RUNNING BACK

Chapter 25: I'm Not Crying. You're Crying

When I pull in the driveway that night, I'm a ball of excitement and nerves. I want to see my dad and tell him all about it. He may not want to talk to me, but I don't care. I go straight to his office. He's not there. I check their bedroom. He's not there either. My mom is sleeping alone. I walk out to the back yard, and all I find out there is my sister, slightly less chatty than usual.

"Hey," I say, trying not to startle her. "How'd you get home?"

"Cookie brought me."

"What're you doing out here?"

She's wrapped in a throw blanket and curled up on a chaise lounge. "I'm just looking at the stars."

Her face is titled upward. I follow her gaze to the night sky lit up by thousands and thousands of stars. "It reminds me of the planetarium we used to go to in elementary school. It's crazy how many more stars there are in Blue Lake," she says quietly.

I narrow my eyes at her and tilt my head. "It's the same amount that we had in Woodland Heights..."

"No. There's definitely more here," she argues.

"You can see more here, but it doesn't change how many are up there."

She exhales forcefully and shakes her head. "What do you want, anyway?"

"I'm looking for Dad. Did he leave?" I ask her.

"Hope so. I'm so done with him," she replies, pulling the blanket up around her chin.

"What do you mean?"

"He was picking another fight with Mom. That's why I came out here." She sits up a little straighter, adjusting her blanket once again.

"What are they fighting about now?" I ease myself down at the end of the lounge chair so that she'll look me in the eye.

"Same as always. Dad's an asshole and won't stop drinking."

I sigh, and all my excitement deflates like slow leaking helium in a birthday balloon.

"He's gotten worse, if that's even possible," she says.

"It's about Pax. He misses him so much." I shrug.

"Why do you always defend him?" She raises her voice. "Why can't you see Mom's perspective for once? She lost a kid too."

"I'm not defending him. I'm trying to understand why he does these things. Why he won't stop drinking. Why he's so angry," I say, exasperated. She's really going out of her way to be more difficult than usual.

She pulls the throw blanket up around her chin again, drawing her knees up to her chest. "You know what I keep thinking about?"

"No. What?" How the hell am I supposed to know what goes on in that head of hers?

"That time Dad got so mad at Pax during one of your games. I think I was like seven or eight. Remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember. We were on the Chiefs that year. It was our first game."

"That's right. Mom had gotten me a Chiefs cheerleader costume. I was so excited to wear it and cheer for you guys," she says, pausing. "I think I still have it."

"And?"

She glares at me and rolls her eyes. "Just listen, okay? After he messed up a play, do you remember what Dad did?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"Do you remember or not?"

I look down at the ground. I can't ever forget that one. It's pretty much burned into my brain.