten. Currently, I’m trying to decide on a decent dress to wear to the fundraiser dinner tomorrow night, and also trying to locate my charger for my laptop, which I’ve never ever lost.
Mid-cramming clothing, along with a few options for shoes, into my suitcase, I realize I’ll probably need a swimsuit in Florida. I sift through a dresser drawer and shove aside the sexy string bikini I bought when I purchased a tanning bed package (like, three years ago) and then hold up the scraps of material and consider taking them with me on my trip. Benji would like it.
“I borrowed your charger, by the way.” My brother Manuel appears in my bedroom doorway, cord in hand. He stopped by, having no idea I was here. It’s Friday at ten a.m.—a workday—so I normally wouldn’t be. Once he learned I was here, he decided to hang out.
“I was wondering where that was.” I swipe the cord from his hand and he, in turn, catches one of the strings of my bikini top and tugs it from my grip.
“What the hell is this?” Miniscule strips of flame-orange fabric dangle from his fingers.
I snatch the top from him and cram it, along with my cord, into a corner of my suitcase. “I’m flying to Florida.”
“For a work trip.” He’s frowning. At age twelve, Manuel always wanted to know what was going on, so the fact that he’s just as nosy at age twenty-four isn’t surprising in the least.
“What else?” I answer. Before he can comment, I go on to say, “I’m putting together a care package for Timothy. I won’t have a chance to drop by the post office. Can you go for me?” I zip my suitcase but before I can haul it off the bed, my brother has it in hand and is walking down the stairs.
“Where is the package?” he asks.
“It’s not done yet. I have to add a few more snacks and tape the box closed.”
A knock at the door startles me. I’m more startled when I see it’s Benji. I glance at the wall clock. He’s early, which is good, because I am so not early.
“Hi.” I open the door.
He moves in like he might kiss me, then notices Manuel. “Oh, hey, man.”
My brother smiles. “What’s up, Benji?”
Manuel worked very briefly with Benji for a college assignment a few years ago. Some job shadow thing. Benji in my house, picking me up for a trip to Florida, doesn’t look remotely out of the norm to my brother. Nor should it. I’ve gone on trips with Benji before and have attended this fundraiser in particular for years. Though it’s usually in Ohio, not the Sunshine State.
“You might want to review the dress code with her,” my brother says as he sets my bag by the door. “She packed a bathing suit I’m not even sure you can consider a bathing suit. It’s scandalous.”
One of Benji’s eyebrows wings upward. The look he gives me says everything but “dress code.” I wonder if he’s picturing me wearing a scandalous bathing suit. We smile at each other before Manuel interrupts.
“Where’s this box?”
“One second,” I tell Benji as he lifts my suitcase by the handle. I race into the kitchen and grab a few processed, prepackaged snacks Timothy loves. I stuff a few hot chocolate packets in the box as well. I’m tearing off a sheet of paper from the magnetic pad on the fridge when my cell phone chimes.
“Hello?” I answer.
“What’s up, sis?” Dennis says into my ear. My other younger brother’s timing isn’t great.
“Hey! How are you? What’s going on?”
Before I can answer, he launches into a story about a guy he knows who works for Owen Construction who knows Nate. He’s chattering about how that made him think of me but doesn’t connect those dots to any one thing in particular. I “uh-huh” my way through the conversation while trying to write a legible note to Timothy. I manage to write something that makes sense (I think) and sign it. Manuel takes the paper, puts it in the box, and then takes the tape roll out of the junk drawer.
“Den, I have to go. I’m so sorry. I have a flight to catch.” I put my hand on my forehead, having the sneaking suspicion I’m forgetting something.
“Where are you going?” Dennis asks.
“Florida.” It hits me just as Manuel pulls a strip of tape over the box’s top. “Wait! When he was home on spring break, he left one of his books here.”
“Why are you going to Florida?” Dennis asks into my ear as I reroute to Timothy’s bedroom.
“Uh, a fundraiser. Benji and I are about to leave for the airport.”