Page 36 of Back for Seconds

Nothing—all day.

I knew she had a stressful, blazer-on-top/pajamas-on-the-bottom type of job, but still. June was forthcoming, honest, maybe even a little blunt. This wasn’t like her.

Something about the idea of my brother getting his situationship an umbrella zapped the last vestiges of energy from me. We both went silent, fists pressed into our chins as we frowned at the Christmas tree–shaped jewelry display in the middle of the brightly lit department store.

I sighed and rested a hand on top of my baby brother’s head of curls. Like most kids his age, he kept his hair in a low taper fade that ballooned out into a mushroom cloud of curls that he liked to shake around to express his emotions in lieu of words.

“Ok, I’m fucking dehydrated and overstimulated.” I worried at my lip for a moment. “But I think maybe I can ask someone for help.”

Isaac lifted his brows into hopeful arches. Sometimes, he really still looked like a kid. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” It was the perfect excuse to text June. “I mean, anything is better than those earrings and, uh, umbrella.”

“What’s wrong with an umbrella? It could be a nice one. Like a big one. With a gold handle.”

“Dude—”

“Excuse me?” A pinched voice cut through our conversation. “You’re blocking the walkway.”

“Oh, sorry—” I turned in the direction of the voice to find a short woman with blunt white bangs and a severe red lip wincing up at me. “Mrs. Sanders.”

“Joseph.” The harsh worry lines cutting through her forehead immediately evaporated.

I pressed my fingertips into Isaac’s shoulder, communicating that we needed to make a fast exit. “It’s…uh…nice to see you.”

“Darling, yes.” She shook her head gently. “Yes, it is. How have you been?”

“Good. Isaac and I were just leaving…”

“Isaac.” Her eyes took on a glimmering quality as her gaze quickly flitted between his face, his wheelchair, his relatively weaker looking legs which stood in contrast to his absolutely jacked arms. “Isaac, you’re looking wonderful.”

We both knew that reaction. Vague shock, panic, a dash of confusion, panic about the shock and confusion.

Amber’s mom had never seen Isaac use his chair before—something he only did in public spaces where people acted particularly priggish when he struggled to keep up with the speed of the crowd—or in places so spread out that it didn’t make sense for him to use his half-cuff crutches.

But how was that even possible? Amber and I had dated—admittedly, not consistently—for the better part of a decade. And… and all that time she’d never once, even accidentally, brought up the nuances of my little brother’s cerebral palsy?

Mrs. Sanders seemed to be working through similar thoughts. “You two really are such a handsome pair. I was just picking up some last-minute presents…”

“Us too.” Isaac flashed her a bright smile. “Joey needed a special something for a special someone.”

My fingers were still resting on his shoulder, thankfully. Otherwise, I would have strangled him. Instead, I dug into his trap muscle. “We needed a special something for a special someone.”

“Sure. How nice.” Mrs. Sanders swept her eyes over me, assessing my outfit. I was wearing what I always wore: black sweatpants, black hoodie. “Are you boys going to be at the town meeting tonight? They’re giving out the award for Best Lights. Bring your popcorn.”

“Ah…I don’t know—”

“Charles and I are headed up to New York to see our children, so you go and let me know who wins.” She gave me a smile so forced, she looked like she was actually in pain.

This was a pointed comment. Go to the town thing, sweetie. Amber won’t be there. You’re safe.

I swallowed roughly. “Sure. Sounds like a plan. See you, Mrs. Sanders.”

She flashed another close-lipped smile. “You can call me Darla, dear.”

***

The whole drive back to Evergreen, all I could think about was the town meeting.